#just because i always wonder if top chose to stay instead of going to boston

[athousandbyeol]

for tonight. [topmew fanfic]

if you come, i'll show you all sides of him you've been dying to know. and you'll see that he's just a cunning little monster in disguise. and you'll understand that mew and i are no different.

or a retelling of episode 3 part 4 where top doesn't meet boston and chooses to stay with mew instead.

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

Hi! Could you possibly give some of your favorite finished chaptered reddie fics?❤

Well do I ever! Enjoy these amazing fics by some amazing people! Its an extensive list so I’ve put it under a read more so as not to clog the tag! 

Is there somewhere by @tozier-boy | 11/11 | complete | explicit

Richie didn’t belong in boring, old fashioned, small Derry, that was for sure.

Richie Tozier wore leather jackets and ripped jeans. Richie Tozier had his ear pierced and he painted his nails black. Richie Tozier wore combat boots and let his curls grow wild and messy. Richie Tozier always had headphones around his neck and sometimes he wore eyeliner. Richie Tozier smoked weed on the school ground and told teachers to shut the fuck up. Richie Tozier was tall and skinny and he wore bands tank tops. Richie Tozier was the reason why Eddie had started biting his lower lip way more frequently than he did before.

Zero Characters Left by @stellarbisexual | 18/18 | complete | explicit 

Eddie works in social media at a tech start-up in Boston, and Richie's been hired to do some video production for the company.

Characters are aged-up to their late twenties, and this takes place in 2017.

Bright as yellow by @speakslowtellmelove | 30/30 | complete | mature 

“‘Remember that hot guy I couldn’t stop turning around to stare at while watching the movie? Y’know, the one I stalked? He’s being hilarious in my math class full of nerds.’ You honestly think that’s my fault, Eds?”

Eddie felt his cheeks heating up, because Richie was right about all of it. Well, most of it. “My name is Eddie, not Eds. And I didn’t stal–”

“Nice to meet you, Eddie. See, isn’t that better? Eddie and Richie, Richie and Eddie. R plus E. It has a nice ring to it.”

the sea around us by @eddiefuckinkaspbrak & @tozier-boy | 26/26 | complete | explicit 

Prince Edward, is due to marry Princess Myra in order to help secure his kingdom financially. In a last ditch effort to be free and fulfil a lifelong dream of travelling the world, he sneaks out of his window and on board a pirate ship. Captain Richie Tozier’s pirate ship.

or Prince Eddie & Pirate Richie AU

Beep-beep, Eddie Kaspbrak by Ragno | 5/5 | complete | mature

Eddie Kaspbrak is 14 years old and he just defeated a demonic clown along with his friends.

Eddie Kaspbrak is 16 years old and he's fighting against himself and the way he feels and the way he thinks.

Eddie Kaspbrak is 18 years old and he'd much rather fight a demonic clown all over again than face his true feelings for Richie Tozier.

The Order by @s-s-georgie | 10/10 | complete | mature

“You guys lost too?”

“Nope. Believe it or not Silent Hill is my actual destination.”

- The Silent Hill Au Literally no one asked for but you're getting anyway.

far too young to die (part one) by @catsbrak | 17/17 | complete | explicit

Eighteen year old seamster Eddie Kasprak is forced to put his survival skills to the test when he’s selected in the reaping for the 27th Annual Hunger Games, where twenty-four young ‘tributes’ who are gathered from each of the twelve districts must fight to the death. Eddie forms close bonds, his priorities undergoing a drastic shift, and he instead takes on a more difficult task: to try and protect his friends.

(in other words, the reddie hunger games AU no one asked for, and everyone will hate me for)

Kryptonite by hoeziertozier | 13/13 | complete | explicit

‘Richie looked down and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “There’s a reason I came to New York.”

“Isn’t it because of your job?”

“Yeah, but there’s a reason I specifically chose New York. I mean, it’s Wonder Boy’s home.”

Eddie choked on air. For the first time in ages, he wanted to use his inhaler. “What?“

"Yeah, I’m kinda obsessed with him. He’s, like, my idol.”

So, his new roommate was his superhero persona’s fanboy. Yep, that was definitely not going to be a problem.’

Or, the self-indulgent Superhero!Eddie and Superfan!Richie AU that literally nobody asked for.

Just Survive Somehow by @s-s-georgie | 21/21 | complete | mature

When the world ended, and the dead rose to eat the living, it turned into kill or be killed, but how do you survive when the creatures around you are constantly evolving?

Wishes by strictlyamess | 14/14 | complete | mature

It's one thing to vacation at the Happiest Place on Earth with all your friends.

Working there with them is another thing entirely.

(or: the Disney World Employee/Cast Member AU written by a former Disney World Cast Member that some people asked for but most did not)

Operation: Hawaii Honeymoon by @tinyarmedtrex | 9/9 | complete | mature

A plan formed in Eddie’s head. One that would benefit them both. “Does your ex have an instagram?” Eddie asked. Eddie shook his head. “Do you want to make her jealous?”

“More than anything.”

“Hear me out then.” Eddie said, plunging forward even though he knew his idea was ridiculous. “What if you came to Hawaii with me? We’ll act like the perfect couple- she’ll get jealous, maybe want you back, and Myra will have to accept that I’m gay and will leave me alone.”

Richie looked up at him, a noodle dangling out of his mouth. “What?”

[ or Eddie and Richie meet on a plane to Hawaii and strike up a deal. Pretend to be lovers to make Richie’s ex-girlfriend jealous and convince Eddie’s ex-fiance Myra that he’s gay. What could go wrong?]

Inexhaustible Source of Magic by @jem-carstairs-is-perfection & @tinyarmedtrex | 17/17 | complete | teen 

The Triwizard Tournament is back at Hogwarts and this time, two students from each school will be chosen to participate. When Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak are elected by the Legendary Goblet of Fire to compete, they must come together as a team and overcome their differences to prove to themselves and to others what they are capable of.

ask me to stay by @richietoizer | 7/7 | complete | teen

“Your lip is all busted,” Eddie said, as though pointing out that Richie’s lips were injured would somehow make it okay that Eddie was paying attention to them. Richie’s hand came up, long fingers wrapping around Eddie’s tiny wrist, and he gently guided Eddie’s touch away.

Eddie finally wrenched his eyes away from Richie’s lips and met his best friend’s gaze. There was a softness there that he rarely got to see, not even the smallest hint of teasing or joking there. It was just Richie, just Richie looking at him and Eddie looking back. For a single moment, it was just Richie and Eddie alone in the world. Nothing to bother them, nothing to live up to.

[or: the year is 1994, and Eddie Kaspbrak is in love.]

Sex, Money, Murder by @studpuffin | 8/8 | complete | explicit

“The only sin is mediocrity.” ― Martha Graham

the years go by like days by georgiestauffenberg | 4/4| complete | mature 

It’s Eddie he wants to get a hold of, though, and he does, tucking him under his arm, and ruffling his hair, making him laugh. He’s startled when Eddie looks at him with such happy, shining eyes. And, for a split-second, he’s tempted to kiss him right then, right there in front of everyone.

He wants to. Badly. He doesn’t.

He leans in, instead, and he smacks a loud, wet kiss to Eddie’s cheek, punctuating it with a “mwah!” He does it again and again. “I’m so proud of my little Eds Spagheds!”

“Get off me!” Eddie says, laughing and shoving him away, swatting at his hands.

AU. in the 27 years in-between, Richie and Eddie forget a lot, but they don't forget each other.

Fall Away From Me (I Just Can’t Take It) by @thelazyeye | 6/6 | complete “ explicit 

It’s okay, though, Eddie tells himself. It’s all fine. This is part of their arrangement. This is a casual thing they have going. It’s his own stupid fault for catching feelings for someone he agreed to casually fuck. Especially when that person is his best friend from childhood.

It Was Always You by eddie_kaspbraktozier | 12/12 | complete | teen

Eddie, miraculously, survives the fight with Pennywise. Richie is still hopelessly in love with him, even after all of these years. As Richie stays with Eddie to help him with his recovery and divorce, he tries to find the courage to tell Eddie his true feelings.

Eddie wakes up after the fight with Pennywise to realize his whole life has been a lie – his asthma, his marriage, god, his whole adult life. Although now, Eddie is finally free to decide what he wants out of life. Eddie slowly comes to realize his feelings for his best friend.

Told in alternating point of views – Richie and Eddie’s.

OR

IT Chapter Three. The ending we deserve.

IDK, spooky stuff by varnes | 3/3 | complete | explicit 

“You’re a ghost hunter, aren’t you?” Georgie reminded him. “And he’s a ghost, or something. So obviously the police won’t find him, but you guys can, with all your equipment. You can find him and make the murders stop.”

From the couch, Richie’s whole face was lit up with delight. That was always a bad sign.

“I don’t know, Georgie,” Bill said, but before he could get the words all the way out, Richie was leaping up and yanking the phone out of his hand.

“Murderous ghost circus performer, love it, love it,” he announced. “Georgiekins, say no more, not one word, we are absolutely going to come bust the shit out of this clown.”

-

Or: the quasi-BFU AU where Bill, Stan, Bev and Richie go to Derry to hunt a ghost. Featuring a one-armed boy out for revenge; a Tiny Smol hotel clerk who can't decide if he wants to fight Richie or marry him; The Hot Fireman From LA?!; a local librarian who just wants to read books to children in peace; and, of course, Pennywise the clown.

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Earth 5620 - Chapter 1

Summary: When fractures start appearing across the world, S.W.O.R.D. and S.H.I.E.L.D. work together to create a team of...specialists. It’ll take them coming together to stop two dimensions from colliding.

Word Count: 2604 words

Warnings: Um, none that I can think of?

Marvel Kiddos

A/N: I haven’t written anything on here in a WHILE. So I hope you like it. :)

--

January 15th. Seattle. Washington

Covert. That was what they were supposed to be in this moment. Calm, cool, collected. Gathering information because this was a clusterfuck. They were waiting for higher-ups. That was their orders. Still, when she got the call, this wasn’t what she had expected.

A split between dimensions.

Cracked – but who swung the hammer? Who manipulated the reality?

Boots scuffed against concrete as she reached for it. The best way to learn was to discover. That was what she always believed and now seemed just as good a time as any to practice that idea.

“Director Carter.”

Sharon sighed. Her hand dropped to her side as she turned to see who S.W.O.R.D. had sent to help. “It’s not exactly comforting when they send in their best, Captain Rambeau.”

Monica smirked. She loved being sent in. Desk work did her no good and she figured the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. was the same way. “What is it?” She gestured to the crack. No, Fracture. Definitely a Fracture. It was too big. Too noticeable to be anything else.

“Was hoping you could tell me. This area is more your specialty, don’t you think?”

Her smirk grew into a smile as Sharon gave her a knowing look. It was true. S.H.I.E.L.D. specialized in super soldiers, arrogant billionaires, and things like vibranium. Mutants too, but that was because of Sharon’s aunt. There was a special interest there for them.

S.W.O.R.D. handled the weird and freaky. Things that had no real explanation. Infinity Stones…Alternate Realitiess? Or Aliens? Powers that were more than genetics and Masters of the Mystic Arts? That was Monica’s area.

There was a mutual respect between the two. One neither woman would ever dare to overstep even if their specialties chose to intertwine.

She turned her attention back to the Fracture, circling it. However, as she reached its side, the crack vanished. “It’s two dimensional.” She glanced at Sharon who mirrored her movements.

Sure enough. It was like looking through a window.

“I’ll get my men to do some readings.” Monica was already heading back to the vehicles, knowing her men were waiting on an update. “Let’s see if there’s anything on the other side.”

Surprisingly quiet, Sharon couldn’t take her eyes off the anomaly. As interesting as “another side” sounded, she had to wonder –

Was this the only occurrence?

March 19th New Orleans. Louisiana

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

Monica’s gaze shifted from the Fracture to her newest guests. “Director Carter.” She didn’t move from her spot on the ground. The reactor in her hand was still struggling to get a reading. The last thing she needed was to mess that up. “This is only the second, remember?”

“Yeah, but I’m worried about the lack of information.”

Monica sighed. Passing off the reactor to a S.W.O.R.D. operative, she rose to her feet and walked around the Fracture. It was at least twenty feet long – more than twice the size of the one in Seattle. And she wasn’t the only one to notice. She joined Sharon’s side and only just noticed the worry on Sharon’s face. It was etched so deep in her features, as strong and unwavering as diamond. Monica understood her fear. Truly.

