#´´...but who needs that when our last names are in spanish! we already know everything to make the show!´´ lmao

[zatyrlucy]

Hell I cant believe Im gonna say this but twitter is finally making me laugh ...and thats thanks to Oye Primos

1- The title is badly written

2- The protagonist´s nick name is ¨Cuquita¨ wich literally means ¨little pussy¨ in my country

3- The fucking sky is yellow ala Mexico in Braking Bad

4- None of the characters wear shoes, like wtf are we too poor for shoes or what? lol

5- The ¨whole family lives in the same house¨ stereotype/cliche

6- Most of the latinoamerican countries have been devastated by earthquakes throughout history and the writers have the audacity to call the show´s town ¨Terremoto Highs¨ = "Earthquake Highs¨

There is nothing wrong with Americans creating shows based on other cultures... but for the love of god, investigate about that culture first!!

[bruhnze]

Apple tarts and tiramisu - Part 5

Summary ''Apple tarts and tiramisu'': Lucy just moved to Barcelona, you offer to teach her Spanish. Reader gets into a relationship with Lucy Bronze who she met while she served her an apple tart.

Other parts: part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

SMUT - MINORS DNI, Warnings: smut

Wordcount: 3k?

Long awaited part 5, hope you like it 🙃

Apple tarts and tiramisu - Part 5

´´Do you want to go back to yours?’’ you asked Lucy walking back to the car.

‘’Yeah I wanted to ask you that actually, because Narla comes home tomorrow morning’’ Lucy said ‘’but how did you know?’’.

‘’Oh I didn’t, but speaking about that, how come you only have a dog sometimes?’’ you asked her ‘’you have a dogsitter?’’

‘’uhm, yes, I also have a dogsitter’’ she cleared her throat and looked at the ground ‘’andishareNarlawithmyex'’ she coughed.

You laughed ‘’what?’’

‘’I share my dog with my ex’’ she said hesitantly.

‘’But you just got to spain’’ you joked ‘’already have an ex here who you have shared custody with? Damn you really do move fast’’.

Lucy laughed now too ‘’damn that would be crazy, no I actually move quite slow normally, but ehm, the ex is also from England, and ehrrm… god this sounds bad, but it isn’t.. she moved to Barcelona too,.. she’s in the same team.. we… our… no.’’. She thought and collected herself again and said ‘’her and my transfers were already a done deal when we broke up.. we broke up on good terms.. and we both share the opinion that our career went before everything and we just professionally work together.. and the dog is mine actually but I just.. she asked If Narla could stay at hers every now and then too and now it just turned into one week at mine and the other week at hers and so on’’.

‘’Okay’’ you stated ‘’and what is her name?’’

‘’oh ehm, Keira’’ Lucy looked at you trying to read you.

You smiled ‘’its okay Lucy, ofcourse you have exes, me too, it’s normal’’ you said reinsuring ‘’but what is her last name?’’

‘’Walsh’’ she frowned ‘’why? Your not go-

‘’Was she number 21?’’ and then you heard what Lucy had tried to say ‘’God no, i was just curious who it was’’.

‘’yeah the number 21 indeed, midfielder, sorry’’

‘’Ah! She was pretty good right, she’s didn’t lose the ball once and she , what’s it called, yfs/n was pretty excited about it, when she put the ball through the other players legs?’’’

‘’gave a nutmeg?’’

You laughed ‘’I guess, but my friend said it in Spanish so I don’t know''.

''Your so silly, i can't believe you don't know anything about football''. Lucy giggled.

You shrugged your shoulders ''anyways your place it is then’’.

Lucy opened the door from the car for you ‘’mhmm, but why did you want to go there?’’

You gave her a quick kiss ‘’no reason’’ you smirked.

..

She had put on some Spanish music in the car and you were sure she had been influenced by her teammates because it were songs you and your friends enjoyed.

Friends that you probably neglected a bit the last few weeks. That made you think about yfs/n and the fact that she had probably known Lucy’s ex was in her team, as she also knew about Putellas’ personal life and some other players.

Lucy’s hand was back on your knee, just like during the drive on the way to the restaurant.

You got your phone and texted your friend, also sharing the fact you had a girlfriend now.

Your best friend was happy for you and about the ex she texted that she had thought that was something for Lucy to share with you.

@bestfriend: are you with her now?

@y/n: yeah driving back from the restaurant

@bestfriend: ah okay, otherwise I would have called you, want to go to the gym tomorrow afternoon? bcs I need you to tell me everything about how she asked u

@y/n: yh tmrr works, btw also got a crazy story to tell involving my mom💀💀

@bestfriend: okay im curious, your not mad right?

@y/n: no about what?

@bestfriend: that I hadn’t said anything?

@y/n: ohh no, I don’t even think I mind that she works with her ex, idk just hadn’t expected it and was surprised to find out now, when you had told me about a few other players personal lives, so I thought, did you know or did you not know, and if you knew why didn’t you tell me.. but ig I get what u meant about Lucy telling me.

@bestfriend: just so you know you are hotter tho

@y/n: thanks but that’s not nice to say!!

@bestfriend: truth is harsh sometimes xx

@bestfriend: love you always

@bestfriend: now go kiss some abs

@y/n: 🙄

You chuckled at your phone.

Lucy looked at you curious. You cleared your throath ‘’I’m sorry, my friend was being dumb’’

‘’what did she say?’’ Lucy asked smiling.

‘’Oh nothing’’ you blushed ‘’just yfs/n, she is happy for us’’.

Lucy smiled ‘’already told yfs/n?’’

‘’Oh’’ you looked surprised ‘’is it secret that were together?’’

‘’no no’’ Lucy rubbed her thumb over your skin ‘’it’s cute’’  ‘’but speaking about that subject, I think it is maybe wise to keep everything away from the public, the media can be cruel, but..´´ she gulped ´´some fans are even worse, and I don´t want you to have to deal with that´´.

´´Yeah I get that´´ you said putting your hand on top of hers ´´but I would like to meet your friends and family too eventually´´.

´´ohhh yess, I can´t wait´´ Lucy smile was back ´´that is going to happen ofcourse, that´s got nothing to do with keeping our life private... anddddd i also still have to meet your dad´.

´´Still?´´ you chuckled ´´it´s been´´ you looked at the time ´´maybe an hour since we´ve been together´´.

...

////

In the elevator the two of you pursued your usual elevator activity; kissing. It felt like that had become the standard routine whenever the two of you stood in the small mirrored space.

‘’you know why I wanted to go to yours’’ you seductively said in her ear.  

‘’no’’

‘’because the other day you brought something over to mine and-‘’

You kissed her neck.

‘’have been thinking about it ever since’’

Lucy gulped, thinking about the strap-on she had brought last week. ‘’yeah, did you like that?’’.

''Mhmm, very'' you said, already getting turned on from anticipation.

..

She stumbled trying to open the door while you leaned against her back, reaching around her tugging her blouse out of her pants.

As you felt up her stomach Lucy abruptly stopped and turned around between you arms, she grabbed your wrists.

‘’Nuh uh’’ Lucy said with a smug face ‘’you wait here, like this’’ she walked you a step back and crossed your arms. ‘’and i will open the door’’.

You thought it was funny how she used dominance to take control of a situation where you clearly distracted her so much she couldn’t open a door. But you didn't laugh because this had been the mood you wanted to put her in.

''Okay come in pretty girl'' Lucy said already halfway into the hallway.

As you walked in to the apartment you were hit by a wall of cold air.

''jodidamente frio'' (ugh very cold) you scuffed out rubbing your arms, ''Lucy why are we in Antartica''.

Lucy came back to the hallway were you were taking you shoes of, ''sorry for the cold, forgot the AC apparently''.

''left in a rush?''

Lucy laughed ''yeah, had to pick a pretty girl up, couldn't leave her waiting''.

You pushed her chest ''nah she wasn't waiting''

Lucy fake gasped ''she wasn't?''.

''Nope'' you shook your head with your eyes closed.

''hmm i heard some different things, i heard she couldn't wait to get dinner over with'' Lucy said cocky.

You looked at her questioning ''really who said that?''

''She told me herself'' she wispered in your ear ''she couldn't wait to be fucked again''.

You gulped ''oh yeah, maybe you should listen to her, sounds like she knows what's up''.

''I don't know'' Lucy teased ''i mean this morning was already quite an active morning and she told me her stamina aint that good''.

''im not tired at all'' you sputterd.

She held her face away from you a bit and you spotted the grin she was wearing. ''Okay'' Lucy said ''but we'll take it slow, i want to show you how much i love you''.

You sighed internally, you had planned for a different night with a more dominant Lucy, but i guess you could work with this too. You just had to recalibrate yourself for a second and you made an internal note to research how to get the dominant side out of her, because you knew she had it and was dying to meet her.

////

In the bedroom Lucy unzipped your dress, slowly kissing down you back. ''your so pretty y/n, i love you''.

You got goosebumps all over your body, okay maybe this wasn't too bad either you thought.

You stepped out of your dress, leaving you only in a thong. Lucy rubbed your sides to your hips where her hands continued to rest. She pressed herself against you and gathered all your hair in her hand and placed it over your left shoulder before she started placing soft open mouth kisses on your neck.

"Luce" you intertwined your fingers with hers and pulled them over your breasts, making her cup them.

''mmh'' she murmered against you shoulder where she had now reached with her kisses ''not so fast, go lay on the bed for me bub''.

You let go of her hands and laid down "you are wearing to much".

''Jeez'' Lucy laughed ''patience baby patience, I can't go that fast and I don't want to go fast, but I promise you'll get what you want''.

A blushed took over your cheeks, you didn't know what had gotten in to you, you got the realisation that Lucy made you so horny, no one had ever effected you like that, you thought about the recent weeks and how much sex you'd had and even next to that how much you had thought about it.

While you had been thinking Lucy was getting rid of her clothes. She looked at you concerned ''what are you thinking about?'' she asked you softly.

You blinked, ''oh sorry my thoughts wandered off for a second , i just, i'm so very attracked to you''.

''so you resort to your thoughts eventhough im standing right here?'' she chuckled.

''to be honest, yes'' you chuckled aswell ''I've built up quite a good mental stock lately, some pretty nice images''. you said cheekily.

''oh yeah? do you think about me much?''

''yeah i was litteraly just thinking about how you are taking over my brain, i can't remember thinking off anything else these last weeks... i think i have a big crush''

Lucy smiled ''im so in love with you, i totaly get what your saying, i feel the same''.

...

Lucy pinned you to the bed with her own body, she had put on the strap you had been longing for and was now softly kissing you as she leaned on her arms, not wanting to put to much weight on you.

You squeezed her biceps and

travelled up with your hands to her shoulders, then her back.

You loved her muscles, you had never been with someone this strong and you had never seen a women pull muscles off as good as Lucy did, she was very astheticly pleasing.

Trying to deepen the kiss you pulled her closer to you, resulting in her whole body brushing against yours.

Lucy moaned as her nipples brushed along your skin. She pulled back from the kiss and went to your neck.

With a combination of tongue and teeth she gave attention to every inch of your neck and jaw. Trying to figure out the points the made you squirm.

The attachment between her legs pushed against you when she moved her hips trying to reach further back your neck.

A shiver of arousal ran down your spine and instinctively you tried to grind against her.

''Not yet baby'' she murmurred against your skin ''i want to kiss every part of your body'' she sighed ''your so beautifull''.

The air that left her mouth when she spoke tickled against the wet spots in your neck.

''Luce, i need you''' you whimpered at the idea of waiting much longer, feeling the sogginess between your legs and your aching empty hole, waiting to be filled.

She smirked as she sat up, and took your hands, pulling them above your head.

Lucy kissed the inside of your arm, making you get goosebumps ''already begging me?''

''yes Luce, please''

''but i want to taste you babe, all of you, can you be good for me and let me kiss you'' she gave more kisses, now to your other arm.

Her words made you moan ''kiss me then, but don't take your time''.

Lucy giggled as she went on.

..

After she had called every part of your body beautiful, littering it with kisses, even leaving some marks on your neck and chest, she had finally arrived at your hips, very close to the place you needed her most.

''My beautiful girl'' she hummed in between kisses.

You couldn't handle it anymore and were so turned on that your brain almost short-circuited. Your hands pushed her head lower.

You felt her lips against your skin in a smile. She placed soft kisses on your lips and then went back to your groin, licking and biting softly, placing another mark ''all mine'' she groaned.

Her tongue licked along your slit, making you gasp out a moan.

Your hand tightened in her hair and she lapped at you a couple more times before pulling back.

The head you had just dropped on the pillow with your eyes closed shot back up and you looked at Lucy.

''So needy'' she smirked.

''only for you'' you cried out below your breath.

''What's that?''

''you make me crazy Lucy, please-''

Lucy placed her tongue back on you still looking you in the eyes.

''fuck'' ''yeah like-

She started sucking your clit, a moan escaped your throat.

After a bit she got up and hovered infront of your face ''do you want to taste how good you taste?''.

You groaned but accepted the kiss, your taste on her tongue made you moan into her mouth, you couldn't believe how long she was taking but you had to admitt she was fucking amazing at what she did.

''What did you want me to call you again?'' Lucy asked cheeky.

You blushed ''a slut?''

''i think you are being a bit of a slutty girl right now, aren't you? so desperate for my cock''.

You pulled her closer for another kiss but she held back ''i can feel you pulsate against me, all for me?''

''yes'' you moaned ''only you Lucy, i have never thought about sex this much in my life, nor did i have so much sex as i did these last weeks''.

''hmmm'' Lucy moaned in your neck ''thats right, your such a slut for my cock, aren't you? are you gonna take me so well''

''y- yeah''

Gently she guided the strap with one of her hands to your opening, lining it up with the ring of muscle that was waiting to be entered.

Lucy looked you in your eyes as she slowly put the tip in. Your head fell back as the feeling flushed over your body.

With the head of the dick Lucy fucked you gently. It was not enough for you ''Lucy, more''.

''you need more slutty girl? want me to fill you up?'' Lucy purred ''such a good girl for telling me''.

Lucy bottomed out in you, making your eyes roll back. Finally experiencing the exact thing again you had been longing for the last days.

''Feel good pretty girl?''

You could only moan in response, the build up had been so intens that you were on the verge of cumming already, not even needing more stimulance.

You wrapped your legs around Lucy, bringing her closer to you. She held one arm around your shoulder and put the other hand behind your neck, pulling you in for a kiss.

The ritm felt so good you thought you didn't have enough oxygen to kiss Lucy back.

Nails dug into Lucy's back making her pull back a bit ''i- im so c-close''.

She looked into your eyes as she kept thrusting in to you, remaining the pace she had ''come for me pretty girl, show me how good that feels''.

With a few more thrusts the high flushed through your body, it was an intens but short orgasm.

You let moans and cries escape your body as Lucy slowly came down to a stop and pulled out.

She kissed your face, "you look so pretty like this".

You gave a weak smile "cuddle me?"

"Ofcourse pretty girl"

...

////

The next morning Lucy and you woke up from the doorbell.

Lucy jumped out of bed and put on a jumper and some joggers, without having time to search for underwear.

''Heyy'' you overheard as Lucy had opened the door and waited for Keira to come upstairs. You were still laying in the bed.

''Hey Lucy, here she is, she hasn't eaten yet, but i did walk her, she was a very good girl as usual''.

''Thanks, i'll see you later''

''Yes, see you this afternoon, had a good weekend?''

''yeah very, did you?''

''yeah, i wanted to tell you i'm dating someone again, i don't know why but just wanted you to know, she's German and she was with me this weekend, Narla liked her a lot so it was all good''.

''Okay, nice, i'm happy for you, i actually have been dating someone too'' you heared Lucy say ''asked her to be my girlfriend yesterday actually''.

''ah congrats, thought you looked happier lately''

''Thanks Kei''

''Okay see you later!'' ''and bye Narla, mommy will see you next week''.

''go on, say bye Narla''

You heared the door shut and a sound of nails on the floor coming your way.

The cute white dog you had seen and petted at the cafe a few times jumped on the bed.

''Like she knew you were here'' Lucy giggled at the sight of you getting licked in the face.

''Narla, get off her'' Narla oblidged as her owner put on a stern voice.

Lucy sat down next to you in bed ''goodmorning, sorry you got woken up like this, forgot to set the alarm yesterday''.

''Nah it's fine, you told me yesterday so it wasn't unexpected'' you laughed as you were petting Narla ''such a cutie, aren't you such a good doggie''.

''She likes you'' Lucy said.

You laughed ''Narla likes everyone Luce, but thanks''.

Lucy kissed your cheek ''but she doesn't come up running to lick everyones face''.

''Yeah but maybe if they would be the one handing her cups of whipped cream she would''.

Lucy laughed ''yeah okay, you did some good bribery'', ''i'm happy to though, cause if Narla didn't like you it would've been a problem''.

''Oh?''

''Yep, she's the most important thing to me on the whole world.'' ''but she likes you so we're good''.

You laughed and turned yourself to Narla and said in a high voice, "Then I'll just have to keep spoiling you, don't i little doggie."

----

That concludes part 5! Hope it was good, sorry it took a bit longer this time..

Anyone got suggestions for part 6?

more parts

[pedge-page]

Joel dealing with preggo wife #7. 5 Special where Joel DOES get you the dog

Decided Olive from the Esquire shoot will be Spoon because LOOK AT THAT PRECIOUS BABY

Notes: Joel's wifu is never not gonna be pregnant but hypothetically this is a snippet if Joel does decide to follow through after his promise in part 7. Again, not part of main timeline or series but would take place in future after the baby is born:

- - - -

Flash forward after your pregnancy, when your healthy little girl is already over one-year-old and Joel can just now barely trust Tommy to babysit her without assistance …

True to his word, Joel brings you to the local pound. You bounce giddily in the passenger seat of the truck with more energy than you’ve had in the last 18 months.

"Ya know, you're almost more excited to get a dog than when we brought our own baby home."

"Gee I wonder if it had anything to do with a 9 hour labor and then splitting my vagina apart, not sleeping for 3 days and then having to wear a pad the size of Africa as she cried the entire ride home?"

He shivers at the thought, remembering how your temper due to sleep deprivation was at its worst yet. "Yeah. Yeah good point."

 You both peruse through the sad, shaking little animals behind the serilized gates, and you almost want to burst into tears and leave. But he takes your hand and you both listen closely as the handler explains each story. How they were rescued, their recovery stories, certain needs and comforts, whether they’d be comfortable with children.

You find one who’s chipper to have an audience today, eagerly sniffing you through the gate and wagging his tail.

“Oh, Joel!”

Joel glances at the clipboard on his cage, noting the name: Tommy. 

“Hell no.”

“Oh come on, he’s perfect! Already part of the family!”

“Aint letting a dog named after my brother lick your face, hump your leg, and steal you away from me every night. No way.”

The handler comes over and apologies: “Tommy actually already has a family coming to pick him up tomorrow, so he’s not available.”

“Ha!” Joel puts his hands on his hips with a sassy head tilt. “Good—for the dog of course,” he adds to the annoyed handler.

 Then Joel finds an anxious little dog whos previous owner had died with no one to look after her. You two sit in the room for a while, quiet and calm and patient until the mut finds the courage, tail tucked between her legs, to rest her chin on your knee. You come in and visit Spoon, as she's appropriately named given how much she likes to conform to your leg and rest, every day for the week before you're absolutely sure she's coming home. And just like that, you two adopt her into the Miller house.

At first Spoon isn't sure of the new home, and especially unsure of the interesting smells coming from the small human in the crib but eventually she quietly relaxes.

Joel was pretty quick to establish rules that would be absolute BS.

"No dog on the couch" well that went out the window week 1. "No dog on the bed" yeah fuck that by week 3. "No food of the plate" bitch you JUST saw him give her the rest of his lasagna.

You had to scold him about giving her too much shit food for her health.

By week four, you started to notice that Spoon is taking a real liking to Joel.

More than she likes you. And Joel is eating it up. Belly rubs, cuddles, even training responses are better suited with Joel than with you. Spoon pretty much only comes to you when she feels like it, never when called. Never sits for you. She's sweet, but pretty much ignores you. And it's kinda fucking--upsetting that your dog is stealing your mans.

Until you find out the dog speaks Spanish.

"That's not fair!" You shout to Joel as Spoon excellently heeds and sits to Joel's every command, tail whipping excitedly with each praise--all in Spanish.

"Its not my fault, honey."

"You KNEW"

"How would I have known?"

Ok, fair point.

And you're kinda pissed but it's so adorable watching Joel really love and train this dog--basically everything he said he wouldn't do cuz it was supposed to be "your" dog.

And while you were scared to introduce her to the baby, Spoon acted like a pro--extremely gentle, happy tamed wags as her big head and wide eyes perched on her petite feet and watched with curious quiet eyes for hours as she slept soundly. She adapted to true guard duty better than even Joel, especially when you would breastfeed, or burp her, or just sway her in your arms. Spoon watched and kept a tight perimeter that not even Joel could intercept when it was Baby duty.

Then one day on her own, while you're reading a book on the couch, Spoon drags her body over and rests on your lap. Always looks at you, presses her snout into your stomach and lies there for hours. And it's so cute, until she's preventing Joel from coming close to you, growling protectively, and keeps being a guard dog for you whether the baby was there or not.

"The hell is wrong with her?" Joel asks, being shoved off to the less-than-deseriable side of the couch.

You shrug and stroke Spoon's ears.

It's not until you go to the doctor with woozy symptoms and an upset stomach that you figure out why Spoon's behavior towards you changed:

You're pregnant again.

--

Series Masterlist

Permanent taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover

[sgiandubh]

Out of the OL bubble

Sidenote: this post owes everything to the incredible sleuthing skills of an already longtime trusted friend, who wishes to remain discreet. All credit goes entirely to her - this is such an idiotic topic, yet the Ur Troll insists.

I answered one of you in the comment threads yesterday, that once you get the hell out of the OL bubble, things begin to make sense. Why? Well, because of distance and context, I suppose. And also because this always was the dirty little secret of our Dedicated Manipulative Trolls: to make you believe in a terribly poor narrative, fit for a linear world. A world without compromise, drama, secrets and lies. Collective lack of time, perspective and/or Internet research skills did the rest and gave birth to this monster: the OL Fandom.

We are now told and are supposed to believe that because Scottish Xena apparently chose on purpose (with this and only this, I could agree, but for opposite reasons) to show us she trains in a Cumbernauld gym, that means... well, you know the rest and it involves The Magic Golden Dirk. That troll was never exactly subtle, was she, bless her heart?

That mother and entrepreneur has a life of her own and an entourage of her own and business collaborations of her own and her own agenda. Some of it is shown on her Instagram account, most of it can be speculated. Connecting dots just for the sake of it is neither productive, nor remotely interesting.

Let's see, for example, how she reacts to a very insistent fellow German athlete, whom she is going to meet at the Hyrox Cologne event (13-14th of April, during the Landcon week-end):

😬😱

What is Flamingos Club? Nope, not an ikebana society, no:

Tee-hee.

They were there before, in good company, last year, when they actually first met (rings a bell?):

(April 2023, ok? I am still waiting for my own DeLorean)

Who is this guy?

Fellow athlete, HYROX Ambassador (something I bet the farm she wants to achieve) and a contestant in this year's German reality show First Dates Hotel, on VOX (https://www.vox.de/cms/sendungen/first-dates-hotel.html):

The concept is simple: a renowned German chef, Roland Trettl (no idea!) now takes his blind date cooking show to the next level, with singles from all over the country parked into a Spanish dream holiday resort (Mallorca), shake, stir and see whatever happens. The classical Endemol recipe, now produced by Twenty Twenty. It also has an UK version, running on Channel 4 (coincidence? I doubt that very much, thank you!).

On set, Max's 'love interest' is a certain Linda. He recently wrote her ' a sweet love letter', taking the good advice of his namesake cast friend Max-the-Bartender:

(I swear to God, I feel like I am prostituting my 🧠, right now).

There is obviously nothing to see, here (or is it, such as two wannabes desperately wanting limelight?). She leads the typical no strings attached life of a single mom and he is still looking for a real job:

Since VOX does not give his full name, neither will I. It took five minutes to find him, with a bit of luck.

Why on Earth would one connect that woman to S, rather than to this nice, ambitious Bavarian?

I know why. It's almost too damn easy.

Two words: Channel 4. Truman Show. Ginger and Fred (oops, these are Our Couple).

Is it anything we haven't seen before?

Nope. We've seen way worse. But gone are the Days of Flukenzie Floozy.

[Edited] - there is no need to further expose our people.

[adrienneleclerc]

Daydreams

Pairing: Lead Singer! Mike Hellraiser x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Mike Winchester formed a band with his college friends and got a record deal after graduation, he is currently dating Y/N, who is his biggest muse. When I tell you Mike is down bad for his girl, he is down BAD

Warning: spelling and grammar errors, no translated Spanish, inaccurate music writing and recording process

A/N: got the idea of giving Mike the Winchester last name from @littlefreya and Henry does look like the missing Winchester brother, like he could be Sam’s twin since they’re close in age. I also had this song stuck in my head for a few days, thank you booktok

Mike was in his home studio daydreaming about his girlfriend, thinking about their date last night, the black lace dress she was wearing, hair done beautifully, makeup so pretty that he was dying to ruin it, it was all good until he felt someone hit his head.

“Hey, what the fuck, Chels?” Mike asked, soothing the part of his head where she hit him.

“Can you stop thinking about Y/N for two seconds and focus? We need one more song and we complete the album.” Chelsea said.

“Leave him, Chels, he’s clearly thinking with his downstairs brain.” Derrick said.

“Oh like you don’t think with yours when it comes to Allison? I have writers block, guys, I can’t think.” Mike said, throwing his notebook to the other side of the room.

“Do you have any cords in mind?” Chelsea asked, trying to be helpful.

“I have nothing. I think once i get the lyrics down, I can work on the melody,” Mike said, he checked his phone and saw it was almost 7. “Shit, Y/N is on her way, you guys need to leave.

“Oh come on, Winchester, we met her, she already moved in with you despite many of our jokes at your expense, I think she’s a keeper.” Derrick said.

“Haha, seriously, I need to give Y/N my undivided attention so you two need to get out of here so I can set everything up.” Mike said.

“You give her all the attention even when we are around.” Chelsea said. Mike looked at her. “Alright, fine, we’re leaving, we’re going to work on a few melodies for the new song though, see if any of them fit your lyrics. Let’s go.” Chelsea said and her and Derrick left the home studio through the kitchen door to leave through the backyard. Mike immediately changed, styled his hair back a little, and got the bouquet of roses he purchased earlier to put them in a vase on the counter. He was spraying cologne when he heard the the door open.

“There’s my girl, how was work, sweet cheeks?” Mike asked, kissing Y/N on the cheek, taking the take out bag out of her hands to put it on the counter.

“I have no words. Being a vet tech is fine, the pet owners get hysterical sometimes but it is what it is. How are things going with the band?” Y/N asked, placing her coat in the closet, walking back to the kitchen.

“Well i have writers block and we need one more song for our album.” Mike said, pulling out a chair to sit.

“I know something that might help you with your writer’s block.” Y/N said, leaning close to where he was sitting and started kissing and nibbling his neck.

“Oh, you know how much I love that, doll.” Mike said, sighing.

“I do. How about we do more of this after we eat. I stopped by that Peruvian restaurant that’s near in-n-out and got us the pollo a la brasa with extra rice, obviously, and anticuchos, jalea de mariscos, we are set for 3 days.” Y/N said,

“Thats perfect, princess.” Mike said, they kissed and began to eat.

After eating, Mike and Y/N went to their bedroom. Mike laid her down on the bed and Y/N gave him fuck me/doe eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that, doll, you know what it does to me.” Mike said, leaning in to kiss her, smiling into the kiss, she closed her eyes to enjoy the kiss even more.

Y un dos tres, tuki tuki, they did the deed, Mike was hugging Y/N, rubbing her arm.

“Why do you have writer’s block anyway? I thought you had a whole process when it came to songwriting o algo así, no, muñeco?” Y/N said.

“I do have a whole process but nothing is helping me. I haven’t had such writer’s block since I wrote ‘heaven angel’. Remember when I played that song for you?” Mike reminded Y/N.

“Oh I love that song. It was so good.” Y/N said.

“Of course you love that song, it’s about you.” Mike said.

