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gravelyhumerus · 4 years ago

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Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter Thirteen

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away” Relationship: Jemily

Rating: Explicit Summary: Foxes, lattes, churches and resolutions.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

The first thing she noticed was the snow. It was falling down on her, hitting her skin with pinpricks of ice cold. She wandered through the bookshelves, searching for something. She wasn’t sure what for.

It didn’t normally snow inside the library, but that didn’t seem to matter to her.

The snow crunched beneath her feet as she turned down another row of books, past the history section and stepping over a stack of books on the floor that was left there by some other student. To her left was a row of empty desks. It was just Emily and the books.

But, Emily didn’t feel peaceful. Something inside of her told her that she couldn’t wait around, she needed to do something, find something.

Emily trudged through the snow. Was she searching for a spot to sit and study? Was she searching for a book? When she found it, she would know.

She turned down a corridor, looking up and down the tall bookcases, her eyes skimming along the spines. They were old leather bound tomes, in rich oranges, blues and reds. They looked as if they hadn’t been read in decades. She searched for something she recognized, but nothing made sense to her as she couldn’t make out the titles or authors.

Out of frustration, she turned away to stomp back down the row, but something stopped her in her tracks.

Emily blinked at the image in front of her. It was a fox standing in the middle of the fiction section, looking at her expectantly. It was as if he had climbed out of one of the books and materialized before her eyes.

“Bonjour,” Emily said, kneeling down before the animal.

“Bonjour,” said the fox.

Emily looked around, confused at the appearance of the animal. What was a fox doing in a library? When she looked back, he was gone.

She looked around.

“Je suis là,” came the voice, from between two books, announcing his presence on the adjacent shelf.

“Qui es-tu?” Emily asked, wondering who he was—or what he was—and what on earth he was doing here in her college’s library.

“Je suis un renard,” said the fox. He was a fox. No shit.

She blinked at him, trying to figure out what she was remembering. The fox was familiar. She had seen him before… or read about him before.

It was just like out of Le Petit Prince—the book that JJ had given her for her birthday. The book was a classic children’s novel, one that Emily had read many times. It was as if the character had simply stepped out of the book.

The book was about a little boy who lived on an asteroid and was in love with a rose. He went on an adventure through space before landing on Earth. There, he befriended a fox. Emily could picture the simple watercolour illustration of the small boy prince speaking to the fox. She could almost feel the pages of the book between her fingers. She smiled as she thought of JJ’s excited face as Emily unwrapped the present a few weeks back.

This fox, like in the book, was speaking to her. She racked her brain for what she was supposed to say.

“What am I doing here?” Emily asked, this time in English.

“Je ne puis pas jouer avec toi,” said the fox, which was not the answer to her question, since he had told her that he couldn’t play with her. “Je ne suis pas apprivoisé."

I am not tamed, he said. He has not yet been tamed. Emily remembered now what she must say.

“What does tamed mean?” she asked, in French.

The fox jumped down from the bookshelf and walked through the library, his small paws leaving prints in the white snow. He was bright red against the ground and easy to follow through the familiar stacks. Emily noticed that she wasn’t cold, despite the weather, even as her breath came out in puffs that lingered in the air.

“It’s something that’s been too often neglected. It means ‘to create ties’... but you know this.”

Emily remembered this part, he was right. In the book, the boy doesn’t know what taming means, how to create ties with the wild animal. He does not yet know the meaning of friendship.

The novel was filled with layers of metaphor. It spoke to childhood, love, loss and the power of the imagination. Emily’s copy sat next to her bed, and she had been looking through it before she fell asleep that night.

The fox crept through the seemingly endless bookshelves, his tail swishing back and forth as he walked. Emily tried to keep up, but he seemed to weave through the library with a practised ease.

The fox stopped. He hopped onto a desk and curled his tail in front of him. He cocked his head and looked at her expectantly.

“Your person has run from you, correct?”

Emily stared at him. This part was not in the book. She nodded after a moment.

“I ran from my boy at first, too.”

She remembered this part: in the novel, the young boy wanted to befriend the fox. But he was impatient. The fox explained that it would take time, that the boy would have to return over multiple days to build his trust. The boy would begin sitting far from the fox, not even making eye contact. Over time, he could move closer and closer until they finally could play together. Their friendship could only be forged over time.

“Were you scared?” Emily asked.

“At first,” he replied. “But he was patient. And persistent.”

The fox swished his tail, then continued: “At times, my heart was not yet ready to greet him.”

“How did the little prince finally tame you?”

He did not answer the question, as she already knew the answer, instead he said: “Words are the source of misunderstandings.”

“Was it all worth it? Even though he left you in the end?” Emily asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, then looked off into the distance, almost wistfully.

“Here is my secret,” he said. “It’s a very simple secret: it is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."

“On ne voit qu'avec le cœur," Emily repeated. She knew this line by heart. It was better in French.

The fox disappeared into the books and Emily was left alone in the empty library. His words filled her mind.

Words are the source of misunderstandings. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly.

Emily woke up to the sound of her alarm blaring in her ear. She was curled up on her bed, on her side. Her blankets had fallen onto the floor, and she was close to shivering in the chill air. She slammed her hand onto her phone and fumbled until she turned off her alarm.

It was a dream. A vivid dream. She didn’t normally get those.

She stretched, her neck sore after sleeping at a weird angle. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the convoluted dream that was still clear in her mind. Somehow, even after all she had done to distract herself, JJ still was a key figure in her unconscious brain.

Emily needed to move on from that, focus on school. She couldn’t dwell on what she couldn’t control. She was an expert at pretending everything was okay; she had held herself together through worse.

She stared out the window. Instead of the white snow that had been so crisp and bright in her dream, outside was grey and dreary. She couldn’t see any hint of precipitation, frozen or otherwise, just dead grass and wet asphalt. The trees were bare as the leaves had fallen and been raked up last month, and there was salt on the roads in anticipation of the freezing temperatures.

Emily methodically dressed, donning a pair of jeans and a dark green button up shirt, pulling a sweater on top to combat the chill. She then played some music on her laptop. She focused on the lyrics, allowing her mind to go blank.

She sat in front of the mirror on her desk, carefully applying her makeup. There was something about a swoop of liquid eyeliner that made everything feel okay. At least, more okay than they used to be. If she looked put together, maybe she would feel like it, too.

Emily rarely remembered her dreams and she really wasn’t used to having to think too hard about her subconscious. All that was very Freudian, anyways. She wrote the dream off as her sleep-deprived brain mixed with reading before bed.

She donned her warmest leather jacket, the one with sherpa lining on the collar and tugged a mustard yellow beanie onto her head. Then, she lifted her tote bag onto her shoulders, and put her headphones into her ears, turning the volume up high, hoping that she could drown it all out.

During her lecture, Emily didn’t retain a single word her professor said. She mindlessly typed her notes, completely zoned out the entire time. She wondered if the words on her screen made any sense, but decided that it must be an issue for a future version of herself. This was probably a bad idea, as it was just about finals season and her exams were fast approaching.

Her mind was elsewhere: thinking about the blonde who lived across the hall. At times, Emily thought about their kiss, or imagined holding her hand, or holding her body. Then, as her daydreaming gave way to reality, she remembered the anxiety as JJ ignored her texts. She remembered JJ ending it one day, then coming back from a hookup mere days later.

Every day that week, as Emily walked down the hall, a part of her wanted to knock on JJ’s door, like she used to, just to say hi. Beyond everything else, Emily missed JJ. She missed laughing over dinner, studying French, or even lounging in one of their dorm rooms, doing nothing and talking for hours. She missed the way she smelled and her soft touch and her big blue eyes. She missed JJ’s kindness, how she would remember little details about Emily, and how she would knock her shoulder against Emily’s to get her attention. Emily missed her friend.

But the hurt was still there, and it overpowered her longing. The hallway reminded her of JJ’s words, her breaking it off, the tears in her eyes.

Emily hadn’t seen her since, with JJ doing an amazing job at avoiding her.

As soon as her class was over, she walked off of campus, heading straight to her favourite cafe downtown. It was usually busy this time of day, but she hoped the crowd would keep her from wallowing and make her focus on her work. Campus was inextricably tied to JJ. The field reminded her of JJ’s soccer games, the library of their study dates, the cafeteria of their group dinners and even the quad made her think of the time she almost ran JJ over with her skateboard when she was distracted.

Emily sat at the long sandy wood table and sipped her latte as she opened her laptop.

Members of the Prentiss family were extremely talented at pretending things were normal, that everything was fine, and Emily was no exception. She had tucked all the hurt, all the confusion, into a neat little box in the back of her mind. Storing it away until she could deal with it.

She typed away at one of her essays, only taking pauses to sip her coffee. She was busy finding sources and working on integrating quotes to develop her argument. She enjoyed the sound of her keyboard clacking, adding to the din of the cafe.

Her phone was tucked neatly away in her pocket. While there was a noticeable silence in their group chat—the one with both Emily and JJ in it—Emily’s phone seemed to be constantly pinging with messages. Derek was checking in on her, Penelope seemed to be trying to distract her, even Hotch had sent her a message to make sure she was ok. If Reid had a cellphone, she knew he’d be doing the same. Sometimes she got messages from Penelope’s number that was signed by the younger boy. Somehow, the whole world seemed to have known exactly what had happened between her and JJ.

The sun was setting faster and faster these days, and by five, it was creeping below the horizon. At this point, she had most of her essay drafted, so it felt like a good enough time to call it quits. Anyways, her back was starting to get sore from the minimalist chair and all she really wanted to do was curl up in her bed again.

Emily packed up her bag, depositing her empty mug on the counter, nodding at the barista before leaving.

She took the long way home, walking along the river and listening to her music, trying to clear her mind. She pulled her hood up against the cool air.

She walked for five minutes before slowing as she came upon a church that she had passed before. Instead of continuing along her way back to her dorm, something made her pause.

Lights lit up the facade: a red brick building that stretched up into the sky with a pointed bell tower in the centre. Columns graced the front, standing strong on either side of the large, wooden doorway.

Emily stared at it. It was simultaneously familiar and foriegn. Emily had spent almost every Sunday in church, be it Sunday school or mass with her mother. No matter where they were in the world, there was always at least one church in the city that they could attend.

In Rome, their visits had only gotten more frequent, as after school, she and Matthew would wander the Renaissance churches around the city, admiring the architecture and discussing theology and morality and free will.

Something came over her in that moment, and she found herself wandering up the steps, trying the door to see if it was unlocked. The door swung open easily, and for a moment Emily thought about walking in. She thought about kneeling before the cross and going through the familiar motions of prayer.

She thought about asking God about JJ, about what was going on, praying for guidance on what to do. She could picture the way the light would dance through the stained glass window, she could feel wooden pew under her knees, she could almost mouth the words of her prayer.

She thought of St. Georgia, her confirmation saint. She thought of her life of solitude, and how that almost sounded nice. Young Emily had thought the same thing.

She thought about the mass that she sat in her pew, with tears in her eyes, as the priest talked about how being gay was a sin. She thought about how her mother repeated those words when she came out at sixteen.

She let the door close without entering, before walking away, longing for the feeling of the wind on her face instead of the dusty smell of incense.

It had been years since she had set foot in church. The last time had been in Rome, the day she walked in with Matthew, before… well there was no before. It just was. Her pregnancy had triggered something in both of them, questions about the church that could not be prayed away.

Emily clenched her fists, her short nails digging into her palms. She remembered the way Matthew had held her hand at the doctor’s, and held her as she fought back tears, and walked arm in arm into the church in defiance of the priest.

After, their questions hadn’t subsided. Matthew read and read and read and the more he learned, the more the church transformed the place of safety and solace to something neither teen could stand behind.

Still, she missed her childhood certainty. She missed the feeling of a power greater than herself watching over her. She missed the singing—though she would never admit it—she had really enjoyed being in the choir. She missed how her mother would sit next to her, how it was often the longest time she got to spend with her busy mom.

Emily shook her head, fighting back the memories, and turned up her music and continued her walk home. She dug around in her backpack for a lighter and her pack of cigarettes. Fumbling for a moment, she lit one and breathed in the dark smoke.

The wind was biting and her leather jacket did little to keep the cold from creeping into her bones. As the sun was setting, Emily began to shiver.

After dragging her walk out as long as she could, she finally went back to her dorm. Her hands were iced cold and she was shivering. She dropped her backpack on the floor before collapsing onto her bed. She checked her phone to find a missed call from Derek.

She called him back, knowing that he was likely to pick up from only down the hall.

“Hey,” she said. She felt suddenly tired, and wondered whether he would pick up on that.

“Hey Prentiss,” Derek said. “How’s it going?”

“I’m fine,” Emily lied.

“No you’re not,” his voice came through the phone, and from the hallway, and he knocked once before opening her door.

Emily sat up, looking over to him in surprise. As if he owned the place, Derek walked over and sat down on her desk chair, letting it spin with the motion of his body.

“We’re ordering take out,” Derek said, “You can’t survive on coffee.”

“I can try,” Emily muttered.

“Pizza?” Derek proposed.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Bullshit,” he said. “You’ve been avoiding the cafeteria.”

Emily crossed her arms. Derek was good at making her feel better, pushing her to take care of herself without forcing her to talk about her feelings. He was a private person, and so he never went too far, knowing that there were lines that neither of them crossed.

“Thai?” he said with a sly look in his eye, he knew she couldn’t refuse.

“Ok fine,” she gave up, “You know what I like.”

“That I do,” he said, dialling his phone and calling the local family-run Thai restaurant for delivery.

Forty minutes later the two of them were eating curry and watching The X-Files on Emily’s laptop. They were sprawled out on the floor, both scooping rice into their mouths as they discussed the plot of the episode—aliens—and whether or not they actually believed in them.

Emily didn’t realize how hungry she had been and struggled to remember the last full meal she had eaten.

After she had finished, she felt slightly more human, slightly less out of it. Still sad, but being sad on a full stomach, sitting next to her best friend and watching her favourite tv show was a bit more bearable.

“I just don't get it,” Emily blurted, surprising herself as the words fell out of her mouth.

“Yeah,” Derek replied, “What’s the point of probing? Don’t they have good enough technology that they could just scan someone and know what’s up?”

“I mean, yeah,” Emily said with a laugh, “But I was talking about JJ.”

She paused.

“Did I push too hard?” Emily mused, “Was it my fault?”

Emily didn’t plan to vent to Derek. She hadn’t really told him the details yet, as she was still embarrassed after Thanksgiving weekend. Telling Derek’s entire family about how she had a girlfriend and then immediately getting dumped was not great for the ego.

She learned early that it was safer keeping things to herself.

Emily had done just about anything to fit in when she was younger. She was desperate to be normal. To be someone that wasn’t the weird queer girl that moved around a lot. She learned languages, learned cultures. She learned how to wear the right clothes, say the right thing. She tried so, so hard to be normal, and yet she never seemed to do it right.

In her senior year, Emily finally gave up. She dyed her hair, did her make up in a way she knew enraged her mother, and dressed the exact opposite of what the other kids did.

Since then, Emily was trying to focus on being herself. Derek was her first friend to really accept her for her, and over the past year and a half, she felt herself beginning to relax around him. In her second year at college, she was no longer the new kid.

She had started to feel comfortable with him, and all of their new friends, so she was kicking herself for letting things with JJ blow up in her face. She should have known this was all too good to be true.

“Em,” Derek said, “You can’t blame yourself. There’s definitely more going on with her that we don’t know.”

“Did Pen say something?” Emily said hopefully.

“I don’t know,” Derek said, rubbing the back of his neck, “She hasn’t said anything outright, ‘cause, y’know it’s all so complicated. We’re friends with both of you. But she made it seem like it wasn’t just you.”

Emily gulped at the guilt she felt when she thought of how all of this with JJ must be hurting her friends. They had all gotten so close this semester, and she hated the thought of ruining it for everyone.

“It’s not you, it’s me,” Emily said with a sardonic laugh.

“Essentially,” he said.

“Look Prentiss,” Derek said, “I think this is just a hiccup. You’ll figure it out. You two just need to talk and stop running from each other.”

“How do I get her to stop running from me?” Emily asked, her dream vivid in her mind once again.

“Wait it out,” he said, “She’ll come back to you eventually. For now, eat some mango.”

He offered her the dessert, some mango and sticky rice that they had gotten to share. Emily took some with a grin.

She could wait. JJ was worth waiting for.

———

Emily was almost ready for bed when she heard a knock at her door. Derek had stayed for most of the evening, watching tv and talking for hours to keep her mind off of things. He had wandered out around nine, as he had an early practise the next morning.

She was just about to get undressed after brushing her teeth and washing her face. She stood in the centre of her room with her fly half undone as she heard the sound. She zipped her pants back up and walked to her door, unlocking it, expecting to see Derek returning for something that he had forgotten. Instead, she was face to face with Jennifer Jareau.

“Hi,” JJ said. “Can we talk?”

In JJ’s hands was a large tin filled with homemade chocolate chip cookies. They were piled high in the tin, perfectly baked with picturesque chocolate chips still warm from the oven. On JJ’s face was a nervous expression as she held out the gift for Emily to take.

Emily stood and stared at JJ, wondering if she was real or if she had finally snapped and was hallucinating.

A moment passed. JJ smiled nervously at her, big blue eyes boring into Emily’s own.

Emily took the cookies.

#criminal minds #cm #criminal minds tv #jemily #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #jemily cm #jj x emily #emily prentiss x jennifer jareau #fanfiction #fanfic #jemily fanfiction #gravelyhumerus cm college au #my post #my writing #sweater weather au #sorry for the delay!!!!#life got in the way

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aliypop · 3 years ago

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Blood Lust 4

Word Count : 2,199

Warning: Mentions of abuse, Gore

A/N : Part 4 baby!! WOOO this is dedicated to @pitiful-anonymous-vampire

"Can you tell us about your childhood?" Angelica mumbled, "If you still remember it?" she looked at her wide-eyed sister, "I don't know if you all would be interested..." Tiffany trailed off with a smirk as the boys changed their seats and got ever so comfortable,

"Tiff, you gotta tell us, we wanna know!" Paul pouted as Tiffany laughed, "Alright, alright!

"Well, I was born in New York in 1771 to an enslaved woman named Isabella and a creole Duke named Ashton..." She smiled, looking over at Angelica, "Who that little one knows as mom and dad." Tiffany chuckled, resting her hands over her stomach,

"You see, my story starts in Louisiana 1776. I was just five years old, just a Magnolia seed, if you will." Tucked away in the French quarters was a Plantation house of ivory white fixtures and magnolia trees lining the entrance all the way up to the door. As a carriage pulled away, Standing there was a little girl dressed in the rags of a slave with dirt on her face, who stood behind a tall man dressed as a general of some sort. "Tu es en sécurité ici.." he said, gesturing for her to walk in, hesitant to grab his hand. He could tell that she was still scared. "I assure you it's fine." he winked at the child, watching as she made small strides to the door. Surrounding her were vampires of high society of all backgrounds draped in rubies, emerald. She could hear them whisper and gossip, hoping it wasn't about her. As she walked further, she could feel red velvet drapes pool at her feet while in her line of sight, cups of porcelain and pots of silver with cups of fine "wine" poured in them sat close by on a table.

"Mon garçon tu m'as retourné aussitôt." said a woman, her golden curls pinned in a high roll as a blue feather plume stuck out from it, she was elegant, and she was beautiful,

She was " Countess Elizabeth Liru, ma fille.." she extended her pale hand to the young girl. Watching her flench at the gesture, Elizabeth could sense her pain already, a wounded bird not yet ready to fly, unlike how her father was. " I'll not harm you a bit," she said, "Nay, will they..." gesturing towards the others that were gathering around.

The younger girl only nodded as she slowly peaked from behind the man's legs, dark curls askew from behind him.

" Ma fille, what do they call you..." her piercing blue eyes focused on the small brown ones looking back at her. The young girl's voice was hoarse from the endless nights of screaming and the pain from being passed down from person to person.

"Tiffany, Ma'am ..."

"Haven't you a last name..."

"No, ma'am..." she looked down at her dirtied-up feet.

"She looks like a Monroe..." a young girl around her age said, golden curls held back by a bow. "That's what we'll call you... Madame Tiffany Monroe."

"So they picked your last name?" David asked, a bit surprised, "Yeah, it was kind of a thing back then, sort of like naming property... but Elizabeth also picked out my life..." she laughed,

"Lace! countess lace is the returning rage all the women of the court are wearing it!" Fatima said, sticking pins into the dress. Fatima had been a seamstress since the beginning of time and enjoyed what she did. As her pink powered wig sat on top of her head, Tiffany stood there giggling, watching as Elizabeth and Fatima argued about the appeal of her dress.

" C'est de la merde putain!" Elizabeth growled.

"Ta mère était une pute !" Fatima rolled her eyes, continuing her creation, "I have you know I've dressed queens and kings and even Shakespeare's company..." Fatima scowled at Elizabeth.

"I had a Hans Holbein Portrait!"

"We all had one..." Fatima sang, "Don't move, Cherie," she mumbled, sewing the lace trim around her sleeves. It was the last finishing touch before she was to be shown off to the rest of the court like a doll,

Pink cotton with a gold satin ribbon trimmed stomacher. Tiffany stood there in the mirror as she gave it a twirl, still a bit sad. Fatima could sense it. She missed her mother, but some things could not be. Taking her hand, Elizabeth led her into the dining room as all eyes were on her.

" Belle fille!"

"Une telle poupée..."

"Elle est Magnifique!"

"Was all I heard... to everyone around I was a little a doll..." she looked down at Marko, "I was nothing more, but when you're five, that's all they know you for..." Tiffany laughed, the sound of despair under her breath, "But there was always Fatima."

"Fatima, you talk a lot about her..." Jasper added, "Well, she was my mother's sire... and lover cursed my father because he took her from her..." she smirked, "But she practically got me out of trouble ..."

"You a troublemaker?" Dwayne laughed, "Who woulda known." Well, it was 1784, I was 13, the age where girls notice boys..." she grinned, "Men notice girls..." she mumbled as Paul held her hand. Tiffany sat in the Magnolia tree dirtied up in her new dress as Charlotte watched her, her golden hair much like her mother glistening in the hot summer sun. Looking up, all she saw were brown eyes looking down.

" Que fais-tu?" Charlotte asked,

"I'm a pirate, Mon ami, join me?" her hand stretched out as Charlotte grabbed on, her eyes locking with Tiffany. The two always had a sense of imagination, but they were getting older, and by Elizabeth, the two young girls were getting awfully close. "Take me away... my Capitaine..." she kissed Tiffany's hand. Tiffany had nearly frozen as she had later been brought back to reality by the poke of a branch. "What are you doing..." Tiffany asked,

" Sword fighting Cherie... my betrothed does it all the time to me."

