#that that interview was done the moment he arrived back in England trying to take louise to peters parents

[cazzyf1]

Mon Ami Mate 💔

[tippedbykreider]

it’s all coming back to me | c. kreider (i)

Word Count: 8.2k Warnings: Slow burn, exes to friends to lovers, relationship breakdown, swearing, alcohol mention. Author’s Note: So many of you have been requesting for this to be brought back! The consensus was that you’d rather have it in smaller chunks so I’ll be posting each new part weekly and they’ll come in between 6 & 9k per chapter. Not only is it more manageable for you guys but it also gives me chance to keep writing new content for it 💖 There is a playlist for this fic which I posted separately, it gives a chronological feel for their relationship and their story. This has been a tonne of fun to write so far and I can’t wait to tell the rest of their story. Summary: Chris Kreider x Reader Insert. They say that all good things come to an end, that you can never have too much of a good thing, but when Chris decided to end your relationship you wondered how anything could ever be good again. A chance meeting 9 years later drags up all those feelings you both thought you were done with. Can you work through your hurt and pain to see what it is that Chris is trying to show you? Or are some things better left forgotten? Tagging: @danglesnipecelly - this girl deserves a writing credit on this thing because she’s pushed me to keep going with this and her input and advice has been invaluable. Thank you for all the support on this one, K 💖

*Italics indicates a flashback*

The notion of fresh starts is often something that is associated with the arrival of the New Year. People use the turning of the calendar to turn over a new leaf, to learn a new skill, to challenge themselves to be better than the year before and to let go of all that was and focus on all that will be. There’s something inherently magical about a new beginning, a fresh start; sometimes it’s the excitement of what might lie ahead and other times it’s the comfort in knowing that you can seize the opportunity be whoever you want to be and to reinvent yourself. It’s the line in the sand and the final full stop at the end of the chapter and it’s the anticipation of picking up the pen and writing those first few words on the new page.

For Chris Kreider this feeling wasn’t one that was brought about by the strike of the clock at midnight on New Year’s Eve because while the date on the calendar changed and while he still spent the next couple of weeks dating things with the wrong year just like everybody else, it still often felt like nothing really changed for him. Chris could only feel like the year was truly coming to an end when the first petals of spring exploded like fireworks in a symphony of technicolour blooms and he found himself giving the locker-room clearout interview. That was the end of the year, the full stop, the line and the warmer days and the balmy nights would give him the opportunity to decompress ready for the turning of the page come September when his focus would once again turn back to hockey.

Chris loved New York; that much was undeniably true. He loved the vibrancy of the city but he also loved the way that he could melt into the background or enjoy the feeling of quiet solace his apartment gave him. It was oftentimes a bolthole, an oasis of peace during an otherwise hectic few months between September and May but the end of the hockey season and the arrival of summer had him seeking the cry of gulls on the breath of a gentle breeze and that crisp, purifying sea air that always managed to fill his lungs differently. Rowayton wasn’t far, a little over an hour on a good day but with its coastal Connecticut charm, slower pace and pretty houses, especially the ones that overlooked the water, it was a world away from NYC and exactly what Chris needed to reset and recharge.

It was a Saturday morning in mid-July and for the first time in a long time, longer than Chris could recall, he allowed himself to sleep in. His bedroom window had been open all night and the welcome breeze snaked through the slats in the blinds and carried on it the faintest smell of salt and sunshine. Chris stretched his muscles in big pulls around the bed before he settled on his back and inhaled deeply, the fresh air clearing his mind and filling his body as the last remnants of sleep slipped away on the exhale of breath. Imbued with energy, he climbed out of bed and pulled the blinds all the way up, flooding the bedroom with beautiful incandescence born out of a cloudless sky. He didn’t make his bed though, not yet, because while he had left his room and was padding down the stairs, he had every intention of returning to the still warm sheets to read a chapter or two of the book on his nightstand with a fresh cup of coffee, a cinnamon and raisin bagel, that invigorating coastal air and the oceanscape outside as the soundtrack.

One chapter turned into two and two became three and before Chris knew it, the sun was high in the sky and lunchtime beckoned. It was shaping up to be a beautiful summer day in Rowayton and Chris thought it would be a crying shame to spend his time at home, even if the page-turner he’d held in his hands moments ago seemed incredibly appealing out on the back deck overlooking the water. It was then he decided to take advantage of that gorgeous sunshine, take in the scenery and stretch his legs by going for a walk into town to pick up a few essentials at Rowayton Market. For all it was a small, it contained everything he would need to keep him going for a few more days until he’d finally need to drive into Norwalk to do a more substantial grocery shop, something that he’d admittedly been putting off. The Market also had some of the best baked goods and fresh coffee in the village and if you asked Chris it would be pretty rude to not take advantage – it was right there, after all, and Chris never could say no to a still-warm Danish and Americano.

He walked slower than he usually would, a conscious effort on his part due to the fact that his legs seemed to want to go into an auto-pilot primed for life in New York City. He was in no rush though, he never was whenever he came here and even though it was a route he’d walked hundreds of times before, and one he would walk hundreds more, Chris still wanted to soak in all the pretty trees and shrubs that were nestled in amongst those classical New England style homes, all shingled exteriors and white, gridded windows in soft muted colours that mirrored the coastal landscape of the village. It was a world away from the brick and the concrete and the bright lights of the city and while Chris loved all of those things about New York and loved wandering through the streets of Tribeca and Soho, getting lost in bookstores and hole-in-the-wall cafes, he also loved the sand, shale and stars and those were things that he just couldn’t find in the city that never slept.

There were quite a few people out and about, Chris noted, most of them he recognised as being residents with their friendly smiles and waved greetings, but there were a handful of tourists too; there always was on weekends during the summer. Not that Chris minded, of course, because for all the village was a popular escape for those seeking a break from the metropolitan life of the nearby hub of cities, it never succumbed to the all-too-often inevitability of commercialisation and still managed to hold on to its peaceful charm, despite it not quite being the quaint fishing village it once was back in the days before the Civil War.

It was one of the reasons why Chris found himself retreating here in the summer and not making the trip back home to spend the off-season in Massachusetts. He would go back to Boxford for a couple of weeks, naturally, because family was something that had always been important to Chris and he would never miss an opportunity to spend time with his parents and sister, but if he had the choice between spending his entire summer being bitten to death by mosquitoes back home (his father always did say that they were the town bird, after all) or feeling the gentle kiss of the ocean breeze against his skin, there was no real contest. Rowayton would always win.

The main street through town was busier, which wasn’t exactly unexpected and if anything it only seemed to add to the charm of the village. Chris decided to head straight to the market to pick up his groceries, if only to facilitate the Danish eating in a more timely-fashion. He picked up a basket as he entered and proceeded to add only the essentials he’d need to get him through the next couple of days. He’d pay for his shopping before going to the coffee bar, because trying to pack his reusable grocery bag with a full takeout cup was a mistake he’d made once before and was sure to never repeat again.

With his groceries purchased and bags packed in such a way that the couple of bottles of wine he’d picked up wouldn’t clink together when he walked (it was three to be exact but after seeing the selection of cured meats, cheeses and olives available he thought it’d be a crime if they didn’t find their way into his basket to come home with him, and if there was cheese there had to be wine), Chris made his way to the coffee counter situated near the Market entrance.

*

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d taken a trip away without the company of anyone else but the last couple of months at work had been incredibly stressful, with projects seemingly coming out of your ears and while you knew your mother had been worried by your suggestion of taking off somewhere alone for the weekend, she also knew better than to fight you on something you’d quite clearly already set your mind to. If you were being completely honest, your plans for the first full weekend you’d had off in months would have consisted of not setting foot outside of your apartment or engaging in any kind of unnecessary conversation had you decided to stay home in Hartford, at least this way you’d be getting some fresh air and the sun on your face.

It was just shy of a two hour drive down to Rowayton, which had the dual benefit of being close enough to home that it didn’t feel like a huge trek just to get there, but also being far enough away that you would be a complete stranger in this town and could take the time to decompress and recharge while blending into the background, and the place was pretty to boot. You’d found a little studio Airbnb not too far away in South Norwalk, figuring that you’d only be using it as somewhere to sleep as you’d planned on spending as much of your time as possible being right by that ocean with the wind in your hair and the warm sun on your skin.

That’s how you’d planned on spending your Saturday afternoon, sat on the sand of Bayley Beach with a good book and a cup of coffee. It was set to be a balmy day, with temperatures sitting in the mid-eighties and the last thing you wanted to be doing in the heat was any amount of excessive walking. So with that in mind, you’d spent your morning exploring the village and taking in the sights and sounds. The gentle protest of your stomach told you it was lunchtime before you’d even taken the opportunity to glance down at your watch and a quick Google search pointed you in the direction of somewhere to get that all important cup of coffee and a small bite to eat.

Rowayton Market didn’t look like much from the outside in the sense that it was a little on the petite side, but the reviews were great and the coffee was allegedly some of the best in the village and that was good enough for you. You were greeted with the smell of freshly baked goods and ground coffee, which was welcoming enough before you even saw the bright smile of the girl behind the counter. Your eyes drifted over the selection of pastries, each one more delicious looking than the last and you knew that you were going to have a hard time choosing just one. You knew you’d have to make a decision, though, suddenly aware of the small line that had seemingly materialised right out of thin air behind you and while you were sure that these people were more accustomed to a slower pace of life, the city girl in you, who was so used to living life in the fast lane, didn’t want to keep these good people waiting while you deliberated. You’d go with your usual and that would be that.

Chris’s attention was fixed out of the large glass windows at the front of the shop, watching as people milled in the street and went about their daily business. It was something he quite often did, whether he was here or back home in New York. There was something oddly soothing about watching the world go by, he thought, and occasionally he’d catch something that would quirk his lips up into a smile, like the sight before him now of a rather large gull in the process of committing larceny against what he could only assume was an unsuspecting tourist. Their sandwich was held high above their head while their free hand attempted to shoo the bird away with little success. He chuckled quietly to himself then, not least because the gulls seemed to get more brazen with each year that passed and he was sure that one of these days he’d see someone’s lunch get snatched right out of their hand by the feathered menaces.

Chris had no reason at all to believe as he stood in that line that everything was about to change. Why would he? The day had started like any other. He’d picked up his groceries in this store more times than he could count, he’d waited in a line just like this one for his coffee and Danish and yet, in that moment, something as innocuous as a woman’s voice would bring feelings that he thought he was done with, and memories he thought had strayed out of his mind for good, flooding back to the surface. But it wasn’t just any woman’s voice, no, it wasn’t as detached and neutral as that. It was your voice; a voice he hadn’t heard in nine years and it was something as simple as a coffee order, an order that he now knew to have remained the same since the day you’d first met at Boston College all those years ago, that blew the dam wide open and every word the two of you had ever spoken, from day one to the last thing you ever said to him, came rushing back.

The sound of Chris’s voice calling your name was something you never thought you’d hear out loud again. It was a voice you’d only heard in your dreams for many years after he walked out of your life, but even that had faded beyond memory to where you weren’t a hundred percent certain that you’d be able to remember what it sounded like anymore. And yet, in the middle of a tiny supermarket in Rowayton, you heard him clear as day with his tongue rolling around the syllables of your name with the same fondness, even after all this time and it was like you’d never forgotten the sound at all.

*

Autumn was beginning to make her presence felt in Boston. The palette on campus had shifted from a spectrum of vivid greens to shades of deep russet, amber, ochre and vermillion; but even above the changing leaves, the turning of the calendar brought a slight chill to the air that had you reaching for your jacket on a morning as you left your dorm.

Today was no different. The temperature had dropped again overnight as November creeped ever closer and it was chilly enough that you had to draw your coat tighter around you as you walked across campus towards class. Your brisk pace had bought you enough time to make a stop at the coffee stand just outside of Campion where your first class of the day was being held. There was a decent selection on offer, but it wasn’t enough to sway you from ordering your usual.

You rooted around your backpack for your wallet while the barista prepared your coffee and grabbed you your cinnamon roll, unaware of the new presence to your right, before handing over the money and taking the coffee and pastry bag from the young man’s hands.

“Coffee and cinnamon roll, eh? Now that’s the breakfast of champions.”

You turned your head towards the source of the voice, lips quirking into a small smile at the sight of the stranger beside you who looked to be not much older than you were, incredibly tall and broad for his apparent age but not for his height. He was grinning at you with a fullness that made his eyes crinkle at the corners and gave him a unique kind of softness.

“My mom would disagree,” you replied with a smirk. “If she found out I was having this for breakfast she’d be in her car so fast and dragging my ass back to Hartford.”

He laughed at that, loud and bright with his head tipped back slightly before running a hand through his dark brown hair that was shorter on the sides but had the faintest hint of a curl at the longer strands on top.

“I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

“Oh, I’m definitely not telling her,” you grinned as you swung your backpack over one shoulder. “So looks like you’re sworn to secrecy.”

You studied him for a brief moment, with the way he was still grinning at you and his eyes that seemed to sparkle behind his dark lashes before your brain gently reminded you that you, in fact, had somewhere you needed to be. “Well, I hate to impose a vow of silence on you like some sort of mafia boss and then immediately split but I uh I gotta head to class.”

“No problem at all and hey, your secret is safe with me. In fact, I’ve forgotten already. What were we talking about?”

There it was again, that smile of his that made you want to stay rooted right where you were standing and look at it all day, but class beckoned and so you gave an awkward wave of your hand and a soft laugh before you turned and headed into the building behind you without another glance back. If you had you’d have seen the stranger from the coffee stand watch until you’d disappeared from view, with that smile still on his face.

This little routine of yours would continue over the course of the next few weeks. Every Tuesday morning, at around 8:45am, you’d find yourself stood at that coffee stand outside of Campion to get your coffee and cinnamon roll, and every Tuesday morning, at around 8:46am, the tall stranger would appear beside you with his kind eyes and his bright smile. You’d exchange a ‘hello’ and a friendly grin and you’d laugh more often than not too while you made pleasant small talk before you both said your goodbyes and went to your respective classes, though you would always leave first and he would watch you go until you’d disappeared into the building.

It was mid-November, now, and the campus of Boston College was firmly in autumn’s frigid grasp. The temperatures continued to drop, seemingly overnight, which had you bundled up in your hat and scarf and the trees had shed their branches of leaves, crunching underfoot with the slight frost as you made your way towards Campion. Your hands were shoved deep into your coat pockets to ward off the gnawing chill and you were looking forward to being able to warm them around your coffee cup.

You approached the stand as normal, rooting through your backpack for your wallet ready to order.

“Hey!”

You looked up, your features fixed in a state of mild confusion while you looked for the source of the voice you recognised but couldn’t quite place. It was then you saw him though, all bright eyed and bushy tailed with a medium coffee and pastry bag held up in one of his large hands as if on display. He was grinning at you and cocked his head, beckoning you over with the wordless gesture.

“Hey, yourself,” you smiled as you approached. “What’s this then?” You tilted your head slightly at the items in his hand as he offered them to you.

“Breakfast of champions.”

Your eyebrow quirked as you took the coffee from him before taking a tentative sip, smiling while the warm liquid slid down your throat.

“You got my coffee order right.”

“It wasn’t hard,” he smirked. “You order the same thing every week and if you open that little paper bag I think you’ll find a cinnamon roll in there.”

Sure enough, as you opened the bag you were greeted with the sight of a perfectly formed cinnamon roll and you couldn’t help the grin that sparked at your lips and spread the full width of your face.

“I don’t order the same thing every week.”

“You do,” he replied with a laugh. “Every Tuesday for the last 5 weeks you’ve come to this coffee stand and ordered a medium Americano with half and half and a cinnamon roll and every Tuesday for the last 5 weeks I’ve been meaning to ask you your name.”

Your face flushed warm at that, not only at his words but at the sure little smile he was giving you and the way his eyes were sparkling. In fact, now that you were really looking at him properly, you were knocked back a bit by the perpetual kindness that seemed to rest in them and you couldn’t help but notice how they really were the perfect shade of hazel, like a forest with a deep bark heart surrounded by leaves that were every shade of green. You’d been quiet a little too long though and so you took a settling sip of coffee to give you enough time to find your voice again and tell him your name.

“Nice to meet you,” he smiled as he offered you his hand, which was large and warm as you shook it.

“And who should I thank for the coffee?” you asked.

His smile grew into a grin then, the kind that you’d noticed over the course of the last few weeks that made his eyes crinkle and happiness radiate from him, before simply replying:

“Chris.”

*

“Chris?”

It was as if time had stood still in that little Market in Rowayton, where your surroundings become a still-frame and there’s nothing but static in your ears. You’d often thought about what it would have been like to see him again. Those first couple of years after he’d left Boston College had you imagining all kinds of scenarios, much like the one you were in right now where you’d bump into each other in a supermarket or a pharmacy, anywhere really, but now that you were living it, seeing it, breathing it, there was nothing you could have conjured up in your imagination that would have prepared you for what it would really feel like to see him again. If you were to be completely honest, you were glad that your coffee and cinnamon roll were still on the top of the counter because you were certain that they would have fallen right out of your hands and onto the Market floor.

He abandoned his position in the line then, as if you speaking his name was a call to him, and maybe it was, on some level, but the truth and simplicity of it was that you were suspended in a state of pure disbelief and even in the short time it took for him to close the distance between you both, you were still yet to move and fix your features to something more neutral.

“Hey.”

It was a simple greeting that he gave you and logically you knew that there wasn’t really any tangible meaning behind that single word he spoke and yet there was something about the look in his eyes and the warmth in the smile he gave you.

“It’s been a while.”

“It has,” you replied, finally finding your voice. “You look, you look good.”

It wasn’t a lie either, he did look good. The tall college boy you remembered, who was just a little too slight for his height, had filled out; you could tell that just from the way the fabric of his t-shirt stretched across the broad plains of his chest and strained around his biceps, and he was no longer clean shaven, which was something that had always made him look quite baby-faced. Instead he was sporting a neatly trimmed goatee and while he had kept his hair short on the sides, just like you’d remembered it, it was longer on the top than it had been in college and the curls were sweeping in a way that reminded you of the waves just beyond the Market door. He looked older, yes, which is exactly what you would have expected in the nine years since you’d last seen him but his eyes were still exactly the same, sparkling and full of mischief , yet still soft, perhaps even softer than before on account of the faint lines around them drawn by time’s fair hand.

“So do you,” he grinned. “You cut your hair.”

“I did,” you looked down as your face flushed with warmth, unsure exactly what you were supposed to say to him.

It was something you’d thought about during those imagined scenarios where you’d magically bump into each other again and you’d thought about all of the things that you would say to him. You would tell him about how much you’d cried when he left you behind to live out his boyhood dream and how angry you were that he didn’t want you to be a part of that, how it felt like all the plans you’d ever talked about were nothing more than empty words and how hurt that had made you feel. You felt like you at least deserved that, especially given that it was never just a casual fling between you both. After all, you’d been practically inseparable for two years. You’d been inseparable ever since he’d said those three words that mean so much. But now that he was here in front of you, all those words that had swirled around in your head and in your chest like a hurricane for so long, dissipated into nothing and you found yourself clutching at straws to find something, anything, to say.

Chris could sense this though. Of course he could because he was Chris and he had always been so in tune with you and your emotions and the fact that he was still able to read you so well was both a comfort and a knife in your chest, and while he internally grimaced at the fact he was having to fall back on using small talk between you both, he felt like it was what you needed in the moment. He wouldn’t expect things to go back to how they were after all this time, he couldn’t, and so he started with something simple, something he knew you would be able give him an answer to.

“So, what brings you to sunny Rowayton?”

“I could ask you the same question,” you replied.

“Ah,” Chris grinned, trying to keep the mood light. “See I asked you first and also, I live here so therefore the ‘question answering’ responsibility falls back to you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, at both his words and the silly little expression he was wearing and despite all the years that sat between you both like a void and all of your hurt that was held within it, it all seemed to briefly melt away and in that moment it was like you were back at that little coffee stand outside of Campion.

“I didn’t realise this was an interrogation. Wait is this one of those little weird cult towns? Should I be worried?”

Chris knew by the little smirk you were wearing that you meant no malice behind your words and so he responded by sucking in air through his teeth before speaking again with one of those smiles that went all the way up to his eyes.

“Watch it, Pickle.”

Your stomach fell right into your shoes in that moment, that name he used only for you slipped from his lips like it was the easiest thing in the world for him to do, like he’d never stopped calling you it and like it hadn’t been nine years since you’d last spoke a word to one another. Chris knew all this of course and he didn’t need to rely on intuition either because he could see every emotion written all over your face.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly on the exhale of a breath. “I um.. Force of habit, I guess.”

“It’s okay,” you muttered, not quite meeting his eyes. “Although not exactly ‘habit’, it’s been how long?”

Chris winced at that, the reality of how he left things between you both slapping him in the face and he was filled with the guilt that he’d spent almost a decade pushing out of his chest and shoving into the darkest corner of his memory where he would hope it would rest undisturbed. He knew that you were angry at him for leaving things the way he did, how could you not be? After all, he was the one who had broken your heart and left you in Boston, but it was never as simple as that, even back then there was so much he should have said but that was something he wouldn’t realise until much later when it was too late to repair the damage. The thinly veiled hurt in your eyes and the way your mouth was downturned was demonstrative of that fact.

“I know,” he all but whispered. “It just-“

“It’s fine, Chris. Can we just forget about it? Please?”

He nodded, watching with a quiet kind of sadness on his features as you turned to finally pick your coffee and cinnamon roll up off the counter before he cleared his throat softly to continue speaking.

“You never did say what brought you into town.”

You took a sip of coffee to give yourself long enough to settle the thundering in your chest before answering him, because for all your heart felt like it was about to burst from all the hurt you’d managed to hide away up until now, there was also a weird sense of nostalgia that came with seeing him and hearing his voice again, and even though he’d shattered your heart completely when he decided he no longer wanted you in his life, your mother had raised you right and you knew the proper thing to do was to indulge him in a little small talk, even if for nothing more than old time’s sake.

“Just here for the weekend,” you replied. “Work has been nuts lately and I needed some time away from home.”

Chris shuffled on his feet for a moment as you spoke while his eyes darted between you and the door that would lead to the outside world and the possibility of the two of you parting once more. It was an unexpected pull that he felt in his chest at that thought, you reappearing in his life out of the blue only to slip out of it just as suddenly by doing something as simple as walking out of that supermarket back out into the wide world. For nine years he’d thought about where you were, what you were doing, if you were okay, if you were happy and with each year that passed without seeing your face or hearing your voice, he’d resigned himself to the fact that you were lost to him, drifting out there in the seas of life never to see you again. He didn’t know why you’d suddenly come back to him now, whether by some stroke of luck or twist of fate, although Chris couldn’t have cared less which one it was. All he cared about was the fact that you were here at all and it was an opportunity that he was sure he wasn’t going to waste. He didn’t even know for certain that you would want to give him any of your time after what had happened when he left Boston, but he wanted to at least give you what he should have all those years ago and that was an explanation and an opportunity for you to tell him how his actions had made you feel.

“Hey, what are you up to this afternoon?”

“Not much,” you shrugged. “I was just going to sit on Bayley Beach and enjoy the nice weather.”

“Would you mind some company? No pressure, of course, I understand if you… I understand if you’d rather not want to spend any time with me.”