“I know and I love it. I remember you dedicating that song to me when i went to your show. Muñeco, I love seeing you live, I really do, I hope you find some inspiration.” Y/N said, she kissed his cheek and went to the bathroom because she didn’t want a UTI.

The next day, Mike woke up and saw that Y/N wasn’t in bed. He put on his boxers and went to the kitchen and saw Y/N making breakfast, singing one of his songs, he smiled,

“Come and turn around 'Cause it's not just a figure of speech.” Y/N sang.

“You got me down on my knees, It's getting harder to breathe out.” Mike sang back, hugging Y/N from behind and she let out a little Yelp of surprise.

“No me asustes así, Muñeco.” Y/N turned around to hit his shoulder and Mike made believe it hurt him. “Did you sleep well?” Y/N asked, serving herself pancakes.

“I did, do you have work today? I wanted to do something with you.” Mike said, also serving himself the pancakes that were already done.

“No, the vet I’m working for said he wasn’t going to come in for 3 days so I have 3 days off. What did you want to do?” Y/N asked, sitting down at the table with her fork and knife, placing the syrup on the table.

“I think I’ve been putting to much pressure on myself to write this song. Maybe I have to…” Mike started, as he sat down

“Tienes que despejar la mente, calm your mind, wait until the idea comes to you. I get it, what did you have in mind?” Y/N asked, cutting a piece and eating it.

“Remember when we first started dating?” Mike asked.

“I met you when you after you performed at the Santa Monica Pier, we literally went out on a date that day.” Y/N said, Mike got up to stand behind Y/N, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

“You don’t want to go to the Santa Monica Pier today? We could play skeeball, I’ll put my hand over yours to guide you like old times.” Mike said, taking Y/N’s hand in his.

“Mira este, alright, fine, we’ll go, do I pack us food?” Y/N asked as Mike sat back down at the table,

“Y/N, babygirl, you’re starting to sound like your mom. If we get hungry, we’ll buy food there, I’ll pay for us, it’s fine.” Mike said, eating his pancakes.

“Fine, are we taking the jeep or the bike?” Y/N asked.

“Mm, as much as I love having you holding onto my when we’re on the motorcycle, we gotta take the jeep, I wanted to hit the beach too.” Mike said.

“Alright then, we finish eating and I’ll pack the beach bag. So we’re doing the rides first?” Y/N asked.

“Of course, the Ferris wheel, the coaster, the shark frenzy thing, then we can skeeball, and we’ll stay at the beach for the rest of the day, it’s 9:27, we’ll leave at 10.” Mike said.

“I’ll get ready then.” Y/N said.

They finished eating and Y/N was putting on her swimsuit in the walk in closet that connected to their room when Mike walked in. When he saw her in the suit, he did a wolf whistle and she turned around.

“Mm i Don’t think we should go to the beach anymore, I don’t want any other man to see you in this suit.” Mike got closer to her, grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her in for a slow and sensual kiss.

“Que tiene? You get to see what’s under my suit and you’re the only one who gets to please me.” Y/N teased, giving him a sweet, innocent smile.

“You are such a tease, sweet cheeks.” Mike said, shaking his head.

“But you like it.” Y/N said,

“Well you’re not lying there,” Mike said, Y/N puton her jeans shorts, a tank top, sneakers, tied her hair up in a ponytail (let your hair down if you have short hair), and wore her sunglasses. When she went to the living room, Mike was dressed in shorts, a t shirt, sneakers, a baseball cap, and sunglasses, he had their bag in hand. “You think anyone will recognize me in this?” Mike asked.

“If we learned anything from marvel movies, apparently no one will recognize you.” Y/N teased.

“Wait, my fans know we’re together, you gotta wear a hat too.” Mike said.

“The shit I do for you.” Y/N said and went to the walk in to grab her Yankee baseball cap. “Okay, let’s go, muñeco.” Y/N kissed him and they got into their 2021 jeep wrangler.

When they were in the car, Mike had his hand on her thigh, there were times where he would hold her hand, Mike’s love language was clearly physical touch. Once they made it, they got out of the car but left the beach bag since they were going in the rides. As they walked around the pier, a few people came up to take photos with Mike, Y/N happily took those photos for his fans. They went on the rides, Mike bought some cotton candy, feeding pieces to Y/N, they played skeeball together and they went to their car to get the bag and hang out on the beach. When Y/N took off her top and shorts, Mike just stared.

“Wow, wow, wow, I am LOVING the view, sweet cheeks!” Mike said as he was setting up the chairs on the sand. Y/N smiled at him and went closer to him, they kissed.

“You think you can rub sunscreen on my back?” Y/N asked.

“Of course I can, baby girl, I would love too.” Mike got the sunscreen from her bag and apply it on her back. “You ready, baby? You wanna go in the water with me?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Y/N said and instead of walking like normal couple, Mike carried Y/N over his shoulder and both were laughing like crazy until they made it on the water. “Ay, está helada, it’s so fucking cold, no puede ser.”

“I’ll warm you up.” Mike said, hugging her. They were like this for a while until Mike went back to his chair and saw his phone ringing. “What up?”

“You’re telling me you’re having a beach day instead of writing a song?” Chelsea asked.

“Oh my god, Chels, I can’t write music under all this pressure, I’m sorry that I’m not the best song writer, do you have anything written, hm?” Mike asked,

“Don’t use that tone with me.” Chelsea said.

“Look, I am with Y/N right now and if it’s any consolation, I just thought of a line that we could use but you need to write it down, okay? ‘She knows she’s a tease’, you got it?” Mike asked.

“Mike, we’re not making another song about your girl.” This time it was Derrick on the phone.

“THEN THINK OF SOMETHING BETTER!” Mike hung up the phone and both Derrick and Chelsea on silent. He sat on the chair and he sees Y/N getting out of the water, walking towards him with water droplets on her body.

“Who was that?” Y/N asked as she straddled him. Mike put his hands on her hips.

“Just Chelsea and Derrick, they’re on my ass about the song.” Mike said, he leaned in to kiss her. “Oh, my brothers are going to come over tomorrow.” Mike was going to kiss her again but she pulled away. “What?”

“Your brothers are coming tomorrow and you didn’t think to tell me until right now? I have to buy ingredients to bake a pie for Dean, make a salad for Sam, clean the house, we gotta go.” Y/N said getting off his lap and drying off with a towel. “Pack this up in the car while I go change.” Y/N said. She went to the changing room, put on her clothes, and she walked back to the car to tell Mike to go change. She Waite sun til he came back and started the car. “We have to go to the supermarket to get apples, cucumbers, carrots, spinach, and we need more eggs.”

“Yeah of course, I’ll pay, they’re my brothers anyway.” Mike said.

“I’ll make baked chicken with rice, I have all the spices to make the marinade and let it sit. And we need potatoes to make the French fries from scratch, and chicken thighs and drumsticks. So tomorrow, I need you out of the kitchen, work on the song, okay. But how the hell do you tell me last minute? I respect your parents, I really do, but what the fück?!? Is this how you had Mary? Telling her shit last minute like a fücking elementary school kid that forgot to buy poster board?” Y/N asked angrily.

“The point is I told you now, it’s not late at all, you have time to leeos es everything.” Mike said.

“Thats where you’re wrong, muñeco, it’s 5pm, people are getting off work, there will be traffic.” Y/N said.

“We can handle traffic, just don’t be mad, okay.” Mike said.

“When did your brother tells you they were coming over for dinner?” Y/N asked.

“I Don’t know…it was last week, I remember because you made lasagna.” Mike said and Y/N gave him a zape.

“I can’t believe you had a whole fucking week to tell me, sabes que, you’re staying in the car while I get groceries.” Y/N said. “Why should I suffer? You’re getting the groceries, I’ll text you the list.”

“Yeah, of course I’ll do it. You want me to buy something else?” Mike asked.

“Just get what’s on the list.” Y/N said. They were quiet for the rest of the ride, Mike parked in the Shop Rite parking lot.

“I’ll be right back.” Mike said, getting out of the car.

Mike went to shop rite and bought what Y/N had on the list, plus a few snacks he knew Y/N liked and ice cream because there should always be ice cream in the house. He paid for everything and got back in the car to drive home. Once home, he brought in the groceries while Y/N just brought in the beach bag.

“Okay, out of my kitchen, I need to make the marinade.” Y/N said, pushing him out.

“Wait, I’m hungry, I need to eat.” Mike whined.

“Then heat up the leftovers, no puedo hacer nada if you’re here.” Y/N said. Mike walked away in surrender.

“Im sorry for not letting you know.” Mike said.

“It’s fine, just let me do what I need to do.” Y/N said.

It was the next day and like promised, Mike was in the home studio with Chelsea and Derrick.

“I have something down, ‘she’s all I breathe when I should be breathing air’ i think it could be part of the chorus.” Mike said.

“Ugh, why are you so obsessed with her?” Derrick asked.

“You have never been in love and it shows. Besides? I think our new album is missing a love song, this could be that love song.” Mike said.

“Fine, if you insist on writing a song about Y/N, how does she make you feel? I already know that all you do is daydream about her but how would you describe her?” Chelsea said. Mike started thinking how to put what he feels into words.

“You know that feeling when you know they’re the one? Like you know that person is all you’ll ever need, that one else could even come close to being like that person.” Mike started.

“That’s good, that’s good.” Chelsea wrote the idea down.

“Metaphorically speaking, how would she be?” Derrick asked, sitting down on the couch.

“Like your favorite song you have playing on a loop, it’s all you’ll ever listen to, nothing else’s but that song.” Mike says.

“Isn’t that basically ‘replay’ by Iyaz?” Chelsea asked.

“Shit, you’re right.” Mike said,

“You’re on the right track. Let’s think of something else, um…” Chelsea started and the three of them started thinking of something else to compare Y/N to.

“A book! What about a book?” Derrick asked.

“That could work, Y/N LOVED reading, there’s this book called ‘beautiful disaster’ that she’s always reading, it’s so worn out but it’s her favorite book of all time, it’s all she read when she’s bored.” Mike said.

“That’s it! Okay, here’s the music sheet I made, um, start playing it and I’ll say the lyrics I’m thinking, alright?” Chelsea said.

“Yeah, de una as Y/N would say.” Mike said as he picked up the guitar to play the notes, Chelsea started humming.

“She’s all I read, she’s all the literature that I’ll ever read.” Chelsea sang.

“That’s perfect! Im writing it down right now, okay. That’s really good, Chels.” Mike said.

“Okay, we wrote that Y/N is literature, what kind of literature would she be?” Derrick asked.

“She makes me feel so many things. I remember when we first started dating, I would text her poems every morning.” Mike said, then an idea sparked on his head. “That’s it! Okay, the notes, the notes, there it is, okay…’she’s all the literature I’ll ever read, she’s poetry, but she’s like the good kind that doesn’t make me sleep’ how does that sound?” Mike asked.

“Finally you being whipped has brought some food to the band.” Derrick said jokingly.

“Haha.” Mike laughed sarcastically and threw a paper ball at him.

“Alright, we have the first verse done, that’s good, this is great progress.” Chelsea said.

Y/N was in the kitchen, she has the rice, chicken, and salad done, she opened the over door when she heard the doorbell ring.

“Fuck.” She muttered as she took the pie out of the oven. She wiped her hands on her apron, walked through the dining room, living room, and opened the door. “Sam, Dean, come in!” Y/N said, hugging Sam and Dean Winchester.

“Hey, sweetheart, where’s our brother?” Dean asked.

“He’s in the studio. I’ll get him, but please, sit, make yourselves comfortable on the couch, did you guys come in the impala?” Y/N asked.

“You really love that car, don’t you?” Sam asked.

“It’s a beautiful car, I’ll be right back.” Y/N said, she knocked on the studio door. “Muñeco, your brothers are here.”

“Im coming, sweet cheeks, I’ll just finish up.” Mike said and he heard Y/N walk away.

“‘Muñeco’? ‘Sweet cheeks’? You are whipped.” Derrick commented.

“Do we stay?” Chelsea asked

“No, you don’t have to, I’ll try to finish the hutías tonight though, have a safe trip back.” Mike said and the three of the left the studio, Chelsea and Derixk leaving through the backyard. Mike walked into the living room and saw his brothers. “Sammy, Deano!” Mike said, hugging them.

“Nice to see you too, Mikey.” Sam said.

“How’s the little rockstar? Working on a new song already?” Dean asked as the four of

Dinner went really well, they talked about what they’ve been up to, Dean complimenting Y/N’s cooking, especially the pie, Dean took the pie with him when Sam and Dean left.

“Dinner went well, don’t you think?” Like asked.

“It did.” Y/N said as she cleared the table but Mike held her wrists.

“I’ll clear the table and wash the dishes, okay? Hey ready for bed.” Mike said, kissing her forehead.

“What about you?” Y/N asked.

“Im not tired yet, I’ve also been on a roll with the lyrics so I’m gonna see if I can finish.” Mike said.

“Does that mean I’ll be able to listen to the song tomorrow?” Y/N asked.

“Maybe, go to bed though, you’ve been cooking all day” Mike said, kissing her again.

When Mike was finished washing dishes, he brewed himself a cup of coffee and took out a concha from the box that Y/N got this morning from the bakery. He went to his studio.

“Alright, no dicking around, how do I continue this song?” Mike asked himself. He started humming, thinking about Thursday night how Y/N looked at him with those eyes that drive him crazy. “I really gotta stop daydreaming.” Mike said, sipping coffee. “Okay, her eyes are what..? Lust? Love? A movie? Maybe an x-rated one by the way her eyes get me…that’s it!” Mike exclaimed, writing down his thoughts. “Her eyes are porn and she knows it, won’t shut her eyelids till she gets invited” Mike sang as he thought back to all the moments Mike and Y/N had made love.

Mike’s writing process was like this for a few hours until he had the whole song written. He played the whole song a few times to make sure it all sounded like a real song. But mans is too tired so he called Chelsea. She answered after 3 rings.

“Michael August Winchester, you better have a good reason for waking me up at…3 in the morning?!? Why the hell are you calling me at 3 in the morning?” Chelsea asked.

“I finished the song, i need you to hear it, I need to know if it’s a good song.” Mike said.

“Why can’t Y/N listening to it?” Chelsea asked tiredly.

“Im not going to wake up my girlfriend at 3 in the morning, don’t be ridiculous.” Mike reasoned.

“You woke me up at..! You know what, doesn’t matter, I’ll call Derrick and we’ll go over the song before we call Teddy to have him hear the song. I’ll see you later.” Chelsea hung up.

Half an hour later, Chelsea and Derrick showed up, knocking on the kitchen door, Mike answered it.

“You know what time it is?” Derrick asked.

“Just listen to the song. I think it sounds good but I need you guys go play your parts too.” Mike said and they walked into the studio. Chelsea looked at the lyrics.

“Not bad at all, let’s see how it sounds.” Chelsea said. She picked up the bass and Derrick went to the drum set. After playing, Chelsea was smiling and so was Derrick.

“Winchester, the song is great. We’ll call Teddy later in the morning, like 10am, which is a very fucking reasonable hour by the way, we’re gonna crash on your guest room.” Derrick said, getting off the drum set chair.

“That sounds fair, you guys know where it is, goodnight, thanks for coming over.” Mike said.

“No problem, we’re all friends here, goodnight.” Chelsea said, putting down the bass. The theee of them left the studio, going to their rooms. Mike got in bed, spooning Y/N and she stored awake.

“Muñeco? What time is it?” Y/N asked.

“Don’t worry about, go to sleep, baby.” Mike kissed her cheek and both fell fast asleep.

The next day, the band is at Ellemar records with Teddy Price.

“There they are, there’s my favorite band! I heard you had a new song for me?” Teddy asked.

“Yes we do, Mike stayed up until 3am writing it, we think it’s great but we definitely need your expert ear.” Derrick said.

“Say no more, get into the recording booth, your instruments are all there, let’s see what you got.” Teddy said. He sat at the soundboard and gave the band the go ahead to start playing. Teddy was impressed. “Amazing song! Did you write it about your girl, Mike?” Teddy asked through the soundboard mic.

“Yeah, she’s my muse.” Mike said with a lovesick smile.

“I think we got a hit here so why don’t you guys take a break and we’ll record the instruments. Later Mike will hop into the recording booth and get vocals done. They will be your most popular album yet, take 10.” Teddy said.

A week later, they finished recording the song. A fee months later, after discussing the album cover, what songs go on the album, and tweaking and mastering the songs, they finally have a release date of the album.

“Our album comes out May 17!” Mike exclaimed, hugging Y/N before lifting her up and twirling her around.

“Que emoción, are you excited?” Y/N asked.

“Beyond excited! Especially because Teddy also got us a spot at Coachella! We’re going to be on the main stage on Saturday for both weekends.” Mike said.

“No way! You’re playing Coachella, that’s huge! Becky G was at Coachella last year, I wonder who else is part of the lineup.” Y/N said.

“I don’t know either but Teddy is managing everything, he got us booked in this fancy hotel, or he’s working in it, and of course since you’re my girl, you’re coming with me.” Mike said, kissing her.

“Will we get to enjoy the festival? Like when you’re not performing?” Y/N asked.

“I think we should be able to.” Mike said.

COACHELLA comes and the band is getting ready to perform.

“Everyone give it up for We Three!” They announced, the crowd starts screaming like crazy as the band got out.

“Hey everyone, we’re We Three and thank you so much for coming out here!” Mike exclaimed. We’re going to open the show with a song from our new album going out May 17. The song is called ‘Daydream’ and it goes out to my girl, I love you, you’re my dream girl, hope y’all like it.

She's all I read

She's all the literature that I'll ever need

She's poetry

But she's like the good kind that doesn't make me sleep

Her eyes are porn and she knows it

Won't shut her eyelids 'til she gets invited

We're not keeping score, but she's winnin'

Likes it when I'm singin', as long as it's for her

Daydreams, they feel like livin' when I'm dreamin' about her

She's all I breathe when I should be breathin' air

She knows I'm weak, yeah I

Daydream every day about the things we do at night

She likes the word, "Please"

But not the polite kind, the one in the sheets

She knows she's a tease

She's here for a good time then she's gonna leave

She'll start a war and she knows it

Won't stop her fighting 'til my flag is rising

We're not keeping score, but she's winnin'

Likes it when I'm singin', as long as it's for her

Daydreams, they feel like livin' when I'm dreamin' about her

She's all I breathe when I should be breathin' air

She knows I'm weak, yeah I

Daydream every day about the things we do at night

Daydreams, they feel like livin' when I'm dreamin' about her

She's all I breathe when I should be breathin' air

She knows I'm weak, yeah I

Daydream every day about the things we do at night

The crowd SCREAMED, they went crazy for the song, whether it was the lyrics itself or Mike’s guitar, the crowd loved it. They finished their slot and they went backstage, Mike saw Y/N with a teasing smile.

“Im your dream girl, huh? You daydream a lot about me?” Y/N asked, wrapping her arm around his neck.

“I daydream everyday about you. Whether it’s you in your lingerie, you cooking, coming home from work, you eating ice cream, I daydream about you.” Mike said.

“You’re so sweet.” Y/N said, leaning in to kiss him. Mike groaned into the kiss. “Wow, you really are weak.” Y/N laughed.

“You know I am, I could never say no to you, let’s go get some food because I’m starving, you think there’s tacos?” Mike asked.

“There should be, Coachella valley is heavily populated with Hispanics.” Y/N commented.

The End

Taglist: @warriormirkwood @shellyshellshell @marieksg

If Walter in general is called “Oso”, Mike who is bien caribonito, such a pretty boy, his nickname is definitely “muñeco”. What should Henry’s nickname be? Obviously besides the classic amor, mi vida. Maybe more Henry and Mike one shots in the future

[oliviaslabyrinth]

GomBurZa

I’m not familiar with the life story of Gomburza, aside from being the inspiration for Jose Rizal to write El Filibusterismo. It was probably the reason why I was able to enjoy the movie despite already knowing how it would end.

It was great to be able to know the story of the three priests that I only learned in passing during my school days. It was only through the movie that I found out some interesting facts about the priests, like their having Spanish ancestry, their ages when they died, and the moment that led to their execution. I should have done my research, I know. I should have been more informed about our national heroes, and spending my college years abroad is not an excuse for not knowing these facts. Didn’t you learn it in high school? To be honest, I don’t remember. I was more familiar with the lives of other notable heroes, like Gregorio Del Pilar, Andres Bonifacio, and, of course, Jose Rizal.

Going back to the film, I believe Cedrick Juan was a good choice for the role of Burgos, despite Enchong Dee being a more popular actor. He wasn’t a familiar face, so it wasn’t difficult for me to see him as Fr. Burgos. Unlike Piolo, despite having a remarkable role as Padre Pedro Pelaez, I only saw Piolo Pascual. It also didn’t help that I watched Mallari before watching Gomburza. 

Cedrick’s brilliant portrayal of Padre Burgos gave the character a separate identity away from Gomburza. He wasn’t just a martyr priest; he was a hero, at least in the eyes of his fellow priests, parishioners, and his students, who also tried to fight for equal rights for secular priests.

Padre Gomez was the true epitome of a martyr. Being the oldest, he became the solace of the younger priests, consoling them instead of wasting his time proving his innocence. He willingly accepted his fate and entrusted everything to the Lord. He reminded me of Jesus Christ. To be fair, he was already 72. He had lived a fruitful life and endured enough that he was almost ready to leave (it was still not fair to die that way, though). while Fr. Burgos and Fr. Zamora were only in their thirties. While life may not be ideal, no one’s ready to die that young. 

I wish I could find more information about the life of Fr. Zamora. The movie didn’t do him justice. Despite the great performance of Enchong Dee, I felt like Fr. Zamora was treated unfairly both by the Spaniards and the scriptwriter.

Fr. Zamora did not even have the opportunity to say his last words. He was already lifeless, even before he was executed. Being accused of something you didn’t do could cause trauma, let alone be sentenced to death for it.

It reminded me of that time when my third grade teachers embarrassed me in front of the other students and teachers. Two of my classmates fought because of a game. It was one of those stupid games where you would hit the person next to you, and he would pass it on to the person next to him. It was popular at the time, so it wasn’t the first time we played it. I was the unlucky person sitting between my two classmates. As I was busy drawing, I was absentmindedly “passing” the message to the other guy until I got annoyed and stopped. I had no idea what happened after I left them, minding my own business. Before I knew it, they were already hitting each other for real. Our class adviser was called, and my history teacher came too (I’m still confused about why she needed to be there), and they felt that someone should take the blame, and they both decided it would be me because the two were already hysterically crying and mentioning my name, putting the blame on me. For goodness’ sake, I didn’t tell those two morons to kill each other. How did it become my fault? They were the ones who were disturbing me in the first place. 

I wasn’t given the opportunity to explain my side, and the angry face of my teacher interrogating me made me a coward. I was a pushover and never had the courage to defend myself back then. I just accepted the unfair treatment and moved on. But I still think of it now, still upset and crying for justice. Before that incident, I dreamed of becoming a teacher, but I had already lost trust in teachers, so I decided to take a different path. This memory came back when I watched the life of Fr. Zamora.

Out of the three, I pity Fr. Zamora the most. He was the most innocent among the priests and was included in the execution because of bad luck. Some even questioned if he deserved the recognition. He only became a martyr due to a wrong timing. But a martyr is someone who became a sacrificial lamb for a supposedly greater good. Fr. Zamora is a martyr. He didn’t need to have a motive to be worthy of the recognition. His death symbolizes the injustices during the Spanish era and how unfair life was. He was a victim of the cruelty of the Spanish government, and his death provoked the Filipino people to rebel against the government. 

The actor who played Carlos María de la Torre was another great casting. He looked straight out of a history book, and he resembled the real governor-general a lot. His scenes were some of my favorites. He was a beacon of hope to the Filipinos and even to me as a viewer, at least for a short while, only to be let down.

If Fr. Gomez is Jesus Christ, Dela Torre is Pontius Pilate. His actions, though, were understandable. He was still a Spaniard and was put in a difficult spot. There was a limit to one’s generosity, and he wasn’t willing to risk his life for the Filipinos, who themselves were not willing to fight for their own nation. Besides, what can he do? Next to the highest leader of Spain, the King, his power is nothing. 

I can’t even talk about Francisco Zaldua, played by Ketchup Eusebio. I want to feel bad for him, being the fall guy of his rich amigos but I would like to think he got his karma.

It was nice to have a glimpse of Paciano’s life, as I only knew him as Jose Rizal’s brother. In the movie, Paciano brought a young Rizal to witness the execution. Although I read somewhere that the scene was merely fiction, Rizal was not present when the priests were executed. The ending showed an already older Rizal writing El Filibusterismo. At least in the movie, it gave a clear perspective on why Rizal dedicated El Filibusterismo to the martyrs and why he spent his life fighting for freedom. He witnessed the cruelty of the Spaniards at a young age. While kids today are watching TikTok videos, he was watching three innocent priests being executed publicly. 

Despite being a historical movie, it didn’t have a lot of brutal scenes. Even the execution was brief, which is fine, I guess, as the story was tragic enough.

Gomburza made me realize why the Catholic Church still plays a relevant role in the Philippines today. The Catholic Church is not just a major religion but a part of our history. Although it was used as a weapon to further enslave the indios, the secular priests contributed greatly to the Philippine Revolution. 

One of the unforgettable scenes that stuck with me was the conversation between Archbishop Gregorio Martinez and Governor General Rafael Izquierdo. The archbishop said in Spanish,

“Karamihan sa mga indiyo ay hindi magrerebelde. Dahil tayo, ang simbahan, ang nagturo sa kanilang maging masunurin.”

We see history repeating itself everyday. Some churches, not only Catholics, using the Bible to make people submit to church rules, while extorting them using emotional manipulation, which is why it’s important to know our history. 

[usaigi]

#confessions

Lunar sys au character cards | Read all chapters on ao3

#confessions

Pinned Messages

Jake [BOT]

Keep it light-hearted. Anything serious Steven will use against you and force you to talk about in therapy. Yes, this is a threat.

Marc [BOT]

Whenever I make tea for Steven I microwave the water

Steven 🦉[BOT]

Marc… I trusted you 😭

🐻Kid! ⚾️🧢[BOT]

I ate a cheeseburger on accident im really sorry!! 😔

Jake [BOT]

Oh.

Fuck were we supposed to keep kosher?

🕊 Birb 🦜[BOT]

!!!!!!!!!

YES!?

Wait, are we not?? D:

Jake [BOT]

I have a confession

I thought we were catholic until we were like 14

Like i always knew my dad was super religious but 

Steven 🦉[BOT]

How??? Why??? We went to Hebrew school, we had a bar mitzvah

The body's last name is Spector??

Jake [BOT]

You had a bat mitzvah, you went to Hebrew school. 

I just never put two and two together

In my defense, growing up I only fronted when I had to 

Or in Spanish class

Daniela [BOT]

No kids or birds ||I want to sleep with Layla||

Marc [BOT]

No.

Also that’s not a confession, we all know this already

Steven 🦉[BOT]

Thanks for telling us, Daniela. Maybe we can work towards that conversation with Layla and discuss boundaries and what we’re all comfortable with

Marc [BOT]

What no, absolutely not.

Daniela doesn’t get to be an antagonist jerk to us and snuggle with our wife

Steven 🦉[BOT]

Mate, I don’t want to repeat the 2025 fight we had. Remember, we are not competing over Layla’s love, she still loves you. If Daniela loves Layla romantically as well we need to discuss this, she deserve to at least have this conversation

Daniela [BOT]

Stop talking about me like I can’t read the chat 

Also Steven stfu I dont need you to white knight for me

All this talks about “open conversation” and “working together as a system” just you’re too much of a coward to talk to me. 

Marc [BOT]

message removed

No. Daniela didn’t even want us to date Layla in the first place, she kept telling me that I’m worthless and I’ll never be enough for her. And she did anything possible to sabotage our relationship by making me late/miss dates, deleting texts from Layla, lashing out at her

Daniela [BOT]

You didn’t deserve Layla, you still don’t. She’s still too good for you, murderer

I was doing that for her sake, maybe she’d wised up than to be with someone like you.

You nearly got her killed

It would have all been your fault

Marc [BOT]

Message removed

Daniela [BOT]

Stop deleting your messages, this is so childish.

Marc [BOT]

You’ve never even apologized for the years of torment. I know you’re different with Layla but seriously, you want me to be ok with this when you won’t even say you’re sorry for being a bully for all our life!?