"You're what?" she asked, sitting on one of the strong arms, her dress collecting even more dirt that would put Fatima in a rage. "Betrothed... I'll be marrying him someday..." she smiled, her heart already breaking, "Mother says it's time you get one too... and she found you someone suitable..." she held her hand. Tiffany looked down at her bare feet dropping from the tree as she ran off into the grand foyer, the Harpsichord playing untuned notes. Elizabeth moaned as her mouth was covered in blood, Tiffany standing there in fear as to what she had just seen,

"STOP IT" Tiffany tried to move but felt as though time stood still. A metal ring pointed under her neck, "You dirty unsightly little thing... I was almost through, and you ruined it, you petit avorton..." she growled, raising her hand as Fatima stood in front of her. Her skin was less full of wrinkles and more youthful as her hair was curly and black.

"You will not hit this child..." she growled,

"Then get it out of my sight..." Elizabeth pointed towards the stairs.

"And then what happened... " Angelica asked as a tear fell from Tiffany's eyes. " Well, I had a bath... my hair in a high roll... wearing fresh French silk and I went to a ball... I still remember Fatima singing to me..." she smiled, humming as Dwayne sat next to her, listening. Tiffany sat in the porcelain tub silently, Fatima washing her hair combing out dirt and leaves as she continued to sing an old french song about chickens. "What was mama like..." Tiffany asked, her teeth chattering, "Well, she was beautiful ..." Fatima smiled, stroking her hair, "She was kind and sweet... stern and stubborn someone I loved dearly..." she replied as Tiffany giggled,

"She wanted me to make sure you were taken care of..." Fatima sighed, washing the dirt off her face, "How did you get so dirty..."

"Playing pirates... with Charlotte ..." she mumbled as Fatima scrubbed her arms, "Like your father... Duke of ... well, I better not say... Let's get you dressed." Tiffany stood in her room as Fatima dressed her, placing a locket around her neck. As the carriage crept closer, Tiffany could feel her skin growing cold,

Draped in the purest of silk stood Charlotte and Tiffany eyeing down eligible bachelors while trying to get away from their betrothed. Golden curly hair resting on the shoulder of brown skin sending butterflies down to her stomach. " Je m'ennuie Tiffany ..." Charlotte pouted as Tiffany quirked her head up,

"As am I... perhaps we'll illumine la ville, what do you think?" taking the young girl's hands in her own. The two ran off into the gardens, away from the music and the snobbish gossipy people," You're as bright as the stars in a clear sky." Charlotte said, her voice a bit shaky, surrounded by roses. Tiffany could only see one in her view. But Tiffany knew what was on the other girls' minds. It was on hers as well...

"Charlotte, do you ever want to be a vampire..." Tiffany asked, placing roses in her hair,

"If it means you'll be my amant et compagnon." she kissed her cheek, "Then who am I to destroy what the fates want." she placed her hand on Tiffany's face. Her pearl's glowed in the night sky as the two stayed in a lover's embrace. They had been inseparable since they first locked eyes, but soon they'd become one, or so she hoped. As two men showed up pulling the two young lovers away, there became worse problems at hand. Tiffany sat in her bedroom weeping, scratching at her arms then at her hair as she still felt the sting of an abuser's first kiss on her lips, a dark purple bruise by her eye.

"Tiffany..." Fatima ran in, "What did she do to you...", her brown eyes were lifeless as if the soul of a child was left behind. Placing her hand on her cheek. Tiffany's gaze only looked down in shame as to what happened to her. "He... was... 27," Tiffany said, shaking, clinging onto Fatima for dear life, "Charlotte was lucky..." her heartbeat racing,

"What did you do to escape..." Jasper asked, the mood in the cave shifting.

"I ugh I bit him... I ran... I ran like hell back to that place..." Tiffany sighed, "But then again, wouldn't you..." she asked as Paul nodded. "My teen years were rocky... until I turned 20 did everything make sense."

"What do you mean the Duke isn't dead!" Elizabeth whispered. Fatima gave her a chuckle holding up letters from the Duke of the court. Tiffany, who was sitting by her door, listened as she snickered away at the news, "Your plan didn't work, Elizabeth, enslaving the Duchess ... and stealing their daughter was a useless tactic ..." Fatima crossed her arms, her white bow wig in place despite her anger,

"I... I don't know what you mean..."

"You betrayed us ... you paraded around here much too long! and now it's over..." she growled, her long nails gracing her Elizabeth's porcelain skin. Slashing through the skin. Tiffany sat there in bewilderment at what Fatima had just done. She committed a crime amongst Vampires by killing her own all for the sake of some measly vampire royalty. Rolling the body away in the ever so elegant velvet drapes, Fatima took the blood of Elizabeth from her fingers, giving it a taste, laughing as she knew the young girl was watching, "You'll want to get dressed for the arrival of your parents ..." she hummed,

"H- how did you I was here..."

"I hear everything, Cherie..." she winked.

"Don't you think this is too much..." Tiffany asked, looking in the mirror, "The pearls in my hair... the locket... and a choker with more pearls..." she asked, looking at the dress. There were pearls and bows on the silver bodice with the Diamonds on the stomacher, while her skirt was of the finest silk that money could buy.

"It's never too much when meeting your parents again..." Fatima smiled her black curls covered in matching Rubies much like her dress and necklace,

"Besides, tonight is your big night." she smiled as Tiffany gulped, scared of the pain that changing over would be if she'd ever see another daylight or perhaps even feel the sun of her skin.

"Announcing the return of her Grace Isabella..." one of the guards said,

"They're here..."

"What do I do!"

"Run..."

"Did you?"

"I ran like I was flying, everything to see the woman I was ripped apart from again..." she laughed, "I wanted to see her face and meet my father for the first time..." her hand rubbing her locket. "I wanted to see..."

"Your face..." Tiffany smiled, standing in front of her mother. Her eyes were just the same as the child she had bored. Isabella reached out towards her as she kissed her forehead, a tear falling from her face,

"It's been too long, my dear..." Fatima said, holding Isabella's hand.

"And then what happened..." Dwayne asked.

"Well, I was turned into a vampire..."

#the lost boys 1987 #paul the lost boys #the lost boys x oc #fanfic #dwayne the lost boys #marko the lost boys #david the lost boys #tiffany monroe the lost boys oc #angelica the lost boys oc #jasper the lost boys #new series

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engelhexe · 4 years ago

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50 Ways to Feel Better About Yourself

50 Ways to Feel Better About Yourself Right Now

by Sarah Lipoff Jan 5 2016

26.9K

When you're feeling down, turn things around with a few tips and tricks for thinking about things differently. No need to wallow when there are quick and simple ways to feel better about yourself. Feeling down can be triggered by a bad hair day, not being able to get over a mistake, or waking up 10 minutes late. Stop beating yourself up and try one of these suggestions:

Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and visualize things working out.

Give yourself a quick pep talk.

Get in front of a mirror or your phone and smile. While working your grin, take a minute to acknowledge your looks and appreciate your favorite part of your face. Selfies are a great form of self-care.

Write down five things that you are proud of and stick the list in your wallet to pull out to remind yourself that you're awesome.

Call a friend and tell her you're feeling down. Sometimes just admitting you're not feeling great makes things better instantly.

Watch a silly pet video.

Give yourself an at-home manicure with a color you regularly wouldn't wear and flaunt it.

Make a coffee date with a good friend and ask her what she likes about you.

Take a deep breath, acknowledge things aren't going your way, and move on with your day.

Stop with negative self-talk. Switch the thoughts of negativity to positive mantras, such as "I am a strong woman!"

Write out a list of goals that are realistic and carry them with you.

Put down your phone and pay attention to what's going on around you. Just spending a few moments appreciating nature, unique faces, and the hustle and bustle gets your mind off things.

Zen out and meditate. Close your eyes, take 10 deep breaths, and imagine something relaxing.

Stop comparing yourself to others! By trying to be similar to someone else, you're forgetting what's awesome about you.

You only get one body, so take care of it. Eat healthy, get some exercise, and you'll feel better in no time. And working out is a distraction from being in the dumps.

Arrange a personal shopping session at your favorite store and enjoy letting someone else dress you. There's no pressure to purchase any of the clothes, unless you want to treat yourself to something new.

Give yourself an at-home facial.

Go ahead and cry it out.

Write down what you're thankful for.

Take a walk by yourself. Stay in the moment, breathe in and out, and slow down.

Invite your friends over for a girls' night in.

Sing like no one can hear you. Really, it will change your mood in no time.

Talk to the person standing next to you in line. There's nothing to be afraid of — just make a bit of small talk, which is a fun way to connect with strangers and enjoy a laugh.

Clean your desk and start fresh.

Go through your closet and make a collection of clothes to donate. You'll feel better knowing your clothes will go to someone in need.

Give flowers to a good friend. The simple act of giving always lifts spirits.

Pet a dog or cat, which instantly calms nerves and lowers blood pressure.

Relive a favorite memory and hold on to the feeling.

Give someone a hug.

Smile big at a stranger. Once you start, it's hard to stop.

Put your shoulders back and act like you're walking the red carpet. Even though you're faking it, you'll help elevate your mood.

Do something different and change up your routine.

Grab your journal and write about what's bothering you.

Smell the flowers — or treat yourself to a stunning bouquet.

Stop thinking about that person you're crushing on and just ask them out!

Turn that frown upside down. Literally. Push negative thoughts to the side and think about something positive.

Plan the ultimate vacation, focusing on everything you want to do. Write down all the awesome places you'd like to explore and keep it handy when you need to focus on a better place.

Create a power board filled with pictures of yourself with loved ones along with inspirational words and images.

Forgive yourself. That's right. Stop giving yourself a hard time over things you can't control and give yourself a break.

Stop with should-have-could-have scenarios. You can't change the past, but you can put your best foot forward.

Indulge in something you love and remind yourself why it's one of your favorite things.

Love yourself and practice kindness.

Give up trying to be perfect and just be you.

Reflect on your accomplishments and acknowledge that you are pretty awesome.

Accomplish something on your to-do list.

Pick up a hobby.

Check out Positively Positive.

Remember it's OK to say "no" when you're feeling overwhelmed.

Challenge yourself to try something new.

Acknowledge your feelings. It's totally natural to feel insecure, and admitting it is courageous.

Image Source: POPSUGAR Photography / Matthew Barnes

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50 Möglichkeiten, sich besser zu fühlen

50 Möglichkeiten, sich jetzt besser zu fühlen

von Sarah Lipoff 5. Januar 2016

26,9K

Wenn Sie sich schlecht fühlen, drehen Sie die Dinge mit ein paar Tipps und Tricks um, um die Dinge anders zu denken. Sie müssen sich nicht suhlen, wenn es schnelle und einfache Möglichkeiten gibt, sich besser zu fühlen. Ein Gefühl des Niedergangs kann durch einen schlechten Tag ausgelöst werden, wenn Sie einen Fehler nicht überwinden können oder wenn Sie 10 Minuten zu spät aufwachen. Hören Sie auf, sich selbst zu verprügeln, und probieren Sie einen der folgenden Vorschläge aus:

Atmen Sie tief ein, schließen Sie die Augen und visualisieren Sie die Dinge, die funktionieren.

Gönnen Sie sich ein kurzes Gespräch.

Stellen Sie sich vor einen Spiegel oder Ihr Telefon und lächeln Sie. Nehmen Sie sich eine Minute Zeit, um Ihr Aussehen zu erkennen und Ihren Lieblingsteil Ihres Gesichts zu schätzen. Selfies sind eine großartige Form der Selbstpflege.

Schreiben Sie fünf Dinge auf, auf die Sie stolz sind, und stecken Sie die Liste in Ihre Brieftasche, um sich daran zu erinnern, dass Sie großartig sind.

Rufen Sie eine Freundin an und sagen Sie ihr, dass Sie sich schlecht fühlen. Manchmal wird es sofort besser, wenn man nur zugibt, dass man sich nicht gut fühlt.

Sehen Sie sich ein dummes Haustiervideo an.

Gönnen Sie sich eine Maniküre zu Hause mit einer Farbe, die Sie regelmäßig nicht tragen würden, und stellen Sie sie zur Schau.

Machen Sie ein Kaffee-Date mit einer guten Freundin und fragen Sie sie, was sie an Ihnen mag.

Atmen Sie tief ein, erkennen Sie an, dass die Dinge nicht in Ihre Richtung gehen, und fahren Sie mit Ihrem Tag fort.

Hör auf mit negativem Selbstgespräch. Schalten Sie die Gedanken der Negativität auf positive Mantras um, wie "Ich bin eine starke Frau!"

Schreiben Sie eine Liste realistischer Ziele auf und tragen Sie diese mit sich.

Legen Sie den Hörer auf und achten Sie darauf, was um Sie herum vor sich geht. Wenn Sie nur ein paar Momente damit verbringen, die Natur, die einzigartigen Gesichter und die Hektik zu schätzen, werden Sie von den Dingen abgelenkt.

Zen raus und meditiere. Schließen Sie die Augen, atmen Sie 10 Mal tief durch und stellen Sie sich etwas Entspannendes vor.

Hör auf dich mit anderen zu vergleichen! Wenn Sie versuchen, jemand anderem ähnlich zu sein, vergessen Sie, was an Ihnen großartig ist.

Du bekommst nur einen Körper, also pass auf dich auf. Essen Sie gesund, bewegen Sie sich und Sie werden sich in kürzester Zeit besser fühlen. Und trainieren ist eine Ablenkung davon, auf den Müllkippen zu sein.

Vereinbaren Sie einen persönlichen Einkauf in Ihrem Lieblingsgeschäft und lassen Sie sich von jemand anderem anziehen. Es besteht kein Druck, Kleidung zu kaufen, es sei denn, Sie möchten sich etwas Neues gönnen.

Gönnen Sie sich eine Gesichtsbehandlung zu Hause.

Gehen Sie voran und schreien Sie es aus.

Schreiben Sie auf, wofür Sie dankbar sind.

Machen Sie einen Spaziergang alleine. Bleiben Sie im Moment, atmen Sie ein und aus und verlangsamen Sie.

Laden Sie Ihre Freunde zu einer Mädchennacht ein.

Singe, als könnte dich niemand hören. Wirklich, es wird Ihre Stimmung in kürzester Zeit ändern.

Sprechen Sie mit der Person, die neben Ihnen in der Schlange steht. Es gibt nichts zu befürchten - machen Sie einfach ein bisschen Smalltalk, was eine unterhaltsame Art ist, mit Fremden in Kontakt zu treten und ein Lachen zu genießen.

Reinigen Sie Ihren Schreibtisch und fangen Sie neu an.

Gehen Sie durch Ihren Schrank und machen Sie eine Sammlung von Kleidungsstücken, um zu spenden. Sie werden sich besser fühlen, wenn Sie wissen, dass Ihre Kleidung an jemanden in Not geht.

Gib einem guten Freund Blumen. Der einfache Akt des Gebens hebt immer die Stimmung.

Streicheln Sie einen Hund oder eine Katze, die sofort die Nerven beruhigt und den Blutdruck senkt.

Erleben Sie eine Lieblingserinnerung noch einmal und halten Sie an dem Gefühl fest.

Umarme jemanden.

Lächle einen Fremden an. Sobald Sie anfangen, ist es schwer zu stoppen.

Legen Sie Ihre Schultern zurück und tun Sie so, als würden Sie über den roten Teppich laufen. Auch wenn Sie es vortäuschen, helfen Sie dabei, Ihre Stimmung zu verbessern.

Mach etwas anderes und ändere deine Routine.

Schnapp dir dein Tagebuch und schreibe darüber, was dich stört.

Riechen Sie die Blumen - oder gönnen Sie sich einen atemberaubenden Blumenstrauß.

Hören Sie auf, an die Person zu denken, auf die Sie sich verlieben, und fragen Sie sie einfach aus!

Drehen Sie das Stirnrunzeln um. Buchstäblich. Schieben Sie negative Gedanken zur Seite und denken Sie über etwas Positives nach.

Planen Sie den ultimativen Urlaub und konzentrieren Sie sich auf alles, was Sie tun möchten. Schreiben Sie alle fantastischen Orte auf, die Sie erkunden möchten, und halten Sie sie bereit, wenn Sie sich auf einen besseren Ort konzentrieren müssen.

Erstellen Sie ein Power Board mit Bildern von sich selbst und Ihren Lieben sowie inspirierenden Worten und Bildern.

Vergib dir selbst. Stimmt. Hören Sie auf, sich mit Dingen, die Sie nicht kontrollieren können, schwer zu tun, und gönnen Sie sich eine Pause.

Stoppen Sie mit Szenarien, die Sie haben sollten. Sie können die Vergangenheit nicht ändern, aber Sie können Ihren besten Fuß nach vorne bringen.

Gönnen Sie sich etwas, das Sie lieben, und erinnern Sie sich daran, warum es eines Ihrer Lieblingssachen ist.

Liebe dich selbst und übe Freundlichkeit.

Gib es auf, zu versuchen, perfekt zu sein und sei einfach du.

Denken Sie über Ihre Erfolge nach und erkennen Sie an, dass Sie ziemlich großartig sind.

Führen Sie etwas auf Ihrer To-Do-Liste aus.

Nimm ein Hobby auf.

Positiv positiv auschecken.

Denken Sie daran, dass es in Ordnung ist, "Nein" zu sagen, wenn Sie sich überfordert fühlen.

Fordern Sie sich heraus, etwas Neues auszuprobieren.

Bestätige deine Gefühle. Es ist ganz natürlich, sich unsicher zu fühlen, und zuzugeben, dass es mutig ist.

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countryshitposts · 5 years ago

Text

I Won’t Cry For You

Germany suffers alone.

Trigger Warnings: emotional, mental, and physical abuse, child abuse, vomiting, eating disorders, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt

"Frankreich please, I swear I really didn't hear it!" Germany reasons with his wife, his soft voice with reason has turned to a hysterical and almost-wail, but instead of convincing the woman in front of him it only gives him an uncomfortable glance and a shift of position, but her gaze becomes stern and firm, making Germany squirm a little.

"Allemagne, you were the only one left here in the office", France says in her 'mature and adult' voice; Italy would always try mimick it to make Germany feel better but now he wants to throw something - preferably soft - at her to distract her and run from this confrontation. "Surely you know what happened to why the safe is open and our money just vanished into thin air?"

Germany sputters a little; he tries to think of a good excuse to try and put himself in an innocent light - like he is - and stop Frankreich from tearing him apart piece by piece.

(He remembers all the eyes on him as he and his twin sister was revealed in this large crowd of cheering Germans, cheering for Reich and complimenting his 'children' and how East will hold his hand tighter when they are regarded as his. Ost had almost spoken out of a party, to answer a woman Third Reich, that cruel man, was not their father but West arrives in no time and ushers her into her bedroom to calm her down.

He wonders how she is doing behind the wall, seeing dozens of houses and buildings runny and downed. He stares at them for a moment, before moving on.)

"What, Allemagne, have nothing to say?" He hears her snicker and he shivers, remembering the cold room in the middle of the night with a gun on his fingers and Third Reich's laughs echoing in this closed room with absolutely no lights whatsoever. "I was right, and still am; you and your father are nothing but spineless cowards, only trying to stir trouble away from you but it doesn't and it comes back to bite you in the ass. Useless."

Germany's eyes widen, but he only keeps his eyes on the floor, lips trembling, tears threatening to spill out and screaming when they're not unleashed with a torrent, polished black shoes scratching the smooth and shiny floors with the light showing his thin, pathetic self.

(He hates the way his appearance was like- how it was all thin and delicate with no skin whatsoever and he'd try to change it but in the end he gets more and more hurt.)

But he cannot deny it; Frankreich is right of him. She is right, he is useless, he is nothing but another miserable soul in earth that was put there just to be another life form that sucks the air out of earth and waste it for his own gain. It is what Reich says; a spectre of useless things being thrown to the pages of the books being burned in the town square while others revel.

When France leaves, the tears in his eyes drop like rain; in tiny, unnoticeable small drops like a drizzle, before becoming more numerous and backing sheer amount of size as it becomes a waterfall in his face.

West silently walks his way into the building, ignoring the thrums of people he passes and they ignore him too, an invisible spec of light to behold. He opens the door to the office, and, much contradictory to the silent spell he is creating. He sits besides Italy, who was talking to Greece and not paying the slightest bit attention to him. Then again, he has always been invisible until he speaks, and that it when everyone would yelp and remember and regard that he was, in fact, there.

He opens his documents to observe the requirements of the day, pen full of ink as he starts to scribble the daily memoirs for the day. He tunes out for a little, not listening to the dramatics of everyone, the little hand waves everyone would do every so often but he does not pay attention to the slightest bit of movement or word.

That is, until, France ruins this moment of serenity.

"Allemagne was the only person in the building when the alleged crime scene happened", France says, and West's handwriting turns ugly for a bit before going back to its default style, his hands still shaking. "So, technically, that makes him our number one suspect."

He stops writing, as he feels everyone's eyes upon him, and he looks down at the ground, hating the confrontation happening, remembering the audience's eyes on he and Ost as Reich parades them in town, looking proud and almighty.

(Reich had beckoned him to sit with he and his allies, once. Reich asks West many a question to the point he could not keep up with all of them and stumbles on his words; Reich had called him an underdeveloped child and sends him on his way, but the pang was still there.

It always is.)

"Frankreich, listen to me-"

"You can't just fabricate another alibi, West; sooner or later you're going to lie yourself into a corner and be done with it."

"Es tut mir leid Frankreich aber-", he falters; he questions to why he is speaking in German, despite the fact that everyone here despises him and one time France had hit him when he spoke in his tongue. He reasons it is due to his nervousness and anxiety, his whole body shaking but he tries not to show it.

(It was a complete reverse to what went on in Reich's household.)

The beads of sweat were basically hugging his skin, making it all warmer as he fans himself with his suit, silently asking how it had grown warmer in the course of minutes.

France laughs. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue le crètin?"

His heart stops; he remembers the insults that Reich had hurled in his way, remembering the hands and raising of fists and the cold and dark room in which he and that tyrant were always locked in as he tries not to spill any tears and minimise the shaking of his body, blonde hair covering his eyes.

He stands up, feeling his stomach plead to him for them to release the half-digested remains he had eaten in breakfast; scrapes of food he had found on his cupboards as he struggles. Germany throws a hard look at France, and, without waiting for her reaction to this, immediately runs out of the door, nausea in his veins.

