#promesa thoughts

[laufire]

I'm enjoying "La Promesa" a lot but one of my favourite things is how competent Jana, the protagonist, is. yes she has tremendous strength of character yes she can handle anything you throw at her yes she saves her love interest's life from an aeroplane accident in the pilot yes she has advanced medical knowledge despite being "just a maid" and saves the cook's life with it yes she has the knowledge to offer to take care of a woman if she goes through with an abortion yes she easily picks up mechanical knowledge to help her love interest with his aeroplanes yes she can do anything she sets her mind to and she's also full of solidarity with her peers and anger for the higher class and she's charming and quick on her feet and justice-oriented and and and.

TL;DR I asked for more Mary Sues and I was given Jana Expósito <333

[neroushalvaus]

Girl help I have a fix-it in my head for My Shows, La Promesa, also known as Spanish Downton Abbey, a show famously only watched by middle-aged Finnish women

[caostalgia]

¿Por qué no lo cumpliste?

Prometiste que volverías.

Yo creí en ti.

De verdad lo hice.

Alexander Alay.

[luanggie]

Y como dijo Lara Jean;

"No quiero estar con un chico cuyo corazón pertenece a alguien más. Solo por una vez, quiero ser la primera opción de alguien”.

I really feel the same sh!t :(

[wosoamazing]

Promesa Part 2

Warnings: Mentions of Surgery, Mentions of the RFEF past abuse, being sick (very end section)

Notes: Could be crap, could be good, I've been sitting on this for a while now but I've decided to post it, I don't like it but idk if that is just me or not so yeah (It’s a bit bitsy just as a warning) 1.7k words

You entered the apartment and slowly crutched your way over to the couch, Ingrid following closely behind, before she helped you sit down and lift your leg onto the couch, and said she would be right back with some pillows and blankets. However the exhaustion started to take over, and you laid back against the couch cushion, Ingrid finding herself caught up in a conversation with Mapi, along with almost the whole Spanish team over the phone, all wondering how your surgery went and if you were okay or not..

When Ingrid came back with the pillows and the single doona that was purposely bought for ‘couch recovery’, she was greeted with a very similar image from when Mapi had done her meniscus. You were now resting your head against the arm of the couch as you slept, Ingrid decided just to place the couch throw under your leg to slightly elevate it, so she didn’t disturb you, knowing you were due for your pain meds in half an hour anyway, so she would make sure to properly elevate your leg then. She took a quick photo before going back into the kitchen showing Mapi.

You sat on the physio bed nervously, Ingrid and Mapi sat either side of you on stools.

“We’ve looked at what the surgeon sent over, and have had many in depth discussions as a team and although it might not be what you want to hear, we think our best option is to be looking at a 9-12 month recovery.” You nodded wordlessly

“So week 1 & 2 we are looking at almost complete immobilisation. So completely reliant on crutches for movement, non-weight bearing. Mapi and Ingrid have said they are staying with you these next two weeks so we have no concern about that,” again you nodded wordlessly, as the thoughts in your head started to overwhelm you, mixing in with and blocking out his words.

That's the whole season. They’ve cancelled their holiday for me. Two weeks, of nothing.

“Game ready for icing”

Can’t do anything for the next two weeks

“Compex”

No olympics. No Spanish team caps. No medal

“Can you stop for a moment please,” you vaguely heard your sister say. Mapi had noticed you were spacing out and assumed it was because you were overwhelmed, she placed her hand gently on your thigh, to ‘bring you back’ before continuing to talk, “I’m sorry, I know this meeting was for us to talk through the recovery process and everything however I think we need to do this differently, do you maybe have a print out version of everything you were going to tell us today and we could all read through that at our own pace, maybe if needed we could book another appointment for next week, to talk more and answer any questions,” this time it was the physio’s turn to nod wordlessly, before he left the room.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out before tears started to roll down your cheeks.

“Hey, no. There is no reason to say sorry. We shouldn’t have just assumed what works for us would work for you,” your sister told you as she stood up before wrapping her arm around your shoulders, “we’ll go home, you can read through it, either by yourself or with us and then we can talk. We’ll get through this together. Promesa.”

It had been 4 weeks since your surgery, and you were still using crutches. In three days Mapi and Ingrid were leaving for the USA meaning you would be left home alone, so you needed to start trying to be more independent, which started with you carrying your own breakfast bowl to the couch.

“I can take it, don't worry about it, it’s nothing,” Ingrid insisted.

“No, it’s fine, I’ve got it,” you snapped back, and although Ingrid could see this going badly maybe this would be the breakthrough you needed, and with just you and her home it might be good, Mapi was good and all however she didn’t make you talk, Ingrid did, which although you never wanted to do when you were upset, you were always grateful for it later, talking prevented the build up of emotions. Two steps later there was a loud smash followed by a crash, your breakfast bowl ending up on the floor, smashing, yoghourt and muesli going everywhere, soon followed by your crutches which you dropped, before you let out a small yelp, having tensed your Quad too much, causing a pain to shoot through your leg.

-

“What’s all this about?” Ingrid asked as she sat on the couch next to you and you just shrugged at her, she had given you time to stew after placing an icepack on your knee, as she didn’t want to leave the mix of yoghourt and ceramic on the floor, “I’m not Mapi, I’m going to keep pushing, you know that, you need to talk, it’s all well and good to let the tears out but you also need to get your feelings out with words too”

“I’m useless, I can’t do anything, and you and Mapi and everyone on the team is going to the US soon and I’m going to be alone, I need to figure out how to take care of myself, do simple everyday tasks,”

“You’re not staying here, you’re coming with us, why’d you assume we’d leave you alone?”

“Because I’m a burden, I’ll be a distraction, I can’t even carry anything myself,” Ingrid looked at you a little shell shocked, “the team doesn’t want me there, I wouldn’t be any help anyway, it’s not like I can play,”

“Yes we do, we all care about you, I can promise you every single person on the team loves you, they want you there, I want you there, Mapi wants you there,” Ingrid told you.

“Can I sit with Alexia on the plane? You and Mapi deserve a break, you’ve done so much over these past few weeks,”

“I don’t know if Mapi will let that happen,”

“She will, because I want to, she likes to make me happy,” you told Ingrid before letting it sink in, “she’s been seeing the team psychologist because of me hasn’t she.”

“Not exactly, she feels guilty, she was already annoyed with herself that she had let you go without her, after everything that happened, she felt like she should’ve been there with you, to protect you, she was angry with herself at the fact that she let you go but she still wouldn’t go herself, and then you got injured and she wasn’t there, she was worried, she was upset and angry with herself,” Ingrid said almost holding back tears.

“I’m sorry,” you said before you lent into Ingrid.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, you’ve done nothing wrong,”

It had been 10 months, and you were still yet to make your return, you’d made your return to the bench but not the pitch, you were frustrated to say the least, you were back to training properly, you were doing excellently, you’d been performing better in training than you had before your injury, and yet you still couldn’t get any minutes. 