Daniela [BOT]

Apologize!? ME!? What about you? When I BEGGED you to leave the army 

That was literally the worst time of my life and you never cared

I was FINALLY happy for the first time in my life after when we got out, without you. Without Steven. 

BUT despite everything I did and how much I begged, you went right back to work with ||Bushman||  

You NEVER apologize to me yet you want me to apologize to you

Come mierda

Jake [BOT]

We are not having this conversation over discord. Both of you, stop it.

@Jake is Keep it light-hearted. Anything serious Steven will use against you and force you to talk about in therapy. Yes, this is a threat.

Steven 🦉[BOT]

Both you better front during today’s session, I already texted Carol 

(the cooler) Mr. Knight [BOT]

I’m banned from 13 countries and there is an active warrant for our arrest in Texas

Also, who changed my username? 

---

Text message to Carol (Psychologist)

Lunar Sys

Hey Carol it’s Steven. Daniela just told us that she wants a physical relationship with our wife. To be honest, I’m really gutted over this. Marc got upset and went off on her in the chat long but to be honest, I think Marc has a point. It’s very unfair that Daniela has done the bare minimum to cooperate and be kind to the system yet still wants to be with our wife.

I know Daniela is hurting and just wants to be loved but still. 

I tried to be neutral and compromise and hear her out but now Marc is gone and I can’t reach him. Can we please talk about that today?

Carol (Psychologist)

Of course. See you this afternoon!

[seospicybin]

STRANGERS.

PART I

Lee Know x reader. (s,a)

Chapters: Part II

Author’s note: Sorry that I posted it twice, tumblr just won’t let me edit my previous post. ugh!

There's a Spanish proverb that says:

"When love is not madness. It is not love."

And you can't tell if what you're doing is either love or madness, there's no difference anymore, the line blurs, and so is your judgment.

You always think that it's the same anyway, we do all sort of crazy in the name of love.

And whatever that is, brings you here, working as a sports news journalist for a TV station.

"It's a big floor, but why our working space is this small?" You ask the girl who occupies the cubicle next to you, Kim, the only other girl in sports news.

There are only ten or so desks in the office, apart from office equipment, you share everything, from meeting rooms to the pantry.

"We share the floor with the world news team," she answers.

You don't need a further explanation about her answer, it's always the world news team that gets the best at everything, either news part or other golden child perks, that include having a bigger working place.

The only good thing the sports department has is that the office is so close to the elevator, remembering that most of you are working in the field covering sports games and such.

The elevator dings open, and a group of people spill out of it.

Kim rolls her chair until it crashes with yours, "Have you met the head of the world news team?" Her eyes flicked to the last man getting out of the elevator.

He wears a white shirt and black tie, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing the veins coiling his forearms, and a fancy watch decorated his wrist.

His dark hair slicked back, parted in the middle, and a few strands curtained his forehead. Eyes, lips, and a nose so sharp like you would prick your finger if you touched it.

"Lee Minho. A real piece of work! One stone-cold man, never seen him smile off camera, not even once," she says with such bitterness.

"But he's great at his job, everyone likes him, he's pleasant to the eyes, cameras want to fuck him, well, I bet he's good on the bed too," she cheekily adds with low giggles.

"The whole building wants to get a chance with him, but only a few can handle that attitude of his," she finishes the introduction with a condescending pout.

Your eyes follow his figure making his way to his office with hands shoved inside his slacks pockets.

You scoff at her short yet detailed introduction of him.

"He's mysterious too, like… no one knows his existence outside of here," she adds, then props a hand under her chin, staring at him until he gets inside his office.

"He sounds... intriguing," you comment with a sheepish smile.

She turns her head at you, "well, I'd rather salivate over the sweaty man at the volleyball court,"

You smile at her and nod, "sounds like a great idea!"

She gives you a joyous look, "I know we'll get along just fine," she remarks, playfully bumping her shoulder with yours.

You smile at her in return, "likewise,"

"I'd better get back working," she says, then rolls her chair back against her desk and starts typing on her computer.

-

You met the man several times already in the week you have been working at the TV station.

You met him in the elevator, clutching his briefcase in front of him while his eyes looked down at his phone, and his hands were busy typing on it.

In the pantry where you both made your cups of coffee, he stood at the other end of the counter and you on the opposite end, stirring your coffee in silence.

You walked past each other a lot in the office, it's inevitable, remembering the shared working place.

And your eyes would find each other and locked for a second before breaking the eye contact at the same time.

By the end of the week, you moved to a new apartment provided by the TV station, and you only need to pay other bills besides the rent.

You drag the last three boxes of your belongings into the elevator.

It comes as no surprise that he also lives in the building, he was in his workout attire when you find him inside the elevator, leaning with his arms crossed in front of him.

He wears his hat low and it covers most of his face with the shadow, you push the boxes inside with your feet and carry the smallest one in your hands.

You glance at the panel and see that he already pushed the button to the 8th floor where you are also headed.

It's so quiet inside the elevator, that you clutch the box tighter until your knuckles turn white to hold back the urge to break the suffocating silence.

After an agonizing ride up to the 8th floor, the elevator finally arrives on your floor, and the doors open.

He stands on his feet and makes his way out of the elevator, not batting even an eyelash at you.

You don't expect him to help you either and spare yourself from being disappointed.

It's getting more inevitable, meeting him, and especially knowing that he lives next door.

You meet him the next morning, dressed up for work, and are looking at his watch when you get in.

You get out at the lobby since you haven't gotten a car yet, you have to take the bus at least until the company lends you a car or you get one yourself.

While he goes to the parking basement, again, you don't expect him to offer you a ride after all.

Once you arrived at the office, you headed back out with your team to interview the newly scouted player of a major league baseball team.

It surprised that you knew him from when he was still playing for his university baseball team, it is kind of amazing seeing people around you grow when you feel like you're still in the same place.

And it seems like he recognized you too, he smiles at you the moment he sees you.

"Aren't you working for the newspaper?" He asks you as he brushes his hair to the back, then put his baseball cap on. It amazes you that he still knows you despite you only interviewing him three times in 5 years.

"I was, but now I'm working for the TV station," you answer, then offer your hand for a handshake.

He takes your hand without a doubt and shakes it.

"Congratulations on becoming a major league player, Kim Seungmin," you sincerely congratulated him.

"Oh please, just call me Seungmin!" he says with a bright smile that somehow resembles a puppy.

"Maybe I will when we're off-camera," you tell him, then break the handshake but not forgetting to return the smile.

You have always liked him from the first day you met him, you can tell that he is a well-mannered, modest guy and a very, very talented baseball player.

The interview went well, and it's all thanks to him for making it pleasant for both of you.

"I'm glad that I see you," he suddenly says as you wait for the other to be done packing the equipment.

"Why is that?" You ask as you put your notebook into your bag.

"This city still feels strange to me, so it feels nice to see a familiar face," he honestly answers, pulling his cap lower to hide his face out of shyness.

"I also just moved back here two weeks ago, I know exactly how you feel," you shot him a comforting smile.

"Will we be seeing each other again soon?" He asks with a sheepish smile.

It's so subtle, but you know he's being flirty with you, he is two years younger than you yet he still looks like the same college baseball player you met 5 years ago.

"I hope I get to see you again after winning your first major league game," you respond.

He softly chuckles and fiddles with the sleeve of his varsity jacket out of nerves.

You don't realize you just put pressure on him, you quickly tap his shoulder, "you'll do well! Good luck!" You encouraged him and put on a smile for him.

"Thank you," he responds then shoves his hands into his jacket pockets.

You made it back, and just in time for lunch, Kim suddenly nudges your elbow while you're about to shove a spoonful of rice into your mouth, almost sending it spilled all over the table.

"Look at that!" She says while shaking your forearm now.

She gestures to the two people talking outside a coffee shop.

You wipe your mouth with a napkin before speaking, "what is it?" You ask, ready to listen to any gossip she is about to share.

"Heard they're getting it on," she says with a straw tugged between her teeth.

You scoff then takes a sip of water, looking at the couple talking while holding coffee cups in their hands, you take a good look at them to finally realize it's Minho and a girl you have never seen before.

"Who is the girl?" You try to sound coy and hastily take a sip of your water.

"Heard she's the producer of that one variety show," she replies.

That's enough information to take in, for now, you continue eating your lunch in silence while Kim keeps on blabbering around about why they would make a couple eventually.

But you have to disagree with her, instead of saying it, you swallow it down and let it buried deep inside you.

The next day, you came late to work by 15 minutes because the bus broke down in the middle and you had to take a taxi to finally make it to the office.

Your heart skips a beat when the head of the sports news team catches you come creeping to your desk, trying to go unnoticed but failing.

"Hey, I watched the interview from yesterday," he says to you from someone's cubicle.

He then put a thumb up at you, "Wow, you do a great job at it," he says to you, "keep up the good work!"

You awkwardly smile at him, relieved that it's not about you coming late to work but also not a fan of how he delivers his praise.

"Always in a tone of surprise!" You mutter under your breath.

After years of working in a male-dominated job, you get used to hearing praises that implies men still find it amazing that women can do a good or even a better job than them.

You don't mean for anyone to hear it, but from the way Kim chuckles, you bet she heard it.

She stretches her hands in the air and sigh, "it's so nice to have another girl on the team," she says with a gleeful smile.

You plop down your chair and sigh, "I know,"

She swivels her chair around to face you, "anyway, we have team dinner tonight!" She informs, then rolls her chair back to her desk.

Not even a minute, Kim already pokes her head into your cubicle, "I hope you're good with alcohol," she warns you.

It baffles you that when everyone knows there'll be team dinner tonight, all of a sudden, the sports news team becomes twice the number that you have to take the second elevator along with Kim, the head of sports news, and the other two journalists.

When the elevator arrives, everyone comes rushing in, and there he is, also getting in seconds away before the doors slide shut.

"Hey, come join us for drinks!" Your head of sports news said to him.

He puts on a thin smile and says, "no, thanks, I'm good,"

There's an awkward silence followed after.

"Have you met the new journalist on our team?" Your boss asks him.

You don't know which you hate more, the fact that you know he wouldn’t care about it or being the center of attention, especially in a closed space like this.

And your boss gestures his hand at you.

"Have you met the head of world news?" He asks you.

You can't say no, because you've seen him often, whether it's at work or home, or...

"She's amazing, she's doing a great job at it," he brags at Minho, which he looked so not bothered at all with the information.

"Thanks," you meekly mutter to your boss to put an end to this unpleasant exchange.

You can feel your chest loosen the moment you get out of the elevator, and it keeps on loosening with every glass of alcohol you gulped down as the night goes by.

Kim was right to warn you about everyone being heavy drinkers, you get around it by taking a lot of trips to the restroom and quickly filling your glass with water before someone pours alcohol in it.

Kim's boyfriend kindly gave you a lift home at the end of the night. Before going up to your floor, you collect your mails from your mailbox even though your head is completely buzzed from all the alcohol surging through your body system.

You hear someone else is also opening their mailbox next to you, you don't have to know who it is since you know who lives next to you.

You clutch all of your mails close to your chest, then head to the elevator, scanning your mails one by one as you wait for the elevator to arrive.

When it dings open, you hurriedly get in and followed by him getting in after you. You shove your mails into your bag and lean against the wall of the elevator.

"What are you trying to do?" He asks you without looking your way.

And there it is, your first contact with him after months of radio silence, unread texts that you sent him, unreturned calls and the first thing he asks is your intention.

"Nice to know I’m no longer invisible to you,” you sneer.

You see him standing just a close distance from you with his back facing you. So close yet so far. Within grasp yet you can’t touch him.

You hear him inaudibly sigh, "I will not change my mind," he says and it sounds final.

"I know," you meekly say.

He doesn't hesitate to walk out the second the elevator slides open and leaves you behind, alone like you had been all these few months after he broke up with you.

-

It's sad the way you act like strangers.

After all of you had together, he acts as if the two of you had never met.

You understand that you left too much mess and hurt him to the point that there's no going back to the way you were.

You do know and understand why he acts like that.

You convinced yourself that you can be nobody to him but oh… the feeling, it never came to an ending. He will forever be more than just a passing fancy to you.

When you saw him again that day, you can't lie that it hurts when he saw you like you were see-through, invisible, nothing.

There were so many times when you felt like you just wanted to blurt out and say, "I still love you", despite knowing that you shouldn't be, or tell him that.

Even if you didn't say it, you'd still have felt it. It is still there and forever will, along with that lingering regret of letting him go.

Just like the thought summoned him, you see him walking from the opposite end of the hallway.

When you both meet in the middle, he locked eyes with you for a second.

Even in that one second, you can't find the person you are deeply in love with.

Minho.

Who acts cold and nonchalant, but is actually warm from the inside, overflowing with charms.

He deeply cares for someone he loves, he takes care of you well, he has a beautiful smile that can easily cure your sorrows, he rarely said 'I love you' but often showed it through actions, and when he did say those three words, he meant it with all of his heart that your heart ached when you heard it.

You drag yourself to get into the elevator that takes you to your apartment floor, followed by someone who gets in just right in time before it slides shut, you glance at her and see the girl Minho talked with in front of the coffee shop, the one Kim gossiped to have a shot with Minho.

She shot you a smile as she caught you looking at her, you return the smile and turn your head back, straight ahead.

The elevator arrives at your floor, she goes straight to Minho's apartment and rings his doorbell without hesitation.

You can't help but stall as you unlock your door.

A moment later, Minho opens the door for her and keeps it open to let her in as he welcomes her with a smile.

You catch a sight of him closing the door as the smile fades from his face, like knowing that you were watching in on him.

You don't even deserve a smile, you remind yourself.

You can't sleep, you lay awake on your bed listening to the subtle noise they're making in the apartment next to you with all the lights turned out.

You hate to think of Minho being with somebody else.

Knowing that he's having someone over at his apartment makes you think of nothing, but him lying on the bed with her next to him.

She gets to feel the warmth of his body, touches his honey skin, the prominent veins on his arms, the taut of his muscles, and ultimately, his presence, wholly and completely.

You hear the faint sounds of laughter after laughter which makes you ask yourself when was the last time someone made you laugh like that.

You get sad that someone is Minho.

Your eyes fluttering shut now listening to the sound of fervent heavy breathings through the wall, the occasional low moans you hear, and rings in your ears.

You avert your thoughts to think that it was you he is touching right now, replace his hand with your hand and start touching yourself like he would do to you, in feather-like touches that always worked to make you tingle inside.

"Minho..." you call out his name, whispery and low like you were calling a divine living.

You slip your hands under your nightdress and keep touching yourself, imagining his mouth pressed close to your ears, replaying the saccharine words he always muttered to you.

"You're so beautiful,"

"Honey, I like the noises you make,"

"You always feel good around me,"

"I love you very much, honey,"

"My honey..." he once said with a breathy, hoarse voice, too fucked out to form full-on romantic praise for you.

You cup your breasts with your hands, softly kneading the flesh, and pinch your nipples until they harden.

You picture him taking them into his eager mouth, his tongue swirling around your hardening buds like they're candies. You move one hand down south and put your hand inside your underwear, tracing your delicate flesh, and found it already wet, wet just from the thoughts of him alone.

"Minho," you desperately call to the void in your bedroom.

You begin circling your clit to bring pleasure, moaning with every burning sensation for more until you can't take it anymore. Your body shakes, writhing with overwhelming, immense pleasure with your hand clamps between your legs.

"Minho..." you call him again as you reeling from the orgasm you brought on yourself.

You open your eyes after having them screwed shut the entire time you were touching yourself and find nothing but the grim, dark of your bedroom and the slivers of pale moonlight shining through your blinds.

A sudden thudding sound jolt you awake from your reverie and break the chain of your dreamy imagery of him touching you.

The thudding sound comes out repetitive, and the heavy breathing grows louder, louder enough that you can't ignore it.

You believe he is fucking her against the wall, and he probably does it on purpose for you to hear everything.

-

"Noona, are you okay?"

You don't know how many times he has been asking you that he shakes your forearm for you to finally answer him.

“Uhm... yes?”

"You look pale," Seungmin says.

You are interviewing him again during his practice, at his team's baseball field as he prepares for his first major league game of the season.

"I'm okay. I just couldn't sleep last night," you reply with a convincing smile.

He nods his head and smiles back, "how about I treat you to lunch after the interview?" He asks.

You have rejected him enough to the point you feel bad saying no again to him, it’s only lunch, after all, no harm in it.

"Sure, but I'm going to make you treat me to something expensive," you tease.

He chuckles, "oh wow, okay," he says, a little flustered.

"And you have to treat the other two guys who came with me too," you tease again, pointing to the guys who set the camera and other equipment needed for the interview.

All of a sudden, you hear shouting from across the field and Seungmin comes rushing to your side.

It's too late to realize a ball is coming your way and hits you hard on the face.

The next thing you know, you are in the ambulance with ice packs on one side of your face and a neck brace.

Fortunately, there's nothing serious, no bone fracture despite the ball was going fast, at least 60mph.

But your jaw aches whenever you open your mouth, even a slight move to sip water hurts so much.

"I'm so sorry," Seungmin says to you, he looks so distraught like he is the only one responsible for this accident.

You wave him off, "it's an accident and I'm okay,"

"You should go back to practice," you tell him while pressing an ice pack to your bruised jaw.

"I-," he pauses to find an excuse to stay.

"It's okay, you can treat me to lunch next time," you tell him with a thin smile.

"I'm sorry," he says again even though he wasn't the one who pitched the ball.

"It's okay, just go back to your practice," you assure him and playfully shoo him away.

You insist on finishing your work real quick even though the office lets you go home early. Kim gasps seeing the bruise in her jaw turn into a deep shade of blue, she makes it dramatically loud for everyone to hear.

"Why are you still here?" She asks you in disbelief.

"Do you want me to drive you home?"

What she actually means by that is calls her boyfriend and tells him to drive you home.

"I'll go as soon as I finish this,"

You take a taxi home, but it starts to frustrate you that you can't eat anything because it's hurt to chew. You drink a bottle of juice and take another painkiller then try to get some rest.

Your doorbell ring once, for a second, maybe you imagined it since you have just woken up from your nap. You get up from bed and trudge your way to the door, opening it to find no one but a bag of food hung on the handle of the door.

You poke your head outside to see if someone delivered the wrong food order to your apartment, but the hall is empty.

You take the bag inside, to the kitchen then open it to find a bowl of porridge inside.

You quickly take a spoon and eat it, humming in satisfaction since you haven't had a decent meal since this morning.

-

Your eyes widen when Seungmin is the one who walks up to your first, not the other way around.

"Aren't you going to interview me?" He asks you with that puppy smile of his.

"Yes, of course, but I can wait," you reply with a smile.

It's his first game and the first win he got with his new team, so many people want to interview him, but he chooses you first. You like the privilege he provides you but still, you have to keep it professional.

"I'll patiently wait for my turn," you say to him.

When it's finally your turn, you congratulate him first with a handshake, which, he gladly takes.

"Is it alright now?" He asks you, pointing to your bruised jaw that you tried to conceal with layers of foundation, but it's still apparent.

"It's still tender, but it's alright," you answer.

"I'm sorry, I was late to warn you," he apologized for the umpteenth time even though it was days ago the accident happened.

"Please, it gives me an excuse to ask you to treat me to something expensive," you joke.

"I can do that," he adds with a shy smile.

You don't reply but smile back at him and begin to interview him before you get tempted to tease him again because of how he would adorably react to it.

-

You meet the girl Minho is seeing in the elevator again and she goes straight to Minho's apartment and you unlock the door fast, this time trying not to care and just get inside.

The thought that you'll hear them again through the thin wall that separates your apartment from his, annoys you so much that you decide to get out once you changed your clothes.

You went to the convenience store close to your apartment building and drink canned beers until you were boozy enough to get back to your apartment.

You find Minho is sorting trash right outside the building, it surprises you because it's only a little after midnight and him doing a chore at this hour only means the girl has left.

He walks behind you to the elevator and watches you push the button, waiting for the elevator in the empty lobby of the apartment building.

Inside the elevator, you catch him glancing at you through the reflection of the shiny surface of the elevator door.

You look down to see what you're wearing, and realize that you are wearing his hoodie, the one he left behind in your place before you two broke up.

He opens his mouth to speak but all that comes out is a yawn.

He just doesn't know that you wear his clothes to bed on a night like this, to catch the scent of his that clung to the fabric that always provides you a sense of comfort and reminds you of the way his body wrapped around you, makes you feel less alone and held.

-

Kim is talking to you as she waited for you to finish peeing inside the stall when suddenly she talks to someone else.

"Heard things are going great with you with Mr. Nighttime news," she says.

You figure that since she mentioned Minho's nickname on the TV station, she is talking to the girl he's seeing. You stay quiet inside even though you're done with your business inside the stall, afraid that she'll recognize you and let Kim know you're living next to Minho.

You can imagine her asking you everything about living next to him, and it already gives you a headache.

The other girl giggles, "well, so far so good,"

"You know not everyone can get to this level," Kim teases her.

The girl giggles again, "oh no, please," but her please demands more questions from Kim.

"I won't ask you about anything else, but is he good?"

"What?"

Through the crack of the toilet door, you can see Kim nudges her elbow, "girl, you know what I'm talking about," she riles her the best way.

"Well..." she stops there and doesn't say anything else.

"Okay, okay, I get you. But how far are you in the relationship?" Kim asks, doesn’t want to pressure her.

You unconsciously lean in so close, intently listening and looking forward to her answer but unfortunately, she turns on the faucet, and you can't hear her answer through the sound of the water running.

You sigh in disappointment and get out of the stall once the girl left the restroom.

You have no business asking Kim about what they talked about earlier, you decide to let it go and let the thought slip away.

Good thing you have just the right distraction, which is meeting Seungmin when you get off work.

"You're not here to see me, right?" You can't help but feel a little overconfident about it.

He smiles, "No, I happen to have an interview for a TV show," he answers while scratching the back of his neck.

You stifle a laugh, "Well, how silly of me!” you grimace, embarrassed. 

"But I’m thinking of taking you out for dinner," he trails his words, unsure if you would agree with his idea.

"As a change for that lunch I promised you," he continues with eyes staring at you deeply as if he's manifesting something into your head.

"Yeah, sure," you answer.

He happens to come at the right time when you need something to avert your mind off of Minho.

"I was joking when I said treat me something expensive," you beam as you sit across from him in a fine dining restaurant.

"Well, let's just say we're having a celebratory dinner for my first win," he suggests.

You purse your lips for a moment and smile, "that's better!”

Seungmin looks so good tonight, he's wearing a dark blue fitted shirt that accentuates his broad shoulders and he keeps the hairstyle from the TV interview.

In contrast to his soft facial features and cute smiles, his eyes intensely gaze at you, and a sly smirk flashes once in a while in between conversations.

He drives you home, and the music he plays slowly lulls you to sleep.

You wake up to him gazing out of the windshield of his car with streams of water running down the foggy glass from the heavy rain.

The car is already parked right outside your apartment building.

You groan out loud that it startles him, "I didn't mean to fall asleep,"

He softly chuckles, "It's alright,"

You rest your head on the headrest of the passenger's seat, also staring out at the rain.

"Has it been raining long?" You stretch out a little.

"No, it only has been a few minutes," he answers.

He reclines on his seat and presents you with a view of his side profile, he looks good from any angle anyway. He’s just that good-looking.

You quickly snap yourself out of your daze, "anyway, thank you for dinner. It was nice," you deliver your gratitude with a touch on his arm.

He turns his head at you and smiles, "I'm glad.”

Without warning, his hand reaches for your jaw and gently brushes the skin so lightly with his knuckles, "is it better now?"

You shouldn't look into his eyes, but you don't know why your body betrays you just like that, "yeah," you reply, your voice dropping so low.

You slowly jerk your head away and get your bag, sling it across your shoulder, "I'll get going,”

He waits until you look at him again to say, "Goodnight!"

"Goodnight!" You say back with a sweet smile, then get out of his car. You run until you get to the entrance of the building, and turn around to wave at him before finally parting with him.

But that's also the end of the distraction you needed, something nudges your arm making you startled, looking over your shoulder to find Minho tapping your shoulder with an envelope.

"Your mail got into my mailbox," he says.

You stare at the mail and wonder why he bothers to tell you about it when he can just shove it into your mailbox instead of making a contact like this.

"Thanks," you mutter then take the mail from him.

You grip the handle of your bag so hard during the whole elevator ride up, fighting the urge to ask him about the girl he is seeing.

You let out the breath you have been holding once you got out of the elevator, be the one who gets out first and gets inside your apartment.

It's one of those nights again, where everything just comes back rushing in like floodwaters.

Minho and his sly smiles, his hands that impatiently touching you, holding you close, on the bed next to each other telling you random thoughts because he knows no one else would get it except you.

 "Do you know why I love you?" he suddenly asked while threading his fingers with you under the cover.

"Because I'm hot," You playfully answered while laughing.

He pinched the flesh of your thigh, then kissed your shoulder, "that too, but there's one specific thing that I love about you," he said.

You turned on the bed to face him and used his hand as a pillow, "what is that?"

He held your face with a hand on your jaw, "when I hold you like this, you're always blinking slowly and deliberately like that," he explained, "like a cat,"

"Yeah?"

He nodded.

"Meow," you mewled like a kitten.

He softly laughed, then kissed you on the lips, soft and quick with a hand that squeezed your hip.

"Meow-meow," you mewled again at him while nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck.

"That means I want more kisses," you told him, but you didn't wait for him to give you one. You pressed your lips on him, slightly opening your mouth to take his lips in yours, gently sucking on his lips and nibbling on them.

You mischievously licked his lips like a cat would do, then giggled.

It took him aback for a second, but he licked his wet lips to taste you on his.

"What a cute little kitten!" he exclaimed with a sly smirk then crashed himself on you, kissing you hard and down your pillow.

 You can almost taste his lips on you, the softness, the plush, the warmness of them on yours, the way his lips glide over yours then take your lips on his.

And the little things that come with it, the way he likes to graze the tip of your nose with his before sinking his mouth on you, the hand that holds your chin to keep you still, the sigh he makes between kisses, and the smile against your lips as he makes witty remarks.

Or just to call you by the preferred pet name he likes to call you with.

"Honey..." with that mix of sweet and seductive tone, you still don’t know how he makes that possible.

"Minho..." you call again, hoping he can hear you desperately calling for him through the thin wall.

A tear escapes the corner of your eyes, sending it to roll down the side of your face.

The fact that he lives so close to you, only makes you unbearably sad. He's the closest he has ever been since he broke up with you, but he is still out of your grasp, endlessly tantalizing you.

-

You don't know how he ended up here, sitting across from you and acting like nothing ever happened between you.

You don't know how the sports news and the world news teams got together for a team dinner.

"Pour a drink for him!" Your boss nudges your elbow, gestures to the empty shot glass of Minho, and derails your train of thoughts.

You reluctantly obey and fill his glass with alcohol, but he refuses.

“I’m driving here,” He says to your boss.

This is the perfect time to get completely drunk and let everything be background noise to your life, including him.

But it's hard to gulp down your drink when the person who reminds you of the biggest regret of your life is sitting right in front of you.

Kim is not much help, she is resting her head on your shoulder, her cheeks blushed from the amount of alcohol she consumed that she barely functions anymore.

"I heard you dating that pretty variety show producer," your boss asks him, slurring his words yet he keeps mixing his poison in his glass.

Minho sheepishly smiles at him, "I'm not dating anyone," he answers, shutting down every rumor with such simple words.

Your boss chuckles at him, "how nice to be young and single, you get to date around," he enviously says.

He drinks the whole glass down and gasps, then winces at the bitterness of the alcohol.

"How come I never heard you dating anyone before?" Your boss suddenly asks him.

Your heart starts racing inside of you, putting your hands down under the table so no one can see how tight you clench your hands into fists.

Minho pours himself a drink and gulps it in one go, "that's because," he pauses to hiss at the alcohol, "I never dated anyone before," he finishes his sentence, his eyes locked with yours for a few seconds.

Nothing comes in contact with you, but you can feel the insufferable pain of being stabbed right to the chest.

"I don't believe you," your boss snickers at him, "a handsome man like you never dated before," he states in disbelief.

"No one ever comes to that extent," he says as he stares down his empty glass.

And you're losing the air in your chest the longer you stay at the table.

"Excuse me, I have to go to the restroom," you excuse yourself, and without waiting for anyone to reply, you run to the back entrance and retch for air.