He runs, his feet still light and nimble on the floors, making small squeaking sounds but wad not loud enough to alert anyone of a nearby person. He had practiced his light feet from sneaking out to meet Ost in her room, to taking food from Reich's plates and then for just not frightening or making anyone aware of his presence at all. His mouth was burning, bile covering his tongue like the millions of souls that Reich had murdered reaching out to him in his dreams.

(He had dreamt of them many times in the past, their screams of fury and horror, their protests and screams to make him confess that it was his fault, oh his fault. It is his fault that he had caused their deaths, and he tries to fight back and say he cannot do anything but they let out horrible and gruesome noises until he is on the floor, sobbing, covering his ears and confessing that yes, yes, he murdered them all.)

Germany opens the door to the bathroom, immediately running to the first stall - almost tripping - and hunches his back over the toilets, making retching sounds as his throat burns, bile creeping up his throat and seeing the remains of his breakfast in the toilet makes him vomit even more. He sobs a little, trying to compose himself, shaking even more after he unleashed a torrent of his remains. He shakes, as he stands, wiping the edges of his mouth with the back of his wrist, before looking at himself in the mirror.

He makes notes of his now messy blonde hair, sad green eyes showing how much he had cried this day, the messed up suit. Germany exits the bathroom, looking at the direction of the office where he had ran off to and the exit. He turns on his heel.

He has no motivation to go back to the meeting.

Germany desires for a drink, but he abstains from that thought; he cannot return to a meeting by simply being drunk, no, he would make an ass of himself even more, and will be the subject of ill-willed jokes for months. He would pass bars that offer the best of beers, but he shakes his head from that thought- he had also realised that he left his wallet in the coat rack at the front of the building, and he swears silently at the loss of it.

(At least he won't go wasting his fortune on little drinks, that is a plus.)

He finds a park bench he can sit in, looking absolutely miserable, not minding the others' staring and the looks they give of him, of him displaying the vibe of an employee who was fired from his job.

Germany would usually stare off into space if he cannot get the slightest bit of the revelries of being drunk- the way his eyes will dilate, his mind bring him into a different world just as bad as this one, and his limbs going slack as if he had fallen asleep in all of this. The voices in his mind would make him imagine gruesome thoughts, and he lets them control him like a puppet with strings, since that is what he is, right? Nothing more, nothing less. At least he would not deal with the consequences of a hangover in the morning, head pounding and stumbling as he makes his way downstairs and visit the pharmacy store to buy painkillers.

The guilt inside of him is easy to be played with, and he lets everyone take advantage to the softest of pleas to the most direct of them all.

He does not fight back as he gives them what he wants.

He stands from the bench, feeling himself drained from thinking of these thoughts. He throws a glance to the people at the park; elderly men and women feeding the ducks, young couples having their first dates in underneath the trees while the children are playing and their parents are setting up the picnic table in a relaxed manner.

Sometimes Germany wishes he can be as relaxed as them; not these contorted limbs that had always been aching and hurting and making him want to cut them off one by one until he is limbless.

Feeling utterly sick to his stomach, he leaves the park to go look for a way to calm himself down of the insult.

He breaths in- t'was just an insult; he has no right to get angry or sad or offended by it.

It just brings back some horrible memories.

But horrible memories are meant to be sidelined to make way for happier and joyous memories.

(It is bold enough to assume he even has one.)

And horrible memories shouldn't be brought up on the dinner table; that's just going to make everyone hate you more instead of pitying your sorry face.

So he keeps them bottled up; only using them as a leverage to get some exquisite excuses from his mind and sometimes his line of work, whenever it gets stressful for him to even function.

(He'd have days like these- days where he is plagued by the ultimate failure and outcome of his mind that he cannot even begin to process the fact that he has a life other than being sad and lonely and being mad for the fact that his father up and abandon them to snap and become the most evil man he has ever witnessed.)

West kicks a rather empty can back to where it had come from, an abandoned and moldy alley with no light coming from there. He stares at it for a little; how he had unknowingly kicked a priced vase from its foundation and how Reich had heard that shatter and immediately fumed once he sees West's frail figure trying to pick up the broken pieces of the vase but ends up cutting himself, pricking his fingers and drawing in an amount of blood. He had remembered the insults and words thrown onto his face as he tries not to cry, but he does and Reich even grows more furious, his hand raised to hit him.

But it never did, instead he was laughing and making fun of the way West's body quivers in fear and tells him he's only joking; no need to overreact.

But West knows that he will never hesitate to hit him even in his most simplest of mistakes.

He now desires for a smoke, but he has neither the cigarettes nor lighter to even light one- he swears once again, now really regretting not bringing his wallet with him. He wants to get blackout drunk by now.

He passes by a fine-dining restaurant, with everyone seeming like they are having a good time with their friends and family, and he pauses his feet, looking through the glass like it is an ideal dream- unreachable, yet it can exist if he can just try. He remembers his father, feeding he and Ost with the scrapes of food he finds in the streets, and he feels content with even the single particle enter his stomach. Then it is replaced by a memory of Reich giving him only a meal a day; if West ever dared step out of his boundaries he will never be given a meal that day and will be left to starve.

(West had objected to this the first few times, of course.

"Papa would let me eat despite the fact I broke a frame!", he had said in front of Reich, who was smoking a cigar, puffing out a cloud of smoke.

"The only frame you'd be breaking is yours- except for the fact, it is already broken." Reich laughs at his joke as West's eyes immediately go downward.)

He jolts at the sudden memory in his mind - stop giving him painful memories you useless sack of membrane - stepping backwards and landing onto somebody's arms, and he looks up to find a concerned man and woman - perhaps husband and wife - looking down at him.

"Are you alright, young man?", the man holding him asks, and West steels himself and gets up from where he was being aided from; he did not need to be babied, that perspective of his life had come to a close once his father had turned.

(Germany must confess, but he wanted to be held, nurtured, cared for and loved in someone's arms once again, back to the times someone actually loved him before two people had the complete and utter gall to take them away and place him in a different surrounding where his sister hates him and everyone is against him.)

"I'm fine", Germany replies to the man, stepping back a little, "just a little... dazed."

"It's just... you've been walking 'round the place with quite a solemn look, like something has been on your mind."

Germany shakes his head and smiles, knowing full well it is plastic. "Really, I am fine- I just have a lot of things in my mind right now."

The man nods, "All right, off we go then. I do hope that you sort out whatever issues you are dealing with right now." With that, the couple walks off; leaving Germany in his thoughts once again and completely solemn.

He wonders if there are any vacant high-scaled buildings he can break in in the middle of the night.

Germany wakes up screaming after a nightmare. He gets up from the bed, unconsciously throwing his nightly glass of water to the walls, its shattered wails of glass desecrating his night - or day, he has lost time really - and screams even more when he remembers the horrible sounds of shattered glass to the screams of his people running rampant to Ost telling him they both need to jump out the window to escape the wrath of the enemies. West throws his sheets upon himself, utterly shaking from head-to-toe, trying to make himself relax, all his joints swollen and throat in pain after the high screams from his nightmare.

(He doesn't remember his dream; all he knows was that at first everything was white and then it faded to a crimson red of the blood his alleged victims had owned and the blue-stains signifying his tears.)

West gets up from his bed and unwraps himself from his blankets, looking around cautiously like the ghost of the past has been left behind to haunt him forever. Yet the ghost of the past is him; he is a living memory of what Reich had done, and he will be the one to blame for the next century or so.

(Sometimes he'd jump back from a reflection of him- scared at how he looks so much like his father to the point it is rather jarring.)

West was not fond of handling steak or kitchen knives at three in the morning, with his skin full of thin lines are tingling underneath his long sleeves, thirsting for the sharp metal to bury deep into his skin but he denies them with all his might despite the fact he eyes it- eyes the way it shines underneath the kitchen's ceiling light, calling him, tempting him to come have a taste of what the knife can do.

He sighs a little before ultimately giving up at making himself a snack at three, knowing full well he could not trust himself with a knife. Or any sharp object in general.

He decides not to eat anything at all, remembering the way he vomited out contents of his stomach at a single mention of the awful and horrible things Reich had done. Of course, has not eaten anything since yesterday, preferring having an empty stomach retching over the toilet trying to spill its contents into the bowl than a full one- his appetite would immediately become lost.

So Germany blankly opens the television and spends the rest of his free time before going back to his work place of pure torture. Not like he'd find a good movie or show to watch; he sincerely thinks that real life was much more entertaining than a measly motion picture with scripted words and actions and romance to top it all off.

(The way he sees it, he feels as if the romance of all the complicated movies and series he has seen are rushed; a handsome, dashing man and a damsel in distress falling in love, kissing passionately at the very end to show all that they are a couple, they are together, and everyone will be happy of their love. All the while, Germany would clench at his fists hard and crush the utter soul of what he is holding.

He had love. He had love a long time ago, before it came crashing down like tidal waves pinning him down to the deep blue sea and forever rendering him without his sister and father to guide him endlessly.)

He lets himself melt into the suffocating couch, sighing a little from how soft it feels on his back, contradictory to the fact that he can still feel the bruises Reich had caused on it, still throbbing with pain every time he presses them onto a hard surface. (Which is why his chairs on every meeting is stacked with pillows; he knows he cannot have his back mangled from both work and a painful past.)

He then stiffens when he hears a gunshot- then it starts to multiply a lot in his ears, amplifying it to the sounds of many a soldier screaming and ordering in German, then a shot towards he himself, a scared and trembling boy who tries his damnedest to lift the heavy armed weapon on his arms as he, with quivering feet, try catching up with the older men who were completely ignoring him to save their own asses.

"Bitte... lass mich alles vergessen." He silently prays to no one in particular; he has never had believed in a single faith after his childhood came crashing down to reveal the outside world in the most sickening and twisting of ways, twisting his mind until he cannot make up what is real and what is not anymore. "Bitte... bitte..."

His nerves start to rack as all of his senses were now on fire, trying to claw their way into his skull and he grits his teeth, opening and then closing his eyes again when he sees that everything around him is as dark as the death of the night, no stars nor light was there to guide him. He tries to stand, but his legs had turned as soft as jelly, and he stumbles with a hard thud- but it doesn't hurt him, only giving him a slight amplifying when his heart starts to beat, faster and racing like they were trying to catch up with his nerves settling into him. He tries to feel his hands, but they were numb, like they were settled deep into a blockade of ice where they stayed for an hour or two before completely being submerged frozen. His chest was heaving, pounding outwards like there was a beast inside him waiting to be let out so they can murder him. He can feel the wetness of his cheeks, though, and opens his mouth to let out a muffled sob but nothing comes out (if something did come out he'd choke it back down).

He tries to calm himself down - which was now a daily occurrence - because he knows no one will acknowledge him, no one will care that he's having panic attacks in three in the morning and trying to control himself from taking the knife and giving himself a variety of cuts and bruises along his skin.

No one will care.

And that's a fact he has to live with.

"You have the nerve to show your face here again?" Germany's green eyes slither towards the towering figure that was Frankreich, always high and mighty, always proud, and always antagonizing him no matter what he has to do. His eyes go back to the documents he was writing.

"I work here, Frankreich", he says softly but can still be heard by everyone in the room, "please leave me be."

He hears the woman laugh, her laugh just as warm and thick with honey as her voice. "Ah, so the la mauviette learns how to talk back to his higher-ups, hm?"

He ignores her, despite the fact he knows she doesn't have an inclination towards being ignored, loving the attention, loving the spotlight that may sometimes be meant to others.

(One time he sees Italy and France arguing about something he cannot hear, except for the fact that France was complaining about how she 'didn't have enough screen time' and Italy looking genuinely apologetic.)

"Rèponds-moi- I do not want to be ignored."

The sounds of scribbling paper fills the room, the entire office becoming eerily quiet for Germany's taste, and he wonders if France did have a specific touch on the building to let everyone know that drama was happening.

"RÈPONDS-MOI, SALE ALLEMAND!" Her shriek, which is an octave higher than her voice, makes West's handwriting sloppier as he jumps from his seat with his hair a mess from the jolt. His shaken eyes turn back to France, jaw locked, eyes murderous and bloodshot, her fingers on his desk.

(No, this did not bring him bad memories of Reich, absolutely not.)

"Ah, so I can get your attention from shouting", France says, a tiny smirk dancing across her face, a malicious intent in her eyes. "What? Scared I'll come to your room and murder you in cold blood?"

I am not afraid of murder, Germany wants to say but bites his tongue, knowing he'd provoke France even further than he did before.

"You are", she says with a small chuckle as she retracts her fingers from his table slowly, like she was going to raise it and scratch his face with her nails. "I think I know what else will frighten you."

She raises her hand, clenched to a fist, and Germany gasps; all of a sudden the warm air around the room has been shattered, replaced by the familiar chill he has always felt whenever he was around, whenever his shadow lurks in the darkness, watching, eyeing him and whenever he shows up in his delusions that are called dreams in his slumber. And he remembers those tainted red eyes of madness, showing no remorse as he strikes East after she had misbehaved his order, and then him, cowering in fear underneath the staircases but he receives a blow, horrible and it repeats and repeats, the blows becoming more and more painful as pain blossoms into his body while he apologizes, knowing full well Reich would never listen.

"ES TUT MIR LEID!" He did not know when he had stumbled into the ground, out of his chair, into the cold and hard floors, sweating, chest heaving and breath quickening, seeing the shadow of the ruthless dictator he had come to despise all his life, and not France. "Vergib mir! Bitte! Hit me but not her!" He starts to choke and sob, a river of tears running down his cheeks, gritting his teeth.

(Was he aware that he was foolishly breaking his own walls in front of people who dislike him? Perhaps, or he is hallucinating he was in his room once again talking to a shadow of that man.)

He screams when he feels someone's hand on his shoulder, and scrambles back like a rat against all human touches and wanting to get away from them. "GET AWAY! DU BIST NICHT VATER! Ich will meinen Vater! WO IST ER!" His eyes sesrch frantically at the sea of faces, trying to decipher who was the kind and caring father that had raised him over the years with his kind smile and lively attitude, and breaks down into sobs, crawling into a fetal position when he cannot find him.

(France hears Allemagne repeat Weimar and Ost's names, crying his heart out as he puts his face into his hands, his fingers digging into his skin. All the while, she did not know what had triggered this, and she looks at her fist with a confused look.)

The whole room is now full of nerve-racking sobs, when the man in front of them reverts back to a young boy that wants his family back.

Austria hears impatient knocks on his door, and he sighs, sitting up from where he was sitting and pinching the bridge of his nose, silently deciding whether to abandon his music composition briefly or answer the door. He decides to come downstairs, in his bathrobe and hurries down towards the door, where in which the troublesome knocks were resonating.

"Darf ich Ihnen helfen?", he asks calmly, until he fully registers who was at his doorstep-

France looks at him awkwardly, feet shifting from left to right and hands on her back. "Puis-je te demander quelque chose?"

France takes a sip of her cup of tea which Austria had brewed, placing it on the tray on the small coffee table as she puts her hands on her lap daintily.

(Austria knows that her dainty and fragile features mask the she-wolf of a woman that she is; that her innocent looks and pure smiles can mean something else and everyone who has fallen under her spell has suffered a terrible fate, a poisonous apple.)

"Third Reich", Austria spits his name out of his mouth, like a forbidden curse. "You are aware of the fact Weimar turned into him, correct?"

France rolls her eyes, "Of course I know. I wasn't born yesterday you know."

"Well, you see, the twins are quite attached to their father; something you can never relate to." He flicks his finger, a tiny snap as his eyes carefully flickers to a portrait of Liechtenstein. "When they realized their father was replaced by a terrible and god-awful man, oh, were they devastated."

"Well, from the way Allemagne was crying of his father today I can see it." France mentally slaps herself after she lets the remark slip out of her mouth, and now Austria was glaring at her, holding his cup of tea.

He sighs, "Well, I cannot critique you; I made no help to both of them, with the delusion of still being in power." He sighs a little, guilt lingering in his voice as he fixes his glasses. "Why do you need my help again?"

France's leg starts to bounce, "Because, Austria, I want to know why Allemagne overreacted to me almost hitting him yesterday."

Austria's eyes give off another slight irritation, as if not wanting to talk about how everything all went wrong yesterday.

(He was, of course, there, obviously- he had just gotten back from the coffee room only to see West on the floors with everyone standing like a deer in the headlights and France nowhere to be seen. He and Schweiz had to soothe Germany out of his fetal position and support him while walking. The nerve-wracking sobs remind Austria of Confederation and he was close to sobbing as well.)

"If you were such a 'smart' woman as you put it", Austria puts finger quotations on the word 'smart', much to France's dismay, "then you would know how much harshness Reich treated those twins of Weimar."

France leans uncomfortably into her chair, looking at the steam rising from her cup of tea like it was a phantom offering her something else in the cup, a woman giving her a thousand knowledge in one life time. She sighs, "Look, I know me and the others were at fault for his demise-"

"It's not entirely your fault too", Austria cuts in, "it is partially also Weimar's for accepting the ghost in his head telling him of promises so he can take what was his."

"Alright, back to the topic", France swivels, "I've noticed something peculiar about Germany. About the way he's always really silent that when he speaks everyone just jumps because they're unaware he was in the same room as them; the way he jumps when someone makes a loud noise; the way he asks people if this seat or place is taken despite the fact that he actually is seated there; and just yesterday, when I tried to hit him he just spent half an hour on the floors, grovelling, until you helped him up."

Austria thinks for a moment, lips pursed as if contemplating how this situation had gone to a topsy-turvy. "Have you ever considered that this net behavior of West can stem from years of hurt and pain?"

France blinks, "I thought he was just anxious and shy-"

"You thought wrong, Frankreich", Austria says, glowering a little. "You'll always assume even the most basic of things. I've seen West being hit and belittled by Reich, while that disgusting man had enjoyed his pain and misery." His face shows more regret once again. "But what do I know? I turned a blind eye on them all. The next thing I knew Reich was dead in his office, West is in the Allies' custody, and East is now with the Soviet Union."

France sighs a little, "Listen, I've done something horrible to Allemagne, that I can tell; and I want to... help him."

Austria scoffs, gripping the handle of his cup hard. "Help? I think you've done your part on helping the poor boy. You think hitting him will make you feel satisfied at the fact you made a boy grovel at your feet? That is not helping; you are doing the same thing Reich did."

"And what did Reich do?"

The man in front of her chuckles, like he has seen a hilarious move right in front of him. "Isn't it obvious? He hits, starves, and misuses the twins to the point they are broken beyond belief."

"I... I didn't know that bastard would do that to his own children!" France tries to find some evidence so she can prove herself justifiable of why she had tried to hit West in the first place. Her mind gives her a conscience instead of a reliable excuse though- she wanted to hit West to see how much his mind will topple over and break him like the fragile glass in abandoned buildings and even in her own home in which she drunkenly throws all of her glasses of wine into the walls.

Österreich glares at her with a magnitude of a thousand suns looking to strike her down. "Now you know, and now... I do not know. If you would've given the boy a chance, then he would not be scarred by days past. He would not wallow in guilt on what has become in his life and how he should make it up to every single one of you. I can only be here for him for a short while before he goes back to his home in a pitying manner, before he goed nd play with that razor blade-"

France's heart stops for a second as she jolts up from where she was sitting. "Wait... Allemagne hurts himself?"

The sadness in Austria's eyes increase as he looks back at the cup in his hands. "He does; I tried so much to get him out of those manners but he would not listen- he keeps telling me he will kill himself when the timing is right, when the sea meets the sky."

France feels more and more feelings of guilt churn inside of her; who is she to mock the German family when even she was just as terrible as they are? And she remembers the awful things she has told about West and his sister and father, even right in front of him or in earshot like she has no care for his feelings and treating him as a person even lower than she.

She stands, "Thank you for the small talk, Austria, but now I have to go."

He gives her a small wave of farewell as she closes the door behind her, cup of tea already cold.

The air at the roof of the building was quite cold and chilly- like the cold floors that Reich would press West upon or the even harsher winters in which he is thrown outside after pushing Reich's buttons too much so now he has to sleep in front of the door he has been kicked out of, with thin clothes and freezing to death as he tries to plead with Reich to take him home.

(He'd cry and weep as he shakes with the shattering snowflakes as the tears on his face freeze up as his body becomes frozen and he crawls into a sitting position to conceal the warmth that still resonates within him.

Reich would only open the door when he is unconscious and would take him in like the loving father figure he is, wrapping him up in blankets and hiring the best doctors to help heal him. When West came to, he would shout at Reich but he'd simply laugh and say he has saved his life from the hazardous cold of the winter season.)

He takes the burnt out cigarette that has been stuck on his mouth for long as he drops it to the ground and steps on it as he grows closer, tantalizingly closer to the edge. The wind becomes colder and stronger, screaming at him to back away unless he deserves the terrible fate he's always did and steps on the edge to see what lies beyond the top of the very building.

West's eyes scan the neighbouring buildings, full of blinkering yellow lights that show people going on about their mundane but impacting lives, at how, in introspection, these lives are not worthwhile in the history books and that only the people living their lives fully know what has happened; not even their closest relatives will know of their deepest secrets and dreams and fears, only the speck of imagination that came out of their mouth is the only knowledge their closest companions will absorb of. He looks down at the speeding cars, wondering if he falls down from this great height and be flattened by the ashphalt road, will the cars zooming in such a high or moderate speed stop when they see some large thing fall from the sky in heaven's grace? Or would they simply ignore and accidentally run over his mangled corpse?

His polished dark shoe is camouflaged with the dark sky, as he taps to create a small cadence before his untimely - but expected - death. He takes a deep breath - his last - closing his eyes and to calm his beating heart, which was protruding from his chest and wishing to escape.

Not to worry, he tells his beating heart, you will be free after I fall off this building.

West takes a cautionary step outside the edge of the building, his shoe touching thin air, trying to see if it can carry him away from oblivion, away from its taste, trying hard to seduce him into the dark side, lips tainted with past lovers. He exhales, letting out all his stress, trauma, hate and sadness that has been plaguing him like a sickness in all the years after Reich had been created (his father was a fool).

So he leans- leans into the very edge, waiting for his inevitable death to sweep him into the afterlife, where he belongs.

A hand holding on his wrist stops him, and now he is frozen on the edge, like the sculptures of a fountain he has seen numerous times before. And then he is pulled back, pulled back to the bittersweet tastes of imminent death, his eyes looking back down to the ground waiting patiently for him, trying to comprehend that a body would not drop to their hard bed that easily.

Instead of fighting, he feels numb; like the only safe way to close the curtains of his life is down. He cannot feel his hands, like he had just inhaled another fresh bag of cocaine and spread it all over his systems like a fresh batch of flour had just rubbed off into him. West then feels himself coming to his senses, as he is brought back to the world of living he hated and will always hate and into warm arms that scoops him up like a swan.