You exhaled then and Chris’s shoulders visibly sagged, bracing himself for your polite refusal, but your response was not one that he was expecting and truthfully, it wasn’t one that you had expected either.

“Honestly?” you started, getting swept up in the nostalgia of seeing him again before the rational part of your brain could catch up. “That would be nice.”

“Great,” he smiled in what you could see was pure relief. “Do you mind if I grab a coffee before we head out?”

“Sure,” you replied. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

You headed out the door and were sure to stand where Chris could see you, knowing him well enough to realise that he’d be worrying, at least on some level, that you’d slip off into the crowd. You’d never do that to him, of course, even after everything, because while he had broken your heart, he was also the first person you’d ever truly loved and when you’d put the pieces back together, you couldn’t help but keep a part of him wrapped up amongst the tape and string holding those pieces together while you healed. It was in doing that that you understood that he would always have a special place in your heart and honestly? You were kind of okay with that because while the ending hadn’t exactly been perfect, the two years you’d spent together were and you wouldn’t have changed that time for anything.

*

You weren’t sure what exactly had possessed you to let Chris talk you into venturing off campus and out in the early-February snow to get burgers at Eagle’s Deli but you were cursing those sparkling eyes and that roguish grin of his for wearing down your sensibilities as you righted yourself after what felt like the hundredth near-fall. It was slushy underfoot, the kind that’s a twisted ankle or sprained knee waiting to happen and while you’d dressed weather appropriately in your winter boots and heavy parka, you were still very newborn lamb-like in your movements which was amusing Chris to no end.

“Come on, slowpoke,” he called from up ahead as he grinned at you over his shoulder.

“Not all of us can be hockey prodigies and thrive in this kind of inclement weather,” you grumbled, shuffling slowly so as not to slip.

Chris laughed as he came back towards you with confident and purposeful steps, surprising you when he offered his arm for you to loop yours through.

“Now, I’m no expert in geography or meteorology but it snows in Hartford, no?”

He was grinning at you, the kind of grin that you had to fight with every fibre of your being not to reciprocate because you’d already committed to your grumpy act and you couldn’t have him thinking he’d cracked you already, even if he, in fact, had.

“Yes,” you stressed. “But I don’t make a habit of going out in it to get burgers like a crazy person.”

The cackle you received from him in reply was loud and a little wild and you couldn’t help but be completely captivated by the way his cheeks were ruddy from the cold and the snowflakes clinging to the curls on top of his head and long eyelashes. Tuesday morning coffees with him outside of Campion before class had turned into coffees in actual cafes during free periods and getting lunch together. It was even dragging your body out into the cold to the Alumni Stadium with your blanket and your thermos to watch Chris play with the BC Eagles because you couldn’t say no to that damn smile and those damn eyes and even now, as you looked at him taking in the scenery along the Chestnut Hill Reservoir pathway, you knew that they were going to be the death of you.

“It’s really pretty along here,” he spoke, more quietly than before; softer too. “You wouldn’t think we were in the middle of Boston.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice walk,” you agreed before shooting him a smirk and a look. “Would be nice in the spring sunshine too.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, Little Miss Chilly.”

“I don’t know what you have against being warm, Kreider. Warm is good, warm is nice-“

You shrieked as your feet went out from under you, courtesy of a patch of black ice hidden under slushy snow and you squeezed your eyes shut in preparation for the impact of your ass hitting the cold, hard ground. But it never came.

“It’s okay,” Chris spoke reassuringly, one hand tight around your bicep while his other arm was curled around your waist, holding you upright. “I’ve got you.”

You opened your eyes then to be met with Chris’s looking right at you, all moss and bark and warm. He was smiling at you but it was different to the easy grin he usually wore around you, this was softer somehow and all rational thought was replaced by one of those monkeys playing the cymbals. For the briefest of seconds, and for reasons completely unknown to you, the monkey tried to take the wheel and the idea of kissing him right there, in the middle of the pathway that had made an attempt on your life, flashed into your head.

Maybe it was the snow and how perfect and picturesque the scene around you felt? Maybe it was the fact he’d just saved you from slipping? But the reality of it was that those eyes and that smile held some sort of power over you that you couldn’t yet fully understand. You shook your head quickly, if only to take back control of the situation before you did something more embarrassing than almost falling on your ass.

“Thanks,” you muttered as you regained your composure. “This damn pathway.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Chris grinned as he turned so his back was to you and stooped slightly. “Hop on.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“I never joke about piggy-backs,” he replied in a faux solemn tone with the face to match. “Come on, we’ll get you to the Deli in one piece one way or another.”

And that was how you ended up with your arms looped around Chris’s shoulders and his strong hands holding the backs of your legs as he carried you on his back to Eagle’s Deli.

Not twenty minutes later, the pair of you were shuffling into a booth as you shed your coats, gloves and scarves, Chris grinning at you while you blew on your fingers in an attempt to restore warmth into them.

“See, told you I’d get you here in one piece.”

You scoffed at him and shot a playful glance across the table separating you both.

“You’re not human, that is the only explanation for how you’re able to walk in that,” you nodded towards the window where the snow was still falling to illustrate your point before continuing, “and not fall flat on your face.”

“Or my ass,” he added with a grin.

“Hey, that never actually happened!”

Chris’s face split into an even bigger smile at your little protest and the pout that had formed on your lips and while the gentle teasing between you was simply a part of the dynamic of your friendship, Chris would have been lying if he didn’t admit that the reason he did it so often was because you always looked so adorable trying to rebut him.

“No, you’re right. It didn’t,” he mused with a smirk, not needing to remind you that it was him who had come to your rescue judging from the unimpressed look you were throwing his way.

“All I’m saying is that we could’ve just gone to Hillside for lunch.”

“But the burgers here are superior,” he countered, smiling at you. “And you got to enjoy a beautiful walk in the snow with me so who’s the real winner he- mmpf!”

Chris was cut off by your damp mitten hitting his face, brows knitting into a slight frown before laughing at the proud grin you wore at the accuracy of your throw.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he said with mock hurt.

“Maybe I’m not a very nice person.”

“I don’t believe that for one second,” he replied, but there was no teasing in his tone this time, only the kind of sincerity that had your face flushing warm and had you reaching for the menu to hide behind under the pretence of looking at the choices available.

He couldn’t help but smile at the awkwardness with which you were trying and failing to hide from him but soon joined you in picking up a menu and perusing it, despite already knowing what he was going to order.

It was a few moments before the waitress came over and while neither of you spoke the silence between you both wasn’t exactly awkward even though Chris knew there was something about his last words that had had some kind of effect on you. He was right, of course, because despite the fact that you’d had hold of this menu for a good couple of minutes already, you hadn’t actually looked at a single thing on it even though you’d made such a show of doing just that and now that Chris had ordered, a cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate milkshake, the waitress was looking at you expectantly. Unable to form any kind of rational thought under that kind of pressure, you found yourself simply saying “same” and soon enough it was just you and Chris at the table once more.

Chris was looking at you like he had something he wanted to say and the unreadable expression on his face had you feeling somewhat uneasy for reasons you hadn’t quite ascertained but probably understood on some level if you let yourself think about it for more than a second. He could feel the nervous energy radiating from you though and so rather than pursue his current train of thought, he picked a topic of conversation that was much safer and knew you’d be comfortable with: school.

You talked about your classes and upcoming assignments while he listened intently and you returned the favour while he spoke earnestly about hockey and his own academic workload. It was so easy to settle into a natural rhythm with Chris whenever you talked, as if you’d been having conversations like these for years when in fact it had only been a few months of knowing him and a few weeks of meeting up like this. None of that seemed to really matter though, not when the conversation was good and the chemistry felt right and especially not when it was clear that you were both on the same page when it came to your friendship. There was something else there though, something that was beyond being purely platonic, that much was becoming crystal clear and yet despite the ease in which it was to talk to him about literally anything else, there was something that had you stumbling over the thought of bringing it up.

You were saved from falling down that particular rabbit hole by the reappearance of the waitress, two burgers that were big enough to have your eyes popping out of your head in her hands. Chris chuckled from behind his milkshake at the look of disbelief on your face as your burger was set down in front of you before he reached for the bottle of ketchup between you both. You took the top of your burger bun off, nose immediately wrinkling at the sight of four pickle slices resting on top of the lettuce and tomato.

“Ugh, I forgot to ask for no pickles.”

Chris looked up from where he was squirting ketchup onto his bun, his eyes meeting yours briefly as his face split into a grin.

“You’re not one of those people, are you?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled as you began to pick the offensive green menaces off your food and set them at the edge of your plate. “I like what I like.”

Chris reached across and began to transfer the pickles from your plate to his burger, smiling widely at you as he did so.

“Well, I might have found a solution to this particular pickle you find yourself in,” he chuckled at the exaggerated groan and roll of your eyes at the expense of his joke. “You see, I love pickles.”

“You love anything,” you countered. “You’re like a human dumpster.”

“Hurtful,” he replied as he clutched at his chest. “But also true so I’ll allow it.”

You picked up a fry from your plate and threw it at him, immediately filled with equal parts surprise and a strange sense of awe as he reflexively moved and caught it in his mouth.

“You really are a dumpster,” you grinned as you shook your head at the proud little smile he was giving you.

“I am, so how about you don’t ask for no pickles on your burgers and you just give ‘em to me instead?”

It was easy to agree to his proposal, not least because his logic actually made a lot of sense when you thought about it, but mostly because of the way his eyes were sparkling and the way his smile made you feel warm all over, like the falling snow and freezing air outside didn’t exist, like your fingers and toes hadn’t been numbed by the biting cold during your walk here, like there had only ever been sunshine. It was also why you’d agreed to let him carry you back through the snow to your dorm, his large hands hooked around the backs of your thighs and your arms draped over his shoulders much like during the walk to the diner. You’d protested initially, of course, not wanting to burden Chris or put you both at risk of an injury due to the slippery conditions, but he wasn’t about to be convinced otherwise and remained unperturbed by the weather, gently reminding you that he had in fact got you to the diner in one piece in the first instance at your objections.

Truthfully, despite the mild embarrassment you felt at your complete ineptitude when it came to walking on ice, you couldn’t help but be more than a little impressed at Chris’s sheer strength. You wondered then, about how hard he must work in the gym to develop such a strong core because while you knew from first-hand experience how slippery it was underfoot, he didn’t falter once throughout the entire walk home and with the way he was talking amiably about his favourite places in the city he called home, and how his hands were holding your legs so surely and securely, you felt safe as houses with your chest pressed into his back – even with your thick coats and layers of winter clothing between you.

He walked with you on his back right up to the entrance of your dorm, setting you down carefully on the pathway that looked to have been newly shovelled before he turned to face you, his cheeks once again ruddy from the cold and your walk home.

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ twice in one day,” he grinned, sucking air in through his teeth and shaking his head slightly. “But didn’t I say that I’d get you home safely?”

“So what if you were right twice?” you rebutted with a playful nudge. “It’s not like it’s ever gonna happen again.”

“Watch it, Pickle. I’ll have you know that I’m right about a lot of things.”

“Pickle?” you barked out a laugh, watching as Chris walked slowly backwards down the path away from you with that smile still on his face. “What kind of a name is that? I don’t even like pickles.”

“I know,” he called out into the growing distance between you both. “But I do, remember?”

You shook your head at him, chuckling to yourself with a smile on your lips that mirrored his as you watched him.

“See ya Tuesday then, Trash Can!” you hollered.

His raucous cackle cut through the silent flurry as he continued to walk slowly backwards, his grin clear as day even through the falling snowflakes.

“Trash Can! Fucking, Trash Can! Man, you got some serious chirps, Pickle. Can you throw hands too? I mean, I know you suck at keeping your balance on the ice but we could use an enforcer! I could push you around?”

“Anytime, anywhere!” you laughed, watching him with a grin until he had waved his goodbye and turned away before he retreated into the heavy snow.

Part ii

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Chapter 6

A/N  Well, here it is.  The last chapter of Ginger Snap.   As an unplanned fic inspired by a vanity license plate, I’m happy with how it turned out.   There will be a short epilogue posted in the next week or so.  In the meantime,  thank you so much for coming on this unexpected ride with me!   This chapter’s themed title is Fire in the Belly.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

The next five months were some of the most difficult of my life.  

After our talk, Frank and I agreed that it would be best that we parted ways.  The Southside flat was close to the university, plus I’d never truly felt at home there, so it made sense for him to keep it.  Fortunately, we’d never combined our savings and I still had money tucked away from my time as a medical resident in Boston.

Geillis wanted me to move into her sprawling Murrayfield home, at least temporarily, but I knew that I needed a place of my own.  To stand on my own two feet, as it were.   Which was how I found myself moving my few belongings into a modest Morningside walk-up as the rest of Edinburgh celebrated Hogmanay with fireworks and drunken revelry.

I scheduled the written component of my medical licensing exam for February.  This was likely foolhardy, but I’d already wasted enough time.  As a result, almost every waking hour was dedicated to studying.  The flat remained an empty box whose naked beige walls bore witness to my rudimentary existence.

Geillis called regularly, reminding me to eat and to occasionally step outside for a breath of fresh air.  Returning up the high street from one of our weekly coffee dates, a bright flash in a shop window caught my eye.

I stopped and stared as the afternoon sun lit the vase like a shard of stained glass.  It was a profound shade of blue: the colour of a field of indigo, of the night sky in a Byzantine icon, of Jamie’s eyes when he laughed.  It sat on my windowsill, filled with the season’s first daffodils, as I pored over practice exams.

***

“Geillis, I passed!  I fucking passed!”  An elderly woman seated across from me on the bus muttered under her breath about vulgar Sassenachs, but I was too elated to care.

“Of course ye did, ye brilliant disaster.  Now I can brag tae the neighbours I have my own personal physician.”

“Not so fast, Duncan.  I still need to pass the clinical exam, and that’s no small thing.”  My gut twisted just thinking about it, but unlike the written exam, there was little I could do to prepare.  Either I knew how to perform as a doctor or I did not.  The long months since I’d last treated a patient loomed like a large shadow over that question.

“Och, yer bum’s oot the window Claire,” my friend dismissed blithely.  “Ye’re gonna do great.  When do ye head down tae yer homeland, then?”

“May first.”  The practical examination took place in Manchester and needed to be scheduled three months in advance.

“Sounds like ye’ve got some time on yer hands.  Whate’er are ye going tae do with yerself?” Geillis asked in a singsong voice.

Fortunately for me, spring was Edinburgh’s most pleasant season.  Its many gardens and laneways erupted in carpets of buds and blooms.  The air smelled fresh and green, like biting into a tart apple.  I took long walks and fell in love with the city I now called home.  There were secondhand bookstores to explore and a weekly craft market where I gradually amassed an assortment of items that made my flat feel like a home.  With each passing day, my existence felt more and more like a life; one I defined for myself.

I also started to explore my options for employment, hoping for a job offer from one of the city’s hospitals that was conditional upon my successful completion of the licensing process.  It was to that end that I found myself walking down the corridor of The Royal Edinburgh hospital after what I hoped had been a rather successful interview with the deputy director of surgery.

“Claire?”

I recognized her voice immediately.  Before turning around I closed my eyes and sent out a fervent appeal to the universe.

“Jenny, hi.  How are you?”

She looked just the same, her straight black hair such a contrast to her brother.  Next to her stood a man, but not the man I had conjured the moment I heard her voice.  I was unclear whether that meant my prayer had been answered or not.  Seeing my gaze stray, Jenny jumped to introductions.

“This is my husband, Ian.  We’re here fer treatment on his leg.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.”  

“Jes a fitting fer a new prosthetic.  Jenny keeps beatin’ me o’er the head with the old one, ye see.”  I laughed, instantly liking his easy-going manner, so in contrast with Jenny’s intensity.

“Ye must be the Claire I hear sae much about,” he went on, and I wondered what had been said about me in the Fraser household.

“Nothing bad, I hope.”

Ian smiled warmly.  “Only good things, I promise ye.”

“What brings ye tae the hospital, Claire?” Jenny interjected.

I explained how I was in the process of qualifying to practice medicine in Scotland, provided I could pass my exams.  Jenny and Ian were both delighted, congratulating me as though I’d already accomplished my goal.  As we spoke about Wee Jamie’s latest exploits and the ongoing growth of Ginger Snap, I couldn’t help notice that Jenny was staring at my hands.  At my left hand in particular.  Finally, I couldn’t resist temptation any longer.

“And, how is Jamie doing?”  I tried to sound casual, but I was certain my faltering voice betrayed me.

“Very well,” Jenny replied.  “Busy, as ye can imagine, but he thrives on chaos.”

I nodded, trying to be satisfied with the news that he was well.  It was the most I could hope for, really.  Jenny eyed me shrewdly before continuing.

“He’s a good man, my brother.  Any lass would be verra lucky tae have him.  I’d like tae see him settled, but he refuses tae be rushed.  Says the right woman is worth the wait.”  She paused before adding,  “I reckon ye ken wha’ he means.”

“Yes,” I breathed.  “I know exactly what he means.”

***

I took the overnight train from Edinburgh to Manchester.  It meant I was likely to arrive at the testing centre deprived of sleep, but I rationalized that most of my residency could be characterized as one long evaluation under similar conditions, and I hadn’t killed anyone yet.  Still, as the velvety darkness slipped by outside my window, studded by the lights of passing farms, my doubts got the better of me.

I texted Geillis, looking for moral support.  For once she didn’t reply immediately.  There was one other name on my laughably short list of contacts.  I deliberated for all of a minute, but the late hour and creeping panic made me impulsive.

Hello.

Best to start with something innocuous, rather than the slightly more revealing “I miss you.  I think about you every day.”  A reply bubble appeared immediately after I hit send.  At least I hadn’t woken him up.  A small tempest stirred in my gut.

Arsonist.  Hello.  How are you?

I tried to picture him.  Was he at home?  Working late?  Or, in a scenario that played out far too often in my mind, on a date?

I’m alright.  Well, to be honest, I feel like I’m going to puke and cry.  Not necessarily in that order.

Och, lass.  Do you need me to come over?

Damn it, this man.  I had done nothing to deserve his unswerving loyalty but mislead him and then disappear for months on end.  And yet here he was, willing to come to my aid on the flimsy pretext of a late night text.  Guilt and tenderness warred for possession of my heart.

That may prove a bit difficult, Jamie.  I’m on a train to England.

There was a long pause, and then a two letter reply.

Oh.

I realized at once that he’d leapt to the wrong conclusion: that I had left Edinburgh for good.  I rushed to correct the error.

I’m taking the second stage of my examination to practice as a NHS doctor tomorrow.   It’s all hands-on situations, and the licensing facility is in Manchester.

Arsonist, that’s wonderful news!  I’m so proud of you.

I blushed, then leaned my heated cheek against the chilled pane of glass.  It had been a rash impulse, but this conversation was exactly what I needed.  I wasn’t alone in this.  Geillis and Jamie were in my corner.

What has your stomach in a twist, then?

What if I’ve forgotten what to do?!  It’s been almost a year since I’ve so much as used a stethoscope, Jamie.  The exam is eighteen real-life situations and you’re given eight minutes to respond to each one.  Not a second longer.  I’m just...  what if I fail?

And there it was.  The kernel of fear that lived at the heart of everything I did.  What if I failed?   What if my best wasn’t good enough?

Claire, listen to me.  You’re a doctor, just as I am a chef.  It wouldn’t matter if I had not set foot in a kitchen in ten years, I would still remember how to cook, and I know that it’s the same for you.  I believe it with everything in me.

On some level, I knew that he was right.  But it still comforted me tremendously to hear it from someone I trusted.

Alright.  That helps.  I should let you get to bed.  Thank you for talking me off my ledge, Jamie.

Anytime, Arsonist.

As I got ready sign off, another text bubble appeared.

Oh, and Claire?  Don’t burn down their wee laboratory, okay? ;-)

I laughed out loud, muting my phone and reclining my seat.  Outside, the stars shone brightly, tiny fires in the firmament to guide me on my way.

***

It was a lovely late spring day, and the retractable doors to the fire station were open to the warm breeze.  I could hear Angus’ voice as he led a cooking demonstration for a group of young women; a bridal shower by the look of their ridiculous costumes.

“Mind the coriander, lass.  Tis a verra powerful aphrodisiac, ken?  I willna be held responsible if ye canna resist my considerable charms after ye eat yon soup.”

There was an outburst of giggles as I rounded the corner and entered the reception area.  Jenny was on the phone.  She halted mid-sentence when she saw me walk in.  I rubbed my hands down the front of my jeans, trying to stay calm.

“He’s in the storeroom, in the back,” Jenny prompted before I could even offer a greeting.  I smiled gratefully, relieved I didn’t have to make small talk.  I had only so much courage stored in reserve, and I didn’t want to use it all up before reaching my destination.

The storeroom was long and narrow, lit by a single naked bulb and girded with shelves.  Jamie stood with his broad back to the door, his curls absorbing the light like amber.  He had a clipboard in one hand, performing some kind of inventory.

“Jes how many lentils dae ye reckon we need, Janet?  There’s nine cans of them here already, and ye have us ordering ten more.”

I’d almost forgotten how much I loved his voice, the undulating grit and silk of it.  I had to remaster the art of speech before I could reply.

“It’s not Jenny.  It’s me.  Claire.”

He froze, and if it weren’t for the sudden rapid flow of his breath I would have assumed he hadn’t heard me.  My nerves got the better of me and I blurted out, “I like lentils.  You should listen to your sister.”

“Claire.”  More sigh than word.  He slowly turned.  It was when our eyes met that I knew nothing had changed for him.  It was still there, after all these months.  That look that told me I was the map to his journey, the focus to his vision, the reason to his why.  

Hopefully he could read that same certainty on my face.

“I passed my exams,” I began.  “I’m a doctor again.”

“Ye never stopped bein’ a doctor.  This jus’ makes it official.”

“I’m still a disaster in the kitchen,” I continued.  “Last week I ruined two saucepans.”

“Tha’s only a tragedy if ye dinna have someone willin’ tae cook fer ye,” he replied with a strange squinting motion I understood was meant to be a wink.

“I’m still learning who I am.  How to be true to the person on the inside,” I confessed.  This is what had kept me away for so long, worried that I would escape from Frank’s orbit just to be caught up in another.  Jamie never once expected my submission, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t offer it out of habit.

“I’ll let ye in on a secret.  Sae is everyone else,” he replied.

Without realizing it, we’d both been moving until we were crowded together amongst the dried herbs and canned goods.  My hand rested against the solid metronome of his heart.  Just one more confession to go.

“I burn for you in a way I’ve never burned for anything before.”

There.  It was said.  A thousand wings of rapture beat against the cage of my ribs, clamoring to break free.  Jamie carefully pushed a loose curl behind my ear before cupping my jaw.

“Wee arsonist.  Come, set my life on fire.”

[lifeofa-fangirl]

I don’t want you like a best friend

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC

Summary: Taylor Swift causes OFC to put her friendship with Tom on the line

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: A few swear words, a tiny bit of angst maybe? Mostly fluff

A/N: I was stuck on my Damiano David x Reader piece, so I decided to take a break and finally finish this one. I have nothing against Taylor Swift, just used her as a plot piece to move the story along. As always, likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

‘Please come to the BAFTAS with me?’