You lean against stacks of crates filled with empty beer bottles, it makes a clinking sound as you rest your back against it, slump down until you squat down and hug your knees, clamping your head between your knees, and stay like that until you compose yourself enough to go back inside.

You're holding Kim with her arm around your shoulder, sitting on the empty bench just outside the restaurant.

"Are you my boyfriend?" She asks you with her head lolled on your shoulder.

"No, Kim! Your boyfriend is on the way to pick you up," you answer, keeping her steady by holding her head with one hand.

His boyfriend's car pulled up at the side of the road, he gets out of the car to help get Kim inside the backseat of his car.

"Do you need a lift?" He asks you.

"No thanks, you better get her home fast," you told him then closed the door of the car door.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'll take a taxi," you assure him.

"Be careful then!" He says to you, then jogs to the opposite side of the car to drive away.

A taxi comes to pick you up, offering his service, but when you're about to open the door, someone stops you.

Minho leans down to talk to the taxi driver, "I'm sorry, but we're not taking the taxi," he says.

You look at him rather blankly, and he looks back at you, "I'll take you home," he says.

You recognize right away from the tone that he's not asking nor offering, he commands you to go home with him.

You comply without saying anything from the moment you got into his car to him parking his car in the basement parking of your apartment building.

None of you move or are in hurry to get out of the car, and Minho turns off the car engine, making it even quieter than it already is.

You take a deep breath, to muster the courage to speak up, "did I hurt you that much?”

He let the words resound inside the car until the sound becomes nonexistent anymore.

He decides not to answer.

"Did I hurt you that much that the year we spent together became nothing to you?" You look away from his direction but being with him like this only makes you exposed and vulnerable, like an open wound.

You have been holding your tears for far too long that once you start crying, the tears won't stop coming out of your eyes.

It seems like Minho decides not to say anything. But that nothing speaks so much, so loud.

It means that, yes, you hurt him so much he can't fathom it in words.

And it hurts you even more.

You unbuckle your safety belt and dash out of his car, taking the emergency stairs instead of the elevator.

You don't want to see him, not after finding out that you hurt him so much that he has no words for it.

You keep climbing the stairs until you run out of breath, you break down on the steps and cry, letting it all out, and let the echo of your cries reminds you of how much it hurts to you too.

You realize how much pain you’ve caused him, for misjudging his limits, pushing him too far, taking him for granted.

You are so conceited to ever think that he wouldn't leave you.

You are so stupid to ever think he'd gladly take you back again with open arms.

While in reality, you are cruel. You're so selfish and heartless.

A sorry won't be enough, never will.

As of that moment, you promise yourself to not make his life harder or try to return to the way you both were.

You take these feelings that you still have for him as a punishment, a curse you put yourself into, and suffer it yourself.

-

It takes time to finally be able to make yourself a background character in his life.

You avoid seeing him, either at work or home. You go to work earlier than him and go home later than him. You do a lot of work in the field than in the office, but of course, there are times when you meet each other.

When it happens, you bite your tongue and let him pass.

And you will keep doing it until he thinks that you moved on.

"You missed the grand scene!" Kim says to you, whispering gossip like she usually does whenever she gets to see you back from the field.

"Mr. Nighttime news just scolded someone in his team. I don't know what got into him, but he looked so hot mad like that," Kim explains with giggles at the end.

"You're deranged!" You poke fun at her.

She shrugs innocently, "I also heard he broke up with that producer," she adds.

"What a shame that I have to miss all that!" You say with fake enthusiasm.

"Are you going again?" She asks.

"Yeah, I have to cover to help the guys covering soccer," you reply as you shove your things into your bag.

"Girl, we're all paid the same, slow down your roll,"

"Who said that I get paid the same as you?" You joke at her and stick your tongue out at her.

She kicks your office chair until it hits your knee, making you lose your balance, and sending you to topple to the side.

Luckily, someone catches you at the right time.

"Thank you," you muttered to him.

When you look up, Minho is looking down at you. You quickly retract yourself from him, then head inside the elevator that happens to be stopping on your floor.

It has been raining towards the end of the summer, and soon enough, the autumn air would start blowing cold winds your way.

You hate it that when the cold weather comes, all you remember is how Minho used to be worried for all the stray cats and wonder if they all have homes to shelter in.

It's a shame that everyone doesn't know this side of him, the side that he keeps hidden, at how thoughtful and soft-hearted he can be.

You squat down, looking down at the kitten hiding between a stack of folded boxes near the recycle bin, mewling at you, asking for help.

"I don't even know if I'm allowed to have a pet in the building," you say to the blue-eyed and grey furry kitten.

It keeps mewling, desperately seeking shelter and seeing the hope in you.

You hide the kitten inside your hoodie, then take the emergency stairs to prevent anyone from seeing you bringing a cat into the building.

You make a bed for the cat with a folded blanket in the pantry then place a bowl of water to drink.

You crouching down, watch it drinking the water in kitten licks.

"What should I call you?" You ask the kitten.

You pet its head, and it starts purring, "you have until tomorrow to think of a name," and it mewls in response.

You go to work early like usual, but Minho is unusually early on that day, you meet him inside the elevator.

Once it arrived in the lobby, you swiftly make your way out and leave him alone on his elevator ride down to the basement parking.

And work was such a drag, you wait a little later to come home to avoid seeing Minho on your way home.

Someone is waiting for you in the lobby and smiles so brightly at the sight of you.

"Hey, you work late?" He asks you.

"Seungmin, what are you doing here?" You ask in surprise.

"You have another interview?" Not getting ahead of yourself this time.

"No," he shakes his head, "I'm waiting for you,"

"Huh?" You blinked your eyes at him.

"Can we have dinner? Together?" He asks, rubbing his palms over his jeans out of nerves.

"Oh," it surprises you that he really does come to see you.

"Yes," you answered.

He treats you to another fancy dinner, after several meals and glasses of wine later, you catch Seungmin staring at you.

"Why are you staring at me?" You asked, putting down your wine glass, empty with no drop of wine left in it.

"You're beautiful. What else do people stare at you?" He asks you back.

He's smart and good-looking, he has that right amount of wit in him, such a catch!

You laugh at him, biting your lower lip, holding yourself from flirting back at him. You can't blame yourself for how your body reacts to his words, blushing profusely without you intended to.

"Can I talk to you?" He asks you, putting his hands down flat on the table, only inches away from yours.

"Aren't we already talking?" You ask back with a sly smile.

"Can I have your full attention then?" He asks you again with that wit of his.

You nod at him but do not say anything.

"I think you already know that I have feelings for you, Noona," he says to you, the glints in his eyes glimmering, looking alive more than he already is.

You nod again, not like you can get around it by playing dumb, you're not a schoolgirl anymore.

"We don't have to decide everything now. I just hope we can get to know each other better," he says to you, his hand finally reaching for you on the table.

"Take things slowly and take things further when we ready," he continues.

"But I can't decide this on my own," his eyes looking straight into yours.

"I'm asking if," he lifts your hand on the table and intertwines it with his, "I have your permission?"

And he is considerate too. What's not to like about him?

Your heart still aches for Minho but maybe trying to love someone else would help you move on from this part of your life that you find hard to get past.

The wound takes time to heal, but perhaps, Seungmin can also mend you back and make you better.

"Yes," you confidently said, hoping that the wound you carry won't bleed all over him.

You collapse onto the bed once you get back home and play the broadcast of Minho's nighttime news on your phone, letting Minho's voice fill the quiescent of your apartment, fold your hands under your head and close your eyes.

-

Minho didn't mean to act that way.

Your return to his life took him by surprise he didn't know how to react to it.

He is still hurting, he still thinks of his decision of breaking up with you over and over again until his head hurts.

He is still in love with you, but the pain still lingering inside him tells him to act the opposite way.

Ultimately, he didn't expect you to go this length to win him back.

When he broke up with you that night, you accepted his decision without saying anything and he thought that was what you really wanted.

And you hurt him back by treating him the same way he treated you. It felt like you really knew him, but now it feels like you see right through him.

It hurts him that he couldn't take care of you after seeing your bruised jaw. It hurts him that you have to talk formally to him. It hurts him that even when he looks at you and you look at him, no one has anything to say.

It also hurts him for hurting an innocent girl and dragging her to join in on his scheme to make you jealous.

On that night, he put another test on you, gave you a taste of how great of a pain he had been dealing with since he broke up with you, by telling you how you meant nothing to him.

But it only hurts him more.

Seeing you cry, sobbing with your hands clenched so tight as if to restrain yourself from bursting out of sadness and pain.

He so badly wanted to hold you, asking if you're okay, telling you that it hurts him more than it did to you, telling you how much he wants another chance to start it again with you.

But there seems to be no way back, not after what he had done to you. He blames his selfishness, his immature, hot-headed self for it.

It hurts and it hurts and it hurts. It's pain after pain. An endless torment to both, you and him.

He doesn't realize how much he still cares for you, loves you, craving your presence in his life like oxygen.

These past few weeks had convinced him, no matter how much he doesn't want to believe it, that you have moved on from him.

He saw you going on a date with that baseball player you interviewed a handful of times. He unconsciously followed you two and had dinner by himself just watching the two of you talk and eventually, holding hands.

He was sure he wouldn't regret his decision for breaking up with you.

As he stared at the way you looked back at him with a smile that he was greatly familiar with then he felt it, a hit of tremendous regret.

But if it's the only way he can see you smiling like that, he doesn't mind, he would endure the pain for it.

Even though, it’s painful to see that you are happy without him.

When he came home that night, he sat on the sofa and stayed there in the dark, he pulled out his phone to play videos of you and him together on a picnic.

 You were nagging at him for taking bad pictures of you, laughing at the camera, trying to snatch his phone away from him.

"Not fair," you shouted at him in the video.

"Give it to me! I better take the pictures myself," you nagged at him and struggled to get his phone from him.

"I promise, this time I'll take good pictures of you," he said to you.

You rolled your eyes at him, doubting his promise, and tricked him by pretending to give in when you tried to snatch his phone again.

"You can't fool me!" He said to you.

You swat his hand instead, sending his phone dropped onto the picnic mat.

You crawled to grab the phone, but he stopped you, grabbed you by your waist, and pulled you closer until you both lay on the mat.

He grabbed the phone and filmed you both lying next to each other.

"You've been recording a video all this time?" You glared at him.

He laughed with his head pressed to the side of your face, kissing your cheek to console you. He turned your head to face him and without hesitation, kissed your lips.

You returned the kiss, opening your mouth for him, hand fisting the front of his t-shirt.

You took it to your advantage by taking his phone and succeed, but he swatted your hand like you did to him, forcing you to drop the phone.

The video recorded nothing but the sound of your nagging, followed by giggles and sounds of kisses.

"I love you," he faintly said to you.

You giggled again before saying the words back to him, "I love you," 

The video ends with the sound of a good summer day, where the birds sing and the wind made a rustling sound through the tree branches when everything felt so simpler, easier, and happier with you.

 Minho took his phone and hit replay.

He lies down on his sofa and let the sound fill the emptiness in his apartment, and his heart.

 He sees you coming his way, to get into the elevator, and his hand hovers over the button to keep it open for you.

You avoid his eyes, head down, not saying anything, opposite to the girl he knew, the one he was with, who likes to blabber around, telling him funny things you heard at work or just randomly throwing praises at him.

"I like you in a white fitted shirt,"

"You look good in anything, but my hands look best on you,"

"We can have much more fun when there's only two of us," you once said with a seductive smile.

"Minho..." you sadly called him when he knew you just had a bad day, got on his lap, and let him cradle you like a baby.

He would scratch the back of your head, patting your head while lying down until you fall asleep.

He misses you so much that his heartaches at the thought of you.

He is gripping the script so hard when the staff comes up to him and accidentally crumples it in his hand.

"We're going to replace the entertainment news with a live coverage of the last baseball game of the season," a staff tells him when he's already seated behind the desk, ready for his nighttime news broadcast.

"Yes," he awkwardly answered.

"It'll be 3 minutes, we're not going to ask a lot of questions at the end, but they'll be ready on the prompter," the staff further explained.

Minho nods then fix his ties one more time before the broadcast begins.

-

"Are we still live when it happens?" Is the first thing you ask the cameraman, who's just as shocked as you.

You were interviewing Seungmin when it happens, right after you finished up the report his teammates dumped a cooler of water on him, but since you were standing so close to him, you got a good splash of it, and one side of your body drenched.

"I-I think so," the cameraman says.

The cold weather doesn't help, it got you shivering in no time.

Other people help you by giving you towels on you to dry and wrap yourself with them.

Seungmin lends you his shirt, and you hurriedly change it in the restroom.

You check your phone and see a new message from Kim.

 Are you okay?

 She attached a video of you getting splashed right before the camera was cut off.

"Fuck!" You cursed under your breath.

You can imagine being the talk of the office or worse, an internet meme. You wince, but you are way too numb to even think of the aftermath of it.

You agreed to Seungmin drive you home, he stops you before entering his car to put on his jacket on you.

"You don't have to I-"

He puts his hands on your shoulders, "I thought you're giving me permission," he says.

You smile in defeat and nod, then let him open the car door for you.

"Thanks,"

He put the heater on, "is it warm enough for you?" as he checks the heat with his hand.

"Yeah," you reply, clutching his jacket together.

It smells exactly like him, a combination of musk and something soft, powdery of vanilla.

You hate to admit that you miss being treated like this, being taken care of, paid attention to, this sense of belonging to someone.

You look at him, both hands on the steering wheel, his athletic upper body of broad shoulders, toned biceps, and prominent veins on his hands. 

Like all that isn't enough to charm you, he's also attentive, kind and polite, cultivated.

Maybe it's time to let go of Minho, not at once but slowly letting go of the hold that only hurts you the longer you hold on.

You failed a relationship with Minho doesn't mean you don't deserve another chance in love.

Because what if you miss a chance to be with someone like Seungmin?

You are too busy with the negative outcomes instead of the positive ones.

What if the relationship works?

Seungmin parked the car just right by the entrance of your apartment building.

"You'd better get inside and get warm," he says to you, rubbing the side of your arm.

You nod at him, "okay,"

You look at each other, smiling in the darkness inside the car, none of you move.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks you, he says it so low it's almost like a whisper.

You softly chuckle then lean in, be the one who initiates first by giving him a quick peck on the lips, "I told you, you have my permission," you remind him as you pull away.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds, still reeling from the fleeting, sweet kiss you gave him, then smiles.

"Goodnight!" You say to him as you get out of the car.

You wave at him until his car pulls away and leaves.

When you got inside the elevator, you've just realized that you are still wearing his jacket.

You stand outside your apartment door and quickly pull out your phone to send Seungmin a text to let him know about his jacket.

Something nudges your elbow, and you turn around to find Minho handing you a package.

"I found it right outside my door when I got home," Minho says to you.

You reluctantly take the package from him, the package is addressed to you, and your name is written on top.

"Thank you," you mutter to him with a thin smile.

You notice Minho is looking at the jacket you are wearing, you hurriedly push open the door with a loud crack, "Goodnight!" You said without looking at him.

You lean against the door as soon as you closed it behind you, you didn't mean to be rude to him, but that's the only way to do it, to put a safe distance and clear boundaries between you.

Truthfully, he is the one who set it in the first place. You are merely following the way he wanted it to be.

-

You're lucky that it's the weekend.

You kind of already guessed you would get sick from the cold, you've always been prone to cold weather. Flu and cold, you have it at least once during the winter.

When you woke up in the morning with a slight fever and a pounding headache, you know it's one of those times.

You sleep some more, drifting in and out of your sleep with the faint sound of the cat mewling from the direction of the kitchen.

You manage to sleep for another hour, but then someone continuously rings your doorbell, and it's getting annoying now that you reluctantly get up from your bed, staggering to open the door.

"Coming!" You croak to the impatient individual behind the door.

You fumble to unlock the door and pull it open, "yes?" You weakly ask.

It's Minho.

His eyes glared at you, unamused, but there's more to it, almost like a concerned expression.

"Can I help you?" You ask, wiping the cold sweat on your neck with the back of your hand.

He stays quiet for a moment then says, "I keep hearing noises in your apartment and-"

"It's the cat," you point to the cat trailing behind you.

"She's hungry, I'll-" you pause to wipe the sweat from your forehead, "I'll feed her real quick," you resolve, then push the door to close it.

He stops you from closing the door, without asking your permission, walks past you, and lets himself into your apartment.

"Are you aware that no pets are allowed in the building?" He asks you.

You brush your hair to the back, dirty and damp with sweat. You sigh, decide not to answer him but walk to the kitchen, take the cat food out of the lower cabinet and pour it into a bowl.

You fill another bowl with water, then place it in front of the cat.

The cat eagerly comes to the bowl and starts eating.

"She won't make any noise now," you told him.

You have no energy left to deal with him so you walk back to your room, leaving him alone in the living room. You pull up your duvet until it covers your whole body on the bed and tries to go back to sleep.

-

Minho's guess is right.

He knows you'll get sick after he saw you got splashed with water on a cold night like that.

He runs out of the way to see you and the 'your mail getting into my mailbox' becomes a lame, boring excuse.

Then he heard the constant noises coming from your side of the apartment, then hurriedly goes to your apartment to complain about it.

But what he found is something heartbreaking, he can see that you are sick, your cheeks flushed from your body heat, probably from the fever, and you kept wiping your sweat, you looked wan and unwell.

He didn't mean to complain, but it just came out like that, again, his immature selfishness got to him.

He stands there in the doorway of your bedroom, looking at you sleeping, whimpering in your sleep like you always do whenever you're sick.

It's hard trying not to care when you need to be taken care of.

He goes to the kitchen to get a bowl of lukewarm water and a cloth.

He sits on the edge of your bed and carefully wipes the sweat with the wet cloth, on your face, neck, and hands. He makes sure he cleaned you well, then put a wet towel on your forehead to soothe the fever.

He checks to see your fridge, there's nothing but some leftovers and apples, canned drinks, and bottles of water.

He goes back to his apartment to get some ingredients to cook a meal for you, but he didn't think of getting locked out.

He stands by your door trying to figure out the passcode to enter your apartment, he tries your birthday first, and it didn't work.

He doubts it would work, but he inputs his birthday next and to his surprise, the door clicks open.

He cooks you a meal and lets them sit on the stove so you can reheat it.

He knows he's overstayed his visit, not to mention, going into your apartment without your permission the second time.

He needs to check on you one more time, places a glass of water on your bedside table along with the medicine you have on your medicine box, then checks your temperature with the back of his hand.

He watches you for a moment, your mouth slightly parted, lowly whimpering with your eyes winced like you're having a nightmare.

His heart breaks all over again.

He realized that it must have been hard for you too.

He put strands of hair that stuck to your face, then put a hand on your cheek.

As you sense him, you nuzzle your face closer to his hand, seeking the comfort he brought through his touches.

There's so much he wanted to say to you but what comes out of his mouth at that moment is, "I'm sorry,"

He gets up and finally leaves you alone in your room.

-

Your doorbell rang for God only knows how many times that you got up from the bed and run to open the door, just to make it stop.

It startles you to find Seungmin standing outside your door, "I'm here for the jacket," he says to you with a puppy smile.

"Jacket?" You ask back then it comes to your mind, the jacket you accidentally took with you that night.

"Oh, yes, jacket," you sigh, feeling stupid.

Both of you look at each other in silence, then realize you haven't let him in.

"Oh my God, please come in!" You told him, step aside to let him into your apartment.

You follow him from behind, then catch your reflection in the mirror, and wince at how terrible you look right now. Hair tousled, a tangled mess, you didn't shower yesterday and you can imagine what you smell like without getting a whiff at it.

"I'm sorry, it's a mess," you say to him, then walk around the apartment picking up things to make it less of a mess.

"Jacket, jacket, jacket," you say repeatedly while looking for his varsity jacket which he lent you that night.

Found it under the pile of your coats, "I haven't washed it. Is it okay?" You meekly hand it to him.

"It's okay," he shortly replies.

"Are you okay? You look pale," he says.

You put your hair behind your ear and hope you still look decent, "I got a fever last night, but I'm okay now," you explain.

"Is it because of that night?"

You awkwardly laugh, "I'm always easily got sick during the cold season,"

"Would you excuse me? I just need to wash up a little bit,"

Or more, you add in your head."Sure," he replies.

"Please, make yourself at home. Help yourself to some drinks in the fridge," you tell him while taking a step backward to your bedroom.

You take a quick shower, only dry your hair as much, and startle yourself as you take a look at your reflection in the mirror. You wouldn't be surprised if he’s gone when you return because of how much you grossed him out.

The smell of food welcomes you instead, and you see Seungmin is stirring something in a pot.

It never crossed your mind that you would see him in your kitchen and is cooking on your stove.

He beams a smile when he notices you are coming his way.

"What are you cooking?" You ask him, looking into the pot and taking a whiff of it again.

"I'm not," he denies, "I'm just reheating what you cooked,"

"Huh?"

The cat mewling at the sight of you asking for food, you hurriedly fill her bowls with food and water, and pat her head as she dips her head into the bowl.

"Where do you keep the bowls?" He asks you.

"I'll do it!" You volunteered, getting up from squatting down on the kitchen floor.

You recognize the cook right away as you take your first spoonful of soup into your mouth, who exactly made this because you have tasted his cook so many times.

You almost choked on it, suddenly finding it hard to swallow it down your throat.

"It's good," Seungmin brightly says after he tastes the soup.

You put on a smile for him and push it down your throat.

You decide to take a walk after a late breakfast with Seungmin, have a coffee on the way, and enjoy the crisp, cool autumn air.

You sit on the bench, watching two puppies playing on the field and playfully bite each other.

"That one with brown fur looks like you," you tell him, half laughing.

Seungmin chuckles, "why?"

"Adorable but feisty," you shortly reply.

After finishing your coffee, you walk back to your apartment and stop at the entrance since Seungmin has to leave for his practice.

"I'm sorry that I haven't washed your jacket,”

He shrugs, "it's okay, I kind of like it,"

You chuckle at him.

"I like it now that it smells like you," he says to you.

You can't help but smile, he always says those kinds of things when you least expect it.

"You perv!" You poke fun at him, unable to find cheeky things to say back to him, lightly punch him on the arm instead.

He catches your hand to pull you closer, "I'll see you again," he says to you, holding your frame.

He smiles down at you, takes a long look at your face as if he would never see you again then slowly presses his lips on you.

The kiss is sweet and intoxicating that you find your hands looping around his neck, your body closing in on him.

He holds you as he deepens the kiss and breaks the kiss with a smile.

"Bye," he says to you as he places a quick peck on your lips.

"Bye," you breathlessly say back to him, then shyly return the deed.

You feel like floating as you make your way back to your apartment, but before that, you have one thing to do. You push the doorbell and patiently wait for him to open the door.

He is holding a cup of coffee in his other hand while the other keeps the door open, looking surprised to see you.

"Uhm… Thank you for the soup!" you sincerely utter your gratitude to him.

It seems like he doesn't expect you would say such a thing to him, he opens his mouth to speak, but you quickly come up with something else you want to talk about with him.

"But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't come to my apartment without my permission ever again," you sternly say to him, putting on a serious face.

He wants things to go this way, and you are giving him what he wants, that it's over, and there's nothing to do about it anymore.

"Good day," you finish with a thin smile, then walk back to your apartment.

-

Apart from everyone knowing you are the girl who got splashed during your live coverage, everyone talks about you being seen wearing his jacket from a picture that is going around on the internet.

Not to belittle his popularity, but you're glad that Seungmin hasn't gained that much popularity for everyone in the country to talk about it.

"Are you? Or are you not dating him?" Kim teases you and pulls your chair to face her.

You bite the end of your pen between your teeth and give her a sly smile.

"Yes or yes?"

You shrug, not answering her question.

"You slick!" Kim spins your chair and pushes it back to your desk.

You are more scared for Seungmin. What if he doesn't like being seen with you? Or worse,  what if he has a second thought about dating you?

You send a text to Seungmin to make sure he's not taking the swirling rumors too seriously, and you are more than glad to just step back, being nobody to him again if you have to.

He doesn't reply yet even after you arrived at your apartment.

Someone rings the doorbell and you smile thinking it's him but found the landlord instead.

She looks angry, hands defensively folded in front of her, "I know you're keeping a pet inside,"

You got caught red-handed, and there's no way around it but to come clean, "Please, let me explain myself," you plead.

But it seems like she already has a list of things she wanted to complain to you and going through it one by one without a break, not giving you a chance to defend yourself.

In the middle of it, you see Minho comes out of his apartment and walks up to you.

"Why don't we get inside and sort things out in a calm manner," he injects himself into the conversation.

"I'm not mad. I'm just telling her the rules she broke in our lease," the landlord snaps at him.

"Yes, we can always solve it to-"

"There's no way to solve it, she's at fault!" The landlord snaps at him again then glares at you. She walks away looking even more pissed off than before.

You groan out of frustration, rest your back against the door, then look down at your feet, reorganizing your breathing to calm yourself down.

"I told you that pets are not allowed in the building," he says to you.

You sigh and ball your hands into fists, you already have enough of him trying to mind your business, "I can handle it myself," you sternly told him.

"I'm just trying to help," he says.

"I appreciate the help, but no thanks," you say back.

"Why are you like this?"

You completely lost it at that moment, "no, you should ask that yourself!" You poke his chest with your index finger.

"Why are you like this? You treat me like a stranger, our relationship is nonexistent to you, and now all of sudden you want to help?" You don't mean to push him hard but turns out, you push him hard enough to send him staggering backward.

You let out a heavy sigh and bite down your tears, upset that he made you lose your patience just like that.

"Make up your goddamn mind!" You say to him, then head back inside, slamming the door so hard the sound echoes through the hallway.

-

You sit on the steps of the emergency stairs to avoid seeing Minho, just staring out at the void and trying to gather your thoughts.

The cat helplessly mewls inside the carrier like she knows she will be sent off to someone else’s home.

You let her out of the carrier and place her on your lap, petting her back until she gets comfortable.

"Just a few days," you tell her.

The cat turns around on your lap and faces you, she slowly and deliberately blinks at you.

"You can trust me," you tell her.

The cat purrs on your thigh in response.

Not long after, your phone vibrated with a new text from Seungmin. You put the cat back into the carrier and dash outside to the parking lot.

Seungmin waves at you to let you know where he is, and you can see the brightness of his smile even from a distance away.

"Hey, I hope you're not busy," you say.

"I don't have any other choice, my friend at work, Kim is allergic to cats," you explain, feeling bad because you don't mean to burden him with your sudden favor.

He lightly shakes his head, "it's not a big deal," he answers, then takes the carrier from you.

"Just a few days. The landlord isn't upset, but she wants me to move to the next building as soon as possible," you hand him another bag filled with cat food.

"I hope things work out well," he responds as he opens the car door and places the carrier in the backseat.

You suddenly get sentimental about parting with the cat, you bend down just enough to look at her, "bye-bye for now," you tell her, then closes the car door.

"Anyway, what's the cat's name?" He asks you.

"I haven't named her yet," you answer while foolishly laughing.

And he laughs along with you.

"Please, take care of her!" You say to him, looking into his eyes even though you can't see it when he wears his baseball cap low like that.

"I will," he promises you.

You reach for his cap and take it off of him, revealing his freshly showered hair, tousled and damp with the smell of his shampoo. He must have just gotten out of practice when you called to ask him about keeping your cat for a few days.

"As much as I like seeing you in baseball caps," you take the cap and put it behind you, "I cannot see your beautiful face," you take a step closer and confidently look up at him, to see if he would kiss you.

He softly chuckles and snatches the cap back from you, but it's just an excuse to put his hands around you.

He leans in but not quite kissing you yet, smiling with his eyes gleaming under the last sliver of daylight.

"I'm sorry about the picture," you tell him.

"What picture?" He asks, utterly confused.

"There's this picture going around the internet of me wearing your jacket," you elaborate.

"Ah," he exclaims, then puts his hands on each side of your waist, "I really don't care about that kind of thing," he says.

You sigh in relief, you knew he's not the type to fuss over such things.

"But that kind of things matter, you're getting more popular now," you say to him, tipping your head to the back to look up at him.

He leans in closer until the tip of his nose meets yours, "yeah, but I get it from baseball, not rumors," he says.

You nod, agreeing with him, but your eyes are now focusing on his lips, and so does he.

"I have to go back to arrange a few things with the landlord," you say to him, your voice dropped so low without you intended to.

"Okay," he says.

But none of you are willing to let go.