Things had grown considerably calmer since Thanos was destroyed. This sparked problems and no one had a clue how big they were. The questions were surpassing their answers and it was enough to make both women feel ill.

“Let my specialists work, okay? If a third pops up, we’ll talk about a POA. But right now, it could be a coincidence. We got a lot of them in this line of work.” With a gentle nudge and a friendly smile, Monica reminded her, “You know that.”

“The last time we believed something was a coincidence, we had to learn the hard way that Hydra and Weapon X were one and the same.”

Monica winced. “Okay. Bad choice of words.” Looking back, she knew they should worry. At least a little. But she didn’t want to react yet. Sharon was always ready for a fight. And while Monica was too, there had been a fair amount of peace that she wasn’t ready to let go of.

Not yet.

May 7th. Boston. Massachusetts

Darcy couldn’t take her eyes off of it. It looked as if glass was breaking. In the middle of the air. It sounded ridiculous, she knew that, but it was an accurate description. This was something she would expect from an Asgardian visit. Instead – it was hovering in the middle of the Boston Public Garden. Appearing out of nowhere.

She’d guess it was at least a mile long and half a mile wide. It was huge.

“That looks weird.”

“You could say that again.” Darcy kept up her trek across the ridiculously huge park. She looked ahead and found the guy that had spoken. He wasn’t paying attention to anyone that had run away or the officers that were attempting to evacuate the park. He was completely wrapped up in the same thing she had been staring at. She joined his side. “Doctor Darcy Lewis – astrophysicist.”

He hadn’t realized she had spoken to him until she cleared her throat. Pulled from his thoughts, he glanced down at her and nodded. “Will.”

“You’re not scared of it?” Darcy raised a brow. Did he have a death wish?

Will chuckled. He propped his glasses on top of his head and gave her his full attention. His eyes – a splattering of rainbows and crystals – were almost impossible to look at. “I’m really good with weird.”

Behind them, just entering the park, Monica and Sharon slowed their run. It seemed their realization was mutual. This wasn’t just a couple cracks, or Fractures as Monica called them, this was something big. Very big.

Unable to tear her eyes away, Monica asked Sharon, “So you remember that POA I mentioned?”

She nodded. “I got a couple ideas. A few phone calls we can make.”

May 12th. Afghanistan. South Asia

He should be lifting spirits right now, being a leader.That was all that was on his mind. Hope was key – especially with the men and women. Their chance to go home had been prolonged for another five months. Five months with no contact for his soldiers. No way of reaching their families.

It was so much to ask of them. And instead of trying to give them hope, he was here. Why? He spared a glance across the room, recognizing the other guy. He was lower rank, but a specialist. His name – Benjamin couldn’t bring himself to remember it.

“You’re Master Sergeant Rogers, right?”

Benjamin couldn’t hide his surprise. There was no way. But as surprised as he was, he was also impressed. “Yeah. And you shouldn’t be talking.”

The specialist chuckled, shoulders shaking. “Our parents fought together.”

“How did you know? No one else – “

“Everyone knows. We just don’t say it.”

Benjamin huffed, nostrils flaring. He looked away only for a moment before remembering, “You’re Clint’s and Nat’s kid. Jensen, right?” He nodded and Ben shifted in his seat. “I’m sorry. About her – your mom, I mean.”

Jensen scoffed. “Look, we don’t have to get into that. I was just pointing out that we’re Superkids. That’s probably why we’re here.”

An awkward silence fell between them. Jensen, who had no interest in acknowledging the tension, simply stayed put. But Ben found himself counting the seconds, the minutes.

It took ten of them. Ten minutes of uncomfortable tension before the door finally opened.

The two stood, backs tense and hands poised, ready to salute whoever walked through those doors.

They hadn’t expected to see James Woo, FBI agent and overall awkward individual. He nodded, offering a curt smile as he said, “Hi.”

Ben and Jensen shared a look, hands already mid salute when Jimmy shook his hands.

“Don’t do that. Seriously. I’m here with a friend and we…Well, we need your help.”

Furrowed brows and confusion hung in the air. It seemed a million questions silently morphed over their features before they saw Jimmy’s friend enter behind him.

Ben smiled, recognizing her from many a training session. “Captain Rambeau.”

“Master Sergeant Rogers.” She smiled. “It’s been a while.”

“Just a decade or so.”

The two shared a laugh, easing a bit of the tension in the room. And while that was great for them, it left one person still in the dark. Jensen shifted from one foot to the other, raising a hand as if he had to be called on. “Look, reunions are great and all, but can I bring up the elephant in the room? Why’re you here?” He pointed to himself and Ben. “And why’re we?”

Monica huffed. “About that…”

Queens. New York

Flying through the air, an excited laugh tumbled from her lips. She landed on the fire escape with ease and released the webbing. Sparing one quick glance, fingers curled around her window and she crawled inside.

It fell shut behind her. With a sharp exhale, the mask was tugged off and her massive curls freed. Lena checked her appearance for a quick moment. Flipping her hair and nudging it with her fingers, she was satisfied enough. Next came removing the Spidersuit, replacing it with comfy, pink joggers and keeping the sports bra.

She was home. Extra effort didn’t have to be made in her attire.

“Lena!”

She squeaked, jumping a foot in the air when she heard her father’s voice. Normally, it was Lena’s mom shouting for her to do the dishes or some other boring chore. Her dad didn’t yell. He didn’t like yelling. Grabbing her phone, she was quick to leave her room only to find herself particularly confused when she saw her dad wasn’t alone.

Well, at least the yelling made sense now.

“Dad?”

Peter looked up. That goofy smile of his, the one she had known all of her life, was staring right back at her. But it was different. Proud? Maybe that was the word? Not surprising. He was always proud of her. “Hey, how was school?”

“It was good.” Her eyes drifted back to the blonde. She was edgy in a weird sort of way. While Lena had grown up hearing how rough and tough her mom was, this woman was different. She redefined the meaning of the word. “Who’s this?”

“This is Sharon Carter. She’s the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Hey, Miss Parker.” Sharon offered a smile. It was enough to melt the edges away. She softened, but Lena didn’t buy it. It was too much. As if Sharon was trying to relate to her.

“Yeah, cool. What’s this about? I have homework.”

Peter leaned against the counter. “Since when do you care about homework?”

Lena pouted. Okay, that was fair. But she found herself taking a quick step back when Sharon walked around the dining table.  It was weird. She should trust her. Her dad did. But their histories in the Superworld were different. And this wasn’t a face she recognized.

“Is this you?”

Lena’s gaze shifted from Sharon’s face to the clip on her phone. It was her in her Spidersuit, swinging in and out of those random cracks that had appeared in the MoMa in Queens and the Brooklyn Museum. According to the news, a couple more had popped up in New Jersey and California. She shrugged. “Um…yeah. No one had closed them off yet.”

Sharon’s face morphed into that of amusement. She zoomed out on the clip, showing the warnings and Agents that were securing the area or had just finished.

A blush tinted Lena’s cheeks as she looked from parent to agent and back again. “Am I in trouble?”

Sharon shook her head as Peter grinned from ear to ear. “Far from it actually. If it’s okay with you, I’d really appreciate your help.”

May 20th. S.W.O.R.D. Headquarters

Terrance’s fingers impatiently drummed on the steering wheel. He really didn’t like this idea. He didn’t trust it. “Look I know Dad wanted us to help out Sharon ‘cause she’s family, but we don’t know anything about these guys.”

“Sure we do.” Sasha’s small smile didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t like it either. She definitely didn’t trust it. “We’ve known Sharon since Dad and Papa adopted us. And neither of them would send us anywhere they didn’t think was safe.”

Terrance parked the car, getting out as Sasha followed suit. “I’m just saying, there are a lot of other big-name heroes they could be calling. This isn’t our territory.”

“And I couldn’t agree more, but I did my research. S.W.O.R.D. helped take down Weapon X and Hydra. They played a big part in bringing our parents back. We can do this.” She looked at Terrance. “But I’m not going in if you aren’t.”

He looked at the massive building, having to crane his neck. It was huge. Gaudy. Too much for people who were supposed to be blending in to do good. “They just want our abilities, Sash.”

“Maybe. But what if they need us?”

His distaste shifted to a plain, old grimace that he had given his sister one too many times. “I hate when you do that.”

She laughed. “And I love it.”

The two stepped inside the building. It was too bright. Too clean. Neither of them liked it, but they had grown used to this being “normal” for these types of organizations. You must look good to do your job. At least that was what these groups shoved down their throats.

“Maggie!” Sasha immediately brightened at the sight of her old friend making her way towards them.

“Hey, guys.” Smile unwavering, Maggie tackled the two in a hug. It made Sasha soften, but Terrance was still tense. Some things never change. “Guessing it was Uncle Bucky that talked you into this?”

“More Dad actually,” Terrance told her.

Though surprised, Maggie appreciated that Sam had managed to do this. “Well, I’m just glad to see two familiar faces,” she admitted. “C’mon. I was just heading towards Monica’s office.”

--

The screaming could be heard far before they actually reached the door. Terrance grimaced, already looking at Sasha as if she owed him for getting him here. Who could have caused such a huge fight when they weren’t even there yet?

And hearing so many voices, he had to wonder – how many people had they asked for help?

“Um, I think we’re in here.” Maggie grabbed the door. With a sharp tug, she held it open for them and gave them a peak of the chaos inside.

Overlapping voices, overwhelmingly loud. A girl in a green Spidersuit hung from the ceiling with no intension of coming down. A blonde guy, super tall and screaming “Captain America” vibes was currently holding back a smaller, brunet.

That was the guy doing most of the shouting. And it wasn’t to everyone. No. It was to one guy. He was arrogant, smirking because he clearly held the power. He wasn’t shouting. He didn’t feel the need to. Instead, he shrugged and waved to the newest additions in the room.

One guy currently being shielded by two familiar faces. Monica and Sharon. They were desperately trying to calm down the screaming guy.

And then there was the last one – standing by the door. He looked over his shoulder, nodding to Terrance, Sasha, and Maggie. “Glad you could join us.”

Terrance shook his head, his elbow hitting Sasha’s rib. She hissed, rubbing her side as she muttered, “Ow.”

He gave her the look. That look that every sibling gave when they truly meant what they said next. “You owe me.”

--

Tag list is open? If you want? Lol

[storiesforallfandoms]

the runner ~ hotch;criminal minds

word count: 2562

request?: yes

@stiffinme “I’d like to request a Criminal Minds story, please! One with Hotch, while he’s in witness protection and they have to ask him to babysit another witness because she keeps giving her handlers the slip and has escaped them multiple times, getting as far away as several states before they find her again. And they’re hoping he can corralled cuz he can read behavior before she runs. I would like her to be called Steph, please!”

description: while under witness protection himself, aaron hotchner is tasked with looking after another witness with a history of escaping her handlers

pairing: hotch x female!reader

warnings: spoilers for up to season 12, swearing, things may get a little steamy ;) (also, not sure if this is a “warning” but I stopped watching Criminal Minds after Shemar Moore/Derek Morgan left the show so I’m really not caught up, have no idea what this plotline about Hotch being in witness protection is so if I get anything wrong feel free to let me know and I’ll edit the imagine)

The last thing Aaron Hotchner expected to see when he was put into Witness Protection was two agents stood at the door of his safe house, asking him to help them with another witness.

“Why me?” he found himself asking. “I’m not an agent anymore, I thought you weren’t supposed to ask me to engage in anything FBI related while I’m in Witness Protection.”

“We’re not,” one agent responded. “Not really. There’s going to be a handler with the two of you at all times, you’ll both be watched as you’re supposed to be, just together instead of separate. We’re just hoping...you’ll be able to help us to understand why she keeps running.”

Aaron looked down at the picture that was placed before him. One of the agents was holding the file on the witness, a young woman named Steph, which Aaron wasn’t allowed to see, for obvious reasons. He was only given the information he was allowed to know: Steph was a runner. She continuously gave her handlers the slip and managed to get as far away as a different state before she was tracked down and had to be given another protection identity. She had been under Witness Protection for only a year, but proved to be the hardest witness they had.

“Your job was to read people, to find things out about them just by their behavior,” the second agent explained. “We think you’ll be able to help us to stop her from running.”