Lauren scrunched her nose together in slight confusion when a text from her best friend appeared on her phone. The words were simple enough. It was a plea to hang out, similar to the ones where he insisted that he needed to come to Edinburgh again soon. He was constantly begging her to keep the guest room ready, so he could hop on a train and come visit. It had always been too long in his opinion. She never disagreed.

They knew each other a little over a year now and Lauren was still surprised how they’d grown so close so quickly. She always felt like she still hadn’t fully recovered from their first night out together. 

Thinking back at how she’d actually gotten to meet Tom, it still felt like a dream. She still didn’t get how she of all people had gotten lucky enough to win the Omaze raffle that Mark Ruffalo had done. The winner was flown out to LA to hang out with Mark for the weekend and attend the Thor Ragnarok premier. By some lucky strike from the faiths, that had been her. 

She also still didn’t know the exact details of how or why the faiths had written Tom into the story. But the fact was that she had reminded Mark of Tom, he’d introduced the pair, insisting that they would click immediately and they should walk the red carpet together. Lauren still suspected him of setting this up on purpose to distract the press from any spoilers that he would almost definitely be giving away by accident. 

It hadn’t helped Mark much, as he had practically live streamed 20 minutes of the movie, but he hadn’t been wrong on the other front. Lauren had never heard or read a story about Tom that had anything bad to say about him. Charismatic, funny, intelligent and so very kind, was the vibe that clung to him. Lauren had been nervous about meeting him, she believed in never meeting your heroes, and had been scared that he wouldn’t live up to the picture she had painted of him in her mind. But Tom turned out to be exactly as amazing as all the stories deemed him to be. And Lauren had taken an immediate liking to him.

Mark had also been right about the press attention. When Tom had showed up with a date on the red carpet in the first time in forever, the press had had a field day. The constant flashes and questions, all the attention on her, Lauren hadn’t liked it one bit. But Tom had been the perfect gentleman. He constantly had had an arm around her to keep her steady and make her feel safe. He had handled all the questions with patience and grace, never once making her feel uncomfortable. 

And in the end, all the attention had been worth it. They had a lot of fun at the premier, so much that Tom and her had spend most of the reminder of their time in LA hanging out together. As the faiths would have it, they had even been on the same flight back to England, on which he definitely hadn’t boother her up to first class and she definitely hadn’t fallen asleep on his shoulder. 

Lauren had always felt like there could have been something more, but they both had busy lives and had gone their separate ways after the plane had touched ground in London.

They had, however, exchanged phone numbers early on during their stay in LA. To arrange any practical details of whatever they were going to do together of course, no other reason. 

But in the year that followed, the exchange of numbers had led to an almost constant stream of texts. Tom would share snippets of the stuff he was working on, cute pictures of his dog or just something beautiful he had come across on his daily run that he insisted made him think of her. She would vent about the trouble she came across during her shifts in the hospital or send funny pictures of her deeply loved godson.

They had become quick friends, but after twelve months Lauren still wasn’t sure what exactly they had going on. Whether they were bound to stay friends or if there could be something more on the horizon. Every now and then, Tom’s texts would take a flirty turn. But even though she always tried to send a cheeky return, she wasn’t sure what it meant. She knew that, even without realizing he was doing it, Tom tended to be a big flirt with everyone. 

And nothing else had ever happened. She had gone to London a few times, but mostly he came up north to Edinburgh whenever he had the time. She had quickly come to realize he liked how peaceful it was compared to buzzing London. They would hang out in their little cocoon and that was that. 

Every now and then some pap shots would appear of them. Walking Bobby, going for a coffee or grabbing dinner. Friends would always tell her they looked like a couple, the way they stood huddled together, how he had his arm around her lower back or hers was linked through his. But that’s what friends did, right? They hung out together and that’s all there was to it. They were imagining the extra sparkle they claimed to see in his eyes when he was looking at her. Because there was no way Tom was returning the feeling she told everybody she definitely hadn’t developed for him. 

And strangely, most of the time she was content about that. Because she wasn’t seeking any attention and she definitely didn’t want to be known just as ‘Tom’s girlfriend’. And Tom knew that. He respected that and liked it. Because it also meant that in return, with her he could be just Tom, instead of the A-list superstar. They had their own little safe haven together. It was the reason Tom had never asked her to attend an event with her again. And it was the reason she was confused that he was asking her now.

‘Pretty please? Put your loving hand out baby, I’m begging. Begging you.’

Another text brought Lauren back to the present and out of her thoughts. She snorted when she noticed he gave her a taste of her own medicine. Working lyrics into a text or conversation was her specialty, but apparently Tom had taken to drastic measures. She was still confused as to where this was coming from, but also knew she couldn’t say no to Tom, especially not when he was begging. 

“Sure, I guess that could be fun,” she agreed.  She pushed away all thoughts of this being a bad idea and decided to try and just make a fun night of it.

And fun she had. She accompanied Tom to the red carpet, the preshow dinner and the public ceremony. And while she hadn’t expected it, Lauren ended up having a phenomenal time during all of it. She cheered along with Tom when Guillermo De Torro won best director. She got to meet the wonderful Karen Gillan and Tom introduced her to Hugh Laurie, whom she had adored ever since watching Black Adder as a kid.

And she finally found out the actual reason why Tom had begged her to come along with him. Tom had insisted that he’d just wanted her there and wanted to have a good time and that it was time the world got to know the fabulous person Lauren was. But the moment they were on the red carpet and she saw the look on his face when he saw his ex girlfriend step into the spotlight, she knew.

It had been almost 18 months since Tom and Taylor had broken up, but surprisingly it was the first time they attended an event together. Tom managed to give Taylor a polite nod when she passed them, a motion that Taylor didn’t bother to copy. Lauren was suddenly very aware of the cameras around them and she deeply hoped they captured the once over that Taylor gave her, which ended in a look of disgust. Tom certainly had, as Lauren felt his arm slip around her waist to pull her closer to him and felt his lips press a quick kiss on the top of her head. She did her best to ignore the beat her heart skipped.

Things went back to normal, or as normal as the red carpet of an award show could be, after Taylor entered the venue and was out of sight of the cameras. Tom relaxed again, did his best to be his charming self for the interviewers. They enjoyed the show, loved Stephen Fry’s jokes while presenting and overall had fun together. It was a great night. Until Taylor arrived at the after party they were attending.

Much later she would learn that Taylor’s most recent boyfriend had called it quits a day or two before, but the night itself Lauren just knew there would be trouble the moment she spotted Taylor. The singer clearly was more than a little tipsy and despite the loud music, Lauren could almost hear her snarl the moment she spotted Tom, whose arm was hanging loosely around Lauren’s shoulder.

She should have warned Tom, because he hadn’t noticed the singer walk in yet and was happily chatting to the friend besides him. Instead, Lauren felt slightly hypnotized as she watched Taylor. They stared at each other for a moment and in the next, Taylor was walking up to the DJ booth with determination in her step. Lauren watched her greet the man. She shot him a fake smile, gave him a hug and then told him something. The DJ nodded with what looked like a loud laugh and gave her a thumbs up.

As Taylor walked away, Lauren immediately got a bad vibe. She turned her attention to Tom, wanting to inform him about his ex girlfriend just walking in and how she thought she was up to something. But before she could get a word out, the DJ’s voice boomed through the speakers. “Next up we have a request from none other than miss Taylor Swift herself. She asked me to pass along a message. So here it goes: this one is for you, Tom!”

It took a few moments, but when Taylor’s voice sounded through the speakers and she murmured, “No, nothing good ever starts in a getaway car,” all heads in the room seemed to turn in Tom’s direction. 

Lauren was still staring at Taylor, her mouth slightly agape, when she realized Tom’s friends around them had started fussing. She turned around to get a glimpse of Tom’s reaction and found him red-faced and clearly embarrassed. 

Nobody around them seemed sure how to handle the situation and Tom’s face now seemed to drain from all color rather fast. In a split second Lauren decided she needed to distract him and did the first thing that came to mind. She grabbed him by his suit jacket to pull him closer and get his attention and yelled, “Well we’re just a wet dream for the webzine!”

Tom’s face immediately told her the tactic had worked. It scrounged up in confusion. He stared at her for a few long moments and then he yelled back, ”What?”

“It’s a Panic at the Disco song,” Lauren explained, doing her best to be heard over Taylor’s song still blasting through the boxes. Straining her voice, she continued, “It goes: Well we’re just a wet dream for the webzine, make us it, make it hip, make a scene.” She let out a small snort when she realized, “Coincidently the song is called London Beckoned Songs About Money Written By Machines. It continues: Or shrug us off your shoulders don’t approve a single word that we wrote. And then the next verse goes-“

Before Lauren could get out any of the next verse, Tom interrupted her. “You really have a song for every occasion, don’t you?” he wanted to know. He was smiling and seeing him happy again made Lauren’s heart jump more than just a little. She felt so proud she was the reason he was smiling again.

She did her best not to give away what Tom’s reaction was doing to her by simply shrugging in response. “It’s kind of my thing I guess,” she allowed him. Then, not able to help herself, she continued, “As I was saying, in case you are interested, the song continues: just for the record, the weather today is slightly sarcastic with a good chance of A indifference or B disinterest in what the critics say.” 

Her words caused Tom to let out a loud laugh. “You’re more than a bit crazy, you know that?” he told her. But his words didn’t carry any venom to it and his actions confirmed that he was more than happy to have her around: without another word, he pulled her into a hug. “Thank you, love,” he whispered, loud enough for only her to hear.

Lauren’s heart made another jump when she felt Tom press a light kiss against her hair and the smile that was already present on her face only grew wider. ‘Mission accomplished,’ the voice in her head silently confirmed. 

Tom’s smile considerably lifted the mood of the people surrounding them and the rest of the night Lauren and Tom spend dancing with their friends and having a good time. And Lauren couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud about the fact that every time she looked at Taylor from the corner of her eye, she could see her staring at them green with envy.

Quite some time after midnight, Tom and Lauren were both still high on adrenalin from the evening, but the party had started to die down and they too decided to call it a night and drive home. 

Not completely ready to quit the party just yet, Lauren plugged her phone into the sound system and put a playlist of her favorite songs on shuffle.

They had just jammed out to Fleetwood Mac, pulling out their best carpool karaoke moves, when a new song started and a too familiar voice filled the car. “I don’t like your little games, don’t like your tilted stage, the role you made me play -“

“Shit, sorry, sorry!” Lauren grabbed her phone and stopped the song as soon as she heard the first lines, but it was already too late. Tom had obviously recognized Taylor’s voice. The mood in the car went from ecstatic to ice cold in three seconds flat.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tom’s voice was void of emotion, his knuckles were white from tightly gripping the steering wheel and Lauren could easily tell he was angry. She couldn’t blame him either.

“I’m sorry, I really am,” she apologized. She switched to another song in a desperate effort to change the mood again. “I should have thought about this.”

“Well clearly you didn’t,” Tom answered in a flat tone. “I cannot believe you actually have that CD.”

Lauren understood why Tom was mad, of course she did. After tonight she didn’t blame him. But the whole Taylor story had happened before they knew each other. The record came out before they met and started caring about it each other. Back then it had just been good music to Lauren and she hadn’t really cared what the inspiration behind the songs had been. “I got it before we met,” she tried to explain. “Back then I just thought there were some good jams on there, that’s all.”

Tom scoffed. “Well, if you like it so much, maybe you should play Getaway Car again?” 

Lauren was sure a little crack had just appeared in her heart from all the ice in his voice. She blinked a few times in an effort to keep the tears at bay. “You know that song means nothing to me!” 

She cringed at the desperation in her own voice. But it hurt to see him angry at her and she needed Tom to understand that this had been a stupid accident and she would have never played a Taylor song to him on purpose. 

Emotions threatened to overwhelm her. She needed an outlet for them and she almost literally felt her brain to mouth filter short-circuit. And before she realized what was happening, she heard herself say, “Besides, if we are talking about Taylor Swift songs that remind me of you, let me tell you that Getaway Car was never it for me. There’s a whole other song on that album that I link to you. That I can’t get out of my head when I’m with you.”

“And what would that be?” Tom sounded skeptical, as if he couldn’t believe they were having this conversation.

“Dress.”

“Dress?” Lauren could hear the confusion in Tom’s voice. When he briefly glanced over at her, she noticed a frown on his forehead. “Isn’t that the one that is supposedly about Ed Sheeran?”

It seemed like the surprise of Lauren’s confession had calmed Tom down a bit. The effect she had hoped for, but at the same time, it also meant he wanted an explanation. He deserved one. 

Lauren closed her eyes for a few moments and took a deep breath. She realized that this was it. She just ruined their friendship. And she wasn’t sure if it was in the worst or the best way possible. But she did know there was no going back now. 

Another deep breath and there she went, diving of the deep end and changing their friendship forever. “I don’t know. But… earlier tonight you asked me if I have a song for every occasion. And well, I guess that maybe I do. And this is the one I have for every occasion I’ve spend with you.” A small pauze as she figured out how to best continue. “I think… maybe you should just listen to the song.”

Lauren could tell Tom had a hard time dividing his attention between her and the road when she felt the car swirl slightly. The movement only made her nervousness worse. She fumbled with the controls of her phone until she finally found the song. 

Neither of them said anything while the song played and they drove through the darkness. Only when the chorus played for the last time, Lauren somehow, somewhere found the courage to sing along. “Say my name and everything just stops. I don’t want you like a best friend. Only bought this dress so you could take it off, take it off.”

The silence that filled the car after the song stopped was deafening. It felt like the longest couple of minutes in in Lauren’s life. When she risked a glance at Tom, she could tell his grip on the steering wheel had tightened again and he was staring at the road ahead with a blank expression. 

“Are you not going to say anything?” Lauren eventually needed to know. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she needed a reaction from Tom, good or bad.

“I’m trying to find a spot to park this car.” For one fleeting moment Lauren was sure she had ruined everything. Tom was going to stop the car and throw her out. And then he continued, “Because I desperately want to kiss you right now, but I don’t think driving and kissing at the same time is a very good idea.”

And Lauren had never been more grateful than that moment that her superpower was having a fitting song lyric for every occasion. 

[bailey-reaper]

The Lord of the Manor (2)

Summary: continuing on from the first drabble, Barok has returned to the ancestral home in North Devon to recover from the ordeal of being a prosecutor and alleged demigod for the last 5 years. On his first full day back home, he decides to visit his brother in order to pay his respects... Or does he?

Content Warnings: angst + me taking artistic liberties re: the van Zieks family

Barok awoke with the first rays of dawn to the sound of birdsong just outside his window. It was a peaceful change to the sounds of industry that were so commonplace in London. As he laid there, it dawned on him that he had no need to be awake so early; there was no pressing engagement at the Old Bailey or in his office. No meetings. No case files awaiting assessment. No crime scenes to investigate or policemen to interview...

There was nothing at all for him to do.

(I could have a lie in) he thought to himself, but the indulgent idea did not really appeal: why bother sleeping in? If he was awake then it seemed foolish to force his mind and body back to sleep merely because he could. No. Far better to get up and do something productive.

After a few moments of quietly listening to the birds, he threw the covers off and swung himself around to sit up then stand. He made his bed entirely on auto-pilot, forgetting that the ancestral home had ample staff to undertake such chores, and went to the bathroom to wash his face.

Once he was dressed, in a simple poet shirt, comfortable breeches and knee-high riding boots, he decided it was high time to undertake a spot of sword practice to maintain his form and competence with a blade. Thankfully the training grounds were as well-maintained as they had been 5 years prior and it took little time to set up a training dummy. As he focused on his footwork and poise, he couldn’t help but think back to the times that he had trained alongside Klint and the way in which his older brother instructed him.

“Good, little wolf, now watch that you don’t slacken your grip else it will be easy to disarm you. Focus on your footwork, too, lest you be tripped up...”

“Yes brother...” it was difficult to keep all these things in mind while also trying to watch for tells that his brother might offer up during their sparring match. He thought he saw Klint move to strike high, but it was a feint that moved smoothly into a low blow-- he only just caught it in time to block.

Klint grinned broadly, “Well done!”

He smiled to himself at the swell of pride that filled his chest: Klint was proud of him, he’d done well. Now, he wanted to impress him -- so he moved on the offensive in a bid to finally disarm his brother. It had been a long-thwarted goal, but today he wanted to succeed!

“Ha!” the Master of the House laughed as Barok took the initiative, “So you think you’re going to catch me off guard, eh Barok??”

In a blur, his weapon flew from his hands and he found himself being effortlessly wrestled to the floor with a blade at his throat. He looked up at Klint, blinking profusely, barely registering the clatter of his training sword on the floor.

“My win, little brother,” Klint held out his hand for Barok to take, then hauled him up with easy, “I must admit, you caught me quite off guard there!”

“Master!” Harvey’s caught their attention, “I apologise for disrupting your training with the young master, but a letter from London has just arrived. It was sent urgently via courier, so I presume it to be of some importance.”

“Mmm, I see,” Klint looked back to Barok, “Apologies, little wolf, let’s train again soon!”

He nodded, “Yes, brother,” then watched as Klint jogged over to join the butler and make his way toward the main building of the estate.

“. . . .” it took him a moment to realise he was standing just still, looking down at the humble wooden weapon in his hand. How long had he been lost to day dreaming? (To think... I’ll never cross blades with you again.) it was such a small thing, but it took him aback just how much that realisation hurt.

But rather than let himself wallow, he proceeded to resume his training in earnest. Even if he could not spar with Klint again, he could maintain his poise and competence as a means of honouring his brother.

“My Lord,” Harvey called as he drew near, “Forgive the interruption, but Agnes has prepared breakfast.”

Barok wiped under his chin and turned to the butler, “Thank you, Harvey, I shall take breakfast in a moment.”

“Yes, as you say...” the butler cocked his head to the side, “Um... might I be so bold as to ask what you are doing, My Lord?”

“Hm?” he looked up from dismantling the training dummy, “I was going to tidy up.”

“Oh please, do not trouble yourself with that! Allow me to do that while your freshen up for breakfast!”

“. . .” Barok blinked, before relenting with a nod, “... I ... Yes, thank you Harvey, I will go and freshen up then.”

“Very good, My Lord. Oh! By the way, will you be going for a ride later? The weather is supposed to be good today and it’s the perfect season for it. Black Gale is still in her usual spirits and I’m sure she would be pleased of your company.”

“Ah...” it had been too long since he last saw his temperamental mare, Black Gale, “... That sounds like an excellent idea, I think I’ll go and visit her after breakfast and ready her for an afternoon ride.”

“The stable boy would be more than happy to prepare her, My Lord...”

“No,” he shook his head, “I think I owe it to her to have a proper reunion.”

“Yes, as you say My Lord.”

---

After a breakfast of porridge, toast and eggs, Barok went to visit his equine companion.

Black Gale was known to most as a ‘cantankerous old goat born in the body of a horse’, but the van Zieks lordling had always been the exception. Some folks thought it was because Barok was the first thing the foal saw when she was born. Her mother had died giving birth to her, so perhaps Black Gale had decided the boy was her mother. Regardless of the reasons, everyone else had a far tougher time dealing with her.

He opened the barn door and approached her stable pen, “Hello girl, it’s been a while,” Black Gale whinnied and murmured in excited tones as she trotted over and butted her coal black head against his chest. Barok chuckled and patted her muzzle, “I’m glad to see you well and in fine spirits as ever...” the mare made a few conversational murmuring sounds and continued to nudge at him, “Yes yes, I know. I’ve neglected you, forgive me...” he continued to offer placating strokes, “It’s rather presumptuous of me, I know, but would you mind taking me to visit Klint’s grave this afternoon?” he received a contented sigh in reply, no doubt down to being stroked, “... I’ll take that as a yes.”

Once he had indulged her with a few more pets, Barok took to brushing Black Gale’s lustrous coat and checking her shoes. As with the rest of the estate, his mare had been greatly cared for. He laughed when she started chewing on the ruffles of his shirt, “There’s no need for that now,” he softly chided, before producing a handful of oats from a pouch at his hip, “You really do lack subtlety, do you know that?“ she ignored him and gladly chewed on the oats.

Finally, it was time for lunch, “I’ll saddle you up shortly, alright?” he told her as he led her back to her pen and closed the door. Black Gale whinnied a little before trying to chew his shirt some more, “You truly are a hellion!” Barok replied as he de-horsed his clothing and returned to the main building for lunch.

As he ate, he reflected on his intended pursuit that afternoon: he would go to pay his respects to Klint at his grave. It was still such a strange notion -- his vibrant brother, now laying cold and lifeless in his grave... A lump formed in his throat, which he was quick to swallow down. He’d already grieved so much for Klint, but it still seemed his sorrow knew no bounds. Like an endless font or a wound that refused to heal over. It just bled within him endlessly...

“Oh... um... My Lord,” Harvey sounded uneasy.

“What’s wrong, Harvey?” Barok asked as he set down his napkin after lunch, “Has something happened?”

“Um... well... yes... in a manner of speaking... it would appear that Lady Darlington has somehow become aware of your presence here. She’s at the door now, asking to see you.”

Barok groaned and dragged a hand over his face. The last thing he really wanted to do was entertain England’s most notorious gossip. “How on earth did she find out...?” he muttered, more to himself than to the butler, “... I see. Thank you, Harvey, please see her to the parlour... I’ll join momentarily, once I’ve freshened up.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

It seemed visiting Klint would have to wait...

[imperial-martian]

I loved your last headcanon so if you don't mind me requesting another one, Blanc pinning after a journalist who is trying to interview him for a true crime series or some thing that would require them to have more than just a couple of meetings.

— JOURANLISM: benoit blanc x reader

Author’s Note: I got permission from @daft-not-punk to change this into a oneshot!

Trigger Warnings: mention of illness, murder, cases

It had been a sort of cat and mouse chase for months at this point. He’s was always so clever and sneaky, just out of your grasp whenever you went to go speak with him. It was his way of telling you that if you wanted to interview him you’d better work for it. He was amused by your attempts, and you couldn’t lie, you did have fun trying to chase after him only to see him slip around the corner and disappear in the next moment.

It was fun for you because each and every time you got more and more determined to catch him until you finally did. You grinned victoriously as you stared dead-on, catching his startling blue eyes for longer than just a few seconds.

“I think it’s about time we went to share a meal and have a talk, Detective Blanc,” you stated proudly, a look of pure passion burning in your eyes.

He smiled. “You took longer than you did last time we had one of meeting, Y/N. You’re getting slow,” he challenged.

You scoffed and shook your head. “Now now, don’t get cocky, I did just recover from an illness. I’ve passed my prime at this point,” you replied, walking closer to him.

He offered you his arm, leading you to the restaurant across the street. “Now don’t sell yourself short Y/N, you’re still youthful,” he teased, grinning slyly.

You laughed, accepting his arm. “You say that as if you aren’t Blanc,” you smiled and thanked him as he held the door for you.

Blanc winked at you, stepping into the restaurant behind you before stepping up to the host table and informing the hostess that the party only consisted of two. The hostess nodded and lead you to a table near the corner of the restaurant.

“Here you are detective, ma’am,” they nodded before placing the menu’s down and walking away.

You looked up at Blanc before picking up the menu. “You’re well known now, aren’t you?” you asked playfully, looking over the options.

“I suppose so, with the news and all that surrounds me. Not to mention whatever is on social media,” he said, glancing towards you over the menu. You hummed amusingly, smiling at him for a moment before returning your attention to the menu yet again.