“Okay Nena, that’s it, let it out, estic aquí (I’m here),” Alexia said as she rubbed your back, whilst you hunched over the bin in the gym, most definitely having overworked yourself in your extra gym session.

You slid down the wall to the ground, trying to catch your breath after just emptying your entire stomach contents into the bin. Alexia had left, you knew she’d be back, you were just hoping it wasn’t with Mapi or Ingrid.

-

“You went too hard today, sí?” Alexia sat down next to you, handing you your water bottle with cold water in it.

“Sí, I just want to get back on the pitch, but apparently I’m not okay mentally,” you replied.

“Mental health is important though, no?”

“Yes, but what do they expect, of course I’m not okay mentally, I’ve worked the hardest I ever have for the past 10 months so I can get back onto that pitch and they won’t let me on it, I’m never going to get on the pitch, I may as well just quit now, what more do they want from me?” you harshly said as hot tears streamed down your cheeks, Alexia hummed in response.

“Go shower, I’m going to talk to Pere,” Alexia said and before you had time to object she was up and gone.

-

“Nena is coming home with me,” Alexia told your sister, as her and Ingrid walked into the locker room.

“Por qué (why?)”

“Because when she walks out of that shower, you’re going to tell her the reason she hasn’t played again yet, and when you do she isn’t going to be happy,” and almost as if on cue you walked out of the showers, “go ahead, tell your Nena,”

“I’m the reason you’re not playing yet, I told them you weren’t ready yet, that your head wasn’t in the right place, I promised to protect you and that’s what I’m doing,”

“You’re not protecting me by saying I wasn’t ready to return to the pitch, you’re hurting me, all this time I thought it was me, I thought I was doing something wrong, but it was you, you’re the reason I just trained so hard I threw up, you’re the reason I’ve been crying myself to sleep every night, you’re-” “Nena,” Mapi cut you off.

“No, I don’t want to talk to you,” you snapped before walking out of the locker room, Alexia scrambling to get your stuff.

Leaving Mapi and Ingrid standing in the middle of the locker room, Mapi wondering where she went wrong and Ingrid wondering how she was meant to handle this situation. Meanwhile you were sobbing into Alexia’s shoulder as she stood with her arms tightly wrapped around you in the middle of the car park.

[apute11as]

Terrible twos - Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen (+child)

Summary: Mapi and Ingrid are navigating the terrible twos.

Warnings⚠️: none I don’t think?

Author note: I’m not sure if two year olds can speak this well? Let’s say she’s almost 3😂?