“What about my son?” Aaron asked. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to leave Jack all by himself, especially with Mr. Scratch still out there looking for the two of them.

“We'll watch him until you return,” the agent responded. “It’ll only take a month, maybe two. If the two months comes to pass and she’s still trying to make a run for it, we’ll bring you back here to Jack.”

Aaron thought it over for a while before deciding, “Okay, I’ll help.”

~~~~~

Aaron was almost shocked to see Steph chained to the fridge in her safe house. According to the agents, she was recently recovered from another run attempt, however instead of moving her to yet another safe house, they handcuffed her to the fridge of the last house she was in while her newest handler watched her.

She looked annoyed. She was staying down her handler, who was paying as little attention to her as possible. She kept pulling at the handcuffs, Aaron could tell she had been doing this for a while as her wrist was starting to become red and raw.

When the two agents entered with Aaron, her attention snapped to them.

“Welcome back, agents!” she responded with mock enthusiasm. “Did you bring me a new friend? I’m so glad you did, Paul here is becoming a bore already. Hi there, I’m Steph, but you have to refer to me as Diana as that’s my newest Witness Protection name.”

“He’s not here to watch you,” one of the agents informed Steph. “He’s also under Witness Protection. We’ve brought him here until a handler can be assigned to him.”

Aaron told the agents on the ride over that it would be best if they didn’t tell Steph what their true intentions with bringing him there were. If she knew that Aaron was there to observe her, she’d make sure to act differently as to throw them off.

“Really?” Steph asked. “And you brought him here with me? With my track record. Yeah, have fun with that guys.” She addressed Aaron as she asked, “Don’t know what you know about me, but I won’t be around too long.”

Aaron nodded but didn’t say anything. He noticed she was very comfortable in this situation, with talking to the agents the way she was. They were supposed to be guarding her life, although obviously she didn’t care all that much if she kept running away.

The current handler, Paul, stood from where he was sat and approached Steph. “I’m going to uncuff you, but only so you can show our guest where he’ll be staying. You make a run for it, he’ll call for us. Right?”

Aaron nodded again.

Steph rolled her eyes. “I suppose I could stick around long enough to help the new guy settle in. This can be his place when I make my grand disappearing act again.”

She stood from the floor, rubbing at her sore wrist, before turning to Aaron. “Come with me, new guy, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

She didn’t wait to see if he was following her, not that she could’ve gone far while he wasn’t. The house was a small, single level, two bedroom house, small enough to go unnoticed by anyone but big enough for the two people who were staying there.

Steph brought him into the living room and made a grand gesture to the couch. “This is your luxurious bedroom where you’ll be staying. The couch folds out to a not very comfortable bed, but unfortunately that’s the only kind of accommodations we can offer you in this small ass house, so for your benefit I hope you find a handler very soon.”

“Thank you,” Aaron said with a nod.

“It’s whatever,” Steph shrugged. “It’ll be kind of cool to have someone around who’s not a boring ass agent.”

“Even if you’re not staying around that long?” Aaron asked.

Steph’s slightly smile quickly fell. “Yeah, yeah even if I won’t be around long.”

She left the room without another word and Aaron noticed something else about her - behind her uncaring and sarcastic façade was just a hint of something else: fear.

~~~~~

That night Aaron was sat on the couch in Steph’s safe house. When he was taken away, he didn’t get a lot of time to take anything personal or valuable from his house. The one thing he did manage to take, however, was a picture of himself, Jack, and his ex-wife, Haley.

Even after he had gotten into other relationships following Haley’s death, it had always been his favourite picture, because it reminded him of happier times. A time when Jack was still little, when Aaron’s job hadn’t taken over his life, when he and Haley were happy. He missed her more than anything. Haley was his first true love, and he absolutely regretted letting anything get between them, especially his job, which ended up being the reason for Haley’s death.

“What are you looking at?”

Aaron looked up to see Steph standing at the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. She was wearing a tank top and a pair of pyjama pants. She was carrying two beers in her hand. She flopped down on the couch next to Aaron and offered him one.

“Who’s that?” she asked, nodding to the picture in Aaron’s hand.

“My ex-wife and our son,” Aaron responded.

“How recent of an ex?” Steph asked. “Is she the reason why you’re under protection?”

“No,” Aaron responded. “She...she died a few years ago. Murdered by a serial killer, he called himself The Boston Reaper.”

“Shit,” Steph said. “That’s rough, I’m so sorry. Does that have anything to do with why you’re in protection? Is he back for revenge? If so, I wouldn’t let myself be in protection. I’d beat the shit out of him.”

Aaron offered Steph a small smile. “I already did. I killed him that day.”

Steph nodded, impressed, and offered the neck of her beer to Aaron. He tapped his bottle against hers and they both took a long swig.

“You’re still here,” Aaron noticed. “Waiting for everyone to go to bed?”

“No,” Steph responded. “I haven’t planned out my latest escape yet. Even if I did, why would I tell you? Not only did you tell Paul earlier that you’d let them know if I ran, but I know for certain that you yourself are an agent.” Aaron opened his mouth to protest, but she quickly cut him off, “Please, you scream FBI agent. You’re all serious and down to business, much like the assholes that look over me. I knew from the moment you walked in that you’re not here to be protected, you’re here to do the protecting.”

There was a moment of silence while Steph challenged Aaron to tell her different. When he didn’t, she tipped her head back and chugged the rest of the contents in her beer bottle. When it was all gone, she stood from the couch and started towards the kitchen.

“I am in Witness Protection,” Aaron said, causing Steph to freeze in place and turn to look at him. “And I’m not an FBI agent anymore, for that reason. I was put in protection a few weeks ago, myself and my son. Another killer is after the two of us, one that I managed to escape from years ago. He started stalking my son and we had to leave to be safe.” Steph crossed her arms and opened her mouth to ask why he was telling her all this. He cut her off by saying, “I just wanted to tell you that we didn’t completely lie to you earlier.”

Aaron wondered if Steph would use this moment to bolt. If she did, he wouldn’t have the time to alert Paul and also run after her. He’d have to chose one or the other, and either way she’d be long gone before either men could properly catch her and bring her back. He was preparing for her to run, but was surprised when she approached the couch again and sat next to him.

“Why did you tell me that?” she asked. “I mean why did you go into so much detail? You could’ve just said that wasn’t a lie.”

“I figured if I told you my story, maybe you’d tell me yours,” Aaron responded. “I’ve only been told that you were put in protection a year ago, and that you’ve been running from your handlers ever since.”

Steph scoffed. “And why do you care what my story is?”

“Maybe then I’ll be able to figure out what’s been causing you to keep fleeing. You can learn a lot about a person just from one simple story.”

Steph looked at Aaron for a long time, deciding if she should tell him or not. She pulled her knees up against her chest and hugged them to her, looking like an innocent child as opposed to a grown woman.

She went into her story, telling Aaron about how she ended up needing protection: her boyfriend of nearly three years turned out to be a member of one of the most dangerous gangs. She found this out early on in their relationship, but he assured her that all he did was run drugs for the gang, he wasn’t involved in any of the other horrible things that the gang did. Foolishly, she believed him, until one day she was walking down an empty street and heard a screaming from an alley way. When she went to investigate, she saw her boyfriend standing over three dead bodies with the gun in his hand.

“I ran,” she concluded. “Went to my friend’s house and called the police. They took him and whoever was at his house at the time into custody, but there was still a large amount of gang members out there, ready to come after me. So, they took me and put me into Witness Protection. That was a year ago, they still haven't found all the gang members. I still receive threatening messages from private numbers on my phone every now and then, no matter how many times I get a new phone with a new number.”

“Is that why you keep running?” Aaron asked.

Steph raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were supposed to be able to guess that from my story.”

“I think that’s part of it, but I feel like there’s something else to it.”

Steph sighed. “Yeah, there is. I....I went to see him once before I was put into Witness Protection. A stupid decision, I know, but I just wanted to see him one last time. Closure or something, you know? I didn’t tell him I was being put in Witness Protection, but I did tell him that I was going to have an officer with me at all times to keep me safe, but he told me that wouldn’t be a problem because apparently they have people in the police. Obviously he wouldn’t tell me who, but he said I would never truly be safe.” She wouldn’t meet Aaron’s eye. “That’s why I keep running. I don’t know if the handlers that are sent are on his side or not. I just keep hoping they’ll stop coming after me and let me be.”

“It’s their job to protect you,” Aaron told her.

“But how can you feel comfortable and safe when you don’t know if the next person walking through the door is going to be someone that works for your ex-boyfriend?”

Aaron could understand her worry. She wasn’t just trying to get away, she was trying to stay safe. She was afraid for her life and she didn’t know who she could trust. In her head, she was alone in the world and her only option was to run.

Aaron reached a hand out to touch Steph’s hand. She looked up at him and he noticed for the first time that she had tears in her eyes.

“For as long as I’m being protected, I’ll be here to protect you,” he told her. “Even when I’m free to go home, I’m a former FBI agent, I know how to protect people. As long as you promise not to run anymore.”

Steph looked at Aaron for a long moment in shock. He was starting to think she was going to turn down his offer, which he’d also understand. He had only just met her a few hours earlier, she wasn’t sure if she could trust him just yet or not.

However, Steph shocked Aaron by climbing onto his lap and starting to kiss him deeply. At first, he started to pull away, sure that it was wrong for two under Witness Protection to engage in any sort of relations, but after a moment he calmed into the kiss, allowing himself to enjoy it. He wrapped his arms around Steph, kissing her back with just as much passion. Steph’s hands started moving to his shirt, trying to take it off him, when they both heard the bedroom door open.

Just as fast as she was on his lap, Steph was sat back on the couch next to him. A sheepish Paul exited the room and looked between the two.

“How may I help you, good sir?” Steph asked in a sarcastic tone.

“Just came to get a drink of water. Didn’t mean to disrupt anything,” Paul responded before moving to the kitchen.

Steph leaned close to Aaron to whisper, “He really came out to make sure I was still here. By the way, if you hadn’t noticed, that was me taking you up on your offer. And this - ” She pointed between them, “ - is to be continued.”

She stood from the couch and went to her room. Suddenly, Aaron wasn’t dreading his situation as much.

Sorry if this was bad :/

[boushh2187]

Home for Christmas - Rumbelle Secret Santa 2019

Title: Home for Christmas

Author: boushh2187

Rumbelle Secret Santa 2019 Gift for @crankynerdgirl

Prompt: jealous lovers, miscommunication, happy ending

Fandom/Pairing: Once Upon a Time / Rumbelle

Word Count: 5,798

Summary: A first Christmas together in Storybrooke is complicated by innocent misunderstandings. Non-Magical Storybrooke AU.

Author’s Note: To my giftee: Thank you so much for this prompt. I had a blast writing it! This was your choice of Plan B! :) I had two ideas and you chose this one. I hope you like it! It was an honor being your Santa! Happy Holidays!!

Home for Christmas

Mr. Gold’s Pawn Shop was quiet as he worked carefully on an old pocket watch. He rather enjoyed working on and restoring these old timepieces. There was something satisfying about seeing the hands move and hearing the ticking sound on a watch that was once still and quiet. Just one more adjustment and the job would be done. Raymond Gold looked at the clock on the wall. Just in time. Gold chuckled to himself and set the correct time on the pocket watch. His daily guest would be arriving soon. He might just have enough time to polish the watch before she arrived. 

He took the polish and cloth and began cleaning up the watch. He had a nice, velvet lined box to put it in, and he would leave the wrapping up to his customer. This was to be a holiday gift. Storybrooke was full of townsfolk buying gifts and decorating for the winter holidays. He couldn’t believe how the time flew by. A common saying among people, he knew, but it was different this year for him. This year, something had changed. He couldn’t believe his luck, and how much time had gone by since the fortunate moment when his life had taken a turn for the better. 

He thought back to that stormy day in early June. It had been six months since Belle French had pushed the door open of his shop and jumped in, the wind blowing in behind her... 

The gust of wind pushed at the petite woman, nearly knocking her over as she entered. Belle slammed the door shut with both hands and stood in front of it, dripping wet and trying to pull wet strands of her brown hair out of her eyes. Her light blue rain coat had blown open and the pretty spring dress she wore underneath was soaked. In a mere moment there was a puddle on the floor and she was apologizing profusely for bringing in all the rain water. Gold grabbed a clean and dry towel from the cabinet behind him and went over and handed it to her. He took care not to place his cane on the wet floor, for fear of slipping. “Don’t worry yourself. It’s not a day to be outside!” he reassured her and offered her his arm. She took it with a grateful expression and he led her inside the shop.