Blanc places his down, folding his hands and placing his elbows on the table as he leaned forward, looking at you curiously. He wouldn’t admit it but he missed these meetings. They didn’t happen often since you tended to only write a short article about one of his recent cases and be finished with it, but steadily over time, your visits became more frequent til recently.

When the detective heard you had gotten ill, a nasty flu that lasted at least two weeks, he was adamant about sending you gifts- albeit anonymously -to your door. Flowers, chocolates, even cards which he used a fountain pen for just to make it a little more mysterious. Or dare he say romantic.

He’d been clueless to his feelings towards you, something which he’s never felt before. Feelings of romantic, and even emotional, attraction. When he’d done the research to figure out what it was that he was experiencing he was doubtful of the results. They all spoke about love and infatuation with a person and it didn’t make sense to him. He didn’t except it, until now.

He was finding it harder and harder to ignore it and was steadily accepting that he was in fact interested in you in more than just friendly terms, but he’d rather lie than admit that to you. Blanc was so certain that his feelings weren’t returned, and he’d be devastated if that friendship you had were to be broken because of his personal feelings.

“Benoit!” you exclaimed softly, trying your best not to gain other’s attention. The detective blinked before shaking his head a little and looking at you, his eyes slightly wide.

“Oh, I apologize, I just spaced out there,” he explained, furrowing his brow and looking up as your waiter approached to take your orders. He missed the blush that covered your cheeks due to the fact he was staring at you so intently.

When the waitress walked away after writing down the orders, bowing their head slightly before leaving, Blanc turned to you. “So, what’s this new article you’re writing that involves me?” he asked, smiling at you politely.

You made a sound of realization and took out your notebook and pen, placing it beside you so you could start to write things. “Well, to make up for lost time since my absence the publishers want me to do a much longer article, and I need your help,” you explained.

He hummed. “Well, what’s the article about?” he questioned, removing his coat to get more comfortable.

You cleared your throat. “I’ve been asked to write a true-crime series, almost like a story but I have a page limit. It can only take up ten pages of the news article. The article doesn’t directly involve you, but since your my detective friend I thought you’d come in handy,” you shrugged sheepishly. Benoit smiled. “I have three weeks to write it but I was hoping that over the next two weeks we could meet up semi-regularly before I start. I’m going to need some ideas and I’ll need help understanding certain things, but with your help, I have a feeling I’m going to have a lot of fun with this!” you spoke excitedly, a gleam in your e/c eyes that made Benoit’s heart melt a little.

“You’re lucky that I’ve yet to accept another case,” he responded teasingly, giving you a genuine smile when he saw your smile bright up as you realized he agreed.

You were about to speak again when your drinks arrived and you took a sip at it leisurely, deciding it was best to save your excitement for when you’re by yourself. The next few minutes were spent in comfortable silence as you began to write some things down and Benoit cleaned off his glasses from whatever dust and smudges the lenses gained.

It seemed that within a blink dinner was over and the pleasant conversation you were having was slowly coming to an end. You both simultaneously stood up after Benoit paid for the bill- which you chided him for saying, “I asked you for so much the least I could do was pay” -and threw on your coats, walking towards the exit together.

Benoit’s cans subconsciously glided to the center of your back, leading you across the street carefully. Neither of you could say you were surprised that some reporters still remained at the crime scene that Benoit just finished at- which had happened to be a bank. You were certain that news articles would blow off on your phone in the morning about some rumors that would start about you and the detective, but right now you didn’t mind.

It was time for you to enter your car, waving a Benoit with a smile as you got onto the driver’s seat and buckled in. He waved back, watching as you drove off before he got into his own car, ignoring any reporters that came up to him.

It seemed that the meeting you both shared had ended just as quickly as your dinner had because already two weeks had passed within a flash. Once again you were stood outside in another parking lot at a different restaurant, one which luckily hadn’t been surrounded by reporters.

Benoit was saying goodbye, walking off towards his car when on impulse you called out his name. ‘Well, I can’t back down now,’ you said to yourself.

He turned to you, tilting his head. “Yes?” he questioned, his smooth southern drawl dripping from his tongue.

“I- well -ugh okay, here goes nothing. Would you be apposed to coming over some time? Oh, by coming over I mean to my house...” you paused, “for a, uh, a date?” you questioned in a soft whisper, trying to stop the shaking of your hands by playing with them behind your back.

Benoit stood there, shocked as he looked at you with wide eyes. His ice-blue eyes stood out in the lamplight in the dark, cold New England night. He saw you fiddling and quickly replied before he made you more nervous. “I’d love to darling,” he said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

A relieved breath left your lips and you smiled, walking over to him, and with a shy smile and red blush, leaned up and kissed his cheek. You stood back down on the heel of your shoes and smiled brightly at him. “You have my number, text me when you’re free,” you said before turning back and walking- nearly skipping over -to your car.

Benoit stood there in surprise for a moment, the lingering feeling of your lips still on his cheek. He got his own light pink blush before he was able to recollect himself and enter his car, a grin on his face. He chuckled to himself, ‘I guess those rumors that the reporters came up with may just become a reality,’ he thought to himself.

That night Benoit went home and had the most peaceful sleep he had in what must have been years. You went home and stayed up all night writing as much as you could for an article about a detective, a dog, and another unsolved case.

[anotheronechicagobog]

The Crackship Sails to Molly’s - Hailey Upton x Kim Burgess - Strain

written by @anotheronechicagobog​

Instead of her alarm clock, it was the sound of retching in the bathroom that woke Kim up. She sighed, pinching her brows together. She didn’t need to ask why Hailey didn’t wake her up when she wasn’t feeling well, she’d been dating her long enough to know the answer. She grabbed a glass of water, a ginger ale from the fridge and a hair tie from their dresser. After tying back Hailey’s knotted and sweaty hair she sat on the bathtub next to her, rubbing her back. “Do you think you’re well enough to try some water? A ginger ale? We should get some fluids into you.”

“I’m-”

“And don’t you dare say that you’re ‘fine’.”

“... Let me wash out the taste of vomit in my mouth and then I’ll try the ginger ale.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Hailey, you know that-”

“No, I really just... Thank you. For taking care of me, for loving me, for everything. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ginger ale did not help, nor did the medicine she’d been able to keep down. Her fever spiked, she was so flushed her skin was an irritated pink, she’d gotten dizzy, and she started to hallucinate a talking dog wearing a lion costume. Kim had managed to corral her into the car but nothing, not even Dr. Choi when they got to MED, could calm her down. Her fiance was getting sicker and sicker and nothing was going to be able to quell the panic and fear inside of her. So she sat at Hailey’s beside, curled up in an awful chair, letting her tears flow freely as she cradled the hand of her unconscious soulmate. “Hey, Kim. I got your text. And pizza for you.”

“Pizza, Jay? Really?”

“Hailey would maim me if she found out I didn’t take care of you when she couldn’t. Seriously, we actually made a pact. So eat your food, drink this bottle of water and get ready to be fussed over. She’s gonna make it.”

“How do you know?”

“She’s my best friend, we’ve been through so much together that there’s no other option for me. She’s going to make it, she has to.”

“She has to.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hailey had woken up the next day, but only momentarily. She’d mumbled something about dancing tulips and promptly passed out again. Kim and Jay laughed lightly at her expense, but they were mostly just relieved that she was getting better. Her fever was down and according to Dr. Choi that was really good news. They wouldn’t be able to tell if the dizziness or nausea had dissipated until she woke up, but the fact that she was waking up was amazing. She’d caught a nasty strain of the flu, it was so bad and unusual that the CDC had to get involved. Study her treatment, interview close friends, get samples from Hailey. The works. They were actually starting to get pretty concerned about all the blood tests and tissue samples they needed when Will showed up with an explanation, the strain of flu that Hailey has isn’t from the U.S. so it was slightly different than the strains they’re used to treating, at that point they were just trying to determine where it was from and if they needed to be concerned about an outbreak. 

So Kim and Jay calmed down a bit. They were still worried, but having Will there to decipher all of the doctor speak, it was a little easier. When her fever broke they were approached by one of the CDC doctors who had been observing Hailey’s case. They could both tell from the look on her face that this was not going to be a pleasant conversation. “Detectives Burgess and Halstead, I’m afraid I have bad news. We have determined the origin of the strain that has infected Detective Upton. It’s from England, and it’s a unique strain because it appears to have been formed overtime from a few different strains from different countries, not uncommon in people who travel frequently without adequate vaccinations. We have determined a course of action, but unfortunately might be too late. The antibiotics that she needs need to start being taken within 72 hours. It’s been 61. And the closest antibiotics we could get are in London, England. It’s an eight hour flight and they have to go through customs and the FDA and they just might not get here in time. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. She can’t- Why- No-” Tears were streaming down Kim’s face and she fell back into her chair. “This can’t be happening, we’re supposed to be together, have more time together. More time. Just a little more time, please.” Jay was standing beyond Kim’s chair, watching with a fractured soul as she stroked his best friend’s face and begged her to wake up. When suddenly, it dawned on him. “Dr. Tamara, do the antibiotics have to arrive on a commercial plane?”

“Well, no, but a private plane wouldn’t be faster and would cost a lot more money.”

“What about a military plane?” Hope was starting to creep into his desperate features, and instead of meeting sorrowful silence, he was met with mirroring spirits. “I don’t have those kinds of connections to make that happen, but if you do that would absolutely work.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jay managed to get the antibiotics on a military passenger/cargo flight from London to Chicago, almost halving the time everything would’ve taken. Kim hadn’t stopped hugging and thanking him since he got off the phone with an air force buddy he’d done a couple of operations with while he was in the rangers. The meds had been given with four hours to spare, so now both detectives were just a pile of nerves, antsy to see Hailey open her eyes. “For the last time Kim, you don’t need to thank me. Hailey’s important to me too, okay? I haven’t been holding onto that ring for her for the past four months for nothi- Shit.”

“... Ring?”

“Yes.”

“An engagement ring?”

“Yeah.” Kim turned back to the love of her life, happiness shining through for the first time in days, “you better wake up, Hailey Ann Upton. How am I gonna say ‘yes’ if you don’t even ask me?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hailey woke up, and was lucid. Kim and Jay were trying so hard not to overwhelm her. So when Intelligence and firehouse 51 had stopped by they just smiled gratefully and accepted all of the get-well-soon gifts that were offered and sending everyone on their way. When Jay re-entered the hospital room after accepting a batch of cookies and containers of lasagna from the ever angelic Cindy Hermann, he found Kim and Hailey curled up in bed together. Smiling, whispering and just enjoying being in each other’s arms again. Kim blushed at his chuckles and Hailey grinned sheepishly. “I needed a cuddle from my favourite girl, Jay, what can I say?”

“She gave me her puppy-dog eyes. I had no choice.”

“Yeah,” he looked at Kim meaningfully, implying her to remember their conversation about Hailey’s not-so-secret intentions, “you didn’t really stand a chance.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jay dropped the two women off at their apartment a week later after Hailey had finally been discharged. “Thanks for dropping us off Jay, I appreciate it. And Hailey, you still have to take it easy, I’ll go put your hospital bag away and order some food and after Jay heads out we’ll have a Mamma Mia! Marathon, okay?”

“Alright, well my work here is almost done then.” He was met with two sets of raised eyebrows, so he turned his teasing smirk to his partner. “Someone has to make sure you don’t get up unsupervised while Kim’s in the other room.”

“Smart thinking, Halstead.”

“Hey! I’m capable of taking care of myself.” Kim jogged to the bedroom in a fit of laughter, leaving Hailey and Jay alone for a few moments. Jay leaned his body out to look down the hallway and make sure that Kim was out of earshot before he turned back to Hailey. She looked better than she did before, her pallor was back to normal, her eyes were vibrant, and she was glowing in happiness and relief, though her movements were still lapsed and slow. Jay reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the navy velvet ring box and placed it into her confused but waiting hand. “I accidentally let it slip when you were in the hospital. You should’ve seen her face when she caught on, she loves you. So much, and if these past couple of weeks have taught us anything, it’s that you don’t have the time you think you do. Ask her, she’ll say yes. I guarantee it.” After a one-armed hug with a shocked Hailey, Jay shouted a goodbye to Kim before taking his leave.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They’d finished the first movie and were about to put in the second, but Hailey hadn’t even noticed, she’d spent most of that time staring at Kim.

“Hails? Are you okay? Do I need to call Dr. Tamara?”

“I... I’ve tried writing speeches and planning exactly what to say, but I can’t because you’re too amazing to capture with words. Nothing ever seems good enough. And I have to be honest, I love that, because it means that I love you so much I can’t even fully comprehend it. And I know that you feel the same way, too. Kim, will you marry me?”

Hailey revealed the box from behind her and opened it up to show her the ring. Her heart was hammering in chest so hard and she just couldn’t force her eyes away from Kim’s face and the wistful tears accumulating in her eyes that mixed with the beaming smile she just loved to see.

“Yes!”

[savannah-lim]

You Gotta Be Squidding Me || Savannah & Winn

TIMING: Present LOCATION: Savannah’s office SUMMARY: Savannah meets with Winn to discuss Agent Sterling’s death and gets more truth than she bargained for. CONTENT WARNINGS: Discussion of murder and body horror

Savannah had no idea how she was supposed to put any of this in a report. Dr. Kavanagh had directed her to a gentleman called Winn Woods because she remembered she had seen something in a dream. Great. Excellent detective work, Agent. That doesn’t sound crazy at all. At this point though, Savannah was prepared to try just about anything. The Bureau had supplied her with a small rented office downtown so she at least didn’t have to interview people in a messy hotel room or keep going to the police station. She preferred not to have people looking over her shoulder. The buzz from the door told her Mr. Woods had arrived. Right on time. At least he was punctual. “Come in, have a seat. Would you like coffee or tea or anything?” she asked, closing the door after him.

It was one of those White Crests days where everything felt ominous — gray clouds overhead and a weird chill in the air, both typically foreign to August. Winn’s nightmares the night previous had been plagued with visions of the abomination, of the twisted corpse of Sterling ambling towards him, an inevitable end to what little of his life he’d managed to salvage. It was a wonder he’d managed to sleep. Since that day Sterling had washed up, Ulfric had done his level best to keep the body concealed. But ‘missing’ wasn’t much better than ‘dead’ — especially not where a federal agent was concerned. They’d both known it’d come back to bite them. And while Winn was a fine actor, one gift his mother had left him, there was no masking his unease. Human. Javier Sterling had been so painfully (pitifully?) human — until he hadn’t. Winn would tear his throat out again, spare him the indignity of his body, warped as it was. But that wasn’t the question, was it? “Coffee’s fine,” Winn said, noncommittal. It would give him time to think through a game plan. Smalltalk. He could do smalltalk. “How have you been liking White Crest, Agent Lim?”

“Coffee it is,” Savannah said, brewing a fresh pot. “Although the government doesn’t exactly offer generous funding for amenities, so I can’t promise anything about the quality.” She poured herself a coffee as well. Though she maintained a casual air about her, Savannah was already assessing the young man. His nerves were obvious, but that wasn’t necessarily an indication of guilt. If someone wasn’t nervous about being interviewed by a federal agent, there was something wrong with them. “I like it very well. It’s bizarre, which I find frustrating but also oddly comforting. I’m intrigued by things that are unusual. Something Agent Sterling had in common with me, I’m led to believe.” She handed Winn his coffee. “Did you know him well?”

“I think the first coffee I had was on the Hill. Representatives bring their own coffee, or suffer whatever their interns thought sounded good at the Trader Joe’s on Pennsylvania Ave.” Winn cocked his head. “Don’t know how much time you spent at y’all’s headquarters, or if you’ve always been on-assignment?” He took a sip from his coffee, ignoring the heat dancing across his tongue. Still too hot, but the pain helped to ground him in the moment. He’d dealt with government folks for most of his life. Could Agent Lim be discreet? It wasn’t as if the FBI was known for being bold and brash, not when subtlety could better pave the way to an answer. Winn wished, in that moment, that he had been close to Agent Sterling. Agent Lim’s hints that he’d been investigating the unusual… Could always tackle it the White Crest way, right? “Unusual?” Winn asked, more chipper than was probably wise. “Honestly, I barely knew him. Pointed him in the direction of a shop on Amity, but that was really the last time I ‘spoke’ to him.” Do not joke about Natalia killing Javier. Do not joke about Natalia killing Javier. “I can’t remember ever meeting him in-person, though.” Technically, not a lie.

"The Hill?" Savannah repeated, unsure if she was impressed or actively cringing. "Interesting. You didn't strike me as the political type." He'd struck her as a sort of empty-headed party boy, but then, there were plenty of those in politics too. "I did my training at Quantico, and spent most of my career operating around the New England area." She picked up her own coffee, sipping it. "But this isn't about me. Unless you just want to be impressed by my credentials. I might not have them much longer if I can't solve this case." And the more she looked into it, the more unsolvable it seemed. Winn's name had literally been given to her by someone who said she'd seen it in a dream. "That's interesting," she nodded, "because an anonymous source told me you might know something about his disappearance." 

“Representative Delacour. Or former? Figure she’s still up there; I try not to keep up with politics. I wasn’t up there often, just enough to figure out that there was better coffee in the world.” Winn shrugged, another sip from his own cup. Talking about his mother wasn’t his favorite recreational activity, so he was more than happy to drop the subject. He tried not to flinch at Agent Lim’s suggestion, a frown flickering across his face for just a second. Getting a federal agent involved in whatever was happening in White Crest, getting a human involved in all of this. Was that fair? No. It wasn’t. But less fair was keeping her in the dark, letting her wander into getting herself killed. Or, worse, the same thing happening to her that had happened to her former co-worker. Winn tried to think of how a hunter would describe what happened to Javier, Adam’s talk of mutations and infections coming to mind. Winn couldn’t even be sure that was what it was, but something about it rang true. Javier had changed so suddenly… “How much do you know about Cordyceps, Agent Lim?” Winn said, slowly, not letting even an ounce of fear slip into his voice.

“Well, we’ve got that in common,” Savannah scoffed. She knew just enough to make informed decisions at the voting booth, but when it came down to every single representative, Savannah was pretty clueless. Winn could have made up any name and she wouldn’t have known any better. She narrowed her eyes curiously, wondering where exactly he was going with this. “Cordyceps? Isn’t it a virus or something that affects insects? The thing that makes stuff grow out of their ugly little insect heads?” Fascinating, no doubt, but she had no idea what that had to do with her case. Javier Sterling wasn’t a caterpillar.  

Winn wrinkled his nose at the reminder of what the fungus did to wasps, ants, and others. Planet Earth had been a staple of insomnia-fueled nights over the last half-decade, so Winn knew the metaphor didn’t stretch all the way out. There hadn’t been anything (yet?) to suggest Winn or Ulfric had been infected by Javier. “Fungus, but yeah. They take over the host body and direct it towards a purpose. For Cordyceps, that means gettin’ up somewhere high and poofin’ its spores as far as they can go.” Winn still had more questions than answers, but… Shit, would it be nice to have someone to bounce shit off of. It wasn’t like he was good for anything more than a helpful sniff or slashin’ someone’s throat. “Damn, almost wish you could read my mind. Would make explainin’ this easier.” He drummed his fingers along the arm of the chair. “Agent Lim, I need you to take everything I’m about to say at face value, alright? I won’t lie, not if I can help it, but I’m gonna sound like I’m off my rocker. If you’re not gonna believe me, this ain’t goin’ anywhere productive.”

“Fungus. Right.” Savannah focused on him, eyeing him as he spoke, determined to figure out exactly where this conversation was going. It wasn’t often someone took the lead on her interrogations, but she figured the more talking he did, the more he might slip up and tell her something useful. God, nobody had given her anything useful in weeks… “Alright, I guess now I don’t need to watch National Geographic when I go home.” She chewed the inside of her lip. “People say that sort of thing when they’re about to say something nonsensical,” she sighed. “But nothing in this case has made sense so far, so I suppose let’s start with ridiculous and work backwards.” She gestured vaguely with her hand for him to go ahead. 

Winn almost laughed at the suggestion of nonsensicality. C’mon, Agent Lim. All he was askin’ was for her to believe her co-worker turned into a squid-man hybrid, and spit out a wackadoo language, before tryin’ to kill the werewolf sittin’ in front of her! It all made perfect sense. He groaned, leaning back in the chair. If it wasn’t so close to the new moon… But naw, no werewolfing it up. “I can do ridiculous,” he said, confident. “Javier Sterling washed up one morning while I was fishin’. Took me a minute to realize it was him, ‘cause somethin’ had happened to him. See, your boy had been infected with a— with a virus, if you like. I don’t rightly know what it was, but I can tell you what I saw. Not a fungus, but somethin’ from the ocean. I’d call it a growth, but then I’d have to rationalize the tentacle that wrapped around my arm. And nothing,” Winn wet his lips, “about this is rational.” Winn paused. “I’m not done, but figure that’s a lot to take in. Take, uh, take your time. It only gets weirder.”         

“Fishing.” Savannah scoffed. “Yeah, okay, go on. My co-worker washed up on shore and had a… a what? A weird fungal infection from the ocean? Are you saying it was a natural death?” What exactly was he confessing to? It didn’t make any sense. But then she remembered— “Was there a red-headed man with you?” she asked. “Covered in tattoos? Big beard?” She’d seen it in her dream too. Maybe what Regan had said wasn’t so crazy after all. Except that it was, and this whole thing was absurd. Her superiors were going to laugh her reports right out of the office if she tried to go back to them with this. 

Winn squinted at the perfect recitation of Ulfric’s description. There hadn’t been anyone around that day. As far as Winn knew, only one person even knew of what had happened to Javier Sterling, outside of Ulfric and Winn themselves. There were few explanations and Winn was eager to narrow them down. “Yes,” he said, evenly. “I’m keepin’ his name out of this.” No need to bring in Ulfric. ‘Sides, Ulf was out of town, last he heard. One phone call, and one of them could tell him to stay out of town. Winn had dealt the killing blow, even if Ulfric had made sure that Javier wouldn’t get up. “An anonymous source, huh? That sure is unusual,” he said, tone almost acerbic. “How much do you know, Agent Lim?” Whether she’d intended it or not, Winn’s hackles were raised, and he was just barely stifling the low growl in the bottom of his throat. 

Savannah scribbled down a jumble of notes. Not that she’d have any difficulty remembering this, of course. “I’m not at liberty to reveal my sources,” she said. “And if I tell you what I know, I can’t be sure that whatever you tell me is genuine knowledge that you came to independently.” She sighed. “Would it help if I say I saw it in a dream? Would that be more or less asinine than whatever you wanted to tell me?” She was losing her damn marbles, and she might be about to be threatened by a frat boy. “I hardly know anything, okay? Is that what you want to hear? That’s why I’m asking.” 