Based on this request :))

~~~~~

“MAMMAAAA! MAMI!” your sudden cries ring though the apartment.

The noise startled Mapi awake, her shifting on the bed waking Ingrid up from next to her. Ingrid began to sit up to go and check on you but was quickly stopped by her girlfriend beside her.

“I got her amor, you need rest” Mapi said, gesturing to the Norwegians growing bump.

“Ok thank you please come get me if she’s still fussy” insisted Ingrid

“Will do” Mapi replied, kissing her temple and making her way to your room next door.

When she got there she found you sat on the edge of your bed with your knees tucked into you chest, nightlight on, tears tracks staining your cheeks.

“Oh bebita what’s wrong Mami is here” Mapi comforted, cradling you into her chest.

“Scared” you replied meekly

“Of what Bebé?”

“I don’t like the big girl bed!” you snapped “I want my cot back!” you spat

“Oh querida but you’re a big girl now, you have a training bed. Plus we are going to need the cot for when your baby sister arrives” she offered hoping to calm you down

“No! That’s my bed baby sister can get her own!” you urged, thrashing your fists onto the mattress beside you.

“Hey hey calm down, I thought you were a big girl?” Mapi questioned knowing that this phrase usually worked with you

“I am a big girl!” You insisted

“Big girls don’t need baby beds do they?” Mapi asked you

“No guess not but I’m still sad” you pouted

“Why are you said bebita?”

“You and Mamma will love the new baby and forget about me!” you sobbed

“No no mi amor we could never forget about you! We will love the new baby and you just the same!” Mapi urged you

“¿Promesa?” you held out your pinky finger as it was yours and Mami’s so called ‘super secret swear’

“Promesa” Mapi replied, interlocking your pinkies and shaking them.

——

That was the first of many tantrums that came with the ‘terrible twos’, which were not helped by the problematic jealously of your unborn sibling.

When your Mamma and Mami found out it was another baby girl, the possessiveness only increased. That much was evident when you and Mamma went to watch Mami and the team training one day.

“Do you have your bag princesa? asked Mami as she grabbed her keys off the side ready to drive the two of you to the training facility.

“Oops no” you announced before toddling back to your room to grab it

When you returned Mamma shoved some snacks into the pockets and grabbed your hand, before turning to the lock the apartment door. The car journey was surprisingly pleasant (you often had a habit of asking if you were nearly there hundreds of times). Mamma strapped you into your car seat and put on some of your favourite Spanish songs which you happily attempted to sing to (getting most of the words wrong).

When you got there Mamma helped you out of the car seat and insisted you hold her hand whilst she walked because you also had an annoying habit of running off when no one was looking.

Mamma greeted the security guards at the entrance as they had a long conversation that you thought was boring. They kept asking Mamma about the baby and you just wanted to hurry up and go play with the team.

Finally they stopped talking and Mamma guided you through the building and into the changing rooms that led onto the pitch.

“Now elskling you need to be good ok. I don’t want you distracting the girls whilst they’re training. I can’t run off after you now ok because of the baby so stay on your toy mat or playing with the ball on the side ok?”

Said Ingrid sternly

“Ok Mamma I’ll be good” you beamed up at her with a toothy grin

“Of course you will mi solskinn” she said returning the smile.

The two of you walked out hand in hand as you spotted the girls training on the pitch at the end of the field. You watched as Mamma took your bag and got out a small blanket to put on the floor. She then took out the colouring book and plastic fairies that you’d put in there and laid them out for you to play with.

You’d been playing peacefully for around 10 minutes, completely in your own world before Mamma’s voice snapped you out of it.

“I’m just going to the toilet bebita okay? Your baby sister has decided to sit on my bladder” she laughed. “So stay here and play nicely ok I’ll be 5 minutes” she said with a serious expression

“Okay Mamma” you said without a second thought.

All you were thinking about was what a bladder actually was. You hadn’t heard that word before and you’d wondered why, whatever it was, your baby sister was sat in it. It took about 30 seconds of you repeating the word for you to realise Mamma had actually gone. You contemplated starting to cry, hoping that would bring her back but after thinking it over in your head you’d decided that was too boring.

Instead, you decided to wander. You got up and made your way to the side door that you knew led out of the training area. You stumbled a little on the uneven gravel as your little legs struggled to keep up with the pace you were trying to run at.

You ended up at a building with a big sign you couldn’t read. All you knew was that it had a red and white cross on it and it reminded you of Switzerland (but the other way around) like where Ana was from. You missed Ana she had moved teams now. Maybe that’s where they were secretly hiding Ana you thought t yourself as you decided to investigate further, pushing the big door open.

When you made it through the door, it did not look like Ana’s Switzerland at all. It looked scary, there were a bunch of weird machines you didn’t understand and you didn’t recognise this place at all. You decided to wander on, in hopes that you’d find something or someone you knew.

Your wish was granted when you came face to face with your Tia Alexia.

“Ay dios mio pequeña what on earth are you doing here?” She questioned frantically, with a concerned look in her eyes.

“Went on a walk” you shrugged

“Where’s your Mamma? Mapi said she was bringing you today”

“She went to the toilet because the baby is in her bladder”

Alexia couldn’t help but laugh at your likely misinterpretation of what Ingrid had presumably told you.

“Ok bebita and did she tell you to go off on a walk on your own whilst she went to the toilet?”

“No” you said staring at your little shoes as to not meet her disappointed look. “Thought it was Switzerland” you sulked

“Switzerland why did you thing that?” She asked, confused.

“Had flag on the door” you replied simply

“What? Ohh no bebé that’s a medical flag like a hospital, it does look like the Switzerland flag though” she chuckled

“This is a hospital?” you said with a look of worry

“No no it’s similar though it’s like a doctor just for the team”

“Mamma goes to a doctor to check the baby! Why are you in the doctor for the team Tia Ale? Do you have baby in your belly too like Mamma?” You questioned eyes wide with surprise.

“No no bebita hahaha I don’t have a baby in my belly. I’m just having a little monthly check on my knee to make sure it’s all good” she smiled at your innocence.

“Oh if you have a baby Tia Ale you can name it after me? You said Olga loved me when I stayed at your house!” You insisted

“Hmm Olga did love you but if we have a baby I think it needs a different name but maybe you can help me pick if that time comes” she bargained

“Okay” you shrugged, that seemed to be enough for your little brain.

“Right enough talking about me having babies” she laughed “let’s get you back to your Mamma I’m sure she’s worried sick” said Alexia, scooping you up into her arms so you couldn’t run off again.

Meanwhile…

Ingrid had just returned from what might have been her 15th bathroom trip of the day because of the baby. She strolled though the changing rooms and was ready to reward your patient behaviour with a snack from your backpack. However, when she reached the field you weren’t sat on your blanket, she glanced around and you weren’t nearby.

Panic started to settle in her as she couldn’t see you anywhere. Watching as the girls started to walk back from training in her direction, she scanned her eyes over them, hoping to find that you’d just wandered off to see Mapi but her prayers weren’t answered as she couldn’t see your small form amongst them. The anxiety had really started to settle in now as she had no idea where you’d gone.

Seconds later the girls were in front of her, Mapi reached for her waist and planted a firm kiss on her lips.

“Hola mi amor and mi bebita” she said rubbing Ingrid’s swollen stomach. “Where’s pequeña?” Questioned the defender, confusion present on her features.

“I’m sorry Mapi I don’t know” Ingrid said as she broke down into tears. “I went to the toilet for a couple minutes because the baby made me need to pee and I didn’t take her with me because she was playing so nicely and now she’s wandered off and I don’t know where too” she explained, tears rolling down her face as she sobbed into Mapi’s shoulder.