“It was lovely before. I was walking on the pier and stopped to talk to someone, and before you knew it the clouds had come in,” she said as she attempted to dry herself off next to the counter. “By the time I came back onto Main Street my umbrella had broken and blown away! Oh look at me, I’m a mess.” Emotion was creeping into her voice. Perhaps she was a bit embarrassed. She needn’t have been. She was always lovely.

“There, there. Come inside the back room. I have more dry towels and you can choose any of the clothes in the shop. Free of charge. I even have a hair dryer in here. I’ll make us some tea and you can ride out the storm in here.”

Before long she had on some dry clothes and dried her hair and was settled in, sitting across the counter from him and sipping her hot tea. “Mmm, I haven’t had Earl Grey in a while,” she said. “Thank you.”

He nodded and sipped his own cup of tea. They made pleasant small talk, and chatted about various goings on in the town.

“You know, I have decided that people have got you all wrong.”

He chuckled. “Oh? Do tell.”

Instead of going on about what the townsfolk thought of him she looked at him with an honest expression and stated, “Well I won’t say what they think, but I think you’re quite kind. Thank you again for helping me out this afternoon.” She reached out and touched his hand lightly. 

“It was no trouble.” He couldn’t think of what else to say. She was the one who was being kind by not mentioning what the townsfolk thought of him. Some just thought him cold, others mean, and others were plain afraid of him. He was a landlord to many, and more than a few people would come into the shop to pawn their things. He was never a social butterfly, but he knew he had become cold and distant since Milah moved away and took their son with her. It had been five years and he only saw his son twice a year. He was heartbroken, and lonely, but didn’t think there was anything to be done about it.

Belle changed that notion. The next day she arrived around noon with a picnic basket full of food for lunch that they shared for an hour, before she had to return to the library where she worked. She said it was to thank him for his kindness, but they had a lovely time. He enjoyed her company, and she must have enjoyed his because she arrived with lunch once again the following day.  It became a daily occurrence. Every day except Sundays when his shop and the library were closed. She didn’t work on Saturdays yet she arrived for lunch. Sometimes he would provide the food items, and other days she would bring something for them to share. 

Part of him didn’t think that she could possibly be interested in him in any other way except in friendship. He was divorced, with a child already, and much older than she was. He was in his late forties while she had just turned 30. He’d walked in on her birthday gathering at Granny’s earlier that year while he was out collecting rent. He was hardly the ideal partner for someone such as herself. Not to mention that he had a bad ankle and wasn’t able to walk without his cane. Meanwhile, she was beautiful, younger, smarter, friendlier, and there were plenty of younger men in town that would be interested. Yet she spent time with him every day, and he felt that there was a good connection between them. It was something he had never quite felt before.

It would take him two months to finally work up the nerve to ask her over for dinner. He was a good cook, and she agreed that she always enjoyed the lunches that he prepared, some of which were leftovers from the night before. She agreed and came over for dinner one evening in August, and it was morning when he drove her home to her apartment above the library. He had gone and opened up his shop in somewhat of a daze, wondering if it had all been a dream. They had been seeing each other ever since. Belle had even taken to calling him her boyfriend. Imagine that?

The little bell above the front door chimed, and there was the person that had so occupied his thoughts these last few months. Belle was holding the door open with her back and pulling in a medium sized soft sided red wagon. She was dressed for the cold, with a woolen grey coat and hat and boots. She pulled the wagon inside and closed the door behind her. Gold felt the gust of cold wind just at that moment and shivered. 

“It’s so warm in here! Thank goodness!” she exclaimed as she pulled her hat and gloves off. “I bought us lunch from Grannys, and I have a Christmas wreath for your shop and for the house. I already dropped the others off at the Library and at Grannys. Father sends his regards, by the way. He decorated the wreaths extra pretty this year.” She held one up for his approval. It was decorated with a big red ribbon, little red and green gifts, holly, and frosted pine cones.

“It’s very fine,” he said, and smirked. “However, I very much doubt your father sent his regards.”

She placed the wreath on the side counter and pulled the cart to the side. She grabbed the bag from Grannys and came over to him. “Well it was more like a grumble, followed by your name, followed by a grumble. Maybe a swear word or two.” 

“Now that’s more like it,” he responded. Needless to say, her father did not approve.

She came around behind the counter and placed the lunch on top of it. “Well he’s also not happy that I’m staying in Storybrooke and not going with him to visit my aunties in Boston. I’ll be seeing them when they visit in the spring. I’d much rather spend the holidays with you.” She put her arms around his neck. Her coat was freezing.

“You need to take this thing off before it turns me into a popsicle,” he said, and started undoing the buttons of her coat for her.

“Shouldn’t you be used to the cold weather, Mr. Scotsman living in Maine?” she teased as she looked up at him with her blue eyes. He looked back smugly as he undid the buttons.

He helped her take her coat off and draped it around the chair, wasting no time in putting his arms around her and pulling her close. “I do just fine in the cold weather, but I would rather be close to you like this instead of that big old frozen coat.”

“Hey, I happen to like that coat. It was a gift from a very handsome man I know.” She lifted up on her toes and kissed him gently on the lips.

He was caught off guard for a moment because he was the one that had given her that coat. He was always surprised to hear these kinds of words about him. She saw him much differently than he saw himself, that was certain.

“If we continue like this much longer lunch is going to get cold,” she said, in a reluctant tone, and disengaged from his embrace. She started setting out their lunch. “Raymond would you mind if we had brunch at Granny’s tomorrow instead of lunch here?”

“That would be very nice, actually. I look forward to it.” He grinned at her as she set the hot soup in front of him. Perfect for the blustery day.

“Great, I promised Granny and Ruby I would help them decorate early in the morning. Remember I told you how it was my mission this year to help anyone with decorations that needed it? This town is so quaint and beautiful that I think it needs to be as festive as early as possible. It’ll bring in more business for everyone, and it’ll just be lovely! Oh! And I was talking with David Nolan earlier. He was saying how he wished he had some extra help at the animal shelter, to make sure the animals feel cared for and loved this time of year, and he needs help with potential adoptions… Anyway, I told him I would be glad to help. So if you’re ever looking for me in the late afternoons I might be over there helping him.”

She was a whirlwind of excitement this afternoon. “That’s all very kind of you Belle. That’s why everyone loves you, unlike my grumpy self.” He grinned and said it half in jest, but it was true that much of the townsfolk didn’t like him. He didn’t have any real friends.

“Oh stop. You’ve been friendly.”

“Thanks to you it somehow happens at times,” he said with a laugh.

“It does!” she insisted. “David likes you! And Ruby too! She just told me how much more personable you’ve been lately. And Mary Margaret invited us over for the Nolans Christmas Eve party. I hope you’ll want to go with me.”

“Of course,” he reached out and squeezed her hand. “You also said you’d like to help me decorate the house. How does this weekend sound? I’ll close the shop on Saturday. You can spend the weekend with me… if you like.”

She smiled brightly at him. “Yes! On one condition.”

He raised an eyebrow, just as he was filled with joy at her immediate acceptance. They’d never spent a weekend together before.

“We do the same for Christmas and New Year’s weekend. I can’t think of a better way to spend it than cozying up at home with you.”

He was certain he was dreaming, but he nodded in response, because he didn’t trust that words would actually come out of his mouth.

They finished lunch and set out to quickly decorate the shop. She found an old radio and tuned it to a holiday station. They put the wreath on the door, he put the menorah in front of the window, and they placed garland and colored lights around the shop. He also took some time to finish polishing the pocket watch. He handed the watch and the box to her. “What do you think?”

“It looks amazing. Father is going to love it. I’m going to make sure to mention how much care and work you put into it.” 

“He’s going to love it because it’s coming from you.” He was pretty sure that it wouldn’t make much of a difference in how the man thought of him.

*****

The next day he arrived at Granny’s for brunch. The wreath Belle had brought for the diner hung on the door as he opened it. There was garland all along the windows, and lights wrapped around the garland. It had the desired festive effect. 

He scanned the diner for Belle as he stepped inside. It didn’t take long for him to find her. She was perched on top of a ladder placing lights along the top of the windowsill in the back of the diner. She was laughing at something David Nolan said. David was steadying the ladder and handing her the remainder of the lights. She wobbled slightly and he steadied her more securely by holding onto the ladder and placing a hand at the small of her back. 

Raymond Gold felt his entire body tense. At first it was with worry when he saw Belle unsteady on the ladder, and then it was with a twinge of jealousy. He tried to shake it away, but he couldn’t help but feel it. David Nolan was tall, very handsome, very friendly, outgoing, and was with his second wife in less than two years, who was also pregnant with his child. If it wasn’t for that last fact, he would be just the kind of man that Belle should have in her life. She obviously seemed to enjoy his company. They were both smiling and chatting and having a grand time. He had to will himself to move instead of keeping himself standing near the doorway clenching his fists. He was aware that several people, including Granny greeted him, but he said nothing in return. He didn’t even look at them. He kept his eyes on Belle and David as he approached them.

“There!” Belle said, brightly. “All done!” She began an attempt to descend. 

“Looks great, Belle!” David said as he reached up to take Belle’s hand.

Before Gold even knew what he was doing he had stepped up to them and placed his cane right on top of David’s foot, and leaned down hard on it.

David shouted and pulled his foot from under the cane. He hopped on one foot for a moment, and Gold took that time to reach out for Belle to take his hand instead. “Oh I’m so sorry, Mr. Nolan. Are you all right?” 

Belle hopped down off of the ladder. “Oh no, David.”

David waved his arms at them. “It’s OK. It’s OK. Just my big clumsy feet getting in the way as usual!” He laughed through gritted teeth and Gold smirked in satisfaction.

“Yes, it’s a wonder you’ve had two different women in your life in such a short time…” muttered Gold under his breath.

“Raymond!” Belle chided him, quietly and nudged his ribs. David was busy rubbing his foot and apparently didn’t hear.

“I have some ice if you need it!” Granny called from behind the counter as she served a plate to a customer. 

David laughed it off and limped off toward the door. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later, Belle. I have to get to work. Goodbye Mr. Gold.”

“Take care, Mr. Nolan. Again, I’m terribly sorry about your foot.” Gold responded, only half sincere.

“Bye David. See you later. Raymond, why don’t you get us a table while Ruby and I take this ladder to the back.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Gold smiled to himself and went off to see if their favorite booth was free.

*****

That Friday Belle waited outside the Storybrooke Library with a packed bag for the weekend. Raymond picked her up in his black Cadillac sedan. That evening they made their favorite pasta dish, and once the dishes were in the dishwasher, and the table was cleared, they set out to decorate the house for Christmas. They tackled outdoors first. Bundled up for the cold they went around and placed the lights on the hedges and shrubbery around the house. 

“Oh my, it’s cold out there!” Belle exclaimed as they rushed back inside. It took them a little longer than expected and the temperature had dropped significantly once the sun had set. She was dressed warmly enough, but even so she felt chilled. She took off her coat and handed it to Raymond to put away.

Raymond took his own coat off and placed it on the rack. “I’ll make us some tea to warm us up… or hot chocolate?” 

“Actually hot chocolate does sound good! I’ll get started on these lights.” She dropped onto the couch and grabbed the first batch. These were to go on the windows inside, and on the tree. She hoped that Raymond would enjoy the house this way. He said he hadn’t bothered to decorate since the last time his son stayed with him for the holidays.

By the time he returned she had untangled two light sets and was onto the third. He placed the tray of hot chocolate and cookies on the table. The cups were steaming and as she expected, he made sure to add the marshmallows. He had said that it was a favorite of his and his son’s. It was something that the three of them had in common, she thought with a smile.

Raymond was about to sit down with her when the phone rang. He sighed audibly. “Who could it be at this time? Excuse me, please.”

“Don’t worry about me. I have cookies.” He grinned and she watched him head back to the kitchen. She loved his smile. She was quite pleased with herself whenever she got him to exercise those dimples.

