#when i moved i left the book behind at my grandma's house... i wonder if it's even stored away. probably got thrown out 💔

[dormiloncito]

just remembered watchmen

[xxx-wounded-angel-xxx]

Love blooms in bookstores - part one

Hi 🌻anon ! Here's the first part of your request, I'll try to get part 2 out as soon as i get out of my writer's block.

Felix Volturi x reader

Wordcount : 1188 words

No one had wanted that small bookshop your grandma left behind, but you. “Old books are boring”, said your uncles. “Moving in another country is not interesting and too much trouble”, said your parents. “This shop is too much work”, said your cousins. They all wanted to sell it, even if it meant giving up the apartment above it. “But no”, you said, “I will take it.” And so you did. You wanted to be a librarian at first, but this was a wonderful opportunity, to inherit the bookstore your grandma loved so much. You also had fond memories of Volterra…

So, you signed the papers, put all your belongings in boxes, stopped talking to your family that was pissed at you for not selling the shop that would have brought them money, and you left for Italy. Your Italian was not perfect, but it was good enough and would get better with practice. You also received your grandma’s saving that were connected to the inheritance of the bookshop, and learnt the same way that some patrons of Volterra allowed you a fund for taking care of that historical building, an important shop for the community. Once the paperwork was complete and everything was in order, you finally moved to Volterra. It was almost a religious moment, the one when you finally unlocked the door to the bookshop. It wasn’t as big as you remembered, you weren’t so little anymore, but it was still as magical as you remembered it. It was hard for you to fathom that you would never see your grandma behind the counter again, but at least you got to make her legacy keep on living, like you knew she wanted. You explored the shop a little, but quickly moved to the living area upstairs, where you would live from now on, you had to settle down. The house had been empty for a good few months now, and you had to clean up a lot of things. You brought all your things in, leaving in boxes most of your belongings for now, you would have to get rid of some of your grandma’s things first.

It took you a whole week and half to choose what to keep and what to get rid of, donating and selling what you wouldn’t have the use for. Once that was done, you organized your own belonging, and you were finally settled in. It was now time to take care of the bookshop. You started to look in the book of counts, and it didn’t seem too bad. There was even a regular, a certain Demetri Aster that would regularly buy a lot of books for a good amount of money, keeping the bookshop afloat practically by himself. You hoped that this client would not mind the change of owner, and remain a regular client. Sadly, you quickly discovered that very few things were done by computer, you would have to change that, like the way to keep track of the stock for example. It would be much easier for you in the end. You decided to start to familiarize yourself with the bookshop by doing the full inventory, which was the most logical way in your eyes, and also a good way to get to touch every book.

That was on your second day of inventory that you met him. Despite the bookshop not being open yet, you had kept the door open, to keep some air flowing in to prevent you from dying from that many dust. A smooth and masculine voice had resonated through the shop as you were inventorying your third bookshelf of the day, asking if you were finally open again. You turned to the intruder, discovering a well-dressed man, maybe in his late mid-twenties looking at you. He was that typical well-dressed man you were expecting to see, except that he was very handsome, and you could swear he had an accent, even if you couldn’t pin it yet. “I am sorry, but I have not reopened yet. I am merely at the beginning of the inventory.”, you told him nicely. “I need to know precisely what I have and what I need before reopening grandma’s bookshop.”

At these words, the man apologized. “Oh, I am sorry to disturb you then. I was quite the good client for your grandmother, and I was hoping the bookshop would reopen soon… My name is Demetri by the way, and I want to say that I am truly sorry for your loss, your grandmother was a wonderful woman.” You nodded and felt bad that you looked so under-dressed compared to your usual self and covered in dust, while meeting for the first time who you hoped would be your best client. “I intend to reopen as soon as I can, and I am hopeful that I will be able to by the end of the month.” That brought a smile on Demetri’s face, he seemed to have missed a lot to have shopped in this particular bookshop. “That would be absolutely delightful!” Since he seemed to have the time, you allowed him to stay in the shop with you, chatting. You were curious about Volterra, life around and Demetri seemed to know a lot about the town and its surrounding. It was nice to chat with Demetri, and the rainy afternoon seemed to go by much faster in his company, until Demetri bid you goodbye, promising you to come back as soon as the shop was open again, and gave you his phone number in case you needed him.

Like you thought, it took you three weeks to finish the inventory, clean the shelves and organize the books, but also get a program to digitalize most of the things. You distribute flyers around the town to announce the reopening and change of owner, and text Demetri about the set date which delight him. He also promises to come with his brother, which pique your interest. When the day of the reopening finally arrive, you put on one of your best outfits, but can’t help but be a little worried at how bad the weather is, it is not really inviting… For the first hour, no one shows up. And when rain starts pouring, you thought it was a bad sign. But finally, you heard the door open, and a familiar voice greeting you.

“[Y/N]! It is nice to see the bookshop opened again!” “Demetri! It’s a pleasure to see you again.” You greet him, delighted to see your first customer. “I’ve ordered a selection of books on my own, so I let you have a look around…” That’s when you saw him. The man behind Demetri was a giant, so tall and muscular and handsome… Your eyes couldn’t let go of him as you took in his figure, his short dark hair, sharp jawline, kissable lips… He had his arms crossed in a casual way, the muscles flexing under his tight shirt, and you finally got the revelation why you were into bigger guys: you were waiting for him to show up in your life.

[onestormeynight]

Life After Penny

Rosie had collected all the photos and paintings that mattered from her mother's house before listing it for sale. It broke her heart to, but she followed through anyways. She had considered moving into the house herself. It was built for a single person and their pet, however, and it would take an entire remodel to fit everyone there. No. Better to have someone else live their best life there.

Rosie spent time with the girls every day after school reading them a chapter out of whatever book they were currently on. The weather was kind to them, allowing them to spend time on their small porch.

Nellie had convinced Ida to start drawing more and in turn, she would learn the violin.

"What are you drawing?" Nellie asked.

"A butterfly."

"Why?"

"It reminds me of Grandma."

Ida in particular was very fond of Costello. She loved to pet him and give him scraps from her plate, despite her mother's scolding that begging was impolite.

"Grandma used to make his food from scratch," Ida argued. "You just give him kibble."

"She spoiled that dog," Rosie tutted. "Kibble is just fine."

"So are my scraps."

Robin enjoyed having someone to jog with. He even liked to take Costello with him when he went fishing. Costello wasn't a yappy dog, but was prone to wandering off on his own. Robin was going to have to train him on recall.

Life after Penny felt almost repetitive. Rosie wasn't sure if this would be the new normal, or if she was using the routine to avoid her feelings. She had only let the girls see her cry at Penny's funeral and never since. Not that she wasn't a mess behind closed doors. Sometimes Robin had to take on extra duties with the girls so Rosie could compose herself.

She missed her mother horribly. The urge to pick up the phone and text her hadn't left. Costello would sometimes place his head in her lap and look at her with the same sad eyes she knew she wore herself. Rosie had a complete meltdown the day she realized she was the adult in her life now. There was no Aunt B next door and no Penny across the street.

"You've given me everything I need" she'd said to her mother hours before she died. Sometimes, when the world was quiet and she was left in her own head, she wondered about that statement.

Did she have everything she needed? Or, even as an adult, did Rosie still need her Mom?

((prev)) ((next))

[aestheticvoyage2022]

Day 361: Tuesday December 27, 2022 - “Christmas Day at The Finca”

The best Christmas gift given to me this year, was the gift of sleep and I opened it, finally after 9am.  That first breath of Christmas Day was a deep one.  Slowly, this old man stretched out of bed, appreciative of being able to go my own pace and wondering how I got so damn lucky.  I walked out to whats been a pretty normal world of baby boy up in his high chair eating his noodles and mama just makin house.  Howd I get so damn lucky.

I prepped the good camera, and was sure to capture a postcard photo of Christmas Morning 2022, and we called the dogs in to include them and made sure William knew that today was special, and that Santa had come for him being such a good boy, and having such a great year, and let him stroll in on his own through the baby gate, into the great room, to find the special unwrapped toys that Santas presented so carefully the night before. And whats this? A special little surprise?!  A pair of Santa’s gloves left behind...and a note!  A note from Santa on the back of one of his gifts.  So awesome!  And already, Im dreaming about the magic of Christmas 2023 with a two year old.   William was so precious taking his sweet time with each gift.  No particular hurry - because why should he expect anything more?!  He got everything he needed in the first two minutes afterall, with a true blue little blue truck, and a stuffed Abby Kadabby doll.  The real special gift this year was a learning tower to help more safely unlock the air up there to help in the kitchen.  There were plenty of good learning toys, and fancy mind benders, and wonderful books.  So much great stuff to keep his attention for his growing brain on those long daddy weekends to come!  I was more excited than he was.   We slowly moved through the morning, and when it was time for nap, we all agreed to a halftime and it was then as I organized from the first half, and cleaned up the sweet mess, I thought about how much fun this was, and easy.  Howd I get so damn lucky?

After lunch we came back to the tree for some final big ticket items!  We facetimed in with my parents so that Papa and Grandma could connect with William and open presents with us.  I scored a bean bag chair for my office!  I enjoyed the gift of trying to spoil Audrie and making sure she was taken care of for all that she does for us and our family.  She affirmed me later for the thoughtful “self care” gifts, and I hadnt thought of it that way, but yea thats the Christmas spirit...  I love you, I support you, Im here for you.  Thats really the gift I was trying to give.  I want you to know that I know that Im pretty damn lucky.

We got the Christmas Ham in the oven - and it didnt matter how long it took or what dinner would look like - I was resolved to not stress about anything today.  I guess that Christmas Ham was already a couple days late anyway!   When the food was ready, we huddled around our patio table with Audrie’s parental units, then enjoyed sitting around all together enjoying Christmas all together.  The third round, and William still going strong. Precious, secure, happy, right through the end. Not over stimulated, not fussy, not needy or clingy.  Just a perfect little Christmas boy, loving and kissing his grandparents, fascinated by his thoughtful presents, and happy to have us all together, and functioning well.  I looked out at the mess in front of me and though “he’s pretty damn lucky”  - so much love.

Song: Taylor McCall - So Damn Lucky

Quote:  "Nothing ever seems too bad, too hard, or too sad when you've got a Christmas tree in the living room." ~Nora Roberts

[reg-arcturus-black]

hiiiii! i hope you’re having a wonderful day, filled with sunshine & rainbows !! 💫✨ may i please request sirius x daughter! reader imagine where the reader is staying with sirius for the first time since he went to azkaban and when she goes to bed he tries to tuck her in but struggles because the last time he’d have done it, he probably would’ve read her a story but she’s presumably grown out of that by now and so he’s not really sure what to do ? 🥺🍄 oml and her room probably hasn’t been touched in like 12 years- the memories, the guilt he must feel- i’m gonna criiiii

Hi!!! That is so kind of you 💕 I hope you're doing okay in these terrible, terrible times 🌸❤

This was honestly such a beautiful plot! Thank you. And I did cry while writing it... Hope you like it, too 🤗

The Reunion (Sirius Black x Daughter Reader)

1.4k words

Fluff

Requests now open.

Masterlist

You paced nervously in the hallway, waiting for that knock on the door. Ever since you were 2, you had been living with your grandparents. Your mother was a muggleborn and was found by the vengeful deatheaters a few months after Sirius was imprisoned. Your grandparents didn’t understand a lot about the wizarding world, but they understood you. They were your best friends.

When you would ask about your mother and the bad people who took her away, they would gently sit you down and tell you all about her. They would tell you how much she loved you, the way she had cried when you were first born, how similar she was to you, how she had spent every minute fighting for your father’s innocence.

They would then tell you about your father. How much he loved your mother and you, how you had his grey eyes and the beautiful hair and his affinity for mischief. They even told you about his friends and the pranks they did in school.

Your mother had so many pictures from her school days. Pictures with your father, with her friends, with his friends. You could spend the entire day looking at them. But you could never bring yourself to. It was too difficult. Too difficult to look at the pictures of the two most important people you barely remembered.

Harry was younger than you. Once you had received the news that your father had broken out, you both had talked a lot about him. You told him Sirius was innocent but you had no proof, neither did he have any reason to believe you.

Once his fourth year and your sixth year was over, you had gotten a letter from your father. He was finally healthy enough to travel and wanted to meet you at the apartment he and your mother had shared. You had spent 2 years there as an infant before Sirius had been wrongly accused and your mother moved back in with her parents.

Your grandpa and grandma were ecstatic when they had heard the news and had instantly allowed you to spend the weekend with him. You didn’t know if you were nervous or excited. Probably both.

Your heart beat sped up when you heard a knock and ran to open the door. You were greeted by a man looking in his 30s who looked so much like you. “Dad...” you said, not being able to believe that he was finally here.

He smiled and pulled you into an awkward hug. “It is so good to see you, sweetheart.”

You grinned and let him in, closing the door behind him.

He looked around the house he had shared with your mother, all the memories rushing back. When they had first bought it, decorated it and his favourite one, when they had brought you home from the hospital.

“I - you can have a look around if you want,” you offered, not knowing what else to say. “It must have been a long time since you were last here.”

He nodded, “It is, but I am starving. You want to have dinner first?”

You gave him a small smile and went towards the dining room. “I didn’t know what you liked so I got pizza.” You said nervously. “We can get something else. I am sorry I wasn’t - ”

“Pizza is just fine,” he grinned.

The silence during dinner was very awkward. Neither of you knew what to say. Sirius’ heart was heavy with sadness and guilt. How he had missed out on all those years. Missed out on your firsts. The first time you left for Hogwarts, the first time you had cried over someone, your first detention. And guilt because it was his fault. If he wouldn’t have gone after Peter, he would be there to watch you grow up.

“Uh, how is school?” he asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Nice, I like it there,”

He nodded. “I did, too. My family was the worst so Hogwarts was my home. Especially after I met your mother.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Your heart clenched at her mention and didn’t say anything else during the rest of the dinner.

“Do you wanna see the rest of the house before you sleep? I don’t think you have before.” He asked.

You shook your head and followed him upstairs. The first door he opened was the master bedroom’s, a picture of your mother and father lying on the nightstand, covered in dust. Every inch of the room and the bathroom was covered in dust.It had been so long it was a miracle the light switches worked. With a flick of his wand, he cleaned it all up and made it look as good as new.

“She was beautiful,” he sighed, looking at the photo.

You nodded and left the room quickly, going to your nursery. There was a crib on one side and a bed on the other. The wall had a shelf full of books, both muggle and magical alike. A broom hung over your crib, zooming around in circles. This room, too, was covered in dust.

You were reading the titles of the book when you heard him chuckle behind you.You turned around and saw him remove all the dust. You gasped when you saw the room properly. There were hand-painted drawings on the wall and stars on the ceiling.

“She painted the walls.” he told you. “And the stars were my idea. There were nights when she missed you a lot and would come in here and sleep in this room. After a point, we all slept in the nursery, hence the bed.” He laughed fondly.

You didn’t like it. It was too painful to know that you had all these wonderful moments but you hardly remembered them. Too painful to know that you never got the chance to make more of such moments. You sighed and sat down on the bed.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, sitting down beside you.

You looked at him, eyes full of unshed tears. You never realized how much you had needed him until he was right in front of you. “I - I barely remember you. Or mom. I see flashes of you and her, but that’s it.” He placed an arm around your shoulder and your voice broke. “I missed you, but it was so difficult missing you when I didn’t even remember you...” You then broke down into sobs as he pulled you into him. “I missed you so much, dad.” You cried.

Holding you in his arms as you cried only drowned him deeper in guilt. “I am so sorry, baby...” he said softly. “I never should have left that night. Please forgive me.”

You sniffed and looked up at him, tears still rolling down. “When grandma told me what you had done, I was so angry at you for leaving. But then I realized I wanted to be like you. Brave and loyal to a fault. McGonagall says I resemble you two so much that it is actually scary.” You laughed softly.

He smiled and wiped away your tears.

“I will be right back,” you said and left the room to change after sitting in silence for a few minutes.

He smiled softly to himself, knowing that his daughter had missed him just as much as he had. It gave him peace knowing that you had forgiven him. He was going through the story books when he realized that you were not 2 years old anymore. He couldn’t read you bedtime stories anymore.

“There are a few photos I need to know more about,” you said from behind him, as if reading his mind. “You can tell me about them.”

He nodded and ran off to get the photographs from downstairs. You placed the box in front of him and settled into bed, waiting for him to begin.

He chuckled at the collection of pictures your mother had. “These were my friends,” he said, handing you a photo of 4 boys with arms around each other, laughing to the camera. “Peter was a friend, too,” he said sadly.

“Tell me more,” you asked, your eyes full of excitement.

He laughed and began an elaborate tale of the Marauders in Hogwarts, reminiscing all their pranks and memories. Somehow, talking about them with you was not as painful as it was with others or when he was by himself and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

By the time he was done, you were already asleep. You had not completed the story behind even one photograph. He chuckled softly and tucked you in, kissing your forehead.

Now that he was finally home with his daughter, he was not going anywhere ever again.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

illicit affairs

pairing: sheriff lee bodecker x younger! reader

warnings: smut (18+), cheating, age gap

a/n: i love perfumes which smell of daisies so i made the reader use something like that. i do imagine her going for a very much female appearance and aura despite her personality and i can see lee fancying that sort of fragile femininity look paired with her independency. this song is based of illicit affairs from taylor swift but i was also listening to all too well at some points so i think some of that passed onto the writing. hope you enjoy xx

> DRESS

Leave the perfume on the self that you picked up just for him so you leave no trace behind like you don’t even exist. Take the words for what they are a dwindling, mercurial high, a drug that only worked the first few hundred times ... And you wanna scream don’t call me “kid”, don’t call me “baby”, look at this idiotic fool that you made me. You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else. And you know damn well for you I would ruin myself a million little times ...

The snow settled onto the ground, a view she could see from her white window. Sprawled against her window pane, the blue soft fabric of her dress cascaded down her body as she watched the snow fall and become one with the mass of white covering the once green grass of her home. Her feet dangled in anticipation, hair cascading into hairdresser set curls, held away from her face with a pearl barrette. Her fingers dangled across her collarbones, feeling the cold matching pearls which unlike her barrette clip, had been offered to her by Lee on thanksgiving. “A pretty girl like you deserves her own pearls” his voice echoed in her mind whenever her feeling felt the smooth irregular circle shapes of the pearls laying against her collarbones. There was nothing more than she wanted than to wear those pearls to the police winter ball, to show up wearing something he had bought for her with what money he gathered from his fickle Captain position, but she couldn’t. Everyone knew what she had, what jewellery she had, it was all valued at the insurance centre downtown and the pearl necklace definitely wasn’t. Her own pearls rested inside her ivory jewellery box along with the ribbon she was wearing around her waist when she first kissed him, and the comb that held her hair in place whenever she met him during windy nights. 

Her grandmother had left before her, leaving with the grocery shop owner as her date for the ball but she had stayed behind. She had told her she’d rather go alone, blaming her loneliness on the fact all the boys her age were either engaged thus going with their wives and the single ones not wanting to do with her. Of course that was further from the truth and as she watched the snow fall, she imagined Lee’s cruiser driving through the snow, stopping in front of her home and knocking on her door to take her. But those were nothing but impossible scenarios created from the deepest part of her psyche. Looking over her shoulder, the clock on her bedside table shone 9PM into bold red letters. She should get going before her grandmother got worried. Her eyes lingered across her beauty parlour to the silver platter with her perfume, the one she’d picked just for him after hearing how much he loved the smell of daisies. She had to leave it, she couldn’t put any perfume on, she couldn’t take her pearls, she doesn’t exist. At least, she as Lee’s lover does not exist for all that everyone could know and nothing hurt more than the sound of her pearls returning to her ivory box. It was were they belonged, away from everyone, hidden, a mysterious sin secret. 

With her white fur wrapped around her arms, she entered her glossy yet dull red car, pulling the hood up despite the weather. She wanted to feel the cold, she wanted that numbness to hide what she had been feeling for the last months. It was all so exhilarating when it began; the summer walks, laying in the middle of the forest in an old towel as he feed her ripe strawberries, escaping from her grandmother’s house at night and meeting him up under the apple tree in light dresses. However, at time wind down, she started to crave the rest of a relationship, the holding of hands. Instead what she got was clandestine meetings in parking lots, behind the bars or in the middle of the forest when no one could see them. She constantly told herself it was going to eventually be her turn, he was gonna leave Jane for her. Yet, she seemed to constantly fall on the same error every mistress before her did, the mistake of forgetting her place. Stopping in front of the old town hall where the ball was being held, she could see the soft lights, hear the laughter and it made her sick. She didn’t want to go in, she didn’t want to see those happy couples but she had too. She had to put up a show, be the little pedestal trouble starter woman she was expected to be and so she would. 

Stepping into the hall, her eyes immediately found Lee in the corner speaking with the Sheriff, arm draped over Jane’s shoulder while the other hand held a clear cup probably with his favourite drink. Her heart sunk to the same place it always did as she got lost in the dance floor. She knew everyone in this town hall, from the first boy she ever kissed Jonah and his third wife Elizabeth to Billy whom had been prom king with her. There was nothing new anymore and what once felt new and true was now anchoring her inside a fishbowl of images of her own mistakes and unfulfilled life needs. 

      - Hey, Y/N. - Billy called out for her attention. She held onto the fur wrapped around her for comfort as she prepared her facade of a happy girl at a happy party. - Your grandma told me you ain’t gotta a partner for tonight. Could’ve told me, I would’ve taken you. 

      - It’s ok, ain’t like I need a man. - she replied, almost angrily although he deserved no anger from her. - What’s the stage for? We’re getting a band tonight?

      - No, the new sheriff candidates announcing themselves tonight. Prepare for the blood bath. 

      - Sounds interesting. - she spoke out, her voice getting mumbled out as the mic’s sound hurt her and everyone else’s ear. The police chief stood there in his best attire, holding a small piece of papers, his fat thumbs hitting the mic to gather everyone’s attention. He already had their attention merely by wearing a cowboy’s hat with a formal suit. 

       - Now folks, we all now how much we gonna miss our good old Sheriff but it’s time to elect a new one. - his southern accent was pronounced, too pronounced, cartoonish even. Y/N remembered laughing as a child when she first heard him speak only to immediately shut up when her grandmother looked her way with a look which left room for no questions. She herself had barely developed an accent, her grandmother still very keen on instilling in her the education she herself had gotten. However, the longer she spent with Lee, the more it would sometimes slip; one or two words, nothing major. - Of course, Leroy is running again.

     - I don’t know why he tries. - Y/N whispered to Billy, concealed laughing smile behind her hand. 

     - You gotta admit it’s a good thing to imagine. Damned Leroy and his prostitutes running the town? We’d be forgotten by God.

     - We’re already forgotten by God. We were banished from the garden of Eden, don’t you remember? - she teased, always enjoying to toy around with the religion Knockemstiff was so hang up on. - We’re probably direct descendants. 

     - You ought to keep that mouth shut if you don’t wanna get in trouble. - he warned yet it went through deaf ears. Y/N liked stirring it, specially when it came to things which were so analytically flawed. 

The regular list of candidates continued to go from officers to common folk who all believed they could make the town better. At least that was all they said they wanted to get some votes but at the end of the day, they just wanted to control the town with an iron fist. Do what they wanted without anyone question it. She couldn’t blame it, humans are hardwired to go crazy for power and let it consume them so she just let it pass. She knew all the candidates, they were always the same. Leroy, Matthew, Edwards ... all the common ones, she even wondered why they kept announcing it. Those three competing for the sheriff position was as certain as the sun coming up each morning. 

      - The last candidate is our cap’tain Bodecker. - her head snapped to the stage as every sound seemed to dim until she was surrounded by pure silence. All she could hear was the buzz from her ears as she watched him climb up the stairs to the stage, shaking the chief’s hands. 

Everything seemed to be stuck in slow motion yet her mind was running faster than a shot bullet. The clapping was slow, everything was silent yet she could see their hands slowly clap and their lips moving in whispers. Her eyes roamed the crowd finding Jane right in front of the stage, looking up at him with adoration at the possible place she could possible hold; the sheriff’s wife. The slow motion ended with a loud crash and suddenly everything seemed just too fast. She ignored Billy’s pleas for her attention and moved straight to the small plastic tables covered in burgundy towels to make it look fancier where all the drinks and food were being held. One of her only friends from high school Mary was the one in charge, happily serving food and drinks to anyone who asked.

     - Hi Y/N. - she always looked like the perfect housewife and that was always what she wanted to be. Beautiful, bountiful blonde hair with a few flowers matching her pink dress. Despite it all, she was always nice to her even with their different life goals. 

     - Hey Mary. How’s Paul? I heard from rumours you two had quite a nice honeymoon. St.Louis, right? 

     - Yes. He booked us a nice honeymoon suite, it had flowers and those heart shaped beds and chocolates. It was real nice, I’m hoping to be pregnant soon. What about you? Your grandmother said you came alone. You could’ve told me, my brother would’ve taken you.

    - That’s alright, Mary. I don’t intend to stay for long ... Uhm, can I have a drink?

    - Of course. Sidecar, as per usual? 

    - I think I’ll just have a double cognac, please. Or maybe some gin ... whatever can make me dizzy the fastest.

    - Everything, okay?

    - Just need to forget some stuff, it’ll be okay. - she forced a smile. At least half that phrase was true. Mary served her up with her best gin and she returned to the dance floor, trying to blend with the rest of the attendees, however her baby blue dress was much too different from anything else in town. 

Y/N thought she’d be best outside where no one could see her and so she left, avoiding Billy who kept asking for her. She leaned against the old wood of the town hall, mascara running down her cheeks, and gin glass on the other one. She looked like the perfect warning tale of why you should not mess her married men. She knew better, she knew so much better but she still did it, like the idiotic little fool she seemed to be. Y/N sighed, the air condensing in the air as she drank from the glass.

     - Pull yourself together, Y/N. - she looked to see side, her grandmother standing outside with the look she used to give her when Y/N embarrassed her as a little girl. - What did you expect?

     - I’m just not having a good day, nana.

     - You’re hanging around with Captain Bodecker that’s what you’re doing.

     - What?

     - Don’t play innocent with me, Y/N. You’re just like your mother and I’ve raised your mother so I’d know. I saw you leave in his car last week. Do you want to defend yourself?

     - Is it even worth it? - she took a sip out of her drink. - What do you want me to say? 

     - I want you to pull yourself together and go inside. You better have this finished off before those elections start. I will not have my granddaughter be a home wrecker.

Y/N ignored it. There was nothing her grandmother could say that hurt more than what she was already feeling. She watched the snow fall from the cover of the banner covering the town hall, cold and icy yet somehow warmer than her. The drink didn’t last forever and although it was much stronger than what she was used to, she didn’t feel the slightest bit dizzy. It was if the universe was punishing her for her choices. She shook her head, leaving the glass onto one of the windows. She’d be better off at home and she’d already made her appearance. If someone asked where she was, she could’ve blamed it on their drunkness. Opening her little clutch, she started fishing for her keys through a sea of change, makeup and receipts. 

    - You better not be thinking of driving after you just drank. - she turned her head to see Lee with his hands on his waist, playfully smiling at her. His smile faded as he noticed the streaks of mascara from her eyes to her jaw. - Did that shithead Billy say something? 

     - No ... Lee, I wanna go home okay. - she sighed. - Can you just pretend you didn’t see me drink?

     - I was hoping we could spend the night together. Rent a hotel room outside town. A real nice place, with a pool and some room service. My treat of course.

     - I ... We can’t, Lee. Your wife is inside as she’s gonna notice you’re not there and you’re not home. 

     - She’s going home early. Jane’s been taking a few sleeping pills. She’s down for the night, won’t even notice. - he took a few steps closer to her, knowing everyone was too drunk to even remember. - I was waiting for you to come greet me, congratulate me. I can’t believe my girl wanted to leave before showing me how pretty she looked. 

     - You didn’t tell me you were running for Sheriff. - he cupped her face, thumb caressing her cheek. - You said it was a silly position.

     - Yeah but ... it’s a Sheriff. I could become Mayor, ya know. The old sheriff thinks I’d be good for it. - he scratched the back of his neck, something he always did whenever he was nervous or was confronted by something he did not expect. Y/N had learned to read him and knew him better than her own favourite books. - C’mon, kid. It’s a night worth celebrating, don’t you think?

     - Don’t call me kid. - she shot her head his way, his word hitting a particular hurt spot which she didn’t realise she had. 

     - Hey, I’m not trying to mock ya. - he rose his hands. - What’s wrong, huh baby? Hm? Tell me sugar, I hate it when you’re upset. Besides, if it was that Billy kid I’ve been wanting to give him a good beating.

    - Don’t call me baby, either. - she sighed, throwing her purse inside the car, before turning to him. - Billy didn’t do anything I’m just ... tired.

    - I’ll drive you home, then.

    - I don’t wanna go home either. - she pushed her hair from her forehead, looking at the ground. The snow engulfed her feet and her shoes, yet it might as well have engulfed her entire being. Lee noticed her lip trembling and how her free hand was trying to stop tears from falling down. He looked behind him, the town hall door shut, before taking his jacket off, draping it over her shoulders, and opening the car door for her. 