“It’s ok she’ll be fine amor, there’s no way for her to leave the compound with out security realising” assured the blonde. “She will be around somewhere and someone will have found her” she insisted

“Yeah yeah you’re right I’m sorry Maps I just feel like such a bad mother I’ve lost our daughter, how am I supposed to look after two of them together” she cried more

The team were gathered around them, with pitiful looks on their faces, no one wanted to interject.

“No Ingrid you are not a bad mother don’t ever say that, you’re just hormonal at the moment ok and she’s going through the terrible twos so she’s being an absolute nightmare at the moment. It’s normal Cariño ok?” She said as she comforted the younger girl by rubbing soothing circles on her back whilst she held her close.

“Ok, te amo Maria”

“Jeg elsker deg princesa. Let’s go find our little monkey” she gestured for the team and jonatan to come with her.

Just as the team were about to split up and attempt to find you, Alexia turned the corner holding a guilty looking you in her arms.

“Oh my God!” yelled Ingrid as she ran in your direction, as fast as she could with the added weight of the baby on her hips.

“gracias a Dios” muttered Maria as she followed after her girlfriend.

“Oh my bebita I’m so glad you’re ok and that Alexia found you!” Exclaimed Ingrid as she cupped your face with her hands.

“Yeah she found me in the medical room which she thought was Switzerland but that’s another story” laughed the blonde midfielder

“Thank you Alexia” said Mapi with a smile.

“jentebaby I told you not to leave your mat and you ran off you could’ve gotten hurt!” scolded Ingrid, which caused you to nuzzle into Tia Alexia’s neck for comfort.

“Amor don’t be so hard on her she’s ok now” insisted Mapi

“No Maria she has to learn that’s not ok!” She said taking you from Alexia’s arms into her own. “Oh bebé I was so worried.”

“Lo siento Mamma I wanted to explore”

“Well don’t explore without me next time please” she insisted

“Ingrid please put her down, you shouldn’t be carrying her with the baby!” Claimed Mapi

“Shush Maria I can carry both of my babies at the same time” she countered, hugging you close to her.

“Fine miss stubborn, God you two are so alike” chuckled Mapi, hugging you both into her.

[julianalvarez9]

pedri doesn't know / gavi

masterlist

request: hi can i please get an Instagram au with gavi where you're Pedro’s younger sister and dating gavi please whatever else can be left up to you

summary: you're getting closer with gavi by the minute, and it shows on social media. but pedri doesn't know (or pretends).

pairing: gavi x pedri's sister!reader

yourusername

Liked by pedri, pablogavi and 401.105 others.

yourusername take-your-kid-to-work day

View all 128.924 comments

pedri it's literally the other way around but ok

pablogavi she's right you act like a kid sometimes

pedri pablogavi you're 2 years younger?

pedri

Liked by yourusername, pablogavi and 994.102 others.

pedri take-your-kid-to-work day

View all 508.606 comments

yourusername hope you dedicated your goal to me 😘

pedri nunca (never)

pablogavi i'll do it next time

yourusername pedri aprende (learn)

pedri pablogavi yourusername ?

pablogavi

Liked by yourusername, fcbarcelona and 971.035 others.

pablogavi cumplo mis promesas. vamos españa! (i keep my promises. let's go spain!)

View all 328.076 comments

yourusername ❤️‍🔥

pablogavi 🥰

pedri cabrón es literalmente mí hermana (mate she's literally my sister)

fcbarcelona 👀👀

yourusername

Liked by yourbff, pablogavi and 302.389 others.

yourusername vamos españa!!! (let's go spain!!!)

View all 128.025 comments

pedri no tienes ni mí remera y tienes la de él? (you don't even have my shirt and you have his?)

yourusername maybe if you gave one to me

barcawags

Liked by 21.035 others.

barcawags gavi and pedri's sister seen together recently 👀

View all 2.106 comments

gavifan1 they're cute

pedrifan1 i'm curious to see pedri's reaction to this 👀

yourusername

Liked by pablogavi, pedri and 502.305 others.

yourusername since y'all wanted to know

View all 198.103 comments

pablogavi no tienes más excusas para no ir a verme 😘 (you have no more excuses for not going to see me 😘)

♥️ liked by creator

pedri me haré el sorprendido (i'll pretend to be surprised)

pablogavi you knew?

pedri you thought i didn't?

yourusername pablogavi sorry 😁

[violetmuses]

Armando Aretas x Detective!Reader 🚔

Tag List: @nelo0wesker @yassbishimvintage @nobodygetsza @peaxhygirl @superstar-t20 @adoresmiles @klssngss @deja-r @hyper-trash-panda @amethyst-loves-bucky 🏷

“Are you sure about this?” You offered that question to Detective Mike Lowrey because previous criminal Armando Aretas entered the Miami Police Department.

“We're giving him another chance.” Mike just told the truth. “He's my son, remember?”

“I know.” You nodded, entering this private room as three chairs took space.

After confirming dozens of red tape to line up Armando's opportunity, Mike scheduled this meeting for all three of you.

His longtime partner and best friend Marcus Burnett already crossed paths.

This afternoon, Mike stood near the wall first, observing you and Aretas.

“Hello.” Despite knowing Armando's history, you remained cordial.

“Hey.” Revealing slightly accented English, Armando wore black regardless of Florida heat that raged outside.

You speak up once more. “I know that you've joined the department, but please don't bother me.”

“Sin promesas, hermosa.” Using his native language of Spanish, Armando dares to flirt with you.

“Oh.” You arched your brow, but still know exactly what Armando means.

“Uh-uh.” Even Mike warned Aretas while standing in the corner.

“Might as well start having some fun while I'm back.” Armando faces Mike. “You can't take a joke?”

Mike walked out the room and you rolled both eyes toward Armando right before leaving.

Here we go. You thought.

[nordschleifes]

chapter thirteen — promesa

➝ charlie feels completely out of place in oviedo, following fernando's first weeks of recovery. however, he makes sure she feels completely at home.

➝ word count: 4,1k

➝ warnings: mentions of smut, insecurity, fernando being absolute down for his girl

➝ author's note: tagging @christianpulisic10, @alonsogirlie, @he-is-the-destined, @sunnytkm23 and @enaticosencantados as requested.

After closing the door to the dryer, Charlie pressed the buttons to start the cycle and glanced out of the laundry room window. The distant lights of Oviedo contrasted with the sky whose orange from sunset was replaced by the black of night. The low sound of the crickets overlapped the noise of the cars passing by on the nearby highway, in a scenario that could be described as the most absolute peace.

However, peace wasn’t what she felt at that moment. 

Charlie sighed as she leaned against the wall. There didn’t seem to be enough hours in the day, even though she was technically on her winter holidays. “And to think that I thought this would be a peaceful trip to Spain,” she thought, running a hand over her face.

Staying with Fernando in Oviedo seemed like it should have been a peaceful retreat on its surface, removed from the hectic circus of travel, races, and lots of people, but chaos followed them all the way back to Fernando’s house. There wasn't a day when the driver didn't have someone over to visit, either for a quick chat or to spend the entire day with him. 

On the first day, they had Fernando's parents over, along with Lorena, Edo and Fernando's nieces, Maria and Bianca. Some of his old schoolmates came over the day after. On the third day, the staff from his museum came over, as well as some Kimoa employees. Over the weekend, some of Fernando’s friends from his karting days came over, then Alberto and Luis. 

The visits and attention made Fernando happy, and Charlie was happy that he had so many people that loved him enough to come and visit, but she couldn’t help but feel a little bit out of place. For one thing, Fernando introduced her to everyone as his girlfriend — even without actually asking for it to be official, which was unforgivable, according to Fernando’s niece Maria — and everyone treated her with kindness and respect, she was still a stranger to them and that was evident by the way they looked at her.

The language barrier was another frustration. Some of them spoke English, albeit with a strong accent, but Fernando was by far the most fluent of any of them, which added to Charlie’s anxiety.