The hot chocolate was still steaming so she did indeed nibble on a cookie. The lights could wait a little bit. She settled back into the couch and looked around the house. She wondered if there was mistletoe in those boxes to hang up somewhere. Where would the best place be? Catching him off guard might be fun. She pondered this for a bit, and then she heard Raymond laughing gently in the other room. That got her attention and she listened a bit more carefully. She felt a little guilty about trying to make out the conversation, but his tone of voice sounded conspiratorial. This was the second time she had heard him speaking on the phone in this way. Earlier this week she had walked into the shop at lunchtime and overheard the latter part of a conversation. He seemed to hurry off the phone once she arrived as well. He quickly offered that it was a customer, and he looked uncomfortable.

She heard him hang up, and she quickly put down her cookie and picked up her hot chocolate. She took a sip as he walked in.

“Sorry about that,” he said as he sat down next to her. “How’s the hot chocolate?”

“Mmm, it’s good,” she said and licked the chocolate off of her lips. “Who was that on the phone?” She tried to sound innocent, and wasn’t sure if she succeeded.

“Oh! No one important. Just a supplier calling about a part I ordered. The shop was closed so he called here.” He sipped his cup of hot chocolate.

It was a plausible explanation, but his tone of voice… She hated that this worried her, and the unwelcome thought that entered her mind was that perhaps he was speaking to his ex-wife? Could they somehow reconnect? It had been years since the divorce. It couldn’t be possible. Could it?

“Penny for your thoughts,” Raymond said.

“Oh, it’s nothing… just daydreaming,” she didn’t like that she was keeping this feeling from him, but she would surely feel foolish if this was all in her imagination.

“Belle, you can tell me anything you know. Whenever you like,” he said, softly, and the way he looked at her made her suspicions drift away. 

She nodded, and leaned into him. “I guess... I guess I had a bit of a feeling that you’ve been keeping something from me. I know it’s silly…”

“Hey… hey,” he said. He placed his cup on the tray and put his warm hand on her cheek. He tilted her head up to look at him and gently pulled her closer. “It isn’t silly… I am keeping something from you.”

She tried to lean back away from him, but he laughed and she looked at him quizzically. 

“I’m trying to keep your Christmas present a secret!”

“That was about my Christmas present?” 

He laughed, and nodded. “Now don’t you worry, you’ll find out what it is soon enough… that’s if I manage to procure it that is.”

She relaxed in his arms, and he pulled her closer into his embrace. She felt him kiss the top of her head. “I’m sorry I was suspicious.”

“Sweetheart, you have nothing to worry about. I’m quite the boring sort, let me assure you.”

She smiled. “I find you anything but boring. Quite the opposite, actually.” The way he was rubbing her back was taking her mind completely elsewhere. She tugged at his necktie, “Will we be decorating upstairs at all?”

He leaned down and kissed her softly. He tasted of hot chocolate. “I think there’s definitely something we can do upstairs.”

She laughed out loud. “See? I told you. Definitely not boring.”

*****

It was Christmas Eve and he wished he was anywhere but David Nolan’s house. Raymond of course wanted to accompany Belle to the Nolans Christmas Eve party. He just wished David would stay far away from Belle. They had spent nearly every afternoon together at the Animal Shelter for the entire month of December. He visited once, and they had decorated the place, and brought toys and cozy things for the dogs and cats to lay on. Belle said that the animals just needed love, and tried to get as many volunteers to do just that. She had recruited him for that purpose, and he did have a nice time petting dogs and cats for an afternoon. 

Raymond just didn’t like how friendly David had gotten with Belle. He called her fairly often with Animal Shelter updates. She was always so happy to hear from him. He tried very hard not to feel jealous. He knew he was probably making it all up in his head, but he couldn’t help it, especially with David’s history and all.

He sipped at his espresso, careful not to spill any on his three piece suit, and surveyed the Nolan’s living room. It was like half the town was jam packed into this house. Archie and Marco were predictably in a jovial conversation. LeRoy and Ruby were having some kind of drinking contest, and had attracted a bit of an audience. Belle, who was dressed in an elegant dark green velvet dress that Gold highly approved of, was talking with Mary Margaret, who was visibly pregnant and glowing. Mary Margaret was a pleasant woman, and seemed the perfect match for David. If he hadn’t been a little jealous and suspicious of David and his friendly relationship with Belle it would be hard to believe that this match between the Nolans would be anything but solid. 

Just as he had this thought David signaled something to Belle from across the room. She nodded and gave him a little thumbs up. To make matters worse, this little exchange happened just as Mary Margaret had turned to say hello to Ashley and her toddler Alexandra. Surely, he was imagining things. There was probably an innocent explanation. If he wasn’t driving he’d be finding the scotch right about now.

Belle came over. Somehow she was holding little Alexandra with Ashley following right behind her. “Raymond, we were just talking about taking bets about Mary Margaret’s baby. What do you think? Boy or Girl?”

Raymond went with his first thought. “I’m going to say a girl. Put me down for that.” Belle and Ashley laughed. 

“We were thinking the same thing,” Ashley said, and took Alexandra from Belle’s arms. The baby was starting to get fussy. “It’s getting late. Way past her bedtime.”

“You know Raymond, I think I’m about ready to go too. How about you?”

“Yes, I think this coffee is giving me the jitters. I fear I might not be able to sleep tonight.”

“Oh, that might not be such a bad thing.” She winked at him and led him to say their goodbyes to their hosts and a few of the other guests. 

*****

When they returned to Raymond’s home on the outskirts of town, they found a wrapped up Christmas gift on the stoop. Belle watched as Raymond picked up the gift. “This is odd who would…” He read the little card on top, “Happy Christmas, signed Moe French.” 

Belle was amused by his stunned expression. “Well he was very happy with the gift I gave him. I told him how you took extra care in restoring it.”

They walked inside, and Raymond unwrapped the gift. It was a large poinsettia. He inspected the leaves and pulled apart the stems. He looked at Belle and explained, “Checking for listening devices, or explosives…”

Belle frowned at him. “Give me that! Honestly…” she took the plant from him and placed it next to the Christmas tree. 

“Well you can’t blame me,” he said with a shrug.

“I think my father’s grudgingly starting to like you.” She stood back and looked at the tree with the poinsettia next to it and the few presents underneath. “We should take a picture together right here tomorrow morning,” she said. She turned and Raymond had gone to the small bar in the dining room and poured himself a scotch. 

“Belle, I need to talk to you about something.” He took a swig of the drink. This sounded ominous. He poured her a glass of scotch as well. 

She took the offered drink and had a tiny sip. He motioned for her to come sit with him in the dining room. She was getting worried now. 

“I’ve been watching you and David together. You seem to get along very well. All that time at the Animal Shelter and on the phone.”

Belle raised an eyebrow. She didn’t like the sound of this. “He’s a good guy… Raymond, where are you going with this?”

He took another sip, and cleared his throat. “He’s handsome, tall, and all of that, and you’re beautiful…”

“Are you… are you suggesting that we are somehow seeing each other?” she asked, incredulous. Where in the world was this coming from?

His eyes grew wide, but she continued, “Do you honestly believe that I would be having an affair with a married man, whose wife is having his baby, while I’m actually with you?”

Raymond started waving his hands in protest. “No… no, no, not at all!”

“Then what were you saying, Raymond? I mean, I’ve had the thought that you might still have feelings for your ex-wife, but it was silly and fleeting, and I told you when I was feeling insecure…”

“Oh, I assure you, I don’t have feelings for Milah.”

“Fine. What were you getting at about me and David then?” It was her turn to take a swig of the scotch.

Raymond sighed. “Oh Belle, you’re so lovely. You deserve someone more like David. I envy him. We both come from a similar background. We both grew up on a farm, and he became the taller, stronger, handsome, manly type. He’s like a real life Prince Charming. Meanwhile, I got thrown off a horse and injured myself for life. I’m no Prince Charming. I’m more like the town monster, and for some inexplicable reason you are with me. I just think sometimes that I’m just not good enough…”

“Raymond Gold, I have half a mind to grab your gift when it gets here and just go home. What do I need to say or do to convince you that I love you, you silly man. Someone like David is not for me… not for more than friendship. He’s… too bland. I need layers, my love, and you have them.”

He stared at her dumbfounded. She hadn’t said that she loved him before, but it was true, and perhaps this was exactly the time he needed to hear it. However, this didn’t stop her for wanting to make him squirm a bit more for suggesting that she and David were a potential item. “And what about you and those phone calls. Were they really about my present? Is it there under the tree?” She pointed intensely at the tree in the living room.

Raymond breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, it is. Well there are a few over there, but the one wrapped in gold is the important one.” He got up and took her hand and brought her over to the tree. “Please sit.” She sat down on the couch and waited with a stern expression. She wasn’t terribly angry with him, but she wanted him to stew just a little bit. She understood that he felt a little insecure, but she hoped that she reassured him with her earlier statement.

He handed her the thin box wrapped in gold. “I’m sorry, Belle. Truly. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was being a jealous, insecure idiot.” He sat down next to her, and nudged her with his shoulder. “Forgive me?”

She fought the smile that ended up on her face. “I forgive you.” He kissed her on the cheek and nuzzled her neck. 

“I love you too, you know,” he said, quietly in her ear. She felt warm at hearing those words for the first time. He looked into her eyes. “You can open your gift now.”

She unwrapped it, and opened the box to reveal a small picture frame. The photo inside it was of a smiling boy with tousled brown hair in his early teens. It was Raymond’s son Neal. He held up a large book with the title Her Handsome Hero.

“It’s a picture of Neal, and… my favorite book. Oh he looks so happy. I love it, but I’m not sure that I understand completely.”

Raymond took her hand. “Neal has been the one I’ve been talking to on the phone. He’s been helping me get your present. It’s that rare illustrated copy of Her Handsome Hero that you told me about. He found it in New York. We bought it for you, and he’s going to be bringing it to you himself. He’s arriving on New Year’s Eve. His mother finally let him travel on his own. He’s very excited to meet you.”

Belle felt the tears well up in her eyes. “Oh Raymond, but this is wonderful. So wonderful. I can’t wait. Oh may we call him first thing tomorrow morning to thank him and tell him how much I’m looking forward to meeting him?” 

Raymond nodded, and hugged her tightly. “I have a feeling we both feel a little bit silly about earlier.” Belle laughed and wiped away her tears. She stood up to prop up the picture frame near the tree. They both sat down and looked at it hand in hand.

At that moment the doorbell rang. “What in the world?” Raymond stood up but Belle pulled him back down.

“I’ll get it. It’s your Christmas gift.”

“They make deliveries at this time of night?”

“Well it’s a special delivery.” She opened the door and pulled in the red wagon she had used earlier in the month. Inside was a large box with green holiday wrapping and an open top. She pulled the cart in front of him. “I think we’re going to be glad that Neal is coming for more than one reason. We might need a little bit of help.”

Raymond stared up at her as she pulled out a furry little black and white puppy. Indeed it was one of the puppies he was playing with at the shelter. She put the puppy in his lap. “Belle… I…”

“I know they say that you shouldn’t give puppies as gifts, but you talk about the sheepdogs you had as a kid with such love. And you seemed to have such a connection with this puppy. David and I kept talking about it, and that’s why he kept calling, by the way. Aaand David was the one that just dropped him off.”

She saw Raymond deflate a bit in realization, but the puppy made him smile immediately after.

“I just had to bring him for you. I filled out all the adoption paperwork. I’ll keep him if you don’t want him, but I can come over as much as you want to help out. Even stay over as much as you want.” She hoped it wasn’t an unwelcome hint. Perhaps it was a bit fast to suggest a permanent living arrangement, but these weekends they had spent together were wonderful, even with tonight’s miscommunication and misunderstanding.

Raymond had the biggest smile she had seen on his face. He was petting the puppy and it was squirming and kissing his chin. “Oh I think he can stay,” he said. He looked up at her. “And you can stay as long as you want.”

“Is forever, OK?” She laughed and flopped onto the couch next to him. They didn’t get much sleep that night, thanks to the puppy, and that was just fine. They had many more holidays to spend together in the future.

The End.

[iswearoncolinodonoghue]

Painted Blue (1/?)

Killian Jones' life changed when he began to foster the most perfect baby boy. It was thrown upside down when he met the boy's mother, who makes it increasingly hard for him to just be her friend. strangers to friends to more AU

Here is the first chapter to a story that I've been working on for a while. I'm excited to get it going and to hear your feedback. I did some research on fostering, but not too much so it won't all be perfect. also, this is mostly exposition, and the real story starts with him and Emma.