"Allemagne, can you hear me?" The voice was sweet, pure but with the touch of concern in it, like she cares, oh she cares at how far West has fallen down. Her hands finds West's cheeks, warm with tears he did not know had appeared on his face during his time being saved by the light that has always hated him ever since he was born. "S'il te plait dis quelque chose, Allemagne."

West stares up at the night sky, stars blinking and twinkling all above him like they will shower him with gifts, gifts that will never make sense in a lifetime. His eyes search the skies, to find the constellations moving to form his sister, his dear sister that had pushed him away when they had reunified, smiling down at him just like in the old days, when spring felt warm in his hands as it devours the icy winters, touching the frozen wasteland that had become second nature. The constellations move again to form his father, his dear and loving father he had loved from the beginning to the end of his life, anger suddenly dissipating when he remembers the real reason why he became desperate, clutching at short straws before succumbing to the deepest and darkest desires of his mind, working like a needle for him to grapple at and sew his own life story.

(He reminisces about the small but comfortable apartment they had once lived; he was always never alone, he was always never sad nor angry, especially when it was with their father and Ost, so happy and so peaceful, until like a picture they were torn apart by the great grand scheme of things.)

And he sees her, burning like a supernova under the stars, the sun expanding and expanding and expanding until it wholly occupies the space where all life exists, her troubled face looking down at him with such intensity that he could not bear look at her eyes of hurt, knowing he's disappointed her, over and over again.

Frankreich's hands feel like the sun underneath his tear-covered cheeks, ultimately caressing him and then taking him by her arms, like they were the best of friends, the worst of enemies, dying in battle. "Je suis vraiment désolé." There she goes again, cradling him like a small and vulnerable infant unready for the world to take them out, but he enjoys it, he enjoys her embrace, he enjoys everything about this feeling, as if he had not felt it in a long time.

So he stays.

Es tut mir leid Frankreich aber- i'm sorry France but

Bitte ... lass mich alles vergessen- please, let me forget everything

Rèponds-moi- answer me

Vergib me- forgive me

Du bist nicht vater- you are not my father

Ich will meinen vater, wo ist er- i want my father, where is he

Darf ich Ihnen helfen?- may i help you

puis-je te demander quelque chose- can i ask you something

S'il te plait dis quelque chose- please say something

Je suis vraiment désolé- i'm so sorry

#mine #countryhumans #writing #GerFra #countryhumans germany #countryhumans france #countryhumans austria #countryhumans weimar republic #countryhumans east germany #tw: suicide attempt #tw: child abuse #tw: emotional trauma #tw: abuse

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crownedbyluke · 5 years ago

Text

Long Road Ahead (Chapter Thirteen)

Estelle Finley has been friends with Ashton Irwin and Luke Hemmings for three years. When the boys bring her along on a jam-packed road trip to Cape Cod with the rest of the band, their adventures are just beginning. Through long hours driving, exploring cities, and hidden secrets, something more is bound to happen on this journey. How will this road trip change Estelle’s friendship with the friends she’s come to love so dearly?

Word Count: 3,150

{Chapter One} {Chapter Two} {Chapter Three} {Chapter Four}{Chapter Five} {Chapter Six} {Chapter Seven} {Chapter Eight} {Chapter Nine} {Chapter Ten} {Chapter Eleven} {Chapter Twelve}

I adjusted the knotted white cardigan as I looked in the mirror. There was something about the pink crop top and high waisted shorts that just made me feel confident. There was quiet chatter from the kitchen as I walked in. It felt so right to just be in the same house as everyone instead of constantly having to drive to separate apartments and houses. My thoughts went to what an adjustment it would be to no longer have everyone so close. A slight sadness came over me as I imagined the silence that would happen once we were home. There was a part of me that wished I could just have Ashton or Calum move in with me so it wouldn’t have to happen, but I knew that wouldn’t be a possibility. They had their own lives that required their own space instead of moving in with me. As well as the fact that eventually, they would have to leave for tour again. I sighed as I poured a cup of coffee, catching Crystal’s attention.

“What’s the pout for?” she asked.

“Nothing. Sorry. What are we up to today?” I asked.

“Well, I think we are going to need some food in here so do you wanna go do a food shop with me?” she asked.

Crystal always had some way of making me cheer up a bit. The mention of food and shopping was just what I needed to bring the pep back in my step. I nodded happily.

“Great! Hey Mike, did the rental come this morning?”

“Already in the driveway!” he called back.

“Keys?”

It felt like I was intruding on a conversation as they continued talking without being right in front of each other. It made me think about if Luke and I did the same thing. Crystal took me out of my thoughts as she tossed me the keys.

“I’m driving?”

“Thought you’d appreciate the rental,” she said, throwing a wink over her shoulder as she led me outside.

My eyes widened as I stared at the navy blue G-Wagon that was parked in the driveway. If my memory was serving me correctly, this was an extremely expensive car. It almost felt like I was touching something that I wasn’t good enough for as I held the key in hand. I looked over to Crystal and she was laughing at me.

“You seriously want me to drive this?” I asked.

“That’s why I gave you the key,” she giggled.

I glared a little before I unlocked the car. Crystal gestured for me to join her in the car as she slid into the passenger seat. I cautiously walked over and climbed into the driver’s seat. The leather steering wheel felt smooth and the cushioned seat made it feel like I was sitting on a throne of some sort.

“Why the hell did you guys rent this?” I asked as I adjusted the seat and mirrors.

“Luke mentioned how much you loved them,” she said with a shrug.

Of course Luke had said something. We had driven by the Mercedes dealership multiple times and all of those times, I had said something about how beautiful the G-Wagons were. A small bit of the pain ebbed away as I reversed out of the driveway. He had put so much into this vacation to make it the best vacation for me and everyone else. It was the special touches though that had my heart skipping a beat. I was quiet for most of the GPS-guided drive as my thoughts were swirling around Luke.

“The top looks way better on you than it ever has on me,” Crystal commented as we got out of the car.

“Doubt it. My yellow one looks way better on you,” I argued.

Our laughs mixed in the air as she grabbed a cart. What was life going to be like without them around to have these silly arguments with on a daily basis?

“So what do we need?” I asked, noticing the list she had.

“Each of the boys made me a list of what they thought was necessary. There’s some crossover. Here,” she said.

I glanced over the list, surprised by how much healthy food was on it. My eyes looked up, ASH written on the top of it. My surprise faded as I turned the list over and saw all the junk food Calum and Michael had written down.

“No Luke recommendations?” I asked.

“He was confident that the other guys covered everything,” she said, shrugging again.

While she grabbed some apples and mangos, I read the list more carefully. Several of Luke’s favorite foods were missing including the mango juice he liked. Was I supposed to fill in the blanks here and just put his favorite stuff in the cart? We walked past the vegetables, Crystal grabbing some carrots and celery. I forced myself to grab the spinach leaves that I knew Luke liked in salads.

“That on the list?” she asked as I set in the cart.

“No,” I replied, voice trailing off.

“Es, you know you don’t have to prove yourself to him right?” she asked out of nowhere.

My eyes went wide from the question. I hadn’t grabbed the item to impress Luke, had I?

“He hates regular lettuce and refuses to eat it ninety percent of the time. He’s an idiot for not writing his own list, but I’m not going to torture him just because we aren’t currently speaking,” I blurted before I could stop myself.

Crystal laughed and stopped walking so she could face me.

“What else did he forget?” she asked.

“Mango juice, gummy worms, baked chips, and the whole milk he likes in his coffee,” I sighed.

Her laugh filled my ears again making me groan. I felt like a little kid being teased by someone on the playground. There was nothing wrong with my memory of Luke’s tastes. We were friends before any romantic feelings were brought to light. I figured that he’d do the same for me if I hadn’t made a list.

“Shut up,” I groaned and gently pushed her shoulder.

We continued walking throughout the grocery store, grabbing anything we wanted and what the boys wanted. It was nice being like this with Crystal. The whole thing felt like I was contributing to the house and the sadness from this morning came back. Who was I going to do this for when I moved into my house alone?

“So, I talked to Luke about the art gallery opening,” Crystal said.

My eyes widened yet again and I stopped walking. I heard the familiar sound of my heartbeat pounding in my ears as my nerves kicked in.

“And?”

“He wants to go with you just like I said he would,” she said.

The way she spoke about it made it sound like it wasn’t that big of a deal. To me, it was the absolute biggest deal. With Luke and I not speaking, I had completely forgotten about the art gallery opening. I still really wanted to go, but that all came down to Luke actually taking me. Our fighting made me think that he wouldn’t be able to do it, but as Crystal’s words were processed by my brain, I became full of hope. I had gotten so lost in the hurt that Luke had caused that I forgot about why we couldn’t be together. Lost in thought, I still grabbed Luke’s mango juice and put it in the cart. It was time to talk to him.

➢➢➢

“Please tell me you haven’t worked out yet,” I said as I walked into Ashton’s room.

He looked up at me with a smile on his face, not at all surprised by the sudden intrusion.

“Not yet. Why?” he asked.

I noticed the way he was looking at me, like he knew I needed to do something other than sit in my thoughts.

“Because I want to go for a run and I don’t want to go alone,” I said.

It was half of the truth. The other half included Luke and my serious need to talk to someone about it so I could sort my thoughts before actually talking to him. Ashton looked down and finally noticed the workout shorts and tank top along with my running shoes.

“Give me like two minutes to change,” he said.

I quickly left and leaned against the wall by the door. Ashton was the first person I wanted to talk this out with and the increasing stress that was coming with it required a release. The only way I felt like it would happen was going on a run. Ashton opened the door wearing shorts and running shoes. His body was more toned under the shirt he was wearing. He led the way out of the house and waited for me to sync my headphones up.

“Remember, try to keep up,” he said, pressing play and taking off.

My feet fell into the beat of the song, glancing to check my watch. “Body” by Loud Luxury featuring Brando popped up. I focused on the bass, letting the song guide me through the Cape Cod streets as Ashton was only slightly ahead of me. We kept going until we found ourselves downtown. We slowed, needing a moment to catch our breaths. I took my headphones out and gave him a small smile.

“Wanna tell me the real reason you wanted to go for a run?” he asked while we started walking.

“Luke,” I said simply.

Ashton nodded before leading me into a small coffee shop. I waited patiently while he ordered us both a bottle of water. We sat at a table by the window and Ashton set his eyes on me.

“Lay it on me,” he said, crossing his fingers together.

“Crystal gave Luke tickets to an art gallery opening in Boston and he said he’d go with me and she had already talked to me about it before he kissed that other girl and now I completely forgot about why we can’t really be together and now I think I should talk to him about it, but I don’t know what I’d say,” I said, talking faster than I meant to.

It was like the words were exploding out of me. He laughed and let me take a drink of water.

“Well, what do you want the conversation to accomplish?” he asked.

I gave him a look of are you seriously asking me that before he pressed me to answer.

“I want it to end with us finally being on the same page again,” I said.

He took a moment, processing the information before looking at me again.

“You have to be open and honest with him, bugs. The only way you two are going to get past this is if you lay it all out there for him. You also can’t just jump down his throat at the first chance you get. I know what he did hurt you and that it has been stuck in your head, but he wants to move past it too,” he said, reaching out and taking my hand.

I looked up at him, seeing the genuine hope in his eyes. He squeezed my hand while waiting patiently for my response.

“What if my putting it all out there sends him away?” I asked, unable to meet his eye as I spoke.

“It won’t. He loves you so much and there’s not a thing you could do to change that,” he said.

I nodded again, going through possible conversations in my head. Ashton squeezed my hand again causing me to look at him. His hazel eyes had changed to showing his concern.

“Crystal said that you were a little sad this morning,” he said.

I sighed and pulled my hand away. The water cooled me down a little, but there was still a heavy tone to the conversation.

“I was a little sad this morning,” I admitted.

“Why?” he asked right away.

“When we leave here, we’re all going back to our separate homes. I’m moving into a completely new home by myself. That sense of family is going to be gone and it scares me,” I said.

Ashton sighed and took my hand again, this time pulling it from the water bottle I was playing with.

“I am still your family when we aren’t living in the same house,” he said firmly.

“I know that. Believe me I do, but this whole vacation has made me love creating an environment that has everyone always around and with it ending, that whole thing is going away,” I said, trailing off.

“We can come over all the time,” he said.

“That isn’t the same. It’ll be fine,” I said, brushing him off and pulling my hand away.

I finished my water bottle and got up to recycle it. We walked back out into the bustle of downtown, the flags flying around in the breeze. Ashton paused as I started walking towards the way we came in.

“Are you sure that isn’t bothering you more than you’re letting on?” he asked.

My feet stopped as I looked up at him. He was full of concern and there was some tension in his shoulders.

“Yes because it’s something I’m going to have to get over anyways.”

➢➢➢

I tied my hair into a braid and I pulled on the outfit from this morning after my shower. Again, it brought me some extra confidence as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. The cloud of sadness had dissipated from this morning, my determination to just be in the present taking over. I stepped out of the bathroom, carrying the things I had brought with me back to my room. As I opened the door, Luke was sitting on one of the couches.

“Hey,” I said cautiously.

I tossed my workout clothes into the hamper that was in the closet. My nerves were kicking in as we occupied the same space. He stood from the couch and looked at the ocean from the sliding door.

“Hi,” he said, his tone just as unsure as mine.

My palms were sweating as I walked over to stand next to him. The tension between us was thick and I wished that it hadn’t even been there in the first place.

“Crystal gave me tickets to an art gallery opening tomorrow,” he said.

This was an interesting way to start the conversation, but I got the feeling he didn’t want to talk about the other stuff.

“That was nice of her,” I said.

“She said that we should go together,” he said even more carefully.

The way he was talking made it sound like he was purposefully picking his words to have a certain meaning.

“Do you want to go together?” I asked.

“I was going to ask you that,” he said, the smallest of smiles coming over his face.

I laughed a little before finally looking over at him. He was still facing the water, but the sun was casting a glow behind him that made him look like an angel.

“I would like to go with you,” I said.

“Great. I’ll um, I’ll go finalize that then,” he said, quickly turning to walk away.

As I was about to call his name, the door closed behind him. Was he avoiding me now? I thought more about the art gallery opening and then it dawned on me that there would be a lot of press there. Before I was able to stop myself, the dial tone of my phone was in my ear.

“Yes Estelle?” my father asked upon answering.

“I was invited to an art gallery opening with Luke and I would really like to go but you said I wasn’t able to be seen with him again,” I said quickly.

There was a sigh on the other end and I sensed him rolling his eyes.

“Fine, but any press that asks you questions, you are required to talk about my upcoming project and not to mention under any circumstances your teaching career,” he said firmly.

“Understood. Anything else?” I asked, careful to keep my tone from sounding like I was annoyed.

“Don’t make it look like you’re with him and if you do, you know what’ll happen Estelle,” he said before hanging up.

My heart stopped a little as his words echoed through my head. How was I supposed to go to the opening and not tell Luke about my father’s threats. It wouldn’t be possible anymore. I had to fess up to him. As I was about to head to Luke’s room, my phone rang again.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Estelle! It’s Junie from the realtors!” she said cheerfully.

“Oh hi! How’s everything going?” I asked.

This was it. The call about the house I was attempting to purchase. It was like the world stopped spinning as I waited for her to tell me the news.

“Well you have a beautiful new home to move into on August first!” she cheered.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Relief flooded my senses as I felt excitement start thrumming through me.

“That’s amazing! Thank you so much!” I said.

“Of course. We’ll go over more details once you get the keys. Any interior designers can come and give quotes sometime next week, but I understand that you’re on vacation so don’t worry about that right now. We’ll be in touch soon!” she said.

“Absolutely!” I barely got out before she was hanging up.

I tucked my phone into the back pocket of my shorts and ran down the stairs. My eyes searched for Ashton, finding him out on the walkway to the beach. I took off towards him, my footsteps thudding against the wood. He turned and cocked his head as he watched me run to him. Before I was able to slow down, he picked me up and spun me around.

“What’s got you so happy bugs?” he asked.

My feet touched the ground and I felt the excitement buzzing around me.

“I got the house!” I said.

Ashton’s face lit up before he was hugging me again, lifting me off the ground slightly. Once he set me back down, he stared at me.

“I’m proud of you,” he said happily.

“I just can’t believe I got the house,” I said.

“I can. You deserve this,” he said.

I smiled up at him unable to stop the giant grin on my face. He reciprocated it before it changed to one that looked like he was thinking really hard.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” I asked.

When he met my eyes, there was a glint of mischief in them before a smile came over his face.

“Want a roommate?”

A.N.: I hope you guys liked this chapter! I promise there is some great stuff coming. You’re not ready for it.

tag loves: @thruheavenandhighwater @bbycal @emptysanity @floraldawg @tommossoccer @cakesunflower

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ftpthemovement · 4 years ago

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Don’t be a POSER

Treating people bad, and the going to read your Bible isn’t following Christ, it’s called religion. Last time I checked the only religion God himself honors, is those who look after widows and orphans in their affliction, and keep themself from being polluted but the world. So, if you aren’t doing that either, what are you doing? I’m sure we all can come up with a couple of ideas. Point is, your not acting in love, which makes people who want to know God, run further away from him, because your the example of him as a follower. Sounds a lot like Judas and less like Jesus.

I mean, sure you didn’t just throw some shekels to have him arrested, but your operating using his word outside of the context of love. If God is love, and what you are doing is the opposite, who are you really following? Let’s see what it looks like to claim God, yet not have love in our hearts. Scripture plainly says,

“If I could speak all the languages of earth and of angels, but didn’t love others, I would only be a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. If I had the gift of prophecy, and if I understood all of God’s secret plans and possessed all knowledge, and if I had such faith that I could move mountains, but didn’t love others, I would be nothing. If I gave everything I have to the poor and even sacrificed my body, I could boast about it; but if I didn’t love others, I would have gained nothing.”1 Corinthians‬ ‭13:1-3‬

Now I could sit here and roast every line in your face, but we know you wouldn’t stick around to read all of that. But if you would, just take a second and notice the end part, but if I didn’t love others, I would have gained nothing.” Ask yourself, who would live a life of pretend just to gain nothing. Nobody.

So that this message isn’t mans opinion, or all doom and gloom, let’s look at what love is to God, and how we can conduct ourselves in such a way that actually please God.

“Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. Prophecy and speaking in unknown languages and special knowledge will become useless. But love will last forever! Now our knowledge is partial and incomplete, and even the gift of prophecy reveals only part of the whole picture! But when the time of perfection comes, these partial things will become useless. When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things. Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely. Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.”‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13:4-13

If you spent the rest of your life reading this verse and putting it into action, you would have loved a life worth living. This is the love God wants, this is what he requires of his servants. Christ literally said, “By how you love one another, they will know you are my followers.” So let’s get to love and stop with the hate. Leave the judgment for God, let’s operate in mercy, grace, and sacrifice. We only have one life to live, it’s already hard as hell for most of us, so why not lighten the load.

Here’s a few steps:

If it doesn’t involve you, stay out of it.

If you’re not gonna be mad about it 5 years from now, don’t waste your time on it.

Stop complaining, no one cares at all. Literally

Be a giver and not a taker, you’ll thank me for this later.

God doesn’t remember their sin, so why do you?

Discernment is for building others up, not tearing them down. Calling judgment discernment, is a wack way to try and prove your point.

Shut up and walk away. If their mind is made up, your not changing it.

If you rebuke a mocker you will incur harm.

Don’t honk and yell. Smile and wave, and then under your breath quietly whisper, “God bless you, you baby angel, that doesn’t know that God sent you to me, to make my day better”

That’s enough for today. I love you, and it’s been a minute, I know. Trying to change the world with music. Music most Christians will judge hate and criticize. Because they are only seeing the opening act of a long movie that unfolds to magnify God in ways you could never imagine. Think about it like this, you tube on a movie and the intro is a gang member killing another gang, running off with the dope m, and headed to the strip club. In the first two minutes you might go hey this isn’t a movie for me to watch at all. But if you stick around, you see the dude finds God, changes his ways, and leads a ton of people to Christ. Spoiler out I guess. Good day gentlemen. From the front lines- ES

#ftpthemovement #eliasstrategos

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grxywxrn · 5 years ago

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Alive part 1

Neil Abram Josten was dead. He had never lived, but he was still dead and gone and absent and dead.

Dead, dead, dead.

It was a familiar word, playing like a broken record in Andrew’s head. A broken, dead record in a broken, dead mind.

Andrew imagined his mind like a smashed mirror, fragile and blood stained, unable to give a clear image to those who gazed upon it. This was all because Neil Josten had been fine.

Andrew hates many things, the words family and please, bitter tastes, people, but on that night a whole bunch of things were added to the list. The number zero made Andrew violent, thank you was torture to hear and Exy made him homicidal.

He still played it though, so Kevin wouldn’t die either. He didn’t care if Kevin died, he didn’t care if he himself died. Andrew didn’t care at all. The one thing that had made him feel disappeared like a tea light candle flickering out in the wind.

“Andrew?” Came a cheerful voice. Andrew looked up from his phone to see Nicky Hemmick, his all to happy cousin, smiling at him. “What are you doing in Germany? Especially unannounced?”

Andrew didn’t answer, he saw no reason to.

Nicky, after years of experience, let it slide. Six years ago, he may have pressed on, but Nicky eventually took the hint four years ago that Andrew was now a whole new type of broken.

Nicky played it off like Andrew had replied. “Well, it’s crazy to see you again. Erik and I were just grabbing stuff for dinner. His parents are looking after the girls for the day.”

Andrew has never met his nieces, Nicky and him had silently agreed that it would never happen. As soon as one of them started crying, Andrew would have done something that Nicky would regret.

“Hey, you should join us!” Nicky exclaimed. Andrew started walking away, trying to find his favourite ice cream in the frozen section of the supermarket. “Okay, sorry, bad idea, you’re right.” Nicky was still following him.

“How’s Aaron?” Nicky attempted to make conversation. “Is he getting used to the married life?”

In truth, Andrew didn’t know how his twin was, like everyone, Andrew didn’t care enough to care. Andrew grunted and that made Nicky ecstatic.

“And Kevin?” Nicky asked through the frosted glass door that was opened right in front of his face. Andrew got his ice cream and walked away again. “Fine, I’m guessing, with the recent win.”

Andrew skipped checkout 0 even though it was the shortest line up and headed to number 6 which was significantly longer.

“What about you, are you doing okay after Neil’s-“

Andrew whipped around, his fingers crushing the windpipe in Nicky’s throat.

“You have no right to say his name, Nicolas.” Andrew growled out Nicky’s full name because he knew it reminded him of his parents, or mainly his lack of them.