 Y/N daren’t look him in the eye, instead sitting in the passenger seat as he pushed the hood of her car up. After all, most people did not enjoy driving in the snow with the hood up. She didn’t know where he was taking her and for all it mattered she didn’t want to know. If he was driving her to her killing location, it sounded much better than having to work out through the bubbling feelings in her tummy. Y/N didn’t even noticed how much she was crying until the tears started streaming so fast they were falling onto the palms of her hands like diamond daggers. She leaned her head against his shoulder, watching the road ahead through the blurry orbs of her own eyes, trying to find some warmth through him. The drive seemed endless and her mind rushed in an even more endless way as she considered all her choices til now. She found it unbearable how not guilty she didn’t feel about it. She could still remember the feeling of the cold water against her body and his lips against hers, being tangled in his bed sheets while he drank a beer, his grunts as he thrusted into her inside his patrol car. She remembered every detail either it being lust or romantic but most importantly she remembered how he looked at her. It was almost as through rose coloured glasses, most of the times agreeing with her pessimist view of the town she was in. Lee looked down on her, watching her perfect hair break through the gelled curls she had set down. He never liked the polished look anyway, he loved to see her walk in her white dresses and freshly washed hair flowing with the wind. This woman sat next to him was gorgeous but he preferred his Y/N, he preferred the woman who would poke fun of casualty and rush into the woods with her nightgown. This woman next to him was pretty yes but she seemed tainted by a sadness he could see yet couldn’t help. He didn’t want his Y/N to be the slightest bit sad. She did not deserve it. She was too pure, too young to be consumed by the loneliness, darkness and sadness that came with being an adult. Yet again, he had to start learning the young woman she was wouldn’t stay young forever. He wanted to know how to help. he wanted to be the man who wakes up next to her on summer mornings and winter evenings but life is not how we plan it out to be.

She watched the snow fall from her window as “You are my sunshine” played on the background from her radio. Looking up to him, his eyes were glued to the road, the sign of leaving Knockemstiff way past them and the hotel on the horizon. She called it the Heartbreak hotel, with its red walls and luxurious nature. A more fancy place for those who wanted to give a better night to their mistresses but that was not why she called it the heartbreak hotel. It was due to the fact she ended up crying every time she or he left. While inside those walls, she could pretend they were Mr. and Mrs. Bodecker, young couple moved out of Knockemstiff on a romantic getaway yet she wasn’t Mrs. Bodecker, Jane was. She had seen who the future sheriff’s wife was and it was not and it would never be her. He stopped the car in the parking lot, looking at her who was lost in thought, leaned against his shoulder.

   - Come on, sugar. What is it? - Lee kissed the top of her head. - The heck happened in that Town Hall?

    - Just being silly, Lee. - she shook her head, faking a smile. - Just don’t like parties one bit.

    - I hate ‘em too, sugar. All show no action. Besides no party is a party without my baby. - he hooked his ring finger under her chin, softly pulling it up. She tried not to look at the moonlight illuminating the silver band around his finger, a symbol he belonged to someone else and she knew it. She had seen the wedding photo on his secretary, a much younger Lee with a much younger Jane with the facade of a happy marriage. Thinking about it always made her sick and ever since seeing that picture she couldn’t bring herself to do so. - Come on, let’s get you a bubble bath, yeah?

She followed him into the hotel almost in a zombie like state until the reception. The talk was a dance she had danced before, it was all the same. Lee would present money in cash so it wouldn’t show up on his credit card statement. He would sign in with a fake address but with his own name and no one would question it. After all, the staff wanted money, they didn’t care if it was an illicit affair or not. To be honest, she didn’t care much anymore.

     - Mrs. Bodecker? Mrs. Bodecker? - the receptionist called out to her but it didn’t even register until she was looking her into the eyes. Mrs. Bodecker, she was definitely not. - Would you like a complementary tea? You look cold.

     - No, it’s okay. - she smiled while Lee grabbed the keys. His hand wrapped itself around hers, leading her over to the elevator.

God, she wanted him. She really did, he thought to himself. It was an unbelievable feeling to have someone who loved him back, someone who always had encouraging words to tell him, someone who would stay after a fight. He thought and imagine what it would’ve been like if she was born earlier, god he would’ve courted her and would’ve married her the second they were out of high school. Sadly, the woman he loved was born 10 years after and he met her when he was married. He led her to the 13th hotel room and closed the door behind them.

     - Things are gonna be different when I’m sheriff. No more sneaking around, no one will dare  say a word. I can move to Brewer Heights, heck, I can buy two houses, one just for you and me.

    - Lee ...

    - Where are your pearls, sugar? You know I love to see you with them, makes you look so pretty.

    - You know I can’t wear them in public, Lee. I am not your ... - she shouldn’t say that, she should not let those words out. - They’re not insured under my name, people would comment about it.

     - You worry too much. - he pushed the fur that covered her arms down, placing a small kiss on her elbow. - My little over-thinker.

     - One of us has too, Captain Bodecker.

     - How about some champagne? - he pointed towards the champagne bottle in the ice bucket by the dresser before walking towards it, raising it so he could inspect the brand. He longed for the finest things in life, no longer wanting to be that middle to low class man he’d been forced to be. Being Sheriff, Mayor someday was going to be really something, it’d be his chance.

    - I’m not 21 yet, Captain.

    - Only a month til you are, kid. - he filled two long crystal flutes, handing it over to them. - By then I should stop calling you kid, huh?

    - You shouldn’t call me kid, now. - she took a sip of the golden liquid, hoping it would take away her jealousy. Lee hummed, leaned over to kiss the crock of her neck, climbing up to her jaw in a move that was sure to leave marks. It was okay for him to leave marks on her, she was unmarried, young but on him? Sometimes she wanted to, sometimes she wanted to mark his pale plump skin as a possession, one that screamed Jane might have the wedding ring but she had the man. Yet, she couldn’t. - You look so handsome tonight.

    - You’re my worse critic. - he smirked, placing his glass on the bedside table before pulling her chin towards him, placing a soft kiss on her plump, painted lips. - God, you can’t even imagine how fucking hard I got when you walked in.

    - Such gentle behaviour. - she teased, fingers lightly tracing the skin of his face. He moaned, leaning in to kiss her again. - I wore it just for you. Blue. I knw you like it.

    - You’re always such a good girl for me. - he started to remove his jacket, pushing on her chest lightly so she laid against the luxurious bed.

The alcohol sure did a better job than her about making her forget what she was doing it. The alcohol and his kiss, his touch on her skin made her forget the clench in her heart when she saw Jane Bodecker clap once they said his name. It made her forget she couldn’t hear perfume around him unless he showered, it made her forget. Both of her moaned through the kiss, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that it was a sin. Maybe that’s why it taste so sweet, the sin, the thrill. None of them cared really and all he wanted to do now was hold her, touch her, look at her.

    - You are so beautiful. - he spoke, more to himself than to her specifically, leaning down on the bed as he spread her legs, taking his place in between them which was so familiar to him. Lee ran his knuckles through the middle of her folds, cold hands making her shiver. - Ev’ry darn day I wake up and I think, I got myself the most beautiful woman in the world.

Her eyes were glued to the ceiling, the white paint of it engulfing her as his hands caressed her thighs. All she could feel were his cold hands massaging the skin of her thighs, spreading them apart and giving him full access to her. His lips attacked her core, always chapped which made her feel so good, it made her know it was him giving her that pleasure. She moaned out loud as he dwelled in like a starved man, her head relaxing against the pillow. There was never any mercy with him, he teased her like he owned her, focusing on her clit while licking her folds. He had her exactly where he wanted her - starving for him.

   - You’re gonna see. - he mumbled out while he relentlessly ate her out. - When I’m sheriff there will be no more hidin’. No one gonna dare say anythin’ about it.

   - Lee, please ... no foreplay. - she whined, begged even as he stopped his motions. His eyes curiously searched for hers, hands pulling his body up as he stood on top of her. - I just want to feel you.

   - Weren’t you feelin’ me, sugar?

   - You know what I mean, Lee. - she wrapped her hands around his neck, head cocked to the side. - I don’t want any foreplay today.

    - Oh sugar ... - he chuckled leaning down to kiss her collarbone. - You’re just a cock slut for me, aren’t ya? Can’t just wait for me to treat ya right ain’t it, baby?

     - Lee, please. - she whined, hands wavering over his police issued chunky belt. Lee smirked, holding her hand before she could do anything. Y/N pouted, head leaning against her shoulder. - C’mon.

   - But baby, you look so pretty when you’re begging. - he returned to kiss her neck, leaving marks which were sure to become hickeys tomorrow but she didn’t care. No one was going to see it. - I was expecting you to come congratulate me in the way you always do, maybe in the back of the town hall. Hoping someone would catch us so they’d see you’re my girl.

    -  Lee ... -  she whined as he kept kissing her neck and collarbones. - Please.

    - Tell me what you want, baby. You know I do everything you want. - he rose from her neck, toothy grin as he leaned down to kiss her plump, pink painted lips. - Tell me you want my big fat cock. I know you do, baby. Tell me how much you need it. 

  - Lee ... please, need you.

  - You have me, baby, tell me what you need. Tell me what you want. - his knuckles ran through the middle of her folds again. - You’re so wet, baby. Just tell me what you want, c’mon

  -  Lee ... please. - she looked at him with those wide eyes that could get someone to commit murder for her, as he pushed down his trousers. - I want you to fuck me with your ... big fat cock, Capitain. 

  - Oh, baby ... - he leaned his forehead against hers as he pushed his cock past her entrance, eyes shut tight  as he tried to keep himself sane at the mere feeling of her walls contracting against him. His lips found hers as he shed himself fully into her. Her hand searched for his, as Lee slowly rolled his hips against hers, basking in the mere high that was being inside of her. - You okay, baby? 

  - Yeah. ... fuck, move. - she whined as he removed himself from her and pushed back in, slowly starting to rock into her as he always did. The little tease. Her hand clenched his as he speed up his thrusts, lips returning to hers in a messy, moaned filled kiss. All she could hear was the sound of skin against skin and interrupted breathing. - Lee, fuck.

  - I know, baby. - he laughed, returning to kiss her the way he liked as her walls started to clench more forcefully against his member, milking him for all he was worth. His free hand grabbed her hip as he further sped up against her, bruising her skin as his breaths got more raggedy. He bite onto her neck as he felt his control over his own orgasm disappear. 

  - Lee, fuck! - she moaned, almost raising off the bed as her own orgasm washed over her. Her head fell against the pillow, sluggish as he continued to thrust into her until ropes and ropes of cum painted her walls. He chuckled mid grunt, holding her against him as he turned around in bed. 

  - You all fucked up, aren’t ya, sugar? - he kissed the top of her head. - You’re gonna see, sugar. Things are gonna be so much better.

  - Right ... - she cuddled against his chest. - Hm ... Lee can you drive me back home early on?

  - Early shift?

  - Yeah.

  - Okay, sugar.

The morning was a harsh breaker of dreamy hazes and just like that she was back to the place where she always was, in her home, surrounded by the scent of the perfume she had bought just for him. She sat on her dress, taking the necklace he had given her from the little mother of pearl seashell shaped box and holding them against her chest. She loved him, she really did. Some people had their downfalls and hers was painted onto her neck and held by her hands. He was her downfall. 

The sun was high up on the snowy midday in Knockemstiff and once again Lee had been resigned to desk duty after the Sheriff not taking it too lightly he decided to run without his permission. Normally he would’ve been upset but he knew, he knew he was close to winning and then he could throw away those stupid hotels and just get her a little house close to him. God, he couldn’t fucking wait.

    - Captain Bodecker, someone here for you. - his secretary knocked on his door. - Mary Gillies, sir. 

    - Mary Gillies? - he knew her to be a friend of Y/N’s, perhaps her only friend other than that punk Billy. - Send her in.

    - Good afternoon, captain. - she said as she walked into his office. - I’m so sorry to be bothering but Y/N ...

    - Is she alright? - he interrupted her.

    - Yes, well ...  - she rummaged through her bag to find a cushioned envelope with his name on it. - She told me to give you this.

   - What is it?

   - I don’t know, captain. I must get going, my husband is waiting for me.

   - Of course. Thank you, Mrs. Gillies.

He waited for the woman to be out of his office and for the door to be shut for him to open the envelope. The minute he opened the envelope, pearls fell into his desk, the same pearls he had given Y/N followed by a small note in the dusty pink stationary that normally laid on her dresser. Turning it around, he saw the words he’d been dreading to read or hear ever since he met her. I’m sorry, Lee. He threw the letter on his desk before getting up from his desk as fast as he could, ignoring the calls from his colleagues as he got into his cruiser. Damned, Brewer Heights, why couldn’t it be closer?

He approached her home fast and closed the door as fastly as he ran up to the door. Her hag of a grandmother was possibly at church and he had learned where they kept the spare key; behind a violet pot. His heart was beating as fast as a deer on a hunt as he climbed up the stairs and found the once filled room was empty, with only a perfume bottle on her empty dresser. He observed the whole room as if he were in a nightmare, sitting on her bed as he clenched the pearls he had given her not so long ago, the smell of daisies in the air as some song played on the still turned on radio.

You never know dear how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away ...

taglist: @lookiamtrying​ 

[emospritelet]

Twisted Fate - chapter 28/28

Last time, Belle made up with her father, and Gold and Neal had a heart to heart. After all the crap I've put these idiots through, I'm pleased to say that they get their HEA. This is it :)

[AO3]

x

Gold waited for Neal to call Emma, pacing nervously in the hallway as he did so. He tried not to listen to the one-sided conversation, the ‘okay’, the ‘yeah, I know’, and the ‘I guess we’ll see’. Despite their hug, and the tears that had been shed, Neal still sounded cautious. He supposed that was only to be expected; Neal had taken less than a day to consider the matter, and there were tests to be done before paternity could be confirmed, after all. Gold had been honest when he said the outcome didn’t matter to him, but after decades of thinking his father hadn’t even known of his existence, it would matter to Neal. How could it not?

He was pleased that Neal had agreed to come to brunch, and to invite Emma and Henry along with him. It was unlikely that Henry would be told at this stage, but there would be time for that. Neal was willing to talk to him, and to let him get to know his family. All things considered, it was a more positive outcome than he had anticipated. He was trying not to think about how Neal might react if the test came back negative.

The muffled sound of talking ceased in the lounge, and Neal entered the hallway, closing the lounge door behind him and shoving his phone in his pocket.

“Uh - they’re gonna meet us there,” he said, and Gold nodded.

“Right.”

“They’re not far,” added Neal. “We took Henry to the bookshop this morning, and I thought, since I was in the area - well, I thought I may as well stop by.”

“I’m glad you did,” said Gold sincerely, and Neal hesitated only briefly before nodding.

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

The walk to the diner was made in relative silence, Neal’s hands shoved in his pockets as he sauntered along with his head down, seemingly lost in thought. Gold wanted to speak to him, but held back, feeling awkward and unsure of what to say. It was a relief to get to the diner and see Belle seated at one of the tables in the window, a book held open in front of her, pressed flat by the fingers of her right hand, with her left gently rocking Gideon’s stroller as she read. She looked up as they entered the diner, and her face broke into a beautiful smile that made him want to propose there and then. He pressed his lips together and told himself to bloody well wait until he wasn’t an emotional wreck.

“Hey!” she said, reaching out to touch his arm before squeezing Neal’s hand. Neal sent her a lopsided grin.

“Hey there, Mom,” he said, and she giggled, her eyes sparkling.

“Okay, that’s a little weird, not gonna lie.”

“You’re telling me,” he muttered, but he winked at her.

“Are you joining us for brunch?” she asked.

“Yeah, I asked Emma and Henry to come too.”

“Oh, great!” Belle looked from him to Gold and back again. “Does - does that mean..?”

“It means we’re having brunch,” said Gold easily. “And that Neal and I have agreed to take a test and get some answers.”

“Oh. Well, that sounds like a good idea.”

“Yeah, it’s - well, I guess we have to start somewhere, right?” said Neal, scratching the back of his head and pulling a face. Belle closed her book.

“And what better place to start than with cinnamon pastries and good coffee?” she said, and Neal chuckled.

“Wow, you really did become a mom.”

“Loving it so far,” she said, and patted the seat next to her. “Come on, sit down. They do the best Eggs Benedict here. And the pancakes are awesome.”

“One order of pancakes here,” said Neal immediately, taking a menu from her. “Emma’ll probably have the eggs, though.”

“Why don’t I get some drinks?” asked Gold. “Belle? Tea?”

“Iced, please.”

He nodded, smiling, and raised a hand to attract the attention of the waitress. One step at a time.

Their drinks arrived shortly before the rest of the family, Henry running ahead of his mother with a wide grin on his face, interrupting the conversation just as Gold was tentatively suggesting that they might want to visit Storybrooke one day.

“Hey Mr Gold!” said Henry excitedly. “Hey, Belle! I got a new book! It’s about a princess and a dark wizard!”

He waved a hard-backed book in the air, almost knocking Belle’s iced tea over, and she put a hand over the glass as Emma rolled her eyes with a sigh.

“It sounds wonderful,” said Gold, shooting Belle an amused look. “You can read some of it to me after we’ve eaten, if you like.”

“Cool! Can I have pancakes?”

“Take a look and see what you want on ‘em,” said Neal, and Henry flopped into one of the chairs and took the menu from Belle.

“Wow, they have different kinds!”

“I’ll take that menu after you, kid,” said Emma, sliding into the seat between him and Neal. Gold noticed her give Neal’s leg a reassuring squeeze and receive a pat on her hand in return.

“Dad, did you see these waffles?” Henry held up the menu. “They have strawberries and cream!”

“Yeah, they look good, huh?” said Neal. “Did you make a choice yet?”

“Not yet.” Henry bent his head over the menu again, chewing his lip, and Neal and Emma shared a glance.

“Henry,” said Neal. “How would you feel about going up to visit Storybrooke, in Maine?”

“What’s in Storybrooke?” asked Henry curiously, looking up.

“Belle used to live there,” said Neal. “And Mr Gold has a house there. A big one. He says we could stay over for the weekend with him and Belle sometime.”

“There’s a cabin, too,” said Gold. “It’s by a lake in the woods. Plenty of space to play.”

“Ooh! Can we have a barbecue?” asked Henry excitedly, and Gold laughed.

“Yes, we could do that,” he said. “Did you decide what you want on your pancakes?”

Henry wrinkled his nose.

“Actually, the waffles look really good,” he said. “Can I get one of those?”

“You can have whatever you like,” said Gold. “That goes for everyone. This is my treat.”

“That’s really nice of you,” said Emma.

“It’s been some time since I was able to treat anyone,” said Gold, catching her eye. “Looks as though I have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

Emma held his gaze, and nodded.

“You’re here now,” she said. “That counts for something.”

“Yeah,” said Neal quietly. “It counts for a lot.”

He too held Gold’s eye for a moment before turning to help Henry with his brunch choices, and Gold felt something loosen inside his chest, a sense of something that was almost relief beginning to spread through him. He glanced at Belle, and she was smiling at him, a soft look in her eyes that made him want to crawl across the table and kiss her. It was going to be alright. Everything was going to be alright.

-

Two years later

It was a bright and pleasant day in early May when Gold’s Cadillac pulled up outside the pink Victorian on the outskirts of Storybrooke. A U-Haul van was already there, Neal in dark jeans and a blue cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up, opening the back to reveal stacked cardboard boxes. Belle got out of the car, turning her face up to the sun with a sigh of pleasure as she stretched. It felt good to be back in Storybrooke at last, although she had loved the Boston apartment that had been their home for the past couple of years. Her studies were done, Gideon had just turned two, and they had decided to move back to Storybrooke permanently.

“God, someone open the damn door, I gotta go!”

Emma had climbed out of the U-Haul, almost waddling to the path, her hand on her swollen belly. She and Neal were due to have their second child in three weeks, and she had been grumbling about her discomfort for the past two. Gold followed her with his swift, limping stride, reaching the porch before her and fishing out his keys to unlock the door. She headed for the stairs immediately, not looking back, and Belle grinned, remembering her own frequent bathroom trips at that late stage of pregnancy.

“Here, you want a hand with the kids?”

Neal appeared at her side, grinning widely, and Belle smiled back.

“Could you get the stroller out?” she asked. “I can get Gideon.”

“I’ll get him.”

Gold had reappeared, pocketing the front door keys, and leaned in to kiss her with a smile before heading around to the other side to un-clip Gideon from his car seat.

“Here we are, Gid,” he said easily, lifting him out. “Welcome to your new home.”

Belle smiled as Gideon looked around, supremely unconcerned at the news. They had visited Storybrooke a number of times over the past two years, though not since before Christmas. She was looking forward to spending their next Christmas in the house with all their family, including Emma and Neal’s new little one. Though she could have done without the ‘Grandma’ title Henry had cheerfully given her.

Neal had taken out the stroller and unfolded the frame, and Gold put Gideon down, ruffling his hair absently.

“Guess I’ll start taking the boxes,” said Neal.

“I’ll help,” chirped Henry, appearing at his side.

“Don’t lift any of the heavy ones, leave those for your dad,” said Belle, as they headed for the van.

She turned back, watching as Gold reached into the rear of the car to un-clip the seat carrying their new baby daughter. Florence had been born in early April, and Gold was besotted with her. She stared up at him with wide, dark eyes, her head covered with soft brown hair.

“Here we go, my princess,” he said softly, a wide grin on his face, and Belle smiled as he clipped the seat into the stroller and closed the door.

“I’ll take her in and get her changed,” she said. “She’s probably due a feed, too. Would you warm the milk?”

“Of course.”

Gold scooped up the bag containing Florence’s baby things and hurried towards the house. Belle shook her head as he disappeared through the door, wondering where he got his energy after a restless night and a long drive with two small children. Gideon hurtled up the path after his father on sturdy legs.

“Gid, slow down!” she called.

He looked around at her, still running, and tripped, hitting the path with a thump as his arms tried to break his fall. A wail went up, and Belle sighed.

“I’ll get him,” said Neal.

He shifted the box he was carrying into one arm and went to scoop up his little brother. Gideon wrapped his arms around Neal’s neck, still crying, and Neal shushed him, bouncing him in the crook of his arm.

“Hey little guy,” he said soothingly. “You’ll be okay. See what happens when you don’t listen to your momma?”

Gideon calmed in his big brother’s arms, and Neal kissed his cheek.

“There, see?” he said. “All better. What do you say we go see Papa and get a nice cool drink in the kitchen?”

“Cookie?”

“If your Mom says so.” Neal glanced at Belle, who nodded, and he tickled Gideon’s ribs, making him squeal.

“Yeah, let’s get a cookie,” he said. “You’re getting bigger, huh? I bet you’ll eat as much as me at dinner.”

“Go see Ganny?” asked Gideon excitedly.

“Yeah, we’re going to Granny’s for dinner,” promised Neal. “You can show her your new book, how about that?”

“An’ cake!”

“Yeah, you can have some cake, too.”

Belle watched them head up the path, Neal balancing Gideon on his hip with the box in his other arm. She could hardly keep the smile from her face. In the past two years Neal, Emma and Henry had truly become family. At times she had caught Gold looking at his son with pride and something approaching disbelief on his face, as though he was half-expecting to wake up from a dream at any moment.

It hadn’t all been perfect, of course; there had been difficult moments as they went through therapy, and tears on all sides, but it had brought them closer together. Emma had even been talking about getting a job in Storybrooke sheriff’s office in a year or so, and Gold had offered to help Neal set up his own accountancy business. They hadn’t made a firm decision on the move yet, but Belle thought it was only a matter of time. Henry was certainly enthusiastic about the idea, and had already made friends with a couple of the local children. The thought of having her whole family in Storybrooke was wonderful.

She inhaled deeply, drawing the scent of cut grass and fresh flowers into her nose, and began pushing the stroller up the path towards their house. It was good to be home.

-

Belle licked her lips, fingers gripping the sturdy brass key and turning it. It moved smoothly in the lock, a satisfying click sounding, and she pushed open the door.

The library smelt of fresh paint and beeswax polish, the contractors having finished with the decorating the week before. The wooden floor and circulation desk had been polished to a high shine, empty stacks lined up, waiting to be filled with the collection of books that were stacked in cardboard boxes along the wall. Towards the back, there were folding tables and chairs, some sized for adults and some for small children. Belle intended to run some after-school and evening classes, and had already spoken to Mary Margaret about a collaboration with the school.

Stepping forward, her heels clicked on the polished wood, and she walked slowly towards the circulation desk, running a hand along the curved edge as she let her eyes roam around the space.

“Surveying your new domain?”

She smiled at the sound of Gold’s voice, and turned on her toes to face him. He was standing by the doorway, the spring sunshine silhouetting him through the glass, dust motes dancing in the air around him like fireflies.

“Where are the kids?” she asked, and he glanced over his shoulder.

“Emma and Neal are watching them,” he said. “I have you all to myself.”

He was grinning, and Belle shot him a level look.

“No hanky-panky in the library,” she said severely. “I want this place to be successful, and it won’t be if no one comes in because they’re worried about catching us in a compromising position.”

“You say that like it’s inevitable.”

“Do I need to remind you about David walking in on us in the pawn shop that time?”

Gold waved a hand.

“The sign very clearly said Closed,” he said. “It’s not my fault he can’t read.”

Belle giggled, and turned back to look over the library. He stepped forward to stand by her side, eyes flicking over the freshly-painted walls.

“It looks good,” he said. “All ready for the inimitable touch of Storybrooke’s wonderful new librarian.”

Belle slipped her arm through his, resting her head briefly on his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t have it if not for you,” she said. “I’m still amazed you got the Mayor to agree.”

“Well, exerting influence is what I do,” he said. “Besides, she’s an intelligent woman. She knew the building was only standing idle. A relatively small investment of town funds was worth it to provide a valuable public service.”

“I certainly intend to make the most of the opportunity,” said Belle, turning back to run her eyes over the empty stacks. “I thought next Saturday for the grand opening. I’ve asked Granny to prepare some party food, and I need to make some flyers, design some activities for the kids…”

“Get some books on the shelves?” he teased, and she grinned.

“I thought you, Neal and Henry could help with that tomorrow.”

“Hmm.” He looked amused. “I suppose Emma shouldn’t really be carrying books in her condition.”

“She can supervise,” said Belle. “I’ll give her a crash course in the Dewey Decimal system and she can hold a clipboard and boss us around.”

“Sounds like something she’d enjoy,” he said dryly.

“You like being teased by your daughter-in-law, admit it.”

“Certainly not.”

He was grinning, and she turned on her toes to face him, twining her arms around his neck as she leaned in to kiss him gently.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For believing in me.”

“Well, how could I not?” he said, his grin widening. “Miracles happen whenever you’re around.”

“Sweet-talker.”

“I never exaggerate,” he said gravely. “You should know that by now.”

“I know that I’m a very lucky woman,” she said, and he smiled.

“I’m the lucky one.”

-

The silvery chimes of the old music box played, and Gold crooned a low lullaby as he rocked his baby daughter in his arms. There was a faint sound of laughter and conversation from down in the kitchen, but Florence barely stirred as Gold kissed her forehead and laid her in the crib.

“Sleep well, my darling,” he whispered.

He took a step back, turning to the music box and winding the key to ensure the tune continued to play while she settled into sleep. The music box had sat in the nursery in Boston, playing its tinkling tune first to Gideon, and then to Florence. He was pleased to be returning it to Storybrooke, where he had first acquired it, and where he had painstakingly worked to restore it over the long months when he and Belle were trying to rebuild what was broken between them.

“Is she asleep?”

Belle was leaning in the doorway, and he looked up with a smile.

“Out like a light,” he said. “What about Gideon?”

“Fell asleep before I finished the story,” she said, and he smiled and held out a hand to her.

“Care to dance, Mrs Gold?”

She stepped forward with a smile, taking his hand as the other crept around her waist and pulled her close. He breathed in, pulling the scent of her in through his nose and sighing it out, and Belle let out a tiny noise of contentment.

“I’m so happy I met you, Alexander Gold,” she said.

“So am I,” he murmured. “I got a second chance with you, Belle. A second chance at life. I swear to you, I don’t want to miss a second of it.”

Belle raised her head, shaking her hair back off her shoulders.

“You won’t,” she said decidedly. “We’re going to have an amazing life together.”

“It’s already more than I could ever have dreamed of,” he said sincerely. “I have a beautiful wife who gave me two incredible children. I have my son back in my life, and a daughter-in-law, and soon I’ll have two grandchildren.”

“More family than you know what to do with,” she teased, and he chuckled.

“Oh, I think I could stand to have more,” he said, grinning, and Belle swatted his arm.

“Give me a year or two and we’ll see,” she said, and Gold laughed.

“Deal.”

Her smile grew, and she rested her head on his shoulder. The music tinkled on, and he held her close, feeling the warmth of her body against his as they moved in time. Life was beautiful.

[btsqualityy]

Heaven Sent; Part 6

Jin x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings: Emotional manipulation (at least, that’s what I think it would be catergorized as).

Month seven was a month of exploration. After you and Jin admitted to being attracted to each other and deciding to try things out to see what happens, you were seemingly thrown into the deep end with how open Jin became after that.