A long, long exhale of breath. “A dream?” Winn echoed, urging himself to calm the fuck down. “Naw, that sounds about par for the course… for White Crest, anyway.” Okay, Winner. Rewind. Back to square one. “Like I said, really, I’m happy to help. But so long as you’re withholdin’ your sources — and I get it, I do — I’m goin’ to keep back the name of our ginger friend.” She hardly knew anything. That was good and bad. Technically, Winn could lie his ass off. If he wasn’t a man of his word, he’d take that as an easy out. Funny thing ‘bout bein’ a counselor? It was easier to console folks, to let ‘em know it was alright to feel their own emotions than it was for Winn to get across his point, sometimes. So, an answer. “Agent Javier Sterling is dead,” he said, evenly. “He was dyin’ when he washed up, but I don’t know what got a hold of him. We were tryin’ to help him, and he attacked my friend. I moved quickly, because otherwise my friend would have died. I cut Sterling’s throat open. My friend grabbed a knife and gutted him. It was, I hope, less painful than what the infection would have done to him.” A pause. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Fine,” Savannah sighed. “Don’t tell me who the red-headed man is. I don’t care.” That wasn’t entirely true, but she was primarily concerned with finding out what had happened to Javier. The names of everyone else involved could come later. She froze momentarily when he announced Javier’s death. It wasn’t exactly a surprise. She’d suspected it from the get-go, but there was something chilling about the confirmation. “Right, dying from, um… ocean fungus?” She didn’t mean to sound so cavalier, but the whole thing was so hard to believe. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she’d have dismissed him out of hand. Her eyes widened and she stood up from her chair at his confession. Her body was stiff, her gaze trained upon him, as if he would disappear like a thief in the night if she so much as broke eye contact. “Did you just tell me— you killed Agent Sterling?” Savannah stared at this man, dumbfounded. “I think I’m supposed to arrest you for manslaughter,” she said, but somehow, she didn’t. She didn’t even move.

“Oh. The fungus was a metaphor. Probably more like an ocean… demon? Honestly, I was real close to dyin’ last month, so I haven’t had time to do any ‘investigating.’” Winn swung his legs up under him, crossed, and cocked his head. His body was loose. There’d be plenty of time for him to agonize over his decisions in whichever afterlife he ended up in, but this one? No. “I mean no disrespect here, Agent Lim, but d’you really think those charges’d hold up? C’mon, you’re smarter than that.” Winn hummed, taking another sip of his coffee. “I wouldn’t be convicted by any human court. The marks on Agent Sterling’s neck,” Winn raised his hand, eyeing it with faux-disinterest, “were made by claws, for one. I was actin’ in self-defense, like I said, for the other — which is, unless Maine’s laws are weird as fuck, I’m pretty sure’ll get me out without gettin’ charged. And for a third, I’d argue,” Winn sighed, “that I’m not the one who killed Agent Javier Sterling. I killed a monster using his body for somethin’. For what, I really don’t know.” Winn’s gaze turned hard. “And none of that’s goin’ to matter, ‘cause no one would believe a word either of us said.”

Savannah didn’t believe in ocean demons. Why would she? Ocean cordyceps had been hard enough to wrap her head around. This nice, respectful young man had just confessed to her as if it was just another damn August afternoon. Nothing to see here, folks. White Crest was the most bizarre place she’d ever experienced. “No, no, I don’t think they’d hold up. Where’s the evidence? Is there a body? A murder weapon? Or did you dispose of all that too?” She scoffed. Maybe she could get him on destruction of evidence, of covering up Javier’s death, but even that was a long shot. Yes, it would be her word against his, but since her story made no damn sense either, it was going to be tough to do anything at all. “I don’t know if I even believe you,” she said firmly, like that would give her some kind of one-up on him. “There is no such thing as people-possessing ocean monsters,” she said. This whole town seemed as if it was playing one huge joke on her. She folded her arms across her chest. “Take me to his body.”

Winn was quiet while Savannah ran through her litany of questions. There were only so many ways to bust open a mind, let someone know the world was much, much bigger than they imagined. Unfortunately for Agent Lim, Winn hadn’t had to explain himself — or the supernatural world at large — to a garden variety human in, uh, ever. But leading with Javier’s death had been the only option, right? Otherwise, what, shift in front of her? Naw, too dangerous, and he didn’t have spare clothes on him. “Thing about the truth? You don’t have to believe me. As for a body? Doubt it’s there, anymore. Enough flesh-eating things in our rivers that the corpse was destined to get snacked on. But, look, I get it. Evidence.” As much as he loathed to admit it, another journey through his memories could be the easiest solution here. It’d take time, time that Agent Lim didn’t necessarily have. “I want answers, same as you. But it might take some doin’, and it’s gonna require you to trust me. Trust that I want to—” fight? destroy? “—bring to justice whatever hurt Agent Sterling. I said before, I won’t lie to you. And I might be able to give you something to work with. Teamwork’d be better than workin’ against each other, right?” Winn stood, holding out his hand. 

Savannah's head was spinning. There was so much sincerity in the man before her. He was just honest, kind even. She wanted to scream, as if yelling would make all this go away, somehow make it easier to digest. She could yell over and over that this wasn't true, but she somehow felt the reality of it, no matter what kind of scepticism she might have wanted to win out, somehow she just knew that Winn was telling the truth. "You know this is the fucking weirdest buddy cop duo ever," she sighed, but extended her hand to his. "I'm going to need a drink." 

[itsmassivecollectionpatrolus]

Life under Fire: The Wages of Apostasy

(Presented at the Eleventh IHR Conference, October 1992.)

Thank you, United States, for letting me come and speak. I mean that seriously because the fight is now getting quite creepy. For two years now, in country after country, I have been conducting this international Campaign for Real History. During this period, in country after country, I’ve come up against an international campaign against real history — an international campaign full of lies, an international campaign to suppress the truth. The truth of this campaign is quite clearly something that I had previously not wanted to believe: there is, in fact, an international force out there with an influence that transcs frontiers. Day after day, country after country, month after month, I come up against this international force.

 In my apartment in London, I’ve accordingly opened a file titled “Jewish Harassment.” This should not be taken to mean, in the slightest, that I am anti-Jewish, because I’m not. The fact that many Jews are anti-Irving does not mean to say that I am anti-Jewish. There’s no paradox in that statement. Week after week, month after month, they are causing me immense harassment, embarrassment and distress. But journalists come to me, again and again, and ask me: “Mr. Irving, are you anti-Semitic?” And I reply, “Not yet.”

 For two years now, I have been the target of this worldwide campaign — in Germany, France, Spain, South Africa, the United States, Canada, Argentina, Brazil, and England. Let me tell you a little about what has been happening in some of these countries.

 In Germany, I’m now technically a prohibited person. I can’t go there because the German authorities have ordained that David Irving shall no longer cross their frontier. A free democracy, and yet that’s the only way they can fight against me: by forbidding me to come in. That edict was issued in March 1990. But since then, I’ve been in and out of Germany 60 times. I’m not going to tell you how I’ve done it — but there are ways of doing it.

 In Austria, there’s an arrest warrant out against me, but no entry prohibition (whereas in Germany there’s the entry prohibition but no arrest warrant). So between the two of them you can find a way of getting in. As I said to the Germans the last time I spoke to a mass meeting of 7,000 people in Passau: there are enough people here in plain clothes taking notes for the Ministry of the Interior, and tonight they’ll be asked: how did he get in again? To this I can only say: “Go ask your colleagues in Austria how David Irving got in this time.”

 Banned in South Africa

 Besides Germany and Austria, officially I am not permitted to get into Italy or South Africa. Last January and February, I spoke for two months in South Africa, this time visiting 15 towns and cities. Two weeks after I returned to England, a letter arrived from the South African government in Pretoria. It told me: “Mr. Irving, as an Englishman you normally do not require a visa to enter South African territories. For you we are going to make an exception.” I reported this ban to the South African newspapers, which discovered in a matter of days that this unique embargo was being placed on me by the South African government at the request of South African Jewish organizations. This was followed by an outcry by other South Africans who wanted to hear me on radio and television, and in person. It was another encroachment on freedom of speech.

 Of course, I am able to come and speak here in the United States because you have something very important, your First Ammendment guaranteeing freedom of speech. It is very unlikely, I think, that the United States government would actually stoop to trying to prevent me from coming here to speak. It would be a very, very serious day indeed if that should happen.

 In Canada, I have a big speaking tour lined up that is due to start on October the 26th. Yesterday, here in this very hotel [in Irvine, Califronia], I was handed an express letter from the Canadian government informing me that I would not be allowed to enter Canada. Once again, pressure has been exerted by these international groups to keep me from speaking. In this case it was the Simon Wiesenthal Center in Los Angeles, but the reason given me was this: “Mr. Irving, under the immigration act, a person is not permitted to enter if he has committed a criminal offense in another country, or if he is likely to commit a criminal offense in Canada. We may consider you likely to commit a criminal offense.”

 After receiving this, I straight away instructed my attorney in Canada to point out that I’ve been to Canada some 30 times since 1965, and not once have I committed a criminal offense. So, prima facie, I am unlikely to commit a criminal offense on the 31st occasion. [On October 26, Irving legally entered Canada. He was illegally arrested — after lecturing on freedom of speech — at Victoria, B.C., and deported on November 13 after a three week court battle. He is appealing.]

 Detention in Rome

 In June of this year, I went to Italy. I arrived in Rome, after a stop in Munich, from Moscow, where I had been working for two weeks in the former Soviet government’s secret state archives. As I got off the plane in Rome, six Carabinieri police cars were waiting for me at the airfield, and as I got into the airport bus, the police stormed the bus, rifles drawn, and called out my name, “Mr. Irving.” Ladies and gentlemen, now that’s embarrassing! Under the circumstances, I tried to make it look as if this was my VIP escort!

 They held me there in the police station at Rome’s airport for four hours until the plane turned round and flew back to Munich. And half way through, they let in the Italian student who had arrived to meet me there. (I had been invited by a university professor.)

 During the police interrogation, I “hadn’t understood” a word of Italian, and I made them speak English to me. But when the students came in, I spoke with them in Italian, explaining how sorry I was. Seeing this, the police colonel became very indignant and said: “Silenzio, Don’t Speak.” So I said, “Where does it say that I can’t speak?” He repeated, “Silenzio, Don’t-a speaka.” And I repeated: “Excuse me, but nowhere do I see a sign that says Silenzio.” At that, he seized a thick felt- tip pen, and in a blind, Italian temper he went to the magnificently painted wall inside this beautiful, brand new police station, saying “You can’t-a see-a? Here!,” and wrote the letters S I L E N Z I O on the wall, and then shouted: “Silenzio!”

 Last October [1991], I spoke in Argentina. On the morning of the first day, I took part in a two-hour television program. (I also speak Spanish.) I was on with a man named Maurizio Maro, but whose real name turned out to be Goldfarb. If only they had told me beforehand! But too late.

 Goldfarb asked me questions like: “But Adolf Hitler, he was crazy wasn’t he?” And I said: “No, he wasn’t.” “But of course he was crazy,” he retorted. I responded by saying:

     There’s no evidence for that at all. The evidence is that we — the British and Americans — captured seven of Hitler’s doctors. We interrogated all seven of them on that specific point: Hitler’s own physicians were asked if they considered him clinically sane or out of his mind. All of them came to the conclusion that, even until the very last moments of his life, he was totally sane. And not only that, I have personally found Hitler’s medical diaries — the diaries kept by his doctor, Theodor Morrell, which I found in the archives in Washington, DC. After transcribing them, I published them. These diaries also confirm, without a doubt at all, that Hitler was perfectly sane and physically normal.

 Now considerably agitated, Goldfarb responded: “But the man must be totally crazy because he killed forty million human beings.” The first time he threw out this figure, I let it pass, but the second time round, I stopped him, saying: “Forty million? Excuse me, where does this figure come from then?” Goldfarb then said: “A person who kills even one man is a criminal.” In this case, then, I said, President Bush is a major criminal because of the damage he did in the Gulf War this very February.

 At this point, the interview was dramatically cut short. And the very next day, all the other interviews that had been lined up by my publisher in Argentina were cancelled. Newspaper and television interviews, and a Belgrano University appearance — all were cancelled. It was an object lesson on the influence that certain people have. The day after that (October 18, 1991), a major daily newspaper, La Nación, published a communique issued by Argentina’s Jewish governing agency, with a headline calling me an “International Agitator.” Well, I’m sorry that the Jews get so easily agitated. But it’s not my fault. My job is to go there and lecture on the historical truth as I see it.

 The Right to be Wrong

 I admit that we may be wrong. Each of us in this room may be wrong on this or that matter. But I demand the Right to be Wrong! That is the essence of freedom of speech in any country.

 No one is going to define for us what the received version of history is or should be. But that is what they are trying to do now in Germany, and all around the world.

 Every other aspect of world history is open to debate and dispute — except one. Anyone who challenges this one aspect of history is automatically, ipso facto, described as an anti-Semite. Jewish leaders are now saying that anyone who questions any aspect of the Holocaust is an anti-Semite. Of course, that’s not true. We are just lovers of the truth, and determined to get to the bottom of what actually did and did not happen.

 I do not insist that what I tell you here today is necessarily the only version of the truth, and that thou shalt have no other truth than this. I’m not as arrogant as that. I do say that this is the best that I can do, given limited resources, and against the harassment that I’ve come up against in the last few years.

 That harassment has gotten worse and worse, particularly with the recent Focal Point publication of the new edition of Hitler’s War. This new edition contains material never seen before. If you want to see a photograph showing what it looks like when 17,500 people are killed in 30 minutes, here it is. Everyone’s heard about Hiroshima and Dresden, but no one knows about what happened in Pforzheim, a small German town in Baden-Württemberg, where one person in four was killed in the most horrible manner in mid-February 1945. We have photos of that crime. I’ve shown this photograph to audience after audience.

 On the previous page of Hitler’s War are the well-known photographs of Dresden, where a hundred thousand people were killed in a period of twelve hours by the British and Americans. So many were killed so quickly that there weren’t enough living left to bury the dead. So the corpses had to be burned on these huge funeral pyres in the Dresden Altmarkt. I published the photographs in 1963 in my first book, The Destruction of Dresden and, now, in Hitler’s War, I publish them for the first time in color.

 Window Smashing

 There are 60 color photographs in this book, a work that no other publisher could have published so lavishly. Of course, our traditional enemies are absolutely livid because of this book, which is very sought-after in Britain. We published it ourselves, and personally delivered 5,000 copies to 800 book shops up and down the country and around the world.

 Our traditional enemies have been fighting back. Their local cells, branches and agents have been visiting — patiently and methodically, one by one — every book shop that stocked this book, demanding that it be “un-stocked.” Because most book shop managers are not open to intimidation in the way newspapers are, they get their windows smashed. As result, there’s been a campaign of window smashing throughout Britain during the last three or four months.

 During the night, the big plate-glass windows of the book stores are smashed, and the next morning the stores receive a letter on letterhead of the local synagogue, or the local Jewish Board of Deputies. The letters say “we are very sorry that your windows were smashed, but what can you expect? We promise that if you stop stocking David Irving’s books, you will find that this kind of problem ceases.”

 This campaign — smashing the windows of book stores, big and small, including chain book stores in Britain such as Waterstone’s and Dillon’s — has been reported in all the local newspapers. I subscribe to a press clipping service, so I get all these clippings. But there’s been nothing in the British national newspapers.

 And why not? Well, the answer is that these wondered where these journalists come from, these spineless, nasty little creeps such as Bernard Levin of The Times of London.

 I am philosophical about newspapers. I remember one Monday morning ten years ago when my secretary came to me, saying: “David, how can you stand for it? Have you read what they’ve written about you yesterday in the Sunday Times? It’s only a short thing, but you now might as well pack up. You’re finished.” He read from the article: “David Irving, who appears substantially to have over-estimated his mental stability this time …” “They’re calling you mad!”

 Recycled Lies

 I responded by saying, “Okay, so what? Are they going to assign me to some kind of psychiatric gulag archipelago? That’s from the Sunday Times, and this is Monday.” That’s the difference between being an author and being a journalist. When I write a book it goes into a library and stays there — especially if it’s on acid-free paper. What a journalist writes for the Sunday Times appears on Sunday, but by Monday it’s wrapping fish ‘n chips! So who cares? Or if it’s not wrapping fish ‘n chips, the paper’s being recycled to be made into new newsprint for new lies.

 One South African journalist wrote to me during the height of my South African tour in March 1992. I was speaking at meeting after meeting, addressing packed halls. In Pretoria, as usual, 2,000 people came to hear me. In Cape Town, another huge audience turned out to hear me at the Goodwood Civic Centre. The next day, I received a fax letter from a Cape Times journalist named Claire Bisseker who earlier had bombarded me with questions about what I thought about President de Klerk, the prospects for South Africa, the ANC, and all the rest of it. This time her letter was quite brief:

     Mr. Irving, the Cape Times would like to have your response to the following allegations made by a Capetonian who atted your meeting at Goodwood [Centre] on March 8. The source said that the meeting was of a neo-Nazi nature. Complete with Nazi banners and Nazi salutes. We would appreciate it very much if you could fax back to us your response as soon as you are able.

 So I turned this matter over in my mind. “Remember,” I told myself, “you’re dealing with a journalist — a journalist who will twist whatever you say. If I say that I have no comment, they will print the lies and say that Mr. Irving had no comment. If I deny it, they will print the lies and say that Irving denied it. They will print lies whatever you do.” So after some thought, I sent this brief letter to Claire Bisseker:

     Dear Clair,

     Thank you for your fax, and I appreciate your inquiry. Yes, you do have excellent sources. Neo-Nazi nature, Nazi banners, and Nazi salutes — the lot. As I marched in, an orchestra struck up the Slaves’ Chorus from Verdi’s opera, “Aida.” Later, the orchestra played the first bars of Franz Liszt’s “Les Préludes,” and it concluded with Liszt’s Opus 63 String Quartet. Meanwhile, searchlight batteries stationed around the Goodwood Civic Centre lit up, their crystal beams joining in a cathedral of ice ten thousand feet above the site; a thousand hands were once more flung aloft in the holy salute, and a thousand throats roared the Horst Wessel anthem. A video is available, directed by Leni Riefenstahl.

     I hope the above material suffices for what you have in mind.

 That’s the way to deal with journalists! I have developed my own techniques in dealing with them.

  David Irving

[imaginesforyourfandom]

Loving Her: Alex Morgan - Chapter 6

Warning: I am going to warn all of you that towards the end of the chapter there are some heavy topics in terms of coming out and religious views. I don’t think it will trigger anyone, but better safe than sorry. 

Questions, Questions, and More Questions...

(Y/N) POV:

I groaned slightly when my alarm clock went off. I tried to move, but realized I had another person snuggled into me.

“Alex” I groaned a little trying to reach my arm out to turn off the alarm. “I got to turn it off.”

The forward let out a little groan of her own before moving a little to let me turn off the alarm. Once it was off, I turned and pulled her back into me. She lifted her head slightly and I could see how tired she was. I brushed a little bit of hair out of her face as she gave me a small smile.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.” I mumbled as she leaned in to give me a small kiss. It was the day after our little mini party in Time Square. We had media day today and I could tell it was going to be a long day for her. Media days were always worse on her because of her status within the team.

“I just want to stay in bed with you all day.” She buried her face into my neck as I ran my fingers through her hair.

“I know my love.” I kissed the top of her head as she sat up when her phone dinged. She picked it up and was looking down at her phone. I rubbed her back a little as I was still laying next to her.

“It’s too early for this.” She mumbled as she tossed her phone down and turned to lay back into me.

“We got to get up soon.”

“I know. How does your foot feel?”

“Better. Dawn said that once we get to England, I can start regular training instead of all the light stuff I’ve been doing.”

“That’s good. It’s not the same with you not in training.”

“You just like staring at me” I joked as she let out a laugh.

“I can’t help it…you’re so cute.” She grinned kissing my cheek. I turned and kissed her as she gripped my jaw taking control of the kiss. Before things could go further, there was banging on our door. I dropped my head letting out a breath as she stood and went to open the door.

“Good Morning” Kelley said with a smile on her face. I rolled my eyes as I stood up.

“Good Morning Kelley”

“Did you two just get up?” she asked looking between us.

“Not all of us like getting up early Kelley.”

“I don’t either, but Becky’s my roommate right now which means I’m rising early right now!”

“Sucks for you” I said kissing Alex’s cheek before going into the bathroom. When I came out, Kelley was gone.

“She went to bother Allie so that we could get dressed.”

I nodded my head as I grabbed my clothes for the day. I knew we all had to wear similar outfits, so I didn’t need to put much creativity into what I was wearing. Alex quickly changed before we both headed out the door to meet up with the rest of the team.

“Where are we going first?” I heard Mal ask as we approached our teammates.

“Good Morning America and then we will go to Twitter’s headquarters” Pinoe said as she looked in our direction. “Oh! There’s the happy couple. Nice of you to finally join us.”

“It’s okay. I know you were missing us…” I joked walking towards Pinoe who pulled me into a hug.

“I’m stealing her Alex…”

“I’ll be sure to let Sue know…” Pinoe immediately pushed me back towards Alex as I laughed.

“No offence…” Pinoe said to me as Alex wrapped one arm around my shoulder and rested her hand and head on my other shoulder.

“You’re not exactly my type.”

“I’m everyone’s type so let’s establish that…” I laughed as we then were told to get ready to exit the building. We made our way to the cars as I got in one with Alex, Allie, and Kelley. The camera crew was also in the car with us. The car ride to GMA didn’t feel that long as we arrived relatively quickly.

“Hello, we are here at GM..A” I said to the camera as the girls were dancing behind me. “Good Morning America” We then were directed behind the stage where Hozier was playing.

“You look cute.” I said to Alex who smiled at me.

“You shouldn’t flirt with me…” she said as I pouted. “I’m in a relationship…my girlfriend’s kind of mean too.”

I grinned at her as they then motioned for us walk out. I laughed when Kelley and Allie started teasing Alex as we stepped out for the interview with Michael Strahan. The whole thing seemed to fly by in my opinion because next thing I knew we were leaving and heading to get food really quick before we had to be at the Twitter HQ.

I ended up at a table with Alex, Allie, Kelley, Pinoe, Ash, and Ali. I was next to Alex and across from Pinoe. I ordered just some fruit because I really wasn’t that hungry.

“Can I ask you guys something?” Pinoe asked as the table gave her our attention. “I feel like I already know the answer to this question, but I would feel better hearing it from you guys.

“What’s up?” Kelley asked as we gave her our full attention.

“If we win, and an invite were to come, would you guys go to the white house?”

“No” Alex and I immediately said as with Ash and them not far behind on saying no. I took a grape in my mind as Pinoe seemed to release a breath of relief.

“Thank god. I just needed to confirm that we were all on the same page.” I chuckled as Pinoe started talking about some conversation she had with Sue the other day.

“Hey…” I turned to Alex who was smiling at me. “You’re cute.”

“Oh, please don’t start this again…” Allie groaned as I smirked at her.

“Start what?” Ash asked looking between us.

“The other day they sat for like 10 minutes just saying, ‘you’re cute’ over and over to each other.”

“You guys are that couple?” Pinoe asked with a look as I laughed. “Actually, I wanted to ask you two…in terms of the public what are your plans? I mean…there’s about to be a lot of eyes on our team and on you guys so its like…do you have a plan for that?”

“In terms of like going public…?” I asked as she nodded her head.

“Actually, I wanted to know too because you guys haven’t really seemed like your keeping it a secret.” Ash commented as I looked to Alex who was already looking at me.

“That is completely up to you.” I said as she looked down for a moment. She had more to consider than I did so it really was up to you.

“I mean…I’m not trying to hide it. I’m not trying to flaunt it either though. I’m just enjoying my time with my girlfriend right now.”

“So, if people find out then its fine and if they don’t find out then it is also fine…” Pinoe said though it came out more like a question.