Seungmin leans in even closer, brushing his lips over your cheek, then brings his mouth close to your ear.

"I don't want to say goodnight yet," he says to you.

You put your hands on him and trace his broad shoulders against his varsity jacket until your hands meet on the nape of his neck.

Seungmin drags his lips down your jaw, then kisses you there, on your chin, so close yet not where you wanted him the most.

You let out a gasp of disappointment.

"You're such a tease," you mutter to him with a pout.

Then he finally kisses you right at that moment.

His lips on your lips, soft and soft, gliding over yours, his tongue gently swiping over.

He's so good at it, kissing you and driving you crazy at the same time. You can feel the sparks, that fiery excitement in everything he does with you. The kisses are explosive, bursting with so much passion, each one of them.

You feel hopeful that maybe Seungmin is the one who can get you out of your misery.

He slowly let go of the kiss, and you almost let out a moan of complaint, but hold yourself back.

"I'll see you again," he says to you, take the cap you are holding, then put it on.

"See you again," you say to him with your mouth still agape from his kiss.

-

"Let’s go buy a dress! I can't be the only one dressing up for this thing," Kim says as she slides an invitation.

You pick it up to open it, "what's this?"

"The TV station's anniversary," she shortly replies.

It's this Friday, you still have two days to prepare yourself and be a loyal friend to Kim as the only two girls on the sports news team.

"Let's dress up real fancy!" You say to her, then hold up your hand for a high five.

"Fuck yes!" She says back as she returns the high five.

The baseball season doesn't start until spring, you spend most of your time in the office or helping the other journalists covering the news.

You hunt for dresses after work with Kim in order to get her approval and what kind of fancy you are aiming for and to avoid overdoing it.

It's been a long time since you haven't spent time with another girl, going shopping, trying on make-up, eating dinner, and having a few drinks together, all the things that you should be doing to put your mind off things.

As usual, Kim's boyfriend gives you a drive home at the end of the night, and you give Kim a quick hug before closing the car door.

You struggle to carry your shopping bags upstairs, you hastily drop them by the time you got inside your apartment, sighing in relief. It's so empty now without the cat meowing to welcome you or that annoying mewling she does when asking for food.

You rush to get out of the shower when you hear the banging on your door instead of the ringing of your doorbell.

You heavily sigh, wondering what kind of doom waiting for you behind the door this time.

Minho crashes his body at yours the second you opened the door, almost sending you falling to the back. You hold him up, using all of your strength to put him on his feet but failing.

"I'm home," he tells you, slurring his words.

From his alcohol-tinted breath, you can tell that he has been drinking.

You try to make him stand on his feet but fail again.

"Hold me!" He begs you, wrapping his arms around you.

"Minho, you're heavy!" You complain, staying on your stance to hold him against you.

He tightens his arms around you and presses his head on your chest, "when you hold me like this, I can feel your heart beating," he mumbles to you.

It's so unlike him to be reckless like this, drunk and acting foolish. You drag him with you to his door and force him to come to his sense so he can tell you the passcode to his apartment.

"I need the passcode! I'm getting tired!" You complain to him between your pants.

Minho doesn't say anything but nestles his head on the crook of your neck, "Happy anniversary!" He says to you.

"Huh?"

"Anniversary," he mumbles.

"2 years," he adds then slumps on your chest, that you have no other option but to hoist him up again.

"Minho!" You call his name out of annoyance while shaking his body awake.

"Minho..." you shake his body harder, but he is still far from being sober.

"The passcode, please?" You ask, completely frustrated.

"Anniversary," he answers.

You heavily sigh again, not only that you're wearing a bathrobe but also trying to get four digits number from him when he's drunk out of his mind like this.

“Happy anniversary,” he mumbles again and again.

It takes you a while to realize that the passcode is the date of your anniversary.

You enter the numbers into the panel, and it clicks open.

You walk him to the sofa in his living room and lay him there, taking off his shoes and putting a glass of water on the table next to the sofa.

You sit next to him and watch him sleeping, eyes closed with dark, long eyelashes fanning out beautifully along his eyelids. He's beautiful just how you remember him, his nose, his lips, and those eyes that always intensely gaze at you.

It always scares you to look into his eyes, afraid that you'd be falling in love again.

"What did we do wrong, Minho?" You ask him.

You unbutton the top two buttons of his shirt, then hold him by his neck; he suddenly catches your hand and holds it close to his cheek.

"Happy anniversary!" He mumbles again.

Today is indeed your anniversary, you remember it, and he still remembers it too. Looking back at it now, it only brings back hurtful memories.

"There's no anniversary, Minho!" You softly say.

"I made a mistake. I ended us," you remind him.

You get and make your way to the door, you turn around to see him, and you think maybe it's time.

You hurt each other enough, and you're getting tired of playing the game.

It's time to let go.

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[canirove]

Meu Amor | Chapter 1

Summary: "I don't have time for boys, Taylor. Especially not football players. I want to make the most of this opportunity. Who knows the doors it can open for me."

"The ones of Rúben Dias' house are already open" she says with a smirk.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━   

When an unexpected promotion at your job as a journalist for Sky Sports, may end up not only changing your professional life, but also your personal one.

Author's note: I got the inspiration for this story while watching a basketball game and seeing a Spanish journalist who is married to one of the players. She has to work during many of his games, sometimes even having to interview him, and both of them always are super profesional.

The idea of writing it with Rúben is all thanks to my friend Ana (hi 👋🏻), who has been obssesed with him since the end of last season, and sending me photos and videos daily. You can thank her for it 😅

Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you like it! 💜

Next chapter

Masterlist

“Ok, guys. I’ve got good news and bad news. Where should I start?”

“Bad news always first.”

“John had a fall last night while training, injured his knee pretty badly, and will be out for the rest of the year.”

“Oh my God, is he alright?”

“He is in a lot pain, but he is having surgery today. He told me not to worry, that he will be fine. But as much as it sucks, his bad news lead us to the good ones. One of you will be covering for him, and the lucky one is… Taylor!”

“Me? But what about Manu? Shouldn’t he be the one covering for John since he is his assistant?” Taylor asks.

“I was going to tell you once he came back from his holidays, but nevermind. He has accepted an offer to join the Champions League team. It’s less work, and that way he can help at home.”

“So that means that Taylor and I are the new John and Manu?” I ask.

“Exactly. Congratulations girls! Your first game will be the Manchester derby. Hope you enjoy it!”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━    

“Relax, girl. We��ll be ok and totally nail this, trust me” Taylor says, putting a hand on my leg and trying to make it stop moving.

“Oh, I’m not nervous. Well, maybe a bit. What I am the most, is excited” I reply. We are finally doing pitch side work, and I can’t wait.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━    

I finished my journalism degree two years ago. While most people knew the field they wanted to work in, I wasn’t sure, I liked too many things. But one day, after seeing a female journalist covering a football game, I said to myself: maybe I can do that too. I sent a curriculum to Sky Sports, and God knows why and how, they called me back.

I expected to spend most part of my time doing things for others, from getting coffees to ordering files. Just as you see on movies. But to my surprise, they had me join the Premier League team as an assistant.

During my first year, I helped transcribing the notes others took during games, turning them into articles for the website. They were articles about the smaller teams, those only their fans care about, but I was writing and my name was there.

One day, one of the guys I worked with had to cover for someone from the Big 6 team, aka, the most important clubs in the country, the ones everyone watched on tv. It was a Manchester United – Liverpool, and we weren’t watching it from home. We were at the stadium, sharing our spot with journalists from all around the country, seeing it all first hand. And I fell in love with it. This was what I wanted to do. To actually live the games and share that with those at home.

For some reason, Taylor read the article I wrote that day, asked around… And the following week I was working as her assistant and becoming part of the Big 6 team. I wasn’t writing anymore, but just being by her side during meetings and helping wherever I was needed, was enough. An all this was finally paying off, making me go back to Manchester and to the actual pitch side.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━    

“I’m going to the bathroom before we start. Can you make sure everything is ready and that no one ruins our spot?” Taylor says.

“Sure, don’t worry.”

We are at the Etihad, Manchester City’s stadium, the game starting in 20 minutes. The players are already warming up, and Taylor should be doing her live in just a bit. After that, we’ll stay close to the benches, taking notes during the game, reporting back during the halftime, and doing the interviews once the game is over.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━    

“Taylor, where are you?” I mutter, checking my watch for the 10th time since she left. If she doesn’t come back soon, she’ll miss the live.

As I turn back to look at the pitch and make sure that everything is alright, I see a guy just in the middle of our set. Great.

“Excuse me, sir” I say, walking towards him. “This is a tv set, you can’t be here.”

Nothing, he doesn’t move. He is typing on his phone, the world around him gone. I let out a sigh and try to talk to him again, this time closer. He is way taller than I expected, and his back is huge. Like two times mine. No, maybe three.

“Sir. Sir, this is a tv set, you must move” I say, raising my voice. But nothing. “Sir, please” I say again, touching his arm. Even though he is wearing a jacket, I can feel his bicep. And just as his back, it is huge.

“Oh, hi” he says, starting to turn to look at me.

“Hi, sorry” I say, my hand staying on his arm for longer than it should have. “This is a tv set and we should be having a live any minute now. You must move somewhere else.”

“Yes, yes, I’m very sorry” he replies, his eyes fixed on me.

“Ok, thank you” I say, clearing my throat. Why is he looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?

“Mr. Dias, hello!” Taylor says behind me. Finally! “Such a pity that you aren’t able to play today.”

“Yeah, I know. But please, I already told you. Call me Rúben” he says. Do these two know each other?

“Yes, my bad. Sorry. Could we get you for a halftime interview? Are you watching the game from the VIP area or here next to the bench?” Taylor asks him.

“Yes, of course. And I was going to watch it from upstairs, but I’ve changed my mind” he says, looking at me.

“Oh, great. Then if they give us green light, we’ll see you later.”

“Looking forward to it” he smiles.

“Who was that?” I ask Taylor as I watch him leave. Though before he completely disappears among the crowd, I see him turning around to look back at me, giving me another intense look from head to toe, one that makes me blush a bit. Or a lot.

“Rúben Dias.”

“That’s him?”

“Of course that’s him! You are the most thorough person I know, you check every single detail, and you didn’t recognize him? Him? Last season’s best player?”

“You know Manchester City isn’t my cup of tea” I shrug.

“And Chelsea isn’t mine and I still know all their players faces. Anyway, you should start to pay more attention to him. You’ve definitely caught his” Taylor winks.

“Me? What? No!”

“He only had eyes for you! And he looked at you on purpose when he said that he had changed his mind about from where he was going to watch the game.”

“That was just a coincidence.”

“That was not a coincidence and you know it.”

“That… Ugh, Taylor, we are here to work, not to flirt with players. And we have a live in…” I say, checking my watch “2 minutes! C’mon, we need to get ready!

“Fine, fine” she says, rolling her eyes.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━    

“He fancies you.”

“Taylor, please don’t start again. My head hurts” I say, closing my eyes and trying to find a comfortable position on my seat. We still have an hour left until the train makes it to London, and a nap would do me wonders.

“But it is the truth! He is super serious with his job, something he has in common with you. And he always gives his 100% and puts all his focus on it, even if he isn’t playing. But today? Today he couldn’t stop looking to the side, to where you were. And during the game, I also caught him looking at you a few times.”

“He was just probably looking at the pitch, at his teammates.” Though I must say I also looked at him a few times, and he wasn’t paying attention to the game. He was looking at us. At me.

“Seriously, girl. One of the hottest guys on the Premier League only had eyes for you today. You should be ecstatic!”

“I don’t have time for boys, Taylor. Especially not football players. I want to make the most of this opportunity. Who knows the doors it can open for me.”

“The ones of Rúben Dias’ house are already open” smirks.

“I’m serious, Taylor. You’ve been working for longer than a decade. I haven’t. I need this to work out.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. I promise I won’t play matchmaker anymore and will focus on our job. Unless he sends me a dm asking me for your number or something. That’s the only exception.”

“Fine” I say, giving up. “You need to tell me how you two met, tho.”

“We’ll leave that story for another day. Now try to rest, I’ll wake you up when we make it back to London.”

And as I close my eyes and try to sleep, my mind chooses to relive everything that has happened today. Especially the moments that involve him. Rúben Dias.

[talesofstyles]

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain. 

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder. 

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment. 

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car. 

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.” 

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later. 

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald. 

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.” 

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later. 

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks. 

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off. 

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.” 

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors. 

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve. 

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING. 

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head. 

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her. 

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals. 

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom. 

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife. 

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process. 

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop. 

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache. 

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink. 

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers. 

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest. 

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room. 

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward. 

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket. 

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages. 

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side. 

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket. 

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door. 

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.” 

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going. 

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him. 

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear. 

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat. 

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes. 

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt. 

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige. 

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down. 

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.” 

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching. 

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

[adatheromcomaddict]

New Family

Hi everyone! Thanks for the love on my previous post!! I promised some people that I would post again soon, so here I am! 

If you read the Jasper preference on my last post, then you would know that this one is a bit of a similar storyline to that, but it’s not a jasper x reader. 

This imagine is again from my Wattpad, so go follow me on there at the same username I have on here.

Here we go!!

******

New Family

I had recently been turned by Carlisle Cullen. (You get to figure out what it was that you got saved from, also I guess the treaty doesn't exist????)

I took the last name, since he had told me that the rest of the adopted vampires had. (Do Jasper and Rose count? Also, Bella isn't a Cullen yet, but she is still there.)

But, I was yet to meet any of them. Besides Carlisle.

He took me to the hospital to recover instead of to his house.

The burning had finally stopped. Emphasis on finally.

I had been lost in my thoughts, when Carlisle opened the door.

"Y/N."

"Hello Carlisle." I replied, sitting up in my bed.

"We're going to take you home today. That is unless you have decided not to." He explained.

"No, I want to meet everyone."

"Alright. Take your time to get ready, and then we will head home."

I did everything I needed to do, when Carlisle appeared again.

"I'm ready." I smiled. I looked in the mirror on the wall, at my bright red eyes, one last time. Carlisle hadn't taken me hunting yet.

"Okay." He smiled back.

We took the drive, which should've been longer, but thanks to his driving skills was quite short, and parked in the garage. The second we walked in the house, everyone was waiting by the door.

I looked around and saw four women. One, tall, beautiful, and blonde. The other three were just as beautiful, but were all brunettes.

Then, I kept looking, and saw three boys. One was standing next to the blonde, and was quite large. Another was standing next to the shorter, pixie-cut, one, with blonde curly hair, and the final was with the girl with the delicious smell.

So that's what being thirsty felt like.

The boy next to her tightened his grip on her waist when I thought that. Strange.

The first to introduce herself to me, was the pixie-cut girl. I didn't know what else to call her.

"Hello! I'm Alice. You must be Y/N! Carlisle has told us so much about you." She grinned widely.

So, pixie-cut was named Alice. I will remember.

"And I must say, you won't need as much help as Bella here does with your wardrobe." I turned my eyes to where she was looking, and everyone stared. If I could still blush, I would be. Very brightly.

My throat started hurting. Incredibly painful, is all I could think.

I looked away then, and the woman that was now next to Carlisle introduced herself as Esme. Carlisle had told me about her. 

Blonde was next. And her, I'm assuming, boyfriend.

"I'm Rosalie. This is my husband Emmett."

"Oh, and this is Jasper." Alice said, appearing next to him again.

"Hello." He said.

Finally, I turned my head back towards the delicious one.

"Hello, Y/N. I'm Edward, and this is my girlfriend Bella. As you may have noticed, she is still a human." He explained, slowly.

"Yes, my throat noticed too." Everyone laughed quietly, except for Bella. She just looked more frightened.

When I mentioned my throat, it started to hurt like hell. I moved my hand up to it. (Bella much?)

"Yes, we should take you hunting Y/N." Carlisle said, breaking the small silence that had happened. "Does anyone want to go with her?" He asked.

"I will!" Alice exclaimed, running to me, and linking arms.

Before I could say anything, she was pulling me through the forest.

"Carlisle most likely told you, but we don't drink humans blood." Alice said.

"Yes, I know. Animals only." I laughed.

"Good. There should be a deer somewhere nearby..." She got quiet, then kept pulling me through. "We'll start easy."

When we found the deer, we chased after it, and caught it. I carefully sunk my teeth into the deer's neck, feeling sort of bad for killing the innocent creature.

When I was done drinking, I was still thirsty, but it was good enough for now.

Alice and I ran back to the house. It had only taken us a little while. Shorter than I expected.

It was around dinner time, but we didn't need to eat.

"Welcome back Y/N." Edward said.

I smiled at him, and at Bella, when I noticed in a mirror hanging on the wall that my eyes were a lighter red now.

I sighed in relief. It was creeping me out.

"Well, why don't we sit down and we can all talk about our backstories." Alice suggested. "That way, Y/N can get to know us better."

"Sounds like a plan." Esme smiled.

We all went into the sitting room.

"Well, I've already told you my story, Y/N." Carlisle said first.

"I'll go next." Edward replied.

"Carlisle told me you had the Spanish Flu. I'm sorry... that must've been... rough." Sounded like a sensible thing to say to someone that went through that.

Edward laughed.

"Well, you may not know this, but I can read minds." He said. That explains that situation.

"Well, Y/N," Alice said next, "I was institutionalized by my family. There was a tracker, someone who also tracked Bella," I looked towards Bella, and she cringed at the memory. "And someone turned me, protecting me from him. Jasper, why don't you go next."

Alice's story was a bit more sad than Edward's.

"I was in the Confederate Army. A woman named Maria turned me. Then I met Alice." He kept his story brief.

"I lost my child to lung fever." Esme said. That was abrupt. "I attempted suicide, but Carlisle found me, and turned me. Shortly after Edward." She smiled.

"Well, I was... abused... and left to die... in the middle of the street. By my fiance and his stupid friends. Then Carlisle found me, like everyone else."

"I was mauled by a bear." Emmett laughed.

"And, I'm not a vampire yet...." Bella laughed shyly.

I knew that, thanks to my thirst.

[milenadaniels]

Actually, Truly, 14k - Buck/Eddie, Helena POV, post-s4 (AO3)

Isabel calls to tell them Eddie's been shot on a Thursday afternoon and by lunch on Friday Helena and Ramon are landing at LAX. When they land, they learn Eddie's already home recovering and has been for two weeks.

----

Or, Helena (and Ramon) tries to find a way back into Eddie's life and doesn't know what to make of finding Buck around every corner she turns.

Isabel calls on a Thursday afternoon and by lunch on Friday Helena and Ramon are landing at LAX. Their son’s been shot, again, in the line of duty. But this time, instead of being thousands of miles away and out of reach, he’s just a short plane ride away.

Isabel insists they come to her house before going to the hospital but she doesn’t blame COVID protocols for keeping them away from the hospital, so they spend the car ride over imagining the worst.

A complication with surgery.

Permanent damage.

A coma.

The news they receive is that Eddie’s fine, and he’s been home and recuperating for two weeks already.

Helena retreats to the living room while Ramon and his mother fight in the kitchen. They’re yelling in Spanish and for once she wishes she’d never learned.

“Escúchame, Ramon,” Isabel tries to interrupt. Listen to me.

The yelling continues because Ramon doesn’t listen. It’s not his strong suit. Nor is it Helena’s.

Helena paces the length of the living room and holds her phone in her hands, thumb over Eddie’s name in FaceTime, not pressing down.

Eddie’s been home for two weeks.

Isabel hadn’t told them for two weeks.

But Eddie hadn’t either.

They hadn’t seen him in person in nearly two years, and he hadn’t called them since their last fight over a month ago.

Still, Eddie was shot in the streets by a sniper and he didn’t call them.

Mom, listen...

The last time they spoke, it was a phone call, not a video chat, maybe because at that point just the sight of each others’ faces was enough to set them all off. In that phone call, Eddie spoke of a friend whose family was somehow worse off than their own, but who, miraculously, were finally making the effort to fix the broken ties between them in therapy.

“Mom, listen… I spent a long time being angry with Shannon instead of trying to reach out to her and now Christopher is never going to have her in his life again. I don’t want that with you,” Eddie said, his voice brusque but calm, measured. “I don’t want to grin and bear it when you call or when we visit. I want to be glad to pick up the phone, I want to be excited to see you all at Christmas, I want you to be part of our lives. But I can’t do that without you meeting me halfway.” He was resolute, but he was pleading too. “I don’t want to spend the next ten years of our lives like this.”

But the idea of therapy was anathema to the Diaz family and it took only Ramon’s dismissive scoff to reinforce her own distaste of the idea. They called Eddie back to say they had no intention of paying a stranger to tell them everything was their fault and he was blameless.

They didn’t get another call after that.

“— my son!” Ramon yells at Isabel in the kitchen.

“Because, mijo, when you come here, you don’t see your son! You don’t see him living here, growing, Christopher thriving! You don’t see how when you come up here you bring sadness and misery when you should bring joy and comfort.” The words are too close to what Eddie said for them not to have spoken about it together. “By the time I knew he was hurt, he was already out of surgery and doing well. If he wasn’t, I would have called immediately.”

“Oh bueno, so you’ll tell me my son is dying but not that he’s okay?”

“Ramon! Escúchame.” It’s not often that Helena gets to bear witness to the steel in Isabel’s voice, the one she passed down to both her kids. It’s in fine form today. “He was doing well, and had all the help he needed. As soon as things stabilized, I called you. Keep acting like a fool and see if I call you at all next time.”

“If you call? Are you —”

Mom, listen…

“Ramon!” Helena snaps, surprising them all.

“Ramon,” she repeats, more calmly this time. “Listen to her.”

The shock on Isabel’s face almost makes her smile, but her heart is too heavy to commit to it.

“Helena, two weeks she —”

“Our son was shot, and he didn’t tell us.” Helena says, her voice trembling. “Our son was shot, he could have died, and the last thing we would have told him is we weren’t willing to fight for him and Christopher. Weren’t willing to — what? — put our egos aside? Our pride? For one fucking minute to listen to him. To listen to what he needed.”

Ramon’s eyes widen and he hangs his head with a sigh.

Helena faces Isabel, her phone tucked in her palm against her stomach.

“What can we do? We’re listening.”

——————-

Ramon walks it off and Helena helps Isabel in the kitchen in exchange for a promise they’ll go over to Eddie’s for supper. She’s been making care packages for Eddie and Christopher since the shooting, and she’s working on a pasta sauce while Helena starts on her famous banana brown sugar bread — Eddie’s favourite.

“How is he, really?” she asks once her dish is tucked into the oven.

“As well as can be expected,” Isabel replies, throwing spices into the pot with an ease Helena never grew into. “He was tired for the first few days, but now it’s like a broken arm. Uncomfortable but not so painful.”

“How long is it supposed to take to heal?”

Isabel casts a suspicious eye her way as if she can anticipate the date of Helena’s return flight adjusting already, but answers, “they say 6 to 8 weeks. It’s for the bone to heal, mostly, in his back. The rest should be sooner.”

Helena broke her wrist years ago, when the kids were nearly teenagers, and it was three months of hell trying to manage a household one handed while Ramon spent most of that time travelling across Texas.

Who’s helping him? Is Carla back in the picture? Is she working overtime? How can he afford that on sick leave? Is Pepa or one of the cousins going over? Is his girlfriend there? Who’s helping with Christopher? How is he managing?

The questions — all genuine and well-meaning, all a shade too accusatory — are on her tongue, pressed to the back of her teeth to keep from escaping. She’s entitled to answers, even if she doesn’t like them. She knows she has the right to at least know how her son is caring for himself and her grandson while he’s injured. If he’d told them when it happened Helena could have been here in a heartbeat to help, but no, Eddie’s just as stubborn as they are, just as prideful. He’d rather suffer alone than accept their help. Fine. But she’s still his mother, and Christopher’s grandmother. She raised them both. She has a right to—

Mom, listen…

Helena takes a deep breath in, anchors herself in the mixed scents of the rich sauce and the sweet bread cooking, and breathes out. Isabel sends her another look but says nothing.

————-

Helena cries when she sees Eddie, and cries a bit harder when she sees the apprehension in his eyes. Her baby boy looks a bit pale, but he’s standing on his own two feet and answering the door himself.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, wrapping him gently into her arms, mindful not to press into the sling or his back.

“Hi, mom,” he says quietly, like he’s trying to gentle the stiffness in his voice.

She releases him, but not before pressing three kisses into his temple, always three. One for each of her kids.

Ramon steps into the space she leaves when she continues into the house and from the corner of her eye, she sees him cup the back of Eddie’s head and take a good look at him. For Ramon, it’s the equivalent of collapsing to the floor in tears.

Helena quickly toes off her boots and makes room at the entrance for the others behind her, which also puts her first in line to catch a sight that nearly knocks her down.

“Who is this young man I see?” she cries, throwing her hands wide to gesture at her grandson. “Last I saw you, you were just a little tyke. Now look at you, you must have grown three feet!”

Christopher giggles and Helena smiles in return as she folds him into her arms, but it’s forced. She’s not lying — he’s grown so much more than she expected. She hasn’t seen him in person since Eddie’s graduation and while video chats are priceless, they didn’t capture this growth spurt.

She can’t believe she let this happen. That she went from spending most of everyday with this little boy and now she’s missed out on two years of his life. Can’t believe Eddie kept him fro—

Mom, listen...

Supper goes well enough. Eddie never truly shakes loose the tension in his shoulders; he trades many looks with Isabel, seemingly spooked by his parents’ behaviour. He talks a lot more than he usually does, probably out of nervousness. But overall, they let Christopher take the reigns; they’re all more comfortable with that. It’s been too long since they’ve last spoken and Christopher is full of stories about his school and his friends.

“Buck says we can go to the Griffin soon. It was closed because of COVID. But before, I went with my class and they made a comet right in front of us!”

Buck. It’s the third time his name has been dropped at the table since they sat down.

She first met him, briefly, at Eddie’s graduation, but didn’t really register him as someone in her son’s life until Eddie and his crew stopped off in El Paso for dinner on their way home from fighting Texas wildfires. Buck had been cropping up in Christopher’s and Eddie’s stories for months by then and she was curious to properly meet him in person. He had seemed...young, she remembers.

“The Griffith Observatory,” Eddie corrects fondly. With Christopher, at least, it’s impossible for him not to soften.

Eddie’s only eaten half the pasta on his plate but Isabel seems satisfied. Helena bites down on the impulse to encourage him to eat more. To remind him he needs his strength to heal quickly for his little boy. She does lift the basket of garlic bread in his direction, because she can’t help herself. He eyes the basket warily as though he expects her to do more, but when she doesn’t, he shakes his head with a small smile of thanks.

“Yeah,” Christopher agrees, “it was cool but we didn’t get to stay long enough to see everything. And if we go later, Buck says we can see real meteors in the sky.”

Fourth mention.

“Christopher is on an astronomy kick,” Eddie adds redundantly.

“Wait, I gotta show you —” Christopher is sliding out of his seat before anyone can stop him and racing down the hall to his bedroom.

“Oh, honey —” Helena grips the arms of her chair out of reflex to jump up and help him — he doesn’t have his crutches, he’s only using the wall for support and he’s wearing socks — but Eddie looks over when her chair creaks.

He can’t really expect her to just sit here while Christopher—

Mom, listen…

They can hear Christopher make it to his bedroom without injury, so Helena slowly settles back in her chair and Ramon clears his throat. “He seems...okay. More okay than I would have expected.”

Eddie keeps his eyes on his father for a beat too long, assessing the comment for any hidden messages.

“He’s a resilient kid. Buck stayed here with him while I was in the hospital, so his routine wouldn’t get messed up. I think that helped a lot.”

Fifth ment— wait.

“Buck stayed with him?” The words — the tone — are out of her mouth before Helena can stop them.

On the shortlist of people she expected to hear stayed with her grandson to watch him and care for him, alone, while his father was in the hospital — Isabel, Pepa, Carla, or even Ana — Buck’s isn’t a name she expected to hear. A coworker — an unrelated man with no children of his own, over Christopher’s family? Over Christopher’s own aide? Over a schoolteacher?

Eddie’s jaw squares up and he sits up in his chair. Like light gray rain clouds suddenly turning dark, weighty with an incoming storm, a heavy tension builds in the air between them.

“Look!” Christopher exclaims as he rounds the corner, nearly throwing a thin, blue hardcover book on the table. Eddie catches it before it can slam into Christopher’s leftover pasta and sets it down on the table for him. “It shows all the things we can see in the sky over the whole year!”