“Andrew, it would be nice of you to put down my husband.” Andrew cast his eyes lazily over the the man speaking German at him. Erik looked like he was playing it cool, but his fist was tight around the handles of his shopping basket.

Andrew basically threw his cousin at Erik, telling him to drag Nicky away with the most venomous glare ever. As Andrew paid, he heard Nicky saying things like, “It’s my fault, I over stepped my boundaries again.”

Andrew carried on with his plan for the day; get his cash changed from American to German because his was running low on cash, buy a new charger for his phone, went to the key smiths and went to get a haircut.

That’s where is all went wrong. A haircut was usually a bad experience, for both the barber and himself, but this was worse.

His hair was bright purple, messy and curly, his eyes were icy blue and his smile was so wide.

Neil Josten, age nineteen and Exy prodigy goes missing after game

After two years, Neil Josten is presumed Dead by authorities

Hunt for Neil Josten closed, body found in building foundation by demolition team in England

But Neil didn’t look dead at all, in fact, he look more alive than he ever had. There were no bags under his eyes and his complexion was tanned. He had a burn scar on one cheek and three lines down the other.

Andrew blinked, but Neil was still there. He held his eyes shut, rubbing them like Neil would disappear again.

Alive, alive, alive. So damn alive.

“Nathaniel!” Someone scolded of him and Neil turned away from the voice, holding in his laughter as his co-worker pulled funny faces.

Neil noticed Andrew, smiling at him. Neil came out from behind the front desk, ripped jeans paired with a red over-sized hoodie.

“Guten Tag!“ Neil greeted him in German. “Wie geht es dir?“

Andrew knew what Neil had asked him, he knew how to answer, but he just stared.

“Herr?” Neil reached for Andrew but let his hand hover. “Wie geht es dir, Herr?”

“Nicht so gut, Neil.” Andrew stood back, world tilting as he moved.

“Maybe you should sit down.” Neil guided Andrew towards a chair, in the mirror Andrew was ghost white, chalky skinned and eyes wide. “Can I get you something to drink...”

it was too late when Andrew realised he was waiting for a name.

“How are you alive?” Andrew asked in English and Neil looked taken aback.

“I don’t know- Sir are you high or drunk or-“ Neil was taking a few steps back.

“Neil, Neil Josten.” Andrew said, he didn’t know why. He hadn’t said that name in six years, Andrew had almost forgot what it sounded like on his own tongue.

“Alright, would you like me to help you find him?” Neil pulled at his hair.

No, he’s dead. You’re dead. Andrew wanted to grab this Neil by the shoulders, shake him until the nightmare subsided and he woke up in an empty and cold bed.

Andrew shook his head.

“Okay. Okay. Just breathe and I’ll be back in a moment.” Neil returned with a biscuit and a mug of coffee. Andrew didn’t touch the coffee because it looked to bitter but he ate the biscuit. “What is you name?”

Andrew choked.

“Andrew Minyard.” Neil smiled like he knew something Andrew didn’t. Maybe he did. “Can I get a trim and highlights.”

Neil let his face fall slack for a moment before nodding.

When Andrew got home, he could almost see the red marks on his skin from where Neil had touched him.

When Andrew went back to the shops the next week, Neil’s hair was black until his eyes and then snow white.

Andrew observed from a coffee booth, spying from over his mug. Neil was good at doing hair, and he liked to catch with his costumers.

Andrews phone hummed in his hand. Renee was the only person who called him.

It was a simple ‘are you treating yourself good?’ Like every question was around this time of year.

‘Come home soon, Andrew. I don’t want you to be alone.” Renee said, stopping mid-sentence with the sound of sizzling bacon in the background.

“Why?”

“You know why.” Renee didn’t beat around the bush with this. “Andrew, Neil’s-“ Andrew flinched “-anniversary makes you dangerous, not only to yourself but to others.”

“Shut up.”

“I want you to be happy.” Renee pleaded.

“Well I can’t be!” Then he hung up the phone.

The booth lowered beneath Andrew as someone took a seat next to him.

“Is everything okay?” Neil sipped his coffee gently like it would be too hot.

“Give me your phone.” Neil gave it over. Andrew tuned on Sir and said into it, “Neil Josten disappearance.”

Hundreds of articles came up at that search, Andrew found one without a photo of Neil.

“You follow Exy?” Andrew asked.

“Ugh,” Neil growled, “I hate that sport! It’s so stupid.” Andrew couldn’t help but scoff. Neil Josten saying Exy was stupid was just to ironic.

“Well, I play for New York with Kevin Day. Used to play for PSU in collage, for the Foxes.”

“I’ve heard of them, a friend follows it like a religion.” He seemed to loath Exy more than Andrew. “He’s obsessed with Day, and that dwarf bodyguard of his.” Andrew gripped the knife beside his coffee on the table. “Oh, wait. That’s you isn’t it?”

Andrew grunted, Neil laughter brightly. Neil snagged his phone back and read the article that Andrew had found.

“Hey, he went missing seven years ago today! Did you used to play with him?”

“In more ways than one, yeah.” Neil snorted, then laughed loudly. Andrew’s chest aches like hot coals replaced his lungs.

Alive, alive, alive.

“I hated him. Oh, I hated him so much.” Andrew hated that just voice shook on the word hate. He knew that word had a different meaning when it was directed at Neil. Andrew’s fist shook, he wanted to punch something. “I never knew why he was killed, Kevin wouldn’t tell me. But sometimes it feels like he’s still alive.”

It was weird. Andrew was talking to someone, and not just anyone about anything. He was talking to Neil about his own death that he couldn’t seem to remember.

Dead, dead, dead.

Alive, alive, alive.

“Well is that why you’re here? Was he buried here?”

“No, parts of his dismembered body were found in building foundations over in England. He wasn’t buried. I don’t actually know what happened to him.” Neil flinched, smile gone.

“If you want to talk-“

“I have already said to much.” Andrew started to leave but a hand gently wrapped around his wrist.

“Come around to the shop around three, it’s when I get off for the day. We can grab a coffee or something.” Neil smiled and let Andrew go. Andrew’s skin was on fire. “Oh, and my names Nathaniel Wesninski.”

Andrew’s hotel was big. He earned a lot of money playing Exy so he spent it all on stupid things. This hotel had a ball pit. It was three stories and the pinball machine room was where he spent most of his time. Alone.

Andrew walked down the hall on the top floor, passing Kevin in the gym. Andrew wasn’t going leave Kevin in America by himself so he dragged him to Germany with him. They hadn’t talked the whole week they had been in the the country and Andrew liked it that way.

He had a beer in one hand and ice cream in the other. When Kevin saw his unhealthy idea of lunch, he rolled his eyes.

“You can’t actually eat that for lunch.” Kevin commented.

“I can and I will, now shut up.” Andrew was about to walk into the games room.

“I invited Nicky over.” Kevin told him. “He told me about what you did. You’re lucky no press saw you.”

“Don’t care.” Andrew really didn’t. “I’m going out later anyways, so it will just be you two.”

“Where are you going?” Kevin got off the treadmill, bringing his shirt up to whipe the sweat off his face. “Not to do anything dumb or illegal?”

“I don’t know. I’ll figure it out in the car.” Andrew replied. He wasn’t going to tell Kevin about Neil being alive. If Kevin knew he’d tell Neil everything and try to get him back into Exy.

“Andrew,” Kevin sighed, “look, I know you don’t care or feel anything about anything, but don’t do anything to ruin your life. Neil wouldn’t want-“

“Neil is dead, Kevin!” Andrew threw his beer bottle at Kevin’s head, missing by a millimetre. But Neil wasn’t dead. “He’s been dead for years and he can’t want anything!”

“Andrew, it’s okay to feel pain.” Kevin told him. He stepped forward, hands raised like he was approaching a deadly animal. “We all lost N-him that day, but you deserve to feel sad or grief because you lost someone you love!”

Andrew slammed the door shut behind him. He threw his bowl of ice cream then smashed the glass on one of the pinball tables. Then it was time to leave.

When he got to the barbershop, Neil was putting foils into a mans hair. He was smiling and saying something about loving the shade of red the man choose to dye his hair.

Andrew pushes past a girl asking if he wanted to make an appointment and walked to the back of the shop where Neil was. His hair was now green at the ends and not white.

“Andrew!” Neil exclaimed when he noticed the tiny blond approaching him. “Have a seat, I’ll get you a drink. Extra sugar.”

Andrew sit next to the man who watched him in awe.

“Can I help you?” Andrew arched an eyebrow.

“Oh, it’s just,” the man beamed up at Andrew, “you’re Andrew Minyard!”

Neil had returned with a grin, placing the sugary milk down in front of Andrew.

“No, I am his twin.” Andrew said. The man just laughed, clearly not aware that there was two Minyards. “Aaron.”

“I knew an Aaron.” Neil began, eyebrows furrowing. “Have no idea where from or how, though. Funny thing is, I’m pretty sure he had a twin brother.” Neil laughed. Andrew wanted to bottle that sound.

“Small world.” Andrew muttered. His phone rang so he fished it out of his back pocket. “What do you want, Day?” He grunted into the phone and the man squealed. Andrew realised that this was the freind Neil had been talking about earlier.

Kevin slurred something into the speaker and Nicky screamed in the background somewhere. They were drunk as frat boys at three o’clock in the afternoon.

“You know, Drew,” Kevin slurred, “the way you spoke to me earlier was...was mean!” Andrew didn’t care. “I was just trying to help. Neil was...was my...friend tooooooo!”

Nicky started crying in the background, saying something like, “sweet Neil!”

“Kevin. You are drunk. Leave me alone and drink water and try not to fall off the balcony.” Then Andrew hung up the phone, heart aching. Why did it feel like Neil was everywhere, every time Andrew turned around he saw him. Some days he wished he had never met Neil at all.

Neil brought him back to reality when he leant over the back of the chair Andrew was sitting in to whisper, “I put some scotch in the coffee.” Then he went back to putting foils in his friends originally blond hair. Andrew drunk the coffee in one breathe and Neil giggled.

“I’m not supposed to give that to costumers but your tecically not buying anything.” Neil shrugged. It didn’t taste to good, it was just sweet milk and scotch but it was greatly appreciated.

In the time Andrew was sat in the shop he had four more of those drinks, learnt that the friend was called Nico and sighed a piece of paper for Nico to get tattooed.

Nico payed, spent ten minutes talking to Neil about Laura’s birthday present with a smirk and the kissed Neil goodbye.

Andrew almost took the scissors off the bench to stab Nico with.

Neil laughed, though, rubbing his cheek with a fake disgusted face.

“Sorry about him,” Neil turned to Andrew. “Nico’s a bit...special is the word I’d use. We are just friends though, he’s got a girl, Laura.” He pronounced Laura as Low-ra when he talked. “Still insists on kissing me goodbye every time though, say just because I’m ace doesn’t mean I don’t deserve some love.”

Neil shook his head, hair floating like a merman’s underwater. He was smiling quietly as they both fell into step beside each other, walking to seemingly no where.

“You’re ace?” Andrew asked after a moment of silently contemplating it. When Neil had first come to the Foxes he had said the same thing, I don’t swing, and all that. Kevin later said he was probably demi and hadn’t had a chance to figure out what he wanted.

“Yeah, is there a problem, Andrew?” Neil didn’t ask out of irritation, but genuine concern.

“No, the guy I used to date was demi.” Andrew made a point about say ‘guy’. Neil nodded. They didn’t look at each other, but they walked until they reached a coffee shop. Tooth Café.

They were about to sit down when Andrew spotted a camera pointed his way. Damn the press.

“Put your head down and walk to the nearest exit.” Andrew murmured. Neil didn’t ask why, he did what he was asked. Andrew put a hand on Neil’s back, fingers gripping the printed button up that Neil wore as he guided him away from the press.

The press chased after them, just behind them now and asking questions. Andrew suddenly pulled Neil around a corner. He grabbed the back of Neil’s neck to face him.

“Black car, number plate 157 RRT, floor two, seconction G. Run.” And Neil was off, running with the speed of the striker Andrew had once known.

The press had caught him, sticking a mic in his face.

“Andrew, Andrew. Who was that man?”

“You don’t need to know.” Andrew walked the opposite way to where Neil had ran.

“A lover?”

“Does Day know you’re here?”

“Who was the man?”

“Andrew, any comment on the rumours regarding your sexuality?”

“Since you played for the Foxes, how do you feel about Neil Josten’s death?”

“Who’s death?” Andrew retorted. The reporter gasped.

“Your old teammate-“ said someone at the same time somebody said “your late lover!”

“How would Neil feel knowing that you are moving on?” A reporter said next to his left ear. Andrew lashed out, punching the man in the throat.

The press launched back, some ran away. On lookers gapped as Andrew walked away.

Andrew found Neil sitting on the hood of his black Mercedes, scrolling through his phone.

They got in before anyone could see them together.

“Someone posted a video.” Neil whispered.

“Kevin’s gonna scold me.” Andrew pulled out of the car park and on to the open road.

“The reporter deserved that though, for what he said.” Neil was testing the waters of this conversation, now that he knew how angry Andrew could get. “He had no right.”

Andrew was silent.

“I watched one of your games, well two actually.” Neil started a new conversation. “Neil’s last game and yours, Andrew.”

Neil’s last game.

Thank you, you were amazing

He had ran around that stadium so many times, he didn’t find anything except the bag.

Andrew swiveled the car back onto the road when he started to go into the next lane. Someone cussed at him from a different car.

“Andrew, the way you shut down the goal is incredible. Maybe you could teach me a bit before you left?” With that, Andrew changed direction towards his hotel. When he arrived, he told Neil to stay while he ran upstairs.

Upstairs in one of the living rooms, Kevin was passed out drunk while Nicky was certainly on the way. Andrew grabbed two sets of gear that Kevin had made him bring with them and stuffed it in a bag. He raced down to the car with a pint of ice cream and two spoons.

“Every time I do anything remotely Exy-ish, i eat a whole one of these. Kevin hates it.”

Andrew had to wait for Neil to figure out how to put on the gear, because it wasn’t like Andrew was going to help Neil dress.

Neil looked like Neil in his armour. A green haired Neil.

“Alright, just try and take a shot in on me.” Andrew said. When Neil took the shot, the ball fell a few feet in front of Andrew.

Andrew got the ball in his racket and threw it down the court to where Neil would have been waiting for him seven years ago.

This present day Neil gapped in shock.

“Woah!” He exclaimed. “You are amazing!”

“You’re not allowed to say that.” Andrew glared Neil down.

They tried again and this time Andrew caught it. Then they tried again and Andrew reached for it. The next time Andrew was too distracted by the muscles moving in Neil’s thighs to block his shot.

“OMG!” Neil cheered. “I won!” He struggled to take off his helmet. “I got a goal in on Andrew Minyard because he was checking me out!”

“Was not.” Andrew argued but it was ignored by Neil screaming into a phone.

“Nico!” He started telling him all about what just happened. When Nico didn’t believe him, Neil switched the FaceTime camera to Andrew. “Told you!”

Andrew let them talk and eventually Neil calmed down. Andrew just watched him talk into the camera from goal.

He missed Neil.

He hated Neil.

Andrew launched a ball down caught, it seemed to pass Neil on flames. That ball carried only a small part of his anger. So he threw another and another. Neil ducked away, ending the call.

Andrew threw the whole bag of balls across court, still seething. When he was done, Andrew was shaking. Neil looked up at him from the floor to which he dove to when balls seemed to be aiming themselves at his head.

“Andrew-“

“Shut up!” He slammed his racket into the wall, snapping it in half. “God, just shut up! Stop looking at me and shut up!”

“Andrew- look at me-“ Andrew couldn’t. He couldn’t look at Neil without breaking. He had gone seven years without breaking, it couldn’t be now. “Shout at me. Tell me everything you want to tell him.”

Andrew grabbed him by the hair.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything? You knew they were coming for you, why didn’t you let me protect you?” Andrew screamed at Neil who look just about ready to cry. “You knew they were coming for you and you still played, you still made me feel something about you! You knew it wasn’t nothing so why did you let me fall knowing you were going die?”

“Andrew,” Neil gasped.

“What!”

“I don’t think I am ace after all.”

Pink. Baby pink.

Renee was going to be so happy.

Andrew wasn’t sure how Neil had managed to get Andrew’s hair that shade of pink, but the media loved it. The first time they had seen it was when Andrew was leaving the New York airport with Kevin Day at his side.

@TheJeanKnoxMor

@AJminyard not bad, Jeremy did call you a baby though

@offcialJeremyKnoxM

@AJminyard @TheJeanKnoxMor did not! Please don’t kill me, Andrew!

That was the most liked response. Some fans speculated why he would have dyed his hair such an unAndrew colour.

One fan said something along the lines of mental breakdown and Andrew wasn’t sure that was wrong.

Renee had liked it, she had called him cute. Aaron said it made him look gay, Andrew had kissed Kevin in reply. Thea had laughed at that.

Nicky kept texting him, even after there was no reply.

One morning Andrew woke alone, like every morning or sometimes afternoons.

The first notefication was; @NathanielWes04 is following you

Neil had sent him a dm over Instagram.

Heyyyy, Andrew! I looked up what time it is over in NY and I am sorry if this wakes you up!

Andrew almost smiled. Almost. Andrew called him, too tied to type a text. Neil picked up after the fourth ring.

“Drew,” he mumbled gently. Andrew had woke him, but he didn’t care. Because Neil wasn’t around, Andrew allowed himself to feel something.

“Hello.” Andrew said back. It was all silence.

“Why don’t you ever say my name, Andrew?” Neil slurred sleepy at Andrew.

Because it hurts.

“Your name is stupid.” Neil laughed at that.

“I share it with my dad.” Neil smile was evident in his voice. “Or at least I think I do. I don’t remember.”

“Don’t remember?” Andrew prodded.

“I was found in a dich somewhere between Cornwall and London, I think that where it was. Anyways, around five years ago a jogger found me minutes from death. I don’t remember anything from my birth to a week after I was found.”

Minutes from death? They had tried to kill him, but stupid Neil Josten survived. Of course he did.

“What colour is your hair?” Andrew asked when his chest felt too tight.

“Ash.”

They were silently listening to each other breathe and Andrew was reminded how alive Neil was.

Andrew imagined Neil lying in his bed in Berlin, on the left side of the mattress like he always used to. He saw his messy ash hair splaid out on the pillow and eyes hooded with sleep.

“Come to America.” Andrew shocked himself when he said. “New York, I’ll pay airfares.” Neil didn’t say anything, softly breathing instead. Actually, he was asleep again. “I hate you, Neil Josten.”

“I know.” He mumbled in his sleep. Andrew hung up and threw his phone at the wall. It shatter but Andrew didn’t care.

This meant some part of Neil knew who he was, right?

Andrew thought about kissing Neil again, it made his muscles ache so he blocked out the thought and got ready for breakfast with Renee.

“Andrew, that is amazing! Oh, my goodness, when does he come back to the US?” Renee was taking the news perfectly, at least in her mind.

“Never.” Andrew Said when he finished his bite of pancake. “Neil doesn’t know who he is and I intend on keeping it that way.”

“Why?”

“Because, it’s not Neil.” Andrew complained. “He’s a hairdresser with a new colour every week, let’s his friends kiss him goodbye and wears cropped shirts and short-shorts to the gym.”

Renee laughed softly like she always does.

Andrew wasn’t complaining about the later. Following Neil on Instagram was torture when he was trying to forget his lust. Andrew let his mind see a photo of Neil squatting with one leg stuck out, then pushed it away when Renee’s mouth started moving again.

“Andrew, this could be your chance for a happy life, take what you deserve.” Renee sipped her tea. Her hair was in need of a touch up at the roots. “Besides, he’s going the find out eventually.”

“Whatever.” Andrew finished his pancakes and coffee in silence. Renne didnt say anything for the rest of breakfast and Andrew almost thanked her.

Kevin was texting him, asking where he was because he was late for practice. They had come back to America a few weeks ago and Kevin basically slept at the court. In the month they had been in Berlin they hadn’t practiced together and that made Kevin even more enthusiastic.

Renee said goodbye to him out the front of the coffee shop and they went their separate ways.

Andrew headed to the court, hating every second of it. When he got there, Jean and Jeremy with talking with Kevin in the middle of the court.

“You didn’t say the newlyweds were going to be here.” Andrew said over the loud speaker. Kevin jumped a bit, but found Andrew scowling at him from the commentators box. “And Kevin, Jeremy is married now so back off.”

Andrew caught Jeremy snicker but Jean didn’t look to pleased. Kevin flipped Andrew off with an embarrassed look towards the couple.

Andrew loved to make fun of Kevin celebrity crush on Jeremy.

Andrew came down to the court, the only one not dressed in armour and he intended to keep it that way.

“We are going to be training with Jean and Jeremy.” Kevin told Andrew. “They were in town for the weekend so-“

“You thought, ‘let’s practice instead of hanging out like normal people!’” Andrew quirked a brow up at Kevin. He didn’t reply so Andrew started to leave.

“Andrew, wait.” Jeremy called after him. “We need someone to guard the goal.”

“Cool, call Sean.” Andrew replied. Sean was the other goalie on the team. He wasn’t as good as Andrew and couldn’t shut down the goal as good as Andrew, but he was alright.

“Andrew, it would be greatly appreciate if you would help us.” Jean asked. “I mean what else were you going to do?”

“Get drunk.” Andrew replied.

“It’s nine in the morning!” Kevin exclaimed.

“You’re right.” Andrew said. “I’ll hit someone up to drink with, never drink alone.”

