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there’s a familiarity between them that doesn’t exist in any of her other relationships. they’re not simply richard and miranda– here, they’re richie and mira, and things are simple and sweet and just how she always envisioned them to be. she thought that running away to something more quaint might, perhaps, squash any of the feelings she had for him. but they were running rampant as ever, a forest fire in her heart that was spreading and making it hard to breathe. she knew that the moment she saw him, she’d breathe in and it would be easy and simple once more. “oh, what, you think i can’t get you out of french jail? i have quite a bit of sway around here.” mira, mira, mira. if she wasn’t coming before, she’s certainly coming now. “i live in rouen. very charming.” you should visit, the words are unspoken. “i can get to an airport just fine.” she’s sobering up by the minute, the gravity of the situation dawning upon her. “i’ll have a bag packed and i’ll be on my way to the airport within… thirty minutes? forty five?” a hefty pause. “oh, who are we kidding, give me an hour.” she’d always had a knack for being fashionably late.

“ rouen. ” he repeated, but it sounded a lot more like please than like the name of a place should sound. rouen. — the text exchanges back and forth with his assistant filled the details needed for the logistics in it to work, my jet will take too long, rent a private one in france i don’t care how much it costs, have it ready to departe in a hour, it has to land somewhere close so the driver can pick her up, no, no, scratch that, i’ll pick her up. “ of course, how could i forget ? you could convince the sun to stop and give you some time, what’s a measly justice system ? ” richard chuckled. eight hours was too much already, he wanted her there, in that very moment. he wanted to reach out and touch her. “ it’ll be ready for you when you get to the airport, just say you are looking for the roosevelt’s jet. i gave them your name, but i don’t trust my assistant’s french either. ” there was a sigh. loud and calm and it felt like breathing — for the first time in a while, it felt like breathing — and that’s what it took for richard to realize that he missed her more than he missed air. “ does it sound too needy if i say i wish you were here already ? ‘cause if it does then i didn’t say that. ” he tried a chuckle, but it felt far too soft.

#slcwdisco‌#╰ * richard roosevelt ╱ interactions

well i have a crush on wagner moura now thanks to narcos and i don’t know what to do about that

#should i gif him and make a character #or am i the only one dumb enough to have this crush #╰ * shut up manu ╱ ooc #someone pls tell me they also find him attractive so i'll feel btter

slcwdisco‌:

the more they talk, miranda can’t quite remember why she had called him in the first place. was it because she knew this was exactly how things would transpire? some banter, a smile upon her face, resulting with her at his doorstep? perhaps. or perhaps she just wanted the comfort of his voice and being in conversation with someone who understood her. someone who saw her. a laugh leaves her, a true belly laugh. she sits up and sets the phone on the coffee table, letting her eyes flutter shut once more to soak the sound of his voice into her skin, her bones. “i don’t know. hershel might just give your father a run for his money.” the words are fond and they’re teasing and they’re filled with something she reserves for richard and richard alone. “richie…” a breathy sigh leaves her and she collapses back into the expensive couch. “give your pilot a ring and let him know that i’ll be packing my bags.” she can feel the smile growing on her face. “we’re doing this, aren’t we?”

he heard the nickname and that was it. a long heavy sigh escaping his lips, the attempt at comedy giving way for honest. richie. — the one thing that separated richard then, from richard now. — no one else called him richie, not really, not he could remember. it was mr. roosevelt, how can i help, what are we gonna do. it was dick, when are you gonna start taking things seriously. it was richard, are you listening to me. they didn’t say his name, they requested for the presence of their boss, or caring son, or bad boyfriend. here, mr. roosevelt, richard, dick, now. “ god, i’ll fistfight him myself if it means having you here, mira. then we can call richard ii to get me out of french jail. ” and then there was miranda, an ocean away, calling him richie. just richie. nothing else. " what’s the name of your town ? do you guys have an airport ? i can probably get you a car to get you to the nearest airplane too, but my french is a little rusty. ” he had texted his assistant, had already requested that things — whatever things really meant — been fixed for her. “ when can you leave ? ”

#slcwdisco‌#╰ * richard roosevelt ╱ interactions

floralege·:

cilla’s had one too many glasses, though she deemed them necessary after the onslaught of invasive questions that plagued her through the night —- namely how she felt about being the next one to marry, as if the thought alone didn’t make her shudder. “ frankly, a lavish party would be the only thing to make getting married tolerable. it’s the other part —- going home, having a normal life —- that terrifies me. ” apparently, the bubbly’s made her dangerously honest … and with someone she’s yet to become too familiar with. pink lips curve upwards, eyebrows arched thoughtfully, “ you’re richard, aren’t you ? the big brother. ” of her future betrothed, no less.

“ oh, god, no. ” he hated even the idea of it. “ first of all, my mom and dad ? in the same room ? horrible idea. second of all, the endless just meaningless chatter. ” he let out a loud exaggerated groan. “ have this people never had a conversation before ? ” it tookrichard a second, a moment or two too long, “ i mean, yes, i am richard, the big brother, although not usually recognized for that. ” it was only when the source of recognition came to him that he realized who he was walking to. they had met before, hadn’t they ? a quick exchange of names over an afternoon alcohol probably saved him from really remembering. “ oh, you are the fiancee, aren’t you ? ah, i, i mean, shit. congratulations ...? good luck ...? there is still time to run. ” he let out a small laugh.

#floralege‌#╰ * richard roosevelt ╱ interactions #we stan drunk honest legendes

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