Christopher climbs back into his chair and opens the book up to a random page, describing everything he seems to have nearly memorized already. By the time he reaches the upcoming meteor shower, the tension at the table has dissipated enough for Helena to excuse herself to the bathroom and not have it come off like a passive aggressive storm-off.

She washes her hands with soap pumped out of a fish-shaped dispenser that wasn’t here the last time she visited and trains her eyes on the basket of gauze, scissors and tape tucked away on the shelf above the toilet. That wasn’t there last time either.

Her baby boy was shot by a sniper. In LA.

A bullet tore through the body she created and almost took her son from her forever.

Mom, listen...

But only after she’d almost pushed him so far away he might never come back.

The tears well up again and she sniffs through them, blinking up at the ceiling until she’s back under control.

As she pivots to turn the light off, she spies a purple toothbrush resting on the ledge just above the sink. The other two toothbrushes are electric — one adult-, one child-sized — and stand on the counter.

—————-

Helena and Ramon meet the infamous Ana by accident.

When they leave Eddie’s house on Friday, Helena sends a text message to say what she couldn’t manage to say to his face — that they’re here for him, in whatever capacity he needs, that they’ll take their cues from him, even if that means giving him some space.

To that, she receives a, Thank you.

When she asks for the contact information of the therapist he had scoped out for them, she gets a phone call.

“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth,” her son says, “but are you just doing this because I got shot?”

“Honestly? Yeah,” she laughs mirthlessly. “I’m sorry to say it took our baby boy nearly dying to get our heads out of our ass.”

Eddie huffs a laugh on his end. “Well, I’ll take that silver lining.”

After that, Eddie invites them to a restaurant for brunch on Sunday, but when they reach his doorstep, they find it already occupied by a woman who’s just rung the doorbell, holding a casserole dish in her hands.

When the door opens, Eddie takes in the three of them, his eyes wide and apprehensive.

“Ana, I wasn’t expecting you,” he says, his eyes darting over her shoulder to his parents. He’s smiling, though there’s a clear strain in the corners of his eyes and mouth. They’ve been critical about Shannon for so long — and with good reason, nothing will change Helena’s mind on that — no doubt he’s expecting them to hate this new woman on sight.

“You’re Ana!” Helena exclaims with a wide smile, imbuing her voice with as much welcome as she’s capable. “Hi! It’s so good to finally meet you!”

When Eddie releases the breath he was holding, she knows she was on the mark. Ramon follows her lead and invites Ana to brunch with them on the spot and won’t hear her protests about intruding.

Eddie, of course, doesn’t protest at all but invites them in so Ana can store the casserole in the fridge — it takes both Ana and Helena’s organizational skills to find a spot for it among Isabel’s and Eddie’s tupperwares already invading all available space — and he can finish getting ready. He was already dressed in a nice polo and jeans but when he comes back from his bedroom it’s in a smart button-down he must have struggled with out of sheer stubbornness. Both his parents and his girlfriend are in the house and still he didn’t ask for help.

Eddie and Christopher decide to hop into Ana’s car and Helena asks loudly for directions to keep Ramon from insisting they should all ride together.

“So how long have you kids been seeing each other now?” Ramon asks when they’ve been seated at the restaurant.

“Nearly 7 months now, I think, isn’t it?” Ana replies, looking at Eddie with a dazzling smile — she truly is gorgeous. Eddie was still talking to them when he started dating her so they know she’s a schoolteacher turned vice principal but to meet her in person blows all their other expectations out of the water. She’s lively and sweet, patient and understanding, Latina — a big plus in Ramon’s books ironically. Eddie picked well this time.

Eddie hesitates a moment and nods. “Yeah, that sounds right.”

Every now and again, he squirms in his chair, like he can’t quite settle in and Helena wonders when his last painkiller was taken. But when he catches her face, she smoothes her worry out into a cheeky smile that says I like this one. He smiles back and there’s nothing she can pinpoint exactly but something about it makes her uneasy.

Eddie’s too quiet as they wait for their food, his face pinched, and just when Helena’s about to break, Ana does her the favour of asking gently, “Are you feeling okay? Do you need to take anything for your arm?”

But Eddie shrugs off her concern. “No, thank you. Next one isn’t until noon.” He taps his phone twice and she smiles.

“Sorry, I forgot. He’s got them all on timers with a special ringtone. He’s so organized,” she tells Helena and Ramon with a sunny smile, rubbing her hand down his good arm. “I have one multivitamin and I forget to take it half the time.”

“Buck set it up,” Eddie defers, and Helena schools her face not to react; even at brunch Buck is with them in spirit.

Ramon either takes no issue with the mention or doesn’t register it. He takes the opportunity to share how his new pharmacy pre-packages his heart and arthritis medications into AM and PM slots and Ana listens attentively. Eddie’s fingertip taps absently against the phone case until their food arrives.

Christopher ordered a waffle, and with Eddie indisposed, Helena is already moving to help him when Ana beats her to the punch again. Helena tucks a smile away as Ana leans over and starts cutting the waffle up into smaller pieces.

“He can do that,” Eddie says when he notices Christopher sitting back in his chair, realizing only when Ana startles that his tone is sharp. His voice is softer when he follows up with, “Right, buddy?”

“Yeah,” Chris agrees, picking up his own cutlery with enthusiasm despite his hands being nearly too small for them.

Eddie throws an apologetic grin Ana’s way and brunch continues peacefully, though the stiff line of Eddie’s shoulder never does quite soften.

Mom, listen…

————-

Their first therapy session takes place in Isabel’s kitchen at Eddie’s request. Isabel thinks it’s so he has the option of leaving when he needs to (in other words, when he gets fed up and runs) but Helena hasn’t missed how Eddie has been careful to keep them away from his home since the first day they saw him.

They’ve seen Eddie and Chris numerous times in the week and change they’ve been in LA — more than they’ve seen them since they left El Paso — but always outside of the house. Sometimes they pick Chris up from school, sometimes Eddie and Chris come to Isabel’s for supper, sometimes they go out to restaurants or other outings, but they haven’t been invited back to his home again. She wanted to believe it was because he was hiding the news that Ana had moved in but that’s been shot out of the water both by her ringing the doorbell and an errant comment at the end of brunch about how she hadn’t seen him since the welcome home party.

So it’s out of pettiness, then. Stubbornness. Out of pig-headed inability to accept that he needs help and willingness to believe that they’re making an effort to meet him on his own terms.

She tries not to let it rankle her, tries to find some of that resolute commitment to letting things be and not push. But the next thing she knows, she’s yelling about it to a stranger at Isabel’s island counter.

To be fair, the session with Dr. Jamieson wasn’t going great to begin with. It’s awkward as hell, the three of them balancing on stools, squished in next to each other to try to fit into the screen, but also trying to keep the laptop close enough to still hear her and not have to shout. It’s happening while Chris is at school so they don’t have to worry about keeping him distracted but they can’t exactly ask Isabel to go wait in the LA sun for an hour so she doesn’t overhear, so it’s basically a given that she’s the fourth person on this virtual couch from the next room over.

And beyond that, Helena has kept her mouth shut for over a week which is frankly more time than anyone would have bet on, including herself, and given the opportunity to express herself freely...well…

“You want space? We’ve given you nothing but space since we got here. How much more can we give you, Eddie? You’re hundreds of miles away from us already. Forgive us for feeling the need to check in on our only son who almost died last week,” she yells, her hand nearly colliding with her coffee mug as she gestures.

“Last week?” Ramon echoes with a bark of dark laughter.

“Oh, no, that’s right,” Helena picks up. “I’m sorry! Not a week ago! Nearly a month ago! Because apparently we don’t warrant even a text when our only son almost dies, but that’s not enough space?”

Eddie rakes his fingers aggressively through his hair, his lips pursed.

“We have to move to Mexico,” Ramon continues blithely. “Is that enough space? No, better yet! Sweden! Your family still lives out there, no? We can live on their farm. Completely different timezone, we won’t even be reachable.”

“Yeah,” Eddie bites back, a sour grin blooming on his face, “that’s what I want. I ask you to give me some breathing room — to respect me, my life — and you translate that into living in a fucking commune in Sweden. And you wonder why we’re in therapy. I can’t talk to you, you don’t listen!”

Mom, lis—

“Listen to what, Eddie?” Helena yells, getting out of her seat to pace. “Listen to the months of silence you’ve sent our way? Because we either get on board and blindly cheer on every mess you get yourself into or we don’t get to know you anymore? Don’t get to know our grandson?”

“I never kept him from you — you have our number, the phone didn’t ring. That’s not on me.”

“Because you would have picked up?” Ramon exclaims, pushing away from the island to better look back at their son. “Easy to claim when it’s after the fact in front of the doctor.”

“So now I’m a liar! You raised a liar?”

“I think we’ve gotten off-track,” Dr. Jamieson’s tinny voice interjects from the laptop.

In the bottom right hand corner of the screen, only Eddie remains in the frame.

————

Firehouse 118 was a lively crowd at Eddie’s graduation but it’s nothing compared to the party thrown at the Grant-Nash house in honour of a new probationary firefighter.

Dr. Jamieson pointed out the self-fulfilling prophecy that Eddie protecting himself from criticism and pressure by withholding details about his life in LA was leading to his parents’ growing insecurity over not knowing anything about their son and feeling the need to intervene more and more.

The solution? Let them in on his life and trust that they could hold themselves in check.

For that, even Ramon was in agreement that maybe therapy wasn’t a load of shit after all.

So here they find themselves welcomed into this beautiful and loud home nearly three weeks into their stay in LA. They were allowed to pick Eddie and Chris up so they arrive together but Christopher peels off immediately to find kids his own age.

It’s impossible not to feel the warmth of family radiating from every inch of the home so when Eddie’s shoulders seem to loosen a little as they walk in, Helena can’t find it in herself to begrudge him.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” a woman around Helena’s age drawls, crowding into Eddie’s space for a delicate hug he doesn’t hesitate to return. “Though I could have done without seeing another one of these for a few hundred more years,” she says, gesturing to the sling. “How much longer?”

“Another month if everything checks out,” Eddie says, releasing a sigh.

“It better,” she warns with a twinkle in her eye that says if she learns he’s been aggravating his injury there will be hell to pay.

The woman, they find out, is Athena Grant-Nash, wife of the 118’s captain and consummate host. While Eddie splits off “for a minute”, she leads them to the main area for drinks and introductions before leaving them to mingle. Captain Nash — Bobby — meets them with appetizers and introduces them to the Lees, the de-facto parental figures of the young man who just joined the team.

From the spot she claims at the edge of the dining room, Helena keeps an eye trained on Eddie outside. She feels an itch under her skin knowing it’s been nearly twenty minutes and Eddie hasn’t checked on Christopher, but she knows she shouldn’t go herself. Eddie can do everything on his own, right? He can look after his own kid at a party.

She can, however, go to the washroom and take a peek at what Christopher’s up to while she’s wandering, and that’s exactly what she intends to do.

But for now, she watches as Eddie criss-crosses through the crowds of the patio, prompting a localized burst of cheers at each stop as he reunites himself with teammates he hasn’t seen since the shooting. She recognizes the woman who was on the trip to Texas but the rest conjure only the vaguest memories of Eddie’s graduation and the occasional picture on Instagram — before he stopped posting that is. Just one more way they’ve been iced out.

But he seems happy, almost carefree in a way she realizes she hasn’t seen with her own eyes in...longer than this trip, actually.

Probably years, if she’s honest.

And it occurs to her, slowly, creepingly, that her son is outside, smiling freely and easily, surrounded by people he’s made his new family, while Helena stands inside watching his life through a glass window in a stranger’s house.

Mom, listen…

She swallows past the lump in her throat and sighs. Ramon’s arm comes around her waist and without looking at him, she knows he’s had a similar revelation.

Their next therapy session is in a few days, and they’re not going to fuck it up again.

There’s a late arrival to the party, one of the only people in Eddie’s life she can recognize — Buck. He’s as tall as she remembered but he looks a shade less young now maybe. He greets everyone with a hug or kiss on the cheek as he moves through the party, and bestows a cheer and an enthusiastic hug on Albert, the guest of honour.

When he moves on to the patio and approaches Eddie’s circle, however, the cheerful, long-awaited reunion of best friends she expects doesn’t happen. They catch each other’s eyes for a few beats and share a welcoming smile, then the conversation resumes as if nothing of consequence has happened. Buck doesn’t even linger long, heading back into the house after a few minutes.

When the cake starts being doled out, Eddie returns to meet them at the table and accepts the plate Helena offers him. Helena is scouting the yard for a chair he can sit on to eat when Buck reappears.

“He couldn’t be pulled away?” Eddie asks in surprise.

“Nope,” Buck replies with a grin before turning to them. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Diaz. Good to see you again!” Before they can return more than a smile, Buck continues, “he’s cheating at Unicorn Temple with Harry. Not even cake can pull him away.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and smiles. “My son is not a cheater.” To them, he says, “Buck thinks that whenever he’s losing at a video game, it’s because his opponent is cheating.”

“Not always! Just when they are,” he replies with exaggerated emphasis before scooping a piece of cake onto a plate. “I’m gonna go hide this in the fridge for him for later before it’s all gone.”

Eddie ducks his head and smiles down at his plate, and the questions are building up behind Helena’s teeth again.

Christopher’s been playing video games all this time? Is it an age-appropriate game? Why is Buck checking on your son? Why is Buck saving him cake when nobody asked him to? Why—

But Eddie looks up with an uncertain expression and says, “there’s a table out there if you guys want to join me.”

So Helena stows her questions and says, “that’d be great.”

They eat the overly-sweet cake in peaceful silence until Ramon casts an eye around and says, “you must be glad about the new firefighter. You won’t be the baby on the team anymore.”

Eddie snorts. “I’m 33 and my kid is nearly a teenager — and that’s totally not freaking me out at all,” he adds wryly. “Besides, I was never the baby of the team. Buck is younger than me and forever a kid at heart so I was never in any danger of it.”

“Oh god, don’t remind me that Christopher’s growing up,” Helena only half-jokes. “I can still barely believe he’s old enough to hold his own head up.”

Eddie huffs a laugh and Helena banks it as a win.

“Do any of your coworkers have teenagers?” Ramon asks. “Might have some words of wisdom to share.” Since you won’t ask us, is unspoken and politely ignored by all.

“Athena’s daughter May is just leaving the teen years now, but after her, Christopher’s the oldest. Harry, Athena’s son is 9 and Denny, Hen and Karen’s son just turned 8. It’s great for play dates but not for getting advice on what’s coming up unfortunately.”

“Karen,” Ramon echoes.

Eddie’s fork pauses on its way to scoop some excess icing off his cake and his back straightens.

“Hen’s wife,” he says curtly, daring.

Helena wants to roll her eyes at the posturing. It’s 2021, who cares who anybody loves. She knows Ramon doesn’t, not really, not anymore. It’s a 50-year-long reflex to make a comment, one they’ve been working, if only to have some semblance of a civil conversation with Sophia while she works through a degree in women and gender studies.

But she knows that excuse isn’t going to fly with Eddie.

It hasn’t flown since Eddie was 20 years old and realizing he’d lost a good friend to his father’s caustic words. And Helena can’t ever go back and examine the hurt in Eddie’s expression with fresh eyes. Shemanages to forget about it most of the time until something happens to dig it out of the cold, hard ground and shove it in her arms.

Mom, listen...

But she’s come to LA because she wants to be in her son’s life, in her grandson’s life and she can’t be a coward now.

“They’re a gorgeous couple,” she says, almost too loudly in her enthusiasm. “Are they thinking of having more kids?”

Eddie turns his assessing eyes to her and is mollified by her effort. “Yeah, they’re foster parents now. They’ve fostered three kids so far.”

“That’s great,” she says sincerely. Then, accidentally on purpose and only in part to bring Ramon back to a safe topic, she asks, “Does Ana want a large family?”

Eddie sees through her attempt, but nods. “Yeah, she loves kids.”

Helena doesn’t miss Ramon’s approving nod, or the dark look that passes over Eddie’s eyes when he catches it.

“Was Ana not able to come tonight?” Ramon asks.

“I didn’t ask her,” he answers, his voice a shade too casual. “This is more of a team thing.” As if they hadn’t just been discussing the other families all around them.

“That Ana—” Ramon begins but is interrupted by the arrival of Christopher with a hint of blue icing on his nose and Buck following behind him with two paper plates filled with cake.

Christopher sits backwards on the picnic table bench and uses his arms to lift his legs over while Eddie watches but doesn’t offer to help, and when Christopher is set, Buck places one of the plates in front of him with a plastic fork stuck in the top like a flag.

“Buck was finally able to pull you away, mijo?” Eddie asks as Christopher digs in.

“No, May took her room back so we can’t play on her tv anymore. Harry’s gonna ask his mom if we can play in her room.”

“Yeah...” Buck draws out, sharing a dubious expression with Eddie over Christopher’s head, “I wouldn’t hold out for that, bud.”

“Maybe you can teach the others how to play Scrabble!” Eddie suggests.

Christopher’s nose wrinkles, “Scrabble is boring.”

“Hey!” Buck protests and takes a forkful of Christopher’s cake in retaliation, which prompts Christopher to yell and attack Buck’s cake back, taking much more than a forkful.

The commotion draws attention to their table and Helena’s gearing up to tell Christopher to settle down when she catches Eddie’s eyes on her, waiting.

Helena looks back out to the backyard to say, People are staring.

Eddie looks back impassively as if to say, Let them.

Mom, listen...

Helena swallows her impatience, her anxiety, her embarrassment.

“Hey,” Buck calls, his mouth half full of icing, “did you take your 6?”

Eddie hesitates and that’s enough for Buck to swallow and look put out, already turning and lifting a leg out of the confines of the picnic table.

“Did you turn off your alarm again?”

“I didn’t turn it off the first time, I don’t know what happened.”

“What happened is it woke you up at 6am and you turned it off because sleepy Eddie makes bad life choices.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You don’t have —”

“Right pocket?” Buck interjects, already walking away.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs.

Christopher looks at him and shakes his head with exaggerated disappointment.

“Don’t you start,” Eddie warns, scooping a fingertip of icing and dabbing it on his son’s nose too quickly for him to duck.

Christopher shrieks and reaches for his cake fingers-first.

“Oh no, no,” Eddie laughs, catching Christopher’s fingers with one hand. “Truce, truce.”

Christopher doesn’t look interested in a truce and Eddie’s other arm is in a sling, so Ramon quickly pulls the cake out of Christopher’s reach, and then Buck’s abandoned piece and Helena does the same with Eddie’s.

“Not fair!” Christopher cries, still reaching.

“Your dad’s hurt, mijo, you can’t attack him with icing while he’s healing,” Ramon says reasonably. “Wait till he’s all better.”

“He’s fine!” Christopher declares with the confidence of a trauma surgeon as he tries to climb up on the bench.

Eddie’s not in a position to pull him back down and Helena doesn’t know how far they can take their non-interference but she’s not about to let her grandson hop over a table to fall into three plates of cake. She’s half-decided she’s going to pick up the cake and walk it back inside when Buck returns, depositing a glass of water on the table and a small white pill into Eddie’s palm before swooping in and tickling Christopher’s sides.

He shrieks loudly, gaining looks from all around the backyard, but it gets his butt back down on the bench and Buck sits back down next to him, boxing him in between himself and Eddie.

“What happened to our cake? How’d it get all the way over there?” The plates are very easily within Buck’s reach; it’s a question for Christopher’s benefit.

“Dad got me like you did!” Christopher cries indignantly, pointing to his nose. “I’m getting him back!”

“Oh man,” Buck nods seriously before his finger darts forward, swipes the icing from his nose and brings it to his mouth. “Mmm, this is better than the one I got you with. You sure you don’t just wanna eat it?”

Christopher looks unconvinced.

“How about this?” Buck ducks down to whisper loudly. “You call a truce with your dad, and then I’ll steal all his icing and we’ll eat it.”

The icing on Eddie’s cake is mostly piled in a corner of his paper plate. He’s never been able to stomach the pure sugary sweetness of store bought icing.

“Okay,” Christopher nods back, reaching out again for his plate but without making grabby hands.

Ramon assesses him for a moment before taking the chance to push the plates back within reach.

“Hey, Eddie,” Buck calls deliberately. “You should take your medication now.”

“Thanks, Buck,” Eddie replies with a smile that conveys an eyeroll. “I’ll do that now.”

While Eddie pops the pill and takes a very long drink of water, Buck “sneakily” pulls his plate towards them and scoops all the piled icing onto his own plate before pushing the cake back to Eddie’s side of the table.

Christopher laughs and pushes Eddie’s plate an extra few inches away out of spite.

Eddie plays the disappointed victim passably well with a half-hearted gasp and a shake of his head. “You little thieves.”

As promised, Buck doles out some of Eddie’s icing to Christopher who immediately protests at the amount left on Buck’s plate.

“Hey, when you’re a big guy like me, you get more icing. Keep eating your proteins and you’ll get there in no time.”

Christopher accepts that easily enough. “I’m gonna be tall like dad.”

Buck scoffs, “Aim higher, kid. Literally.”

“I am barely two inches shorter than you,” Eddie laments, not for the first time, it sounds like.

“It’s practically three. Are you really going to lie in front of your parents?”

Wouldn’t be the first time, is on Helena’s tongue because it’s been hours since she could speak her mind, but she holds it in.

“How was the trip from Texas?” Buck asks them suddenly, bringing them back into the fold of a scene they'd never left but somehow stopped being a part of. “Flights have new restrictions on them now, don’t they?”

Mom, listen...

When the party is winding down and they walk outside to the driveway, Eddie surprises them by offering them both a hug.

“Thank you for coming,” he says sincerely, though Helena hears the underlying “and behaving” and can’t help but bristle.

“Thank you for inviting us, mijo,” Ramon says; his turn to save Helena from herself.

And when Eddie lets them know he and Chris will be getting their ride back from Buck, Ramon takes Helena’s hand and they smile almost sincerely as they say their goodnights.

—————-

The next week happens to be Isabel’s 80th birthday and Helena and Ramon keep themselves busy by helping to throw a party that will reunite every vaccinated member of the family in the area (they’re not about to take a chance on Isabel’s health).

Things have been getting better with Eddie. They had a second therapy session, again at Isabel’s island counter, where they lasted a good 25 minutes before devolving into yelling. The next day, Eddie asked Ramon for a ride to physical therapy, and easily accepted his father’s offer of lunch after the appointment.

Then, when Helena asked if she could pick up some groceries for him and Christopher, she was refused — in no small part, she thinks, because he still won’t let them in his house — but instead of going off on him, she channeled that anger and resentment into nearly buying out Costco for Isabel’s party. It felt like progress Dr. Jamieson would be proud of.

That’s why, despite the party officially kicking off around 11am, they’re just past supper time and all tables and counters are still nearly buckling under the weight of the food. They’ll have to send everyone home with leftovers if the flow of people stops. Isabel’s front door has been a turnstile since this morning and Helena knows from experience it’ll likely stay that way until the late hours of the night. Most recently, Helena’s daughters made their appearance, and it’s not at all the reason Helena is back in the kitchen.

Despite coming from opposite ends with different travel distances, Adriana and Sophia arrived within a half hour of each other, a move Helena saw through instantly. The idea that her children coordinated to arrive together instead of risking the possibility of facing their parents alone sets a fire raging in her heart, and she realizes suddenly that she isn’t prepared to be hypervigilant of her every word with all three of her kids here now to push her buttons.

So, she retreats to the kitchen.

She doesn’t expect one of them to follow her in.

“I heard you guys were doing therapy,” Adriana volleys as she approaches.

Helena cracks open the tray of chocolate chip cookies and starts plating them, her face angled down so any kneejerk expression of distaste isn’t as visible. “Apparently, that’s what the cool kids do nowadays.”

“It is,” Adriana agrees, the bangles on her wrists clinking on the countertop as she reaches for the box of oatmeal cookies to plate. She’s a year into her Master’s in communication. What she intends to do with that is a mystery to them. So much of their kids’ lives are a mystery now. Helena closes the lid of the cookie tray hard and relishes in the snap of the plastic groove into the tongue.

“Paying a stranger to tell us when and how to talk to each other is cool,” she bites. It’s not posed as a question, just a bitter acknowledgement.

Adriana is quiet and Helena starts plating mini quiches onto the cookie platter just to stay occupied while her daughter walks away. Sophia is a yeller, she stands her ground and gives as good as she gets. Adriana, however, is a runner, just like Eddie.

But Adriana doesn’t leave in a huff. She turns to the counter and grabs a second platter, moving the mini quiches onto that one.

“It’s cool that you’re open to trying,” she says. “I think that, in any family where there’s love, there’s going to be hurt. And the longer we stay stuck in that hurt, the harder it becomes to talk about it without causing more. We get stuck in patterns that we can’t break out of, and people on the outside can be the best ones to point out those patterns and help you break out of them to get to what you actually, truly want to say.”

Helena knows what she actually, truly wants to say. That’s not the problem. The problem is that none of her kids want to hear it.

“I see a therapist,” Adriana continues. Helena stills and looks at her daughter, calmly arranging the mini quiches into concentric circles. “Since my last year of undergrad. When things got really hard and I couldn’t understand why. They helped me. A lot. Helped me figure out what was wrong and how to get myself through it.”

“You didn’t tell us,” Helena says, her voice thick.

“I know,” her daughter replies simply. “I didn’t know how. I’m telling you now because what I actually, truly want to say is that I’m proud of you and dad for doing this. And maybe if you don’t hate it...maybe we could try a session later too.”

There’s an offer in her daughter’s words, an open hand reaching out. But in that hand, Helena sees her failures as a parent, the judgement of the world for failing her kids, and she doesn’t want to reach her own hand out.

Mom, listen…

Helena looks at her eldest daughter, almost a stranger to her, with an entire life Helena is only starting to realize she has no part in. It hurts — it always hurts when the kids pull away but to realize she didn’t even know the extent of it...she wants to hurt back.

Mom, listen…

But she’s trying so hard to break those patterns Adriana speaks of. So instead, Helena thinks of the therapist’s advice leading them into a piece of Eddie’s life they wouldn’t have otherwise gotten to see and swallows past the indignation in her throat to reach down and find the words she actually, truly wants to say.

“You say when, and I’ll be there.”

———-

The sun is setting when Helena finally agrees to get off her feet and just enjoy the party outside while the cousins take over the serving and cleaning. There are four generations of Diazes gathered around but for the first time ever, most of the cousins are young adults, not teenagers, and it’s nice to be able to pass on the hosting responsibilities to them for a bit.

The sky is clear, the sunset resplendent from Isabel’s backyard, and the conversation is flowing easily. It’s a beautiful evening, warm with a gentle breeze cool enough to let her lean back against Ramon in his lounge chair, one of his arms wrapped loosely around her hip.

For the first time since getting Isabel’s text, Helena feels something like peace wash over her and she almost feels bad for the thrum of vindication in her stomach when she spots Eddie slumped comfortably in an armchair, his legs propped up on another chair.

He’s at home here.

Yes, he was at ease at his captain’s house but this is family, this is where he can really sink into the love and comfort and rest. With his aunts and uncles, cousins and sisters around to take care of him. And Christopher, who spent the afternoon running around and chomping down on all the sugar he could get his hands on, slumped against him, nearly asleep. This is family.

She knows he could find that peace back in El Paso, they both could. Eddie had friends there, and his parents, who knew his son better than he did for most of his life. And there are fires in El Paso same as there are in LA, but less smog, less general insanity.

But Eddie’s a lot like his parents, too much like them maybe, and once he’s decided on a course of action he can’t be swayed. So Helena has made peace with it. Rather, she’s made peace with pretending to be okay with it while she waits for him to come to the realization that he should move back.

And in the meantime, if they can mend this thorniness between them, then maybe she and Ramon can make more of these impromptu trips. Maybe even convince Eddie to come home for Christmas this year. At the very least, go back to regular video chats.

But all that ruminating feels far away right now. She’s moving gently with the rise and fall of Ramon’s chest, and she’s so close to slipping away to the feeling of contentment when a new arrival makes her open eyes she didn’t realize she’d closed.

“Feliz cumpleanos,” she hears someone say in half-decent Spanish from the front door on the other side of the side yard fence.

She doesn’t recognize the voice as yet another cousin or uncle, but Eddie shakes Christopher’s shoulder gently, and says, “hey, guess who’s here.”