Part two

2 notes · View notes

sarahboseman · 6 years ago

Text

WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT (PART 11)

CHADWICK BOSEMAN X READER

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4 - PART 5 - PART 6 - PART 7.1 - PART 7.2 - PART 8 - PART 9 - PART 10

WORD COUNT: 5700

WARNING : SMUT - SMUT - SMUTY - SMUUUUUUUT - SMUT EVERYWHERE

TAGLIST: @syreanne @royallyprincesslilly @captiansaveasmut @sisterwifeudaku@wakandanmoonchild @tchallaswife @kumkaniudaku @airis-paris14 @ashanti-notthesinger@zforzathura @90sinspiredgirl@wakandanblogger@wakandawinning@heyauntieeee@simplyyamberr@brownsugarcocoabutterwildflowers @skysynclair19@angieswonderfulworld@ljstraightnochaser @mermaidchansons @qweentbh@zxddy-panther@stressedgyal@bubbleboss17 @ovohanna24 @autumn242@starsshines-blog@wakandankings @blue-ishx @yaachtynoboat711@texasbama@maverickabull@leahnicole1219 @fireboltrose7559 @savagemickey03@jecourt@deliciousstreetkidcroissant @inlovewith3@marvelheaux@delreyfenty@mixedmelanin @theunsweetenedtruth @fineapplepuff@crazycags@lildashofmelanin @cetouna@blackbypurpose@builtalongthewayside@chaneajoyyy @steampunkprincess147 @lildashofmelanin @cetouna@blackbypurpose @builtalongthewayside@maynardqueen101@theesotericqueen@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@misswakanda2018@peppermintvanillaa @pilot-jones04 @blublubleu@mosaicpieces @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @tchallaknowsbetter@angelmonet16 @the-lululemon@sincerelyjamaica @dreampovx @littlemusic-reject @fitfineandstayingalive@theblulife @niquelafleur @luhsbaby@lildashofmelanin @pepper-elaine@blackpantherislife @ceeceenatural@intimacyiskey @muddy-kips @alexundefined @y0urs94 @love-silk@zoeday98@blackpantherimagines @wakandamama @mauham@lalapalooza718@bugalouie @dramaqueenamby @miss-boheme @shae-ster93@mellowjellow6@madbadsiren @jaeee-http

Hope you like it and enjoy the reading ❤ Reblog if you like it ❤ Pleaseeeee or drop a comment, I like reading them and interact with u

"What are you thinking of, love?" Chadwick asks you after a few minutes of silence while you look towards the sea with your eyes lost.

His words bring your attention back to him. "I'm thinking about how fast these two months have passed and how many things have changed. I left trying to stop thinking about you, maybe forget you and try to go on with my life and now ... "

“And now?"

"Now ... now I love you as I’ve never loved anyone” you admit

"I love you too, immensely” and your heart melts at his statement.

Happy, Chadwick smiles at you stretching out his hand to take yours, you clasp his hand interlacing your fingers in his, while on the other side of the table, you try not to leak your mix of conflicting feelings you have inside your heart.

Tomorrow it’s time to leave and come back to the base and you know that the impact with the usual reality will be powerful, especially because you and Chadwick haven’t dealt yet with the speech: “what will become of us afterwards?" In this last month where you have spent the summer holidays together, you’ve been very attached, you’re re-fallen in love until you get to the point you can’t do without the other. The thought of being in London without him, the thought of staying away from him, of not seeing his smile in the morning, of not waking up next to him, the goodnights, not having his constant attentions, his cuddles, and making sweet love every night, it’s inconceivable.

In the last days, you’ve tried to deal with this speech, but he’s always very evasive, he’s a magician in changing subject and shifting attention elsewhere, simply telling you that you don’t have to worry and you’ll both be able to carry on your relationship. You thought that, perhaps, he too is worried and anxious, and is trying to postpone this inevitable discussion.

“Don't be sad, everything will be fine. Trust me"

You nod and let you convince by the moment he approaches his chair to yours to kiss you.

"You’re beautiful tonight, I’m a really lucky bastard” he whispers softly kissing the corner of your mouth. You smile shyly, turning your gaze, because you can’t help, but feel a little embarrassed whenever Chad makes a sincere compliment with that tone of voice you adore and that makes you goosing all over your body. His hand slips on your face to lean on your cheek and caress you with light movements of his thumb, and then placing on your neck and on your shoulder to move a lock of hair. His gaze falls on your lips and then a little down inside your neckline, you take the opportunity to place your hand behind his neck and pull him to you making your lips collide to touch each other in a light kiss.

Chadwick doesn't miss the opportunity to caress your bare legs crossed under the table, sliding his hand on your thigh, and, at the same time, drawing the outline of your lips with his tongue for then sliding it into your mouth and intensify the kiss. In some moments you forget to be with more people, but it’s inevitable because when you’re together it seems everything else becomes optional. Your hands trap his face to keep it tight, while trapping his lower lip with your mouth, pinching and biting it slightly, then sucking it causing a shiver and a light guttural noise coming from his chest.

"Bedroom please" is the only two words he can pronounce.

You nod, letting go his face and moving your hands on his shoulders, keeping your eyes closed and breathing to try to reassemble before getting up to head into your place. The dinner was perfect, so romantic, a great way to end your holidays in paradise.

"Are you coming?" You ask him, holding out your hand to make him stand up, but he remains seated, smiling and then he looks at you, raising his beautiful face. “Y/N give me a second, I can’t get up like that ... look what you did to me" he says, snickering, but in a whisper, so that only you can hear, and pointing between his legs with a small gesture. You smile smugly, but the fact of knowing that he’s turned on and ready just for you, makes you wet instantly. Your desire for him grows in the moment of a minute flat, making you feel warmth and start sweating cold at the thought of what will inevitably happen soon, in the bedroom you share.

You swallow while you look into his eyes, trying not to get noticed by the rest of the diners, after all, only you two know what’s happening. Despite your emotional and amazing sexual transport, you can always be very discreet being very good in eye contact. With a finger, Chadwick makes a sign to lower yourself to be able to speak into your ear and slipping his long fingers between your hair. His lips rest on your ear.

"I know that look Y/N, I know you got wet to see me like that, right?"

You nod, but he doesn’t give up his grip yet.

"If there was no one around, I would just fuck you right here on this table, but unfortunately …you’ll have to wait patiently for us coming to our room. I promise baby, it’ll be the most beautiful night of the whole holiday. Go and put on something nice for me …"

His words whispered in your ear in such an authoritative way, are enough to make you come right there. But you try to hold back all possible reactions, just nodding, while he takes his fingers out of your hair allowing you to move away. You turn your back and heave off, leaving him for a moment to the table on the beach, knowing full well he’s watching you, not losing a single movement of your body. You know where his eyes are focused on.

When you reach the bedroom you’re in trepidation, you still don’t understand how this man can have this effect on you, making you so vain and eager for him only with the sound of his voice, to the point of panting alone at the thought of him inside of you. As he kindly asked you, you wear something cute and sexy.

You remember well his face when he watched you as you unpacked your bags the day after you arrived in Bora Bora. He was sitting on the bed, peeking inside your suitcases just having fun, while you carefully folded clothes inside the available drawers and wardrobes. You don’t like to leave your clothes inside your bags, especially when you have to stop for a long time in a single place.

"Wo wo wo wo and what's this? Why haven’t I seen it on you yet?” He had asked you examining closely your transparent lace set that left nothing to the imagination. Then he took another yours coordinated set of lingerie from your bag, looking at you with that grin of someone who is thinking about of kinds.

"Hey! who told you to peek inside my things? Put it down” you told him laughing, trying to regain possession of your sexy lingerie.

“Don't even think about it woman ... show me" his gaze meant everything, especially that "show me" pronounced with that tone. It didn’t mean he wanted to look at the lingerie by examining it in his hands, but it meant that you had to wear it for him and show him how it looks on you, in that precise moment.

"Are you serious? Now?” You asked, wide-eyed because, you had never worn sexy and flirty lingerie for him, not even at the University times.

"I don't think never been so serious" His demanding look was sensual and catchy, he was eating you with just his eyes in anticipation.

"Do you wanna see this naughty boy?" You asked him sensually by playing his game, he nodded, biting his lips and licking them. You went to the bathroom, changed your clothes and returned to your room. You didn’t even see him get up and move towards you, he was so fast, he lifted you up taking you from the knees and, holding on to your thighs, he nailed you to the wall kissing you savagely, emitting noises and moans that you had never heard. You didn't understand anything anymore and you let yourself go to the most complete lust by being guided by him, making you fuck like he never did.

At the thought of that memory of a few days ago, you’ve warmed up even more, but you try not to waste time and choose what to wear.

You’re standing in front of the big mirror looking at your reflection, you think you haven’t felt more beautiful than now. All the anxious thoughts have vanished and what remains right now is just the trembling desire for your not late-coming man. You didn't hear him coming, he's barefoot while he comes close to you, you can see him from the mirror. You see him licking his lips looking at you, exploring every inch of your body, from head to toe. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, his face in your hair to inhale your sweet scent and then resting his cheek to yours to talk into your ear.

"Damn it girl, I don't believe I deserve you. Jesus ... you're stunning, a vision” he rubs his cheek on yours as he slides up and down his hands on your hips, from waist to hips and then back up to touch your breasts imprisoning them in his huge hands. You arch your back to the feeling and all the curves of your body touch his, you can feel his full length against your ass, it's again stood and pride for you and you love the effect you always have on him. You moan, resting your head on his shoulder, while he takes advantage to kiss your neck in that spot he only knows, driving you crazy. He kisses it and slips his tongue moistening that part, and then bites gently

"Chadwick"

"Y/N ... you're beyond perfection" He slides one of his hand from your breasts to your flat stomach, then linger on the silk knot that holds closed the beautiful, short, silk robe you wear. He pulls one of the flaps to finally open it, while staring at you. His penetrating and eager eyes don’t leave yours for a moment and that eye contact you share is the most sexy and intimate thing in the world.

Your undergarment opens up revealing the rest and he seems to very appreciate your choice, you can see that evil grin and that smart look from behind your shoulder, while you slide your hand behind you to stroke his erection over his light trousers.

"Chad ... you're so ready …”

"I'm always ready for you babygirl, but let's take our time tonight, let me see you and praise you, you're delicious"

You smile and close your eyes as you continue to caress him as he gently slides your dressing gown down your shoulders to the floor. You feel his lips on your shoulders, moving your hair to be able to kiss your back, while his hands remain anchored to the sides of your ass to hold it firmly against him. Obviously you don’t waste time teasing him by rubbing it against him, suddenly bowing in front of you, caressing your legs up to your ankles, and then back up.

“Fuck … remind me to fuck you in this position later"

You chuckle at his request and take the opportunity to move and turn around, finding yourself behind him.

You slide your arms around his waist and then pull his T-shirt up, taking it off … God you adore his body, you adore the contact of his skin against yours. So as you adore resting your lips on his back and kissing it as your hands brush his defined abs, then going upwards for hooking them to his chest and gently rubbing his nipples that you know to be one of his most sensitive spots.

He lets himself be stroked, helpless, resting his hands on yours and in that position you can’t help but feel him so yours. Your breaths become noisier, but they are calm and long, long sighs of pleasure as you explore your bodies in a very chaste and harmless way.

Chadwick stretches his arms behind him to trap you, trying to caress and tighten your butt, while your hands rest on his belt to undo it. A shiver shakes your bodies in advance to that metallic sound and to the unmistakable sound of the zip that descends slowly, your hands get inside the pants to accompany their way down. While with a kick he gets rid of the useless garment, you get up on tiptoe to be able to peek at him from behind his shoulder, looking at him in the mirror. Chad shows off his most accomplice smile as he feels your hands sneak into his boxers and tighten his masculinity … "uhn ... yesss" said with a suffered and restrained voice.

He carries an arm behind him taking your hand to bring you back to him, his chest against your back, his hands caress your shoulders, his mouth touches your ear.

"We're perfect together, we've always been …” he whispers and you're ready to let him do to you whatever he fucking wants. If it weren’t for the fact that his hands are holding your arms, you would have already fallen, because your legs are like jelly, your whole body is a thrill and in fibrillation and, with all those sensations, you’re also sure that your micro lace panties are soaked.

"Tell me Y/N, use your words. Tell me what you want" The only noise you can grumble is a guttural groan to those words spoken straight into your ear

"I know you’re very talkative, and of course, a woman who has this type of lingerie ready to use, knows what she wants ... so talk"

"Chad ... do not tease me"

"Tell me how you want me"

"Fuck ..."

"Yes, of course, that's my schedule for the night, fuck ... you ... many times … but I want you to tell me how"

"Whatever you want, how you want ... fuck, do what you want to me”

These are the words he needed to hear for trying to push a little beyond the limit, without exaggerating, step by step, slowly … after all you have all the time you want.

"On the bed, slowly, on your back"

You suddenly open your eyes feeling his voice’s tone becoming more dominating, for a moment you were worried, but then you met his eyes and his sly grin and you recognize him. You never heard him talking to you like that in your intimate moments. You never heard him be authoritarian giving you small orders; you heard him making kind requests, but never orders to be fulfilled. It turned you on a lot.

You decide to play the game, because he knows you trust him, that you’re sensitive to certain things, that it’s easy for him to make you fall at his feet making you die of pleasure. But you know too to be the only one able to make him lose control.

As he just asked, you crawl on the bed and then turn around lying on your stomach. You look for him just with your eyes and you spot him taking his boxers off and then move to the foot of the bed, climb and position himself between your legs that open up promptly to make room for him. As you look at him, you realize how lucky you are to have such a tremendously handsome man and how stupid you were to not follow your feelings more than few months ago.

His eyes and his gaze make you feel the most beautiful woman in the world. He looks at you adoringly resting his hands on your knees as he strokes you back and forth, drawing imaginary lines on your soft skin that reacts to every touch. His hands fall between your thighs not stop teasing you.

“I'd take a picture of you now to show you how damn beautiful you are"

"You're not pretty bad too Chad" you tell him touching his abs with one hand. You love how his smile explodes on his face.

He stoops down to you, leaning his body against yours, finally to kiss you, you were almost abstinent of his lips. A simple kiss that doesn’t take long to become intense while your tongues lick and lapping to enjoy each other, it's really hard to control yourselves.

His hands touch your breasts still covered by the thin bra, grope and tighten them, until Chad lowers the fabric slightly to free one of it and finally kiss your nipple and tease his favorite part. You arch your back for the strong feeling and inevitably start calling his name when you feel his tongue licking it fast, bite and suck it, repeating those actions endlessly until the whole process becomes almost unbearable.

You whimper in the moment both of his hands slide between your legs and linger over your lace thong, you feel him move the fabric, roll it in his fingers and with a firm shot, breaks it, tearing it, as if it were simple paper. His gaze mixed with his gesture make you flood.

"You don’t need these" he tells you in an authoritative tone, throwing them behind him and then resuming touching you between your legs, you feel his thumb caressing your lips and cured soft hair, and then gently open them and rub your clit. All of a sudden you don’t even care about the Victoria Secret panties that Chad just broke.

"Awww Chad ..." you moan softly

"I love when you call me like that” he whispers on your lips as he continues to touch and feeling how wet you are the moment he puts a finger in your hole, sinking to the bottom.

"Awh fuck, yessss ... your ... your fingers ... I love them"

"Do you?"

You nod and he adds another one to open you even more. Chad kisses your lips and begins his descent of wet kisses, without letting out his fingers and continuing to slide them back and forth.

"Fuck yes ... please" you are on the edge of a precipice, you don’t miss much to come, but he keeps you there, on that oblivion, without giving you more and without giving you less.

It's a strange feeling, you’d like to come right away to reach your release, but at the same time you’d like to stay in that state for a while and feel that continuous and constant pleasure that makes you shake your legs. You have tears in your eyes.

"Baby ..."

"Damn Chad, PLEASE!" You can’t take it anymore and that "please" resonates like a plea to which he responds by lowering himself between your legs, removing his fingers from inside you and sticking them in your delicious mouth to make you savor your own taste. At the same time you feel his lips closing around your clit and his tongue lick you to replace the void.

You moan loudly continuing to lick his fingers, keeping them in your mouths, sucking and imitating what you would like to do with his cock, looking him straight in the eye while he continues to eat you out as only he knows how to do. You can feel his noises of approval vibrating against your most sensitive parts and reverberating within you.

"I'm so close ... don’t stop" but he has no intention of stopping, both of his hands are anchored on your hips to hold you firmly against his face while he eagerly laps and licks, alternating his movements.

"Yes baby, just like that, ride my face" and you're doing it instinctively, you rock against his tongue that for a few moments he keeps still, while you move as you like until you specifically ask him to finally make you cum.

His lips close on your clit again sucking it, they suck hard and in that moment you cum, calling his name like a chant. He keeps licking, cleaning his favorite plate, but despite you ask him to stop, because you're getting too sensitive, he keeps you firm with all the strength he has continuing to lick and suck you relentlessly, until in record time, you cum a second time on his mouth tightly shaking his hair and tightly shaking his shoulder that you can reach with the other hand .

You whimper and you moan like a child, the feeling is unbearable, it almost hurts, you ask your man once again to stop trying to get away from his firm grip. You hear him laughing and smiling between your legs, and after giving you one last lick, Chadwick raises his head to give you his answer: “I’ll count up to 60, you have a minute to recover, after which I will continue to lick you until my appetite won’t be satisfied, is it clear?” Now his expression is very serious.

You look at him agonizing and the only thing you can do is nod repeatedly between your moans of pleasure and your short breaths. At some point, you think he wants you dead, because if he goes on like that, he'll give you a heart attack.

“9,8,7,6 …”

“Chadwick please … give me mor—”

“3,2 …. 1 … time’s over babygirl”

And his sweet torture resumes, just as your moans. And the more your moans become louder and eager, the more he continues to eat you without no intention to stop. After the 4th orgasm he gives you, one after the other without stopping, he decides to be satisfied, and climbing your exhausted and almost dead body. You look at him with semi-closed eyes, while with the back if his hand he rubs his lips clean, you try to stretch an arm to reach him, but you can’t even perceive your movement.

He lies down next to you and hugs you, bringing your body close to his, he kisses your lips and moves your hair from your sweaty face making a cuddle.

"Are you good, love?"

You try to nod, but you can barely move your head, so you smile closing your eyes and re-open them giving him the answer. You feel exhausted but so fucking good.

"You know we haven’t done yet?" He tells you lips to lips trying to be as calm as possible and to give you the time you need to recover, even if he’s so damn excited that he would immediately slip between your legs to give you the coup de grace.

In the meantime he slides one of his arms under your back to untie your bra, to remove it and to make you finally remain as naked as he is. You sigh when you feel him approach to you again and kiss your newly discovered breasts and, as if it were an automatic gesture, your fingers slip into his curls to hold him in that position.

You love to feel his hands caressing every single part of your body, they are so big and so strong they make you feel protected whenever they rest on you, in any way he touches you.

Chad kisses your mouth again and you welcome him with fervor, your kisses are eager but full of love, you would never stop kissing him. His lips are soft and velvety, in perfect contrast with the roughness of his always perfect and well-groomed beard, that you like to feel against your face, especially when it rubs against your chin.

"You ready baby?" He asks you smiling and you shake your head nodding, at the same time trying to caught him off guards and try to overturn the position with the few strength you have.

"Oh, you wanna take the lead?" He asks in a whisper, appreciating your sudden gesture. He likes it when you try to take control and he likes to give it to you. You nod, biting your lip, as you begin to kiss him starting from his chin, until slowly covering his whole body, tasting it and spoiling it, taking your time, taking advantage also to catch your breath. The more he sighs and moans under your kisses, the more you take your time becoming insistent on some points that you know are very sensitive and reactive. There is nothing more beautiful than to feel him moaning from pleasure and slowly losing control.

You straighten your back, settling your position astride above him, swirling your pelvis to create friction and feeling his full length rubbing against your wet pussy.

"Now it's you teasing me ... you like it, uh?"

"Teasing you?" You ask him by intensifying your moves.

"Shit ... mmm mmm” Chad closes his eyes, he pushes his head against the pillow, his mouth opens in to “Ooh” of pleasure, as he sticks his fingers in your hair. You love to hear him coming undone.

“Teasing you it's my favorite hobby Chadwick"

But when he has enough of your teasing and he wants more, he grabs your hands overbearingly to direct all your attention to him.

"Come on, fuck me"

"Are you kindly asking?"

"No, I'm ordering you. Put this dick inside of you, now"

You do as he tells, raising your pelvis leaning on his seized up abs. With one hand you help taking it into your hand for align his beautiful cock at your entrance, causing him a groan. You both moan when the tip comes in contact, he immediately perceives your warmth and how wet you are, you immediately feel the sense of filling, even if not even a few inches have entered and at that moment you smile at the thought of how lucky you are.

Chadwick drops his arms down his hips to let you move freely and to leave you the time you need to take it all. Every inch that enters is a moan coming out of your mouths. You do it slowly on purpose, to enjoy that sense of stretching and filling. Finally you sit completely on him and for a moment stopping, contracting your pelvic muscles, causing to him moans of pleasure and expressions that only you are allowed to see on his face.

He’s beautiful like a God.

After a few seconds you start moving with sinuous and controlled movements, as if your body were a wave that slowly goes back and forth after colliding and breaking on the beach.

"Ooh fuck ..." you moan, dropping your head back for the intense pleasure.

"You feel so good baby, I love how you ride me. Do you love ride your man baby?"

"I love it, oh god, I love riding you, god yes"

"You ride this dick so well, oh fuck yes ... give me more baby" he tells you by shaking your hips in a vice to accompany your movements and make them more powerful and frenetic. You're a mess, your moans escalate every time Chadwick meets your descent, pushing himself upwards and touching a point in your body that you didn’t know to have. His expression is so focused, his eyes hook, his muscles tense and his body starts sweating as yours.

“You’re making me cum again, Chad, fuck … yes, yes, don’t stop”

“I’m close too baby”

His thrusts are very short and quick, the closer he gets to his orgasm the faster he pushes and your fifth orgasm overwhelms you like a wave in flood.

"Ooooooh fuuuuck, Y/N, baby yes, oh yes ... awwooo yes" he gasps, then calling you loud, he breathes short as he tries to regain control of his pelvic movements, looking at his white fluid that inevitably drips from you.

You don't know what suddenly happens to him, but even before you could reopen your eyes and recompose catching your breath, you find yourself turned beneath him, your legs on his shoulders while Chadwick fucks you again like there’s no tomorrow. His thrusts are already fast and powerful, you hear the sound of his skin crashing into yours, you feel his cock touching the bottom, getting all inside, getting lost inside you.

"You make me feel so full, fuck me just like that, don’t stop” you don’t know where you find the breath to talk to him, but your words make him some effect.

He slides out from you for a moment, he takes your ankles and with a firm, speed and almost inhuman movement, he turns you upside down, to position yourself on your stomach. You don’t expect that gesture at all and you almost screams in fright.

"Lift that beautiful ass of yours" he orders you by giving you a loud spanking to which you answer whimpering, but immediately you raise your ass towards him, arching your back like a pro.

"Damn it baby …" Chadwick tells you caressing your ass with both hands and with circular movements, for then re-slip into you and keep going to pump fast and strong.

"OH FUCK!" From that position is almost unbearable, you feel it to the core and you feel it all, the first thrusts are always almost painful, but then you relax and let go, is one of your favorite positions.

His hands are open on your back to keep you arched, while his pelvis moves alone back and forth, until you decide to follow his movements going towards him. He stops for a moment to let you and admire what is happening. For a moment Chadwick no longer remembers who is fucking who, because he’s really lost looking at you and watching his dick that is completely covered with your white cream entering and exiting you, and the only thing he can do is cursing, heavily, to try not to burst immediately and to continue to feel that bliss.