You learned that he loves to cook, and that he would’ve been a chef if he hadn’t taken over the business end of his father’s restaurants. He double majored in both business and culinary arts, and he was Hae-il’s roommate and the first person that he met during their first year. He loves trot music, and you’ve unfortunately been on the receiving end of him serenading you with a song numerous times. He also loves video games and you were willing to bet that if he didn’t have to work, then he’d been stuck behind a computer screen playing games all day. 

There was just so much more to Jin and his personality that you never knew about, and you couldn’t believe that you found yourself liking him more and more as the two of you spent more time together. 

“Uncle Jinnie, can I get the songpyeon?” Aera asked Jin from her place perched on his shoulders and you couldn’t help but to laugh at the way that she pronounced the word. The three of you had met for brunch at a little café down the block from his office, where he had been doing some work.

“Little Heart, we’ve talked about this,” Jin chuckled as he patted her feet where they swung lightly by his chin. “Just say rice cakes.”

“But I’m a big girl and that’s what the sign says!” She shot back and you smiled as you looked up at her.

“Don’t remind me,” you chuckled. “You’re growing up too fast Love.”

“Can I get them uncle Jinnie?” Aera asked again, and you and Jin could both hear the impatience that had creeped into her tone so he rapidly nodded before turning to the cashier.

“Can we have two pink lemonades, an iced Americano, a songypeon and two dasiks?” Jin ordered and the cashier nodded. Jin then reached down, pulling his wallet out of the pocket of his slacks and taking out his card, handing it to the cashier. After he got his card back, the three of you moved further down the counter so that the next person behind you could place his order.

“I hope that we didn’t pull you away from anything too important,” you spoke up as you looked at Jin. 

“Nah, I was just filling out some paper work and signing off on some things, so it was mostly procedural stuff,” he told you. “And even if it were really important, I don’t mind taking a break for you guys.”

“It’s also Saturday, so you shouldn’t be overworking yourself anyways,” you smiled gently, trying to hide the way that your cheeks had warmed up from his words. 

“Order #353,” a voice called out and you and Jin stepped up to the counter, grabbing your drinks and snacks. After finding a small table in one corner of the café, the three of you sat down, Aera perched on Jin’s lap as she ate her rice cake. 

“Did you have a good week at school Little Heart?” Jin asked her and you watched as her little eyes widened.

“Yes,” she whispered and Jin looked down at her, his eyebrows raised in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“She had an issue with a boy in her class on Wednesday,” you told him and he looked up at you. 

“What happened?” He wondered.

“The little boy made a comment about Hae and Aera stomped on his foot and hit him in the stomach,” you revealed. 

“Aera,” Jin called disapprovingly and Aera’s head whipped up at the utterance of her real name from Jin. 

“It wasn’t my fault!” She exclaimed. “He said Daddy died because he doesn’t love me and I know that’s not true so I hit him!”

“Of course it’s not true sweetheart,” Jin cooed, lifting his hand and wiping away at the hot tears that had started to gather in the corners of her eyes. “Your Daddy loves you so much and he wouldn’t have left if he had the choice so that boy shouldn’t have said that. That doesn’t mean that you can just go around hitting people either though.”

“Mommy said the same thing,” Aera pouted.

“That’s because Mommy’s pretty smart,” Jin smiled. “So no more fights, ok?”

“Ok,” Aera nodded before going back to eating. 

“Thanks,” you said and Jin raised an eyebrow as he brought his cup of coffee to his mouth. 

“For what?”

“For backing me up,” you replied. “She’s always better convinced if more than one person tells her the same thing.”

“Just like Hae,” Jin laughed as he shook his head. “Anyways though, what do you guys have planned for today?”

“Me and Mommy are going to see grandma and grandpa today!” Aera interjected suddenly. 

“Your parents?” Jin asked and you shook your head.

“Hae’s,” you told you. “I think it’ll be good for her to see them, especially after what happened this week. We’re gonna go catch up and then Aera is gonna stay the night.”

“Good idea,” he agreed. “So does this mean that our regular Saturday movie night is cancelled?”

“Only this one,” Aera told him and he smiled before reaching down and tweaking her nose. 

“Good,” he said, making her giggle as you watched them fondly.

After finishing your drinks and snacks, Jin walked with you and Aera back down the block to your car. He put her inside, helping her strap herself into her booster seat before shutting the door and looking down at you.

“So, are you and me still on for our movie night?” Jin smirked and you reached out, smacking his chest lightly as you rolled your eyes. 

“You’re gross,” you giggled. “But yes, we’re still on. I’ll only stay with Aera for about an hour and then I’ll be home so you can just come over whenever.”

“Alright. I do have to finish up some stuff but I don’t think it’ll take me long at all,” he responded. “Still, I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

“Ok,” you smiled and the two of you stood there in silence for a few seconds, just looking at each other. 

“Is she looking?” Jin asked and peaking your head around his arm, you saw that Aera was looking down at one of the books that you kept in the car for her.

“Nope,” you told him and suddenly, his lips were pressed against yours. You kissed him back, sighing contentedly before pulling away.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he whispered, and you nodded.

“Bye.”

......................................

“Oh, hi my baby!” Jin-joo exclaimed, leaning down so that she could catch Aera in her arms as Aera rushed up to her. You shut the car door, smiling as you walked up to the front steps of Hae-il’s parent’s house.

“Hi Y/N-ah,” Gun greeted you and you stepped forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling back. “Is that little one’s bag?”

“Oh yeah, it has all of the things that she’ll need,” you nodded, pulling Aera’s small backpack from over your shoulder and handing it over to him.

“We still have some of her stuff here though,” Gun mentioned.

“I figured but she’s hit a growth spurt in the last two months or so,” you told him with a smile. “It seems like she outgrew every single piece of clothing that she owned all at the same time.”

“That just means you’re eating well huh?” Jin-joo smiled at Aera, who nodded rapidly in her arms. “Well, both of you come on in.” You followed behind Jin-joo and Gun, watching with a smile as they both helped Aera take off her jacket and her shoes. As you worked on taking off your own shoes and jacket, Jin-joo handed Aera off to Gun.

“Why don’t you show Aera some of the new things that we bought for her?” Jin-joo suggested and Aera’s eyes instantly lit up. 

“New toys?” She wondered excitedly.

“Why don’t we go see?” Gun chuckled, turning off and carrying Aera off down the hallway. Once they were gone, Jin-joo turned to you with a wide smile.

“Tea?” She offered.

“Please,” you nodded, following behind her into the kitchen. You sat down at the small table that was there and you watched silently as she grabbed a kettle, moving over to the sink and filling it with water before moving over to the stove. 

“How have you been getting along dear?” She asked you and you sighed lightly, thinking over your answer. 

“Honestly, I’m doing a lot better than I thought I would be after only 7 months,” you admitted. “I haven’t burst out crying in a good three weeks or so, which I consider to be progress.”

“That’s definitely good progress,” she chuckled with a soft smile as she moved to sit across the table from you. “And Aera?”

“Oh, she’s been doing amazingly,” you smiled. “Well, of course besides the incident on Wednesday.”

“I felt so bad when you called and told us about that,” Jin-joo sighed. “I bet she misses him so much.”

“She does,” you confirmed. A few seconds of silence passed over the two of you before you heard her take a deep inhale. 

“I have to say Y/N-ah, and I really hope that you don’t take extreme offense to this, but I began to think after you called Thursday,” Jin-joo began. “And I couldn’t help but to wonder if Aera acting out that way has to do with Seokjin?” Your eyes immediately widened at her words, not expecting her to say that.

“What would he have to do with that?” You questioned.

“Well, I know that she’s been spending an increased amount of time with him, with the both of you, together,” she corrected herself. “And with her being so young, I can’t help but to be concerned about what that’s doing to the memory that she has of her father.”

“Jin-joo, you’re skirting around what you really want to say, and I’d prefer if you would just say it,” you told her.

“Alright, fine,” she nodded. “In my opinion, it is much too soon or you to be moving on and seeing other men and Aera is clearly suffering from it.” You couldn’t help the chuckle that you let out then, the disbelief almost overwhelming you.

“First off, the relationship that I have with Jin isn’t anything like you’re thinking,” you said. “Secondly, you know me Jin-joo. You know I’d never do anything that would carry even the slightest risk of harming Aera in any way, shape, or form.”

“But you’re grieving, and grief can make us do things that we normally wouldn’t,” she noted.

“I can see that,” you replied tersely. 

“Look Y/N-ah, I’m only concerned about your and Aera’s well being,” she insisted. “Hae-il’s death has greatly affected all of us but more than anyone, it’s affected Aera the most. Now, I know Seokjin and I know he more than likely has the best of intentions but I don’t think it’s a good idea to allow him to get too comfortable in Aera’s life.”

“But he’s already been around since she was born,” you shot back. 

“Which makes it even worse that he’s pursuing you not even a year after her father’s death,” Jin-joo explained before exhaling harshly. “I’m going to ask you a question and I would like an honest answer.”

“Ok.”

“Did you love my son?” She asked and your jaw dropped slightly.

“Of course I did, and you know that better than anyone,” you spat harshly.

“Then for the sake of that and the sake of the wellbeing of my granddaughter, who is the only tie that any of us have to Hae-il, you should wait to involve yourself in any other relationships,” she advised you and you hated to admit it, but you really began to think about what she was saying. Things with Jin had happened very quickly and even though you had been concerned with how your relationship with him would look to others, it hadn’t been at the forefront of your mind.  

Even though you didn’t like how she approached the topic with you, you had to admit that just maybe....she had a point.

......................................

Your thoughts only began to run away with you even more after you left Hae-il’s parents house and made it back to your own. 

You never wanted your love for Hae-il to be doubted but you could understand why Jin-joo would ask you a question like that. You had been spending a lot of time with Jin but you had always justified it by saying that if he makes you and Aera happy, then there was no harm in having him around.

But did he really make Aera happy though? It seemed like he did and she definitely loved him, which no one with eyes could deny, but she was also an easily distracted 6 year old who would be happy if you gave her a sucker. You had to think about if having Jin around so much was causing her to act out or not, because maybe she felt like she was loosing touch with Hae-il and that was absolutely the last thing that you wanted. 

Once you got home, you decided that you wanted to be close to Hae-il so after taking a shower, you changed into a pair of his old jogging pants and one of his button up flannel shirts. After making yourself some ramen, you settled down with it on the couch, making sure to grab your photo album on the way. Grabbing a blanket, you pulled it over your lap and opened the photo album, choosing to look through some of the photos while you waited for your ramen to cool down. 

The very first photo you saw was from your and Hae-il’s engagement photo shoot, where he was sitting in a chair and you were standing behind him, your arms wrapped around his neck. Your engagement ring was on display, a dainty ruby rock that fit around your left ring finger perfectly. You’d always loved that ring, even sometimes favoring it over the gold wedding band that you exchanged with Hae-il a year after that engagement photo shoot. You hadn’t worn it since Hae-il died though, not being able to stomach looking at it for more than a few seconds at a time.

The next photo was of you and Hae-il on your wedding day, your eyes shining with tears as Hae-il read his vows to you at the altar. That day was amazing, the love that you were feeling for him almost overwhelming you at times throughout the ceremony. You laughed to yourself as you remembered how Hae-il almost spilled wine on your wedding dress at the reception later that night, getting slightly too tipsy on soju as he tried to whisk you around the dance floor.

As you continued to look through the photo album, you hadn’t even realized that tears had been welling up in your eyes until it rolled down your cheek and onto the photo album, splashing right onto a photo of you, Hae-il, and Aera that had been taken on her first birthday. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “I can’t believe that I even thought that I’d be able to do this.” As you continued to look through the album, your phone buzzed on the table and when you leaned forward to pick it up, you saw that you had a text from Jin.

“On my way out soon,” it read. “We still on for tonight?”

Biting your lip as more tears rushed down your face, you huffed harshly as you realized what it was that you needed to do. 

“No,” it stated simply. After making sure that it sent, you then turned your phone off, setting it back on the table before looking back down on the photo album. 

“I love you,” you whispered as you ran your finger over a photo of Hae-il holding a baby Aera and smiling brightly at the camera. “And I’m so sorry if I made you think that I didn’t.”

[teenyweenynightghost]

A breath of fresh air

 Chapter 2

Warnings: Anxiety, mental health issues

The summer passed slowly. Everyday my mother would drag me to a new place, either getting some medical tests done, or academic ones. She took me shopping for new clothes so that I could make her proud at my new school. As if that mattered.

I no longer managed to find myself within nature. I would get anxious when I tried to enter the forrest, or I would simply be so distracted I couldn’t even notice what flowers were around me. Same thing with photography. Nothing caught my attention, nothing seemed worth it anymore. The world was running around me, leaving me far behind, fallen on the ground.

The day I would leave finally came. The fight was no different to those I took when flying to my grandma, but this time I was scared. I wasn’t flying towards comfort and peace, but rather going to a whole new place, a land of uncertainty and doubt.

My cab pulled up in a gigantic driveway. I could see kids of all ages running around, talking and greeting new people. I started feeling anxious again, my breath was caught in my neck and i started suffocating in silence as my door suddenly opened. Outside stood an old woman, her face wrinkly and lean, looking at me with a soft gaze. “Why don’t you step out darling, I promise no-one here bites”. I tried to force a smile and push my way out. 

Now standing in front of her, I noticed that she was tall. Much taller than me. She was wearing a light blue blazer and a matching midi-skirt, with a white ruffled blouse underneath. Her hair was dark brown with streaks of gray, all tied up in a tight up-do.

“My name is Mrs Henson, i am the head-mistress of the school. You must be Aurora Gardner.”

“Yes, I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I reached out my hand and met hers in a tight shake.

“I’m glad you made it here safely. Now, there will be staff coming to pick up your luggage and taking it to your dorm. Meanwhile, I would like to introduce you to your roommate, who I’m sure will be nice enough to give you a tour of the campus.”

With that, we started walking. I noticed that the drive-way extended into a big circle, further being guarded by the surrounding buildings. It all looked old, but similar to the things you see in movies. The architecture, the atmosphere, the flowers. But I couldn’t focus on all that right now.

We made our way towards a green area, filled with students chatting. I saw a rose bush on the side, and tried to examine it. Before I realised, a girl came up to us and started talking to Mrs Henson. My attention slowly shifted to her, as she was smiling brightly at us. I think my whole face fell upon seeing her. Her bright blue eyes captured my own, her nose ring complimenting her face perfectly. Her hair was all different types of shades of blond, reaching a bit lower than her shoulders. She had a nicely kept fringe and wore large cross earrings. I would have lied If i said that was not the most beautiful girl in the world.

Caught up in my own thoughts, I felt her place a delicate hand on my shoulder. “You still here, puppy?” My face turned red at that nickname, and my mouth suddenly felt very dry. I couldn’t do anything other than slightly nod at her. Upon seeing my reaction, she smirked and hugged me. “My name is Victoria, but you can call me Vic.” She let go and fixed her gaze back at me. “I’m Aurora” I responded quietly, my mind having been shaken from so much contact. I loved hugs, but It brought back memories. It was reaction I didn’t even know I had developed until now.

“Alright” she chuckled softly, a devilish look in her eyes “how about I show you around.” Before I could nod again, she grabbed my hand and lightly tugged me towards the main entry, not letting go even after making sure I was with her. I felt red again, this time worrying about my hand being clammy as well.

The tour was not that long. She mentioned that we had the same classes so she would come with me everyday, thus not needing to show me the academic area today. Instead, she took me to the library. It was a gigantic room, lit by crystal chandeliers and torches. In the middle, there was a large staircase splitting into two, one side leading to more books, the other leading to a study area. While I was taking it all in, staring in awe at my surroundings, I caught her looking at me from the corners of my eyes, I turned my gaze towards her only to be met by her bright eyes once more. She smiled again and said “I knew you would like it here, puppy” Again, my face turned an embarrassing shade of red and my knees started feeling weak. What was wrong with this girl and why could she do this to me? I looked away quickly and made my way towards a book shelf, thinking that the only reason i felt such a spark in me when that girl talked was anger.

A few hours later, she finally took me to the Sleeping Area. We climbed up two flights of stairs, and made our way down a dimly lit corridor. She pulled out a key which clinked in her hands when it met her numerous rings. Unlocking the door, she stepped away and made me room to enter. I looked down as I passed her, feeling her hand on my lower back, guiding me inside. Once again, I was as red as a tomato. 

“I already took the bed on the left, and it surely does seem like a lot of work to move all my stuff again, so you can either sleep on the right one or sleep with me.” At those few last words, I I almost choked on my spit, and turning away so that she couldn’t see the clear effect she had on me. Nevertheless, I didn’t need to be facing her to know just how much she was smirking.

I wobbled towards the right side of the room and sat down on the bed, looking at the window above it. “This one is just fine.” I heard her snort before she retorted back “I was kind of hoping you would say the latter.” This girl had something with me. I just couldn’t tell what yet.

On the wall opposite to me, I noticed a tall wooden cabinet, next to which was my luggage. I opened it and took out my pyjamas and hygiene kit, before turning back to Vic. “Do you know where the bathroom is?” She lazily pointed towards a door in our room I had not noticed, and smiled at the annoyed expression on my face. “Well princess, now that you’re all settle down, I’ll leave you to it. I have to go practice with my friends.” With that, she gave me a wink and left the room. As soon as I was alone, the atmosphere changed. It was gloomier, and it reminded me of an empty room before you would move houses.

To my surprise, the water was warm and the pressure was pretty good. After finishing all my business in the bathroom, I quickly stumbled towards my bed and covered myself with the heavy duvet. I was shivering from the cold air trapped in the room, but I noticed it only helped me relax faster.

There were still so many things in my head, a permanent buzz plaguing my brain. I weary and troubled, but I had no place to go. I glanced up at the window, the stars barely showing, and a tear fell down my face. I missed my grandmother and her soothing words, the way she waited for me every night and reassuring me that I would never be alone. As I felt my consciousness slip away, I wished for one thing; to not be alone anymore.

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

OK so here is chapter 2. I had fun writing it and I can’t wait to do the next one, where you will get even MORE vic stuff. and blushing of course.

LOve you babes and have a wonderful day

@fuckim-so-gay

[tae-cup]

Have a Merry Christmas :) - Yoongi

For: @yoongi-sugaglider​, Eommaaaaaaa 

From: Marria

Pairing: Musician!Yoongi x Author!Reader

Summary: The littlest of gestures have the biggest impact <3

Genre: Neighbors to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

Warnings: Your heart may burst from the fluff, like a little language here and there. 

Rating: PG

Word Count: 3.8k Words

A/N: I am not Christian, but I have a lot of holiday spirit, okay? Also, Eomma I loved writing this for you. Honestly, it’s so cute and I love you and everything you do. You’re doing great and I hope this is what you were hoping for! Alexa, play All I Want For Christmas is You by Mariah Carey 

Other: Masterlist

       Moving was a long and laborious task. Your arms felt like jelly as you clutched the heavy box of dishes. You kicked open the door of your new apartment as it began to close behind the line of movers going in and out. 

“Need some help?” A low voice grumbled. Assuming it was your father, you just groaned and nodded. 

“God, I didn’t even know I had so many dishes! I’m pretty sure I just use the same ones. I should give some back to you and mom.” You complained. 

“That’s great, but I’m not your dad.” Ah, shit.

       In your defense, the box blocked a majority of your line of sight and you were a bit preoccupied. What you didn’t expect was to see a handsome man staring at you through narrowed eyes. A small smile tugged at his lips. 

       He wordlessly held open the door for you to get into the apartment and you didn’t say anything out of embarrassment. You set down the box and when you turned around to say thank you and apologize, he was already gone. The door next to yours clicked shut. 

        Great. It wasn’t the first impression you had wanted out of your next door neighbor. You pulled your hair into a ponytail and swiped at the building sweat. You needed to do something to get on better terms with your neighbor. Or maybe you were overthinking things way too much. You began to unpack the dishes while the movers brought in the couch. 

         After the dishes were put away, you went back out to help the movers. On your way out, you glanced at the heavy oak door that was close beside yours. You bit at your lip and turned back to head downstairs. You had wanted to knock, to apologize or just say something. 

      Something something something. You were always doing something. They called you quite the ‘fixer’ in your house. Being an author was not usually a great career choice, but one thing did stand out about you; when something was wrong, you fixed it. 

        Min Yoongi ended up being quite the enigma, as you were soon to find out. Ever since your first meeting, he had been cordial with you. In all honesty, though, he rarely left his apartment. You did figure out that he was a musician and studying in the music department at the local college. How did you find out? Well, you weren’t a stalker, okay, but you did overhear conversations from time to time. The walls were thin. 

       You had noticed how he rarely had any visitors, even during holidays, and a few times you had wanted to ask if he wished to join you for celebrations like New Years or Christmas, but you never did. You found out why he was alone about a year into living in the building. You didn’t speak to him, but there was some attraction to the unknown. 

       It had been Christmas. You were packing and preparing to leave your monotonous life to spend time with your family. It was your favorite time of the year. Warm fairy lights were hung all around your apartment and the smell of cinnamon candles was in the air. 

       You shoved the last of your clothing into the bag. You were decked out with ugly Christmas sweaters, beanies, and boots. Just as you were about to leave, you heard the shouting of muffled voices from next door.

       Neither of those were Yoongi. You knew because, well, he just never seemed like the type to yell in an argument. In all your interactions with him, leaving in the morning, riding the elevator, you knew him to be a quiet and introverted man. 

      The shouting grew louder and you wondered if you should go knock on the door and check in. You exited your apartment and walked the few steps to stand in front of his door. Hesitation filled your mind and you bit at your lip. After a few more moments, you decided against it. You turned and started walking down the hall to the elevator. 

      Suddenly, the door to his apartment opened and closed with a loud slam. You felt yourself jump at the loud noise and you twisted your head to look at the door. Yoongi, with his faded blonde hair, you had noticed he was into dyeing his hair a different color every month, was exiting his room. He took brisk steps, mumbling something about getting some fresh air. 

      You glanced at him as he strode into the elevator with you. He was running his hands madly through his hair in a constant rhythm. Then he took in a deep breath. The elevator already held winter’s frigid air and you could see the lightest of breaths puffing out from his mouth. 

“My parents.” He said simply. You nodded in understanding, connecting the dots. 

“I’m sorry about that.” You said softly. He finally looked at you. You remained still, watching as the numbers ticked downward. 

       After a few moments of his eyes roaming your face, he turned back to look at the metal doors. 

“It can’t be helped. Most parents wouldn’t want their child throwing away their life on trivial pursuits.”

“Trivial pursuits, hm?” Your heart thumped quietly in your chest. You remembered the look your parents gave you when you told them about your wishes to pursue writing. 

“I want to be in the music industry. You know, like those kpop producers?” 

“I see.” You hummed in acknowledgement. 

        The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slowly creaked open. You hurried out, shouldering your duffle bag. The lobby was cold, the doors opening and letting a cold breeze in every time a resident entered or exited. Yoongi stepped out with you. This was the longest conversation you’d had with him for a year, it was oddly calming. 

       Yoongi was a listener and he took his time with his words. You reflected this in a way, but your support system was stronger. When you looked at his tired face, the way his lips pulled into a natural frown, you felt concerned. How was he holding up? 

“I think you should do what you want, Yoongi.” You said, walking to the entrance for the underground parking. He watched you go. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I am.” He said simply and turned on his heel, leaving for the regular entrance. 

       A few years passed like seconds. Your life was just flashing by your eyes. Schoolwork, your job, everything was the same. Each year you led a comfortable lifestyle, you even managed to get your book into the editing phase. More and more, your life and fascination with your neighbor had intertwined. 

      The words you wrote in your book became based on the intrigue of your mysterious neighbor. Who was he really? What did he do besides schoolwork? To you, it seemed he just sat inside and played piano until the early morning hours, just like he was doing now. 

       Christmas Eve was around once again and you were packing, once more, to go see your family. You wanted to leave extra early in order to spend more time with your grandma, whose health had been shaky lately.

      The sweet melody of silent night echoed through the quiet building. You glanced to your far left wall, trying to imagine him sitting at his piano, playing such a melancholic song such a happy day. 

      That’s when it really began; the notes. It started with a simple message scrawled messily on a sticky note. 

Have a Merry Christmas, yoongi. :) - Y/N

       You kept at it. Notes upon notes, everyday, 365 days. It gave you something to do and it was always a nice routine. You were sure he threw away each note and he never mentioned them when you stood in the elevator together either. It wasn’t anything bad. 

        They always just said simple things like Hope you had a good day today. Or Are you alright? Or, your personal favorite, Have you had anything to eat? The questions always ranged based on how you heard him enter his apartment. You tried your best to plan ahead, so you kept at least two in your pocket in case you forgot sticky notes. 

       You often thought over your feelings for him. He was nice, sweet, and on top of it, extremely handsome. You lazily wrote I like you one day on a sticky note and then crumpled it up, stuffing it into one of your pockets. Someday, someday. You told yourself. 

 “Whatcha got there?” You asked, eyeing the white grocery bag in his hand. 

       He stood next to you, as per usual, on the elevator. The elevator itself was old and slow. 

“Just some dried squid.” He said.

       You were quiet, which prompted him to continue.

 “They’re taking them out of stock this week and I don’t know how long until I can get them again. I don’t have time to go anywhere else. So I guess I’ve just got to stock up.” He explained quickly. You nodded, logging the information away into your brain. 

“Personally, I like Kyoho Jelly.” You said. 

“Ah, that’s good too.” 

       The next week, you went to another grocery store, and even though you weren’t a particularly big fan of dried squid, you bought several packages. For the next few weeks, you delivered your notes with a bag of dried squid. 

       Both you and Yoongi had rather...solitary ways of life. He spent his time holed up playing piano and you spent your time hiding in your room writing. In fact, you mostly had the same schedule as each other. It felt nice to have a companion on your short trips to and from school. Even if you didn’t say much, it was enough. 

         You ran into him on the elevator once more. He gave you a nod of acknowledgement and even managed a smile. You felt your cheeks heat up slightly. Who wouldn’t be flustered to speak to him? 

        Yeah, he had that nerdy, introvert, kind of look to him, but he had this mystery in his eyes, a coldness that could only be found through years of immense strength and resilience. You knew him to be dedicated. Your way of supporting him was by not knocking on his door when it was 1 A.M. and he was practicing the same piece for the hundredth time. 

       Yoongi held a folder of sheet music in his arms and you held your manuscript. The blonde looked at your arms. 

“You’re a writer?” He asked. 

“You could say that.” You shrugged and hit your floor number. You stayed still as he stepped in after you. 

“That’s...really cool.” He said awkwardly. 

        You were a bit surprised. You had expected him to be cool as a cucumber, very put together, but he seemed almost nervous as he stood beside you. He fidgeted quite a bit and averted his eyes away from you. 

“I guess.” You said softly, a warm feeling growing in your stomach. Then you bit your lip to keep from smiling.

 “I wanted to apologize about uh, the way we met.” You chuckled. “I didn’t know you weren’t, achem, my father.” 

          He looked away and you saw his shoulders shake with a silent laugh. Then he turned back to you. You saw a ghost of a smile left on his lips and he slowly let his face fall back into a neutral position. 

“It’s no problem.” He said stoically, then he broke character, “I found it quite...humorous and you’re cute so it’s no big deal.” 

        Then he flushed bright red and stumbled over his next words.

 “I mean, I-nevermind, this is awkward.” He rushed and took a deep breath. He released a sigh and you smiled at him. 

“Thanks.” You said gently. 

        The elevator dinged and you stepped out, waiting for him. Did he know about the notes? Why hadn’t he said anything? You glanced at his flustered face and decided against questioning him. He stepped out and began to walk with you in silence to your door. 

        You finally made your move. 

“Hey, I know I usually leave these on your door, but since you’re right here...I’ll just give it to you, okay?” You reached into your pocket and picked up the first crumpled piece you found. You handed it to him sheepishly and he took it, holding it carefully in his soft hands. 

“Thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.” 

He opened his door. “See you around.”

“See you-” the door shut. “-around.” You finished quietly. 

      You reached into your pocket and pulled out the other piece of paper. How’s your day? It read. Your face paled. Oh god, no. The only other paper in your pocket had been...I like you. 

         Your book had been slipping away from you. The editing process was tedious and time felt like it was getting away from you. Yoongi didn’t know about your book, he didn’t know how you wondered if he was alright, like some weird infatuation. It was normal to be worried about your neighbor, right? 

       On the subject of notes, you had gotten a rather harsh wake up call from your publisher. He had explained, in simple terms, that your book wouldn’t be successful. 

“The writing is okay, I guess, but what happened halfway through? I was sure the main character was going to end up with Brandon, so why does it so suddenly change? I think this will throw off readers looking for a cute romance novel.” He said, as if reading off a script. 

“But it’s realistic. You can’t fall in love and expect to be with the first man you lay eyes on.” You argued. 

“Look, Y/N, this is just supposed to be a ditzy romance novel. Don’t get into your head with metaphors and realism. That’s not what you’re good at and not what we signed up for. Thanks.” 

        And the call had ended just like that. Distressed was an understatement. You set your phone down on the counter and collapsed on the couch that lay next to the wall that connected Yoongi and your apartment.

          He was playing Nuvole Bianche, a rather sad song, and it pushed you to the edge. Everything was going wrong. Yoongi hadn’t even looked at you since you got the notes mixed up and you were sure he was purposefully avoiding you. 