It takes a moment, but the words penetrate Christopher’s sleepiness. His eyes pop open and he shimmies out of Eddie’s lap and into his crutches to power walk over to the gate just in time for it to open, admitting Isabel, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and a sheepish looking Buck behind her.

“Buck!” Christopher yells.

Buck’s smile widens and he immediately opens his arms. “Hey, superman!”

Buck crouches down and Christopher throws his arms around his neck, crutches and all. When it’s time to break apart, Christopher’s still hanging on and Helena feels a stab of dark vindication at what’s about to happen, and the look Ramon sends her way tells her she’s not alone. Because Christopher is now officially in the double digits, and while he’s always been an independent kid, becoming 10 years old was a big deal for him and his perceived level of maturity, and apparently the year he decided no one was allowed to carry him anymore.

And now Christopher’s tired and in the grip of a powerful sugar crash. He’s not going to suffer any indignities, and Helena knows she should feel bad about not trying to stop Buck. About just watching this play out to see him be rejected. But she wasn’t expecting to see him here, in this safe haven of Isabel’s backyard, in this space for family and loved ones, and it rankles her. It feels like everywhere she turns in LA, she finds him there. And his being here is just another nail in the coffin of Eddie stubbornly refusing to let his parents back into his home. That he would call his friend to this party just to avoid letting them give him a ride…

So she’s a little bitter, a little resentful of the persistent, low-key rejection. Sue her. Eddie has made it clear he doesn’t want them interfering anyway so this is on him.

“Christopher,” Eddie calls, a warning to not make a scene.

Buck looks over Christopher’s shoulder and smiles. “He’s fine,” he says.

Then he’s heaving Christopher’s body up into his arms and onto his hip and Christopher…

...Christopher slumps down over Buck’s shoulder like a baby koala. No sound of protest leaves his lips. His face, if it shows any displeasure, is hidden behind Buck’s neck.

And when Eddie gets up, it’s not to intercede, it’s only to grab the errant crutches before they hit something, and to pull his own armless chair out for Buck to sit on because apparently Buck is staying, and apparently Christopher is staying with him.

“He’s a bit old to be carried around, no?” Ramon says with a bite, because he can’t help himself.

Eddie, who’s been watching his son fondly, barely bats an eye. “He gets cuddly when he’s tired, and Buck’s nearly the only one left who’s big enough to carry him.”

“Ah, that’s why you spend so much time developing these,” Pepa says with a sly smile as she pinches at Buck’s bicep. The same familiar pinch she gave her own grandkids’ cheeks.

“Gracias a Dios,” Isabel adds meaningfully.

“That was adrenaline,” Eddie dismisses with a teasing grin.

“That was 100 squats and 50 pushups a day,” Buck returns blithely. “...and maybe a little adrenaline.”

“What’s this?” Ramon asks before she can.

Instead of prompting more teasing, the mood falls slightly and everyone looks to each other.

Finally, Eddie sighs. “When I got shot, Buck army crawled under a ladder truck to get me out and lifted me into the truck to get to the hospital.”

It strikes Helena suddenly, shamefully, that in the shock of finding out they’d missed the event itself, the hospital stay, and two entire weeks of healing, that they’d never circled back around for details on what actually went down the day it happened.

She never thought to wonder how he got off that street. How he got to the hospital. Who might have saved his life.

And she wishes she were a better person then. Wishes that learning Buck saved her son’s life overpowered her irritation at having him sitting here in Isabel’s backyard like he belonged here when Helena herself barely felt like she did herself. It does help, though.

“They released the street footage of the shooting,” Pepa continues quietly. “It’s on YouTube. Before I even knew it happened, Marguerita from church just sent me a link saying ‘they said it’s a Diaz, do you know him?’ and I saw.”

The idea of her son’s shooting being passed around like a cat video makes Helena sick, but Pepa lamenting how she hadn’t known when she learned about it in a matter of hours and sat on it for weeks…

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Pepa says decisively. “But they have an angle where you can see our Buck here go and get Eddie, pick him up like he doesn’t weigh a thing and get him into the truck to get to the hospital. Probably why he’s alive today. So gracias a Dios for those squats.”

Eddie and Buck are both looking away, both looking safely at Christopher while the table digests the news.

“If you were looking for a story of something really dumb, I can point you in the direction of another video of Buck,” Eddie says, his tone jovial but his eyes strained.

“You need to let that go,” Buck says in a definite whine.

“Do I?” Eddie asks. “Abuela did you see the video of the firefighter who went up the crane all alone?”

“Dios mío, Buck,” Pepa laments.

“Did you send it to me?” Abuela asks her, pulling out her phone and her glasses to check.

“No, mamá, it was an idiot firefighter but I didn’t realize it was the one we knew.”

“In the middle of an all-out declaration of war on firefighters,” Eddie begins, quietly for Christopher’s sake, but impassioned, sitting up in his chair, “this idiota and his squat count climbed up a crane ladder, completely exposed and defenseless—”

Buck looks pained. “I was wearing a bulletproof vest and a helmet. And that’s the job sometimes—”

“The paramedics’ job, actually, which you aren’t. So, no, that wasn’t the job.” Eddie’s tone edges into something darker without his meaning to. He takes a drink of his lemonade looking for all the world like he wished it was a beer. “And you know that or I wouldn’t have found out about it from Chim a month after the fact.”

Helena clenches her jaw tight and squeezes Ramon’s hand even tighter so neither of them can say, So you have a problem being left in the dark too?

“Buck,” Isabel sighs with disappointment.

Buck winces. “It was before— ” He cuts himself off, his wide eyes darting towards Helena and Ramon of all people.

“Hmm,” Isabel answers noncommittally, as if to end the conversation.

Just then, Sophia brings out a platter of bite-sized desserts, making the rounds of the whole circle for people to pick at before leaving it on the table. The opportunity to move on is there. That doesn’t mean they’re interested in taking it.

“Before what?” Ramon asks, his tone is forcibly casual.

The silence that greets Ramon’s question is heavy. Guilty. When Helena casts her eyes around, she’s greeted by stiff shoulders and a mix of apprehension shared between her son, her mother- and sister-in-law, and Buck.

Mom, listen...

“Before what?” Helena repeats, her voice uncompromising.

———-

The fight they have in Isabel’s guest bedroom is a Hall of Famer. It’s a screaming match, no doubt about it. The doors from the bedroom to the yard are all closed but there’s no question every member of the family — and Buck — can hear every word.

“Do you really hate us that much?” Helena demands. She’s crying but she doesn’t know if it’s heartbreak or fury, she just wishes it’d stop so she could lean into her anger. “Genuinely, honestly, Eddie.”

“I don’t hate you,” he protests, keeping his own voice down, making it seem like they’re irrational for their anger.

“Bullshit,” she spits.

“You must!” Ramon adds. “You hate us so much that you have to hate your sisters too? Your cousins? You would rather leave your only son to a stranger, some gringo coworker, than with family? That’s how much you hate us? Hate our name?”

“Our name?” Eddie shoots back incredulously. “What are you talking about, our name? We’re not royalty, papi, and Chris’ name would never change.”

“You would leave him to your coworker,” Helena stresses, disgust dripping from her tongue.

“To my best friend,” Eddie retorts, “who Christopher adores, if you haven’t noticed. And who adores Christopher right back.”

“That’s not normal, mijo,” Ramon warns.

“Jesus christ,” Eddie seethes. “Please do not star—”

“What kind of single adult man bonds with another man’s child like that?”

“You’re describing a tío, you understand that right? What, you think it’s weird that Pepa loves me like her own? You think Sophia should stay away from Chris too?”

“That’s family,” Helena argues.

“And they’re women!”

“Ramon, shut up,” Helena snaps.

“Buck is our family, and he’s a man, and he’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. If anything happened to me, Christopher would be taken care of like if I was still here.”

“Buck, the one who nearly got him killed in the tsunami? That’s the same guy right?” Ramon throws out, his eyes a little wild as he paces.

“The one who saved his life in that tsunami, despite being injured and then some. And the one who’s saved my life more times than I can count, including from being gunned down on the street. We’d both probably be dead if not f— ”

“Isn’t he the one who’s family is worse off than ours?” Helena recalls. “So he has no family, no support, no girlfriend even! So a worse position than you’re in now. That’s what you want to leave him with.”

“He doesn’t need a girlfriend to raise Christopher right, I don’t! And he has a great sister, he has the 118, he has Carla, and he has our family. You think Abuela and Pepa would shut the door on him? He’d be here every Sunday, with Christopher, just like I am.”

“And what does your girlfriend think of this?” Ramon presses. “The vice principal, she thinks this is normal?”

“Ana doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Eddie says, frowning.

Helena balks. “You think the woman you’ve been seeing seriously for nearly a year has nothing to do with long-term decisions about your son? You think maybe she wouldn’t want the option of taking Christopher in if something happened to you?”

“That’s not happening, he’s going to Buck and that’s final.”

“What’s going on with you and this gringo?” Ramon asks suspiciously. “Are you even going out with Ana or was that another lie?”

“Ramon, don’t go there,” Helena sighs, her heart clenching. That’s all they need in this clusterfuck, that layer of pain.

“No, let’s go there because you know what?” Eddie asks darkly. “There is no one on this planet I trust with my son more than Buck and yeah, if we need to lay it all out there, that includes the two of you. I know you love Christopher, just like I know Shannon loved him, but that’s not always going to be enough. Buck isn’t going to fill my son’s head with ideas about the wrong kind of way to love someone. He’s not going to tell him he’s not good enough for his family to love him or support him. Buck’s going to make sure Christopher grows up to follow his heart and find whatever makes him happiest in the world, no matter what that looks like.”

“How could you think—”

“What if he grows up to be gay?” Eddie asks pointedly, staring his father down. “You’re telling me you’re going to be the one to help him pick out a suit to go to prom with his boyfriend?”

Ramon purses his lips but tries, “it’s a different world now,” as if he hadn’t just tried to make crass insinuations just to hurt his son.

“Okay,” Eddie says, not believing him for a moment, “what if he’s trans? Tells you at 15 that he’s a girl and he wants to transition. You’re going to get him on hormone therapy?”

“Eddie that’s not—”

“What if he’s 20 and he tells you he got a girl pregnant by accident and he doesn’t know her enough to love her, and he’s not ready to be a father let alone a husband?”

Helena tries to speak but her throat is suddenly too tight for words to get out.

“You gonna tell him he’s not a man if he doesn’t marry her anyway?”

Ramon says nothing.

“Christopher is going to Buck, and that’s final.”

——————-

Helena and Ramon don’t show up for the third therapy session.

Their plane tickets were only for three weeks, originally, and as the days run out, they don’t talk about extensions.

———-

Helena is sitting out in Isabel’s backyard, trying to conjure up that feeling of serenity she got to bask in for all of two minutes the night of the birthday party.

It’s not working.

They’re going back to El Paso tomorrow, leaving their relationship with Eddie in worse straits than when they arrived.

There’s always been a tension between them and Eddie, but there’s also always been love and respect, and that love and respect formed a polite barrier around the things they couldn’t talk about. It kept their relationship safe. Kept them from getting too close to real honesty where things hurt in ways that couldn’t be walked back.

It feels now like that barrier has fallen. That Eddie’s finally reached the limit of what he could hold back and now there’s nothing to help them pretend everything is okay. Nothing to help Helena believe this is all something that could blow over.

That’s to say nothing of Christopher, who’s never felt as far away as he does now, even while they linger in the same city, only a couple dozen blocks away.

Helena scrolls listlessly through her phone’s camera roll for the last few weeks. There are pictures of Christopher mostly, but Eddie and the rest of the family are there too. It hurts to notice how Eddie is markedly happier in the shots where he’s looking away from the camera. Away from her.

Mom, listen…

Helena opens up Instagram and lets herself forget for a moment that anything is wrong. On Instagram, there is only joy and fun. And Buck.

Eddie hasn’t posted anything to his account in months but starting from the end and working backwards, Buck features heavily. He’s in at least a third of the pictures, usually with Christopher. One of the posts includes a short video that she watches. It’s of the day they unveiled the adapted skateboard, and it nourishes her soul. There’s no sadness here, or tension, only pure radiating happiness and excitement. It’s magical.

And it’s meaningful.

Mom, listen…

Helena is out of her chair and pocketing Isabel’s car keys before she can talk herself out of it. The drive to Eddie’s house is made with a carefully blank mind. She knows if she lets herself think about what she’s going to say, she’s going to spiral and get to a place where all this fear and sadness turn dark and ugly, and she can’t afford to risk it.

Finally, she’s knocking gently on a front door she’s only seen three times in the weeks she’s been here.

Buck answers the door.

————-

The house is quiet when Helena steps in.

She doesn’t bother taking her shoes off this time, she’s not sure how long she’ll be allowed to stay. But she notices that the space where her shoes would have gone is taken up by a pair of large boots she imagines fit perfectly on Buck’s feet.

Buck disappears into the living room and she follows quietly after him. The lights are off but the muted tv glows brightly enough for her to see Eddie reclined on his back on the couch, sleeping, and Buck sitting down on the edge of the coffee table to shake his arm.

Eddie’s always been a light sleeper, especially after the army and Christopher. He doesn’t wake easily now.

He’s wearing the sling, but it’s the only indication that anything is amiss with him. There’s no sign of pain or worry on his face, no tension in his shoulders. He’s practically melted into the recesses of the couch. He’s a picture of comfort. And why shouldn’t he be? He’s in his home, away from family, from expectations, and judgements. Just him and Christopher. And Buck.

Eddie finally takes a deep breath that shows his body is coming around but his eyes stay closed. Buck is murmuring something but she only catches, “ — mom — here.”

Then, at last, Eddie’s eyelids part, and the deep laxness of his body disappears almost in the blink of an eye.

“What?” he croaks, already trying to sit up.

Buck’s hands are already moving to support his back.

“ — says she wants to apologize.”

Eddie scoffs and sits upright, feet firmly planted on the floor as he blinks himself awake.

“Mom?”

“I’m here,” she says, stepping closer into the light of the tv.

Buck catches Eddie’s eye and they have an entire conversation in five silent seconds that ends with Buck nodding and getting up from the table, watching Helena warily as she approaches further.

“Watch your eyes,” Buck says quietly to Eddie before flipping the wall switch and illuminating the room. He lingers for a moment, clearly undecided about leaving, before saying, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Finally, Helena is alone with her son in his home. The quiet is almost peaceful, she doesn’t want to break it. Eddie does instead.

“Buck said you wanted to apologize, so I’m assuming he misheard,” Eddie says wryly.

There are pillow creases on the side of his face and Helena can’t remember the last time she saw him look so disheveled, so at home. It makes her heart ache for the days when she’d have to force him out of bed at noon on weekends, drive him to wrestling practice early in the morning, watch over him as he slept sometimes, just to make sure he was okay.

“Shockingly, no,” she smiles sadly.

Eddie blinks up at her for a moment before shifting down on the couch, leaving her some room to sit. She takes the invitation, but once she’s sitting down with Eddie’s full attention on her, she realizes not preparing what she wanted to say might have been a mistake. She has no idea where to begin. What scab to pick at that won’t cause more bleeding.

Then she remembers Adriana’s words.

What is it, under all the posturing, all the hurt feelings, all the history and baggage...what is it she actually, truly wants to say?

“I’m sorry I missed therapy.”

Eddie huffs a surprised laugh. “Of all the things…”

“I know, I know,” she rolls her eyes. “But I am. I…” She forces herself to slow down and consider her words. “I realize that therapy was an olive branch for you. One we took way too late and I’m...I’m just so fucking grateful we were able to take it at all, in the end.”

The tears are coming and there’s nothing she can do to stop them. They gather in the corner of her eyes and she tries to blink them away but has to settle for wiping away the ones that fall anyway.

“You were right,” she says. “You said — and your sister said, and the therapist said — that there’s a lot of hurt, and it’s become too hard to...to connect with each other because of it. And therapy is probably the only bridge through that. So even though I was pissed at you, I should have showed up.”

She hazards a look up at Eddie to find his brown eyes wide and cautiously wondering.

“Therapy is what’s going to help us and the only way to fail at it is to not show up.” It’s what the therapist had said in their first session. It had sounded like an easy thing to do then. “And that’s not okay. I’m not going to do that again.”

Eddie nods and looks away. His fingernails are flicking nervously against each other — a habit he picked up from her. “Is dad on the same page as you?”

Helena takes a deep breath, and blows out, “No, your dad is looking for a match to light the page on fire.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but there’s heavy hurt behind the indifference.

“I hid all of them,” Helena offers, “and left Abuela with the fire extinguisher.”

That gets a small smile.

“I really expected you to be more pissed about it than him,” Eddie says, he reclines against the arm of the sofa but no part of him looks comfortable with this conversation.

“Oh, I am—” The rage swells up in her. The outrage and indignation. But again, Adriana’s voice comes to her. “I...am...really, truly hurt, Eddie. I feel...I feel like you told me I’m not good enough to love Christopher how he needs.”

Eddie’s face collapses with disbelief. “You mean the way you’ve been making me feel since he was born? Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Since the moment Shannon got pregnant, you’ve both been hammering it in on us that we’d never be enough, we’d never be good enough for him. Why do you think I joined the army? Why do you think Shannon ran?”

The accusation makes her breathless, it makes that familiar rage bubble up closer to the surface. “Shannon made her own choices, you’re not going to pin that on us. And so did you.”

“No, I can’t pin that on you. She did choose to leave,” he concedes, his voice hardening. “But you spent five years telling her over and over that nothing she ever did was good enough, and when I got back you did the same to me! ‘Don’t drag him down with you.’ Does that ring any bells?”

“I spent five years helping her, being a second parent to Christopher when she was in over her head. She needed help. She wasn’t cut out—”

“No, she wasn’t,” Eddie agrees. “Neither of us were. We were stupid fucking kids who barely knew each other. She was supposed to get back on a plane to California when the semester was done and instead we got married in the backyard because you told us that’s what we had to do.”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie. You want to blame me for Christopher being born? For raising him in a family with two parents?”

“You’re not listening,” Eddie spits.

“I’m listening to you say over and over how I ruined your life because I didn’t let Shannon get an abortion. And that’s somehow the reason to keep us out of Christopher’s life now?”

“No, you’re not—” Eddie closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. “I love Christopher with everything I am. If I had the chance to go back and do everything differently, I wouldn’t. I would never. Being his father is the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I was a kid in over my head and my parents didn’t know what was best for me. Didn’t know how to help me. And I figured that out on my own, I grew up and became the man I am now on my own.” She wants to argue but he’s on a roll. “And that’s fine, no parent is perfect. I know I’m going to make mistakes and I hope to god Christopher can forgive me, so I need to forgive you yours. But I need you to see me, now. I need you to look at me and realize I’m not that kid you put in a suit in the backyard. I’m not the kid that signed up to get shot at instead of facing his life. I’m not that kid anymore, mom. I’m not.”

“I see that, Eddie.”

“No, you don’t. Because if you did, you wouldn’t constantly be telling me I need to move back to El Paso to take proper care of Christopher. You’d see that our lives are here now. I have a job I love and pays what we need. Christopher loves his school, his friends. He’s a popular, genius kid. He’s happy. I’m happy. And we’re doing good. But you don’t see that. You see that dumbass, scared kid making his next mistakes. And I’m sorry but I’m not going to let you drag me back into that spiral. If you need to be the parent to that kid, I can’t be the kid you’re parenting. I’ve grown up, mom.”

“So,” Helena clears her throat, hoping the waver in it will clear too. “That’s what the guardianship is? We...lost sight of you growing up. We didn’t give you what you needed. So you’re punishing us?”

Eddie sighs as if she didn’t understand.

“No, you know what? No, I’m sorry,” she switches tracks, her voice hard, “how are we supposed to see this new person you’ve become, Eddie? You left El Paso, left us behind, you won’t come home for holidays, you even stopped posting on Instagram, and when we come here to see you’re alive you won’t even let us into your home. So how? How are we supposed to see this magical transformation when you won’t let us in?”

Eddie watches her for a moment, weighing his words. “You show up for therapy.”

And that takes the wind out of her sails.

That’s what she came here for.

To apologize.

Not keep yelling.

Mom, listen…

Helena takes two deep breaths and crooks a smile. “Yeah.”

“You yell a lot.”

Christopher’s voice startles them both, pulling a short grunt of pain from Eddie as his shoulder jerks back. Christopher is leaning against the wall into the living room, wearing the disgruntled pout of someone who was woken up for no good reason.

“Christopher…” Eddie begins, trying to leverage himself off the couch.

Helena pushes him back down, and turns to Christopher, opening her arms.

“I do,” Helena admits softly, as Christopher comes over and leans into her side. “I do yell a lot. I’m...trying to yell less.”

“Dad never yells.”

Eddie smiles tiredly.

“Hmm,” Helena agrees, “I think there’s a lot of things I need to learn from your daddy.”

Christopher nods, his eyes drooping. “He’s the best,” he says, snuggling into her shoulder. She’s getting on a plane tomorrow so she takes the opportunity to relish in this hug, and press a long kiss on his curls.

“Ah, I thought I heard an escape artist on the prowl,” Buck says as he turns the corner.

“We woke him up,” Eddie says redundantly. “We’ll keep it quiet now, buddy.”

“K,” Christopher mumbles.

“Okay, buddy, let’s get you back to bed” Buck says quietly as he leans over to carefully scoop him into his arms. Christopher’s arms loop around his neck like he’s done it a million times, and his head falls to Buck’s shoulder.

“Buck’s the best too,” Christopher mumbles.

Buck’s ducks his face away.

“That’s what I hear,” Helena allows in a tone she hopes is gracious.

As they leave, they can hear Christopher say, “they stole your bed.”

Buck responds but it’s too quiet for them to follow the rest of the conversation.

Eddie ducks his head and sighs.

“That’s why you were keeping us away?” Helena asks, her voice more gentle than she thought she could muster at this point. “Because Buck’s crashing on your couch?”

Now that she’s looking, she spots the folded duvet stacked on the chair in the corner, the pillows tucked neatly below. It only makes her more aware that she found Eddie sleeping soundly on the very same couch.

“I didn’t — I didn’t want questions. I didn’t want dad’s look, the same look he has every time Buck comes up. The same look—” Eddie sighs harshly. “I didn’t feel like fielding questions. He was here for Christopher when I was in the hospital and when I came home… He helps. A lot.”

Helena nods pensively, and surprises herself by finding a kernel of gratitude towards Buck burgeoning in her chest.

“So, speaking of fucking up as parents,” she begins with a crooked smile that fades by the end of the phrase. She doesn’t know how to finish that sentence so she starts a new one. “The...hurt that piles up, that makes it hard to talk through...does some of it come from Matty?”

She can see an instinct flare up in her son to shake his head and dismiss the topic, but he doesn’t let it take hold. It’s time to face this.

“It didn’t help,” he admits.

Eddie and Matty met in sixth grade and became best friends almost instantly. They spent weekends in sleepovers, fought off other classmates to be each others’ group project partners, and spent every summer going to the same camps. Matty was an honorary Diaz before they even hit their teens.

Five years later, Matty came out to his family, and then to theirs. His parents took it well, Eddie’s parents didn’t.

The sleepovers stopped, the summer camps stopped, and if Ramon could have sent Eddie to another class he would have.

The day he came out to them was the last day he stepped foot in the Diaz home, a natural consequence of Ramon having run him out with caustic, angry words.

“We…” Helena licks her lips and looks away to gather her thoughts. “There’s a lot of reasons we reacted the way we did. Ignorance, more than anything. It really was a different world back then. But...the world has kept turning, things have kept changing and we can’t pretend to be ignorant anymore.” She looks Eddie in the eye to say, “we were wrong. We were wrong to chase him away. And if the day comes that Christopher is gay or trans or any of the other words we haven’t learned yet, we’re going to love him just as much as we do now.”

Eddie keeps her gaze for a moment before nodding. “I’m glad to hear it.” The way his shoulders gather near his ears says he doesn’t believe her though he’s trying.

Because when Eddie and Matty stood shoulder to shoulder to tell Ramon and Helena the news, Matty wasn’t the only one crushed. And they know, somewhere deep down, that their reaction was as extreme as it was because they were never fully sure if the hurt in Eddie’s eyes was on behalf of his best friend, or if they exploded before more news could be told.

And it still scares Helena to this day, to this very moment sitting on her son’s couch. It’s why they welcomed Shannon at first, the first girl Eddie really brought home, even though they didn’t approve of her overall.

But she knows now that there’s nothing anymore, not her pride, not her ignorance, that will stop her from trying to bridge the gap between them. So she continues deliberately, “and if this new, grown up version of you comes with any of those words, we’re not going to love you any less either.”

His eyes widen and for a moment she’s looking at her 17 year old son in the living room, eyes wide as Matty runs out of the house. She wishes this moment could replace that one, stamp out that mistake forever. But it can’t, so she has to make this one count even more.

“I’ll still be here, and I’m listening. I...I see you,” she says. “You and Christopher. I see you settled in so well here, even now with your injury.”

Eddie remains quiet, but apprehension creeps across his face and his eyes dart behind her where Buck and Christopher disappeared.

“I see the boots at the entrance,” she continues, her voice pitched low, “the extra toothbrush you forgot to hide away. The tupperwares full of food Isabel and Ana didn’t make. But more than anything, I see Buck. Everywhere.” A smile creeps up her lips. “The only place I didn’t see him was at brunch with Ana and call me crazy but I feel like you would have preferred he was there too.”

Eddie’s lip is being chewed to within an inch of its life, and his eyes are trained on the couch cushion.

“Hey,” she taps his knee. “You...grew up to be a good man, and a good father.” The words are so many years too late but she’s grateful to see them land as Eddie’s eyes begin to shimmer. “And you deserve everything you want for Christopher. Happiness, whatever that looks like.”

Eddie swallows thickly and clears his throat. “And dad?”

“Dad...has his head too far up his own ass to see or hear anything,” Helena admits. “But he’s due for a colonoscopy soon so I’ll work on it.”

Eddie chokes on a laugh that catches him off-guard and suddenly they’re both laughing, quietly so they don’t wake Christopher up again.

When they recover, Eddie invites her to the kitchen for a drink, where Buck is packing Christopher’s lunch for school tomorrow.

When she leaves, her stomach is in knots she imagines won’t smooth out for a few weeks yet, but a weight’s been lifted off her chest and her heart is full in a way it hasn’t been in years.

When she lands in El Paso, her phone pings with a message from Eddie: Hope you had a good flight. Free Friday for a call?

———-

When Friday comes, after catching up with Christopher, Eddie tells them he broke it off with Ana.

Helena digs her nails into Ramon’s knee instinctively, but she prepared him well and despite his continued reservations, all he says is, “That’s too bad, mijo.”

———-

Two months of virtual therapy and video chats later, Eddie tells them he’s bisexual. They react the way they should have all those years ago, and Helena tries to be grateful they got to have this moment at all instead of mourn for the years Eddie lost because of them.

There’s no mention of Buck, but Eddie’s eyes flit fondly over the laptop screen every once in a while at Christopher and someone else off-screen.

The call takes place at 8am LA time, and the sling has been gone for nearly three weeks.

———

At Christmas, Eddie and Christopher are waiting for them with smiles on their faces at LAX’s baggage claim. When they get home, Buck is there opening the door and helping them with their luggage.

Isabel isn’t there to mediate but supper that evening goes smoothly. The tension that lurks is anticipatory on all sides, a feeling of this being too good to last. But by dessert, everyone is sitting back in their chairs and smiling. And when Buck rounds the table to start the clean up, he places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, his thumb brushing the back of Eddie’s neck, and Helena watches as the last bit of strain melts out of his body.

The basket of gauze is nowhere to be found in the bathroom, nor is the purple toothbrush. Instead, there’s a third electric toothbrush standing in line with the rest.

Helena’s been keeping an eye out for opportunities to follow Adriana’s advice. To find the words she actually, truly means, and say them before she runs out of time. So before turning in, she takes Eddie aside and tells him, “I’m really happy you found your home here in LA. I’m really proud of the family you’ve made.”

And when she closes her arms around him, she can feel him fold into her like he used to as a kid, no polite distance or anxiety. Just comfort.

[anamoon63]

Check in tag

Thanks to my lovely friend @treason-and-plot for this tag!

Why did you choose your url?

My Tumblr account is supposed to be an English version of Los Sims de Ana, my Spanish blog in Blogger.