When he needs more, he regains possession of his movements to thrust again, strong and powerful, firm and decisive. His every thrust is accompanied by a "uhn" of pure pleasure that comes from the depths of his chest.

You feel him change angle, letting go your hips and leaning, completely cover you. You hear his hot breath in your ear, his groans and you feel his arm surround your belly and his hand reaches the middle of your legs to allow his fingers rub your clit insistently, causing you a scream of intense pleasure. His other hand rests on the headboard of the bed for his own balance.

"I love you, I love you so much baby" he tells you while he slows down his movements and his thrusts become long and deep. Even his fingers activity becomes slower, but he doesn’t stop touching you, even when your hand reaches his. "I love you too babe"

He sinks his face into your hair inhaling deeply, while slowly makes love to you.

"I can’t help it, I like it rough, but I need to love you then” he whispers in your ear, accompanying his words with sighs of pleasure.

"I want you to look at you" you tell him, turning your face, and he satisfies your request turning you gently this time, and then he covers you again, repositioning himself between your legs and aligning his face with yours.

"Nice and slow?" He asks you before starting to move again.

You nod and smile, you’re gone, completely exhausted, you don’t even know if you can reach another release, but the moment he takes his slow and deep movements, stroking your legs and rubbing your clit pushing in and out, you feel the familiar feeling growing in your lower abdomen. You arch your back, taking his head near your breasts and closing your eyes, gasping. He feels your walls begin to get tighter around him, he knows you’re close, very close, but he doesn’t increase his rhythm that remains regular.

"I want to hear you come again, take your time, I want to look at you" he says, stroking your face, then kissing your lips and pulling your hair away from your face. One of his hand is on your leg that he pulls and fastens behind his back. Your bodies seems to become one. You don’t need to tell him anything, because he feels your orgasm exploding inside you, he hears your breath, hears your faint voice calling him again, he can see tears moisten your eyes for the intense, sweet pleasure.

"Oh baby, yes ... I got you, just like that ..."

The constant contractions of your walls around him and keeping pushing at the same pace lead him to reach his release, almost silently, panting against your lips, blocking his movements for a moment and remaining completely still inside of you. You feel it pulsing.

He was right when he told you a few hours ago that it would be the most beautiful night of your vacation.

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

"Ready baby?" He asks you while you get off the taxi that has taken you to the airport, it won’t be long and you will be both catapulted to your usual life.

After two months of vacation, where you’ve been practically for 90% of the time in a bathing suit, you feel strange wearing your casual clothes, your jeans shorts are almost bothering you, as well as your tennis shoes.

"I don’t know if I'm ready. I’d like to stay here with you for a lifetime" "I would like it too" "You know we have to talk as soon as we arrive" "I know, but as I told you, you don’t have to worry, just enjoy the last days of vacation with me" "Ok ... but I don’t even know if I'm ready to accompany you to that event, do you really want me with you, with all those people?” "what sort of questions is that? of course I want you with me, I wouldn’t have even asked you otherwise"

"Ok"

"To London?"

“Yes, to London"

TO BE CONTINUED ...

Ok guys, as I had already anticipated, a few chapters are missing at the end, in addition to this maybe there will be 2 more, I have yet to think about it. In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, a bit of smut is always good!

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halfofwhatisayismeaningless · 6 years ago

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Turn Me On (Norah Jones) // Joe Mazzello smut. Song Request. [english-spanish]

You know you can request any song with any celebritie crush or just a simple request. SEND THEM TO MY ASK BOX. My tag list is also open. The spanish version is after the english one

This is my first piece of smut so I don’t really know if you’ll like it.

Requested: anon.

Summary: (Y/N) welcomes Joe home.

Words: 758.

Warnings: SEX.

youtube

You heard the mobile buzz on the chair of that fitting room, the screen turned on, showing a photo of Joe on the beach.

"About to take off. Wishing to see you."

"I love you."

You look at yourself in the mirror, you still had five hours, but that lingerie looked perfect, you knew Joe would loved it... And that he would love take it off your body.

A red lace bra, and matching little panties with a black, transparent, dressing gown that didn't let much to imagination... Perfect to welcome your boyfriend, that had been filming in Los Angeles for a month, while you were in New York.

You sighed, you missed him and phone sex made you feel cold. You liked to touch yourself, but you preferred to do it if he was by your side. You planned this some days ago.

You went home with your new purchases and the ingredients to make Joe's favorite food and chocolate cake. You took a shower and prepared everything. Right in the moment you were covering your body with the black transparent cloth you got a message from Joe.

"Just landed, see you in half an hour."

You run through your house, preparing everything, putting some music on, that playlist you created while ago. You heard the car going into the garage, you sat on the armchair in front of the door, covering your body with the black cloth, crossed legs and a glass of wine. When the front door was being opened, started that song that defined well those weeks.

Like a flower waiting to bloom

Like a lightbulb in a dark room

Joe looked at you, with a half smile, and a lascivious look, dropping his suitcase on the floor. You got up and walked to him.

"Wait, wait." he stopped you. "I wanna keep this image on my mind."

I'm just sitting here waiting for you

To come on home and turn me on

"Maybe you want to remember this one too." you started opening the dressing gown, showing to your boyfriend that new red outfit.

"Oh my god, babe, you are and look espectacular."

Like the desert waiting for the rain

Like a school kid waiting for the spring

"I've missed you so much, Joe." you approached him, without kissing him yet.

"I've missed you too, love."

"Then I don't know what's stopping you to kiss me" and that's what he did, he joined your lips, just like he had dreamed for a month.

I'm just sitting here waiting for you

To come on home and turn me on

"What a suitable song" Joe said, lowering his hand to your butt, approaching you to his growing erection. You took off his jacket.

“I've missed this so much.” you said, and whispered to his ear “I want you to fuck me all night long.”

"Your wish is my command" he picked you up and led you on the nearest sofa.

My poor heart it's been so dark

Since you've been gone.

You started taking off his clothes while he kissed you, moving his hand on your more intimates parts, which were getting wetter. When you both were in your underwear he put his hand in your panties and started touching your clit and inserting two fingers on you.

“Look at yourself, so wet for me.” you moaned as an answer, rising your hips, looking for more contact, you found his crotch, he sobbed on you ear and said “I’m going to eat you.” He took his fingers out of you and brought them to your mouth "Open" his two long fingers entered your mouth while a moan got off it.

After all you're the one who turns me off

You're the only one who can turn me back on

He went down to the center of your pleasure, taking off your panties, he started sucking while you moaned, higher than before. Joe accompanied it by a pumping of his fingers and a massage on my clit.

“Joey, I’m near.” you warned him.

“Do it on my mouth.” you did it, you undid yourself between his fingers and tongue. He went back to your mouth. “Let’s go to our bedroom, I want to fuck you.” Joe took you on his arms, going to the room.

My hi-fi is waiting for a new tune

My glass is waiting for some fresh ice cubes

20 minutes after, he was on you, fucking you harder.

“Oh my god, Joey.”

“I’m near.”

“Do it, do it now.” with one last movement Joe drop himself on you,, while both of you enjoyed each other orgasm.

“I’ve miss you, (Y/N)”

“I’ve missed you too, Joey.”

I'm just sitting here waiting for you

To come on home and turn me on

Turn me on.

Notaste vibrar el teléfono sobre la silla del probador, encendiendose la pantalla, mostrando una foto de Joe en la playa. "A punto de despegar. Deseando verte." "Te quiero." Miraste al espejo, todavía tenías cinco horas, pero ese conjunto parecía perfecto, sabias que a Joe le encantaría... Y que sobre todo le encantaría quitártelo. Un sujetador rojo, de encaje, con unas pequeñas bragas a juego y una bata de seda que no dejaba mucho a la imaginación... Perfecto para darle la bienvenida a tu novio, que llevaba rodando en Los Angeles un mes, mientras tú estabas en Nueva York. Suspiraste, le echabas de menos, y las sesiones de sexo telefónico te dejaban fría. Te gustaba tocarte a ti misma, pero más si era él el que estaba a tu lado. Así que pensaste esto hace unos días. Volviste a casa con tu nueva compra y los ingredientes para preparar la cena favorita de Joe, y un bizcocho de chocolate. Te duchaste y lo preparaste todo. Justo en el momento en el que cubrías tu cuerpo con la tela negra te llegó un mensaje de Joe. "Acabamos de aterrizar, te veo en media hora." Corriste por tu casa, dejándolo todo preparado, poniendo un poco de música ambiente, esa lista de reproducción que habías hecho hace ya bastante. Oíste el coche entrar en en el garaje, te sentaste en el sillón frente a la puerta, cubriendo tu cuerpo con la tela negra, piernas cruzadas y copa de vino en mano. Cuando la puerta de la entrada se estaba abriendo empezó esa canción que definía tan bien esas semanas. Like a flower waiting to bloom Like a lightbulb in a dark room Joe te miró, con una media sonrisa y una mirada lasciva, dejando caer su maleta al suelo. Te levantaste. "Espera, espera" te paró Joe "Quiero guardar esta imagen en mi mente." I'm just sitting here waiting for you To come on home and turn me on "A lo mejor prefieres recordar esta." te abriste la bata, enseñando tú nuevo conjunto rojo. "Madre mía, nena, eres espectacular." Like the desert waiting for the rain Like a school kid waiting for the spring "Te he echado mucho de menos, Joe." te acercaste a él, todavía sin besarle. "Y yo a ti, cariño." "No se a que esperas para besarme entonces." y eso hizo, juntó vuestros labios, tal y como llevaba deseando un mes. I'm just sitting here waiting for you To come on home and turn me on

"Que canción tan adecuada" comentó Joe, bajando su mano hasta tú culo, apretándote sobre su creciente ereccion. Fuiste quitando su chaqueta. "He echado tanto de menos esto." dijiste, acercándote a su oído susurraste "Quiero que me folles toda la noche." "Sus deseos son órdenes para mi." te cogió, acercándote al sofá más cercano. My poor heart it's been so dark Since you've been gone

Empezaste a quitarle la ropa, mientras él te besaba, pasando su mano por tus partes más íntimas, cada vez más humedas. Cuando ambos estabais sólo en ropa interior metió la mano dentro de tus bragas y empezó a tocar tu clitoris y a meter dos dedos en ti. "Mirate, tan húmeda, para mi." tu gemiste en respuesta, subiendo tus caderas, en busca de más contacto te encontraste con su entrepierna, él gimió ante el contacto. Se acercó a tu oído "voy a comerte entera." Sacó sus dedos de tu interior y los acercó a tu boca "Abre." Sus dos dedos largos entraron en tu boca, mientras salía un gemido de ellos. After all you're the one who turns me off You're the only one who can turn me back on

Bajó su cara al centro de tu placer, retirando tus bragas, empezó a chupar, y tú a gemir, mucho más fuerte que antes. Joe lo acompañaba con un bombeo de sus dos dedos y un masajeo de clitoris. "Joey, me voy a correr." Le avisaste. "Hazlo, en mi boca." hiciste caso, deshaciendote entre sus dedos y lengua. Él volvió a tú boca. "Vamos a la habitación, quiero follarte." Joe te cogió en brazos, llevándote a vuestro dormitorio. My hi-fi is waiting for a new tune My glass is waiting for some fresh ice cubes

Y así fue, veinte minutos después estaba encima tuyo, bombeando cada vez más fuerte.

" Madre mía, Joey. "

"Estoy a punto, nena."

"Hazlo, hazlo ya." con un último movimiento Joe de tiró encima tuyo, terminando los dos a la vez.

"Te he echado tanto de menos, (Y/N)."

"Y yo a ti, Joey.”

I'm just sitting here waiting for you

To come on home and turn me on

Turn me on.

tag list: @almurg

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagina #joe mazzello smut #smut #bohrap #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #bohemian rapsody movie #the pacific #the pacific hbo #eugene sledge #eugene sledge imagine #undrafted #undrafted imagine #the pacific imagine #patrick murray #murray

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blazerina · 7 years ago

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Going to Find You (Sean x MC)

Summary: This takes place right after the last chapter of Endless Summer Book 2. Sean and Taylor are separated, and Sean is putting things together after the helicopter crash. This is Sean’s POV and Part 2 will feature Taylor’s.

Pairing: Sean x MC (Taylor)

World Count: 1804

Warning: Describes some physical injuries, blood & pain, as well as the processing of traumatic events. Just want to be upfront with that. Other than that, very mild – no language or innuendos.

Author’s Note: I love Sean even though it seems I have to always write him in a “not so happy, extremely reflective, things suck right now but hopefully they’ll get better” kind of way. I have not written or posted a story in a while, but I hope this makes people happy to have a little Sean – something to hold us over while we wait for ES book 3.

Sean slowly opened his eyes, his vision blurry and his head throbbing. He was laying on his back amongst a dense patch of heavy brush and tall grass. Something sharp was scratching against his left leg. When he tried to sit up to take a look, he winced, immediately feeling pain in his ribs and shoulder on the right side. Realizing his throwing arm was injured; Sean swiftly laid back down, using his left hand to brush away whatever it was that was causing his leg such discomfort.

Several burrs and thorns had attached themselves to his pant leg. He couldn’t remove them all at once, from the position he was in, so he decided to suffer through it. His head began to pound as he pinched the top of his nose, between his eyebrows. Sean could no longer be sure there was any part of his body that wasn’t aching, throbbing, or in pain.

He tried hard to steady his mind and collect his thoughts.

Where am I? What happened? C’mon. Focus.

Sean closed and opened his eyes several times, looking up into the sky. Taking a deep breath, he kept them open and concentrated. Images from his childhood engulfed his memory as he contemplated where he was and what was going on.

For some reason, he began to remember a few special times when he and his brother would retreat to a park, the backyard or some grassy outdoor area so they could watch the clouds. When things were good with his dad, he would join them too. He remembered his voice, so deep, so strong, so soothing.

“What do you see, Sean?”

He furrowed his brow and studied hard, looking up at the sky. Not wanting to disappoint his dad and respond with “I don’t know…nothing?” He tried to make his mind form the willowy wisps into some kind of shape.

“That one looks like a tiger!” His brother shouted, before he could answer. Sean envied his little brother’s imagination and his ability to make something wonderful out of nothing. He was still like that today – positive, encouraging and able to make any bad situation good.

“I see…” Sean trailed off. “Dad – I don’t really see anything.” He sighed, disappointed.

“That’s okay, son. Sometimes we need to appreciate the clouds for what they are and not make something out of nothing.” His father reassured him, squeezing his shoulder.

His shoulder.

Sean winced again, still staring at the clouds above him. It wasn’t necessarily a pretty day – the sky was gray and foggy, but tendrils of some kind of cloud were swirling above him. It was dark, whatever it was.

As he focused, watching it swirl and curl into columns against the already hazy sky, everything clicked inside of his head.

La Huerta.

Rourke.

The Vaanti.

The gate.

Taylor.

The helicopter.

Taylor.

The cloud he was now watching was smoke.

Smoke!

Sean forced himself to sit up, his heart beating faster and his pulse quickening. Looking around him, he called out to no one in particular.

“Taylor!”

He continued to cringe as each movement brought him discomfort, but he had to stand up. He had to find her. Sean rolled over onto his stomach and then, using his good arm, he pushed himself up off the grass and brush, into a standing position.

His whole right side was in bad shape. He could taste blood so he knew his lip was busted. His knee wasn’t working right and his hip felt out of place. He shuffled along as quickly as he could, and walked away from the thick meadow where he had been laying.

“Jake!” Sean was huffing and puffing as beads of sweat were now forming along his brow. He could see Jake curled up in a ball, closer to the wreckage of the helicopter.

“Jake! We gotta go! We gotta get outta here! The helicopter’s on fire!” Sean wasn’t sure if the words he was speaking were coming out the way they sounded in his head. Actually, he couldn’t be sure of anything in this moment, as pure adrenaline was taking over.

He knelt down next to Jake and rolled him over onto his back. Sean had to take deep breaths to push through the pain that kneeling caused him.

“Wh –“ Jake coughed, trying to sit up. Sean couldn’t see any blood or any external injuries on Jake at all.

“You okay?” He asked as Jake continued coughing.

“Never better, Cap.” He responded. “What happened? Where’s Princess?”

“She’s not here.” Sean said quietly, a memory of Taylor’s hand slipping out of his flickered across his mind as he inhaled sharply, recalling this for the first time since he woke up.

Stumbling a little, as if he had been punched and the wind knocked out of him, he repeated, “She’s not here…I…I…let her go…”

“That’s smoke!” Jake pointed to the horizon and the wreckage of the helicopter, smoldering only a few feet away.

“We gotta go. Is Katniss ok?”

Still in shock, Sean answered, “I don’t know…”

“Com ON, Sean! We gotta move!”

Jake hopped up and immediately fell back down. “That’s not gonna work. Dammit!”

“I got you.” Sean immediately rushed to his side and helped him up. “I may not have Taylor, but I KNOW I’ve got you!”

With fierce tenacity and determination, Sean gritted his teeth as he slung Jake’s arm over his shoulder, while they both hobbled away from the debris as fast as possible.

The two of them made their way slowly, and steadily. Their goal was to get far enough away from the helicopter, the fire and smoke, that if something did explode, they would still be safe.

“I have no idea where Estella is…” Sean sighed as he and Jake stopped by a large tree, leaning against its huge trunk for shelter and support.

“Me either. We need to rest though. You don’t look so good.” Jake quipped, out of breath.

“Neither do you.” Sean retorted, sliding his back down along the trunk of the tree to sit.

“I’m fine as a fiddle.” Jake winced, his hands on his knees, still trying to catch his breath.

A comfortable silence fell over the two friends. All that could be heard was the inconsistent rhythm of each of them breathing heavily – trying to calm down, trying to rest; trying to convince themselves this situation wasn’t as horrible as it seemed.

Sean started thinking of Taylor. His thoughts started cycling out of control, one after the other.

How could I have let her go? Why didn’t I catch her? She slipped right through my fingers and God only knows where she landed. If she’s alive. If Rourke found her and took her away…this is all my fault. First my mom, now her. The people I want to protect and keep safe, always end up hurt. This isn’t me. This doesn’t happen. Sean Gayle doesn’t let people down!

Trying to regain composure, Sean took a deep breath. His thoughts this time wandered to his younger brother.

Why can’t I summon the courage and strength to be like him right now? I need to focus. To be positive. To be strong. I have to find a way to Taylor. I have to find a way home and off this island for good. But I can’t will myself to believe it’s possible. For the first time, especially without Taylor by my side, I feel hopeless. Will this ever end? Will I ever go back to Hartfeld? Will I find her?

He sighed and leaned his head back against the tree, closing his eyes. Taylor’s face came to him immediately. Her smile. Her piercing blue eyes. Her confidence. Oh, how he needed her right now. He began to focus on her and think of her…his mind taking him back to happier times…

“Here…hold this.” Taylor instructed, handing Sean a bobby pin. “My stupid bangs will NOT cooperate today.”

Taylor and Sean were on the hike with Rourke to find Diego. It was sweltering. Humid. Sticky. No one was in a good mood. The heat had zapped them of all energy and kindness.

She had stopped walking right in the middle of the hike. Placing her water bottle between her knees, with one bobby pin in her mouth and another in her hand, she asked Sean to hold one, causing him to stop too.

Sean knew he was being more short with her than she deserved, but like everyone else, he wanted to keep going. She was slowing him down and he was ready to be done.

“Seriously?” He looked at her quizzically, holding out this fragile, small, hairpin in his giant, stubby hands.

As Taylor worked on her hair, without a mirror, her eyes almost rolled back into her head. She weaved a quick braid pulling the pin out of her mouth and using it and the one she held in her hand, to secure the end of her braid. This proved to be the solution to keep her bangs off her wet and sweaty forehead.

“All set!” She exclaimed, proud of herself for solving the problem on her own.

As Sean waited and watched her, inside he was beaming and his heart felt so full. Knowing her had made him and his whole world infinitely better. He couldn’t imagine suffering through La Huerta without her. Even though, at the moment, she was a slight irritation.

“So…just to clarify, you don’t need this?” He asked, waving the small piece of metal in her face.

“Nope. But keep it – just in case. You never know when a bobby pin might come in handy. Right Meech?”

Michelle turned around from her spot way up ahead at the front of the pack. “What? Did someone say my name?” She seethed, also clearly agitated.

“Never mind.” Taylor sighed. “Let’s go.” She charged on up ahead as Sean chuckled to himself and put the bobby pin in his pocket.

Sean slowly opened his eyes and reached into his pocket. Sadly, he was wearing the same pants he had been in on the day of the hike. Much to his surprise, Taylor’s bobby pin was still there.

He pulled it out of his pocket excited and hopeful. As he looked at it in his hands and ran his fingers over it, he swore he could feel Taylor. It seemed so stupid. So crazy.

He knew that on some small level he was losing his mind a little bit – but this was a piece of her; this simple little brown hair pin was tangible evidence that they shared this life together and would be reunited somehow, someway, once more.

“I don’t know where you are, Tay.” He whispered, staring at the pin in the palm of his hand. “But I’m coming. And I’m going to find you…”

#sean marcus gayle #sean x mc #sean x taylor #blazerina babbles #bobby pins equal love #endless summer #endless summer book 2 #sean gayle #miss him so much #aaaaahhhh #all the tears #he'll be here soon #love him

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chestshot · 4 years ago

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Creature in the dark love to scare the little children. The grownups say a prayer, and the demons are forced to return to the shadow realm. Never get caught in a blackout. Some never find their way home. Come in as soon as the streetlights illuminate the path of the righteous. The beetles and moths have gathered in a procession, to welcome the night. “Where were you?” “I don’t know” was never the right answer. It is never going to be the right answer. “Stop crying. I’ll give you something to cry about.”

In this house, the belt and extension cords keep the disobedient in line. Sticks leave bruises. No Bueno. Back straight. “This is going to hurt me more than you.” I never understood that logic. “So why can’t I do it to you, like you did it to me?” “Porque yo soy la puta que te pario (because I am the bitch that birthed you). I’m doing this because I love you. Your soul is in danger.” We used to kneel on the bare floor covered in rice. We were made to carry these bags above our head for twenty minute and think about how we were not supposed to fight. She went easy on us this time. “Now kiss your sister and tell her you love her and you’re sorry.”

What is obedience, and what happens when it is forced? Believe in unity. Value brotherhood. Seize any opportunity to join hands. Even as the big hands crush the small hands, like a fist full of lavender flowers. Don’t think so hard. The guardians have done all the thinking for us. Some things do not need an explanation. Guardians discourage the children from scrutinizing every detail. All we need is to believe. Can’t we all just come together as one? If I wanted to find everlasting life, why did I have to lay it down to begin with?