Enjoy

AO3

Killian Jones didn’t expect for his utterly ordinary routine to be uprooted by one phone call. And it was ordinary. His days were the same. He woke up, dressed, and took himself downstairs to the small coffee shop below his apartment building. He would order his usual grande Americano and sit in one of high-top tables, either reading the morning paper, or jotting down notes in his idea journal.

He was writer. Ever since he was a child, he loved to read, and after he read everything he could at his young age, he began to write his own small stories. At the beginning, most were about the stuffed animals that lay on his bed, but as he got older, they were about anything and everything that peaked his interest, Now, at the age of 28, he’s published two novels, and currently he’s in the middle of the third, a historical fiction in the time of pirates of the 1700s.

After his time at the shop, he’d go back to his apartment, and begin writing. He had a lot of time in the day to work on his research. Occasionally, he’d spare a day of work to run errands, or to make plans with the very few friends he had. His days sometimes consisted of laundry or trying a new recipe at home. But most of the day was spent writing, and when he didn’t write, he tended to read.

He also spent two and a half hours every Tuesday night teaching a creative writing class at Boston University. He only taught one class, an introduction seminar for freshman students, most of whom were writing majors, though some wrote as a hobby, and took the class for fun. He liked teaching, but was wry to commit to being a full time instructor. He didn’t want the job to take away from his writing, and the one class a week, as well as the money from his book sales, earned him enough money to get by. After all, it was just himself in his small two bedroom apartment.

He wasn’t at all expecting to receive a call on a Wednesday in late February about a little boy due to be born in the middle of March. The mother was still set to complete her prison sentence that lasted until June. Killian hadn’t fostered in a while, but he forgot his information was still on file. The agency and prison that the mother was in, were both near his residency in Boston, so Killian was the first to be called.

He hadn’t fostered a child since Milah died. He and his wife had met at university in England, and moved to the states after graduation. They married quickly, at the age of 22, ready to start a family right away. A year of trying led to more years of disappointment. When they learned that there were complications with Milah’s ability to get pregnant, they turned to fostering. Milah was sad, at first, but said that any child that came into their home would be loved as their own, and it would be just as great an experience as having their own child.

Killian loved her spirit, and the way she looked at the world. They starting fostering when they turned the appropriate age, taking in mostly teenagers who only had a few years left in the system. They fostered three children in the two years they fostered. Not long after the last child turned 18 and left the system, Milah passed. She had been driving home from a weekend away for work, she was a photographer, when a large snowstorm caused icy roads. She lost control of the car, and skidded off the side of the road into a nearby tree, and died directly on impact.

Killian had not fostered any other child since his wife passed. In fact, he had almost forgotten he ever did. It took him a very long time to move past Milah’s death. He was content with his life, spending his days alone, with his memory of her. He didn’t believe he’d ever find someone he’d care for as much as Milah, let alone love.

But, when he got the call about fostering the soon to be newborn, a year and a half after his wife’s death, he couldn’t bring himself to say no. He thought to what Milah would say, and he knew she would take in the baby without a second thought. After all, it was only for a few months. He spent the month before the boy was born preparing. He purchased a small crib and bedding, and many clothes, diapers and other necessities for the child.

He was in line at the coffee shop a week into March when he received the call that the baby was born. A beautiful baby boy was born early in the morning, and they hoped Killian would be ready to pick him up the next day. Killian continued to get his coffee, but rather than sitting and reading while he drank, he ran right back upstairs and began preparing for the boy.

He had everything he needed. The second room was transformed into a small, temporary nursery, with plenty of clothes, diapers, blankets, and stuffed animals of his own for the baby. He prepared the carseat in his car for the next day, and made sure he had enough formula for the baby as well. He was nervous, because he never fostered a newborn before. He hoped he could give this baby a good temporary home.

When he arrived at the hospital the next day, he met with the social worker for the baby’s case, who ran through with him everything he needed to know. His name was Henry, Henry Swan, born to Emma Swan. Emma had three months left in her sentence, and so once she was out, had a job and a residency, she would have the opportunity to have the baby back. The reason Henry was given to Killian to foster, and not given up for adoption, was because Emma had every intention of being his mother when she was out.

Once Killian understood, the social worker took him to Henry. He was nervous as he entered the nursery. The boy was small, just about 7 pounds, dressed in a soft blue onesie and blue knit hat. The nurse placed Henry in his arms, and Killian smiled at the way Henry squirmed comfortably in his arms. He placed a finger towards Henry’s chin, and his little hand reached up to grasp onto it.

“Hello, lad,” Killian said to the little boy. “We’re going to have some fun the next few months.” He received another squirm and gurgle in response.

~~~

Falling in love with Henry was easy for Killian. The boy was slowly becoming comfortable in his home. His days stayed close to the same routine with Henry in tow. Instead of going to the cafe for coffee, he instead brewed his own in the morning, and rather than read the morning paper, he spent the time reading to Henry. He fed the boy regularly, and though he knew Henry wouldn’t be sleeping through the night, he didn’t mind being up with him. His schedule allowed for him to sleep when Henry was, though most of the time he chose to write while Henry was sleeping.

Though Henry wasn’t always a distraction from Killian’s writing. A lot of the time, Killian made a space on his desk for Henry’s car seat, and he would place the baby there next to him as he wrote. He would often rock the carseat, or talk to Henry about his story and run ideas by him. Of course, Henry could not understand what he was saying, but after a month when Henry gave Killian a smile, he knew he was on the right path.

A few times Killian would take Henry out if it was nice outside, which it usually was in March and April. He would take him to the park in the coach he bought, or the two of them would sit together in the cafe downstairs, in a booth where Killian could place the car seat next to him as he ate.

It wasn’t always perfect. It took Killian a few tries to perfect a diaper change, and as to be expected of a newborn, there were many screaming nights. Killian hated hearing Henry cry, not because of the sound, but because of whatever pain Henry was going through. Was he hungry? Did he need to be changed? Was he in pain? Sometimes Killian’s insecurities arose, and he wondered if he was being a terrible foster father.

He was relieved of those feelings the first time Henry laughed. He had been reading a children’s story to the baby, when he chose to speak in the character’s funny voice, making Henry laugh. Killian smiled wide, picking the babe up into his arms and holding him tight. He knew the day he’d have to give Henry back would be the worst.

That day came quicker than he imagined. Before he knew it, it was June. He was told Emma had been set to be released from prison on June 5th, and today was June 13th. He knew he only had a few more days before he would get a call about Emma being ready to take back Henry. His suspicions were proven when a week and a half later he received a call. Emma found a job, thanks to her parole officer, and was living in a small apartment in the downstairs of the inn that her new boss owned. She was stable, and ready to take Henry home.

When he left to take Henry to the fostering agency, he teared up on the way to the car. Henry was in the backseat, and Killian could see from his rearview mirror just the way Henry was kicking his small legs. He couldn’t do too much moving yet, but he could do that. He would miss the lad. His life had been all too lonely the last year without Milah, and having Henry with him had been a nice change for him, a change he wasn’t aware he needed.

He arrived at the agency, and soon enough he was hugging Henry for the last time, before he would be taken to the room his mother was waiting for him. “So long, lad.” he said, before he watched the social worker take him away. When he returned to his car, he let the full tears flow, heartbroken that he had let himself fall in love with the boy, and that he would probably not see him again.

Two Months Later

Three loud knocks rapped against Killian’s door, pulling him away from his work. He had spent the entire morning editing his new novel. After Henry had gone back to his mother, Killian threw himself into his book. He was almost finished. He planned to spent the next few weeks editing and revising before sending it to his publisher. He was happy with how his work was so far. He even renamed one of the characters in his novel, to Henry.

As he stood to answer the door, his guest knocked again. “Coming!” he yelled. When he reached the door, he unlocked it and pulled the door open, revealing a young, beautiful blonde women, who was holding a car seat.

“Hi,” was all she said when he answered. She smiled at him, but also held a small look of shock on her face. One that told him that she wasn’t expecting him on this side of the door. Killian did notice she was beautiful. Long blonde locks fell down her back, and her eyes were an emerald green. “Are you Killian?”

“Aye, lass.” Killian said. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” she said. “I mean...I’m Emma. Henry’s mother.”

[lolablackwrites]

Writer’s Retreat, Part 16 - James x MC

Summary: James and MC (Charlotte) finally have a long overdue talk.

Notes: Two posts in two days? Who am I?! Thank you to everyone who has been so encouraging and supportive of this series so far, you are all wonderful and I appreciate you so much ❤️ I know I’m not very consistent in terms of posting installments so I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all the positive feedback and support as you all bear with me.

If you’re new to this series, you can check out the previous installments here: Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15.

Tagging: @mfackenthal, @i-dream-so-i-write, @enmchoices, @bruhvs, @maxattack-powell, @kennaxval, @hhiggs, @tmarie82, @regrettingnathan, @littlegreenmoo, @sunglassy, @mimiashton, @syltti78, @moodygrip, @hamulau, @zigthetwig, @zilch3, @greyeyedsmile14, @shirinalshabra, @josieschoices, @mr-sinclaire

If you’d like to be tagged in future installments, let me know. I’ve gotten a few requests lately and I’ve made a tag master list so I can try to make sure I don’t miss anyone who wants to be tagged.

Fanfic Master List

James and Charlotte sat down in the living room, with Charlotte making a conscious choice to not sit beside him on the couch. Instead, she sat in the armchair, tucking her feet beneath her. The more distance between them, the better. They sat in silence, James staring at the quiet fireplace, unconsciously twisting the wedding band around his finger.

“So,” Charlotte finally said. “You wanted to talk.”

“Yeah,” James said, turning his gaze towards her. She noticed he was still turning his ring, round and round it went around his finger. Charlotte had always loved James’s hands, loved the way they felt when he cupped her face. They were always so soft, yet strong. “I just . . . I don’t know, I guess I needed to see you.”

“James . . . where does Vanessa think you are?” Charlotte asked. He flinched slightly when she mentioned his wife.

“Boston. I told her I had to fly back for some emergency with the Ashton Foundation, but then I just . . . I don’t know, I rented a car and just started driving. I don’t think I even realized where I was going until I crossed the state line into Maine.”

“Wait . . . are you still on your honeymoon?” Charlotte asked, realization and revulsion rolling through her.

“Technically I’m here,” James said weakly, knowing how terrible he sounded.

“You have to go,” Charlotte said as she stood up. “I realize that this is your house and it’s really weird to kick you out of it, but you have to go. I have to go.”

“Charlotte--”

“No, James!” Charlotte exclaimed. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re supposed to be on your honeymoon and then you just show up here!”

“Charlie, wait--”

“Don’t call me that.”

James took a breath. “Charlotte. I flew on a red eye from Rome and drove all night to see you.”

“Then get right back on another flight and go back.”

“I needed to see you.”

“YOU MARRIED SOMEONE ELSE!”

“I KNOW!” James yelled back. “I--” He lowered his voice. “I’m not happy.”

“Too fucking bad, James,” Charlotte snapped. “You made your choice. You picked Vanessa. I thought I could keep doing this, but I can’t. I don’t like . . .” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I don’t like who I am when I’m with you anymore.”

James looked back down at his hands, his forearms resting on his knees. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

“Oh, come on,” Charlotte said, rolling her eyes as she sat back down in the armchair.

“I’m serious! I think back to who I was in college, when I worked with Vasquez, when I wrote that play . . . I don’t know, I don’t recognize myself anymore.”

“People change,” she said tersely.

“Do they?” James snapped. “You’re the one who had some guy over here last night. I’m guessing he doesn’t know about our current relationship.”

“First of all, he only showed up fifteen minutes before you did. Second of all, I don’t think you get to dictate how I spend my time or who I spend it with because you’re married.”

“Stop saying that!”

“It’s still true whether I say it or not!”

“I know!” James shouted. This time he was the one who leaped to his feet and began pacing in front of the fireplace.

“What did you hope was going to happen here?” Charlotte demanded. “Did you think I’d just be waiting here with my legs open so you could fuck me before running back to your wife?”

“No, it’s not like that,” James said as he dropped to his knees in front of the armchair. “Charlotte, I have loved you since I was twenty years old.” He took her hands in his, and although she didn’t return the pressure, she didn’t pull her hands away earlier. “When I ran into you again . . . I couldn’t believe it was really you. I didn’t mean for everything to happen that night, but . . . god, Charlotte, you make me feel like a whole person, like I know who I am.”

Charlotte was quiet for a minute, considering his words. She felt her throat tighten and she didn’t bother trying to wipe away the tear that spilled down her cheek. James let go of one of her hands, gently brushing the tear from her skin. Charlotte closed her eyes as he tucked her hair behind her ear, his hand cupping the back of her neck.

“Do you want to know how I feel?” she asked, keeping her eyes closed. Charlotte felt her chin quiver but she fought to keep her voice even.

“Of course.”

Charlotte opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. “I feel terrible all the time. I’m so mad at you all the time, but I love you. God, I love you so much, but loving you hurts too much. I don’t even feel like myself anymore; I feel like a shadow of myself. I feel pathetic, all those nights I’ve sat there staring at my phone, willing you to call or text or get away to come see me. I don’t like who I am when I’m with you,” she repeated. “Not anymore.” She took a shaky breath and continued. “I deserve more than to just be someone’s free time or second choice.”

James hung his head. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. This isn’t fair to you.”

“Or Vanessa.”

“Or . . . Vanessa,” James agreed. He looked back up at her. “What if we really made a go of it, you and me?”

“What are you talking about?” Charlotte asked.

“I mean it. I’ll end it with Vanessa and be with you. Only you. No, don’t shake your head, this can work. I know it can.”

“James, no. Your family would disown you.”

“Fuck my family!” he exclaimed. “We’ll really do this, you and me. I’ll start writing again and we can live here at the cabin. Or anywhere else you want.”

“James . . . you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to say that very thing, but . . . no.”

“Why not?” James asked, cupping her face in his hands. “I love you, you love me. We can work the rest out later.”

“Because I don’t think I can ever get over the fact that you married someone else. You chose someone else. It’s too late to choose me.” As she said those words, Charlotte felt her heart twist painfully, but she knew it was true. It was too late for her and James.

James nodded slowly in acceptance. Tears fell down his skin, skin that she had kissed countless times, for the last time.

“You’re right. You deserve more,” James said. “I’m sorry.” He stood up slowly, wiping at his eyes. Charlotte stood up and pulled him to her in a hug. James wrapped his arms around her tightly and she breathed deeply, pulling in his familiar scent. He kissed the top of her head and then they let go.

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want,” James said, gesturing around himself at the house. “Think of it as the divorce settlement we’ll never have.”

Charlotte laughed as she rubbed away her own tears. “Thanks, but I think it’s time for me to stand on my own feet for once.”

James nodded. “Well, no rush. Take all the time you need.”

“Thanks.”

Charlotte walked him to the front door. James opened it and stepped out onto the porch. At the top of the stairs, he paused and looked back over his shoulder.

“Bye, Charlie.”

“Bye, James.”

She closed the door gently, the latch clicking into place like the tiny tick of a clock, and she headed to the bedroom to pack.

Part 17

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[pongpalace]

it’s a word, not a sentence (chapter 1/2)

jack zimmermann x eric “bitty” bittle, alternative meeting, photographer jack, single parent bitty, terminally ill child character

inspired by that one tumblr comic  

Jack’s had a long day.

Most of his morning was spent arguing with a client who didn’t like the way her daughter’s birth pictures turned out because Jack didn’t photoshop out the redness in the newborn’s cheeks to make her look as doll-like as possible. Then he had what had to be the longest photoshoot he’s ever had because the dad thought that one photography class at Micheal’s made him an expert on how to light Jack’s set and would make changes as he saw fit. Bouncing between trying to keep the eight-year-old’s attention so he wouldn’t strip naked—again—and fixing what the dad did without outright calling the man an idiot was exhausting and because of it, Jack worked through his lunch to edit the pictures he needed for the magazine shoot he’d done weeks before. He wasn’t happy with the results so in between his afternoon sessions, he’d open up his laptop and poke at it right up until he needed to send them off to the editor.

Squinting at his computer screen, adjusting colour balances and saturations made Jack more tired than being behind the camera so he’s feeling the long day now that he’s sat down at the front desk, without anyone else to worry about in the studio. He should be answering emails and double checking he has all the backgrounds and costumes he’ll need for his big pregnancy shoot tomorrow morning but Jack can’t bring himself to do more than stare at the clock as it counts down the fifteen minutes until he locks the door and gets to go home.

It’s a testament to how tired Jack is because he watches the clock for five whole minutes before he remembers that he’s his own boss and he technically can close his own photography studio any time he wants and no one will yell at him.

He’s just pushed himself out of his chair when the bell above the door rings, signalling someone coming in. Jack bites back a curse, but he can feel the glare on his face when he looks at the blond man and his son who just came in, bundled in their winter jackets and stomping off snow that must’ve come down sometime in the last hour.

The man approaches the front desk. “Hello, um, I know it’s almost closing time, but I have a really big favour to ask,” he says.

Jack stares for a beat, vaguely wondering what someone with a southern accent is doing this far north, in the middle of a Boston winter no less. The man colours under Jack’s stare, wrinkling his nose and in any other setting, Jack might’ve found him more than a little attractive considering his messy blond hair, freckles, and big, dark brown eyes check off everything on Jack’s list. As it is, it’s been a long day and Jack wants to go home.

“Any inquiries about bookings or appointments are usually better done over the phone, during the day,” Jack says, giving the standard response to walk-in clients and letting his voice fall flat. He doesn’t mention that the current waiting list for a shoot is at least six months.

The man winces. “Yeah, I um, I know that. I saw your website.” He pauses and looks around the studio, taking in the wall that showcases the portraits Jack’s most proud of, the series of geese postcards that Jack worked on with Lardo, and the vintage camera equipment that he has on display because it makes him happy to look at.

The man bites at his lip while he looks at the wall, and Jack is about to remind him of the studio’s hours, but then the kid peaks out from behind their dad’s legs and Jack’s heart goes into his throat.

He’s going to be staying a little bit longer.

The kid is small. His puffy jacket hangs off a thin frame, hands lost in the too-long sleeves, though he keeps pushing one up so he can hold onto his dad’s hand. He wears a bright red toque, pulled all the way down his forehead. No hair peaks out from underneath, but Jack doesn’t think it’s because they’ve tucked it up into the knit fabric. The boy and man have the same big brown eyes, matching all the way down the deep bruises underneath, though the boy’s might be a shade darker. There’s a tube taped to the boy’s cheek, feeding into his nose, the other end tucked around up into his hat before it disappears into his collar. It’s clear that the boy is very sick.

The man clears his throat, and Jack guiltily looks up from where he knows he’s been caught staring.

“Gavin saw your postcards in the hospital gift shop,” the man says. “He loves geese.” Gavin looks up and smiles big at his name, nodding as much as he can without dislodging the tube. He unzips his jacket and Jack’s heart clenches to see that he was wearing a big hoodie underneath the jacket and still looks so tiny. Gavin shoves his hands into the hoodie pocket and pulls out a folded piece of cardstock. He unfolds it carefully before standing on his tiptoes to reach the counter and push it towards Jack.

“The babies are the best,” Gavin says. His voice is rougher than any child’s voice should be, sounding like it hurts him to talk, but he’s smiling the whole time Jack looks at one of his postcards. It was one of the last shots he got that day, after having crouched in goose shit for hours to get pictures of the adults interacting, he managed get a shot of a gosling using the toe of his dirty yellow runner as a pillow.

“Yeah,” Jack says softly, looking at where he has it posted on the wall across from him. Gavin follows his gaze, grin widening when he sees it, tugging at his dad’s jacket to point it out.  

“The woman who works there says you had other things up in the hospital so on one of our good days, we went on a search and found some of your other pictures.” The man swings back around once he looks where Gavin wants.

“I like the unicorn,” Gavin says, again standing on his toes to see over the desk. He stretches to take his postcard back, almost losing his balance, but the man steadies him with a hand on his back easily.

Jack can’t think of a picture session he’s done with a unicorn, or even with the unicorn background he has, but most of what he’s given to hospitals are the landscape photography that he was really focused on while working towards opening his own studio.

“There’s a picture of a horse near the cancer ward and the shadow makes it look like a unicorn,” the man explains, smiling down at Gavin. He puts a hand on Gavin’s head and gently tugs at the toque, huffing a laugh when Gavin bats him away. He steps a little closer to Jack’s, voice lowering as he continues. “Look, I did go on your website and check for appointments and I know that y’all are booked solid for the next six months or so but-” His voice breaks. Jack’s stomach drops; six months might be too long for Gavin to wait for an appointment.

Jack looks around his desk, searching for the box of tissues he knows he keeps now that everyone has the sniffles in the cold weather. He finds them and passes the box over to the man, who takes a couple to press roughly to his eyes. Gavin reaches up and pulls on the man’s elbow until he drops his hand so Gavin can reach it. Gavin takes it and the man lets out a water breath.

Jack clears his throat, once, twice, to get past the lump he’s suddenly developed. He probably needs a tissue of his own but he blinks rapidly instead.

“Well, luckily, there’s a special promotion going on for people with these postcards,” Jack says, talking through the hoarseness in his voice that always comes when he’s feeling emotional. He leans forward over the desk to pass the postcard back to Gavin. Gavin takes it, looking up at his dad with big eyes. “I’ve been waiting all day to take pictures of someone who has one.”

“You have?” Gavin asks. He bites at very chapped lips, brow furrowed like he’s trying to figure Jack out. The directness of his stare is startling, his eyes the brightest point amongst the purples and blues of deep bruises and sharp cheekbones that don’t belong on a child’s face.

“I have.” Jack nods. “Now why don’t you take your dad back there,” Jack points over his shoulder, towards the studio he uses for kids’ portraits. “and I’ll meet you there to pick out what you want to wear in a second.”

There’s an entire wardrobe of different sized costumes, ranging from princesses to hockey players to doctors and everything in between that goes along with his extensive collection of backgrounds. It’s not as organized as it usually is when he has a session with a kid, but Jack’s more than happy to let Gavin go and chose what he wants. He might not get many more chances.

Jack locks the door while Gavin takes the man’s arm and leads him to the doorway. He’s chatting a mile a minute to his dad, but the dull roaring in Jack’s ears means he doesn’t catch any of it as he flips the lock so they’re not interrupted. He rests his forehead on the cool glass of the door, breathing in and out and in and out, while he takes a minute to compose himself. He’s not sure his bursting into tears would be productive for anyone tonight.

“Thanks for doing this.”

Jack jumps, knocking his head against the glass at the voice. He turns, feeling guilty for some reason, to see just the man leaning out of the studio doorway, eyes big with a concern Jack doesn’t feel like he deserves. He steps into the hallway.

“I’ll be right there, sorry,” Jack says, rubbing his forehead. The skin is warm to the touch, even after being pressed against the cool glass and Jack hopes he didn’t lose track of time.

“You’re apologizing for me scaring you on top of making you stay late?” The man raises a blond eyebrow.

“Er, yeah?” Jack says. He drops his hand from his forehead, and hopes he doesn’t look as stupid as he feels. The man came in here with his obviously very sick child and Jack is the one who can’t keep it together.

The man shakes his head, looking more bemused than annoyed. “Well, thank you. Seriously. This is gonna be the highlight of Gavin’s year.” He’s still smiling when he finishes, but it looks a little pinched around the edges.

“Uh,” Jack clears his throat. “Of course.” He stares at the man and the man stares back.

“I’m Eric, by the way,” the man says, suddenly. “If you wanna know who’s extended your work day.” Eric chuckles slightly, a little self-deprecating.

“Jack,” Jack replies, taking the hand Eric offers. His palm is dry but warm and a little rough. He squeezes Jack’s hands for a beat before letting go.

“Yeah,” Eric says and Jack flushes, realizing Eric must’ve known his name right from the start if he’d been able to google his website.

“Right.” Jack nods. “Er, should we?” He gestures back over Eric’s shoulder, following when Eric steps back inside the studio.

In the studio, Gavin’s found the building blocks on the low table in the corner. He’s still wearing his jacket, but he’s pushed the sleeves up to his elbows. Despite all the time Jack spends around children, he’s not great with telling kids’ ages, though it’s pretty obvious even to him that Gavin’s wrists and arms are too small for his age. He struggles for a moment to move most of a completed rocket ship that Jack’s earlier appointment left behind.

“Now I know Mr. Jack didn’t say come back here to play with the blocks.”

Eric’s voice makes Gavin jump and look guilty at his dad.

“Sorry,” he says, eyes wide. He puts the rocket down, though not before tweaking the nose slightly so it sits straighter. Jack bites back a smile.

“C’mere,” he says, gesturing over at one of the overflowing wardrobes along the back wall. The doors aren’t completely closed, different colours of tulle make it over stuffed and the bane of Jack’s existence to keep clean, and Gavin lights up when he catches sight of it fully open. “Let’s pick some things out to start with.”

With practiced hands, Eric helps Gavin tries on every single one of Jack’s costumes, guiding limbs through arm and leg holes, careful not only of the tube on the side of Gavin’s face, but also of the toque on Gavin’s head. Gavin grins at his reflection each time, twirling and running his hands over any silky fabric, before standing in front of Jack’s camera and posing like a superhero or a ballerina or whatever strikes his fancy. Jack makes sure to capture each pose. It’s the easiest photoshoot of a kid that Jack has ever done; Gavin must be the politest, most well behaved kid he’s ever met. When he says as much to Eric between costume changes, Eric snorts.

“He’s just trying to impress you so you’ll let him take some photos,” Eric says lowly. Jack twists from where he was watching Gavin pick out a princess dress by touching all the tulle to look at Eric.

“Geese are his favourite animal,” Eric repeats, shrugging. “And because photography let you get close to them, he thinks he should be a photographer to get close to them. I can’t wait till he learns about zoo-keeping.” Eric grins wryly.

It’s a challenge for Jack to tear his gaze away from Eric’s smile, somehow still the brightest thing in the room despite everything Jack knows it’s been through, but he turns away to adjust the tripod.

“What’re you doing Mr. Jack?” Gavin’s come over dressed in kid’s sized Providence Falcons jersey that still falls to his knees. He’s strapped elbow pads on over top, and is dragging the smallest hockey shorts behind him. They look giant beside Gavin.

“Making this the right size,” Jack answers, pointing at the tripod. Gavin’s brow furrows and he looks between Jack and his dad. Jack’s not sure what Eric’s doing behind him, but Gavin still looks suspicious as he takes another step towards Jack.

“Why?”

Jack crouches down to check that the tripod is level and won’t fall on Gavin.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He drops his voice into a whisper. Gavin’s still looks confused but he comes to stand right beside Jack so he can hear, still dragging the hockey pants.

“Your dad just told me that he wants his picture taken,” Jack says, whispering loud enough for Eric to hear as well. “But I’m afraid I won’t be able to do a good enough job… Do you wanna try?”

Gavin’s eyes are as big and as wide as Jack’s seen them all evening, and for a moment he just looks like an excited kid, bouncing on his toes, tubes and tiredness completely forgotten.

“Can I?”

Jack nods and turns to make sure the the tripod is properly locked in place. Satisfied nothing is going to fall, Jack beckons Gavin over and when he’s in place behind the camera, Jack points out where to look and what buttons to click.

Gavin listens and nods seriously at Jack’s easy explanation, beaming at the viewfinder screen after he takes a couple of practice shots of the empty background, a dark sparkly blue that Gavin had picked out to go with his firefighter costume.

“Look dad!” Gavin says, pulling back from the camera and almost knocking Jack in the nose in his excitement. Jack sits back on his heels to dodge anymore stray limbs, knee walking even further back when Eric comes to crouch beside Gavin too. Gavin explains everything that Jack just told him, and even though Jack is sure that Eric was listening the first time around, he nods and makes understanding sounds every time Gavin pauses for breath.

“We’ll frame some of these for Great Moomaw, what d’you say Gav?” Eric asks. Gavin blinks and thinks about the question.

“Can we print some for my room too?” he asks. “I want to see you for always.”

Jack’s lost count of the amount of times his heart has clenched painfully this evening, hating the fact that now he’s picturing Gavin’s small body in a hospital bed, but Eric hardly blinks before he answers.

“‘Course sweetpea.”

Gavin nods, satisfied.

“Let’s take some with someone in them too though, eh Gavin?”  Jack says, as he finally stands up from his crouching position, brushing dust off his knees.

“Do you want to pick out a costume for me?” Eric asks. He gently pushes Gavin back up onto his feet from where he’d been leaning back against Eric and stands, making small steps towards the row of costumes. There’s probably not much there that’ll fit him, but there’s something to be said for dads who’ll stretch a child’s costume across their shoulders to see their kid happy.

“No, I wanna remember you like this,” Gavin says, matter-of-fact like. Eric freezes, holding a pair of rainbow wings. Jack bites his tongue to keep from audibly reacting, and finally Eric’s smile breaks.

“Well, alright then,” he says softly, turning his face away from Gavin and into the closet. “Lemme just hang these back up.” He clears his throat, once, twice, and Jack has no camera to fiddle with when Gavin’s still happily taking pictures of the background, and a clear view of the first tear that falls onto Eric’s cheek. He feels absolutely helpless as Eric closes his eyes and rubs a hand roughly across his face.

Even with his eyes closed, Eric looks tired, like he’s been carrying the weight of the world for far too long on his shoulders. And he probably has, Jack realizes. He doesn’t have kids sure, but he’s still haunted by the broken expressions on his parents’ faces when he woke up in the hospital, like their whole world was on the verge of collapsing before he opened his eyes. And just from watching Eric and Gavin interact, it’s not much of a stretch to assume that Gavin is Eric’s whole world.

Jack’s heart breaks for them both.

“Daddy?”

Eric’s eyes snap open and if he catches Jack staring at him, he doesn’t say anything, twisting towards Gavin, who’s looking over a little impatiently.

“I’m coming Gav, sorry!” Eric hangs up the wings and sets himself up in front of the camera. “How d’you want me?” He poses dramatically, jutting a hip out and pouting his lips. Gavin giggles.

“No, dad,” he says. “Just smile!”

Eric straightens out of the pose. “Alright sugar,” he says, and he smiles wide, any and all traces of his earlier tiredness gone. Gavin nods and presses the shutter down. He doesn’t pause to look at the viewfinder before he takes another one and then another one. Eric’s smile doesn’t waver, in fact growing softer and more natural the longer he watches his son. Jack finds himself mirroring the expression.

Jack has no idea how many pictures Gavin takes, but when Gavin starts to flag a little—the pauses to yawn between squeezing one eye shut and pressing the other to the view finder dragging on a little longer each time—Jack pushes up his sleeve to check his watch. His eyebrows go up when he sees it’s already almost 7:30, two and a half hours after Eric and Gavin first came into his studio. Eric must be paying more attention to Jack than he thought, because he’s got his phone out and looks just as surprised as Jack feels at the time.

“You just about done Gav?” Eric asks, sticking his phone back in his pocket. He takes a step towards Gavin.

“No,” Gavin says around another yawn. He snaps a picture of Eric mid-snort but lets himself be corralled over to the costumes.

“We’ve taken up enough of Mr. Jack’s time, hey sweetpea?” Eric says. Jack wants to say that he doesn’t mind, that he’d be happy having them around for as long as they’re willing to stay, but now that Eric’s said something about the time, Jack can see how hard Gavin was fighting his sleepiness, rubbing his eyes now. He yawns so widely that Jack sees his tonsils. Eric guides Gavin’s arms out of the Falconers jersey he’s been wearing, movements still practiced and careful not to dislodge the tube under Gavin’s nose as he pulls it over his head. Gavin droops forward, resting his head on Eric’s shoulder once he’s free.

“Long day?” Eric asks, expertly balancing keeping Gavin upright and stretching to get Gavin’s sweater and jacket. He mouths “thank you,” when Jack hands them over. Jack feels warm.

“You were there, daddy,” Gavin replies, managing to sound admonishing despite speaking mostly into Eric’s shirt.

“Oh that’s right.” Eric gets both their jackets on and stands, scooping Gavin up with one arm and holding the Falconers jersey in the other. He looks between the jersey and the hanger still on the ground, brow creased, and makes to bend over again.

“I’ve got it,” Jack says quickly before Eric can move. Gavin’s little fingers grip onto the back of Eric’s collar and he’s pressed his face to Eric’s throat as best he can, blinking slowly. Jack knows what an exhausted child looks like, and that’s without factoring in how sick Gavin might be so Jack takes the jersey and throws it over his shoulder, kicking the hanger out of Eric’s path.

“Are you sure?” Eric looks around reproachfully at the tutus that are still sticking out of the closet, the props that make the prop box hard to close, and the backgrounds still leaning against the wall, ready for whatever Gavin’s next chose was going to be. Eric winces when he sees the elbow pads around the tripod that Gavin stripped off and dropped on the floor at one point.

Jack nods and tries not to blush under Eric’s scrutiny. Gavin yawns loudly in his ear.

“Alright,” Eric sighs, running his free hand over Gavin’s back. It makes a swishing sound against the puffy fabric.“Gav, what do you say to Mr. Jack?”

Gavin picks up his head. “Thank you for taking my picture, Mr. Jack,” he says, managing to hold off yawning until the end. He blinks tiredly at Jack.

“And?” Eric prompts after a beat.

Gavin turns suddenly to look at his dad, almost hitting Eric in the face in the process. He squints at Eric until Eric whispers, “taking pictures,” in his ear.

“Oh! Thank you for letting me take pictures too. It was—” he yawns. “—was really cool.”

Jack smiles. “Anytime, Gavin,” he says, holding out a fist. Gavin’s whole face brightens as Eric’s falls, but Jack doesn’t think Gavin sees the expression when he touches his little fist to Jack’s.

Jack follows Eric out of the studio, closing the door behind him and deciding to deal with the little mess tomorrow. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have an immediate need for a clean kid’s studio, but he’ll double check later. He goes behind the desk to grab a pen and paper.

“So, if you wanna leave your email address here, and I’ll send you a link when I’ve done the edits and have uploaded them,” Jack explains, putting the paper on the counter. Eric shifts Gavin over to his left hip so he can write with his right hand. He pauses before picking up the pen, making sure Gavin’s toque is on. Gavin makes a noise in his throat, but his eyes stay closed.

“Um, do you have to edit anything?” Eric asks quietly. He sounds tired.

Jack clears his throat. “No. I can leave everything untouched.”

“Thank you.” Eric writes down his email address and then shifts Gavin again. It takes Jack a second to realise he’s reaching for his wallet.

“What are you doing?” Jack asks.

“Um, paying,” Eric says. He gives a Jack a funny look and tries to hand over his card.

“No,” Jack says. “Absolutely not.”

“What? No, you stayed late, you did so much,” Eric protests. “I know how much your shots are listed for, please charge me for that.”

“I’m not taking your money,” Jack says again, stepping back from the counter. It’s not like he’s lost any business letting Gavin take the pictures, so he can’t bring himself to put a price on the time he just spent with Gavin and Eric.

“This is a terrible way to run a business,” Eric huffs. “What’ll your boss say?”

Jack shrugs. “He’s a pushover.”

“Jack,” Eric says. He bites at his bottom lip.

“Eric, don’t worry about it. Honestly.”

Eric frowns at Jack but puts his card back in his wallet. “What’s your favourite dessert?”

That’s not what Jack excepts. “What?”

“When I have a minute, I’ll make you something.”

“Uh.” Jack looks at Eric, who’s looking back, expectant and completely serious.

“Do you like pie?” Eric asks.

“Yes?” Jack answers.

Eric nods, satisfied. “Good. I make really good pie.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack says. “Honestly, it’s fine.”

“When I have a minute,” Eric repeats. “I will make you the best pie you’ve ever tasted.” He bounces a little, getting a better grip on Gavin. Jack doesn’t think about why or when that minute will come.

“Okay,” Jack says slowly. “I’ll uh, get those pictures up and send you the link as soon as possible.”

“Thank you Jack,” Eric says. He looks down at Gavin’s sleeping face. “Seriously. Thank you so much,” he says softly.

Jack just nods and unlocks the door so they can leave, a lump in his throat as he returns Eric’s wave after he puts Gavin into his carseat. He watches Eric walk around the car, wave one more time before getting and driving and Jack hopes with his whole heart that he sees them both again.

He locks the door and turns away from the window, hoping that he does get to see both of them again, and feeling sick at the thought of why he might now. Jack doesn’t blink away the tears this time.