        The tears began to stream down your face, painting your cheeks. The piano rose in intensity and a sob tore out. Years of work, and for what? 

      The disappointed looks on your parents’ faces, the raised eyebrows of your professors, all the words they had said to you in subtle jabs at your character, your career choice...were they true? Were they right? You curled in on yourself, sobbing loudly. You didn’t even notice the piano music halt. 

      The only sound were your sobs, the hopelessness that settled in your bones. Maybe you should just stop. Then, there was a melody. A soft tune that had waited for a quiet moment. You’ve got a friend in me. 

     The joyful piano contrasted that of your own despair. You lifted your head. Had he heard? Did he know? You swiped at your eyes as the tune grew louder. 

      You got troubles, and I got 'em too. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you. We stick together and we see it through. 'Cause you've got a friend in me. You've got a friend in me. The melody swept you up and carried you away. 

       You could breathe again. 

       The TV was turned up loud, blaring the message that had you sitting on the couch this Christmas instead of with your parents. 

“A large avalanche occurred late last night, blocking a major roadway from Seoul to Busan. Officials say no one was injured in this disaster, however this will prevent hundreds of people from returning home this Christmas.” The reporter said.

       You watched the screen, mind blank and eyes open. The screen itself was blurred to your vision and you were currently pushing away the harsh reality that threw a wrench in the happiest day of the year for you. You had no one. Still, in your misery, you blinked and stood. You had to do the one thing you knew how to do; write. 

      So you wrote. You wrote well into the afternoon. You wrote until your fingers cramped and your stomach growled with hunger. You wrote until you could hear Yoongi slamming his apartment door at the end of the day. 

     Your misery was on display on this blank white page. Wasn’t this supposed to be a good day? You bit your lip and looked to the far wall. Yoongi was silent. No piano music was heard. 

       In a split second decision, before your inspiration vanished and your mind became numb from writing all day, you jotted a few words down onto a sticky note. You surveyed the yellow paper. It was such a small square, but the words on it meant something. It was weird how words can mean so much. 

       You left your apartment, stretching out your back which had been hunched over your computer. You swallowed thickly and stuck the note down on the ground. You knocked and waited. No response. 

      You sighed and left, opening your door and slamming it shut behind you. You felt angry tears pricking at your eyes. It was stupid, trying to understand your handsome neighbor, trying to connect to such an obviously closed off person. 

       The sound of his door opening softly and closing made you stop. You checked the time. You had three hours to midnight, three hours to Christmas. 

       Yoongi hesitated, staring down at the little note. Have a Merry Christmas :) - Y/N

       He bent down and picked it up, the note reminding him of the first note last year. Of course he noticed the notes everyday, of course he felt grateful, happy that someone cared. It had been a long time since that happened. He flipped over the note. Nothing on the backside, yet the simple words seemed to taunt him. 

        The notes had made him feel...funny inside. Yoongi wasn’t all too great at figuring out what was going on in his head, he just plowed through life as fast as possible. He spent his time lost in work, piano, or sleeping.

       Your notes felt like a time when he could calm down and stop for a bit. How are you? I hope your day was good. Little things that made the biggest of impacts on his world. 

       He needed to do something. The blonde, now mint haired, couldn’t understand how he felt about you. All he knew was that he very desperately wanted to make you happy. He had gone radio silent for a while, unsure of what to do when he discovered your note; I like you. What was he supposed to do with that information? 

Maybe you like her back? His conscience said. 

        He thought of the crumpled notes in his desk, the replies never sent. He knew what he needed to do next. 

        30 minutes to midnight. You were sprawled on your bed like you were making a snow angel. A soft rapping on your door made you sit up. You glanced at the time and then you stood. You made your way to your closet in an attempt to throw on something other than your pajamas.

        In the end, you just chose leggings and a random christmas sweater in your half packed bag. Looking at the open bag made you frown and your mood dampened. The knocking sounded again. 

“Coming!” You shouted, pulling on socks and walking to your door. 

        Upon opening the heavy wood, you saw no one. Then, on the ground, was a sticky note.

  Have a merry Christmas :) - Yoongi. 

        You picked up the note, heart thumping wildly. You turned to look at his door. It creaked open slightly and All I Want For Christmas is You began its lilting melody. 

       You folded the paper up and stepped towards his door. You gripped the note tightly, hope blooming in your chest. He sees you. The little voice in your head pushed you to continue you into the apartment. 

“Yoongi?” You called. The piano continued playing. Your heart thudded in your ears and you glanced down the short hall. 

        A board was propped up at the end, illuminated by hazy yellow Christmas lights. You stepped quietly and quickly towards it. You noted the similar layouts of your apartments.

       It was like all the pieces of an apartment (a hallway, a room, a bathroom, etc) but in a different order with the same dimensions. As you walked closer to the board, you could finally make out what was on it. Your breath caught in your throat. 

       Notes. Little sticky notes were pressed all over the board. You leaned closer and the familiar scrawl of your handwriting came into focus. All of your notes. Every. Single. Note. You had ever sent him, was on this board. 

        You felt tears spring to your eyes. He had kept them. You managed to hold back the flood as you read over each note with fascination, because beside every note, was another note in Yoongi’s handwriting. 

How are you? I’m okay, how are you?

Did you eat today? Yes, there’s no need to worry. 

        They were in various conditions. Notes, you realized, that he had intended to respond to you with. Each one was crumpled slightly, as if he’d thrown them out and then decided against it. 

        A bag of dried squid sat next to a bag of Kyoho Jelly. You smiled a little, remembering your gesture of goodwill. In the very middle, however, you caught the note you were sure he had thrown away. 

I like you. I like you too. 

       Time froze. The tears were down your cheeks in an instant, the overwhelming emotions flooding you. The note’s words played over in your brain, like his soft breath in your ear.

       I like you. I like you too. The music came to a stop and you were pulled from your thoughts, twisting around to face the mint haired man. His eyes were soft, a gummy smile on his face. 

“You didn’t think I would let you spend Christmas alone after all of this, hm?” He teased. 

       You let out a little chuckle and walked towards him. He stood from his piano and met you in the middle of the room. He took your hands in his and squeezed softly. 

“Thank you, Yoongi.”

“No, I should thank you.” He glanced at the board of notes. “You didn’t need to do all of this.” 

“It was just a silly infatuation.”

“There’s nothing silly about it, Y/N.” He pulled you closer ever so slightly. Then he looked up pointedly and you followed his line of sight. Mistletoe. 

      Without a second thought, without a doubt, which was a surprise since you had many, you tilted your head and met his lips with yours.

       He pressed into you, wrapping an arm around your waist and moving his lips in time to yours. Yoongi had an aloof and cold demeanor oftentimes, but he found he was only ever warm when he was with you. 

       You pulled away, breathing a little harder than before. His cheeks were tinged pink and yours were as well. You were flustered, captivated by his chocolate eyes. The clock on the wall chimed midnight. 

“Merry Christmas, Yoongi.” You breathed. 

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” Then he leaned in once more and gave you a soft kiss on the lips. 

[buckyswheezes]

Angel's Lies (Pt. 1)

Premise:

“Thank you.”

“Thank you?” The man raised a brow. “I’ve known you for three years and this if the first time you thanked me. Your boyfriend must be teaching your manners.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Yeah, James Barnes? He hasn't broken up with you yet, has he?”

There's only one reason why you decided to go to New York and that's to meet your long-lost twin sister, Sarah. But because of an accident that caused her death, you had to take your twin’s place -including her place in James Buchanan Barnes’ life.

“Sarah,” A voice spoke behind you.

You wanted to tell him that you weren’t your sister when he beat you into speaking again.

“Your father is occupied with work right now. I have strict orders that he is not to be disturbed.

You couldn’t help but wonder how you’ll be a shadow of your sister during your brief stay here in New York. But that doesn’t matter much since you’ll also be leaving in a few days.

“How much do you need?” The man -he must be your father’s secretary- asked dryly as if it was something that normally happened.

“I really need to talk to him.” You replied in your slightly accented English.

The man audibly sighed. “Very well, I know how impatient you are.”

You watched as he trudged his way towards the glass door on the left before disappearing inside. You’re currently at a law firm in New York, not because you need legal assistance or anything of that sort, but because this is where your biological father worked.

And this is the first time you’re going to meet him.

You’re nervous. You’ve been fiddling with your sweaty palms since you arrived.

The door opened once more, and the man from earlier beckoned you to come. “You may come in.”

You stood up and approached him, a small smile on your face. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?” He raised a brow. “I’ve known you for three years, and this is the first time you thanked me. Your boyfriend must be teaching your manners.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Yeah, James Barnes?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words got stuck in your throat when a man appeared behind him. His face was pale, and his eyes were wide. He looked as if he had just seen a ghost.

The secretary subtly observed Sarah after seeing her father’s expression. He had never known Sarah to be so well-mannered and reserved. In his opinion, Sarah’s very beautiful -her angelic face made her look innocent and youthful- but today, she looked extra dazzling. He can’t help but feel that something’s not right.

“Sarah…” The elderly man in a crisp suit muttered.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you entered his office that you barely heard the door close behind you. Your father stepped closer to you.

“You might be thinking-”

“You’re not Sarah.”

You don’t know what to feel at having been recognized by your father. For all you know, this was your first encounter with him. “Did my step-father talk to you?”

“No, no. The last time we talked was three years ago when your mother died.” Attorney Franklin Nelson’s face fell. His hand came up, and he briefly massaged his forehead.

“Mom told me that I… I have a sister.” You couldn’t bring yourself to call the man in front of you father. “How did you know I’m not.. her?”

“I was about to leave before you came. A relative of Sarah’s friend called, they -they were in an accident.” He let out a loud and long exhale.

“They’re at a hospital in South Carolina.”

You didn’t know why; you haven’t met her before, but panic gripped your heart. “Is she okay?” You asked.

Your question was met with silence.

“She.. is she dead?” Your voice trembled as your hair stood on ends.

“That’s what they told me, I didn’t want to believe them, and when I saw you earlier, I thought that the caller was just…” You know that your father is trying his best to not break down in front of you. “But you don’t take those kinds of things lightly. And even though the two of you look so much like each other, you still look different.”

“I want to go with you; I’d like to see her.”

He stepped closer to you and reached for your hands. His warm touch unknowingly comforted your troubled heart. He was still your father, after all.

“I understand, I know how much you want to see your sister, but I can’t let you. I don’t want your first and last sight of her to be that way. I’m sorry, I cannot take you with me.” He pleaded. “But there is one thing I would like to ask you to do.”

It surprised you how quickly you relented. “What do you want me to do?”

“I’m worried about mama, your grandmother.”

“Do you want me to tell her? I also want to meet her.”

Your father shook his head. “No, this news might kill her in her condition now, and I cannot survive another loss in the family.” He took a deep breath before speaking again, his eyes boring into yours. “I want you to go home and pretend to be Sarah.”

————————

A woman dressed in slacks and a button-up shirt entered the office. Earlier, your father called someone named Karen on the phone. She was your grandmother’s executive assistant back in the day when the now old woman ran her publishing company. Karen remained in your grandmother’s employ after she retired and is now in charge of the old woman’s personal engagements.

The three of you knew of your father’s plan -and just like you, Karen was against it. However, you didn’t have any other choice, so after the short introduction, she accompanied you to the hotel you stayed at to collect your things.

“Ms.Karen-”

“Just Karen.” She cut you off. “Sarah isn’t known to be polite. ”

Your mind reeled back to the secretary’s remark earlier when you thanked him, then it clicked. He was surprised by your manners - something your twin didn’t have- apparently.

“And you have to get used to people calling you Sarah.”

You sighed. “You’re right… K-Karen.”

As you moved about the suite, Karen’s lack of reaction regarding your sister’s death piqued your interest. You didn’t hesitate to ask why.

“I’m used to Sarah’s absence and occasional indifference when she’s around. I also want to help you for your grandmother’s sake; I can’t let my emotions get the better of me.”

“Sorry, I was just curious.”

She shook her head and flashed you a small smile -a first. “No worries.”

She moved to help you zip your baggage close. “By the way, your cousins might visit anytime soon, and I have to warn you, they’re not on good terms with your sister. So, if you don’t know anyone, just don’t speak to them; that’s normally how Sarah is.”

You held back the urge to roll your eyes. So your twin sister is known to be unsociable and taciturn -a stark contrast to you. This will be a little challenging for you because you cannot change your nature overnight.

As you waited for the family driver outside the hotel, you faced Karen.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Ms. Karen .” You slightly bowed your head. “I want to thank you in advance for helping me with this.”

She looked taken aback at your actions, but she finally flashed you a genuine smile when she regained herself. “You’re welcome, y/n. I wish we could’ve met in better circumstances.”

The car ride towards your new home -temporarily- was silent, not by choice. Your nerves are eating you up, and you couldn’t hold the conversation that Karen was trying to initiate. When you arrived at the house -which was big, bigger than you expected it to be - she led you towards the third room on the first floor. It was your sister’s room.

There’s a queen-sized bed pushed against the wall flanked between nightstands with lamps on it and a couple of framed photos. You strode towards the bed and sat before grabbing one of the pictures. It was a picture of your twin sister.

The heaviness in your heart resurfaced as you grazed your fingers on the smooth surface. If only you’d come sooner.

“Sarah, do you want to see your grandmother?” Karen’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You glanced at her; she was standing by the door. You nodded silently and placed the picture back on the nightstand before following her out.

You knocked on the door.

“Come in.” You heard a faint voice from the other side. You twisted the knob, the pounding of your heart getting louder as you pushed the door open.

“Grandma,” you greeted tentatively. With slow steps, you made your way across the room to where the old woman is sitting. She welcomed you with a kiss on your forehead.

You bit back the tears that formed in your eyes at the gesture.

“When did you arrive? I thought you’ll be away until Sunday?” She asked, the book on her lap now duly ignored as she shifted her attention to you.

“I wasn’t really enjoying the… um, trip.” You replied with a trembling smile. You decided to sit on the edge of the bed to prevent yourself from falling to your knees.

“Or maybe, you’re just missing Bucky?” She said, catching the playful tone in her voice.

“Bucky?”

She chuckled. “Don’t tell me you already forgot your boyfriend?”

Your throat went dry. Karen didn’t tell you anything about this Bucky -even the secretary mentioned something about him earlier.

“Sarah?” Your grandmother fixed her spectacles.

You gulped. “Yes… Grandma?” You still aren’t used to being called by your sister’s name.

“Did you and Bucky fight?”

You finally lifted your gaze to stare at her; if you can’t do your best in pretending now, then your father’s plan will go to waste. You didn’t want to disappoint him; in this one favor, he asked of you.

“We’re too old to fight.” You replied.

Your grandmother shifted her attention back to the book; you silently examined her. Despite the wrinkles and lines on her face, there was remarkable likeness to your father. You’re overjoyed to finally meet your family, but at the same time, it saddened you; they don’t know you for who you really are.

Bucky.

A faceless name appeared in your mind. You need to meet this man and have a talk. You admit to yourself that you’ve finally accepted this task of pretending to be your sister, but there’s a limitation.

—-

You once offered to read the book to your grandmother, but she refused, saying she knows how much you hated to read -again, a stark contrast to you since your room in Bucharest could be mistaken as a library.

Every day, your differences are revealing themselves.

There was a time when your grandmother asked why you weren’t swimming in the pool anymore. It turns out that Sarah was a swimmer (she even won a swimming contest in high school) while you prefer to just sit by the edge and let your feet dangle in the water.

Then she asked you why you weren’t going out every night anymore, your excuse was your friends weren’t in town.

You asked Karen about Sarah’s hobbies and other information that might be useful in pretending to be your sister. According to her, Sarah used to be a legal researcher in their father’s team but quit. Your father hoped that Sarah would also take up law, but your twin wasn’t too keen on the idea. She was still exploring her options for her career, Karen said when you asked what your twin did for a living.

In Bucharest, you are a librarian at Bucharest Metropolitan Library. You applied for a vacation leave for your supposedly- short trip here in New York, but you’re sure that you’ll soon lose your job in your home country if you continue to stay here.

Part 2

[victoria-daydreams]

Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Ten: Old Wounds

AN: I really don’t know what to say here, other than enjoy!

Word Count: 4.3k

Trigger Warnings: unhealthy coping mechanisms?

Taglist: @azayamari

Chapter Eleven: Bottled Up

"Claudia," Erik called. "I'm bored,"

We were sitting in Central Park where I sat on a bench enjoying the fall season of New York. The sound of children playing freely with their parents was all around me, and I couldn't help but to wish that was the childhood I had. So carefree, so normal.

"And what does that have to do with me?" I asked, too immersed in my reading to look up.

"I'd figured that maybe you would entertain me," Erik suggested.

I rolled my eyes and chuckled before I continued my reading, switching from both hands holding the novel to my left hand holding it open as I bit the nail of my right thumb.

"If you wanted entertainment, you should have stayed with Moira and Charles to watch the musicians playing," I reminded dryly, finally looking up from my book and turning my head to follow the sound violins being played beautifully.

They played Bach and Handel, then they moved to Mozart, and then they played some pieces that I was unable to identify, possibly compositions of their own. Their fingers moved as if they were dancing over the necks of the violins, the notes filled the air. The sound of high pitched laughter broke the daze I had gone into and my eyes darted to the source of it. A smile graced my lips as I watched a group of children playing tag with each other.

Erik followed my gaze, "How you ever thought about it?" he asked, looking over at me.

"Thought about what?" I asked back, turning my head to him.

"Having children of your own?"

"Maybe," I answered, slightly shrugging my shoulders. "If the world wasn't so cruel," I continued, sighing heavily. "I wouldn't want to raise my child in an environment that hates them the moment they're born," I added, shaking my head. "What about you? Do you want children?" I questioned, closing my copy of The Great Gatsby.

"I do," Erik answered, and I raised my eyebrows in shock.

"Boy or girl?" I asked again, turning my body to face him.

"Girl,"

"Aww, who knew that someone like Erik Lehnsherr would want a little baby girl," I teased, a smile on my face and Erik just rolled his eyes at me. "She'll be in good hands and well taken care of, she'll have a better childhood than the both of us," I proposed, nodding my head with a grin.

We sat in silence for a moment, Erik, I could feel him watching me, but I was too preoccupied by staring off into space, chewing on my bottom lip. Thinking of what could have been with my own family.

"Bombing aside," Erik began pulling me back to reality. "Did you have a happy childhood?" he asked, draping his arm over the back of the park bench, his body now facing my own.

"Bombing aside," I repeated, cocking my head to the side. "I would say I had a decent childhood," I corrected. "Until I was seven," I remembered, my hand closing and forming a fist.

"What happened when you were seven?"

"I found out that I was different from most kids," I stated quietly, a tight-lipped smile appearing on my face.

A high pitched squeal escaped from my mouth as I kicked the ball back to my dad before I ran around our small backyard the grass tickling my feet. A wide smile on my face as my bare feet hit the cool green surface, my toes digging into the earth. A bright yellow spot caught my eye, surrounded by a sea of green grass. I forced myself to slow down and stopped at the yellow dot, bending down I realized it was a dandelion. My grin grew wider and I snatched it from the ground, raising up from the ground I turned to the back porch where my mom and grandma were residing.

"Mama, look!" I yelled, proudly displaying my dandelion.

Mama lifted her head up from the sleeping of bundle of my sister and smiled at me, "That's so pretty, Claudia!" Mama cheered, and I nodded my head vigorously in agreement.

"Claudia watch out!" Daddy shouted.

I turned my head immediately to the sound of his voice and the ball we had been kicking was on a straight path to my face. I let out a shriek and threw my hands out to protect myself. And just like that, it seemed like time froze. I peeked behind my raised arms and gasped, the ball hadn't hit me, instead the ball was suspended in midair surrounded in a pretty shade of violet. Confused, I lowered my arms and was shocked to see the ball slowly coming closer to the ground as I moved my arms down; I was controlling whatever force held it. I lowered the ball to the ground gently, before releasing the force around the ball.

"Mama, Daddy! Did you see what I did?" I asked excitedly.

No one answered me. It was dead quiet and I swallowed nervously, as I looked at my parents and Grandma. Mama had her hand covering her mouth and her eyes were wide open, filling up with tears. Seconds later Daddy was at my side. Grandma got to her knees, before clasping her hands together and began praying quietly.

"Claudia, what did you do?" Mama asked, in the most frightened tone I had ever heard her use.

"I knew my parents were horrified, even my father, although he never let it show. I mean why wouldn't he be. What I could do...it wasn't exactly normal behavior," I recalled, a mirthless laugh escaping my mouth.

"They didn't disown you, I hope?" Erik asked, a frown appearing on his face.

"Luckily, they didn't. Could you imagine throwing your seven year-old daughter out the house?" I speculated, knitting my eyebrows together. "That would be horrific!" I exclaimed.

"What did your parents do after witnessing your ability? How did they react?" Erik questioned.

"They told me they loved me regardless..." I trailed off.

Daddy knelt down in front of me and grasped my small shoulders, inspecting me closely, "Claudia…sweetheart…Mama and I want you to stay quiet about this. Alright?"

I frowned at what Daddy asked, "But why? It's amazing and so pretty!"

Mama knelt down beside Daddy and gave me a small, sad smile, "Yes, it is. But you have to understand something...sometimes...people get scared of things they don't understand," Mama explained gently.

I tilted my head to the side as I processed what Mama just said, "Why would people be scared?"

"That's hard to explain, honey. Personally...we don't know of anyone that has a...gift...like you do. If you showed others, they may react badly to it and they might hurt you," Mama tried to further explain to me.

I looked down at the ground. I had noticed Mama's hesitation about using the word gift. It made me wonder. "Are you scared of me now?"

At my question, both Mama and Daddy embraced me tightly. "No. No we're not," Daddy said with conviction.

"But you didn't believe them, did you?"

"You know what? I did actually. It was what my Grandma said that made questioned my parents true feelings about my mutation," I admitted.

"What did she say?"

"She told me that one day there will be a cure for me," I spat, recalling my Grandma's words. "I thought that would be the worst thing she would say to me, but oh how wrong I was," I went on, shaking my head.

"I take it you developed your empathic powers soon after," Erik guessed.

I nodded, "Two weeks had barely passed after my telekinetic incident, when I started to get these horrible headaches," I explained, my expression darkening. "That's when I began to pick up on emotions that weren't mine. I had told my parent's that I could feel their emotions as they passed through their minds. Of course, at first, they assumed I was playing around but after proving my talent to them both, they were shaken," I added.

I shook my head again, thinking back to how it had taken my family quite a while to get used to my empathy. To realize that a pain in your chest caused by the anguish that suddenly rose from no where was not your own, but someone else's. It was a violation in a way, and one that made my family hesitant to be near me.

"My grandma turned completely hostile toward me. In an attempt to get rid of me, my grandma suggested that they send me to psych ward because I was having a a mental breakdown," I stated, crinkling my noise in disgust while shaking my head. "God Erik, why did you ruin this beautiful day by making me recall my childhood," I groaned, running hand through my hair. "Now I actually need some entertainment," I mentioned, standing up from the wooden bench and walking away from him.

"Claudia, wait," Erik called, and I could hear his footsteps jogging behind me. "Come on, you know that was never my intention," he reasoned, falling in line with my stride.

Sighing, I looked over at him and nodded my head, "I know," I agreed. "You know I can be over dramatic," I breathed, my lips quirking up into a small smile.

A cool breeze blew through the trees of Central Park, bringing with it a flurry of freshly fallen leaves which stood a stark contrast to flocks of lively birds making their way steadily northward. My eyes scanned my surroundings, people were about the park as always, going about their business as only New Yorkers truly could.

"Erik," I began, sliding my book into my coat pocket. "Do you think I'm going crazy?" I asked randomly, facing him again

He cocked an eyebrow and laughed, "What? No," Erik answered, shaking his head with a smile. "I haven't seen one sign that you're losing your mind," he continued, his smile widening. "A strange question to ask Claudia, I have to say," Erik stated, with a chuckle.

I shrugged, "I have a feeling that Charles thinks I'm going crazy," I theorized, interlocking my fingers together behind my back.

"Don't be ridiculous Claudia," Erik grinned. "What would ever make you think that?" he inquired, letting out a hearty laugh.

"Why else do you think we took this impromptu trip here?" I pointed out, unlinking my fingers and sticking my hand in front of me. "He means wells, but all because I was distant two days ago, he's been like a mother hen," I complained, beginning to fiddle with the amber charm of my necklace. "Always watching me from over my shoulder and monitoring me. I haven't been able to really use my empathic powers because all Charles wants to do is focus on my telekinesis," I finished, a slight scowl appearing on my face.

"Here's a crazy thought, maybe he's just worried about you, Claudia," Erik replied sarcastically. "You have been a lot training these past two days, one would say too hard. You're not eating a lot, I noticed that you're up later than you usually are," he listed, ticking them off with his fingers. "Not to mention your temper has been shorter than usual," Erik remembered.

"I am not up late," I argued, knowing that the dark circles underneath my eyes I hid beneath my makeup showed all of the signs of restless night's sleep. "Nor have I been short of temper lately," I insisted, crossing my arms together.

"You cut your lights off at 11:00 pm on the dot every night. Recently, your lights have been on up until 1:00 am," Erik deadpanned, giving me a knowing look and my brow rose. "Yes, I've noticed that," he added, answering my silent question.

I really couldn't help myself from asking, "Oh, so you notice things about me?" I questioned grinning. "Because usually I have to tell you when you should look for something," I added, still grinning.

Erik rolled his eyes and laughed, "I notice things about everyone," he replied, and then looked at me slyly. "But I maybe paying some...extra attention to you,"

We proceeded down the walkway not sure where I wanted to go, but I wanted to be somewhere. I came across one of the many fountains in Central Park and lowered my hand into the water and ran the tips of my fingers over it. A thought crossed my mind and I lifted my hand, flicking water at Erik and drew back from the onslaught of the water droplets.

"You're such a child," Erik commented, his lips curving into a smile as he went to grab for my hand which I easily spun away from.

"I try to be," I smiled back.

I moved off the cement path and walked onto the seemingly endless lawn of the park. I made my way further onto the grass until we come near a thick grove of oak trees interspersed with some hearty pines. There were people spread out all over the field of all sorts, around the clearing's edges parents watched their children idly. Women read magazines or gossiped with one another while men ate their lunches or smoked amongst the trees, college students were laid on picnic blankets or throwing a football around.

Sticking my hand out I began to trace the rough bark of the tree next to me, beginning to walk in a circle. I closed my eyes and let my hand guide me around the tree, circling the tree twice in blissful content.

"May I ask what you're doing?" Erik asked, stopping me in my tracks and I opened my eyes, he was standing next to me, an amused expression painted on his face.

I glanced at him and smirked, "Whatever I want I suppose," I answered, continuing on my path around the tree.

Erik began to circle the tree as well only he went the opposite way, "And what is it that you want Miss Walker?" he inquired.

"I'm in need of some entertainment, just like you," I answered, turning around to meet Erik in front of the tree. He abruptly stopped once he saw me, our fingers brushed together momentarily before I leaned my back against the tree, looking at him with a mischievous grin.

"What are you about to do?"

"That man can't remember if it's his wife's birthday or their anniversary," I informed, still grinning.

I pointed to a bald middle-aged man who walked to the right of us with a confused, thoughtful look on his face.

Erik continued to look at me confused, "What?"

I slid my hands into my coat pockets jut as another gust of the autumn breeze swept past me, causing me to shiver and sigh contentedly as it ruffled my dark hair. I closed my eyes for a split second before opening them.

"That woman, over there? Found out that her boyfriend was cheating on her. Nice right hook, that one," I commented smirking, before shifting gaze away from the woman. "And that man..." I trailed off, as he happened to look back to where we were.

He was a tall, young man probably the same age I was, his blond hair was tousled most likely from the breeze which framed his blue eyes along with his square jaw. He shot me a wonky grin and I just smirked and wiggled my fingers giving him a small wave as I stared into his eyes, scrapping what I had originally planned to do and formulating a new way to have some fun.

"What are you doing?" Erik murmured from beside me.

"Just watch,"

Suddenly, the football he had been previously throwing came sailing back towards him and striking him on the back of the head. The man flinched and let out a groan of pain, rubbing the back of his head.

"Hey man, what the hell!" he exclaimed. His friend glanced over at me, seeing that I'm the reason why the blond-haired man didn't see the football coming. "Are you blind? Why didn't you hold the ball?" he asked angrily, storming over to his friend.

"Relax Aaron," the friend snickered. "Stop ogling at a girl and pay attention next time," he suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

"You've got a problem, Luke?" Aaron asked, getting up in his friend's face.

"No, I think you have a problem," Luke said, shoving Aaron away from him.

I turned my head to Erik, "Are you entertained?" I asked grinning proudly, and Erik let out a short laugh.

I suddenly became aware of another presence near me and my head turned and gazed up at Charles.

"There you two are, everyone was wondering where you had gone off to," Charles greeted, a relieved smile on his face. "What are you two doing?" he asked curiously, his eyes bouncing between Erik and I.

"Oh, we're just watching a bit of entertainment," I answered, a smirk on my face. "Right Erik?" I asked, glancing up at him.

"That would be correct," Erik confirmed.

Charles looked over at me and followed my gaze, watching the shoving match between the two men.

"Oh my God, Claudia please don't tell me this is your doing?" Charles questioned, his eyes back on me now.

I turned my head to Charles, his was mouth set in a firm grimace, "What can I say? We were bored," I explained nonchalantly, with a shrug.

"That's enough Claudia, you've had your fun now," Charles declared.

"Hold on Charles, I think she's onto something," Erik disagreed, raising his index finger up. "No one is even paying attention to them," Erik pointed out.

"I'll never not be amazed with my powers," I remarked, looking around at people going about their day not noticing the fight happening in front of their eyes. "A little inducement of calmness works wonders," I mused, folding my arms together.

Within a blink of the eye, Aaron swung his fist out and it connected with Luke's face, sending him to the ground.

"Hell of a right hook," I observed, as Aaron got on top of Luke to continue his pummeling.

"Claudia!"

"You know Erik, I once made a man punch himself," I informed, glancing over at him. "One night I had this drunk customer screaming in my face, and I grew angry enough that I imagined punching him, and he somehow punched himself," I recounted, thinking back to my diner job as a teenager.

"Impressive," Erik chuckled.

"You should see what happens when I sing, with my power," I boasted, walking ahead a little bit to get a closer look at the two men on the ground.

I went to take another step forward, but hand held me back, keeping a tight hold onto my wrist. I looked back to see who the culprit was just as the wind gently ruffled my hair as I met the stern stare of a dreamy blue-eyed familiar face.

"Claudia, stop it," Charles demanded, his voice dropping an octave.

Sighing, I finally gave in, "Fine," I agreed, turning my head back to the men and restored their peaceful state of mind.

Charles glanced at Erik and I for a moment, and we all share a look.

"Let's go," Charles ordered.

~~~x~~~

"Hey, do you know what's wrong with Charles?" Raven asked, as she pushed the barbell up and back onto the rack. "He's been upset ever since we came back from the park," she commented, maneuvering her way from under the bar and sitting up.

I paused mid crunch and relaxed, looking between my legs to look at Raven, "Yes," I answered, sitting up and hugging my knees. "I'm the reason he's upset," I confessed, and Raven's eyes widened. "I did something that made Charles quite upset," I explained, pushing away the fly-away hairs escaping my bun.

Raven crossed her arms and wandered over to me, "Claudia Walker making Charles Xavier mad, I never thought that I'd see the day," Raven quipped, before sticking her hand out to help me up.

"Neither did I," I stated, shaking my head.

"I wouldn't worry, Charles can't stay mad at you. He likes you too much," Raven reminded with a giggle, as I grabbed her hand and she pulled me up.

The sudden motion made me feel dizzy, I slowly walked over to the towel basket and plucked one out, "I don't know Raven, he seemed pretty upset," I doubted, dabbing the cloth against my face and closed my eyes trying to stabilize myself.

"What did you do?" she asked curiously.

Opening my eyes as my vision had stopped spinning, I removed the towel from my face, "I made these two men fight for entertainment," I explained, and Raven’s brows raised. "Erik and I wanted entertainment, we had gotten bored at the park," I continued, beginning to leave the room. "Do you know where I can Charles? I should probably go make things right," I added.

"In the library, most likely. Where else would he be?" Raven joked, and I nodded my head in agreement and laughed before exiting the gym.

I wrapped the towel around my neck and made way down the hall admiring the paintings on the wall as I headed to the library. The door to the library was cracked, slowly pushing it open revealed Charles standing in front of the window. I walked quietly into the room but he didn't turn around, he simply waited for whoever had entered to speak first. Out of the corner of Charles' eye he saw me move to stand beside him, still not saying a word.

At last, I broke the silence, "It's clear that you're upset with me," I began, searching his face for a reaction, but there wasn't one.

"How about disappointed?" he corrected, still looking out the window. I turned to look at him again and I was surprised to find his face free of anger, his face was calm. "You could have seriously injured those men Claudia. Worst, you could have killed them," Charles stated grimly, staring at me.

Backing away from where Charles stood, I sat down on top of the sofa, "Oh, come on, I wouldn't have let it get to that point," I answered, crossing my arms and returning Charles' stare.

He turned all the way around to face me, "It should have never happened in the first place!" Charles argued, slightly raising his voice. "Why on God's green earth would make those men fight?" he questioned, throwing his hands up.

"For fun, I suppose," I answered, with a slight shrug.

Charles scoffed, "That's your definition of fun? he asked incredulously.

"Fun is interpreted differently from person to person," I countered.

"No, I don't believe that's the whole story. I have never seen use your powers so irresponsibly. What is going on with you?" Charles asked again, walking towards me.

I pushed off the sofa, "You have been mother henning me for two days straight and I'm at my wits end here! I needed a release!" I snapped, spreading my arms out. "I'm not myself for one day, and for two days you have constantly been over my shoulder like I'm some fragile-" I continued pointing my finger, until another wave of dizziness me, this time stronger than before.

I felt myself falling as my vision slightly darkened, but a pair of arms caught me before I fell to the floor.

"Hey, I got you, I got you," Charles repeated softly, my head leaning against his chest. He lowered us to the ground slowly, "I'm going to pick you up, alright," he announced, before hooking his arms underneath my legs and slowly lifting me up. He walked over to the front of the sofa and placed me down onto the plush cushions. "Good thing I've been a mother hen, right?" Charles asked smiling, his hand brushing away a stray lock of hair from my face.

"I guess it paid off in the end," I conceded, smiling weakly as Charles sat on the edge of the sofa.

He placed the back of his hand against my forehead and frowned, "Claudia, you're burning up," he noted, removing his hand. "I knew you were pushing yourself too hard these past two days," he continued, placing each of his hands down on the cushions on either side of my waist. "Why didn't you tell me, love?" Charles asked quietly.

He was tense, his hands were clenched into fist by my side, I lifted my arm and soothingly rubbed his arm and felt the muscles in his arm slowly release some of their tension. His blue eyes met mine and he relaxed a little more.

"I thought I could push through it, I've done it before," I explained, giving him a small smile in an attempt to make him feel more at ease. "I really didn't want you to start smothering me anymore," I added, a short laugh erupting from me.

Charles shook his head gazing down at me with worried eyes, "Yes, and look where it's gotten you right now," he remarked, shaking his head once more. "You are so guarded at times Claudia, you've got to learn that not everyone wants to hurt you. I want to help you, I truly do. But I can't do anything unless you can accept that," Charles stated.

I was shocked by his bluntness and stared at him in shock, being quiet for several moments and looking away. When I didn't answer, Charles reached for my hand and held my hand in his.

"Do you trust me Claudia?" Charles asked softly.

It was such a simple question, yet I knew it meant a lot more to Charles...and myself. I stared up at him saw the genuine concern written across his features, and knew that what he told me was true.

"You're the first person I have trusted in years, Charles," I admitted softly.

The telepath gave me the most adorable, beautiful grin of relief, "I'm honored," Charles answered, and lifted my hand to his lips and kissed the palm of it. The simple gesture made my stomach flip. "Let's get you some rest, yeah?" he suggested, nodding his head toward the door.

Chapter Twelve: What Are These Feelings?

[supernatural-jackles]

The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 13

Title: The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 13

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3,834

Warnings: High Stress Levels, Mentions of the readers shitty Mom, FLUFF, All around cuteness! 

Summary: Driving down the road, going well over the speed limit. You come across a man walking in the opposite direction with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. His head cast down as he walked. Your gut instinct is telling you to check on this man, no matter what your parents told you growing up. Little did you know just how much this would change your life.

The Man on the Side of the Road - Masterlist

A/N: Three parts left after this one! I hope y’all enjoy this part! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Happy Reading!! 

Your head was pounding. Your vision was starting to blur and everything looked the same. You felt like you had been awake for forty eight hours. Your stomach was in knots, your chest was tight. You were beyond exhausted.

 Finals were going to be the absolute death of you.

 You buried your face in your hands, trying your hardest to clear your eyes and make them see one thing instead of eight. You had been at this for hours and nothing was sticking. You needed to pass this final. It was the most important one and you needed a seventy five in order to advance to the class you were taking next semester. You needed to learn the next twenty definitions and the process of seven more things and you literally had no idea how you were going to pull this off.

 “Knock knock,” Dean called out from behind your door. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

 “Come in,” you called out, trying your hardest to sound okay. Your bedroom door opened and Dean walked in. He was wearing his new pyjama pants that Sam had sent him as an early Christmas present. They had presents scattered all over them, and quite frankly they looked cute on him.

 “Hey you,” he greeted you. “Still studying?”

 “More like dying,” you sighed.

 “Nothing’s sticking huh?” he frowned, taking a seat at the end of your bed, giving you a bit of space.

 “Nope,” you shook your head. “I am not going to pass this final at this rate. I’m stressed out, exhausted and all I want to do is sleep for ten years.”

 “Don’t say that, sweetheart. You just need a break,” he suggested. “Why don’t we go make some dinner and pie. I did the groceries so we’ve got some food in the house. I can make you one of my dad’s recipes and after we can make your grandma’s homemade apple pie recipe.”

 “What are we going to make for dinner?” you smiled. “Mac and cheese? Winchester surprise?”

 “I was thinking I could make your favourite chicken with some mac and cheese,” he said with a smirk.

 “You know I can’t resist that,” you squinted at him.

 “I know. That’s why I’m making it. You gotta come out of this room and you’ve gotta eat something that’s not dried cereal or leftover beef jerky from our road trip nearly two months ago.”

 “You’re making me sound like I have a problem,” you giggled.

  “You do. It’s called being overworked,” he chuckled. “Kitchen. Now. Then I need you to watch a short movie with me. Give yourself a break. After that, we can kiss a little and I will help you study for however long tonight,” he declared proudly, looking at you with a sweet smile

 “Okay. We’ll go with your plan, chief,” you said with a weak smile. “You win this time. You had me at kissing you.”

 “Let’s go.”

 The second you got to the kitchen, you felt guilty for not having your books in front of you. The worry of not passing this final was really starting to get to you. You knew Dean was right; that you needed a study break because nothing was going to stick if you kept trying to cram it in. He offered to help you later, and you prayed to god that it would stick in better.

 Dean had the pasta noodles on, and the chicken already in the oven, like he was planning this all along. All that was left was to grate the cheese, and he was already halfway done. You just got to sit there, and watch him do what he did best.

 “When I was little,” you started, glancing up at Dean, “my mom tried to teach me how to bake. Red velvet cookies were what I wanted to make because I saw a picture in a recipe book one day. So she found one that would work and picked out an afternoon to do so. I thought it was going to be fun. You know, spending time with my mom, just the two of us. But I accidentally dropped an egg on the floor, and of course it broke. My mom was furious with me and sent me to my room for destroying her good kitchen floor. All because the egg slipped out of my hand and fell.”

 “That is terrible,” Dean frowned. “Accidents happen all the time.”

 “It was,” you nodded. “She came into my room hours later with a single cookie for me to eat. It was the first time I looked at something and felt like I didn’t deserve it.”

 “Why are you telling me this?” He asked, turning to face you.

 “Because I feel like I don’t deserve you sometimes. Especially on days like today when I’m cranky as hell, and not so fun to be around. You’re here making sure I eat and don’t overwork myself, and I don’t deserve to have someone as great as you in my life.”

 “Yeah you do,” he argued with a smile playing on his lips. “You deserve to have someone looking out for you, Y/N. You do the same for me.”

 “Well, I’m glad I’ve got you,” you smiled.

 “Likewise,” he smiled softly. “When I was growing up, my dad was the one who taught me how to cook. He told me it was a valuable life skill that I would need one day. I was always taught that it wasn’t just a woman’s job to cook for the family. I don’t remember a whole lot of my parents together. I was four when she died. But what I do remember is that they were happy together, and I wanted to have that one day.”

 “Do you still want that?” you asked him.

 “Yeah,” he nodded. “I’ve got you. I know my parents loved each other. Even if I remember them arguing, and such. I asked my dad about her from time to time, and he always talked about her with that same look on his face that he had when he saw her. Their love was something real. That’s what I want.”

 “The real thing,” you teased. “Growing up, my dad was my best friend. He had this big office in our house that no one was allowed in but me. He had a chair in there for me, and a computer there for me to do work at one end of his desk. It was our space that my mom couldn’t enter. It was a safe place for me. His Sunday’s were spent playing golf, away from my mom. Those were supposed to be the days I spent with her but she never wanted to. She had her girlfriends over for drinks and I’d be shoved into my bedroom, away from everyone and everything. My parents never spent any time together when I was growing up. My dad travelled during the week for work. I spent Saturdays with him. The more I think about it now, I wonder why they waited until I was twelve to get divorced. They were never happy together.”

 “That’s not fair to you,” he commented.

 “No it’s not. It’s like some sort of arrangement for them, I think,” you agreed. “You want what your parents had, and I want anything but what my parents have. How strange is that?”

 “Have you ever gotten along with your mom?” Dean questioned as he poured the cheese into the noodles. “I know Ketch said to you at the diner that night that your mom loved him more than she did you. Is that true?”

 “Unfortunately yes,” you shrugged. “And for the longest time, that was so hard for me. I mean, my mom loved my boyfriend more than she loved me, and I was her daughter. God, my mom was more excited when she found out I was going out with Ketch than I was. Sure, his family is the richest, and their house is a million times bigger than this. Ketch literally doesn’t need a college degree for crying out loud. It’s not like we ever struggled with money. I mean my dad still makes amazing money and he bought this house for me so I wouldn’t have to stay with my mom while I went to school.”

 “He’s got connections to everything and your mom liked that huh?”

 “It made her look good. It was good for the parties and for all the people at the country clubs. It’s like he’s fucking royalty or something,” you scoffed. “My mom didn’t want me to go to college at first, actually. That’s one of the reasons why I’m so late in graduating. I fought hard to go, and she would only let me go as far as here. My dad fought for me. He knew I wanted my own life. My mom was determined. A girl like me shouldn’t have to work hard for one. The job at the hospital was hard enough work. At one point, she even told me I wasn’t smart enough to get in, which was untrue. It’s just not me. I can’t just sit somewhere and have everything done for me. I’ve never been that way, even if my mom tried to raise me that way. It wasn’t right. I think she thought that Ketch was going to turn me into someone that she’d approve of. A housewife. Someone like her.”

 “I could never see you sitting back and doing nothing,” he chuckled. “You work harder than a lot of people.”

 “Thanks, Dean,” you grinned. “I’m at the point where I’m trying not to care about her. I don’t answer my mom’s texts anymore. Her calls are ignored. I’m done dealing with it all. All it ever does is upset me and I’m tired of putting myself in that position. I gotta move past it all.”

 “Good for you, sweetheart,” he nudged your shoulder. “You graduate in June right?”

 “Maybe! If I pass this final and all my classes next semester, then yes,” you let out a dry laugh.

 “You will,” he reassured you. “You’ll get home tomorrow feeling relieved that it’s over with and that you aced it. I’ll pick up some pizza and beer on the way home, and we’ll celebrate.”

 “And I can pick the movie?” you asked with a wide smile.

 “‘Course you can,” he winked.

 You and Dean ate dinner with a constant flow of conversation. For the first time all day, you felt relaxed, and you knew that was going to do your brain some good. When you were to go back to studying, there was a good chance you were going to retain more than you could before.

 Dean was the first one to finish, and he instantly started on the dishes. You couldn’t help but watch him as he worked. His muscles flexed beneath his shirt every so often. It had been a whole two months since you had slept with him that night, and the morning after. Your feelings had only grown stronger for him. You were taking it slow, enjoying the ride as you went on. Since you already lived together, you kept the sleepovers until Friday and Saturday nights. You didn’t want to rush this and ruin things.  You wanted to still have that friendship between you. It was the most important thing to you.

 You were slowly but surely moving past the whole, not good enough for him thing. There were still days when you felt like you weren’t good enough for him, and that was normal. Most of the time, he was the one who made you feel like you were. He was always making sure you knew that you were doing good, especially in the moments when you felt like you weren’t. There wasn’t a single doubt in your mind that you weren’t head over heels for him. This had the potential to become what his parents had. This had the potential to be something amazing.

 You got up from the counter, placing your utensils in the sink and your plate on top of his. You reached for the towel, taking the first mug out of the sink, drying it off. Dean gave you a soft smile before returning back to what he was doing. Your heart began to race in your chest.

 You wondered exactly what was going through his mind. If he was thinking about dinner, or anything else in specific. You wondered if he looked at you and thought the same thing you did when you looked at him. If he thought you were beautiful. If he thought he was lucky to have someone like you in his life. It was the little things.  

 There was a part of you that wanted to tell him that you loved him. You knew it wouldn’t be the worst thing to say, especially with how long he had been in your life. But at the same time, you were always the one who expressed how you felt first and that never worked out for you in the end. It was fear this time around. You didn’t want to push it so far only to have it crash and burn in the end. Dean was all you had at this point. You could wait. You could wait a lifetime for him. He was worth it.

 “Pie time?” he chuckled, pulling the apples out of the fridge. A few weeks ago, you had decided to go apple picking one Sunday. He remembered the day you met him that you mentioned something about your grandma’s recipe needing fresh autumn apples. He thought it would be a good date idea for the two of you and it was. It was one of the memories you think about that makes you smile.

 “Pie time,” you nodded.

 You opened up the cupboard, grabbing your book of recipes. Dean was already pulling out everything you needed from the fridge. You stifled your laugh, knowing just how excited he was for this. Quite frankly you were too. He was like a kid when he was excited and you loved that about him.

 He peeled and cut the apples while you made the pie crust. You worked side by side, bumping into one another a few times while you worked. You tried your hardest to focus on the pie in front of you, but when he stood so close, you couldn’t help but look over.

 “You’re cute,” he muttered, taking a slice of apple, bringing it up to his lips.

 “You’re cute,” you smiled, taking a bit of flour before flicking him. The white dust covering part of his shirt and his cheeks.

 “You’re going to pay for that,” he threatened with a laugh, placing his hand in the flour before rubbing your face. “Much better.”

 “Dean!” you shrieked, letting out a laugh. You smirked, inching closer to him, wiping your cheek on his shirt. He gasped, laughing in the process. “Okay, I actually have to finish this if you want to eat this tonight.”

 “Fine,” he grumbled, flicking you once more before getting back to work.

 You managed to get everything ready within half an hour. Dean added a lot of apples into the pie, and extra cinnamon. You smiled when he helped you with the top of the pie, patting it down with you. Your hands brushing against one anothers every so often. He took it when it was done, and put it in the oven for you. You were really looking forward to tasting it after this.

 His hands made their way to your hips, backing you up to the opposite counter until you hit it. He lifted you up quickly, his body settling between your legs before his lips were on yours. His kisses started off slow and soft; chaste. Moving in a perfect sync with yours as his large hands travelled over the length of your back. You melted against him, allowing yourself to enjoy being with him like this. It was really nice to have a boyfriend that wanted to kiss you the way he did on a constant basis.

 “You want to watch a movie, or a few episodes of Dr Sexy? You’re nearly caught up,” he pointed out as he placed a slice of pie on your plate. “Fuck, this pie is amazing.”

 “Dr Sexy!” you stated. “Gotta see if Dr Sexy and Dr Tara get together. I’m glad you like the pie.”

 “I love how into this show you are,” he let out a laugh.

 “This is your fault,” you side eyed him. “I wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for you.”

 “Hey, this is on you too. I had no idea you had a medical kink,” he winked.

 “So do you, Winchester,” you teased. “You and I both know if I dressed as a nurse, you’d have a field day.”

 “There is no denying that,” he shrugged. “You’d make such a hot nurse.”

 Dean pulled it up on the tv as you sat down in your designated spot. Right next to Dean. It was one of your favourite parts of movie nights. He’d always end up playing with your hair while the movie ended, and you soaked up every second of the attention he was giving you.

 “Can I ask you something?” Dean asked about halfway through the episode.

 “You just did,” you turned to face him with a wide smile. “What’s up?”

 “What’s the plan after you graduate?”

 “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure yet,” you answered. “I have lots of options, and I think that’s what matters the most.”

 “Which one sounds the best?” he questioned.

 “Teacher’s college,” you breathed out. “The one my mom would hate the most.”

 “For that reason?”

 “That’s a bonus,” you chuckled. “But I think I could make a good career as a teacher.”

 “My mom was a kindergarten teacher,” he revealed, giving you a soft smile. “I think that would be an amazing career path for you. You know I’ll support you in anything you want to do.”

 “Thank you,” you smiled. “I have to apply at the end of January, so I still have time. But it’s definitely something I’ve thought about for a little while now.”

 “You’re good at helping people. I’ve learned so many things from you,” he added. “You’d make an amazing teacher.”

 The episode finished, and you needed to get back to studying. You couldn’t relax any longer. You needed to get these last few things down before you could go to bed. You flopped down on your bed, opening up your notebook. Dean was in not long after you with two mugs of peppermint tea. You knew that there was nowhere he’d rather be than here with you, making sure you got this material down.

 It was around midnight when you packed it all up and crawled into bed. Your eyes were drooping, and words started to blend together. You studied the best you could and you felt a million times better than you did earlier. Dean helped you get down the last eighteen definitions and you had memorized the processes you needed to. You have this final in the bag.

 Dean left your room to go lock up the house, something he did nightly for you. You flicked your side light off before curling into your pillow. A few moments later, you felt your bed shift, the comforter moving just a little, before the bed dipped next to you. Dean was sleeping next to you tonight.

 “Gonna sleep with you tonight,” he whispered, linking his pinky with yours.

 “Good,” you muttered. “Night handsome.”

 “Night sweetheart,” he mumbled, reaching over to place a kiss to your forehead.

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

 You walked through the front door with a smile playing on your lips. Friday were the best days. The start of the weekend. The best damn part of the week. You kicked your shoes off, heading straight for the kitchen with your bag in hand. You couldn’t wait to start the weekend off right with the man you loved. 

 “I’m home!” you called out.

 “Hey beautiful,” a familiar voice filled your ears. Your smile only grew wider. Your eyes glanced over to the counter where he stood. The sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong, toned forearms that drove you crazy.

 “Hey sexy,” you winked at him. “How was your day?”

 “Great. Bobby gave me a raise today,” he revealed. “He said I had been working really hard the last few months and it’s paying off.”

 “Dean! That’s amazing,” you grinned widely, dropping your bag to the ground. You circled the counter quickly, reaching Dean in an instant. You stood on your tiptoes, your lips crashing to his, kissing him hard as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “I’m so proud of you!”

 “Couldn’t have done it without you,” he smiled, licking his bottom lip. “You’re my rock.”

 “And you’re mine,” you whispered, reaching up to kiss him once more.

 “How was your day, sweetheart?” he asked, tugging you in close to him.

 “Good. No tears today. No parents to call. And it’s Friday,” you chuckled. “Today’s a good day.”

 “How’s our baby girl?” he questioned. His right hand slipped from the small of your back to your growing bump.

 “Why don’t you ask her?”

 Dean kneeled down to your stomach, pressing his lips to the bump. His hand held either side of your stomach. It had to be the best thing you had seen and he did it over and over again. She already had her daddy wrapped around her tiny little finger. She was going to be a daddy’s girl for sure. This was exactly what you wanted.

 “Hey baby girl,” he said softly. “You being good for your mom in there? Not kicking her insides too much?”

 “Not today,” you whispered.

 “I love you, peanut,” he muttered, pressing another kiss to your stomach. “And I love you, sweetheart.”

 “Not as much as we love you,” you smiled.

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

 You shot right up, your eyes opening widely. Your heart was pounding in your chest. You swallowed hard, realizing that it was just a dream and it was the middle of the night. Dean was still fast asleep, facing your direction.

 For a moment, it actually felt real. It actually felt like you and Dean were going to end up together, and you were having a baby together. It actually looked like life was looking good for the two of you. God, the way he kissed your stomach. Ugh, and the way he kissed you. It was everything you wanted and more. It was everything you wanted with the person you loved.

 “You okay?” Dean breathed out, shifting a little. He never even opened his eyes.

 “Yeah,” you whispered.

 “Bad dream?” He asked you, popping one eye open.

 “No. Good dream. Best dream I’ve had in awhile. I’m just sad it came to an end,” you admitted.

 “Dr Sexy?”

 “Something better,” you rolled your eyes. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

 “What if you forget?” He cocked his eyebrow with his one eye still open.

 “Trust me. I will never forget this dream.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did you like it? What was your favourite part? Share your thoughts with me via reblog, reply or send me an ask! Your response is what keeps me sharing stories like this! 

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

I Loved Him... Once - CH 2

Title: I Loved Him… Once

Author: jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Heid (Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid)

Rating: This ones General but eventually as the series goes it will be Explicit

Tags: canon typical violence and gore, eventual smut as the series goes, angst, fluff, pining., its gunna be a slow burn guys.

Summary: A series following the team as they solve crimes and take down the bad guys.

     In Part one of this series, we follow the team as they take down a serial killer that has taken a piece of one of their own. And through it all, Spencer and Hotch come to a few conclusions and realizations of their own.

AO3 Link

Masterlist

*** My works are not to be posted on any sites without my permission! But comments and reblogs are love! <3 Please and thanks!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter two

     "Mommy, Mommy! Are you watching me?!"

     "I see you, Honey! That's very good!"

     "Watch again!"

     JJ smiled as she sat in the folding lawn chair, the legs slowly sinking down into the soft sand, a smile gracing her face as she watched her son swimming in the lake. A hand came from her side to rest over hers on the arm of her chair, entwining their fingers together, and she turned to smile over at her husband. 

     "I can't believe we've actually had five full vacation days without an emergency call in."

     "Me neither," Will smiled back as he brought her hand up to his mouth to kiss it, "it's nice to have some family time, no work, no cases, just you, me, and Henry."

     She hummed her agreement, then added, "We'll have to send your Aunt some flowers when we get back, thank her for letting us use the trailer this week."

     "Yeah, she'll like that."

     They sat in comfortable silence, watching Henry splash around, blissfully happy to just be together and free of the burdens of their heavy jobs. 

     The sun was starting to set, the air around them beginning to chill, so JJ turned over and pressed a quick kiss to Will's lips before standing and calling out, "Henry, come on out now!"

     "Ok!" 

     He ran out of the water towards his mom who was waiting to wrap him up tight in his favourite Captain America towel. She lifted him and held him close, pecking his cold wet cheek with a smack making him giggle. "What do you say we change into our pjs while Daddy starts a fire, and then we make smores!"

     "Yeah!" The boy shouted, throwing his arms in the air. 

     JJ laughed as he just missed smacking her in the face, and Will joined them after packing up the chairs and Henry's water Toys. He walked with his hand on the small of JJ's back as they headed back to the trailer, Henry extremely excited about smores. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Day six of Spencer's lecture series and he had finally made it to the lecture he was most anticipating. ‘Synthetic Metals: A Novel Role For Organic Polymers’ presented by Dr. Alan G. MacDiarmid, and he honestly hadn't known himself to ever be more excited then he was right now. 

     He arrived at the venue early, was the first person in line to enter the auditorium, and found himself a seat front and center. It wasn't long before the doctor was standing at the podium, instantly diving deep into the bones of the lecture, and Spencer couldn't believe he was finally here. Dr. MacDiarmid was enthralling. He captivated the attention of everyone in the auditorium, including spencer. And even though the topic of the lecture was something Spencer had been very interested in learning more about, and nothing against the amazing Dr. Macdiarmid, but about halfway through the lecture Spencer found his mind beginning to wander to other things.

     It was about the thirty minute mark of the lecture, and the doctor was talking about what he and his team had been working on over the past few years regarding the emerging potential technological applications of synthetic metals, beginning with the topic of spun polyaniline fibers and their applications to the future of nanotechnologies, when Spencer really found his concentration moving on to other things. Suddenly he was brought back to his brief conversation with Aaron in the bullpen before he left. His eidetic memory replaying the entire scene perfectly, right down to every twitch and shift in Aaron’s face, and every slight change in his demeanor while they spoke. Even the falter in his words before wishing him a good night before leaving the bureau. It wasn't like his steadfast boss to hesitate like that, his words and movements were always so sure, so he couldn't help it if he wondered if there was maybe something more behind the awkward exchange between him and Aaron.

     And in relation to those thoughts, he was also reminded of his conversations with Emily and Derek earlier that night. Were they right? Was he too uptight? Should he take their advice and have some fun for once, relax? Let his brain shut off and as Derek had so gracefully put it, take advantage of their time off to enjoy ‘a little sand, a little sun, and a whole lotta’ fun’? Maybe it would be good for him to spend a day doing something that didn't involve endlessly shoving knowledge down his throat, just doing nothing. And on that note he wondered if maybe… maybe Aaron would like to spend a day doing nothing with him…

     Suddenly, in an instant Spencer was on his feet, standing stock still in the middle of the auditorium. Dr. MacDiarmid stopped mid-sentence, staring at Spencer with concern along with the rest of the guests in their seats. When he didn't move or make a sound for a good few minutes, the doctor slowly moved from behind the podium to approach Spencer with caution asking, “Sir, are you alright? Do you need anything?”

     Spencer turned towards the doctor but didn't look at him. His eyes remained fixed on the floor in front of him, almost as if they were searching for the answer to his unasked question. His brows furrowed as his brain continued rapidly searching through every memory of him and Aaron, every encounter, every conversation, every look between them, and suddenly… he was pretty sure he had found his answer. A moment of pure enlightenment.

     “Son…” The doctor took a few more steps closer, placing a gentle hand on Spencer's shoulder, “Son, are you alright?”

     “I…” He finally looked up from the ground, his thoughtful expression turning to one of elation, of contentment, a smile slowly creeping across his face as he answered, “I have to go.”

     “I… Son?” The doctor called after him, but Spencer was already gone. He slung his book bag over his shoulder as he took the stairs out of the auditorium three at a time and burst out the doors. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Aaron was just about at the end of his patience. He had spent the first two days of his vacation on the phone with Haley fighting to get time with Jack while he was off, and now on day two he was at the point of practically begging. 

     “Haley, please. I have fourteen days off but who knows how many days I'll actually get before I have to go back for a case,” he sighed into the phone, running a heavy hand down his face as he plopped down on the couch, “all I’m asking for is a few days with my son. You have him full time while I'm working, the least you could do is give me a few days.”

     “He's supposed to be spending the weekend with my parents, Aaron,” she sniped back at him, not a care to the fact that Aaron hadn't seen Jack in over a month.

     “He sees your parents all the time, he saw them two weeks ago. You can reschedule the visit with your parents for any time, but I never know how much time I have before getting called away. I would appreciate a few days here and there when I ask for it, without having to go through this every time.”

     Silence fell over their call for a moment before he heard Haley sigh and knew he had won his case. “Fine,” she huffed, clearly annoyed, “I'll drop him off in an hour, call me in a few days when you want me to come get him.”

     “Thank-you, I'll be ready for him.”

     Without a good-bye or even another word, she hung up the phone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Not two hours later there was a light knock at his door and Aaron jumped off the couch, running to open it.

     “Daddy!” 

     “Hey, buddy!” 

     Jack ran through the door and jumped into Aaron’s arms, sinking his entire body into hugging his dad as tightly as he could. And Aaron gave as good as he got, squishing his son with a smile. 

     Haley walked in behind Jack, watching them, then making eye contact with Aaron over Jack's shoulder. “Call me when he's ready to come home.”

     Aaron nodded, then gave Jack a pat on the back before lowering him to the floor and saying, “Go say bye to Mommy, Jack.”

     He ran over to capture Haley in much the same way as he had hugged Aaron, whispered a goodbye and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Good-bye, my sweet boy, have fun with your Daddy, call me every night before bed, okay.”

     “Okay, Mommy.”

     “Alright,” she said, placing one last kiss to the top of his head before standing and heading for the door, “I'll see you in a few days.”

     She closed the door behind her and Jack immediately ran back over to hug Aaron, who willingly lifted him in his arms again. “I missed you, Daddy.”

     “I missed you too, buddy, I always miss you when you're not here.”

     “I know.”

     Hotch chuckled, then walked Jack over to the kitchen table and placed him in a chair before sitting across from him. He pushed the plate of snacks he’d put together before Jack got there, grabbing one of the small sandwiches for himself, before asking, “So, Jack, what do you want to do while you're here?”

     He made a show of thinking about it while he picked at the sandwich he had taken from the plate, then answered, “Can we go to the park?”

     “Of course, whatever you want.”

     Jack nodded, taking a bite then said, “I was supposed to go to grandma and grandpas house this weekend.”

     “I know, I'm sorry you couldn't visit them, buddy. I just don't know how much time off work I’ll have, or when I will be able to see you next.”

     “It's okay, I'm glad I didn't have to go.”

     Hotch couldn't help but smile a bit, “Why's that?”

     Jack shrugged, “They never take me to the park. They just tell me to play in the backyard, but that's no fun, there's no slides in the backyard.”

     He laughed, Jack was never one to hide his feelings and he loved that about his son. “Well, I promise I will take you to the park everyday while you're here with me, and you can go down the slide as much as you want.” Jack smiled at that, clearly pleased. “Is there anything else you want to do?”

     He made his adorable little thinking face again, but this time came up with nothing. Obviously trips to the park was the only expectation Jack had for this visit with his dad. So Aaron made a suggestion, “How about we go to the movies tonight? And we can get take out for dinner.”

     “Can it be McDonalds?!” 

     He was so excited he nearly jumped over the table, his mom never let him have McDonalds. “Sure, why don't you go get a sweater and we’ll head out now.”

     “Yay!” 

     It took Jack all of two minutes to run to his room, grab a sweater from the closet, and was ready and waiting at the door before Aaron had even grabbed his shoes.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Four days, he had gotten four full days off with Jack without any interruption and it was great. Jack was all smiles, loving every minute of being with Aaron and he was much the same, enjoying every second he could get with his son. They did go to the movies their first night together, and got McDonalds for dinner as promised. Aaron knew Haley never let Jack have things like fast food, pop, or candy, so he always made sure Jack got his fill when he stayed with him. 

     Over their time together, Aaron had also taken him to the local science center, where Jack was all too happy to learn about space in the astronomy section. They also visited the aquarium, Jack's favourites were the sharks and Aaron had to admit they were pretty awesome, the art gallery, and not to mention daily visits to the local park by Aaron’s apartment. Which is where they found themselves now on their fourth day together, walking across the soccer field to get to the large playground. 

     Jack wiggled excitedly in Aaron’s arms as he walked them over, scanning the playground and desperately trying to get free when he saw his friend on the swings. “Daddy, Markus is here!”

     Aaron put him on the ground and Jack was speeding off in an instant. “Stay where I can see you!”

     He didn't answer before making it over to sit on the swing beside Markus, but Aaron wasn't worried, Jack knew well enough to stay exactly where his dad could keep a close eye on him. And seeing as how Jack was having a good time playing with his friends, Aaron found himself a bench close by and sat to watch. He waved to a few of the other parents sitting and doing the same as him, but was perfectly happy to just sit by himself and enjoy the peace and quiet while Jack played happily.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     It was getting late, they still had dinner to make and the promise of a movie in their pj’s on the couch. He wondered if Spencer might like to join them. Wondered if maybe he should take Rossi's advice and call him, see if dinner and a movie with him and Jack was something Spencer might like to do with them. And after a few minutes of thinking about it, imagining the three of them on the couch together, tucked under the blankets with Spencer in a pair of borrowed pjs from Aaron, he decided he was going to call. When he got back home with Jack, before they ate he would do it, he would take the leap and make the call to Spencer.

     The other parents were starting to round up their kids as well, and Aaron was just about to call Jack over to start heading home, when his phone rang in his pocket. 

     He pulled it out with the all too familiar pang in his heart that came everytime he was in this position. On vacation, with Jack, and his phone rang. And everytime he has this moment where he thinks to himself maybe it's fine, maybe it's not work, but everytime he is always thoroughly disappointed. This time is no exception.

     He sighed, looking at the caller ID on his screen before answering, “Hotchner.”

     “Aaron, I need you and your team to come in.”

     “Erin, we’re supposed to be on a two week mandatory holiday,” he tried his best not to convey his anger through the phone, but he was sure he did not succeed. His team deserved this, needed this, and now he was going to have to break the bad news and ruin everything they had planned. 

     “I am aware of that, Agent Hotchner,” her no nonsense tone coming through, “but the other teams are all out in the field, and the California Police Department needs help now. You're all I've got, I have no other choice.”

     “Can’t one of the other teams finish up their current case, or split up their team to at least start working the case in California?”

     “I need you in the field, Aaron,” she was putting her foot down now and Aaron knew that was it, there was no fight here, “when can you get everyone back?”

     He waited a beat to answer, allowing himself a second to absorb the guilt he was feeling, then answered, “We have a few members of the team out of the country right now, I can probably get everyone back and in the office tomorrow afternoon if I start making calls and arranging flights now, evening at the latest, and we will leave for California right away.”

     “Great, I will see you all tomorrow.”

     And with that she hung up, not even giving Aaron the chance to say anything more that might refute her orders. And god, he wished he could. He wished with everything he had that he could tell her no, that he could let his team have the vacations they deserved. The time to relax, to spend with friends, with family, doing what they wanted for their full allotted two weeks. But he knew deep down he couldn't, and he also knew that despite how angry he knew his team would be, they would never blame him for their vacations being cut short. They would always drop everything they were doing, no matter how much it hurt them to do so, because there were always people out there who needed their help, and they would always be there to help them. That's one of the reasons they were the best team the Bureau had, and one of the reasons he was endlessly proud of them.

     With one last hard sigh he ran a hand down his face and called Jack over. He scooped him up and started making his way back to the car, strapping Jack in with the promise of still watching a movie of Jack's choice together after dinner. 

     After they ate and Aaron explained to Jack that he would have to go back to his moms the next morning, he settled Jack on the couch with popcorn and some blankets to scroll through their movie selection. 

     “Alright, you find a good movie for us to watch, and I'll be right back. Daddy just has to make some calls for work tomorrow.”

     “Okay, I'll find a good one.”

     Aaron nodded, but turned back to Jack with a last minute thought on his mind. “I'm sorry we have to cut the visit short, Jack, but I have to go in to work tomorrow, people need my help, you understand that right?”

     Jack nodded, eyes fixed on the tv while he answered, “It's okay, Daddy, I know you have to catch the bad guy. I can come back when you're done work and we can watch more movies.”

     Aaron smiled, so proud of his kid. “You sure can, buddy. Now you pick something good and I'll be right back.”

     He ducked into the kitchen holding his phone in his hand and just staring down at it for a moment. He took a second to compose himself back into boss mode, then dialed the number that had already been pulled up, wishing with all his might that this was not the call he was having to make to Spencer right now.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Spencer burst through the door to his apartment like a man on fire. He tossed his shoulder bag aside, pulled out his phone, and looked at the time. It was a little after five, Aaron was probably at home right now, maybe eating dinner or watching tv, and more then likely with jack. So, it was now or never. One brief moment of bravery was all he needed, he could do this. He faced criminal masterminds every day, he could gather up the courage to send one text to Aaron asking him to have dinner… maybe.

     He quickly typed up a message, kind of a mess of his thoughts all forced out in one big push. But thankfully he read it before sending it, ‘Hi, I was just wondering how your vacation is going? I hope it's going well. I'm assuming you have some time with Jack these two weeks, maybe you'd both like to join me for a walk in the park, or even dinner and a movie night? I was thinking we could have some fun together since I believe we are the only two remaining in town.” 

     His thumb hovered over the send button, but he stopped himself, erased it and tried again. ‘Hello, Aaron. I hope your vacation is going well. Mine has been adequate so far. But before our departure from the BAU, Emily and Derek informed me that I could use some fun in my life. I hadn't been aware that I was lacking in the area, but perhaps you would like to join me for some fun before we return to work?’

     Again he erased it before he could bring himself to send the message, and he tried three more times after that, each one a failed attempt at asking Aaron out. And that's what he realized he was doing here, he was asking his boss on a date. It wasn't exactly something that Spencer had ever done before, always being the awkward, quiet guy who was far too shy to ever make the first move, but he found himself this time saying why not? Why not take the first leap? But every message he typed out sounded wrong, or awkward, or too formal, or not formal enough. 

     He stopped himself then, taking a deep calming breath before closing the text window and pulling up Aaron's phone number. Maybe it would be better to just call him, that way he couldn't overthink this as much as he was right now. He'd be forced to just jump right in.

     “Yeah, let's just call him. That's… that's the best option, right.” 

     He nodded to himself, psyched himself up a little bit, and was about to press the call button when his phone started ringing in his hands. The caller ID coming up as none other than Aaron Hotchner, the very man he was just about to call. His heart gave a little flutter at the idea that Aaron was calling him, maybe even for the same reason he was going to be calling him for. Maybe Aaron wanted this as much as he did, and he just hadn't seen it. The thought sent a jolt of electricity through him as he answered.

     “Hotch, hey, I was just about to call you-”

     “I'm sorry, Reid,” he stopped him short, “but whatever it was you had planned this week, is there any way you can cancel or rearrange? We need everyone back in the office no later than tomorrow evening.”

     “I…” He sighed, trying not to let his disappointment flow through the call. So he cleared his throat and tried to answer professionally. “Yeah, yeah, sure I can be there.”

     “Good, can you meet us at the office tomorrow evening, everyone should be back by then?”

     “Absolutely.”

     “Thanks, Reid, and I'm sorry to have to cut your vacation short.”

     “No problem, I will see you tomorrow.” They both hung up and it took all of Spencer's strength not to slam his phone down on the counter. “It's not like I had any fun plans anyways.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Next chapter we will be getting into more of the case and more Spencer and Hotch moments XD

Let me know what y’all think <3

[castielchitaqua]

kaddish, allen ginsberg

I Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village. downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I’ve been up all night, talking, talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles blues shout blind on the phonograph the rhythm the rhythm—and your memory in my head three years after—And read Adonais’ last triumphant stanzas aloud—wept, realizing how we suffer— And how Death is that remedy all singers dream of, sing, remember, prophesy as in the Hebrew Anthem, or the Buddhist Book of Answers—and my own imagination of a withered leaf—at dawn— Dreaming back thru life, Your time—and mine accelerating toward Apocalypse, the final moment—the flower burning in the Day—and what comes after, looking back on the mind itself that saw an American city a flash away, and the great dream of Me or China, or you and a phantom Russia, or a crumpled bed that never existed— like a poem in the dark—escaped back to Oblivion— No more to say, and nothing to weep for but the Beings in the Dream, trapped in its disappearance, sighing, screaming with it, buying and selling pieces of phantom, worshipping each other, worshipping the God included in it all—longing or inevitability?—while it lasts, a Vision—anything more? It leaps about me, as I go out and walk the street, look back over my shoulder, Seventh Avenue, the battlements of window office buildings shouldering each other high, under a cloud, tall as the sky an instant—and the sky above—an old blue place. or down the Avenue to the south, to—as I walk toward the Lower East Side—where you walked 50 years ago, little girl—from Russia, eating the first poisonous tomatoes of America—frightened on the dock— then struggling in the crowds of Orchard Street toward what?—toward Newark— toward candy store, first home-made sodas of the century, hand-churned ice cream in backroom on musty brownfloor boards— Toward education marriage nervous breakdown, operation, teaching school, and learning to be mad, in a dream—what is this life? Toward the Key in the window—and the great Key lays its head of light on top of Manhattan, and over the floor, and lays down on the sidewalk—in a single vast beam, moving, as I walk down First toward the Yiddish Theater—and the place of poverty you knew, and I know, but without caring now—Strange to have moved thru Paterson, and the West, and Europe and here again, with the cries of Spaniards now in the doorstoops doors and dark boys on the street, fire escapes old as you -Tho you’re not old now, that’s left here with me— Myself, anyhow, maybe as old as the universe—and I guess that dies with us—enough to cancel all that comes—What came is gone forever every time— That’s good! That leaves it open for no regret—no fear radiators, lacklove, torture even toothache in the end— Though while it comes it is a lion that eats the soul—and the lamb, the soul, in us, alas, offering itself in sacrifice to change’s fierce hunger—hair and teeth—and the roar of bonepain, skull bare, break rib, rot-skin, braintricked Implacability. Ai! ai! we do worse! We are in a fix! And you’re out, Death let you out, Death had the Mercy, you’re done with your century, done with God, done with the path thru it—Done with yourself at last—Pure—Back to the Babe dark before your Father, before us all—before the world— There, rest. No more suffering for you. I know where you’ve gone, it’s good. No more flowers in the summer fields of New York, no joy now, no more fear of Louis, and no more of his sweetness and glasses, his high school decades, debts, loves, frightened telephone calls, conception beds, relatives, hands— No more of sister Elanor,.—she gone before you—we kept it secret—you killed her—or she killed herself to bear with you—an arthritic heart—But Death’s killed you both—No matter— Nor your memory of your mother, 1915 tears in silent movies weeks and weeks—forgetting, aggrieve watching Marie Dressler address humanity, Chaplin dance in youth, or Boris Godunov, Chaliapin’s at the Met, hailing his voice of a weeping Czar—by standing

room with Elanor & Max—watching also the Capitalists take seats in Orchestra, white furs, diamonds, with the YPSL’s hitch-hiking thru Pennsylvania, in black baggy gym skirts pants, photograph of 4 girls holding each other round the waste, and laughing eye, too coy, virginal solitude of 1920 all girls grown old, or dead, now, and that long hair in the grave—lucky to have husbands later— You made it—I came too—Eugene my brother before (still grieving now and will gream on to his last stiff hand, as he goes thru his cancer—or kill—later perhaps—soon he will think—) And it’s the last moment I remember, which I see them all, thru myself, now—tho not you I didn’t foresee what you felt—what more hideous gape of bad mouth came first—to you—and were you prepared? To go where? In that Dark—that—in that God? a radiance? A Lord in the Void? Like an eye in the black cloud in a dream? Adonoi at last, with you? Beyond my remembrance! Incapable to guess! Not merely the yellow skull in the grave, or a box of worm dust, and a stained ribbon—Deathshead with Halo? can you believe it? Is it only the sun that shines once for the mind, only the flash of existence, than none ever was? Nothing beyond what we have—what you had—that so pitiful—yet Triumph, to have been here, and changed, like a tree, broken, or flower—fed to the ground—but mad, with its petals, colored, thinking Great Universe, shaken, cut in the head, leaf stript, hid in an egg crate hospital, cloth wrapped, sore—freaked in the moon brain, Naughtless. No flower like that flower, which knew itself in the garden, and fought the knife—lost Cut down by an idiot Snowman’s icy—even in the Spring—strange ghost thought—some Death—Sharp icicle in his hand—crowned with old roses—a dog for his eyes—cock of a sweatshop—heart of electric irons. All the accumulations of life, that wear us out—clocks, bodies, consciousness, shoes, breasts—begotten sons—your Communism—‘Paranoia’ into hospitals. You once kicked Elanor in the leg, she died of heart failure later. You of stroke. Asleep? within a year, the two of you, sisters in death. Is Elanor happy? Max grieves alive in an office on Lower Broadway, lone large mustache over midnight Accountings, not sure. l His life passes—as he sees—and what does he doubt now? Still dream of making money, or that might have made money, hired nurse, had children, found even your Immortality, Naomi? I’ll see him soon. Now I’ve got to cut through—to talk to you—as I didn’t when you had a mouth. Forever. And we’re bound for that, Forever—like Emily Dickinson’s horses—headed to the End. They know the way—These Steeds—run faster than we think—it’s our own life they cross—and take with them. Magnificent, mourned no more, marred of heart, mind behind, married dreamed, mortal changed—Ass and face done with murder. In the world, given, flower maddened, made no Utopia, shut under pine, almed in Earth, balmed in Lone, Jehovah, accept. Nameless, One Faced, Forever beyond me, beginningless, endless, Father in death. Tho I am not there for this Prophecy, I am unmarried, I’m hymnless, I’m Heavenless, headless in blisshood I would still adore Thee, Heaven, after Death, only One blessed in Nothingness, not light or darkness, Dayless Eternity— Take this, this Psalm, from me, burst from my hand in a day, some of my Time, now given to Nothing—to praise Thee—But Death This is the end, the redemption from Wilderness, way for the Wonderer, House sought for All, black handkerchief washed clean by weeping—page beyond Psalm—Last change of mine and Naomi—to God’s perfect Darkness—Death, stay thy phantoms! II Over and over—refrain—of the Hospitals—still haven’t written your history—leave it abstract—a few images run thru the mind—like the saxophone chorus of houses and years—remembrance of electrical shocks. By long nites as a child in Paterson apartment, watching over your nervousness—you were fat—your next move— By that afternoon I stayed home from school to take care of you—once and for all—when I vowed forever that once man disagreed with my opinion of the cosmos, I was lost— By my

later burden—vow to illuminate mankind—this is release of particulars—(mad as you)—(sanity a trick of agreement)— But you stared out the window on the Broadway Church corner, and spied a mystical assassin from Newark, So phoned the Doctor—‘OK go way for a rest’—so I put on my coat and walked you downstreet—On the way a grammarschool boy screamed, unaccountably—‘Where you goin Lady to Death’? I shuddered— and you covered your nose with motheaten fur collar, gas mask against poison sneaked into downtown atmosphere, sprayed by Grandma— And was the driver of the cheesebox Public Service bus a member of the gang? You shuddered at his face, I could hardly get you on—to New York, very Times Square, to grab another Greyhound— where we hung around 2 hours fighting invisible bugs and jewish sickness—breeze poisoned by Roosevelt— out to get you—and me tagging along, hoping it would end in a quiet room in a Victorian house by a lake. Ride 3 hours thru tunnels past all American industry, Bayonne preparing for World War II, tanks, gas fields, soda factories, diners, loco-motive roundhouse fortress—into piney woods New Jersey Indians—calm towns—long roads thru sandy tree fields— Bridges by deerless creeks, old wampum loading the streambeddown there a tomahawk or Pocahontas bone—and a million old ladies voting for Roosevelt in brown small houses, roads off the Madness highway— perhaps a hawk in a tree, or a hermit looking for an owl-filled branch— All the time arguing—afraid of strangers in the forward double seat, snoring regardless—what busride they snore on now? ‘Allen, you don’t understand—it’s—ever since those 3 big sticks up my back—they did something to me in Hospital, they poisoned me, they want to see me dead—3 big sticks, 3 big sticks— ‘The Bitch! Old Grandma! Last week I saw her, dressed in pants like an old man, with a sack on her back, climbing up the brick side of the apartment ‘On the fire escape, with poison germs, to throw on me—at night—maybe Louis is helping her—he’s under her power— ‘I’m your mother, take me to Lakewood’ (near where Graf Zeppelin had crashed before, all Hitler in Explosion) ‘where I can hide.’ We got there—Dr. Whatzis rest home—she hid behind a closet—demanded a blood transfusion. We were kicked out—tramping with Valise to unknown shady lawn houses—dusk, pine trees after dark—long dead street filled with crickets and poison ivy— I shut her up by now—big house REST HOME ROOMS—gave the landlady her money for the week—carried up the iron valise—sat on bed waiting to escape— Neat room in attic with friendly bedcover—lace curtains—spinning wheel rug—Stained wallpaper old as Naomi. We were home. I left on the next bus to New York—laid my head back in the last seat, depressed—the worst yet to come?—abandoning her, rode in torpor—I was only 12. Would she hide in her room and come out cheerful for breakfast? Or lock her door and stare thru the window for sidestreet spies? Listen at keyholes for Hitlerian invisible gas? Dream in a chair—or mock me, by—in front of a mirror, alone? 12 riding the bus at nite thru New Jersey, have left Naomi to Parcae in Lakewood’s haunted house—left to my own fate bus—sunk in a seat—all violins broken—my heart sore in my ribs—mind was empty—Would she were safe in her coffin— Or back at Normal School in Newark, studying up on America in a black skirt—winter on the street without lunch—a penny a pickle—home at night to take care of Elanor in the bedroom— First nervous breakdown was 1919—she stayed home from school and lay in a dark room for three weeks—something bad—never said what—every noise hurt—dreams of the creaks of Wall Street— Before the gray Depression—went upstate New York—recovered—Lou took photo of her sitting crossleg on the grass—her long hair wound with flowers—smiling—playing lullabies on mandolin—poison ivy smoke in left-wing summer camps and me in infancy saw trees— or back teaching school, laughing with idiots, the backward classes—her Russian specialty—morons with dreamy lips, great eyes, thin feet & sicky fingers, swaybacked, rachitic— great heads pendulous

over Alice in Wonderland, a blackboard full of C A T. Naomi reading patiently, story out of a Communist fairy book—Tale of the Sudden Sweetness of the Dictator—Forgiveness of Warlocks—Armies Kissing— Deathsheads Around the Green Table—The King & the Workers—Paterson Press printed them up in the ’30s till she went mad, or they folded, both. O Paterson! I got home late that nite. Louis was worried. How could I be so—didn’t I think? I shouldn’t have left her. Mad in Lakewood. Call the Doctor. Phone the home in the pines. Too late. Went to bed exhausted, wanting to leave the world (probably that year newly in love with R         my high school mind hero, jewish boy who came a doctor later—then silent neat kid— I later laying down life for him, moved to Manhattan—followed him to college—Prayed on ferry to help mankind if admitted—vowed, the day I journeyed to Entrance Exam— by being honest revolutionary labor lawyer—would train for that—inspired by Sacco Vanzetti, Norman Thomas, Debs, Altgeld, Sand-burg, Poe—Little Blue Books. I wanted to be President, or Senator. ignorant woe—later dreams of kneeling by R’s shocked knees declaring my love of 1941—What sweetness he’d have shown me, tho, that I’d wished him & despaired—first love—a crush— Later a mortal avalanche, whole mountains of homosexuality, Matterhorns of cock, Grand Canyons of asshole—weight on my melancholy head— meanwhile I walked on Broadway imagining Infinity like a rubber ball without space beyond—what’s outside?—coming home to Graham Avenue still melancholy passing the lone green hedges across the street, dreaming after the movies—) The telephone rang at 2 A.M.—Emergency—she’d gone mad—Naomi hiding under the bed screaming bugs of Mussolini—Help! Louis! Buba! Fascists! Death!—the landlady frightened—old fag attendant screaming back at her— Terror, that woke the neighbors—old ladies on the second floor recovering from menopause—all those rags between thighs, clean sheets, sorry over lost babies—husbands ashen—children sneering at Yale, or putting oil in hair at CCNY—or trembling in Montclair State Teachers College like Eugene— Her big leg crouched to her breast, hand outstretched Keep Away, wool dress on her thighs, fur coat dragged under the bed—she barricaded herself under bedspring with suitcases. Louis in pajamas listening to phone, frightened—do now?—Who could know?—my fault, delivering her to solitude?—sitting in the dark room on the sofa, trembling, to figure out— He took the morning train to Lakewood, Naomi still under bed—thought he brought poison Cops—Naomi screaming—Louis what happened to your heart then? Have you been killed by Naomi’s ecstasy? Dragged her out, around the corner, a cab, forced her in with valise, but the driver left them off at drugstore. Bus stop, two hours’ wait. I lay in bed nervous in the 4-room apartment, the big bed in living room, next to Louis’ desk—shaking—he came home that nite, late, told me what happened. Naomi at the prescription counter defending herself from the enemy—racks of children’s books, douche bags, aspirins, pots, blood—‘Don’t come near me—murderers! Keep away! Promise not to kill me!’ Louis in horror at the soda fountain—with Lakewood girlscouts—Coke addicts—nurses—busmen hung on schedule—Police from country precinct, dumbed—and a priest dreaming of pigs on an ancient cliff? Smelling the air—Louis pointing to emptiness?—Customers vomiting their Cokes—or staring—Louis humiliated—Naomi triumphant—The Announcement of the Plot. Bus arrives, the drivers won’t have them on trip to New York. Phonecalls to Dr. Whatzis, ‘She needs a rest,’ The mental hospital—State Greystone Doctors—‘Bring her here, Mr. Ginsberg.’ Naomi, Naomi—sweating, bulge-eyed, fat, the dress unbuttoned at one side—hair over brow, her stocking hanging evilly on her legs—screaming for a blood transfusion—one righteous hand upraised—a shoe in it—barefoot in the Pharmacy— The enemies approach—what poisons? Tape recorders? FBI? Zhdanov hiding behind the counter? Trotsky mixing rat bacteria in the back of the store? Uncle Sam in Newark, plotting deathly

perfumes in the Negro district? Uncle Ephraim, drunk with murder in the politician’s bar, scheming of Hague? Aunt Rose passing water thru the needles of the Spanish Civil War? till the hired $35 ambulance came from Red Bank——Grabbed her arms—strapped her on the stretcher—moaning, poisoned by imaginaries, vomiting chemicals thru Jersey, begging mercy from Essex County to Morristown— And back to Greystone where she lay three years—that was the last breakthrough, delivered her to Madhouse again— On what wards—I walked there later, oft—old catatonic ladies, gray as cloud or ash or walls—sit crooning over floorspace—Chairs—and the wrinkled hags acreep, accusing—begging my 13-year-old mercy— ‘Take me home’—I went alone sometimes looking for the lost Naomi, taking Shock—and I’d say, ‘No, you’re crazy Mama,—Trust the Drs.’— And Eugene, my brother, her elder son, away studying Law in a furnished room in Newark— came Paterson-ward next day—and he sat on the broken-down couch in the living room—‘We had to send her back to Greystone’— —his face perplexed, so young, then eyes with tears—then crept weeping all over his face—‘What for?’ wail vibrating in his cheekbones, eyes closed up, high voice—Eugene’s face of pain. Him faraway, escaped to an Elevator in the Newark Library, his bottle daily milk on windowsill of $5 week furn room downtown at trolley tracks— He worked 8 hrs. a day for $20/wk—thru Law School years—stayed by himself innocent near negro whorehouses. Unlaid, poor virgin—writing poems about Ideals and politics letters to the editor Pat Eve News—(we both wrote, denouncing Senator Borah and Isolationists—and felt mysterious toward Paterson City Hall— I sneaked inside it once—local Moloch tower with phallus spire & cap o’ ornament, strange gothic Poetry that stood on Market Street—replica Lyons’ Hotel de Ville— wings, balcony & scrollwork portals, gateway to the giant city clock, secret map room full of Hawthorne—dark Debs in the Board of Tax—Rembrandt smoking in the gloom— Silent polished desks in the great committee room—Aldermen? Bd of Finance? Mosca the hairdresser aplot—Crapp the gangster issuing orders from the john—The madmen struggling over Zone, Fire, Cops & Backroom Metaphysics—we’re all dead—outside by the bus stop Eugene stared thru childhood— where the Evangelist preached madly for 3 decades, hard-haired, cracked & true to his mean Bible—chalked Prepare to Meet Thy God on civic pave— or God is Love on the railroad overpass concrete—he raved like I would rave, the lone Evangelist—Death on City Hall—) But Gene, young,—been Montclair Teachers College 4 years—taught half year & quit to go ahead in life—afraid of Discipline Problems—dark sex Italian students, raw girls getting laid, no English, sonnets disregarded—and he did not know much—just that he lost— so broke his life in two and paid for Law—read huge blue books and rode the ancient elevator 13 miles away in Newark & studied up hard for the future just found the Scream of Naomi on his failure doorstep, for the final time, Naomi gone, us lonely—home—him sitting there— Then have some chicken soup, Eugene. The Man of Evangel wails in front of City Hall. And this year Lou has poetic loves of suburb middle age—in secret—music from his 1937 book—Sincere—he longs for beauty— No love since Naomi screamed—since 1923?—now lost in Greystone ward—new shock for her—Electricity, following the 40 Insulin. And Metrazol had made her fat. So that a few years later she came home again—we’d much advanced and planned—I waited for that day—my Mother again to cook & —play the piano—sing at mandolin—Lung Stew, & Stenka Razin, & the communist line on the war with Finland—and Louis in debt—,uspected to he poisoned money—mysterious capitalisms —& walked down the long front hall & looked at the furniture. She never remembered it all. Some amnesia. Examined the doilies—and the dining room set was sold— the Mahogany table—20 years love—gone to the junk man—we still had the piano—and the book of Poe—and the Mandolin, tho needed some string, dusty— She went to the backroom to lie down in

bed and ruminate, or nap, hide—I went in with her, not leave her by herself—lay in bed next to her—shades pulled, dusky, late afternoon—Louis in front room at desk, waiting—perhaps boiling chicken for supper— ‘Don’t be afraid of me because I’m just coming back home from the mental hospital—I’m your mother—’ Poor love, lost—a fear—I lay there—Said, ‘I love you Naomi,’—stiff, next to her arm. I would have cried, was this the comfortless lone union?—Nervous, and she got up soon. Was she ever satisfied? And—by herself sat on the new couch by the front windows, uneasy—cheek leaning on her hand—narrowing eye—at what fate that day— Picking her tooth with her nail, lips formed an O, suspicion—thought’s old worn vagina—absent sideglance of eye—some evil debt written in the wall, unpaid—& the aged breasts of Newark come near— May have heard radio gossip thru the wires in her head, controlled by 3 big sticks left in her back by gangsters in amnesia, thru the hospital—caused pain between her shoulders— Into her head—Roosevelt should know her case, she told me—Afraid to kill her, now, that the government knew their names—traced back to Hitler—wanted to leave Louis’ house forever. One night, sudden attack—her noise in the bathroom—like croaking up her soul—convulsions and red vomit coming out of her mouth—diarrhea water exploding from her behind—on all fours in front of the toilet—urine running between her legs—left retching on the tile floor smeared with her black feces—unfainted— At forty, varicosed, nude, fat, doomed, hiding outside the apartment door near the elevator calling Police, yelling for her girlfriend Rose to help— Once locked herself in with razor or iodine—could hear her cough in tears at sink—Lou broke through glass green-painted door, we pulled her out to the bedroom. Then quiet for months that winter—walks, alone, nearby on Broadway, read Daily Worker—Broke her arm, fell on icy street— Began to scheme escape from cosmic financial murder-plots—later she ran away to the Bronx to her sister Elanor. And there’s another saga of late Naomi in New York. Or thru Elanor or the Workmen’s Circle, where she worked, ad-dressing envelopes, she made out—went shopping for Campbell’s tomato soup—saved money Louis mailed her— Later she found a boyfriend, and he was a doctor—Dr. Isaac worked for National Maritime Union—now Italian bald and pudgy old doll—who was himself an orphan—but they kicked him out—Old cruelties— Sloppier, sat around on bed or chair, in corset dreaming to herself—‘I’m hot—I’m getting fat—I used to have such a beautiful figure before I went to the hospital—You should have seen me in Woodbine—’ This in a furnished room around the NMU hall, 1943. Looking at naked baby pictures in the magazine—baby powder advertisements, strained lamb carrots—‘I will think nothing but beautiful thoughts.’ Revolving her head round and round on her neck at window light in summertime, in hypnotize, in doven-dream recall— ‘I touch his cheek, I touch his cheek, he touches my lips with his hand, I think beautiful thoughts, the baby has a beautiful hand.’— Or a No-shake of her body, disgust—some thought of Buchenwald—some insulin passes thru her head—a grimace nerve shudder at Involuntary (as shudder when I piss)—bad chemical in her cortex—‘No don’t think of that. He’s a rat.’ Naomi: ‘And when we die we become an onion, a cabbage, a carrot, or a squash, a vegetable.’ I come downtown from Columbia and agree. She reads the Bible, thinks beautiful thoughts all day. ‘Yesterday I saw God. What did he look like? Well, in the afternoon I climbed up a ladder—he has a cheap cabin in the country, like Monroe, N.Y. the chicken farms in the wood. He was a lonely old man with a white beard. ‘I cooked supper for him. I made him a nice supper—lentil soup, vegetables, bread & butter—miltz—he sat down at the table and ate, he was sad. ‘I told him, Look at all those fightings and killings down there, What’s the matter? Why don’t you put a stop to it? ‘I try, he said—That’s all he could do, he looked tired. He’s a bachelor so long, and he likes lentil

soup.’ Serving me meanwhile, a plate of cold fish—chopped raw cabbage dript with tapwater—smelly tomatoes—week-old health food—grated beets & carrots with leaky juice, warm—more and more disconsolate food—I can’t eat it for nausea sometimes—the Charity of her hands stinking with Manhattan, madness, desire to please me, cold undercooked fish—pale red near the bones. Her smells—and oft naked in the room, so that I stare ahead, or turn a book ignoring her. One time I thought she was trying to make me come lay her—flirting to herself at sink—lay back on huge bed that filled most of the room, dress up round her hips, big slash of hair, scars of operations, pancreas, belly wounds, abortions, appendix, stitching of incisions pulling down in the fat like hideous thick zippers—ragged long lips between her legs—What, even, smell of asshole? I was cold—later revolted a little, not much—seemed perhaps a good idea to try—know the Monster of the Beginning Womb—Perhaps—that way. Would she care? She needs a lover. Yisborach, v’yistabach, v’yispoar, v’yisroman, v’yisnaseh, v’yishador, v’yishalleh, v’yishallol, sh’meh d’kudsho, b’rich hu. And Louis reestablishing himself in Paterson grimy apartment in negro district—living in dark rooms—but found himself a girl he later married, falling in love again—tho sere & shy—hurt with 20 years Naomi’s mad idealism. Once I came home, after longtime in N.Y., he’s lonely—sitting in the bedroom, he at desk chair turned round to face me—weeps, tears in red eyes under his glasses— That we’d left him—Gene gone strangely into army—she out on her own in N.Y., almost childish in her furnished room. So Louis walked downtown to postoffice to get mail, taught in highschool—stayed at poetry desk, forlorn—ate grief at Bickford’s all these years—are gone. Eugene got out of the Army, came home changed and lone—cut off his nose in jewish operation—for years stopped girls on Broadway for cups of coffee to get laid—Went to NYU, serious there, to finish Law.— And Gene lived with her, ate naked fishcakes, cheap, while she got crazier—He got thin, or felt helpless, Naomi striking 1920 poses at the moon, half-naked in the next bed. bit his nails and studied—was the weird nurse-son—Next year he moved to a room near Columbia—though she wanted to live with her children— ‘Listen to your mother’s plea, I beg you’—Louis still sending her checks—I was in bughouse that year 8 months—my own visions unmentioned in this here Lament— But then went half mad—Hitler in her room, she saw his mustache in the sink—afraid of Dr. Isaac now, suspecting that he was in on the Newark plot—went up to Bronx to live near Elanor’s Rheumatic Heart— And Uncle Max never got up before noon, tho Naomi at 6 A.M. was listening to the radio for spies—or searching the windowsill, for in the empty lot downstairs, an old man creeps with his bag stuffing packages of garbage in his hanging black overcoat. Max’s sister Edie works—17 years bookkeeper at Gimbels—lived downstairs in apartment house, divorced—so Edie took in Naomi on Rochambeau Ave— Woodlawn Cemetery across the street, vast dale of graves where Poe once—Last stop on Bronx subway—lots of communists in that area. Who enrolled for painting classes at night in Bronx Adult High School—walked alone under Van Cortlandt Elevated line to class—paints Naomiisms— Humans sitting on the grass in some Camp No-Worry summers yore—saints with droopy faces and long-ill-fitting pants, from hospital— Brides in front of Lower East Side with short grooms—lost El trains running over the Babylonian apartment rooftops in the Bronx— Sad paintings—but she expressed herself. Her mandolin gone, all strings broke in her head, she tried. Toward Beauty? or some old life Message? But started kicking Elanor, and Elanor had heart trouble—came upstairs and asked her about Spydom for hours,—Elanor frazzled. Max away at office, accounting for cigar stores till at night. ‘I am a great woman—am truly a beautiful soul—and because of that they (Hitler, Grandma, Hearst, the Capitalists, Franco, Daily News, the ’20s, Mussolini, the living

dead) want to shut me up—Buba’s the head of a spider network—’ Kicking the girls, Edie & Elanor—Woke Edie at midnite to tell her she was a spy and Elanor a rat. Edie worked all day and couldn’t take it—She was organizing the union.—And Elanor began dying, upstairs in bed. The relatives call me up, she’s getting worse—I was the only one left—Went on the subway with Eugene to see her, ate stale fish— ‘My sister whispers in the radio—Louis must be in the apartment—his mother tells him what to say—LIARS!—I cooked for my two children—I played the mandolin—’ Last night the nightingale woke me / Last night when all was still / it sang in the golden moonlight / from on the wintry hill. She did. I pushed her against the door and shouted ‘DON’T KICK ELANOR!’—she stared at me—Contempt—die—disbelief her sons are so naive, so dumb—‘Elanor is the worst spy! She’s taking orders!’ ‘—No wires in the room!’—I’m yelling at her—last ditch, Eugene listening on the bed—what can he do to escape that fatal Mama—‘You’ve been away from Louis years already—Grandma’s too old to walk—’ We’re all alive at once then—even me & Gene & Naomi in one mythological Cousinesque room—screaming at each other in the Forever—I in Columbia jacket, she half undressed. I banging against her head which saw Radios, Sticks, Hitlers—the gamut of Hallucinations—for real—her own universe—no road that goes elsewhere—to my own—No America, not even a world— That you go as all men, as Van Gogh, as mad Hannah, all the same—to the last doom—Thunder, Spirits, lightning! I’ve seen your grave! O strange Naomi! My own—cracked grave! Shema Y’Israel—I am Svul Avrum—you—in death? Your last night in the darkness of the Bronx—I phonecalled—thru hospital to secret police that came, when you and I were alone, shrieking at Elanor in my ear—who breathed hard in her own bed, got thin— Nor will forget, the doorknock, at your fright of spies,—Law advancing, on my honor—Eternity entering the room—you running to the bathroom undressed, hiding in protest from the last heroic fate— staring at my eyes, betrayed—the final cops of madness rescuing me—from your foot against the broken heart of Elanor, your voice at Edie weary of Gimbels coming home to broken radio—and Louis needing a poor divorce, he wants to get married soon—Eugene dreaming, hiding at 125 St., suing negroes for money on crud furniture, defending black girls— Protests from the bathroom—Said you were sane—dressing in a cotton robe, your shoes, then new, your purse and newspaper clippingsno—your honesty— as you vainly made your lips more real with lipstick, looking in the mirror to see if the Insanity was Me or a earful of police. or Grandma spying at 78—Your vision—Her climbing over the walls of the cemetery with political kidnapper’s bag—or what you saw on the walls of the Bronx, in pink nightgown at midnight, staring out the window on the empty lot— Ah Rochambeau Ave.—Playground of Phantoms—last apartment in the Bronx for spies—last home for Elanor or Naomi, here these communist sisters lost their revolution— ‘All right—put on your coat Mrs.—let’s go—We have the wagon downstairs—you want to come with her to the station?’ The ride then—held Naomi’s hand, and held her head to my breast, I’m taller—kissed her and said I did it for the best—Elanor sick—and Max with heart condition—Needs— To me—‘Why did you do this?’—‘Yes Mrs., your son will have to leave you in an hour’—The Ambulance came in a few hours—drove off at 4 A.M. to some Bellevue in the night downtown—gone to the hospital forever. I saw her led away—she waved, tears in her eyes. Two years, after a trip to Mexico—bleak in the flat plain near Brentwood, scrub brush and grass around the unused RR train track to the crazyhouse— new brick 20 story central building—lost on the vast lawns of madtown on Long Island—huge cities of the moon. Asylum spreads out giant wings above the path to a minute black hole—the door—entrance thru crotch— I went in—smelt funny—the halls again—up elevator—to a glass door on a Women’s Ward—to Naomi—Two nurses buxom white—They led her out, Naomi

stared—and I gaspt—She’d had a stroke— Too thin, shrunk on her bones—age come to Naomi—now broken into white hair—loose dress on her skeleton—face sunk, old! withered—cheek of crone— One hand stiff—heaviness of forties & menopause reduced by one heart stroke, lame now—wrinkles—a scar on her head, the lobotomy—ruin, the hand dipping downwards to death— O Russian faced, woman on the grass, your long black hair is crowned with flowers, the mandolin is on your knees— Communist beauty, sit here married in the summer among daisies, promised happiness at hand— holy mother, now you smile on your love, your world is born anew, children run naked in the field spotted with dandelions, they eat in the plum tree grove at the end of the meadow and find a cabin where a white-haired negro teaches the mystery of his rainbarrel— blessed daughter come to America, I long to hear your voice again, remembering your mother’s music, in the Song of the Natural Front— O glorious muse that bore me from the womb, gave suck first mystic life & taught me talk and music, from whose pained head I first took Vision— Tortured and beaten in the skull—What mad hallucinations of the damned that drive me out of my own skull to seek Eternity till I find Peace for Thee, O Poetry—and for all humankind call on the Origin Death which is the mother of the universe!—Now wear your nakedness forever, white flowers in your hair, your marriage sealed behind the sky—no revolution might destroy that maidenhood— O beautiful Garbo of my Karma—all photographs from 1920 in Camp Nicht-Gedeiget here unchanged—with all the teachers from Vewark—Nor Elanor be gone, nor Max await his specter—nor Louis retire from this High School— Back! You! Naomi! Skull on you! Gaunt immortality and revolution come—small broken woman—the ashen indoor eyes of hospitals, ward grayness on skin— ‘Are you a spy?’ I sat at the sour table, eyes filling with tears—‘Who are you? Did Louis send you?—The wires—’ in her hair, as she beat on her head—‘I’m not a bad girl—don’t murder me!—I hear the ceiling—I raised two children—’ Two years since I’d been there—I started to cry—She stared—nurse broke up the meeting a moment—I went into the bathroom to hide, against the toilet white walls ‘The Horror’ I weeping—to see her again—‘The Horror’—as if she were dead thru funeral rot in—‘The Horror!’ I came back she yelled more—they led her away—‘You’re not Allen—’ I watched her face—but she passed by me, not looking— Opened the door to the ward,—she went thru without a glance back, quiet suddenly—I stared out—she looked old—the verge of the grave—‘All the Horror!’ Another year, I left N.Y.—on West Coast in Berkeley cottage dreamed of her soul—that, thru life, in what form it stood in that body, ashen or manic, gone beyond joy— near its death—with eyes—was my own love in its form, the Naomi, my mother on earth still—sent her long letter—& wrote hymns to the mad—Work of the merciful Lord of Poetry. that causes the broken grass to be green, or the rock to break in grass—or the Sun to be constant to earth—Sun of all sunflowers and days on bright iron bridges—what shines on old hospitals—as on my yard— Returning from San Francisco one night, Orlovsky in my room—Whalen in his peaceful chair—a telegram from Gene, Naomi dead— Outside I bent my head to the ground under the bushes near the garage—knew she was better— at last—not left to look on Earth alone—2 years of solitude—no one, at age nearing 60—old woman of skulls—once long-tressed Naomi of Bible— or Ruth who wept in America—Rebecca aged in Newark—David remembering his Harp, now lawyer at Yale or Srul Avrum—Israel Abraham—myself—to sing in the wilderness toward God—O Elohim!—so to the end—2 days after her death I got her letter— Strange Prophecies anew! She wrote—‘The key is in the window, the key is in the sunlight at the window—I have the key—Get married Allen don’t take drugs—the key is in the bars, in the sunlight in the window. Love, your mother’ which is Naomi— Hymmnn In the world which He has created according to his will Blessed Praised Magnified Lauded

Exalted the Name of the Holy One Blessed is He! In the house in Newark Blessed is He! In the madhouse Blessed is He! In the house of Death Blessed is He! Blessed be He in homosexuality! Blessed be He in Paranoia! Blessed be He in the city! Blessed be He in the Book! Blessed be He who dwells in the shadow! Blessed be He! Blessed be He! Blessed be you Naomi in tears! Blessed be you Naomi in fears! Blessed Blessed Blessed in sickness! Blessed be you Naomi in Hospitals! Blessed be you Naomi in solitude! Blest be your triumph! Blest be your bars! Blest be your last years’ loneliness! Blest be your failure! Best be your stroke! Blest be the close of your eye! Blest be the gaunt of your cheek! Blest be your withered thighs! Blessed be Thee Naomi in Death! Blessed be Death! Blessed be Death! Blessed be He Who leads all sorrow to Heaven! Blessed be He in the end! Blessed be He who builds Heaven in Darkness! Blessed Blessed Blessed be He! Blessed be He! Blessed be Death on us All! III Only to have not forgotten the beginning in which she drank cheap sodas in the morgues of Newark, only to have seen her weeping on gray tables in long wards of her universe only to have known the weird ideas of Hitler at the door, the wires in her head, the three big sticks rammed down her back, the voices in the ceiling shrieking out her ugly early lays for 30 years, only to have seen the time-jumps, memory lapse, the crash of wars, the roar and silence of a vast electric shock, only to have seen her painting crude pictures of Elevateds running over the rooftops of the Bronx her brothers dead in Riverside or Russia, her lone in Long Island writing a last letter—and her image in the sunlight at the window ‘The key is in the sunlight at the window in the bars the key is in the sunlight,’ only to have come to that dark night on iron bed by stroke when the sun gone down on Long Island and the vast Atlantic roars outside the great call of Being to its own to come back out of the Nightmare—divided creation—with her head lain on a pillow of the hospital to die —in one last glimpse—all Earth one everlasting Light in the familiar black-out—no tears for this vision— But that the key should be left behind—at the window—the key in the sunlight—to the living—that can take that slice of light in hand—and turn the door—and look back see Creation glistening backwards to the same grave, size of universe, size of the tick of the hospital's clock on the archway over the white door— IV O mother what have I left out O mother what have I forgotten O mother farewell with a long black shoe farewell with Communist Party and a broken stocking farewell with six dark hairs on the wen of your breast farewell with your old dress and a long black beard around the vagina farewell with your sagging belly with your fear of Hitler with your mouth of bad short stories with your fingers of rotten mandolins with your arms of fat Paterson porches with your belly of strikes and smokestacks with your chin of Trotsky and the Spanish War with your voice singing for the decaying overbroken workers with your nose of bad lay with your nose of the smell of the pickles of Newark with your eyes with your eyes of Russia with your eyes of no money with your eyes of false China with your eyes of Aunt Elanor with your eyes of starving India with your eyes pissing in the park with your eyes of America taking a fall with your eyes of your failure at the piano with your eyes of your relatives in California with your eyes of Ma Rainey dying in an aumbulance with your eyes of Czechoslovakia attacked by robots with your eyes going to painting class at night in the Bronx with your eyes of the killer Grandma you see on the horizon from the Fire-Escape with your eyes running naked out of the apartment screaming into the hall with your eyes being led away by policemen to an aumbulance with your eyes strapped down on the operating table with your eyes with the pancreas removed with your eyes of appendix operation with your eyes of abortion with your eyes of ovaries removed with your eyes of shock with your

eyes of lobotomy with your eyes of divorce with your eyes of stroke with your eyes alone with your eyes with your eyes with your Death full of Flowers V Caw caw caw crows shriek in the white sun over grave stones in Long Island Lord Lord Lord Naomi underneath this grass my halflife and my own as hers caw caw my eye be buried in the same Ground where I stand in Angel Lord Lord great Eye that stares on All and moves in a black cloud caw caw strange cry of Beings flung up into sky over the waving trees Lord Lord O Grinder of giant Beyonds my voice in a boundless field in Sheol Caw caw the call of Time rent out of foot and wing an instant in the universe Lord Lord an echo in the sky the wind through ragged leaves the roar of memory caw caw all years my birth a dream caw caw New York the bus the broken shoe the vast highschool caw caw all Visions of the Lord Lord Lord Lord caw caw caw Lord Lord Lord caw caw caw Lord Paris, December 1957—New York, 1959

[127-mile]

Colours :

Pairing : Chittaphon/Ten Lee x female reader.

Genre : soulmates!au, criminal!au / angst, fluff.

Warnings : flashbacks / characters’ deaths / hit and run / cursed necklace / mention of blood / alcohol / non explicit mention of deaths.

Word count : +9k.

Plot : Soulmates exist, and sometimes, they are hard to find. Meeting Cyan and her book of colours in broad daylight was unexpected. When she offered you the opportunity to find your soulmate, you said yes. It was quite simple : you only had to pick a colour. One colour, one alternate reality. And only one chance for you to find them, and bring them back.