“Exactly.” She said as I nodded my head in agreement. This has to be one of my favorite parts of our relationship because even when we don’t explicitly talk about something we still manage to be on the same page.

“Well, then I am officially requiring you to hold my hand literally all the time.” I joked as she rolled her eyes but still intertwined our fingers as I smiled softly at her.

“You guys are so cute. I really hate it.” Kelley said as I grinned at her.

Once we were done with lunch, we made our way to Twitter HQ. We all had our own tables that we were at with a group of journalists. I smiled as everyone got settled and introduced themselves.

“(Y/N), it’s your first World Cup what sort of expectations do you have for yourself and the team going in?” The woman to my right asked as I thought about it for a second.

“I think that I have expectation that we are going to win.” I said with a laugh as they all laughed. “No, I think this is probably the deepest pool of players in the history of the World Cup and each game is going to bring new challenges for myself and the team, but I think we like the pressure that those challenges bring. I think that’s sort of what sets us apart from the rest of the teams in the tournament. I don’t think any of the other teams can handle the pressure to preform well like we do.”

“Do you think there is added pressure considering you guys are the defending champions?”

“I think that it’s a factor, but I mean when you’re the best team in the world you’re constantly going to have other teams trying to knock you out. Being the defending champions though doesn’t apply to some of the people on this team including myself. I haven’t won a World Cup, but I assure you I am dying too.”

The questions continued as the reporters asked anything and everything they could. I had all sorts of topics including equal pay, FIFA, and the NWSL. Eventually, they signaled that for one more question.

“How do you feel about team chemistry going into this tournament?”

“I think that this team couldn’t be closer. This isn’t just a team. It’s a family. We love and support each other so much and I really couldn’t ask for a better group of people to go through this crazy time with than the people I get to do it with.”

I then stood up and walked with one of the guys who explained that I was doing a Twitter Q and A with Becky. I grinned as I entered the room with Becky who rolled her eyes.

“Okay so the questions are pre-selected. They are screenshots so you just have to swipe to the right.” The guy explained as he handed me the phone we were reading off of. We both nodded our heads as they motioned that they were filming.

“Who is your favorite player of all time?” I asked as I looked to Becky who looked too me.

“Oh, am I answering?” I asked as she laughed. “I would say Ronaldinho. I was mesmerized watching him play when I was growing up. Or Lionel Messi because who doesn’t love Messi?”

“I would say Francesco Totti.”

“Really?” I asked with disbelief. “That’s so weird. I would have thought you would pick a defender. Next question, if you were trapped in an elevator which teammate would you not want to be trapped with?”

“You probably.” Becky answered immediately causing me to laugh. “You would definitely stress me out.”

“That’s so mean.” I said as I thought about it. “Emily Sonnett for me. She would stress me out.”

“Oh…that’s a good answer actually.” Becky said thinking about it. “Sorry Sonnett.”

“Oh no” I groaned as I sighed. “Which Hogwarts house do you belong to?”

“Ravenclaw.” Becky immediately said as she started explaining why. “I don’t care what you say you belong in Slytherin”

“I do not!” I defended as she rolled her eyes. “I took the official test and I am in Gryffindor. Also, there’s nothing wrong with Slytherin”

“You’re a Slytherin. I won’t argue about this.” She said as I laughed. “Next question?”

“Favorite song at the moment?”

“I don’t really have one at the moment.”

“Mine is a tie between Hesitate and Don’t throw it Away by the Jonas Brothers. I just downloaded there album so…” she nodded her head as we answered a few more questions. Eventually, we were done as we exited the room. I was pulled into doing some other stuff as the day continued to drag. Eventually, the day was winding down as I walked with JJ and Christen towards where the rest of the team was.

“Oh my god” I said excitedly as I saw the foosball table. “Are we allowed to use this?”

“That is so cool” Tobin mumbled as we all examined it and saw ourselves on it.

“We are?” Sonnett asked as they nodded their heads at us. “We’re allowed to play with it.”

“Yes! Let’s go! We’re forming teams. Becky!” I shouted as we quickly started playing. The cameramen and reporters around us watched us all freak out and get super competitive as we played foosball with each other. It definitely got out of hand as we were all screaming and cheering, but I felt like it perfectly represented this team. When I was watching some of the girls play, I felt an arm slip around my waist. I jumped slightly but relaxed when I saw Alex lean into me. The girl looked a little tired, but she smiled at me. I wrapped an arm around her as we continued watching our teammates.

Eventually, it was time to leave as we exited the building and got into the cars and made our way back to the hotel. I could tell everyone for the most part was tired. I was definitely exhausted. All I wanted to do was nap, preferably with Alex. The team talked about going to dinner, but until then everyone was off doing their own thing. Once back in my room, I laid with Alex who seemed like she could pass out any second. I knew no matter how stressful the day had been for me it didn’t come close to how stressful it was for her.

“Go to sleep.” I mumbled as she hummed slightly. “It’s okay.” It only took a few more moments before she was out for the count and soon, I felt myself doze off too.

I woke up to Alex softly saying my name. I groaned rolling over and cuddling into the forward. She laughed a little as she rubbed my back which only made me want to sleep more.

“We have dinner soon.” She said as I groaned.

“No.”

“Yeah…you need to eat so you don’t get hangry.” I let out another groan as I started drifting again before she whacked me with a pillow. I sat up and glared at her as she laughed pulling me towards her and kissing my cheek.

“Asshole.” I mumbled as she smiled at me. She stood and went into the bathroom. I checked my phone for a moment before she returned. “How long do we have before dinner?”

“An hour.” She said as I turned towards her with an irritated look.

“I wanted to spend time with you before we have to go.” She defended as I leaned back against the headboard of the bed. She took that as her invitation to lay down with her back against my front as she played with my fingers. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did” I joked slightly as I rested my head on her shoulder.

“Why don’t you talk about your family?” she asked ignoring my joke as I stiffened. She turned towards me as I straightened my back slightly.

“It’s not something I like talking about.” I admitted as ran my fingers through my hair. She frowned and placed her hand on my knee.

“You don’t have to talk about it, I was just a little curious.” I stared at her deciding if I should tell her or not…

“No, it’s okay…I just need a minute.” I said as I took a shaky breath. I really was about to bare my soul to her, wasn’t I? “You have to let me get through the whole story without interrupting and you have to promise you won’t say a word to anyone else about it.”

“I won’t I promise” she said with a serious expression.

“I mean it Alex…no one else knows really besides Becky…and she only knows because I got hammered and accidentally told her…”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone…” she said as I nodded my head.

“When I was about 14-15, I developed my first crush on a girl. She was girl that I had known for a while. Her family was really close to my family. We all went to the same church. My parents were super religious. I mean…consider every cliché religious stereotype and you have my parents. I had an older brother and an older sister. I was close with both of them growing up because we weren’t too far in age. Anyway, this girl that I liked. She actually liked me back and she was my first kiss too. We secretly started dating and we were really good at keeping a secret. Except, her brother caught us one time. He told my siblings as well as his parents and then they all ended up telling my parents. I wasn’t allowed to be alone with her anymore and my parents ended up getting into a super big argument about what to with me…” I trailed slightly trying to keep my composure.

“It’s okay. Just breath. I’m right here.” Alex said softly as I nodded my head.

“My dad wanted to send me to one of those camps that ‘fixed’ kids. My mom just felt like I would grow out of it. My brother was on my dad’s side about sending me away and my sister was on my moms’ side about not sending me away. I later found out that my sister had actually caught that girl and I and had just kept her mouth shut because she didn’t want anything bad to happen to me. My mom ended up winning the fight, but it changed the dynamic of my family. My brother and father were very cold towards me and my mom just pretended everything was okay choosing to ignore the fact that I was gay.” I released another shaky breath before continuing.

“My sister didn’t treat me any differently though. She told me one night that she didn’t care who I chose to love, because I would never not be her sister. A year later, I had started seeing another girl in secret. My sister knew and had tried to do everything to help me hide it, but my brother found out. He immediately told my parents and told them about my sister trying to hide it from them. My father told me that I had two options…I could go to the camp to get myself fixed or I could leave. If I chose to leave, then I would no longer be welcome in my family until I fixed myself. I would not be allowed to talk to anyone in my family until I was normal. I chose to leave as hard as it was…my sister was given the option of going with me or shunning me from the family. She told me she was sorry, but she didn’t want to lose the rest of our family. She was already being punished for ‘protecting me from the consequences of sin’ which was how my dad had worded it. I understood, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less. The last thing my mom said to me before I left was that she would pray for me that I would see the light.”

I sat in silence for a moment as I let her process all the information. She took my face in her hands and kissed me. I could feel the love and comfort that she was trying to give me.

“You are perfect the way you are.” She said as she gave me another kiss. “I love you so much and I know everyone on this team loves you so much too. God, I could fight your family.” I smiled at her statement as I let her comfort me.

“Yeah it sucked it left me in a dark place and I really had no hope at all…but I am who I am because of what happened.” I shrugged my shoulders as she nodded though she had a thoughtful look on her face.

“If you were 14-15 when the first thing happened and then a year passed…then that would make you 15-16 when you got kicked out…” I nodded my head at her as she frowned. “What did you do?”

“I moved in with my friends. Sebastian and Santiago. You know the brothers that I am friends with…they took me in. I think their mom felt really bad about what happened. She’s told me so many times that she couldn’t imagine kicking out any of her kids. They took care of me and then I went off to college and the rest is sort of history from there.”

“I know I am asking you so many personal questions…but was that part of the reason you hated playing for North Carolina so much…?” I let out a low laugh as I nodded my head.

“Yeah…that team isn’t super friendly towards gays...or I shouldn’t say the team as a whole just certain players…”

“I’m really sorry that happened to you.” She said giving me another kiss. I nodded my head as I let her continue giving me comfort.

“I know…there’s nothing you could have done though…you didn’t even know me…”

“I know, but I love you…you’re my whole world and I don’t like thinking about bad things happening to you…” I smiled at her as I gave her another kiss. “Okay I have one more question and then that’s it…”

“What?”

“How come you don’t want the team to know? I know they would understand…”

“It’s more a pride thing for me…It’s not an easy story to tell. It’s embarrassing. It’s hard enough when we do things that involve families and I have no one. Having to explain why to everyone and deal with the pity and being treated differently…it’s not for me. I would just rather they didn’t know…” she nodded her head and gave me one more kiss.

“I understand and your story is safe with me.” She said as I leaned my forehead against hers. I hated to admit it, but I already felt slightly better after having told her. It felt like I have opened up a whole new part of my heart with her that I haven’t really opened up with anyone before. I really do feel like things can only go up from here.

To Be Continued…

[slothgiirl]

forever isn’t for everyone part 9

Even Alex looks more hungover than usual as we all pile into the bus after the concert, taking our very late night dinners on the go. We’ve got a extra day but there’s press to do there so we leave around three in the morning, on the road again.

Ben and I go over some last minute detail, Lucy having passed on food for sleep an hour ago. My eyesight blurs as I try to keep awake for a few more minutes and Ben rubs at his face. “Being thirty five sucks,” he groans, “can’t drink for bloody shite.”

“You could always cut back,” I tell him.

“And look like an old man? I don’t know how much longer I can do this job. It’s great but rough."

I roll my eyes, going to my bunk and ready for the sweet release of sleep, "get over yourself then. They’re not asking you to party hard with them every night."

I had only gotten up because I’m starving.

Lucy still looks like shit. And so does Ben. But the rest of the crew are already hooked up, watching the telly or some video on their phones. God bless wifi. There’s nothing but desert as far as the eye can tell and I’m struck again by how vast the states are compared to back home.

"Saved you some brekkie Ellie,” Tom says, passing a bag of Mcdonald’s gone cold. I don’t bother to microwave it. Washing it down with soda and not feeling the least bit guilty about it. I’d had a late night.

I change into jean shorts in an attempt to feel more like a living breathing person.

And Lucy shakes her head, face void of any makeup for once, “I’m leaning into feeling like a zombie.”

“Europe’s better,” Ben offers, “travels only a few hours instead of a whole day.”

“I think we’re all just feeling it today,” another techie observes, “but it’ll pass.”

“Burnout,” I utter, knowing it well from uni, “we’re burnt the fuck out.”

“I think this calls for margaritas,” Lucy grins, clearly ascribing to the idea of keeping it going.

I roll my eyes, propping open my laptop and going over the schedule for the thousandth time. There were always last minute additions. Emails I had to go through for time changes and the list of questions that would be asked. Then I had to go cross reference it with the list the boys had drawn up.

Someone draws down the shades, making the noon time sun almost bareable as we leave the city behind. Soon we'll be surrounded by nothing but greenery. Like something straight out of a painting; the colors more lush and vivid under the strong sun then in England.

I scroll through pages of emails. Some are just meaningless platitudes sent by companies, filling time. Others were actual confirmations. I jot down any changes in the calendar, trying to find time to explore Los Angeles. Then it's off to the next country before the festivals kick off.

I didn't even see the statue of liberty.

"Why are they stopping," Lucy asks outload, already pullin out her phone and calling Ben. It was straight a straight drive down to California. No room for stopping if we wanted to get any rest once we arrived.

"Dunno," the driver shrugs, flicking the arrow so that we can pull over as well. "Didn't say anything to me."

Lucy starts on Ben as soon as he picks up. I close my labtop, already factoring in this little stop. It'll put us and hour or two behind schedule depending on why they're stopping. We should still get there by tomorrow morning. And there was a three hour cushion before the first interview.

The boys would have to head straight there.

It was up to Miles and Nick, Lucy wanting to help develope each of the member as individual people and not justin have Miles be the face of all. A hard task when only Miles would answer questions half the time. And they were always taking the piss out of interviewers.

"Somethings wring with the bus," Lucy sighs, "can you call the company?"

"I really fucking hope it's just a quick fix," I grumble, we were only two hours out of salt lake. Enough to make it suck it we have to turn back to get the bus fixed.

"We have an extra day," Lucy notes, as she plops down next to me. "And phone interviews can work. Might even get a few words out of Nick."

"I think it'll only make it worse." I find the number and call.

The sun is setting by the time we make it back to Salt Lake City. A whole afternoon wasted. Some cable or sensor had fried on us.

"I just don't understand," I repeat for the hundredth bloody time, "why you can't just give us another tour bus! It doesn't have to be perfect but we're hours behind schedule."

The pencil pusher, hair long gone grey at the temples, doesn't even look up before replying, "for insurance purposes only this bus is covered. If you'd like to amend the policy you'll have to fill out form H-17 and attach the previous policy statement." Which sounded a lot like horse shit to get more money out of us. The whole point of insurance was to not worry about things like this.

I roll my eyes, backing off the counter. "Thank you," I smile, feeling my eye twitch.

"Any luck," Jaime asks, Ben trailing like a dog behind me.

"None." I run a hand through my hair. The crew, like ants, had finished moving the most vital equipment onto the working bus. Jamie and Nick had run to get everyone food. "I think our best bet is to just let them fix it. They'll have it done my the day after tomorrow and have them met us in LA before we head down to San Diego."

Ben nods. "Fuck it then. We've lost enough time as it is."

"Who goes and who stays," Lucy says, eyes flickering between all the people assembled. We were hardly a large group. Seventeen in total, including the band.

"Us , the band, and the stage tech," Ben answers, leaving no room for arguement. "Sound checks going to be a bitch for you," he tells Nick and Jamie.

"Not if they get to LA early," Jamie retorts.

Ben and I go back in to sign the paperwork.

By the time we're done and back out, Miles and Alex have finally deigned to grace us with their presence. Miles in black skinny jeans and an adidas jumper, glitter still clinging to his hair after the last concert. Alex right next to him, cigarette in hand, as he laughs at something Miles just said, in an old strokes shirt and jeans even as the cold of the desert settles in for the night.

I swallow, my heart lurching at the sight of him.  

There goes any pretense that I might be getting over him. I bite the inside of my cheek, following Ben onto the bus as Lucy tells Miles what's going on. Unlike all of us, Miles and Alex had remained holed up on the broken bus, content to smoke week and sleep until we figured things out.

Miles had only come out for some fries and more cigarettes.

Thankfully, I didn't have to move anything. Just have to share a bus with my ex. No biggie.

Lucy glances at me, eyes wide, while smiling thinly.

We pile into the bus, waving the rest of the crew goodbye, but happy to not be the ones that had to sit around and wait.

Taking a seat once more on the couch, I open up my lab-top and start sending emails to try and squeeze in all the interviews in an afternoon instead of over two-ish days. Anything to keep me from having to deal with the Alex situation. Alex who, I couldn't but notice, as I glanced over the rim of my computer, had dark shadows under his eyes despite having slept the majority of the day away.

Miles, like a shark smelling blood in the water, takes a seat next to me, smiling shamelessly. "Not surprised you couldn't bully them into giving us a new bus Ellie."

I raise a brow, "oh what? Was I supposed to fight the man?"

"Might've done the trick," Miles nods, "but they probably looked at you and decided they could get their way."

"Oh fuck you," I scowl, heart not really in it. Writing professional sounding emails was mind numbing work. "Not like crying would've softened up their cold dead hearts."

Miles smiles bitterly, "very true there."

"So we're not stoping until California," Jamie asks.

"No my lad," Miles calls back, "you mum'll have to do without the nice mug from Vegas."

"Amateur," Ben shakes his head.

"Should've just gotten it when we were there," Lucy joins in.

Nick grins. "Cut him some slack lads," he says as he claps Jamie on the back, "Cookie was too busy downing shots to worry about dear old mummy."

I laugh along with them, allowing myself to forget all the complicated feelings I have at the moment. Miles' easy way of worming his way into things, making people feel included as much as he was able to turn around and sink into his own private circle of him and Alex. It was no wonder Miles had brought Alex along.

If not for the fact that I'd spent countless nights watching Miles snog one girl only to go home with another, I'd have wondered. Alex, my gaze flickers to his sleepy eyes, most likely form the weed. Alex I wasn't so sure.

Though I'd spent hours with him, I now felt as though I hadn't known him at all. He'd been so warm and open in the beginning. Though, as I try to recall anything at all about him, I realize anything he'd shared had been surface level. I didn't know anything about his parents, or childhood, or even what his favorite food was. Only that his appetite for music was rivaled by his ability to devour books in a single sitting. That his wardrobe extended into random cupboards.

His dark romantic eyes catch mine. Catch me staring at him like a pathetic lovestruck girl.

I lose myself in all the work that has now piled up.

[northernreads]

i actually kind of like the idea of looking back at my year and now at the decade to take a moment to pause and look at what i have to appreciate and what i’ve overcome. yeah it’s kind of cheesy but i like it anyway

so 2019 had some big things

my family got a new dog. a german shepherd named charlie. he got bigger and was full of more energy than his previous owners anticipated. he was supposed to be a yard dog, but he was so lovable that they tried to make him a pet and with little kids it wasn’t an easy mix. he’s a complete goof 

after ending 2018 feeling very dismayed about ever finding a decent job, i got back into looking for a better job. i spent most of 2018 trying to find a job in my field, after just completing a masters. i was working fulltime in a coffee shop, and was about to be made a supervisor against my will when i started widening the parameters of my job search to anything else that paid better. i got past a three stage interview and landed a decent job, barely escaping with my life and sanity from the coffee place. the job is not anywhere near my field, but i have the potential to make my masters useful there eventually and the money is good. it’s the kind of job that, if i really wanted, i could stay in securely for the rest of my life. it’s nice just having that kind of security at hand. it’s good for now.

before starting that job though, i left the country for the first time. i actually the whole continent in fact. i went on a plane for the first time and i did it by myself too. i went to england and finally finally finally met (and it sounds cheesy but i do not exaggerate) the love of my life and absolute best friend. i met him on here in 2018 and we finally made a meeting work. it was the best week of my life. we spent it in london with a day trip to brighton thrown in. i have never felt more like myself. i have never felt so at peace or so happy. london was amazing and I can’t wait to see more of england in time. i especially can’t wait to see more of him. 

the new job is a lot more physical than any job i’ve done before so it sounds weird but i also kind of became more in tune with my body this year because of it. i really like that actually.

i’ve also made some good work friends, and i really like the people i work with. I’ve even been like social with them outside work? me being social at all is a big deal, especially because I haven’t hated it. it’s the first job i’ve ever worked that doesn’t have customers too, or rather none that I have to deal with. and that is really refreshing. I definitely don’t come home feeling as exhausted as any other job i’ve ever worked and I think that’s a huge reason why.

because this job pays better i was also able to finally move out of my parents’ house. i stayed with them while i was in uni and it’s been a less than ideal situation during that time. things with my parents were getting bad in particular. but i got very lucky and found a super reasonable apartment with a roommate who is just a quiet as me so things are pretty good on that front. i have my own place, i can cook the food i want to cook, i’m not cleaning up after my family anymore. i miss my dogs to death but i visit them every single week

i also started volunteering at my local library, in an attempt to build some connections and experience in a library setting (i went to school to be a librarian)

my boyfriend also became an uncle this year, and while i haven’t properly met his niece in person yet, i already adore her and cannot wait to help spoil her properly

in december, after about seven months, got to see my boyfriend again. this time he made the trek to come visit me (his first time in canada, or north america for that matter). we forever bite our thumbs in the general direction of lisbon, i took him snowtubing, we found a photobooth, we did the touristy things in toronto, we stayed up all christmas eve to bake cookies, spent xmas together going to see the new star wars movie, went to niagara falls and gave america the middle finger and built forts and watched movies and went to an arcade and let him drive my car (on the wrong side of the road apparently) and tried new food and walked for ice cream in the cold and went swimming and were just complete idiots together. i wonder if airports will ever just be normal to me. because this year they’ve been places of pure joy (arrivals) and also places of gut wrenching sadness and grief (departures)

2019 wasn’t always easy. i dealt with my anxiety a lot this year. i went through a lot of changes. i missed my boyfriend a lot. the world has been rough, there is a lot of bad going on. but, for me, it’s been a pretty good year. 2019 came at me, but i overcame and i enjoyed so much of it.

[londonspirit]

My Zac Con aka CCXP Cologne

[Warning: really long post, full of swooning and rambled ramblings cause words are hard when it comes to that man! Consider yourself warned] 

When they announced CCXP Germany, I was skeptic. Even more so when they announced Zachary Levi as first guest! 

My Zac, finally coming to a con nearby? That couldn't be true. But of course I went and got me a ticket for all four days! Couldn’t let that ONE chance slip through my fingers. Even better, a dear friend wanted to join into the fun. 

And so we were headed towards Cologne on Thursday, even though Zac would only be there from Friday on. But we wanted to get a feel for the venue, the people and everything else. It was lovely: not as huge as the one in Brasil, but fine for their first time. Wonderfully organized, clean, enough food and drinks on location, and even an app to keep one up to date! After that we had a wander around Cologne - had to show my friend the city (she's from England) and yes, we had the hopes to run into the man himself. Sadly that didn't happen, cause he did the same wander two hour LATER! *hmpf* Still not over that. 

Anyhow: Friday was the first photo day. And I was nervous. I knew it would be fine, my English is sufficient enough to say Hi and tell him how incredibly awesome he is but yeah... still nervous. Luckily he was scheduled for autographs before we had our photos, and those autos were out in the open. Naturally we went there first thing after arrival. And there he was, only a few metres away from me, breathing the same air as us! And I might have made all sorts of weird noises. (Yet, my friend held my hand and tried to calm me down!)  We stuck around for a bit - just making sure he was REALLY there!! *grins*  But finally it was time for our photos. We queued up; and I could hear him laugh which did NOT help the butterflies in my stomach. 