The Knights of Columbus hosted Sunday breakfast every month. It was a fundraiser. As if the crusades did not provide enough funding. As if the parish had not given enough during the second collection. My mother would always hand me a folded dollar bill when the collection basket came by. It was a little secret between our Father and I (Mathew 6:1-4). I was planting a seed for his kingdom, and if we did not fork over the dough, let’s just say there was hell to pay.

I went to Sunday school. I had to. Otherwise I could not get baptized or have my first communion. The instructor told us that Jesus loved us, so he died on the cross for us. If we loved Jesus, too, we had to love each other. We colored the nativity scene and learned a few prayers. We were taught a theology approved by the Roman Catholic Church, and classes were $25 per child. At the baptism, donations were formally encouraged. Those must have been some expensive ass crayons. I was a good boy, but never good enough to be an altar boy.

I had refused to help in the family garden in the front yard one time. The bathroom floor was cold on my cheek. The sweat and tears running down my neck fell on the yellow linoleum. Now a grip on the arm, bent around my back. Too tight on the wrists. Cheeks got so hot that the salt water started to dry up and irritate my skin. Was it worth it? I know it was fucking hot outside, but couldn’t I have just done a shitty job or at least bullshit? Close the door. The neighbors can hear. Plus, the ac is on. I’ve been getting ass beatings since I was alive. If not from the guardians, then from bad decisions. I want to make them happen, but I always keep getting in my own way. Sometimes the floor can become comfortable. Just waiting for the blackouts to swallow me whole.

God helps those that help themselves…. Wait.. That’s not in the bible!

The Sunday breakfast consisted of yellow “just add water” scrambled eggs. I was too young to get hooked on coffee. Pass me the milk. I ate next to a church girl with an intellectual disability. Did God make her like that? I did not know. All I knew was that we were all equally as hungry after service. I felt like all the dark holes in the floor were so much smaller back then. If I stepped on a crack, I could always find my balance, or the guardian would help me till I recuperated.

“Hey guys. Where’s Jesus’s cloths. This is not funny. Oh… you guys hung him like this? Why? He was giving everyone free healthcare and food and shit. He doesn’t deserve this shit! Bring him down! Now!”

Societies fascination for making atonement. Drink and drive? Dui. Tax evasion? Prison time (unless its some shit like a white collar crime). $50 dollar fines for parking in front of a fire hydrant, that one time I moved out of my parents’ house and rented a room from some asshole named Evander. I was not a child anymore. I was learning from experience. If I only learned to come home on time. They say “Nothing good happens after 2 a.m.” I could have only imagined why, but the dark holes were still manageable. No claws yet. No transformation. The delinquencies of adolescence were not yet ripe. There was not enough blood.

I helped myself to a glass of orange juice. High pulp. Tart. Almost as refreshing as the forgiveness of sins. Dixie paper cups. An old couple. They must have both been in their eighties. With not much time to live, they both enjoyed the pancakes with light butter. No syrup though. Diabetes, you know. He pulled the chair out for her. He took off her sweater and placed it behind the chair. He wiped his head with a towel, then his mouth. He regained his balance. and shuffled to his own seat. He led the prayer and they both sat down to share (maybe their last) Breakfast. Listened to your guardians and maybe you can live as long as them.

One time, Father Manuel unofficially sponsored Mission Tortillas. “Como Dios Manda” literally means “How God Orders” or more precisely “What God Demands of us”. He was calling out the young women who decided club wear for a Sunday mass was appropriate. Father Manuel roasted them. “Esta bien que sea Qinceniera. (it would be cool if this was a Quincenera) Pero esta es la casa de Dios (but this is the house of God).” We were all sinners, but some of us did a better job at hiding it. We were all trying to avoid the transformation. We all needed to love. We just needed time to patch things up.

Mother Theresa believed that suffering was how you got closer to God. She refused to let some children receive treatment, so naturally, they would die. Their souls belonged with the Lord. For a while, I started to believe that I was suffering, and therefore, there was no God. I think we suffer because we think we must, like it’s all part of the greater picture. I also think we suffer because we all have things we conveniently forget about. We should know better.

It’s not normal to stay up all night. It’s not normal to operate a vehicle under the influence of anything. It’s not normal to lie to the person you are with. It’s not normal to wake up at 3 pm every fucking day. It’s not normal to put things up your nose. It’s not normal to get in the car with a complete stranger. It’s not normal to think that you can live with people for free. It’s not normal to pass out at the bar. It’s not normal to constantly burn bridges. It’s not normal to forget what you did the night before. The blackouts swallowed me alive, over and over and over. I couldn’t see the streetlights. There was no one left to pay for my sins.

August 15thth, 2020, 2:30 A.M.-ish

I said I was going to work on it las week, and then the week before. I had checked into the catacomb of wasted ambitions. The creatures of the dark had left. I looked in the mirror and could not accept what I had become. What big claws and teeth.

I had a dream I was filling up one cup with another cup, like an endless water mill. I’m not sure why I always felt this way. An endless repetition that never ends, like new ideas filling old ones, but never quite arriving at a solution, or like fish eating fish eating fish… Like a two gallon hourglass, constantly being flipped on it’s other end, ass up, face down, full of itself. The air bubbles, trying to escape. The lump in the throat of my life, always sinking into my stomach. The transformation was complete. I was living in a blackout.

The beta, or Siamese fighting fish, is native to Thailand and Cambodia. You can pick them up at your local swap meet. I used to love going to the Broadacre swap meet after Sunday mass. I got my hands on everything an eight-year-old should never get their hands on: laser pointers, chained wallets, pocket knifes, fart bombs, shock pens, pet’s I wasn’t able to take care of. I’m not sure what the fish were so angry about. Probably from being confined to a tiny ass sandwich bag.

I got my ass kicked in a bar fight once, in 2018. Three against one. I do not remember. I was asking for something that was not on the menu. I was being annoying. Swings broke out like a Florida coastline and faster than you can say Tallahassee’s televised turnout tremendously terrified pterodactyls. Too small. Smack. Too slow. Smack. I fell to the floor, head between my knees. My jeans ripped. All I could see was stars at that point. I raised a barstool over my head and threw it against the bar, not sure if it landed on anyone. Always bust out the bar stool when you know you are going to get rocked. I ran out through the front entrance and I called 911. I left my bicycle behind. The cops were nice enough to drive it down to me. They told me that the security guard told them I was trying to buy drugs. I told them it was a hate crime. They told me to go home. I told them I would never go back to that bar again.

Pigs in a blanket. I think there was bacon. Bacon or sausage. No. I think there were both. I woke up at 6am to eat this at 10am. 10:15 if you consider waiting in line. Why couldn’t everyone break bread the way we did? People always have to start a fight during a meal, or beer, if you’re a man of culture who would prefer to drink their meals. The indigestion was the worst. I could not eat breakfast too early because my stomach lining was still sensitive from the binge the night before. This did not stop me from killing a whole order of carne asada fries at night. I felt the weight of a bowling ball in my diaphragm when I woke up the next morning. Drinking water felt like swallowing marbles. This wasn’t normal. I’m not going to lie.

Well that’s great news, kind sir, because I can not condone dishonesty. Now please leave the patrons alone or get out of the bar.

My older sister became an usher at church. She showed everyone to their seats. She wore a sash that said “Orden” or literally “Order”. She asked people if they could scoot over. She made room where people were resting their purses or when someone decided that they needed to sit with their legs wide open. Me and my younger sister always got pinches during service if we were joking around or being distracting. How did the people really bring their kids to church like that? We were so rambunctious!

The endless cycle of Life: that our guardians had to beat the shit out of us. So that maybe we could learn. Or so we would avoid the transformation. In the end, we resent their efforts and only make it worse for ourselves. I try to push myself up, but my left arm is too mangled to lift any weight. The dark holes just seem like the better option sometimes. If the blackout won’t take me now, then maybe tomorrow.

The holes are patched up today. I found my way through the dark. My guardians were there all along. I just needed some space. My mind is clear. I can focus again. I can have breakfast again. The nights can be long and dark, but I know the demons have left. My house is in order. My mind is clear. I finally have a clean conscience. I want to go back to the time when I was a child. Back to a time of trusting that the streetlights were guiding me all along. When I could hear my mother’s voice and know in my heart that the night was near, but only to visit.

Drink some water. Jesus fishes. Say a prayer. Missing pieces. Dying wish is - God’s my witness – you just know** * the nighttime* ** only** came to** visit**.

#author #beat #person of color #litterature #publishing #violence #recovery

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 8 years ago

Text

Well, She Grew Up-Rafinha Alcantara Imagine

Requested: Yes

Warnings: none, just fluff

A/N: Y/S/N means your sister’s name

destruidor de corações =heartbreaker

Tio, ela é como uma irmã =Uncle, she is like a sister

Sim, e ele é o irmão mais velho que eu sempre quis= Yes, and he is the brother I have always wanted

Me desculpe pelo jogo= I am sorry about the match

Luaca= loca/crazy

For as long as I can remember, I believed that every couple in a relationship who claimed that they “started out as friends” was complete BS. How could you befriend someone if you had a ton of feelings for them? I thought that if I ever cared about a man so much, I wouldn’t even bother with the whole pretend-to-be-friends-and-pray-that-when-I-confess-my-feelings-in-a-dramatic-heartfelt-way-he’ll-feel-the-same-way trope. However, I slipped right into that phase with my longtime neighbor, Rafinha Alcantara. I’ve known him since I was one and he was six. According to my older sister, Y/S/N, he became like a big brother to me almost immediately----which she enjoyed because that meant that she didn’t have to spend so much time with me.

For the first thirteen years of my life, I was comfortable with Rafinha being like a brother to me. We went to the same schools and knowing Rafinha the all-star footballer helped me make my own friends when I wasn’t hanging out with him. He was always smiling, joking around, and making me laugh. I thought the butterflies I would get whenever I saw him were completely normal and the way my heart beat picked up when we hugged was just excitement. It wasn’t until I was fourteen that Y/S/N explained to me that I had a crush on Rafinha.

“No way, he’s like a brother to me,” I said.

It was the night of Rafinha’s going away party and Y/S/N was helping me get ready for the party. FC Barcelona had just drafted Rafinha onto their B-Team and he was moving to Barcelona. Of course, I was happy for him but I was going to miss him for the rest of my secondary school career. I was explaining my strange mixture of sadness and happiness to Y/S/N when I blurted out how I felt butterflies around Raf.

Y/S/N arched an eyebrow at me, her y/e/c eyes staring into my own through the mirror. “I see the way you look at him with stars in your eyes. It makes sense though: you’ve known him forever, he’s super nice, and you two get along really well.”

“But he’s five years older than me, Y/S/N, that’s just gross!”

“Trust me, when you get older, age doesn’t matter.” Y/S/N went back to pulling my hair into a cute French braid style. “You’re a teenager now, Y/N, and I know Mom and Dad already made you suffer through the talk so you know that you’re going to have a lot of feelings for boys now.”

I looked down at my manicured nails and sighed. The more I thought about it, the more Y/S/N made sense. Rafinha did give me butterflies and I did think more than once about what it would be like to kiss him or go a little farther with him...

“He wouldn’t like me like that. Why would he? He’s surrounded by gorgeous girls all the time.”

“Hey,” Y/S/N put her hands on my shoulders, “you’re just as pretty as those idiots that he is constantly surrounded by----even prettier. But you shouldn’t worry about how Raf sees you. There will be other boys.”

“Thanks?”

Y/S/N smiled. “Anytime.”

It was nice when Y/S/N came home from uni, especially when we weren’t fighting. I was surprised that she never tried to go out with Rafinha, but when I look back on it, it was because she more into the CEO-type.

I nervously gripped my black tulle skirt that I wore with a long-sleeve leopard print shirt. What if I looked like a little girl compared to the other girls at the party? None of my friends were invited to the going away party and they were jealous that I was going. At that moment, I wished that at least Y/B/F/N had been invited too so I had someone else to talk to.

My parents, Y/S/N, and I walked over to the Alcantara’s house, the sound of Shakira blasting in the air. The fence door to the backyard was open and we quickly walked inside. There were colorful lights lined above the backyard and there was a table with all of Mrs. Alcantara’s best dishes as well as drinks for the older people. The backyard was filled with Raf’s cousins, aunts, uncles, and other family members, who all insisted on kissing my cheeks.

“Ah, so you’re Y/N, the way Raf talks about you I thought you would be six years old!” Hugo, Raf’s oldest uncle, said.

I blushed and shrugged. “Yeah, it happens.”

“Y/N, I see you’ve met Uncle Hugo,” Raf said, smiling widely.

He always had such a beautiful smile and I fought the urge not to stare at him too long.

“Oh, yeah, he’s very interesting.”

Hugo grabbed Raf around the shoulders and pulled him to his side. “Better watch out for this one, Rafinha, she’s going to be a destruidor de corações.”

Raf shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Tio, ela é como uma irmã.”

And with those words, my heart broke. Of course, he wouldn’t see me as anything more than a little girl: I was still a first year in secondary school and he was moving across the ocean to be a huge football star! Plus, there were all the girls Mrs. Alcantara had invited who were oogling Rafinha. They were all his age, made up, and looked gorgeous. How could I even think that he would want to be with someone like me?

“Sim, e ele é o irmão mais velho que eu sempre quis,” I said.

“I will talk to you later, Uncle.”

“Of course,” Hugo said.

Rafinha pulled me aside and shook his head. “Sorry about that, he can be a little awkward.”

“It’s fine. Congratulations on FC Barcelona, just try not to forget about us.”

“I could never forget about you, louca,” he teased.

I pushed him. “You know I hate that!” Raf laughed and pushed me back a little. “But do me a favor while I’m gone.”

“Sure.”

“Try not to break too many hearts.”

“Raf!”

“What? That smile of yours is gonna do damage one day.”

Yeah, if only it affected you at all, I thought bitterly.

That night, I was forced to watch the man that I was slowly falling in love with dance the samba with five different, gorgeous girls while I stood off to the side like a little kid. In that moment, I knew that I should just get over my crush on Rafinha. There was no hope since I would always be like a sister to him anyway. After he left, it slowly got easier to get over him since he was always so busy with practice that we wouldn’t talk all the time. Unfortunately, no other boys interested me the way Raf did and I didn’t think anyone could.

Surprisingly, three and a half years later, I wound up attending Universidad de Barcelona. I ended up doing a lot better in secondary school than I thought and got a full ride to the college. Fortunately, Y/B/F/N got in too and we moved into an apartment together. Barcelona was pretty familiar to Sao Paolo because of the tropical temperature and colorful buildings, but the people weren’t as warm as they were in Sao Paolo. The clubs were a lot more laid back when they were mostly Catalan clubs and the touristy ones were much too stressful. However, I loved Barcelona for the most part and the only part I didn’t like was how busy classes got.

I was leaving a cafe near my apartment after a long night of studying, when I bumped into none other than Rafinha.

“Ay, perdon!” I said as I shifted my bag onto my shoulder.

“Es bien----wait, Y/N?” Rafinha asked.

My eyes widened as I slowly recognized Rafinha. He was wearing a black jacket, jeans, and some sneakers. He also had more scruff than he did the last time I’d seen him. Somehow, he had gotten more gorgeous with time.

“Raf, hi!” I quickly greeted with kisses on both cheeks. “I did not expect to run into you.”

“Neither did I, I mean, my mom told me that you were coming to Barcelona and I would’ve reached out to you sooner, but I’ve been so busy,” Raf said.

“It’s okay, I get it,” I said. “Not all of us can be huge football stars.”

“I know.”

I laughed and shook my head. “It seems like forever since we’ve last spoken.”

“Yeah.” Raf looked over me again, but this time, it was a lot more attentive and in the same fashion that the boys back in Sao Paolo looked at me when they were interested in me. “You grew up, louca.”

“Don’t call me that,” I said, playfully pushing him. “And yeah, after almost four years, people tend to grow in one way or another.”

“Yes, but it is different with you. I remember the time I had to stop you from eating mud pies when you were three.”

I blushed at the memory. “Well, you do not have to worry about me doing that any more.”

“Where do you live? I will walk you home.” “Okay.”

I told him my address and we started walking. It was nice catching up with Rafinha and listening to his stories about all of his teammates. His brown eyes lit up whenever he described playing on the field and how much he enjoyed making the fans happy whenever he and FC Barcelona won a match.

“Well, it sounds like you are living your dream,” I said.

“And what about you? Are you going to be a lawyer? Doctor?”

“I am going to work in advertising, actually. It turns out I am pretty good at it,” I said.

“Makes sense, you are a witty girl.”

I blushed again and ran my hand through my hair. “Thanks, Raf.”

We stopped in front of my door and I turned to him.

“Well, this is me. Thanks for walking me back.”

“Any time.”

I started walking up the stairs to the door, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach along with the nagging desire for Rafinha to pull me into him and kiss me.

“Y/N,” Rafinha said.

I turned to face him. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing this Saturday?”

“Nothing, why?”

“I want you to come to a game and bring Y/B/F/N too.”

“Oh, I do not know...”

“Y/N, I am offering you free VIP seats to a football game. Somewhere, your father is ripping his hair out because you are considering passing up on this.”

I couldn’t help but giggle at his words. It would be my first match since I got to Barcelona and it would be fun to see Raf in action again. “Okay.”

“Great, see you then!”

He looked extremely happy and I felt the same. If only those feelings I thought I had buried when I was fourteen hadn’t returned. Sure, I noticed the way he looked at me when we first ran into each other, but there had to be some other girl he was interested in----he was a professional football player after all. Raf could easily get any woman he wanted so why would he want to be with me?

Y/B/F/N squealed and jumped for joy when I told her the news. “Oh my gosh, I’ll get to see Messi and Jonathan Dos Santos and Gerard and Neymar Junior! What am I going to wear?”

“A jersey, probably.”

Y/B/F/N relaxed and smiled widely at me. “Are you going to wear Raf’s jersey?” she sing-songed.

I blinked. “I do not know, maybe.”

She groaned. “Oh, come on, Y/N, you are in love with him, just admit it.” She pointed at me and squinted. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“I am just happy to see an old friend.”

“Who you would love to bang.”

“Y/B/F/N!”

She burst out laughing and I hated that she was right. Raf was the only guy I actually cared about and even though I buried my feelings for him and tried to like other boys, it didn’t work. Plus, seeing him again made all those old feelings come back.

“Even if I did tell him about my feelings, he would probably reject me.”

“Raf would never reject you,” Y/B/F/N said. “He would be an idiot too. You are obviously not the same little girl who lived next door to him.” “I guess.”

“Y/N, you are going to this game Saturday and you are going to tell Raf that you are in love with him. Then, you will live happily ever after.”

“Being an English major has made you see everything romantically. It could all turn to crap.”

“It will not, because if he hurts you, I will hurt him.” Y/B/F/N put on a tough expression and pretended to crack her knuckles.

I chuckled. “Stop before you hurt yourself.”

Unlike most weeks, Saturday ended up rolling around rather quickly and it was because I was reluctant about what I would have to do. Sure, Raf and I had been talking frequently during the days leading up to the game, but I was still nervous about telling him that I was in love with him. It didn’t help that the other fans in Camp Nou were making me nervous as they cheered, screamed, and chanted on the way inside.

Fortunately, Y/B/F/N and I got pulled aside to be taken to the VIP area, which was right by the pitch.

“Oh my gosh, there’s Neymar!” Y/B/F/N’s eyes widened as she watched her favorite player stretch.

Raf was talking to the coach when he suddenly made eye contact with me and smiled. I smiled back and waved.

“I should not have done that. I looked like a dork.”

“Yeah, well, you are my dork,” Y/B/F/N said.

They were playing PSG and it was going to be an intense game since it was a Champions League match. I was confident in FC Barcelona but I was also nervous. I didn’t like watching my best friend lose and even though I’ve only been in Spain for four months, I had grown attached to the football team.

The match turned out to be extremely intense with both sides playing aggressively against each other. Barca fans were yelling curses in Catalan at the PSG fans who dared to show up in our arena while the PSG yelled crude things in French whenever one of their players scored a goal. Rafinha was obviously annoyed at the progress of the game since he maintained a straight face. However, he was clenching his jaw, the number one sign that he was upset with himself. I wanted to help him calm down the same way I used to back in Sao Paolo, but I forced myself to sit there (and occasionally stand) whenever I got angry about a yellow card getting pulled or when we scored a goal. Unfortunately, that night, FC Barcelona lost to PSG, meaning we moved down in the rankings. A lot of fans were angry----Y/B/F/N and I included----but I saw the look on Raf’s face. It was a mixture of disappointment, anger, and frustration. I wanted nothing more than to comfort him right then and there. There was no telling what these fans would tweet or comment to him later today and I could only imagine what they would say.

“I guess we are all going to need that post-game drink,” Y/B/F/N said as she stood up to leave.

“Mmhhmm,” I said. “I have to talk to Raf.”

“Are you sure?”

“I know him like the back of my hand, he is going to need someone to talk to.”

Y/B/F/N hesitated but agreed to go with me to meet Raf. He had managed to get us into yet another VIP area: waiting outside the locker room with the press and WAGs. I nervously ran my hands through my hair, anxious to see Raf. The last thing he or the other players must want is to be hounded by press hounds.

It felt like forever before the players started walking out: Messi first, then Suarez, Gerard, Arda, Umtiti and finally, Raf. He looked dejected but so good in his all-black suit. Something automatic happened in me where I walked up to him, threw my arms around his neck, and hugged him. He didn’t hesitate to hug me back, causing a little stir with the news reporter.

“Me desculpe pelo jogo,” I whispered.

“It will be all right, I just hate losing,” he muttered back. “I don’t like disappointing people.”

“Everyone has their off days, Raf, but you did pretty great in my eyes.” I pulled away and smiled. “There’s always next week.”

“I suppose.”

I don’t know if it was his slightly happier demeanor or the way he looked in his eyes, but I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “I love you. I...I have since I was fourteen.” Raf looked stunned and since he wasn’t speaking, I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

“I know this is the last thing you wanted to hear coming from me, but it is true. I know you see me like your little sister but you are so much more than a brother to me. I worry about you all the time and I think you are an amazing player, an amazing friend, and anyone would be lucky to have you. So, I will not be upset if you pick some model or someone closer to your age over---”

He cut me off with a kiss. It was sweet but passionate and I couldn’t help myself but kiss back. The butterflies in my stomach were erupting at a higher speed than ever before and I loved it. When he pulled away, he had a silly smile on his face.

“I love you too, luaca, always have, always will.”

#rafinha alcantara #rafinha alcantara imagine #football #footballer imagine #requested

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