How long have you’ve been on Tumblr?

I started it in August, 2013. That’s almost 9 years, but I was inactive from April 2015 to February 2017.

Do you have a queue tag?

I'm afraid I don't know what a queue tag is, lol.

Why did you start your blog in the first place?

I wanted to have a blog in English, plus I noticed that Tumblr had a very lively TS3  community, so here I am. 😊

Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

My icon is a pic of Tony and Cassandra, from my Island Paradise story/gameplay. I chose them because they’re my favorite sim couple ever. <3

Why did you choose your header?

I have a pic of Sunset Valley as a header now, but I try to change it often. I use pics of Oasis Landing, Island Paradise and Hidden Springs as well. Those are the four worlds where my present stories take place.

What’s your post with the most notes?

No idea, but it’s probably one about Dale and Kelly, from my The Cho Brothers gameplay.

How many mutuals do you have?

I would tell you if I knew where to check that. For me mutuals are the simmers I truly interact with, you know, the ones that comment on my posts and I comment on theirs. I don’t have many, probably ten or less.

How many followers do you have?

255 after the latest Tumblr purge. (I wish I had more, but I admit I’m not the queen of social skills).

How many people do you follow?

526 last time I checked.

Have you ever made a shit post?

I don’t think so.

Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

I would say yes, twice. Neither of the two happened here on Tumblr.

The first one happened on a Sims 2 forum where I used to be, it wasn't a fight as such but a heated argument. I clarify that I wasn't the one who got in trouble, rather I was defending a friend who had a problem with the admins. We couldn't come to an understanding and they took away my Artist badge, (a symbolic distinction given to some members). I took down my pics and stories and I left the forums. No one won, we all lost because we couldn't sort our disagreements.

The second one we could call a fight, small but it was, it happened in Twitter when I tried to open an account of Los Sims de Ana on that platform. As soon as I started it, another simmer came out to say that the account name was already hers, that I had copied it or something like that. I was shocked!  Yes, our names were similar, they were only different in one letter, but not the same, we were definitely not clones. No one won, I guess, cause in the end each one kept her own name. From my side there are no hard feelings, it was an unpleasant moment and somehow scary, but now everything is fine for both of us-- I hope.

Sorry I don’t give more details but these are painful memories that still hurt a bit. I don't like fights, much less over a game.

How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

I don't reblog out of obligation, especially if it's about political stances or anything to do with delicate topics, my blog is only about The Sims 3. I sometimes reblog (voluntarily) posts from other simmers mostly of custom content that might interest or be useful to any of my mutuals. But that's about it.

Do you like tag games?

Yes I do! But sometimes I don't have enough time to answer them. Plus I get a little anxious talking personal stuff. 😅

Which of your mutuals do you think is Tumblr famous?

Hmm, fame is a tricky thing nowadays. Anybody can be famous in the internet. I think ‘fame’ in Simblr is more like popularity and has to do with certain skills like editing pics or creating custom content. In any case, I have my own ‘famous’ simmers among my mutuals, mostly writers and story tellers whose work I admire and love. They're my favorites and they're certainly famous for me. 💚

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

Not exactly on a mutual, but on their stories and/or their characters, writing, pictures, creations, etc. They're a few, all of them very talented. I’m not going to name names, but I think they know who they are. 😉

Since this is a tag I got more recently, I asume that not everybody has answered it yet, so I'm tagging @cherrybrsims @nectar-cellar @wannabecatwriter @nocturnalazure @serenasims @pudding-parade @echoweaver @cas-sims @rollo-rolls @kamel-simmer-ts3 @edyavtostopom

If you already answered this feel free to ignore it.

[ninak803]

Letters (XV)

I'm soooo sorry, this took me so long. So sorry. But it's here now! There are already two more, that only need transcribing and editing, so hopefully that won't take me weeks again.

@whataboutmyfries I love you. Thank you.

Characters by @lumosinlove, except Inés, she's miiine. And I love her, haha.

Dear Kasey,

You didn’t know. And how could you’ve known? Don’t worry, I really don’t blame you for being angry with me. If it was the other way around, I would’ve been furious, so please stop worrying.

Finn is okay. He keeps telling me that he’s perfectly fine and that the concussion didn’t affect him, but I know better. I went to one of his games last week, and he was different on the ice. More careful, less reckless. I know he’s going to be okay. He just needs some time to be his usual self again. But who am I telling this? You know how it is after an injury. I keep telling him that he should take it slow and that he shouldn’t push himself too much. He told me I sound like our mom. Idiot. I don’t. But I swear I could hear him rolling his eyes at me yesterday when I talked to him on the phone. He can be so annoying, but, man, I love this little dumbshit. But as it seems, I’m not the only one telling him to slow down. I told you about his teammate, Logan, didn’t I? I knew I could trust him. He’s watching Finn for me, and I’m really glad he does. (Finn isn’t)

But that’s enough about my little brother.

So! I had my date with Inés. (Mind the little accent on the e, I didn’t know how to write her name in the last letter. I learned that she’s half Mexican and her name’s the Spanish version, so it has that cute, little accent. The more you know.) Turns out, she’s incredibly smart and hardworking. She studies chemistry in New York and when she talked about her research, I had absolutely no clue what she was saying. She figured out pretty fast that STEM isn’t exactly my topic and broke it down, so I could grasp what she was talking about. If you’re curious about her research, you have to ask her yourself, because there’s no way I can tell you about it that does her work justice. So, sorry Kase.

We went out and met for a coffee at a lovely café she knew. Afterwards we went to Strand (You know, the book store where I took you several times) and… I lost her in it. I swear she was next to me and the next moment she was gone. It took me almost ten minutes to find her again, with a stack of books under her arm. But she looked so happy when she told me about her new “treasures” (her word, not mine). I have to remind myself not to take her there any time soon. She spent money she didn’t have on freaking books. (She’s a full time student, working as a part-time bartender, and our educational system is so fucked up that she has so much debt already, I hate it). Inés had to go back to class afterwards, but she agreed on meeting again soon. So I think I have a second date!

To be honest, the second date maybe should be a bit more romantic than this one, shouldn’t it? I’m not exactly the romantic type, so I’m open for any advice here. We had a good time though, at least I did, and I think she did too.

Wow, I’ve talked a lot about her now. Sorry about that. It’s probably not very interesting for you to hear about my dating life. But then you asked, so deal with the details now.

You want to go for a run with me when I visit you, huh? Sounds good to me, you know I love a good run. It’ll be like in the “good, old times” again, except that we won’t be running through NYC.

I’ll call you when I’m booking my flight, so we can coordinate everything a bit.

I’m excited to meet Natalie. I have high expectations  now, you’ve been saying so many good things about her, and I’m really curious. But she can’t be too bad if you like her. (You know I’m just teasing you.)

Have to go now,

Alex

[teddy06writes]

A Day In The Life

requesred by this genius anon: “Aight imma hit you with a good one: Literally everything as platonic, but a day in the life of reader in high school with the minor gang (too my, tubbo, ranboo) and all the faculty at the school are dreamsmp members”

Platonic! Minors gang (tommy, tubbo, ranboo and purpled) x reader

trigger warnings: none

premise: a day in the life of a student at the DSMP public high school 

{with all the shit that goes on the smp there's no way it could be anything but a public school}

{also if I do things slightly off or something its cause my high school is weird, we only have four blocks a day, but I think most have seven, so we’re going with that}

{also the dream/george thing, is based on two of the sciences teachers at my school being suspected of having an affiar}

{Full teacher list:

English: Mr. NotFound

Drama: Mr. Soot

Spanish: Mr. Dream (its mexican dream lol)

Gym: Coach Sapnap and Coach Punz

Home ec: Miss Nihachu

Music: Mr. Quackity

Chemistry: Mr. Halo}

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Home room: Mr. Callahan

You sighed, trudging toward the school entrance, god it was way to early for this. 

The halls were already crowded with people heading to there home rooms, and Mr. Minecraft, the principal, was standing outside the admin offices, greeting everyone with a smile. 

“Good morning, (y/n).” 

“Good morning Mr. Minecraft.” You grumbled as you passed. 

You hurried through the foyer and up the stairs, toward Mr. Callahan’s room. 

“Hey!” Tubbo called, hurrying down the hallway, “(y/n)!”

“Hey Tubbo.” you yawned.

He fell into step with you, “You think Callahan will actually show today?” 

The one good thing about your home room teacher is that none of the kids ever seemed to have seen him. It meant that some days, while other home rooms had lectures of bullying or something, your class got to hang out for 30 minutes. 

“I don’t think he even exists.” Purpled said, falling in on your other side. 

“He definitely doesn’t.” You agreed. 

~~

History: Mr. Blade

“Hey (y/n)!” Ranboo called from his seat at the front of the room as you came in. 

He was lucky enough to have moved homerooms and ended up getting the same room as his first block. 

“Hello Ranboo.” you sighed, sitting down in your seat next to him. 

Tommy came in and plopped down behind you, “Well you sound like shit.”

“No swearing in my classroom, Tommy.” Mr. Blade chided, hardly looking up from the book on his desk. 

You turned to look at Tommy, “It’s too early for this.” 

“You say that everyday!” He laughed. 

“Yeah! Cause this class starts at 7:45 in the god damn morning!” You half exclaimed. 

“Bloody hell you’d think you’d get used to it-” 

“Tommy, what did I say about swearing?” Mr. Blade cut Tommy off. 

“But you didn’t yell at (y/n)!” Tommy yelled, “That’s not fair Tech!” 

Me. Blade glared at his brother, “Do you want me to send you down to Phil’s office Tommy?” 

“I didn’t even do anything!”

After a moment under Mr. Blades glare, Tommy sighed, “Please don’t send me down to Phil.” 

The teacher didn’t respond, instead standing up and moving to stand in front of the board, queuing up the intro slides for the day, “All right everyone, settle down. Today in our ‘tour of the ancient world’ or whatever, we’re going to start our mini unit on Greece.”

~~

Statistics/Math: Mr. Was Taken

After a class that ended mostly in a rant about the myth of Heracles, you said goodbye to Ranboo and Tommy and met up with Purpled to head to math. 

Mr. Wastaken was already passing out the notes when you two got there, sliding into your seats at the back of the classroom just as the bell rang. 

“You’re late.” He chided, dropping the papers onto your desk, then Purpleds. 

“Purp needed to refill his water bottle.” You explained. 

“Seriously?” Mr. Wastaken questioned, “Dude, it’s second block, why the hell was your water already empty?” 

Purpled shrugged, “P.E?” 

“Ehh, wrong, Sapnap doesn’t have you till sixth period.” 

“Stairs... are murder man.” He fumbled. 

You nodded, “First floor to the fourth floor is tough Mr. Wastaken.” 

Rolling his eyes, the teacher moved back to the front of the room, “Alright, last nights homework was a bit of a flop so we’ll be more review for the quiz tomorrow.” 

You groaned internally, pulling out your pencil. 

Purpled nodded, “I fuckin hate review days.” 

“I can hear you, you know!” Mr. WasTaken half yelled. 

~~

Chemistry: Mr. Halo

After Math you and Purpled headed down to the science hall to meet back up with Tubbo to head to Chem. 

“Welcome back everybody!” Mr. Halo greeted cheerily, “Good to see smiling faces for chemistry!” 

How he managed to stay so upbeat, no one would ever know.

You sat down at your lab table with Tubbo, “You think we actually make it to doing the lab today before he starts talking about Mr. Skeppy again?” 

“Oh no chance.” 

You chuckled, pulling out your notebook as Mr. Halo pulled up the opening review before the lab. 

Twenty minutes later found you elbow deep in the lab, quite literally. 

“It was supposed to just be a small scale elephants toothpaste!” Mr. Halo cried. 

Purpled grinned, “You should’ve taken my wildcard factor into account sir.” 

You laughed, wiping the foam off your apron (thank god for lab aprons), “That was brilliant!” 

A few minutes earlier, Tubbo had helped him do out the math to scale up the experiment by 20%, and you had willingly given up your own materials to help.

Now most of the classroom was covered in the foam, and Purpled and the girl who had been unfortunate enough to be partnered with him were knee deep in it. 

“I sent the video to the groupchat.” Tubbo whispered.

“Good.” You chuckled again. 

Mr. Halo groaned, “You three start cleaning this up, Elizabeth, dear, why don’t you join a different group.”

“I volunteer to switch with her!” Drista yelled, “they look like fun!” 

Mr. Halo sighed, “No- no absolutely not- I can’t deal with you added to the mix.” 

Drista pouted, the rest of the class went back to there work, and you, Tubbo and Purpled began to clean up the foam. 

~~

Drama: Mr. Soot

As Purpled left for his history class, you and tubbo headed twoard the music/performing arts suit, where you met up with Ranboo. 

“Tommy said he wished he could’ve been there to see the foam.” Ranboo reported as Tubbo peeled off into the band room, and you both continued on to the green room. 

“Hello, Hello, Hello!” Mr. Soot greeted in an aussie accent (you know the one). 

“Oh god please say were not doing accents today.” Ranboo muttered. 

Mr. Soot laughed, “Nah, we’re going to do some more rounds of improv.” 

“Oh thank god.” You said as you moved to take a seat at one of the side tables. 

“That would have been hell.” Ranboo agreed. 

More people poured into the room, take seats all around as Mr. Soot began to dig through on of the closets. 

As the bell rang he let out a triumphant cheer, turning around and brandishing a very large bowl of paper slips, “I found the prompts!” 

“Oh dear lord.” Ranboo muttered.

“Mr. Soot can we please do like, anything else?” You asked, “Like scenes, or hell I’d even take monologues, you know we’re all shit at improv!” 

The teacher sighed, “I suppose we could do something else. I guess we can begin our next topic, you’re all going to be assigned scenes and given time to practice them, we’ll present on Friday!” 

The entire class breathed a sigh of relief that you had managed to change his mind. 

~~ English: Mr. NotFound 

After a very chaotic lunch full of Tubbo retelling a bunch of jokes Mr. Quackity had told during music,  you trudged off to the one class that didn’t have any of your main group of friends in. 

The one good thing about having Mr. NotFound as a teacher was that he had no clue what he was doing. 

More often then not you would be left to do essays or read the required books, and then watch the movies that went along with them.

And, just your luck, your English block happened to take place during Mr. Wastaken’s prep period. 

“Right, everyone, today’s a work day, finish up anything you need to for this class, or another, and I’ll put on a movie.” Mr. NotFound said as soon as everyone was seated. 

Ten minutes into the movie the teacher had left, and you pulled up the group chat.

(y/n): Mr. NotFound has yet again suspiciously left during class. 

Purp: sus

Purp: just went by WasTaken’s room

Purp: he’s not there

BooBoy: I saw him down in the science hall ten minutes ago

BeEs: Science hall is oposite to English isn’t it

(y/n): yeah it is

BooBoy: very sus

Purp: I swear their having an affair

BeEs: defintly a lesbian

BeEs: *leassion

BeEs: lesion

BeEs: le-a-zon

BeEs: you know what I mean!

BooBoy: take your time Tubbo

You chuckled quietly, putting your phone down to look back up at the movie on the screen. 

~~

Spanish: Mr. Dream (its mexican dream lol)

“AYYYY kids!”

You groaned as your Spanish teacher burst into the room.

“What is with this guy?” Tommy muttered. 

“ayy man not cool.” Mr. Dream said. 

“Mr. Dream your ten minutes late!” Someone pointed out. 

“SHut up man. And I told you just call me Mexican Dream!” The teacher said. 

You frowned, “That doesn’t make sense, theres no way your first name is ‘mexican’.” 

“Well its not,” He explained, “But its cause I’m the Mexican version of that math teacher!” 

“Why couldn’t I have taken French like Boo and Purp?” Tommy asked the ceiling quietly.

~~ Home ec: Miss Nihachu

The last block of the day was always the best, but not just because school would be over soon. 

There were three main reasons why everyone agreed it was the best. 

1. Miss Nihachu was the nicest teacher in school

2. baking was done often, and everyone always got to take some home

3. it was the one class you, Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo and Purpled all had together. 

Soon your found yourself crowded into one of the tiny kitchen areas with all your friends, as Miss Nihachu gave instructions. 

“Now, if you make a mess you will be cleaning it up! I’m looking at your kitchen a!” She said, half threateningly.

Ranboo pushed away from the group, “I’m not with them I swear!” 

Miss Nihachu rolled her eyes playfully, “Sure your not.” 

Surprisingly, a mess was not fully made. 

Somehow between Tommy wanting to taste the cookie dough at every step from butter to flour, Tubbo trying to add as many chocolate chips as he could, and Purpled all but refusing to move from where he was sitting on the counter, you and Ranboo managed to get the cookies into the oven with no real disasters. 

As you wiped down the empty counter space you sighed, “That wasn’t too bad.” 

“Yeah.” Tubbo agreed. 

Tommy only nodded, still eating the large glob of cookie dough he’d stolen. 

Ten minutes before the bell rang and when everyone was supposed to be finishing cleaning up you sniffed the air suspiciously, “Why do I smell burning?” 

Tubbo took a deep breath, “I smell it too.”

“Oh yeah, something is definitly burning.” Ranboo agreed. 

You whirled to face Purpled, who was absently scrolling through his phone, “Purp you did set a timer right?” 

[rafivadafreddy]

Kissing Secrets

A fivr part story about our favorite ADA Rafael Barba and his FBI gf.

Summary: What happens when the SVU squad meets Rafaels’ girlfriend, but under not so great circumstances?

Word Count: 2,373 Warnings: Cursing, angry couple, Spanish, angst, talk of rape and drug case.

Dating never came easy to Rafael Barba. But when he found someone with a job as hectic as him. It was perfect. Neither expected much from the other, when one had to cancel the other would understand. 

Of course, Y/N would be more than understanding. She had two bachelor degrees under her belt and after long days and nights with the 20 weeks of New Agent Training with the FBI at Quantico. She, just like Rafael, worked hard to get where she was. Trying to make a name for herself. Starting at twenty-five and becoming a special agent before her twentieth eight birthday, Y/N knew she would make it.

Y/N and Rafael met when she was looking for a job, needing to complete two years of work experience to become a special agent. Working as a rookie cop in a district in Brooklyn. Well, one night an angry cuban man walks into the precinct. His fancy three piece suit was a mess and he claims he was assaulted. Knife wound to his arm, Y/N was the cop to take care of him.

One thing led to another, Rafael left the precinct with a smile. Having left his number behind for the cop. To ‘call’ if she had any questions about his assault. Of course, Y/N was able to find the guy who assaulted the ADA and was able to get his phone back from the man.

Almost three years passed and they were still happy with the other. Dinners, nights in and a couple who were in love with the other. Y/N met his mother and his abuelita, things were perfect. So, when Y/N graduated, celebrating the fact that she made it through the FBI academy. Thankfully, Y/N was able to stay at the federal bureau of investigation in New York City.

»---------------------►

A few months into her new job, Y/N felt as if she was on a high. It was her biggest case yet and it was hers… well, her’s along with her partner, Agent Shawn Carter. Having been staying overtime the past month, getting together evidence and witnesses to take down an organized sex trafficing crime involving a drug lord that’s on their most wanted list, Y/N wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of her bringing every last one of them down. Especially when the last victim she was notified of was a thirteen year old. 

“Hola mi amor…” Y/N smiled at the call of her boyfriend. Rafael had been her rock the past few years as Y/N worked on getting into the FBI.

“Hola mi corazón…” she heard him chuckle into the phone. “Dinner tonight? Think you can make it?”

Glancing at her watch, Y/N thought about it. “I think so yeah. We’re going to pick up a perp right now and if it all works out. I’ll be able to spend all night with you.” She told him and sighed. “I’m sorry for being super busy lately.”

“Hey, none of that. I understand. It 's your job. My girlfriend, the badass FBI agent.” the two laughed and Y/N smiled.

“My boyfriend, the hot shot ADA. I’ll get out early to have dinner with you. No matter what, you’ll come first tonight.” She told him, noticing they were nearing Manhattan.

“Now, now… You know you always come first when we’re together.” Y/N could hear the smirk as he spoke and she just laughed.

Saying goodbye with many ‘i love you’s’ Y/N put her phone away and sighed, the smile feeling permanent on her lips. 

Ten minutes later, the black car pulled up outside the Special Victims Unit of the 16th precinct. Both Y/N and Shawn looked at one another before nodding. It wasn’t going to be fair and it wasn’t like they knew. But the SVU team had picked up a perp they had been watching and started an investigation on him. Something Y/N couldn’t let happen. No this was her case.

Walking into the building and getting directions to the SVU floor, Y/N walked with her head held high. The skinny jeans she wore, along with the blue button down shirt. She made sure to have her badge clipped to her pants. Gun in its holder and ID already out in her hand.

“Can I help you, agent?” a woman asked, making Y/N turn to look at a blonde who walked over. That caught the other detectives attention. 

They were already wondering why the FBI was there. 

“As a matter of fact you can. I’m special agent Y/N L/N and this is my partner, Agent Shawn Carter. I’m afraid I’m here to collect the perp you have in custody along with everything you have against him.” she told the women, except her eyes were on a brunette woman. Whom Y/N knew was in charge. She did her research before storming into the precinct this way.

“Why should we do that? This is our case, don’t see why the Feds want a low life like him.” another detective spoke up and Y/N looked over at him. From his voice and stance, it was obvious he was angry.

“Calm down, Amaro.” the brunette finally spoke up. “Olivia Benson.” she introduced herself and Y/N shook her hand. “Now, you say you need this guy. Why? From what we’ve gathered, he’s just a scum who likes underage girls.”

With a sigh, Y/N nodded. But she didn’t say anything when a familiar voice spoke up. “What’s going on here?”

“Ah! Barba, you’re going to love this.” The Amaro fellow looked amused. “The FBI is here to take our case.”

“Oh yeah? On what grounds?” Barba asked.

“On the grounds that he’s a suspect in an ongoing Federal case.” Y/N said, turning to look at the man she just told she loved, not even half an hour ago. “Miguel Hernández raped and murdered a thirteen year old girl three days ago. And I know you guys picked him up cause he was caught in the act of raping another victim. Now imagine my surprise when I found out that SVU caught him. Even though notice went out to contact the FBI if Mr. Hernández is picked up by officers or detectives of New York.” she spoke, informing all of them, even though her eyes stayed on Rafael.

“He also has information about Lorenzo Torsney.” Shawn spoke up for the first time. 

“Wait, Torsney, the guy linked to the sex trafficking ring with the underage girls? The same Lorenzo who’s rumored to be the new Drug lord of New York?” some guy spoke up, his thick accent catching Y/Ns attention. 

“That’s the one.” Both agents spoke at the same time. “So, Lieutenant. The case files and Miguel if you please.” Shawn said and followed Bensen into her office to grab the paperwork to make the transfer. 

Y/N on the other hand went to look at the window that showed into the interrogation room. Hearing footsteps, Y/N smiled at the male and nodded to the detective seeing the coffee he got her. “Thanks…”

“Ah, Dominick Carisi, Jr. but everyone calls me Sonny.” the thick accent said and Y/N raised an eyebrow.

“I get the feeling, no one calls you, Sonny… Sonny.” she smirked and looked at Miguel again.

Thankfully he got quiet after that. Though what Y/N failed to notice was Rafael standing in the doorway. “Excuse us, Carisi.” he said, in his ‘this is my mad, but trying to stay professional” voice.

Sonny couldn't get out of the room faster, not that Y/N blamed him. She would have ran as well.

"You couldn't have told me on the phone that you were coming to pick up the guy from my case?" Rafael whispered, looking real mad. 

Yet, Y/N just rolled her eyes. "Tu caso? Last I heard, you were still working in fucking Brooklyn! Que diablos, Rafael!" She hissed at her boyfriend. "You changed fucking districts and never told me?"

"Oh, that's rich. Coming from the one always canceling our dates!" 

"¡Vete a la mierda!" Y/N narrowed her eyes. "Who canceled the last THREE dinners? Wasn't me, that's for fucking sure." She scoffed and pushed past him. 

"Real professional Detectives.." Y/N rolled her eyes at the SVU team all scrambling back to their desks. Pretending like they wern’t eavesdropping on Y/N and Rafael. 

"Y/N, vuelve aquí, ahora." 

Only, Y/N ignored him. Pulling out her phone, she had to put in a call for another agent to come out to the district and collect Miguel. All while ignoring Rafael. Who was trying to glare her into submission.

'Good luck, papi. Not gonna work now.' Y/N thought and  looked away from the detectives. Answering emails and texts on her phone. Already getting a location of where Shawn and her needed to go after leaving SVU. 

»»---------------------►

As Miguel was getting put into cuffs, both around his wrists and ankles. Y/N watched, making sure nothing would go wrong. Turning to the detectives, she gave them a sad smile.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t let you guys have this case.” she told them, sounding sincere. “If he wasn’t important to catching Torsney, I would have let you keep the case.” she added, thanking Shawn as he handed Y/N her FBI jacket.

Hearing two different scoffs, but from two cuben men. Y/N rolled her eyes and shook Olivia’s hand. “It’s fine, at least you’re getting him off the streets… and something tells me, you interrogating him will make what we did look like preschoolers.” she smirked and Y/N shrugged.

“Let’s just say, the cameras are not on all the time.” Shawn spoke up and Y/N shook her head. 

“Yes they are, thank you for giving me a heads up to watch all the interrogations you do from now on.” she narrowed her eyes and told him to go wait in the car. Saying goodbye, Y/N turned and made her way out. 

Getting into the car, Y/N rubbed a hand over her face and told Shawn they were needed over in the Bronx.

“So… that was your boyfriend. Huh?” the male next to her spoke up after a few minutes of silence in the car. 

Of course, with her telling him to shut up the car ride continued on quietly.

Hearing her phone let out a ping Y/N grabbed it and read the text from Rafael.

Papi: So, I guess we need to talk later.

Y/N: Yeah, I’ll tell you when I get off. Don’t know when that’ll be. There was a bomb over in the South Bronx. Was put on the case to deal with it.

Keeping the reply simple. Wanting Rafael to know she was mad at him. Not even replying to his ‘stay safe’ and not cause she didn’t want to. But because they had arrived and the scene they saw. It was a complete mess. 

News crews were filming everything happening, people being put into ambulances and being taken care of.

“OK! What do we know?” Y/N asked, tying her H/C hair up into a ponytail.

As they were getting information, Y/N looked around. Not knowing cameras were pointed towards both her and her partner.

Turning to the officer telling them what had happened, Y/N frowned. “What time was the explosion? Exactly.” she asked and Y/N felt like she paled when being told it had been Nine minutes.

“We need every emergency vehicle headed here stopped outside the perimeter, and evacuate the building.” she commanded and stopped when the Battalion Chief spoke up. 

“I got half a dozen guys inside checking structural damage, twice that many going door-to-door --”

 Y/N just cut him off. “Have them grab anyone they see, and get out. Now.” her confidence leaves no doubt and the man nods. Talking to everyone he can and getting as many people out as possible.

With Shawn helping out on the other side, also helping people move away from the building the explosion went off in. It left Y/N to run after a woman who was running towards the apartment building. Crying about how she wanted her son's body

Y/N was able to get her away, but when the second explosion hit, both her and the woman were flown forward. Y/N being knocked out.

Rafaels’ POV:

He was getting shit for not saying anything to the team about his FBI girlfriend. Not like he knew if they were even going to be that later on when they talk. But still, he sat there and let them poke and joke around. The team had gotten takeout and were relaxing since there were no other cases. Rafael deciding to join them (not like they gave him much of a choice in the matter)

“Hey, Barba… didn’t you say Y/N was out in the South Bronx?” Rollins asked, causing Rafael to turn away from Liv and look at the blonde detective.

Moving his head to see what she was looking at, Rafael felt a chill in his stomach as he watched the News on the TV. They were covering the story of what was happening.

The team were all quiet listening to the man speak, the camera moving to where Y/N stood with her partner. Rafael watched as she took charge of the situation, he felt proud of her. But he had a nagging feeling, seeing everyone move quickly at whatever command she gave.

“By the looks, Agent Y/N L/N of the FBI gave orders to evacuate the building. Will there be another explosion, how does she know to get everyone out of the building? Whatever it is, everyone seems to be listening….” but Rafael turned the man's voice out. 

In the background he could see Y/N running towards the woman and he shot up out of his seat when the second explosion happened. Cutting short the camera. No one was moving or saying anything as they just watched Rafael, who looked on the verge of a panic attack.

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart