#not me daydreaming about flying to milan

[pucksandpower]

Hi!! I always see fics of Charles being the one who isn’t believed he’s in a relationship (and i eat it all up cause it’s such a fun trope 😌) but what if it’s the reader’s turn. Like she’s a normal university student who always talks about her boyfriend but her friends and her fellow students just don’t believe her so Charles decides to surprise her and just be the proof. Thanks in advance!!

Daydream

Charles Leclerc x engineering student!Reader

Summary: You are living the dream … except no one actually believes that your boyfriend is really your boyfriend

You walk into class after the winter break with a sun-kissed glow and a new watch on your wrist.

Your friend Matteo notices it immediately and lets out a low whistle.

“Wow, that has to be the most realistic looking fake I’ve ever seen! Where did you get it?” He asks with a grin.

You roll your eyes but smile back. “It’s not a fake. Charles gave it to me for Christmas.”

Your friends barely give you a chance to get the last word out before they burst out laughing. You feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment and annoyance.

“Oh sure, I’m certain that your very real boyfriend, Charles Leclerc the Formula 1 driver, just happened to give you a €340,000 Richard Mille for Christmas,” your other friend Livia jokes.

“Come on guys, I’m serious! Charles and I have been dating for months now. We met when I was interning with Ferrari last year,” you insist.

But your friends just keep chuckling and shaking their heads in disbelief.

“If you were really dating an F1 driver, you would be posting cute couple-y pics all over Instagram. There’s no way anyone in that position could resist showing off a little,” Matteo argues.

You let out an exasperated sigh. You and Charles agreed to keep your relationship out of the public eye for now to avoid media scrutiny. But your friends just see this as further proof that you’re making it all up.

“Maybe he’s embarrassed to be seen with an engineering student,” Livia quips.

That stings a bit, even though you know she doesn’t mean for it to.

You slump down in your chair, absentmindedly fiddling with the exquisite watch on your wrist. You hadn’t realized it was worth so much when Charles gave it to you. The way his eyes lit up when you unwrapped it on Christmas morning was priceless. He was so excited to spoil you in any way he could. And now your friends think it’s just a cheap fake.

Charles is always doing ridiculously romantic things like flying you out on a private jet just so you can spend any free weekends together and sending you bouquets of roses bigger than you are. But no one believes that he’s really your boyfriend. To them, it’s all just part of an elaborate scheme you’ve concocted.

You met Charles when you were one of ten engineering graduate students selected for a prestigious internship with Scuderia Ferrari. You spent six months working in Maranello, learning from some of motorsport’s brightest minds.

Charles took an interest in you immediately. He would come by your workstation in the aerodynamics lab, peppering you with thoughtful questions about your projects. You would discuss aerodynamic principles and simulations for hours. Even ex-team principal Mattia Binotto said the two of you had a visible “synergy.”

Your internship had since ended but your relationship with Charles continued. You tried to play it cool at first, not wanting to seem overly eager. The day after you went back to study in Milan, he asked you out to dinner. Your first date lasted five hours as you talked endlessly about everything under the sun. You were amazed at how you never ran out of things to discuss.

Over the next few months, you grew closer and closer. Charles would take weekend trips to Milan just to see you, even if it was only for a few hours. He told you that you grounded him and reminded him that there was more to life than racing.

When he asked you to be his girlfriend after inviting you to the Monaco Grand Prix, you were shocked but ecstatic. You knew then that your hectic schedules won’t make it easy but Charles is unlike anyone you’ve ever known. He makes your heart race faster than a V12 engine.

You’re shaken from your reminiscing as Matteo waves a hand in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N! Come on, tell us where you got the watch. I want to get one too! It looks so identical to the real thing that we could probably sell it to some suckers on eBay.”

You shake your head with a huff. “Forget it, I’ll tell you all about my ‘fake’ boyfriend another time.”

For now, you’re just counting down the days until you can see Charles again.

No matter what anyone else may think, the two of you know that your love is real.

***

You’re humming along to your playlist as you drive Charles’ Purosangue on the winding roads leading to Milan. The SUV handles like a dream and you’re thoroughly enjoying the feeling of having 715 horsepower under your feet.

Your own trusty Fiat had broken down while visiting Charles in Monaco over the weekend. He insisted you take the Purosangue for the almost four hour drive back rather than waiting for a rental. You tried to decline at first, anxious about driving such an expensive vehicle. But Charles wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I don’t like the idea of you driving all that way alone in some random rental car,” he argued. “This will be much safer and more comfortable for you, mon amour.”

You finally relented, unable to resist when he turned on the charm. Charles gave you a lengthy tutorial of all the car’s features before sending you off with a lengthy kiss and plans for your next visit.

As you pull into the Politecnico di Milano parking lot, you realize just what a scene you’re about to cause. The other students are used to seeing you in your almost ten-year-old Fiat, not a glittering metallic Ferrari.