When they spoke in such rapid Spanish together, Charlie figured they weren’t talking about her, but as she walked around the house wearing some of Fernando’s t-shirts with yoga pants, her hair up in a bun with her bangs messier, she couldn’t help but wonder if they were talking about how Fernando could do better or how she was a slob. She could have worn nicer clothing or put on some makeup before they had guests over, but it wasn’t her priority when she was doing so much to keep Fernando comfortable and help him with his recovery.

He was her priority.

— Nena? — Charlie heard Fernando calling from the living room, bringing her back to the present. She took one last look out of the window before she took a deep breath and went to see what Fernando needed. The last time she was out here, Fernando was talking to Alberto and Chiara, Kimoa’s head of production. They seemed to have left, and Fernando was on his feet already, leaning on his crutches.

— Hi, did you need something?

— Can you help me up the stairs? — Fernando asked with a smile.

— Yeah, I can, but wouldn't you rather eat something first?

— No need, I'll come down later if I need to — he said, as he went to the stairs. Charlie didn't question him. After all, after a full day of visitors and a painful physiotherapy session, he must have been tired. He definitely needed the rest.

Charlie helped Fernando up to the second floor and followed after him slowly as he walked into the bedroom, the sound of his crutches echoing through the hallway. Then, she helped Fernando into bed, making sure he was comfortable with the way he was propped up, with his injured leg elevated. She turned to go back downstairs, but he stopped her. 

— Charlie — he murmured, causing her to look back — Please stay.

She smiled softly.

— I want to, but I have to finish doing the laundry.

— You can do that later.

— My darling, I'm already wearing your clothes because I don’t have anything clean anymore — Charlie argued, approaching the bed. Looking at what she was wearing, Fernando smiled broadly.

— I think you look pretty wearing my clothes — he said — Of course, you look best when you’re wearing nothing…

Charlie felt her cheeks heat up.

— You know I can't just walk around naked in front of everyone.

— I know, that’s for my eyes only.

Giving her a smile, she leaned over him and pecked him on the lips before making another attempt to leave the room. However, Fernando held her hand firmly.

 — Stay, nena — Fernando purred — The laundry can wait.

— And you can’t?

— Not when it feels like I've spent a lifetime away from you.

Charlie smiled, giving in to the request. Rounding the bed, she settled down next to him, feeling Fernando's arm pull her into a hug, her head resting just above his heart. The soft sound made her close her eyes momentarily, just to savor that moment of silence and peace, feeling his fingers glide over the fabric of the T-shirt she was wearing.

There were moments when Charlie found it hard to believe that the driver was alive, and in her arms. After the crash, she started having nightmares about it, but they tended to end more tragically than the reality. Last night, she remembered standing in front of his closed casket, draped in the Asturian flag, clutching a single rose in her hand, the thorns cutting into her palm and making blood drip down the stem. Everyone was saying goodbye to him, but she couldn’t. “He's still here”, she thought, gripping the rose, ignoring the blood flowing from her palm.

— I missed you — Fernando said softly, breaking the silence between them.

— We haven't been apart since you came out of surgery.

— But it seems like I'm always far away from you...

— I know, it’s like you've been more in demand than the King of England these last few days — Charlie muttered. Her tone made Fernando shift suddenly, their eyes meeting.

— Are you sad?

The question surprised her, in a way. As much as Charlie tried hard to appear relaxed and happy, she realized at that moment that she felt profoundly alone in Fernando’s house. It wasn't Fernando's fault, after all, he had almost died and what he wanted most was to have the people he loved close by as he recovered from his accident. However, the feeling of being an intruder there was overwhelming, not to mention suffocating.

— Me? — Charlie stammered — Well, I mean, uh, not exactly…

Fernando sighed.

— Charlie, I want you to tell me the truth — he said seriously — You just seem down. Did someone say something to you? Was it one of my colleagues from Kimoa? Or was it my mother? I know she's a little too direct sometimes...

— No, nobody said anything to me — she replied, looking away — Actually, I think that's precisely the problem.

His hand slid to her face, causing Charlie to look back at Fernando’s eyes.

— What do you mean?

— I'm feeling out of place, Fer. I'm feeling like a stranger here, with your family, with your friends. They talk to you in Spanish, they laugh and I don't know what the joke is — Charlie said, feeling embarrassed — Sometimes I think I'm the joke…

— But… Why would you be the joke?

— Because I’m, well... You bring some girl home with you after your accident to these people you’ve known most of your life. I feel like an idiot wearing your clothes, not wearing any makeup, just having my hair up in a bun, making it look like I’m not putting in nearly the amount of effort I should be into being a good partner and a good hostess. So it feels like I’m a stranger, and that I'm a joke.

Fernando kept looking at her, his expression serious.

— You're not a joke, Charlie.

— But…

— First of all, if anyone laughed at you, I would tell them to leave immediately — he said, stroking her face — Secondly, how many times do I have to tell you that you look great in my clothes? I wish you could wear nothing but my clothes for the rest of your life.

— I can't show up to the factory in your overalls, you know that, right?

— I wouldn't mind — Fernando laughed — And lastly, I couldn't be happier and more grateful to have you by my side. This house would be a complete disaster if you weren’t here.

— I'm just doing the basics...

— And that's enough to make me happy. The happiest man in the world, actually — he murmured, before bringing his hand to the back of Charlie's neck and leading her to a slow and peaceful kiss, his fingers caressing her skin lightly.

— I love you — Charlie whispered, her lips brushing his, carrying the promise of more kisses filled with the love that made her chest warm.

— I love you too, nena — Fernando answered softly.

Kissing him again, she felt the driver's touch on her skin like a match that scratched the surface and ignited a hot, powerful flame.

Charlie wanted to burn in Fernando's hands.

Carefully, she slipped a leg over his hips, settling herself over the driver's body. Bringing her hands up to his face, Charlie continued kissing him, feeling his fingers caress the skin of her back, underneath the t-shirt she was wearing.

That instant made Charlie realize how long she had gone without having sex with Fernando. The night in Suzuka was the last time the two of them had allowed themselves such an intimate moment, lulled by the taste of champagne and the afternoon's victory. At that moment, that night seemed like a lifetime ago. And, feeling something tingle under her navel, Charlie was willing to make up for lost time.

— I missed you, you know that? — she murmured. Fernando took one of his hands to her face, allowing her to savor the touch of his palm against her skin, her heart filling with the warmth that only love was capable of providing.

— I missed you too, my love — he replied, before pulling the fabric of the shirt she was wearing, exposing her breasts. Biting her bottom lip, Charlie brought Fernando's hands to her chest, closing her eyes to enjoy that deliciously intimate touch.

With the driver's thumbs brushing lightly over her nipples, a shiver of excitement ran through her body. Her hips moved unconsciously, seeking some stimulus, without success. So, she decided to lead one of Fernando's hands down, implying for him to put his fingers inside her shorts and touch her the way she wanted.

However, instead of a lust-filled comment or the shift of hips that she knew so well, Fernando let out a hiss of pain.

— Fer? — she asked, opening her eyes suddenly — Are you okay? Did I hurt you?

He gave a pained little smile.

— Yeah, no, it’s just — the driver stopped, closing his eyes tightly — My head started to throb. I don't think I can keep going...

Sweeping a hand across his forehead to brush his hair back, Charlie pressed her lips together. She'd been naive enough to think they'd be able to have sex a little over a week after the accident, especially considering the doctor's recommendation to avoid activities that would take a lot of effort on his part because of the concussion.

Rolling off Fernando, Charlie sat on the bed and grabbed the T-shirt she'd discarded on the mattress, pulling it on while she thought about what he could take to ease the pain.