Coming around the corner and seeing him in all his tall as fuck glory, I might have had to take a very deep breath! He grinned and actually introduced himself!! I mean: WHAT? I know who you are, I am HERE just for YOU!! But yeah, that's Zac, he does shit like that! *sighs happily* And yes, I did actually mutter 'You're really real' when I approached him. I cannot for the life of me remember what he replied (I THINK it was 'yes, I am' but don't hold me to that!) Those eyes are VERY distracting, I tell ya. I asked for a hug photo, and he said: “Yeah, you can hug me.” (HNGNGH!) Which I did.  He smells of nothing (thanks Sal for confirming that); he's also very warm and VERRRRY firm!! Like DAMN firm! *grins* I thanked him and basically floated back out. I cannot for the live of me remember the rest of the day! There were panels we attended but honestly, I cannot remember any of them! *hehe* 

The next day we had our autographs (still sooo fucking thankful to my Sally for getting that for me - I owe you BIG TIME for that. And as an FYI: if you're like me and (used to) think photos are better than autos: NO! Autographs are soo much better, especially when it's with such a lovely human being!)  Again: queuing up (which wasn’t really a queue, just a collection of a handful of people, which was a shame really - everybody should want to meet that man!!); Sally went first and I kept grinning like a loon; she likes him almost as much as I do, but she’s got herself much better in control.  

The steward tried to distract me; still not sure whether i appreciated that or not. Anyhow, he was done with Sally, and looked up and at me, and I might have squeaked a bit. The steward who had written down my name was down the line, and I panicked. He waved me up, might have said 'come up' and stupidly I pointed down the line but she was there, hurrying to give him my name. I didn't really feel my legs when I walked up to him, because he was looking at me. (You know when celebrities look at you and don't really see you? NOT HIM! He does see you, and good lord, that's a really heady feeling.)  I had my photo to get signed; and he said: "Welcome back" or something along the lines of remembering me from the day before. Oh, and to avoid con crud, he fistbumped everyone (although he high-fived many people which totally defeated the purpose! My beautiful silly dork!)  Anyhow, he signed, and I started babbling: thanking him for coming to Germany, and telling him how much I missed NerdHQ. At that point he looked up, that huge, beautiful smile on his face. "You've watched it?" - "Every year," I told him, "Used to plan that weekend around his panels." His face was the most beautiful thing I’vve ever seen, so happy; he was basically beaming. Told me he was still trying to  get that off the ground again, in a different format. The passion and love he has for that? It's incredible.  I then asked him if he enjoyed the walk down into Cologne, and that we walked the same ways only hours before which made him grin. He enjoyed it, he said, didn't get sunburned (We did, and I told him that. *snorts* told ya, I was basically vomiting words all over him).  He REALLY takes his time, tries to keep a conversation going. He listens, and I can’t stress that enough, he SEES you when he looks at you. 

It was over way too soon, and I said 'bye, see you later' and stumbled down the steps, a smile basically plastered to my face; people were looking a tiny bit strange as I walked down towards my friend, but the stewards were just grinning back. It’s weird what you remember in moments like that.  I hugged my friend and might've cried a few happy tears. I LOVE her so much for just letting me be cause I needed at least half an hour to come back to myself. Since I was basically useless for the rest of the day, we just hung around, waiting for him to do the interview in the fish bowl. He came out, waving and vanished inside, did the interview, and after 15 minutes he came back out, and high-fived everyone standing there before hurrying away again.  

That was our day over cause there wasn't much else that day.

Sunday morning: double picture with my Sal and Zac. We both went full on fangirl: she wore a Shazam shirt and I had made a special one for him. His face lit up when we walked in. "I LOVE the shirt!" I swear, that grin will be the death of me one day. He pulled us both in (TIGHT); it was over way too soon again. We thanked him again, and left very giddily. 

They had added a combination ticket late on Saturday: auto and selfie with Zac! I did pretend to think about that for a bit but deep down inside I KNEW I had to do it. Who knows when he'll be back... so yeah, that was basically a given. So the first thing in the morning was going to get that ticket, and then pick a time. I chose the one after his panel so I could properly say goodbye. (Also hoped it wouldn't be too full and that he would take even more time). We then spent ALL day with sitting in panels we weren't really interested in, which was okay apart from that utterly dreadful and terrible Batman panel. *shudders* Still wondering why they even did this: the artists clearly didn't want to be there AT ALL.  The cosplay panel on the other hand was quite interesting.  We moved seats after the GOT panel, which meant we had front row seats! 

And then it was finally time. And since it's Zac nobody was surprised that it was not a moderated one but the usual Q&A! I've seen so many online, and yet being actually there was something else entirely. Especially being that close. *exhales deeply* 

That man's ... everything is unparalleled, his personality, his look on life, his optimism; his down-to-earth-ness! He’s so passionate about the things he loves, and yet still fully rooted in reality. He’s famous, very aware of it, and uses that for the bestest of reasons.  It's just mindblowing. I'm soo glad I had the chance to witness it live. (And yes, I might have recorded it cause I KNEW I'd forget so much with time. I still hope that at some point some video shows up, but until then I'm happily listening to him ramble on). That man's come such a long way, and still so much to give and to do, and I cannot wait for him to do all the things he loves and wants to do. I even managed to ask a question (yes, I did make a list with Q's the second I knew I would be going)!! I'm still in shock about that. (It helped that we were front row, so I couldn't see the people all around!) I very happily sat down again after asking, cause my knees were a bit wobbly during that answer cause he tries to direct that towards you. And having that gaze on you for who knows how long? It's the most dizzying thing in the world.  I’m still amazed that he managed to stay seated the entire time; usually he’s up on his feet very quickly and then you can’t take photos cause he’s basically all blur and unstoppable. 

That hour was over way too quickly, and before I knew it, I was in a queue again, waiting for my second autograph. When it was my turn I had to wait a bit longer cause he had to sign some stuff for who knows who. I wasn't unhappy, just standing there, watching him? There's worse thing to do :-D And once again, he smiled at me when I came up to him. "I know you," he grinned when I gave him our double pic to sign. I might have had a gift for him which was music related, so naturally I asked him if there's anything to expect in that direction. He nodded, and very passionately said there would be at some point, still working on the how and all that. So yeah, here's more hope than usual. Cause the world NEEDS that beautiful voice in it! I also asked when he would be leaving, and wished him save travels. Oh, and I thanked him again for coming, and he said he'd be back next year! (I really hope that's really happening, I'd be sooo there again!). And as I was leaving he said to say hi to my English friend (apparently she was the only English person at the whole con), and I pointed at her, and he waved at her! What a sweetheart! 

I was mentally exhausted after that, so I just sat down in front of the autograph booths to watch him a bit longer. (It was far enough away to still be inconspicuous but close enough to see him clearly)  My Sally -bless her huge heart- just left me there and went to get us coffee, cause she knew I needed the time to calm down (and the caffeine)! I love her so much, and I'm so glad we did this together. She's my hero!!! There were only a handful more people there; and no other celebrity to sign anything. His time slot was until 6:30 pm, and it was just after 6 when he was basically done. And yet he stuck around until the VERY end. There were only staff left, and he climbed over the tables to take pics with them, signed things for them, giggled and just had fun. He could've left, there was nobody there anymore, and yet he stuck around until his time was up and then he packed all his things, waved at the staff people and wandered off, still with a skip in his step. I was done by that time - there was the B. Wong panel but I didn't want to end the con on anything else than Zac so we agreed to leave and go home.

Now, one week later, I am still so full of happiness and joy and gratitude for having been given the chance to meet the man. I'm grateful for Sally who took it all in her stride, dealt with me the only way that works on me. Thank you, darling, I love you so very much. Those are some memories I will treasure for the rest of time. I've met a few people I like and adore, but NOBODY will get even close to meeting and talking to the one and only Zachary Levi. I wish him only the best and all the success he deserves. And that he fulfills all those dreams he has about a better world. And yes, I hope he’ll be back next year! I’ll happily do it all over again in a heartbeat!!!  I have to go back to work tomorrow (I do not want to) but I will fed off of his heart and his love and energy for a very long time!!! 

Here’s to seeing him again next year - let’s just make this an annual thing, yeah?! 

[niall-is-my-dream]

You & Me - Part Fifteen

2450 words

When you arrived back at LAX a few days before the album launch, you couldn't have been happier. The weather had been cooling down in England, but in L.A. it was a warm 24 degrees.

Niall had insisted that you stayed at his with him while you were there. At a meeting with the crew you had told them about your relationship with Niall and also the Saskia situation. With increased security around you both and now the legal application of her not being allowed near you had gone through, it was important that they knew. No more keeping secrets from any of them. Everyone was pleased and annoyingly not surprised. Most people had guessed you liked each other. Apparently it was obvious.

You knew you still needed to hide this relationship, neither of you ready to go public. However you being with him everywhere was bound to raise suspicions about you. 

Niall would be busy doing promo and stuff for the album this week, but you would be able accompany him to interviews if you wanted. He didn't want you to leave his side, and at first it had been sweet but now you were beginning to feel a bit suffocated.

An argument had occurred a couple of days after the album came out. You had said you were going to the gym and he had insisted that he come too. With hundreds of album to sign, you had wanted to give him some quiet time to get on with it, he however didn't want you to go on your own.

 "Ni, it's the gym. I'll drive there, park the car and go in the building. I'll come straight back when I've finished. Ok?"

 "Why are you saying it like that?!" He asked you, hurt evident in his eyes.

"Because, you won't let me go anywhere on my own!"

"Well, I'm sorry for caring about my girlfriend! For fucks sake Cal, she could follow you or something. I just......."

"There's a restraining order in place for a reason, so I don't have to stay in all the time! You're busy working right now and I'm in the way."

"Well, it's my job, so yes I'm busy."

"And I get that, why do you think I was giving you some space! I feel like you're....... like you're..... "

You paused not wanting to say anymore, worried you would hurt his feelings more. He looked upset from your outburst already. You were a tiny bit jet lagged, a tiny bit bored of being stuck in and massively hormonal.

"Finish the sentence." He asked.

"Ni, fuck..........I'm a mess." You said and the tears fell easily. 

He closed the small distance between you and you reached your arms up to cuddle him close. 

"I'm sorry I'm being clingy, I'm just so fucking frightened that something will happen to you. That something will happen and you'll want to end this." He whispered.

"I'm sorry to, but I don't want to end this. Nothing she does will make me change my mind."

 You stayed standing in the kitchen holding one another for a while. Niall's hands gently stroking your back as he kissed your temple. 

"I'm so happy with you Cal, I meant what I said about not wanting anyone else, about wanting it to be just you and me. I'm sorry I've been so reluctant to let you go out alone while we've been here."

The situation with Saskia was being dealt with, but it was still always in the forefront of your minds.

Agreeing to not mention her again and to not let her win, you made your way to the gym, on your own.

A busy and hectic week later and you were back on tour.

Niall wasn't happy that you had chosen to stay on a different tour bus with the crew and not him. But you didn't think it would be deemed professional to do that. While everyone was supportive of your relationship, you didn't want to get treated any different to anyone else. Plus the crew and equipment sometimes left a city before Niall did. If he had interviews to do then you would head off to get an early start at the next venue while he stayed behind to carry on with his work commitments.

Niall back on tour was definitely the happiest you'd ever seen him. The album was doing amazing and was already number one in loads of countries. He was absolutely buzzing all the time, it was infectious.

When you arrived in New York the day before the show, Niall had insisted that you both went sightseeing and stayed in a hotel for the night. He headed out to do some interviews while you got settled in the hotel. Of course he had gone all out and booked a suite in a top hotel. The bathroom was bigger than your living room back in your flat in London.

You called Bex while you waited for Niall, facetiming her so you could show her the room.

"Wow! You are one lucky bitch." She had said as she took in the space.

"I know!" You squealed.

"You got some good underwear on for later!" She replied with a wink.

"Bex!"

"Well have you?!"

"I am going to change into some yes!" 

"Hell yeah! Fyi, I don't want details later." She laughed.

You laughed too, before catching up with her about her week at work and her numerous dates with Willie. Things were going great with them and she had a weekend trip to Ireland to meet his family in a few weeks.

A text from Niall popped up on the screen as you spoke to her, he had finished his interview and was on his way back to the hotel. You ended the call not long after as Bex was on her way out anyway. Promising to catch up later with some pictures of your sightseeing with Niall.

The prospect of spending some time exploring the city was massively appealing. Niall arrived back not long after you ended the call and he had Mark Jarvis from his security team with him. There was no way he would be able to walk around New York without him. You chatted in the car as you left the hotel about what you wanted to get up to and decided to grab some food out and hit the shops before seeing some of the sights.

You were just leaving a sports store where Niall had treated you both to some new gym clothes when a group of four fans approached him. Moving to the side of the pavement you allowed them to get closer to him. You'd seen him with fans before when you'd done some sightseeing in Europe with everyone. But this was way closer than you'd been before. While they waited their turn to have their photo taken, some of the girls were eyeing you up. They smiled at you and you returned the gesture. Then he did something that surprised you, he introduced you to them.

After them saying they were looking forward to seeing him the next night at his show, he told them that you were part of his crew and his personal guitar tech and to give you a cheer when you helped him swap his guitars. Hiding your shock at the introduction you just laughed along with the girls when they said they would. They asked your name and enquired how long you had worked with Niall and been a guitar tech. It felt strange to interact with them but you could tell Niall had an ulterior motive to doing so. Mark ushered you away before the crowd got too big and you carried on your journey to explore the city.

You spent the afternoon shopping and taking in the sights, even going all the way to the top of the Empire State Building. Niall had pulled your back close to his chest as you took in the view of New York. He was being brave showing his affections to you when anyone could see. It was nice to have that moment to try and be a normal couple. You took some photos of the view and a selfie of you both as Niall snuggled into your neck, whispering how much he loved you.

It had been the perfect day.

Arriving back at the hotel it was nearing dinner time. Deciding to eat in the restaurant you asked the front desk to reserve you a table. You both needed to freshen up and change before dinner so you said goodbye to Mark and went up to your room.

While Niall went into the living area to make a call, you grabbed a change of clothes and underwear and made your way into the bathroom. After how crazy he had gone about your black lace set from a few weeks ago, you had decided to tease him with another set. This one was red satin with a red and white lace trim. Slipping on some jeans and a black cotton top he would be none the wiser throughout dinner.

When Niall had finished his call, he changed into a long sleeved blue and white striped top ready for dinner. He looked so good in stripes and you almost told him to cancel dinner and whip off your clothes to show him your new underwear. However, you managed to close your mouth just in time for him turning around and ask if you were ready.

His hand landed on the small of your back as he guided you into the lift. You loved how brave he was getting with showing you little signs of affection. Going public was a big deal for him, he wasn't one to talk about relationships and liked to keep things private. 

When you were seated opposite each other in the hotel restaurant, you made the point of telling him that this was the first date you'd been on out together completely alone. When you'd been pictured in L.A. you had been with Bex and Willie. And when you'd been out and about sightseeing you'd been with the band and crew.

"I'm actually a little bit ashamed of that to be honest." He said. "Been what, two months and I've not even taken my girl out on a proper date."

"Shocking behaviour Horan." You smiled in reply.

You placed your order with the waitress for drinks and started to browse the menu. Niall had his legs stretched out straight under the table and you moved yours forward to link in with his. He looked up, a smile on his face to acknowledge that it was an ok move. One thing you found difficult with Niall was not being able to show him any affection when out. You weren't particularly a PDA fan but everything was done with caution with him, in case you were seen by someone.

When the drinks arrived and food ordered you gave your menus to the waitress. When she left your table to place your order with the restaurant kitchen, Niall reached his hand across the table to take a hold of yours.

You smiled and blushed at the gesture, which Niall returned.

"Can I ask you something about earlier?" You said hesitantly.

"Yeah, of course." He replied, as he gently stroked you hand with his fingers.

"Why did you introduce me to those fans?"

"Well, I thought it would easier if I did rather than them speculating all over social media. And........ I'm hoping if I can slowly give them little glimpses of you that they might be accepting of you."

You nodded as you took in his words before he continued.

"This, what we have is amazing and I don't want it to end. I know I'm busy with tour and the album but I hope you can stay around long enough for when it calms down and I can commit even more to you."

You hadn't been expecting him to say anything even remotely like he had.

"So............ you see this as something long term?" You asked, desperate to hear him say yes.

"Well, yeah....... Do you not then?" He replied, his fingers pausing and a worried expression on his face.

"Oh, I do. Just nice to hear you say it." You smiled.

"Jesus Callie, I wasn't sure by your face what you were going to reply." He said, a hand covering his heart and he let out a massive sigh.

"Sorry Ni, couldn't resist."

"Good job I love you." He whispered across the table.

You know when they talk in the movies about romantic dinners and couples swooning at each other over the table. That's what the dinner was like. You didn't stop talking and laughing with each other all night. Your gaze hadn't left his, and you felt more in love with him than ever in that moment.

It had only been three days since you'd been back on tour. Three days since you left L.A. But it also meant it was three days since you had slept in the same bed and been intimate. Three days and yet it felt like weeks.

After settling the bill, Niall asked if you wanted to go to the bar and get a drink. You leaned across the table and told him you had another present for him to unwrap. The raised eyebrows and naughty look on his face meant he had clicked on to your hidden message.

The lift was empty when you got in and pressed the button for your floor. With the doors closed he pulled you to him, kissing you hard before kissing down your neck and shoulder. His hand moved your top down a bit from your shoulder and a glimpse at the red strap of your bra had him moaning.

"God Callie." He whispered.

You smirked at him then. And when the lift pinged to say it was at your floor, you moved from his grasp and made your way towards your room, Niall hot on your heel.

When you got in the room, you slowly took off your boots, watching Niall sitting on the bed doing the same. He looked up at you, noticing that you had your eyes on him. With the wine running through you both he had a cute drunken look on his face. As he went to stand up from the bed, you stood in front of him and told him to sit. Raising his eyebrows at you, you could see he was shocked by your dominant behaviour.

You were going to tease him a bit tonight and you couldn't wait.

Part Sixteen

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/183624225963/you-me-part-sixteen

[softestziam]

This is dedicated to my Z/D anon. Thank you for listening to me babble and thank you for inspiring this crap.

Eric had it all planned out, every last detail was mapped out perfectly in his mind. What he was going to wear, what he was going to say, everything, so no mistakes were to happen. He consulted with Kane and his dad beforehand to get some ideas and perspectives on what and how to do it. He had been gathering information for months, since they touched down in Russia in June. Scoping out ideas, subtly dropping hints, asking questions hoping he’d get an answer he could use and run with. He even spoke with Sally and Alan, knowing Harry would be no help, just mug the whole thing off. Everyone told him to make sure it was meaningful and special to them. That wasn’t any help though. Eric knew that from the moment he thought of the idea. He racked his brain for ideas, tried to find something creative, something memorable. It was hard to focus when work and illness and life got in the way. Late night google searches on the coach home or taking his phone with him into the bathroom for some privacy. Kane asking him during the plane ride home from Amsterdam while everyone was still celebrating. The only concrete thing he knew was that it was going to be done on summer holiday, after the Champions League final and after the Nations League. They could just hop on a plane and take off.

His first thought was Portugal, on the beach as the sun set behind them, the waves crashing creating a beautiful atmosphere. His mum shut that down almost immediately, saying that wasn’t something that symbolized them, that symbolized Eric. He thought about Milton Keynes which Sally quickly vetoed, expressing Dele’s uneasiness about his hometown. The ups and downs he face there and what he still deals with at time, internally. Eric was running out of ideas and had to think and do something, fast. Everything else was in order, the outfits, the ring, the speech he’d give. Now he just needed to know where he was going to do it. Kane told him to make a list of places that were special to them and meant something. That was impossible, every time he thought about Dele it was followed with a memory of football. The first time they kissed was in France during the Euros, after the Iceland lose. Sitting in their shared hotel room, tension and emotions running high between them. They’d been playing this back and forth game all season and it followed them to France. Eric was consoling a down rotten Dele when it happened. Dele desperately grabbing at Eric’s shirt that he stained with tears when he mustered up the courage to just kiss him.

They returned to England after their respective holidays and their energy changed. The flirting was more aggressive, more open, more personal. The other lads didn’t seem to care or mind, Trippier applauding them actually. They didn’t have an official title but they definitely snuck kisses in the changing room when no one was there or paying attention. Grabbed onto each other tighter during goal celebrations, whispers in each other ears when they had prying eyes watching them. Promises of the future, both in the romantic and sexual nature. Their first declarations of love was revolves around football as well, England had just qualified for the World Cup. Once again emotions were running high, adrenaline pumping through their veins. Everyone was celebrating, bombarding Southgate and Kane. These little band of misfits who collapsed in France were heading to Russia. Dele jumped on Eric’s back, demanding to be carried around the pitch like a child when it slipped out of his mouth. Eric almost dropped him he was so taken aback by it. be carried around the pitch as they celebrated with their fans and each other. That’s when it slipped out of Dele’s mouth. He was on a high, euphoric, and said it, stunning them both. Eric almost dropped him in shock, trying to play it off, play it cool but readjusting him on his back. Later that night Eric said it back, just the two of them watching the stars above them on their hotel balcony.

Russia solidified everything for Eric, even before then to be totally honest. The few weeks between the season ending and the national team gathering at St. George's Park were eye opening, life altering for Eric.They both knew it’ll be the last time they’d have to themselves before everything changed. They had such a strong belief in their team, the group of lads Southgate assembled, that England was going to make some noise in Russia. Picking out what to pack somehow became intimate and special to them, something to treasure. Dele always taking the piss out of the situation, especially when Eric’s fashion sense was involved. Eric joking at the over abuent amount of hair products Dele was packing, each one for a different weather type with a different smell to them. He loved him but knew he was excessive. The minute they touched down in Russia Eric knew. Knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life, personally and professionally, with Dele. Watching as Dele just took everything in around them with wide eyes. Asking so many questions about every sight they came across. Throwing himself into every training, every game, even if he didn’t play. Even at only twenty two he was wise, life had hardened him early on and it never once jaded him, even when it should have.

When they had days off, which were few and far between, Dele wanted to do anything Eric did. Going to a museum, learning about the Russian culture, the history, things you’d never learn in a classroom. Eric was enamoured by this new side of Dele, someone who was willing to expand his horizons, to learn. That’s when Eric thought of proposing at the London National History Museum. Walker and Stones shot that down the minute Dele got back to his room and went straight in his PlayStation to play Fortnite against Trent. You could take the boy out of England but couldn’t take the England out of the boy, clearly. His ideas were dwindling and despite everyone’s excitement, no one was helping at all. They all said he had to find a place on his own, they could all point him in the right direction but ultimately it was up to Eric. During training and downtime during Russia, Eric could casually ask Dele questions about their relationship, what it meant to him, where he saw them going long term. It caused Dele some panic, confiding in Rose that Eric was going to break up with him after the tournament.