You picked silver where soulmates have memories of each other from their past life.

A/N : This is part of a soulmate collab, please go read the other writers works, and feel free to give us feedbacks. I’ll add the link to the masterlist later, but you can find it on @neo-cult-ure​ who is the beautiful soul behind this collab.

"Why are we here ?" the boy ignores you, a small huff coming through his pursed lips. "What do they have that is important enough to put us both in danger ?" you start to run out of patience, your foot hitting the ground repeatedly. "Maybe we shouldn't do that. Everything has gone very well so far, maybe we shouldn't push our luck, don't you think ?"

Ten finally turns around, an expression on his face that you can't quite decipher. He grabs your hand to bring you closer to him, and with the way his chest presses against yours, you are pretty sure he can feel how hard your heart beats. "Come on, sunshine." he says, fingers brushing against your cheeks so softly that you are not sure if it is really happening. "We don't have anything to lose, and we will find each other again no matter what." He is right, you know that, but for some reason, you can't shake the feeling that it could be the last time.

"It took me 2 more years to find you this time. It's getting longer every time. What if I can't find you again after that ? What if I'm left alone for the rest of my life and the others ?" you take a deep breath, trying hard not to embarrass yourself even more in front of Ten. "You promised me I would never be alone." your voice is shaky, barely above a whisper and Ten laughs, at least until he sees your eyes filling with tears.

"And I plan on keeping my promise. No matter how long it takes, I will find you every time." He says, and his face is so close to yours that you can smell the faint and sweet smell of his cologne. You feel a sudden rush of helplessness when he kisses you, your hands gripping his shoulders to stay grounded. "It's now or never, my love."

He lets go of your face, and he turns on his heels to open the lock of the backdoor. "You know what to do, right ?" he asks, and you nod. Of course you do, especially after repeating the plan so many times on the way to the house. "Perfect. Let's meet up in thirty minutes in the soma (south marais)." He kisses your cheek, and you have to resist the urge to grab his arm, and to force him far away from here, far away from the life he has always known.

The hideout is only a few miles away from the house, which should be close enough in case anything happens. But there is no reason, right ? You sigh. "Please, be careful." you go around the house, and as soon as you see the door, you knock as quickly as possible. The burn of the wood against your knuckles helps you focus on the task.

"Help, please, help !" you scream, banging your fist against the front door. At first nothing happens, but after a few minutes, the lighs turn on behind the tinted windows on each sides of the door. When the door opens, you start to pants, your eyes focusing on the owner of the house, an old man wearing a red dressing gown. "Please, help me. I-my car broke down." you say hurriedly, with the most botched accent. "I- I was just tru-trying to go buy some medicine for my little brother. He-he is alone and sick and-and I don't know what to do, or who to call."

The man seems lost, but only for a minute. He grabs his keys, and steps out of the house. You wonder how he managed to understand and especially to believe what you just said because that was some lame improvisation you just did. "Which one is yours ?" he asks, and you lead him down the street, to a car Ten forced open a couple of hours ago, when he was sure that the owner would not leave his apartment again. "Open the hood, would you." you sit in front of the steering wheel, and you press the button for the hood.

You do not pay the slightest attention to the man who looks at the engine of the car, too busy looking at the old man's house. You are pretty sure to see Ten's shadow behind the window of the first floor, and you honestly wish it was him, and not another resident. "Start the engine." you hear him say, and you freeze. Ten never told you how to use the cables to start a stolen car.

"Alright, alright." You grab the cables, and you try rubbing them, but nothing happens. So when the man looks at you, you shrug and he goes right back behind the hood. One of the lights turn on and off a few times. The sign. It's time to get the fuck out of here. You get out of the car, to join the man who slightly jumps. "Would you mind calling a car repairer for me ?" you cock your head on the side, with the softest smile and he nods.

"Of course, follow me." you obey, and when he enters the house, you hope Ten found a way out in time. You see the man rummaging through the drawers to find a cellphone he probably hasn't used in weeks. When he turns around, you just run. You run for dear life, ignoring the burn of your lungs screaming for you to stop, to catch your breath, but you can't. Not right now. You only slow down when you catch sight of the fairy lights from one of the marais' shops.

"Oh fuck." You mutter when you feel bile going up your throat, clearly out of shape for such a run. Being in Paris is a fascinating experience because nobody watches you as you walk down the street, fingers pressing against your side, sweaty and breathless. You turn in the dark alley where Ten told you to wait earlier. It is really dark, no light in sight, but it is still comforting.

Twenty minutes pass, and Ten is not here. You try, you really try, but eventually, fear starts to invade your nerves. What if someone saw him and called the cops ? What if he had an accident on his way here ? You rub your eyes, and you notice how tears started to roll down your red cheeks, the adrenaline slowly draining away from your body.

"Yn ?" You turn your head in time to see Ten. He has the biggest smile on his face, and he holds a necklace like the most precious trophey he has ever had. All of that for a necklace ? You shake your head, getting out of your hiding spot to walk toward him. But before you can even reach the curb, a car rushes towards Ten probably after running the red light.

"Ten !" you scream at the top of your lungs, and then, everything seems to slow down. Ten's body hit the hood of the car, his torso and head smashing against the windshield while his arms and legs are flailing, searching for somewhere to hold and stop the movement. The only sounds that fill your ears are the crushing of glass mixed with the distinct crackles of his bones. The car stopps, only for a minute, and from the broken windshield, you can see the hesitation on the driver's face. The reality hitting him at full speed.

The person drives away from Ten's inert body. You suddenly find yourself on your knees beside him, you didn't even remember ordering your body to move. Blood is running down his nose, and mouth and his chest is barely moving. "Ten, Ten, please wake up. Open your eyes." You say, frantic. "You promised ! You promised goddamit !" Your body is shaken by your sobs when Ten finally opens his mouth.

"Wake up."

Suddenly the voice is completely different, and when you open your eyes, the boy, the street in Paris, the broken glass, everything is gone, and you are alone in your bedroom. Your heart beats so hard that it hurts, and your face is wet with tears. You are still shaken up by the obvious dream you had. Even if the boy's face starts to fade, his words, and the sound of the crash still cloud your mind. You wince at the sound of your phone ringing on the bedside table.

From Mother : Today is the last day before I throw out all the stuff, hurry up.

You never had that kind of dream before, it felt so real, so comforting to be with him, so painful to lose him. It was almost like your body remembered something your brain couldn’t. His words had stuck with you in the shower. “I plan on keeping my promise. No matter how long it takes, I will find you every time.” For some reason, it made your heart ache. You thought that like every other dream, you would forget about it, but you didn’t. You even found yourself rubbing at your hands to wipe away the blood you had in the dream.

As hard as it is to stop thinking about your dream, you unfortunately have to brush it away to look for your older brother. As per usual, he was in his bedroom with his headset, and his game controller glued to his hands.

“Could you drive me to grandma’s ?” He barely looks up from his game, and he shrugs. “Please ? Grandma said I could take some of the old books she had, and mom is ready to throw everything away.”

In no time, Hansol is on his feet, he would never miss an opportunity to piss off your mother. The latter was way too happy when your grandmother passed away, too happy to be the new owner of the house she had be longing on for years.

“Let’s go.” He says, and you follow him out of the apartment to the parking. The ride to the house is pretty quiet, except for the weird noises coming from the old’s car engine. Hansol is the quiet type of guy, and you don’t mind as much usually, but today you feel restless. Probably because of the images of the crash playing in your mind.

“Can I ask you a question ?” When he nods, you take a deep breathe. “Have you met your soulmate already ?” Hansol freezes, hands still on the steering wheel, you know it is a sensitive subject because Hansol is going to be forced in a marriage by your parents to someone he had never met before. To the daughter of some chairman who promised to help the family’s struggling corporation, but you really need to know. Seeing him nod hurts you. “How does it feel ?”

“As soon as I met them, I understood how vital they are for us. Why they exist. A soulmate is.. it is everything you always wanted and more. They become the better part of you. Suddenly, everything seems brighter. And when you think about the years you spent without knowing of their existence, without having them by your side, you wonder how you did to survive.” He explains in a low voice. “You have the memories of your soulmate from your past life, yes, but it is not enough to fill the void inside your heart. You need them with you.”

He met his soulmate, and now he has to live with the fact that he will never be with them. And it breaks your heart. “Have you met your soulmate ?” He asks and you shake your head. “It’s probably for the best.” You want to apologize, to say something, but it is not your fault, and he knows it. It is your parents fault.

“Wait a minute !” You say suddenly when the boy parks in front of the house. He turns to look at you with a frown. “Memories of your soulmate from your past life ? What ?” Hansol rolls his eyes, and gets out of the car. “What is wrong with you ? Have you suddenly forgotten everything?”

You go up the driveway to the front door, Hansol muttering under his breath about how dumb you had to be to forget about the most important part of the whole soulmates thing, especially after hearing your parents talk about it for years. The door opens on your mother, and she looks at you and sighs.

“You have an hour, after that, everything is leaving.” You nod, and she takes a step out of the house, and you enter. It feels weird to be in the house after your grandma’s passing. No cooking smell, no crackling sound coming from the old turntable, just an odd silence.

The door to the reading room is ajar, which is weird. Your mother particularly hate this room, so she wouldn’t have come inside. You push the door completely open, trying to ignore the weird feeling of being watched, and the faint smell of smoke. The room consists of large bookcases against the walls, frames on old pieces of furnitures and a whole lot of trinkets your grandmother loved so much.

A box on the armchair catches your attention, it is open. You take a step toward said box to put it on the floor. It contains a lot of pictures, yellowed by time and burnt at some places. Under the photos, you find letters, you notice how the ink started to disappear, the paper seems to be stained with dried tears. Everything is covered in dust, and blowing on it only makes you cough hard enough for your lungs to burn. And under a bunch of old books, you find a silver colored pouch, a medaillon is inside but it is broken. Either by time, or by the weight of the books.

“My one and only.” You read on the back of the medaillon, and before you can try and open it, the sound of broken glass makes you jump, reminding you of your dream. You put your hands on your ears to cover the noise, and it takes you a couple of minutes for your heartbeat to calm down. Finally, you get up, medaillon still in hands, and you find Hansol in the living room. “What was that ?” You ask, and he shrugs. The floor is covered with sharp pieces of glass from an old vase. “Isn’t that the vase mom wanted to sell ?”

“Well, guess she won’t have that !” Of course, you think. “Now get out of the room, I know you, you’re going to hurt yourself.” He knows you, so you go back to the reading room. You gather a few trinkets and more books into the opened box. It is sad to think it is the last time you will see this room, the last time you will smell the dust mixed with the roses. But it’s life.

“We can go.” You tell your brother who also has a box in his arms. The way back to the apartment is quiet, and it gives you the opportunity to think about the dream you had the night before. It was scary, and it felt like some sort of déjà-vu. But it was not possible, because to this day, you have never seen a car accident, and especially, you never went to Paris. And the boy.. that boy, just thinking about it brings tears to your eyes.

"Are you okay ?" Hansol asks, and you shrug slightly. "You can always talk to me, you know ?" you nod, of course you know. Your brother is the only person in your family that will always be there no matter what.

"I just had a weird dream last night, and I can't seem to forget about it. I mean, not all of it." You say, and he encourages you to continue. "Like, I can remember the details of the dream, what happened, the sound, and weirdly enough even the smell. But when I try to remember the boy I was with it's just..foggy." He laughs softly, and you turn to look at him. "What's so funny ?"

"What you had was not a simple dream." he starts. "It was memories. And the boy you can't remember ? It was probably your soulmate." It makes sense. But it was the first time you had one of those, why now ? What changed ? Your eyes widden when you remember one tiny detail. The old lady the day before. The one who asked you to pick from her book of colours. Are you in the alternate reality she told you about before you chose silver ?

"Oh my god." you whisper, and Hansol doesn't try to understand what is going on. He rolls his eyes, and he parks the car before getting out, so you follow him with the box in your arms. You feel silly for not thinking about Cyan before, it was so obvious. Especially after spending so many years without finding any kind of trace of your soulmate.

Once in your room, you put the box on the bed, and you sit opposite to retrieve the pouch with the medallion that you did not have time to watch in detail apart from the fact that it was impossible to open and the engraved words. It seems old, and it is rusty on the edges but still beautiful. You close your eyes, and you see him. You see the boy from last night.

He is smiling, his fingers brushing against the medaillon around your neck. “It is gorgeous.” he whispers fondly. “But not as gorgeous as you.” you feel the heat go up to your cheeks, and you find yourself unable to hold his gaze. He is not tall, nor muscular but he is intimidating.

“As beautiful as the medaillon is, you shouldn’t have done that.” You hear yourself say and he shrugs. Ten hasn’t been allowed to enter the Ji family’s property for several years, frankly, since you discovered he was your soulmate. Your family always hated him, that’s why this morning he entered by the window, scaring you, like the thief he is, to offer you the medaillon. “I just want you to be safe.” You whisper.

“I am always safe, the proof is that I’m here.” If at first it was hard to believe that a thief could be your soulmate, you were used to it by now, and you could no longer imagine your life without him, his loud laugh and obnoxiously bright smile. "With you here, on this earth at the same time as me, and all mine, I would never do anything that could potentially endanger me." you tried to ask him to change his way of life, but you quickly gave up. It is what makes him, him. And maybe changing your decision had something to do with the fact that it was bothering your family.

"But I can take it back, you know, if it's bothering you ?" He says in a low voice, and you shake your head covering the medaillon with both your hands.

"Hands off ! That's mine now." You take a step back, and Ten laughs. Stolen or not, it's a gift and you intend on keeping it preciously. If you knew it would cause you so much trouble, pain, you would have thrown it away without a second thought.

When you open your eyes again, you are back in your room and once again, the boy’s face fades right away. The medaillon was the same as the one you are holding, even if it was in a better state and seemingly brand new. “Why are you here ?” You mutter to the medaillon, trying to ignore the ponding headache who settled in while your eyes were closed. It was fate for you to find the medaillon in your grandmother’s room, even though you do not remember ever seeing her wearing it or even showing it to you.

You don’t really know how to take it from here, what to do or where to look. You take the silvery pouch to put the medaillon inside, but when you open it, you notice a little card. A business card. “Le bazar des rêves, antiquarian.” with the address of the shop which is not so far from your apartment. So you get up, to once again, burst into your brother's room. "Can you driv-"

"No ! Take your legs and walk." He answers before you even have time to finish your question, so you sigh. You grab your jacket, the pouch and the shop's adress. Weirdly enough, you have never seen this shop before, maybe it is just a change from the alternate reality. The surprise does not come from the objects in the shop, but rather from the person behind the counter.

"Cyan ?" You ask, and the lady turns around with a bright smile. In your memories, her hair was jetblack but now it is gray and it shines under the neon lights of the shop. It is honestly mesmerizing.

"I'm glad to see you, y/n." she begins to say, arms crossed against her chest. "I was scared you wouldn't find the medaillon in your grandmother's box." You take a step towards the counter. Is that why the door was open ? Why you felt watched in a room where you used to feel so safe during your childhood ?

"Did you put it there ? Why ? And why do I have memories about this necklace ? About the memories, is that the consequence of the alternate reality ? What am I supposed to do now ? How do I find my soulmate ?" Cyan laughs softly, so many questions in so little time. She turns around to lock the shop, and she beckons you to follow her into the back room. A wooden coffee table is in between two leather armchairs. You sit in one of them, your eyes following Cyan's every moves. "So ?"

“Let’s start with the beginning, shall we ?” When you nod, she takes a seat and starts to play with her bracelet. “The medaillon you are holding was stolen many many years ago. Unfortunately, the thief didn’t know back then that whoever would take it without the permission of its original owner would be hit with what you could call a curse. In a world where soulmates find each other in every life, they would be cursed for eleven lives."

Right now, it does not make a lot of sense to you, you wonder why she tells you all of it ? What is the connection between you and the medaillon ? "And why was I supposed to find it then ?" Cyan sighs, clearly annoyed to be cut in the middle of her explanation. "Sorry, keep going."

"If you have memories about this necklace, it's because your soulmate stole it for you. Because you are the couple cursed by it. You've been coming to see me for ten lives now. Every time, I find a new way to put the medaillon on yours or your soulmate's way, to have you come to me so I can explain once again what is going on." you get up and shake your head, muttering under your breath.

"Wait wait ! You said we would be cursed for eleven lives, right ? And now you said I came to you 10 times. It is the last life with the curse then ?" Cyan nods, finally back to her peaceful smile. "What is the curse about ? Like what is supposed to happen for eleven lives ?" She seems hesitant to answer, which is weird. You hit the ground with your feet. "Please, I need to know what to expect." 

"You are not going to like my answer." she says. "And I understand, I really do but please, don't break anything this time, it's not my fault." she takes a deep breath. "You'll have a perfect life, but you or your soulmate are destined to die before the happy ending." Your heart stops instantly. It is cruel. So much death, and so much pain for a stupid medaillon !

"So the car accident." You mutter and Cyan nods, she knows more than what she says and you are grateful for that, you are not sure you can handle more. You swallow dryly, and you sit down, suddenly dizzy.

"What are you doing ?" You ask the boy in front of you, a knee on the ground. "No seriously Ten, come on, get up !" The boy shakes his head and he takes a silver velvet case out of his pocket. He opens it on a beautiful diamond ring, and you find yourself completely mute. The piece of jewlery is stunning, and it shines under the rays of sunshine coming through the curtains of your bedroom. "Where did you steal it this time ?"

The question could break the mood, but Ten laughs out loud. "You may not believe me, but I didn't steal this one." His smile slowly fades, for a more serious look. This is the first time you have seen Ten like that, and it is different from his usual playful self. "I know I should have done this earlier. I also should have done this during our previous lives, but I guess this time I'm a little less stupid." You doubt about it, but you stay quiet.

"I understood how lucky I was the very first time I saw you, the first time my gaze landed on you. So when I learned that we were soulmates, and that we were going to find ourselves life after life? I was ecstatic, because you would be mine for eternity and nobody is as perfect as you are for me. I know, I messed up eight lives ago, but I'm trying my best every time to make our lives better, to improve myself." He says in a soft voice. "We'll find each other again and again, no matter what happens or the time it takes, I know we'll be each other in the end. But I still feel the need to ask you the question. Would you make me the happiest man on earth by marrying me ?"

Ten is a bit shy about his feelings. So hearing him speak takes your breath away, and makes your heart beat so hard in your chest that it could fall at your feet that you wouldn't be surprise. You cock your head, nodding slowly. "Of course I want to marry you Ten. In this life, and in all of the others." Ten rises and kisses you like there is no tomorrow, and it is true, you do not know how long you'll have with him each time.

"I love you, I love you so much." He whispers against your lips in between two kisses, and you smile, cupping his face. "I never thought I could be happier." He grabs your hand, and he puts the ring on your finger. The ring is gorgeous, but knowing that he didn't steal it makes it even more beautiful for you.

“I love you even more.” You say, and you open your eyes when someone clears its throat in front of you. Once again, Ten has disappeared and this time, it’s Cyan who took his place. She is handing you a cup of tea with an apologetic look, probably used of seeing you passed out. “Where can I find him ?” You ask, before sipping on the cup. Your head is pounding, you feel lightheaded and tired, but you need to know how to find him. Your body is craving his presence.

“He hasn't come yet. If you have the medaillon, he has the ring, and he probably hasn’t found it yet.” She explains. As important as the medaillon is because of the curse, the ring is important too because of its sentimental value.

"Did he come every time ?" You ask, and Cyan shakes her head after a couple of minutes.

"Sometimes he needs more informations, sometimes he does not bother and figure the situation by himself, and once even I couldn’t find the medaillon to give it to either of you. But you always found each other no matter what, so don't worry too much." It is hard not to worry. What if this time, you can't find him, then what ? Are you stuck in the alternate reality until you find him ? Are you sent back to your usual world without a clue of how or where to find him ? "Go home, have some rest." She hands you a bottle of pills she found in one of the drawers of an old dresser. "Take one, enjoy at least a night without dream, it's for your own good. I think your brain has had enough for the day."

You get up, but before leaving the shop, you turn around to ask. "What does he look like ? How am I supposed to recognize him ?"

Cyan smiles softly. "You'll know it's him, trust me."

In the two weeks following Cyan's revelation, nothing happened. No dreams, no flashbacks, nothing at all. Just a feeling of emptiness and sadness. Fortunately, you had other things to do to avoid thinking about this boy whose memories are increasingly erased as time goes by. To avoid feeling this intense fear of completely forgetting the existence of your soulmate. Because what if you did ? What if one day you woke up with nothing left of him ? What if one day, the medaillon on your bedside table was just a piece of jewelry you found at your grandmother's place ? What if one day, you were back to your usual reality with nothing ? That's a lot of scary thoughts you are trying to run away from.

Preparing for your brother's wedding was taking up a lot of your time, and you have never been more excited to go home than at that moment, the key in the lock. "What?" You whisper in disbelief when the key does not turn. Pushing the door is enough to open it, which is strange, since Hansol is getting to know his future wife on the other side of town.

Your first thought is a burglary. So you expect to find things all over the floor, and maybe broken things, but none of that. On the contrary, you hear music, and footsteps in the kitchen. You close the door silently behind you, and you walk to the kitchen where your gaze is placed on a boy cooking, a cloth on his shoulder. He hums, indifferent to what is going on around him. "Who are you ? How did you get in here ?" You ask, and he jumps, the spatula falling on the ground and he curses under his breath.

He doesn't turn around, still focusing on whatever he is cooking. "Well, you know how good I am at lock-picking, and you only have one lock on your door and I just happened to have my lock-picking set with me, so you know." He says with a shrug, and you shake your head. Who the hell is he, thinking it is alright to pick your lock. He turns around and he sighs at the frown on your face. "Fine, I'll knock next time.. but in my defense, you were not there, and I was starving."

"Who the fuck are you ?" You ask and he rolls his eyes. He turns one more time to put the pan out of the stove, and you take the time to watch him. Dark gray hair with strikes of pink, a ripped denim jacket, a pair of white jean and he is rather small. He is handsome, that's for sure, but that doesn't take away the fact that he's in your apartment, and that you don't know him.

"I'm Ten." For him, it's obvious, but it doesn't seem to be for you, given the way you look at him. He joins you, hands buried in the pockets of his jeans and he smiles, admiring your face. As beautiful as in his memories. "Your soulmate ?" From beneath his t-shirt, he pulls out a necklace with a ring in place of the pendant. The ring of your dream. The one your soulmate used to ask you to marry him.

"Oh my god." You are at loss of words, you didn't think he would find you that fast, or at all. "How ? How did you know it was me without seeing me first ?" He invites you to sit down, and you oblige.

"I found the ring, and the shop's business card. Cyan explained everything to me, and maybe I found a way to get your address. Afterwards it was quite simple. I only had to wait for someone to come out, until I could find the right person. Until I could find you. Like Cyan said, as soon as I saw you, I knew. I could have come sooner, but I wanted us to be alone. So when I saw that the boy you seemed to be living with had not returned for a few days, I took advantage of the situation and you know the rest, I broke into your apartment when nobody answered the door."

"And what would have happened if my brother had been the one finding you ?" You cock your head to the side, and he winces at the thought.

"Well, guess that my eleventh life would end before officially meeting you." You laugh, not because of the situation, but because you can't imagine your brother being mean to anybody. "But because I'm lucky, you are here. And he is not." He sighs, eating from the plate of food he made. "So, what do you think about everything ? About the curse ?"

"That it was really idiot of you from stealing this necklace !" Ten lowers his head, but he knows there is no bite to your words. "But there's no way you could've known about the curse. The curse it's cruel, and to be honest, I'm glad I can't remember everything. I had one dream where you died hit by a car, and it took me a while to forget about the pain I felt at that moment. I don't want to live that again." You say in a low voice.

“I have seen a couple of your deaths, and I agree, it’s not a pain I want to feel ever again.” Ten lost his cheeky smile at his own words, and your heart aches at the thought of having to live more than one death again. “But I guess we don’t have the choice, as we still have a life to live before our happily ever after.” You almost forgot that you still have to die once before you two can fully be happy. That’s a bummer, really.

"Is there anything we can do to change our fate ?" At your question, Ten sighs, shaking his head. "Yeah, I guess it was still worth asking."

"I asked Cyan," Ten starts, "but she said that unfortunately there was nothing we could do to change anything. I guess all we can do right now is to be extra careful with our surrondings, and try to stay as safe as possible."

You get up from your chair, Ten's plate in your hand to put it in the sink and you turn, back against the counter. "I mean, I'm always safe, but can I say the same for you ? You will have to keep your thieving hands to yourself." Ten laughs, and it sounds like music to your ears, and you begin to understand what Hansol had told you in the car. "Stay here. I'll keep your ass in lane."

And keep him in lane is what you did.

For a full month, you found things to keep Ten occupied so that he wouldn't fall back into his bad habits, so that he would not regret agreeing to move in with Hansol and you. It was complicated at times, but Ten always found a way to cheer you up, or make you think of something other than your terrible fate.

And today will be no different.

You wake up in a room that is unknown to you, after a night full of bits and pieces of memories that are forgotten as soon as you open your eyes. The rays of sunshine warm the bare skin of your legs in a pleasant way, but it is not as pleasant as Ten's body heat. His chest against your back, and his arm around your waist, you can't move but you don't mind. Ten and you are polar opposite but you didn't need a lot of time to adapt to him, to his presence, to his antics. You couldn't imagine your life without him anymore.

"Good morning, my love." Ten whispers, lips against your ear. Chills run down your spine, and you turn around to nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his sweet scent. "Come on, your mother is going to murder me if you don't get down on time." He rubs his hand up and down your back under your shirt, and you huff. Until today, you would have never thought it was possible to love someone as much as you loved Ten.

"But I want to stay here." Your whine only makes Ten laugh and he hugs you tighter. Your heart feels warm, and so so at peace. In his arms, you forget about everything. Nothing matters except Ten, and the amount of love he has to give.

"You don't have the choice. Go, we'll find each other in a couple of hours." He kisses the top of your head and you get out of bed reluctantly. You put on the sweater he wore the day before and you leave the room, blowing him a kiss.

Today is an important day. Not for you, but for your brother. It's his wedding, and after months of preparation, you're happy to see the end of it. Even if you are apprehensive of seeing your older brother leave and spend the rest of his days with someone he will have to force himself to love, you are happy at the idea of having the apartment for you. You find your mother in one of the many rooms of the country house, and she doesn't waste a minute getting you to work. Between going back and forth to the other rooms, and your own preparations, you can't see the past two hours, you don't even have time to think about Ten or check your phone to see if he tried to contact you.

Ten is already seated in the church when you enter, followed closely by your mother who makes sure everything goes well. He rises when he sees you and your heart stops. He looks absolutely perfect with his expensive black suit, and with his blond hair. He smiles when you approach, whispering a few compliments that you can barely hear over the conversations around you. He takes your hand to give it a kiss, noticing the ring that you haven't removed since he gave it to you when you met. Not that your are engaged or anything, it is only a small reminder of your history, of your love.

“You look stunning.” He says, and you sit beside him, already feeling your cheeks burning. You nudge him in his side, and he huffs softly.

"Shut up, idiot, that's not the place." He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing, but fortunately enough he does not have time to answer because the bride enters the church. You get up, and instead of watching her, you focus solely on Hansol. He looks uncomfortable in his suit, his bangs sticking to his forehead from the sweat, and he moves from one foot to the other.

"He looks like he is ready to pee himself." You could have whack him behind the head if your mother was not watching you, and if you weren't in a church.

"You would be in the same state than him if you had to marry someone that was not your soulmate because your parents are selfish assholes." you mutter, and you feel Ten's arm around your waist. He knows how much the situation bothers you.

"It'll be fine, don't worry. We'll find a way for him to meet his soulmate, and maybe his wife wouldn't mind having hers too." You nod, maybe you could do something for the both of them to be happy. Maybe it could be another project for Ten and you to avoid any kind of imminent death with any kind of dangerous situation Ten could bring to you.

"Yes, we'll find a way." You whisper as you sit down to watch the rest of the celebration. The vows are beautiful, but they are not sincere, and you almost expect Hansol to run out of the church but he doesn't. He kisses his bride, and they leave with the applause of the guests. "Come on, let's go pretend to be happy for them, and maybe get drunk."

Ten is more than fine with that, so he takes your hand and gets out of the church behind your family. The party takes place in the garden of the country house, and the least you can say is that it is magnificent. Well it is normal with the amount of money invested in a single marriage. A forced one at that.

The toast is rather quick, with a few memories shared by the bridesmaid and the groomsman. "Well that was awkward." Ten says, a glass of champagne in hand. You wonder how much your mother had paid your brother's best friend to keep his speech pg13. Because you know how bad and nasty some of their memories together are.

"She looks stupid when she forces herself to laugh. And Hansol looks like an imbecile standing like that. Poor kids." You sigh, gulping the rest of your own glass of champagne. "It's really sad. Especially now that I have you, that I know how good it feels to be reunited with your soulmate. I don't even want to think how they are feeling."

The boy makes you turn, cupping your face in his hands. You've never seen so much love in someone's eyes, and it makes your heart beat so much faster, so much stronger. "I love you so much y/n. The curse sucks, but do you have any idea how lucky I feel when I think about all of the lives we had together, and the lives we'll have in the future ? I could never have asked for a better soulmate, you are everything I ever wanted and even more." Ten looks like he has more to say, but he closes his mouth.

"I love you even more, Ten. Curse or not, we are lucky enough to be on this earth at the same time, every time and that's all that matters to me. Don't think about anything else." Of course, he doesn't know about the book of colours, or the alternate reality. The less he knows, the better. Right now, you content yourself with his presence. "Enjoy the moment."

Ten smiles back, hand reaching to run through your hair and he kisses you gently. Every time he kisses you, it's like a fire lights up in the pit of your stomach. It's addicting. He licks your bottom lip, and you are ready to oblige when you feel a hand on your shoulder. "Have a little decency. You'll kiss Ten at your wedding." As much as you are annoyed at your mother for interruptiong the kiss, you don't mind her comment one bit. It is actually nice to think of yours and Ten's wedding. The one you never had the chance to have even after so many lives together. Maybe the next could be the good one ?

"She hates me. She is always here when I'm trying to be a good boyfriend by showing you my love." You roll your eyes, taking a step away from him, and he backhugs you right away, watching as the newly weds dance for the first time together.

Ten never leaves your side all day, except to go and grab you another glass of champagne, or wine. And yes, maybe that by the end of the evening, you are feeling warm and tipsy. Ten is as tipsy as you are, laughing out loud every time he sees Hansol with his phone under the groom's table, or when he tramples your feet every time he lures you onto the dance floor.

The hangover is going to be long and painful, but you don't care. You bath in the warmth of Ten's body, and for the first time ever, you feel happy, truly happy. And you don't want the night to end. But it has to.

"Let's head to bed." Ten smiles, lips against the skin of your neck.

The way to the room is pretty dangerous and long, mostly because of the stairs and your lack of sense of direction. Ten clings to your arm, laughing softly, complimenting everything from the walls to the frames, and even the door handles. You try to open several doors before finding the one of your room, and you scream, victorious.

"Oh shit." You mutter when you hear the guest in the next room groaning. "Sorry to whoever you are, it was not me." You enter the room, and without even taking the time to undress, you drop on the bed. He lies down next to you, turning on his side to put his face on your chest, and you thread your fingers through his blonde hair. You want to open your mouth, say something, but the silence is comforting. And soon you hear his breathing calm down. Ten is asleep. You close your eyes, and fall into a deep slumber fairly quickly, probably because of the alcohol.

When you wake up the next morning, you are surprised to feel the comforter covering your body, and the cushion under your head, because in your memories, you fell asleep across the bed, Ten against you. When you open your eyes, a sob leaves your lips. The light is too intense, but it is nothing against the migraine that keeps you from thinking.

"Ten ?" You swallow, your mouth is dry and feels like cotton. You turn your head cautiously, and you smile softly. A bottle of water is placed next to a bottle of aspirine on the bedside table. You straighten to swallow one of the pills, your eyes focusing on the note next to the lamp.

"My love, first of all, I want to apologize for the words that you are about to read. And I really hope you can understand. The last two months with you have been incredible, I could never have asked for more. I do not know if I have ever been as happy as I am since I met you. Last night made me realize that even if I love you more than anything in the world, we cannot be together. We will not have our happy ending in this life, that's why I decided to leave. I can't imagine losing you, seeing you die before my eyes without being able to change the course of things. And I don't want to have to think about the pain you might feel if I died in your arms. I only ask you for one thing: don't look for me. Be happy, don't put yourself in unnecessary danger, because we both know we will find each other again. I don't know where, or even when, but I know from the bottom of my heart that you will wait for me as much as it's needed, as I would wait for you until the end. Don't be mad, please. I love you. Ten."

The paper is stained by the tears running down your cheeks, and the ink is already starting to fade. Is that the pain of losing someone you love that you are feeling? The pain of a broken heart? Because if that's it, you refuse to feel it any longer. It's too much for you. You get up, unable to breathe. The room is too small, and too hot, it's stuffy. Everything is too much.

"I cant. I can't do it. Please take me back. I don't want this life if Ten is not in it. Please." You fall on your knees, not even blinking at the burn of the carpet. It hurts, it's unbearable. "Please, please." You close your eyes, lying on the side with your knees against your chest. "Bring me back !" You scream, your voice breaking into a painful sob. You are overreacting, you know that, but you can’t help, it hurts so much.

"It's not as bad as I thought it would be," Hansol says with a sigh. "living with her." You stop dead in your track to look at your older brother who came to visit you. It is not something you thought you would ever hear from him, but you are glad. Even if it's not the happiness he was expecting all his life, he still deserves it.

"Really ? That's good then." The older boy nods.

"Mostly because I took your advice. I had a talk with her about our respective soulmates." you lower your gaze on the ground for a second but you tell him to keep going, no matter how much it hurts to hear anything related to a soulmate. "We decided to stay together for the parents, to do what they expect us to do whilst trying to make things work with our soulmates. And so far, it's been great."

You turn to the door of the shop, key in your hand as Hansol puts his hand on your shoulder to force you to look at him. "He'll find you." You told Hansol about Cyan, and her book of colours, the time you had in the alternate reality, and even if at first he had a hard time believing you and your words, he finally came around after a few months.

"It's been a year already.. I don't know, I wonder if having hope is not as bad as losing it." When you woke up that one morning after you brother's wedding in the other reality, on your own and full of memories of Ten, you ran to the shop to ask Cyan if the life you had there was counted as one, or if you still had to see him die before your well deserved happy ending. You remember crying to the point of passing out when Cyan told you that yes, the time you had in the alternate reality was indeed counted a full life. You being back meant that you could finally have your happy ever after. But when ? You didn’t know.

And since then, you had started to see him everywhere. At the corner of a street, waiting in front of your apartment, but it was only your mind playing tricks on you every time.

"Don't lose hope. He promised, remember ?" You nod, and he kisses the top of your head. "I have to go, but I'll come back next week, alright ?" And with that, the boy leaves.

You finally open the door of the shop, and you open the lights ones after the other, inhaling the familiar scent of dust. A few months ago, Cyan contacted you to offer you a job in her shop. She thought that maybe it would be easier for you to find Ten. You had doubts at first, and yet you come to work every morning. Sitting behind the counter, you watch the passers-by behind the window, hoping that one day it will be Ten. But so far, no success.

Working at "Le bazar des rêves" is interesting. You like hearing stories behind some of the objects people are bringing in, even if most of them are heartbreaking, maybe you need that sort of pain to help you stay sane. You turn the pages of an old book when the door opens, but when you look up, no one is there. You shrug, the wind likes to scare you sometimes. Or maybe it is a spirit using an object as a vessel, who knows. Cyan told you some crazy stories.

"Excuse me, I found this ring with the adress of the shop ?" The voice makes you jump, not because of how familiar it sounds, but because you weren't expecting anyone. Your face break into a smile when your eyes land on a boy with long pink hair, and brown eyes ready to turn into a sunset of its own with the slightlest ray of sunshine.

"Oh, this ring is really special, would you like to hear its story ?" The boy seems incapable of taking his eyes off of you, you can practically hear the conflicts inside his heads as he tries to remember if he ever met you before, and why everything about you feels familiar. Like his body remembered something his brain couldn't.

"I'd like that, I guess." You beckon him to follow you in the backroom of the shop.

Hansol was right. Ten did promise.