— I’m sorry, nena — she heard him mumble beside her. Turning her face, she raised an eyebrow.

— For what?

— For this.

Charlie chuckled.

— Are you apologizing for not feeling up to having sex with me?

— Yeah.

— You know you don't need to, right?

— But, we've been away from each other for so long and now that we're together, I just can't give you what you want.

Taking his hand, Charlie smiled.

— You talk like I'm with you for your performance in bed and not for who you are — she said.

— I doubt my performance isn't a determining factor — he murmured, eyes squeezed shut as his other hand massaged one of his temples.

— Relevant, not determinant. I can survive without having sex with you.

— No, you couldn't.

— I did, for two months.

The driver smirked.

— I doubt you didn't moan my name on those nights away from me.

Her cheeks flushed, and Charlie felt like an open book in Fernando's hands, who read the pages like no one else. Of course she fantasized about him while they were apart, more times than she could count, wanting her own fingers to become his to reach the spot only he could find inside her.

— So what if I did?

— It just proves that you want me and that I failed you today.

Sliding across the mattress, Charlie sat closer to him, still holding his hand.

— You are recovering from a serious accident, my love. You've suffered a concussion and a fracture and need some time to recover. And it's okay. It's not like you have — she said, looking at the bulge in his pants — Erectile dysfunction or anything like that.

He followed Charlie's gaze before huffing in frustration.

— I hate this — the driver muttered.

— I don’t like it either, but what matters to me is that you’re alive and that you’re recovering  — she replied, giving a little smile — And I'll take care of you every day ‘till you are fully recovered.

They exchanged a long look, which spoke far more than anything they said. But then, a low rumble made Charlie giggle.

— And that means feeding you when your stomach starts to growl — she added.

Fernando brought her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on Charlie's fingers.

— Thank you, mi amor — he said softly.

Charlie went downstairs, already feeling a bit better as she thought about what was in the fridge that she could make for dinner. On her first day in Oviedo, Lorena had taken her shopping and helped her prepare a few meals in advance. It was one of her more useful race season habits that helped her eat regular home-cooked meals instead of relying on Deliveroo while she was at home and didn’t feel like spending all of her time cooking.

Dinner came together quickly, since Charlie imagined that Fernando needed something comforting and she had a beef stew ready, which she liked to eat with dumplings. It was one of her favorite meals, as her grandmother used to make it when she was sad or frustrated about something when she was little. The flavor of the spices together with the softness of the dumplings made all the problems disappear from Charlie's day.

And, in a way, from Fernando’s too.

— This is delicious, nena — he said, still with his mouth full, after a few spoonfuls — Where did you learn to cook this?

— My grandmother taught me — Charlie replied, putting the spoon down on the plate with a smile — Great for those typically English rainy and cold days.

— It would have been great to know that when I was living there — Fernando muttered, taking a bite of a dumpling.

— You just had to date a good English girl instead of spending years going out with those skinny women — she replied, with a teasing little smile on her face — Although, maybe, they were skinny because you don't know how to cook anything.

He feigned outrage, dropping his spoon onto his plate.

— What? I’m a great cook!

— Your tuna omelette is proof that you are not, my love.

— When I'm recovered, I'll show you how good I cook — Fernando replied, before leaning over to poke Charlie in the ribs, tickling her — And I want to see you say they didn't eat because of me.

— Let's see, Captain Canned Tuna — she said, causing him to laugh out loud, the sound filling her with something warm and familiar.

 “This is love”, she concluded, as she picked up the spoon again to finish eating.

The next few days were filled with a strange, almost unnerving calm. There were no friends or relatives of Fernando wanting to see him, just Edo coming by to do his physical therapy. It didn't take long for Charlie to discover that he had told everyone that he wouldn’t be taking any more visitors so he could focus on a complicated recovery process. The decision seemed radical to her, but in a way, Charlie was relieved that she didn't have to play hostess any more.

However, the biggest surprise came early one afternoon, when Fernando appeared in the living room for the first time wearing something other than pajamas.

— Are you going out? — Charlie asked, placing her phone on her lap.

— We are.

— And where are we going?

— You'll see, now go get dressed.

As she drove, following Fernando's instructions, she couldn't shake the feeling of anxiety. At all times, she was looking for some sign of where he was taking her. Until, when going through an entrance, an orange sign revealed where they were.

— Are you taking me to your museum? — she questioned him.

— Surprise — the driver said, smiling.

When Fernando said he had a museum and a circuit, on the way to Milan airport, Charlie had something else in mind, something like a shed or even one of the hangars she had visited as a child with her grandfather. However, what was there was a building with elegant lines, with his signature reproduced in giant form on the facade. As she parked in one of the spaces near the entrance, Charlie couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't dating a normal man.

“I'm dating a national hero”, she thought to herself, as the two approached the reception desk, which was just inside the entrance.

— ¡Fernando! — the woman who was sitting behind the counter said, jumping up — ¡Que bueno verte!

— Buenos días, Isabel, me alegro de verte también.

— Te hemos estado extrañando por aquí, especialmente considerando lo mucho que te gusta pasar tus vacaciones aquí — she said

— Teniendo en cuenta que no son exactamente unas vacaciones, ¿verdad? — he replied, chuckling.

— Es una especie de vacaciones, no lo podemos negar. Por cierto, veo que has traído una visitante...

— Oh, sí, esta es Charlie — Fernando said, turning to her — This is Isabel, she's in charge of welcoming everyone here at the museum.

— It's a pleasure, Charlie — the woman said in heavily accented English.

— The pleasure is mine.

— Did you do what I asked? — he asked.

— Yes, we've closed both the museum and the circuit to you — Isabel replied, causing her to look at the driver a little shocked.

— Excellent — he said, before heading toward the entrance to the exhibit — Come with me, Charlie.

Walking behind him, she waited until they were far enough away before putting a hand on the driver's arm to stop him in the middle of the hall.

— Did you close the museum for us?

— Yes.

— Fernando — she said, in a scolding tone.

— The museum is mine, Charlie. And if I want to close it to show you everything, I'll close it, simple as that.

She didn't have time to answer him before he continued down the hall, crutches clicking on the floor. As she walked behind him, Charlie couldn't stop thinking about how insane the idea of closing the museum to them had been. However, when she finally had a good counter argument for him, Fernando stopped in the doorway of the great hall that housed the main collection.

And for a few seconds Charlie was out of breath.

They were the most different cars, from the different categories he had competed in. There were Toyotas, Ferraris, Renaults and McLarens, plus a multitude of trophies and helmets. Little pieces of an entire career, carefully placed there for admiration. However, Charlie's eyes were not on the objects, but on the man beside her. He was the one who deserved her admiration.

— Amazing — she babbled.

— What? — Fernando asked.

— You. You're amazing, Fer.

— And I thought you were talking about the cars — he chuckled as Charlie moved closer, her fingertips on his cheeks.

— They are incredible, but you are more — she murmured, before placing a delicate kiss on his lips — Much more, my love.

The next hour was dedicated to exploring every corner of the museum, with Fernando telling the stories behind each of the trophies on display, as well as the cars, letting her get into the Hilux he had used during the Dakar and the Toyota LMP2 car in which he had conquered Le Mans. After discussing technical aspects, they were passing the wall of helmets when the driver stopped in front of one of them, the only one whose visor was facing the wall, highlighting the back.