After the Colombia shootout and amazing victory, courtesy of Eric, he shook his head in amusement at Dele and promised he wasn’t going anywhere. Eric even almost dropped to his knee and proposed right then and there, everyone watching be damned. His emotions were running high, everything felt alive, like he was vibrating with adrenaline. Reality knocked him back down to size when he and Pickford were getting pulled in a million different directions to give interviews. The Croatia game made everything feel normal again as they lost and returned back to England. They went on their summer holidays, separately, with the promise to keep in contact and reconnect once they were back in London. That’s when Eric’s ideas went into overdrive. That’s where he did most of his planning, Dele none the wiser, enjoying the California weather with some of the lads from the England team. The season started without a hitch, even if they missed the first few matches due to a delayed holiday. Everything was going swimmingly. Dele still oblivious to what he was going to do. Eric confided in some of Dele’s friends when he officially bought the ring, asking for their advice. Dele was simple but flashy, wanted to make a subdue statement in everything he did. Wanted to be memorable but not arrogant and his jewelry was the same way.

The season wasn’t perfect, they rarely are. Injuries and a surprise appendicitis threw them both off. If Eric had to reflect on his season, he’d openly admit it wasn’t his best and he knew it. He knew what was being written about him almost on a weekly basis. Dele would admit it wasn’t his best either, but he was determined to work harder and be better next year. Some people didn’t get a next year, or are even lucky enough to accomplish what he had accomplished at his age. Making the Champions League final and finishing in the top four wasn’t something to dismiss. It was a reflection of the team and how good and determined they were. Football was winding down, getting an England call up for the Nations League was great but neither of them were ready for a heavy match due to playing days earlier in Madrid. A lot of the Spurs players, along with Liverpool players, weren’t able to wear the Three Lions during a crucial time. It gave Eric more time to finalize everything though. He had finally narrowed down the venues to propose in. He spoke to everyone who could help and talked through the logistics of everything. He knew, sadly, he couldn’t do it in a public place so that cancelled out the restaurant where they held Dele’s welcome to the club dinner.

“What are we doing here?” Dele asked as he followed Eric past empty rooms. “Seasons over, Diet.”

Eric mocked laughed at Dele’s comment. “Just wait.”

“Does Poch know you’re here? The grounds crew?” He continued to ask questions as they walked into the medical room at Enfield. “Finally getting that lobotomy you so desperately need?”

“Funny,” he replied dryly even though he enjoyed the playfully banter between the two of them. His heart was racing, his palms sweating. His nerves made him feel like he was vibrating, a livewire.

“The medical room,” Dele observed, switching on the light and doing a small spin around the room. “Romantic. But, why are we here?”

“I love you,” Eric started, letting out a deep breath to calm himself. “Didn’t always want to admit it, not to myself, and not to you.”

“Thanks,” Dele snorted.

“You were the biggest pain in my ass when you first arrived. Dele Alli, the superstar from MK Dons. The next big Spurs and England superstar,” Eric continued. “I wanted to hate you so much, Del.”

“Oh thanks.”

“But I couldn’t,” he sighed. “You weaseled your way into my life. Day in and day out, you were glued to my side. You gelled well with Walks and Kane but it was me you loved to rile up.”

“Still do,” Dele reminded him.

“That’s why I can’t picture my life without you, inside and outside football,” Eric told him, making sure he was speaking to directly to Dele and not at the floor or the wall behind him. “Here’s where we first met. It was right before your first training. I was greeting the medical staff when Poch came in to introduce you to everyone.”

“You has that floppy prince hair,” Dele recalled with a smile. “Looked like a California frat boy.”

“I loved that hair!”

“Frat boy,” he stressed.

“Anyway,” Eric interrupted any further tangents by Dele. “My disdain for you grew into appreciation, which turned into tolerance, then like, and eventually love. I wake up thinking of you and fall asleep dreaming of you.”

“Frisky.”

Eric sighed once again and reached into his pocket. Everything was straight out of a cliché but he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He kneeled and watched as Dele’s eyes grew wide. “Delboy, babe, I want this life with you and no one else. There’s no one else I want to experience this crazy life with. Will you marry me?”

Dele stared down at Eric in shock, eyes wide and prickling with tears. He blinked a few times to get them away but they just began to fall freely. “E-Diet.”

“Marry me?” He asked again, opening the ring box to enunciate his point.

“Y-Yes!” He cried enthusiastically, hands trembling. He watched in awe as Eric slipped the ring on his ringer to solidify it. Dele didn’t even care that he was crying, tears falling from his eyes and onto his shirt. “I love you.”

Eric stood up and smirked at Dele, his eyes wet from tears as well. “This was so agonizing.”

“Proposing to me?”

“Planning this,” he laughed. “Been trying since Russia.”

“That’s why you were so skittish the whole summer,” Dele realized, looking down at his left hand, marveling at the new accessory on his finger.

“Besides trying to win a World Cup, yeah,” he replied. Eric hooked his finger in Dele’s belt loop to pull him closer. “Love you.”

“Just kiss me, Diet,” he demanded, standing on his tiptoes to reach Eric’s lips. Their kiss was soft and slow, tears falling from both their eyes. Dele started to laugh into Eric’s mouth when he felt a tear fall down his face and into his open mouth. This began a giggling fit from the two of them, still exchanging soft kisses in between laughs. “But seriously, does Poch know you’re here?”

Eric rolled his eyes and jokingly pushed Dele away from him. “I pulled some strings.”

“I love you,” Dele laughed, grabbing a hold of Eric’s hand and squeezing once, twice. “Let’s go home and celebrate.”

“Let’s go home and call our parents, my phones been going off all night,” Eric told him.

“They knew!” Dele exclaimed. “Did Harry know? You know he can’t keep a secret.”

“He knew and shockingly kept his mouth shut,” Eric answered, as they walked out of the medical room and through the empty corridors to the exit. “Never asked for his input though cause we all know he’s shite at that.”

“Good call,” he agreed with a head nod, still holding onto Eric’s hand tightly. “I’m marrying a genius.”

“You are,” Eric confirmed, laughing as he dodged Dele’s hand from hitting him upside his head.

“Unbearable,” Dele groaned, opening the passenger side door and getting in as Eric opened the door for himself. “I am impressed Diet, pulling this off without a hitch.”

“Was torture,” he told him, grabbing Dele’s hand again and he started the car and took off towards home. “Glad you said yes.”

“Glad you asked.”

[fics-for-my-heart]

Soul Burn (p10) end

Summary: The first time you touch your soulmate, your skin burns in that spot till you touch them again

Word count: 3527

Warning: none, maybe a little rushed?

A/N: Wow, the last part of the series. It took a bit longer than I thought it would, but the feedback as been a m a z i n g. I love you all! Thank you for reading this and enjoying it ❤️

Masterlist 

Part One  Part Two  Part Three  Part Four  Part Five  Part Six  Part Seven  Part Eight  Part Nine  Part Ten

 “What do you mean I can’t see it yet?” Tom asked, pulling himself away from your arms to look at you with a deep frown.

 After setting the date for the dress to be delivered you, Julie, and Zendaya went back to Toms. All of you were currently hanging out in the living room. Tom had been laying on your chest while you played with his hair, till you told him you didn’t bring the dress home.

 “Because, buggy boy, I want you to be surprised.” You respond, patting his cheek. He huffed, resting his head back onto you as your fingers resume playing with his hair.

 “It’s really perfect. It’ll match well with your suit.” Zendaya said, earning a jealous glare from Tom as he stuck out his tongue. “Ooh relax. It’s just three weeks away, you’ll survive.”

 “Will I though?” He scoffed, rubbing his cheek against you.

 “Yes you dramatic child,” Zendaya laughed, pulling her phone out. “I’m going to order Chinese. What would you guys like?”

——

 The days that followed were some of the best. Between movie marathons, site seeing, swimming, and just being all out lazy there wasn’t a moment of boredom. You had so many pictures and videos that you had to back them all up to make room.

 Much too soon it was the day Julie and Mitch we’re leaving. You and Julie were curled together on the couch already making plans.

 “Okay, so I’ll FaceTime you while you’re getting ready. That way it’s almost like I’m there.” She said, her fingers were laced with yours and her head was on your shoulder.

 “I wish you could be there. I wish you could stay here.”

 “Me too. But you’ll be home after, right?”

 You nodded. “That’s the plan. Toms going to stay with me for a bit and then we will go stay in England for a bit. He has a new movie he is shooting soon so he will be back in LA in a few months and I’ll be home.”

 “Well. I’m excited you get all this fun but I’ll miss you.”

 “I’ll miss you too.”

 Before she could respond, Mitch came down the stairs, Tom close behind. “Hon, it’s time to go.”

 “Noooooo.” Julie sighed, sitting up with a big pout and reluctantly getting up. “I don’t want to.”

 You walked with them to the door, still hand in hand with Julie. “I’ll see you before you know it.” You said, wrapping your arms around her for a tight hug.

 “Not soon enough.” Her arms were tighter. “I love you so much.”

 “I love you too!” You said, finally letting go. “Let me know when you guys get home.” You added, hugging Mitch.

 “We will.” He said as him and Julie walked down the porch.

 “Tommy, what are we supposed to do now?” You asked, throwing your head back and spinning around the foyer with your arms out.

 Tom ducked down and scooped you up, earning a squeal from you. “I say we go take a nap and stay in bed for the next day and a half.”

 You gave him a kiss, then rested your head on his shoulder. “Sounds like a plan. Carry me to bed.” As soon as you were snuggled into bed with a movie on you fell asleep, feeling safe and cozy in Toms arms.

—-

 When you woke up you were met with Tom already looking at you. You reach out and put your hand on his cheek. “Babe. That’s a bit creepy.”

 “You just always look so peaceful when you sleep.”

 “I always feel peaceful in your arms.” You removed your hand to rub your eye. “What time is it?”

 “Almost two in the morning.” He laughed.

 Your eyes widened. “I didn’t think I was that tired. Oops.”

 Tom smiled, kissing your forehead. “The past few weeks have been wild so I don’t blame you. Are you hungry?” You nodded. “Let’s go make some food.”

 Once in the kitchen, Tom turned his 70s playlist on low and pulled out some left over rice and chicken. While you watched and waited you danced around the kitchen. You were in an incredibly good mood. Singing poorly to songs while Tom watched with love in his eyes. When the food was done and since it was warm out, the two of you ate outside. Enjoying the light sounds of the night life while making small talk.

 “Can I ask you something?” Tom turned his body to you, setting his empty plate down.

 You raised your eyebrows and nodded. “You can always ask me anything.”

 Tom worked his lip a moment, nodding. “Would you want to get married? We don’t have too, I know a lot of people who aren’t married. It’s more of a formality honestly. But would you want to?”

 “Are you proposing to me right now?” You asked, a smile on your face and butterflies in your stomach.

 “Uh, not at this exact moment?” It was almost a question and his lip was back between his teeth. “Would you say yes though?”

 “Only because I think Y/N Holland has a good ring to it.” You said, popping your last bit into your mouth.

 “I mean, you’re not wrong.” He smirked, pulling you to him the moment you set your bowl down.

  The two of you were silent for a few minutes. His hand was lightly running up and down your back while you focused on the way the moonlight hit his face.

 You finally broke the silence. “Yeah.”

 “Hm?”

 “If you were to ask me to marry you I’d say yes. But because I love you.”

 He smiled, wrapping you in both arms and kissing your head. “I love you too.”

 As quickly as the calming week came, it was gone. There were meeting, more interviews, a final fitting for Toms suit. It was hectic, sure, but there was something about seeing Tom back in his element. The way he interacted with the interviewers and the rest of the cast and crew by always greeting everyone in the room and telling them to have a wonderful day before leaving.

 When you had a moment, he showed you around the studio. Telling you funny stories and taking you to some of the spots he would hide while filming to nap. The two of you made out in just about every spot.

 The interviews went much the same as the first round. You still stayed on your toes, time checking and putting emphasis on the blacklisted rules. A lot had been retold by their higher ups after Tom brought it up in a meeting before press started again.

 In all, the best part was being able to stay at Tom’s and not hotels. Always the same bed and not having to pack and unpack every few days took away a lot of the stress. That also meant that Harry and Sam could come, and they brought Tessa. When they arrived her entire body was a wagging mess, she loved all over Tom then all over you. It was nice to have her sleeping at the foot of the bed and someone to snuggle when Tom had to run out.

 You also spent a lot more time with Zendaya. Sometimes working on plans for how the premiere would go, other times in the basement at her house with Tessa and ice cream watching movies. She’d quickly become one of your closest friends.

 The morning before the premiere you and Tom were enjoying the opportunity to sleep in. Tangled in each other with Tessa sleeping comfortably against your legs. It was all interrupted when a knock sounded at the bedroom door.

 “I hope you kids are decent. I’m coming in either way!” The voice said as the door opened. Behind it stood Zendaya with her hand covering her eyes.

 “Dude.” Tom groaned. You did the same as he pulled you into his chest. “We are trying to sleep.”

 You felt the bed dip and a hand on your head as Tessa moved into Zs lap. “Yes I see. But I planned a spa trip for me and Y/N so we can be relaxed and refreshed tomorrow.”

 “But it’s so early.” You mumble against Toms chest.

 Zendaya laughed. “Guys it’s noon.”

 “Exactly. Too early.”

 “Oh boo. Come on. We can even go to your favorite sushi place.”

 Tom kissed your head as he wiggled around. “Go on, love. Go have fun. I’ll be here when you get home.”

 You sat up, resting your chin on his chest. “Fineeeee. But I’m coming right back to this spot when we get back.”

 “Fine by me love.”

 With a huff you lifted yourself off the bed, kissing Tom before turning around. “Z, you’re going to have to get up.” You laughed, she had her face pressed into Tessa’s.

 “I mean, we can all stay here if you’d rather. I enjoy pup cud’s.” She ended in baby talk while ruffling Tessa’s ears.

 “Nope.” You crawled down the bed and threw on a hoodie. “I’m up let’s goooo.”

 “I love you!” Tom called as you stepped into the hall.

 You blew a kiss. “I love you too!”

——

 “Alright. This was definitely a good idea.” You sigh as the masseuse worked the troublesome knot between your shoulders.

 “Right. I always try and get in here before a premiere or after I get back from filming.”

 You were in such a relaxed bliss that you couldn’t answer. After the massages you guys got facials, time in the sauna, hot stones, scalp massages and deep conditioner treatments, and lastly some time in massage chairs that practically cradled you. They even gave you real fruit smoothies with nutrition boots.

 “I think I could get use to all this.” You sighed, closing your eyes. “This is truly the most relaxed I have felt in years.”

 “Told you. I don’t normally go all out, but I felt like this was definitely needed. Tomorrow being your first premier and all.”

 “Well, thank you Z. I appreciate it. I just hope Tom isn’t too bored at home because I feel like I’ll be doing some more of this in the future.”

 She laughed, reaching for her own drink. “I’m sure Toms fine by himself.”

 “You’re right. Tessa has probably already tired him out.”

 And you were right. When you got back to Toms, him and Tessa were asleep on the couch. You quickly snapped a picture before carefully wiggling your way under Toms arm and joining in on the nap.

 The next morning was a lazy one. No one in the house wanted to do much before the premiere so you guys had oatmeal and fruit for breakfast and then watched tv till it was time for you to leave for Zendaya's house.

 “Ugh,” Tom groaned, wrapping you in his arms. “It’s unfair that you aren’t getting ready here. And it’s worse that we aren’t riding together.” He dropped his head to the crook of your neck.

 “Awh. I know. But it’ll make the surprise that much better. For the press and for you.” You stroked your hand over his head.

 He kissed your neck gently before pulling up to face you. “Oh it’ll be a surprise all right.” He sighed and pulled you in for a long, slow kiss.

 The horn outside pulled you away. “I have to go. I love you.” You kissed him once more and opened the door.

 “I love you tooooooooo.” He called, watching you till the car pulled away.  

 When you got to Zendayas, you went around back as instructed and it was like walking into a makeup store. There were two vanity’s set up, covered with makeup, and two clothing racks. One overflowing with dresses, the other had yours hanging by itself.

 “Woah.” You took it all in as Zendaya laughed from her chair.

 “Trust me you won’t get use to this.”

 “Julie is going to kick herself for missing this.” You poked around the makeup before looking at all the dresses.

 “You can call her on my laptop. Put the call on the tv so the screen isn’t so small.” Z said, setting it up.

 Julie answered on the first ring. “O M G I MISS YOU GUYS!”

 You and Z both laughed. “We miss you too.” You said. “I wish you were here here, but this will work.”

 “Best believe I have the red carpet live stream ready.” She said with a wink.

 Once the three of you caught up, you started getting ready. It was like playing dress up, only you weren’t trying on your mother's heals. You went with a simple Smokey eye, and curls with your hair half up and some flower accessories that matched your dress. When you were ready, you spun around to show it off to Julie.

 “Oh, Y/N, you look so beautiful!” She gushed, clearly taking a screenshot.

 “She’s right. Toms going to be speechless.” Z said, emerging from the closet in the dress she'd picked.

 “Zendaya, you look amazing oh my god.” You said, Julie was nodding behind you.

 “Not as good as you.” She laughed, looking down at herself. She was wearing a long spaghetti strapped dress with a simple black top but a flowing multi colored bottom that looked like it was water colored.

 “Better honestly.” You said, crouching down to take some pictures of her.

 After the two of you took photos of each other and together, including Julie making faces in the background, you said goodbye and headed out.

 Following the plan, you and Zendaya were in the car behind Tom and Harrison. Tom kept snapping you, trying to get a peek at your dress, but you just responded with close ups of you face or with pictures of Zendaya. Though he was being difficult in the dress department. He kept sending texts of encouragement to calm your nerves. And it worked, up till it was your turn to get out.

 “I can’t.” You said. Eyes wide as you looked back at Zendaya. You were shaking slightly and your stomach was knotted.

 She grabbed your hand, pointing out the window to Tom who was getting his picture taken. “Just look at him. Okay. Just focus on Tom and it’ll be alright. All you have to do is stick with him. Harrison is just ahead and I’ll be right behind you, okay.”

 You took a deep breath and nodded, pushing the door opened and instantly being hit with screams from the crowd. Someone helped you out, and you took a few steps to make room for Zendaya. Once she was out the crowd was even louder with screams of her name.

 “Look.” She laughed, nodding her head to Tom, who was stood with his mouth dropped open as he looked you up and down. “Go.” She gently nudged.

 And so you walked, lights flashing and people cheering. But you were only focused on Tom (and not tripping over your heals). As you got closer, he closed his mouth, licking his lips and holding an arm up for you.

 “You look absolutely stunning.” He said when were closer. “Just, beautiful.” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss. If you thought the crowd was loud before, it was even louder now. All eyes were on you and Tom. The first public appearance as a couple after all the speculation of who Tom’s Soulmate was, here you were. “Hi.” He smiled when he pulled away.

 You giggled. “Hi.”

 “Are you ready?” He asked, rubbing your arm.

 “With you, I’m ready for anything.” You pecked his lips once more and intertwined your fingers.

 The first few interviews were a blur. So much was happening you weren’t sure what to do, say, or where to look. But Tom kept you close, never going more than an arms length away. When you walked up to an interviewer who had just finished talking to Harrison they stopped.

 “Would you guys mind if we waited a moment for Zendaya, I had some questions for the both of you.” Tom nodded. “Awesome. Thank you. Also, congratulations.”

 “Thank you.” Tom smiled, then looked at you. “How are you doing?” He whispered, placing a kiss on your cheek.

 “I’m alright. It’s a bit more than I expected but I’ll be alright.” You smiled at him and rubbed a hand on his back.

 “Hey!” Zendaya greeted, giving you and Tom hugs.

 The interviewer greeted her with a smile before starting on the questions. They talked about the chemistry on set, and what it was like filming with Jake. A few questions were asked about you and Tom, but they kept mostly to the movie. Once all the questions were asked, Tom and you shook the interviewers hand and went to wait for Zendaya. But the moment they touched, something changed.

 “Woah.” Zendaya said, looking up, then back at their joined hands.

 Your mouth dropped opened and you patted Tom then whispered. “I think we should give them a moment.”

 “Wha-..” He started, before watching Zendaya look at her hand. “Oh. Oh! She..” Tom dropped his voice. “She just met her Soulmate. Oh my god.” He was beaming as he followed your lead down the carpet.

 The next half hour went by fast. Somewhere along the way Zendaya caught back up, with a whispered promise to fill you in when the carpet was done. At the end, there was a big stage setup where all the cast was going to answer some questions.

 “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Tom asked, for the third time.

 You kissed him before answering. “Yes my love. I’ll be fine. Go.” You shooed. Taking a seat in the chair that someone had brought for you.

 The questions were much the same as all the others, but they answered them with smiles. It was nice to see them all together, seeing the bond that had been formed over the past two movies.

 You were pulled from your thoughts at the mention of your name.

 “Yes. It’s true. Her name is Y/N and she’s truly amazing. Actually.” He stood up, walking over to the stairs. “Babe. Can you come up here?”

 “I..” You looked at the people standing around and the cameras. “Tom.” You bit your lip.

 “Just for a second. Please. Then you can come back.” He was giving you such a face that you couldn’t say no.

 You walked up the steps and took his outstretched hand. Following him to the center of the stage. When you looked out at the audience you couldn’t believe it. There in the very front was Julie, Mitch, your family and Tom’s all smiling and waving.

 “What are they doing here?” You asked, looking over to find Tom looking at you with so much love it made your heart hurt.

 “Y/N. I love you. Everyday with you as been the best day of my life. Ever since I saw you in that hotel room when we found each other for a second time I knew, soulmate or not, that you would be important to me. I’m so glad that the universe put us together, and when I think about the future I get unbelievably happy. There’s just one thing I need to know though.” He reached in his pocket and dropped to one knee and the audience gasped. You had tears streaming down your face and when he opened the box you almost couldn’t breath. “Y/N, will you spend the rest of your life with me as an official Holland?” The ring was beautiful, simple but shiny, exactly what you’d always pictured.

 “Yes. Yes Tom. Yes.” You gasped, nodding your head and grabbing his face for a kiss.

 Everyone was up and cheering. Lights were flashing everywhere. But all you could focus on was Tom, and the new feeling of the ring on your finger.

 “Well everyone! I think that was a good way to end this Q&A. Congratulations to Tom and Y/N!”

 Zendaya and Harrison were the first to you, hugging and congratulating you.

 “Honestly, this was kinda hard to keep secret.” Harrison said, kissing your cheek. “That’s partly why I’ve been lowkey avoiding you because I was so happy I’d spill.”

 Before you could respond your family and his joined you guys on stage.

 “Did you all know?” You asked, hugging everyone.

 “Yes” came almost in unison. Everyone was laughing and hugging.

 “Who do you think helped him pick out the ring?” Julie laughed, admiring it on your finger. “God it’s perfect.”

 Zendaya agreed, gently touching it.

 “So the spa trip?”

 “Was to get you out of the house. Also I wanted you to look as refreshed and relaxed for today.”

 “God.” You sighed, looking at everyone standing around. “I love you all.”

 “Sorry guys,” a voice timidity spoke as a person with an earpiece came over. “It’s time to go in for the movie.”

 Everyone nodded and followed.

 “Ready to go, Mrs. Holland?” Tom asked, holding a hand out.

 You intertwined your fingers. “With you, I’m ready for anything. Mr. Holland.”

A/N2: Thank you again for reading this series. It means so much to me.

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