— Is there a problem, my dear?

— No, it's just — Fernando nodded — This is the helmet I made for the race in Suzuka.

Charlie looked at the piece in silence. In a shade of light blue, the design that surrounded the helmet was that of a garden in a style called ukiyo-e. In the back, she knew there was a samurai under a cherry tree, deep in meditation. She'd liked the helmet since the first time she'd seen it, as much as she liked the traditional version better.

— I ordered the design from Horiyasu, a very famous tattoo artist in Japan — Fernando continued — I always really liked his work, but I never had time to tattoo something with him, which is a shame. But the point is that I managed to convince him to make an art for the helmet and he drew the samurai sitting in the garden. But there's one thing I've never told anyone here.

— That is?

— This is not the original helmet.

Charlie blinked.

— No? But…

— It's one of the spares I had. The one I wore in the race is in Lugano.

— Why didn't you bring it here?

— Because it's yours — the driver said.

— Mine?

— It was always yours.

— Fer — she stammered.

— Didn't you notice the pattern of the hakama he's wearing?

Charlie looked at the helmet again, trying to unravel what was drawn. Bringing her face close to the glass, it took her a few seconds to make out what was drawn against the dark green background of the traditional shirt the samurai wore.

— Are these flowers?

— Roses. English roses, Charlie.

Her heart leapt in her chest. Looking at Fernando, she felt her eyes sting with tears.

— You didn't have to…

— Why not? — he asked, balancing on one of the crutches to bring a hand to her face — You are the most amazing person I've ever met, Charlotte. You are the light and color of my days, the person who keeps my feet on the ground and makes me float. My partner. My girlfriend.

— You never officially asked me to be your girlfriend, you know — Charlie smiled.

— It wasn’t enough for Maria to complain about it? — Fernando said, a laugh in his voice.

— She has an important point, my love.

— Do you want me to ask you, officially?

— I do.

He smiled, taking one of her hands.

— Well, Charlotte Elise…

— It's Elaine — she corrected him, laughing.

— You couldn’t have a normal middle name?

— Elaine is normal. By the way, it was my grandmother that chose it.

— Okay, moving on — Fernando said — Charlotte Elaine, do you want to be my girlfriend?

Charlie smiled.

— Of course I do— she replied in a choked voice, before giving the driver a tight hug — It's what I want most in this life, Fernando… um… What is it?

He laughed.

— I don't have a middle name.

— No? So it's just Fernando Alonso?

— Fernando Alonso Díaz. Alonso from my father and Díaz from my mother.

— That’s lame — Charlie muttered.

— I’d rather have two last names than a complicated middle name.

— Elaine isn't complicated — she snapped.

— Charlotte Elaine is complicated.

— It could be worse, my mom wanted it to be Irulan because of a movie she watched when she was pregnant, but my grandparents convinced me that Elaine was less weird.

— Charlotte Irulan Whitlam sounds excellent to me — Fernando said, seeming to stifle a laugh. She slapped his arm playfully.

— You really are a dickhead — Charlie said, before hugging him again.

[360iris]

tu promesa de adorarme | marc spector x reader (ft. steven grant)

This is just a good, fluffy time! The title is a line from the song ‘La Mentira’ by Luis Miguel, and translates to “your promise to worship me” —Although the song is a little sadder than this is 🫢🤭 Thank you for requesting, @welcometostayingawake !!

When he enters the apartment it is blanketed in a blue tinted darkness. The blinds and curtains closed tightly, not allowing even an ounce of light into the space.

The door clicks shut behind him, his keys clinking sharply as they slide into the middle of the ceramic bowl placed by the entrance for easy access.

The old wooden floor boards creak under the weight of his shoes as he proceeds further, making a perfect beeline towards the bed even before his eyes can adjust to the lack of lighting. But sure enough, you were still where he’d left you this morning— one lump, protruding from underneath the dark blue duvet.

Crouching down beside the mattress, Marc extends a hand out to rest atop of your head, the only part of you that poked out from your cotton cocoon.

“We’re home.” He speaks softly, not aiming to alarm you in any way. Only, as he goes to massage your scalp at the root, he’s met with a handful of damp hair.

It’s wholly disconcerting, causing him to turn the bedside lamp on in a prompt, hurried motion. His knuckles bumping against the metal stand a few times before he finally manages to turn it on.

Awarded a warm cone of visibility, he pulls the blanket back to find that you’re sleeping.

He finds you curled into yourself. Dressed in only a white bathrobe with the cheap heating pad you neglected to upgrade from even when you’d had the funds, pressed to your stomach.

“Well that was a bit of a fright, wasn’t it?” Steven remarks, releasing a heavy sigh. Shoulders relaxing as he watches you breathe evenly as you slept, finding the furrowed tilt in your brows quite funny.

“She’s going to be the death of me.“ Marc nods, rolling his eyes from pure exasperation. Running a hand through his hair before adjusting the blanket he’d all but flung off your form in his brief state of panic.

“Oh, I’d hope not. I’d like to live a smidge longer, if that’s okay with you.” Steven remarks pointedly, earning himself a sigh of quiet indignation in response.

Patting down the material, Marc reaches up to smooth your hair again with tentative fingers.

Coaxing you awake as he massaged the strands at the nape of your neck, working his hand through as one would pet a kitten. And distantly, he thinks to himself that you’re not all that far off from being one— especially during weeks like this.

When your eyes finally flutter open, he can’t help but smile at the way you squint from the light.

“We’re home.” He repeats, even though the first time he’d announced himself it’d fallen on deaf ears.

“Hi.” Is all he can get out of you as you’re drawn into a laborious yawn. Though he finds you’re still willing to nuzzle your cheek into his open palm when he moves to cup it.

“Hi.” He greets back unnecessarily, lips pulled into a fond smile. “Do you want to tell me why your hair’s wet?”

“Was cramping really bad all day, thought an epsom salt bath would help.” Your voice is still thick from sleep and he watches amusedly as you attempt to force yourself into full alertness in vain.

”And did it?” He asks, unable to keep himself from pressing a kiss against your forehead.

“Not really.” Comes out a surprised giggle when he dips his head down to kiss your throat. “It’s why I couldn’t bother to dry my hair, or find a change of clothes.”

“Come on, let’s get you sorted out then.” He speaks into the hair at the back your left ear. All but folding himself over you, but you can’t find the wherewithal to care because he’s warm and smells nice, as always.

“No.” You detest weakly, allowing your fingers to tangle in his dark curls. “My stomach hurts and I bleed through every pair of pajama pants I put on. I’m over it! I just want the week to be over with. This is miserable, Marc.”

“Yes.” He mimics, drawing out the vowel to mirror your theatrics. His voice reverberating against your neck as he spoke. “And I didn’t say you had to do it all. I’ll set up the dressing area, have the space heater get it warm so you can dry off. I can’t have you laying around the apartment like a damp rat.”

The laugh that rushes past your lips is abrupt, your hands freeing themselves so you could push him back. “You asshole! Did you really just call me a rat? Really, Marc?” And he’s already wearing a wide grin, like he was expecting this exact reaction.

“Okay, yeah. I love it when my life partner calls me a rodent to my face. It’s not like my skeletal lining is in the process of shedding while my hormones literally rewrite my DNA—”

“Uh, you know. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know a lot about periods, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.” He interrupts, squinting his eyes as he shakes his head. “At all.”

“Whatever!” You yell mid laugh, trying to force yourself to look severe. “You need to stop making me laugh, it’s messing with my cerebral cortex.”

“That’s your brain. Not your stomach, Einstein.” He snorts, rolling his eyes as he moves to stand, giving your thigh a quick pat. “Anyway let’s get to shaking, Ratatouille.”

“His name’s Remy, Einstein!”

“Whatever.” He remarks, heading off, already leaving you better than you were.

[esuemmanuel]

He dejado de creer en las promesas hechas en esos momentos tan llenos de emoción y que nacen de una mente atolondrada por los sentimientos, también he dejado de darle valor a las palabras que me son escritas en la privacidad del secreto, buscando asegurarse de lo intangible y lo abstracto de mi pensamiento. Pero, si en algo creo todavía es en mi andar y en el camino que me he construido; en estas cuatro paredes transparentes al mundo, bajo este techo de tinta oscura y blanca vid... Y no importa cuántas cosas puedan venirme a decir ni a prometer, ya que, al final hablarán los hechos... y esos no se pueden fingir ni corromper con ilusiones insulsas ni emociones que pretenden quedarse sólo en el papel.

I have stopped believing in the promises made in those moments so full of emotion and that are born of a mind stunned by feelings, I have also stopped giving value to the words that are written to me in the privacy of secrecy, seeking to ensure the intangible and the abstract of my thought. But, if I still believe in something, it is in my walk and in the path I have built for myself; in these four walls transparent to the world, under this roof of dark ink and white vine... And no matter how many things they may come to tell me or promise me, since, in the end, the facts will speak... and those cannot be pretended nor corrupted with insipid illusions nor emotions that pretend to remain only on paper.

[laufire]

[more posts about La Promesa that nobody cares about but] APPARENTLY I'm on that level of fandom engagement where you read actors' interviews and. I CANNOT believe Pía's actress joked about Pía and Petra rising Pía's baby together.

I'm still primarily into Cruz & Petra's Rebecca-Mrs. Danvers' vibes but I will admit. THAT is an enemies to lovers co-parents arrangement I could get behind ñalskdfjaf.

[lapseinrecs]

Promesa

By mika (Queenie_97)

On Archive of Our Own (account required)

Status: Complete; Oneshot; 2046 words

The night of his vision, Bruno searches for Julieta. He'll show her what he saw. His older sister surely will know what to do. Julieta is just tired. She can't deal with him tonight.

My thoughts: hey its another fic thAT BROKE MY HEART.

[freya-captain]

siéntase libre de traducir!

Estoy sentado a la mesa junto con los empleados de Jace. Conozco a Erryk, por eso siempre es el primero en recordarme citas como ésta o en ponerme al día sobre la rutina de mi propio marido. Sin embargo, no sé el nombre del secretario ni de nadie sentado en esa mesa.

No hablamos de trabajo, ahora me pregunto por qué, pero ya sé la respuesta. No he hablado de otra cosa. Me da curiosidad ver a todo el mundo hablando de la vida cotidiana, rodeado de una jerga que no entiendo y siempre ensalzando la bondad de Jace como jefe.

Imagino que es un jefe ejemplar. Imagino que está incluso mejor que el abuelo en esa silla. Pero no lo sé.

Le veo subir al pequeño escenario. Observo los detalles de su traje: nuevo y bien cosido. Sus padres están en la otra mesa con sus familiares, no me miran y si lo hacen no sienten la necesidad de llamarme para que me siente con ellos.

Su sonrisa se ilumina desde arriba. Intento parecer alegre. Aunque todavía voy por mi tercera copa de champán, me siento lo bastante tonta como para poner los ojos en blanco ante los aplausos.

Me da las gracias por todo. Hace promesas sólidas. Describe cosas que no entiendo. Hace bromas que me cuesta entender, pero acabo sonriendo al unísono con los demás. Jace hace una pausa, me sonríe y me pongo nerviosa al sentir que las miradas de la sala se desvían hacia mí.

- Quiero dar las gracias a mi marido, Aegon, sé que no podría hacer nada de esto sin ti. Haces que cualquier lugar se sienta como en casa, incluso después de dos años de matrimonio.

Antes de que pueda pensar en otra cosa, suelto una carcajada. Veo que se pone pálido, pero sigue hablando como si no hubiera visto nada. Las miradas se disipan y me pongo en pie.

Ni siquiera se acuerda. Quería sentirme sorprendida, pero me duele, porque en el fondo sabía que él ni siquiera sabe cuántos años llevamos casados. ¿Podrían haber sido dos años una patada? ¿Recuerda siquiera cómo nos casamos? ¿Su familia debe saber que existo?

Quiero gritar: SON TRES AÑOS. LLEVAMOS 5 AÑOS JUNTOS. ¡TODA UNA VIDA Y NO TE ACUERDAS!

Me voy en silencio, sintiendo que me arde la espalda y casi llorando por los susurros ahogados.

Nuestro conductor ya está en la puerta. Me quedo mirando. Como si pudiera entenderlo, empieza a andar y yo le sigo.

- ¿Chocolate, Sr. Aegon? - Me lo ofrece mientras subimos al coche.

- Llévame a casa.

So they are not related (I originally thought Aegon was outcast from the family and the only one who still talks to him is Jace)

I love when Aegon giggles at all inappropriate occasions and ruins everything marvelously.

Thanks for allowing me to put the translation here! (So I could read it again jajajaja)

From amazing anon:

feel free to translate!

I am sitting at the table together with Jace's employees. I know Erryk, so he is always the first to remind me of appointments like this or to update me on my own husband's routine. However, I don't know the name of the secretary or anyone else sitting at that table.

We didn't talk about work, now I wonder why, but I know the answer. I haven't talked about anything else.

I'm curious to see everyone talking about everyday life, surrounded by jargon I don't understand and always extolling Jace's goodness as a boss.

I imagine he is an exemplary boss.

I imagine he's even better than Grandpa in that chair. But I don't know.

I watch him walk up to the small stage.

I look at the details of his suit: new and well stitched. His parents are at the other table with their relatives, they don't look at me and if they do they don't feel the need to call me to sit with them.

His smile lights up from above.

I try to look cheerful. Although I'm still on my third glass of champagne, I feel silly enough to roll my eyes at the applause.

He thanks me for everything. He makes solid promises. He describes things I don't understand. He makes jokes I struggle to understand, but I end up smiling in unison with the others. Jace pauses, smiles at me, and I fidget as I feel the eyes in the room turn to me.

- I want to thank my husband, Aegon, I know I couldn't do any of this without you. You make any place feel like home, even after two years of marriage.

Before I can think of anything else, I burst out laughing. I see him turn pale, but he keeps talking as if he hasn't seen anything. The stares dissipate and I stand up.

He doesn't even remember. I wanted to feel surprised, but it hurts, because deep down I knew he doesn't even know how many years we've been married.

Could two years have been a kick? Does he even remember how we got married? Does his family even know I exist?

I want to scream: IT'S THREE YEARS.

WE'VE BEEN TOGETHER FOR 5 YEARS. A LIFETIME AND YOU DON'T REMEMBER!

I leave silently, feeling my back burning and almost crying from the muffled whispers.

Our driver is already at the door.

I stare at him. As if he can understand, he starts walking and I follow.

- Chocolate, Mr. Aegon? - He offers it to me as we get into the car.

- Take me home.

[wildchildvdm]

“Y ahora estás en mi lista de promesas a olvidar.”

I am planning to tattooing it on my ribs. It comes from my favourite Héroes del Silencio songs “La Chispa Adecuada (Bendecida 3)” song dedicated to Benedetta Mazzini, the daughter of the Italian singer Mina and Enrique Bunbury’s ex girlfriend.

This song reminds me of the very first time I fell in love with someone. I was like 9-10 years old. The boy name was Leonardo. He was the son of my father’s friends and he went to school with me. He was also my best friend at the time. We got each other back, talked a lot, sometimes I thought he also liked me back.

The Spanish song? Because he was Argentinian. Born in Italy but Argentinian by blood.

When we started Middle school we grew up apart and we argued when he knew I was in love with him. His cousin never liked me and he used to bully me. He made me the fool in front of the whole school. It was one of the worst days of my life.

First time I fell in love.

First time my heart was broken.

Months ago I dreamed of him. I dreamed we were talking about the old times as he kissed my forehead. I cried the day after. 11 years later I still think of him. How is he doing. He has a rap career under the pseudonym of El Che. I was crying and smiling listening to his voice again, despite rap not being my thing. I tried to reach for him but not because I want him to be my lover but to be what we were at the start of this whole story: friends.

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

15 year old me thought this was the most romantic song in the world. and he was right.