Sure enough, jaws drop and whispers follow you as you step out of the driver’s seat. Matteo quickly spots you from across the lot and comes jogging over eagerly.

“No way! Is that ... is that a Purosangue?” He gapes. “What are you doing with that?”

“Funny story actually. My car broke down when I was visiting Charles in Monaco last weekend. So he let me borrow this while mine is in the shop.”

Matteo stares at you blankly. “Visiting Charles ... in Monaco?” He throws his head back and laughs. “Your dedication to this bit is honestly impressive, Y/N. But there’s no way that the Charles Leclerc just gave you his Ferrari to drive back to Milan.”

You sigh but you’re determined not to let Matteo get under your skin this time. “Believe what you want. But I had an amazing weekend with my boyfriend before heading back to reality today.”

You head into class, Matteo trailing behind you, still shaking his head in disbelief. Livia immediately jumps up when she sees you.

“Shut up, is that really a Ferrari outside?” She gasps. You nod nonchalantly and take your seat.

“Y/N here is trying to convince us that her boyfriend let her borrow it over the weekend,” Matteo says with an exaggerated eye roll.

“You do realize those start at €390,000 right?” Livia says. “Why on earth would Charles Leclerc of all people let you drive his brand new ultra luxury SUV around?”

You throw your up hands in indignation. “Maybe because he’s my boyfriend and he wanted to help me out! Why is that so hard for you guys to believe?”

But instead of listening to you, other classmates join the conversation and chime in with their own theories about why you suddenly have a Ferrari.

“Maybe she rented it to play a prank on everyone,” suggests Liam.

“No way,” Eva argues. “Maybe she got a big inheritance? Some distant rich relative died and left their fortune to Y/N?”

You groan internally. But before you can respond, your professor walks in and instructs everyone to take their seats.

Through the lecture, you catch people whispering and pointing discreetly at you. By the time class ends, you just want to go home and video chat with Charles about your frustrating day.

As you pack up your things, Livia comes over. “So have you thought about what you’ll tell people when they see you getting out of that Ferrari for the foreseeable future?” She asks.

You blink at her. “The truth? That Charles loaned it to me while my car is in the shop,” you say slowly.

She pats your shoulder. “Come on Y/N, the joke was funny at first but now it’s just getting sad. No one actually believes that you’re dating Charles Leclerc and driving his cars around. Just tell us where you really got it so we can all move on from this weird fantasy life you’ve constructed.”

You stand up abruptly, shoving your notebook in your bag. “It’s not a fantasy,” you spit sharply. “It’s my real life and I’m sorry you can’t accept that. But I don’t need to convince you or anyone else.”

You storm out of the classroom, blinking back frustrated tears.

Pulling out your phone, you text Charles.

I miss you. My friends still think I’m making this all up. I can’t wait to see you in Spain next race.

Charles texts back immediately.

Not as much as I miss you. Don’t worry about what other people think, we know our love is real.

And you looked so hot driving my car 😉

You smile down at your phone, comforted by his words. You may never get your friends and classmates to believe your relationship, but as long as you and Charles know the truth, that’s all that truly matters.

Sliding back behind the wheel of the shiny Ferrari, you feel your stress melt away. Who cares what anyone thinks? You have an amazing boyfriend who trusts you with his most prized possessions. And someday when you and Charles are ready to share your love with the world, everyone’s jaws will drop in disbelief.

For now, you’ll just enjoy the ride.

***

It’s nearly time for summer break and you’re sitting outside with Matteo, Livia, and some other friends, soaking up the sunshine.

“We should all go backpacking around the Greek islands in August!” Suggests Livia. “We could start in Athens, then ferry to Mykonos, Santorini, and end in Crete. Who’s in?”

Everyone voices their enthusiasm for the idea. Then Matteo turns to you. “How about it, Y/N? Take a break from your ‘boyfriend’ and come adventuring with us common folk.”

You take a deep breath and stir your coffee, debating on how to break the news. “That sounds amazing but I already have plans for the summer.”

“Oh yeah? Going home to see your family?” Matteo asks.

You take a deep breath. “Actually, Charles and I are going on a vacation for a few weeks.”

Your friends erupt into laughter.

“A holiday? With Charles Leclerc?” Livia giggles. “Girl, your fantasies are really taking off lately!”

You frown in annoyance. “I’m serious. Charles chartered a yacht and everything. I wish you could see how excited he is for our first big trip together. He’s been planning it for months.”

Livia pats your hand gently. “Sweetie, we know you’re probably feeling financial pressure with school and all. You don’t have to lie about going off on some glamorous vacation. If you can’t afford to join us in Greece, just say so.”

You stare at her in disbelief. “This isn’t about money. Charles and I have been looking forward to this since the start of the season! I’m sorry that our relationship is still so unbelievable to you.”

Your aggravation must show on your face because Matteo holds up his hands appeasingly. “Look, I’m sure whatever you end up doing this summer will be great. But clearly this whole Charles charade has gone too far. It’s time to come clean.”

You stand up abruptly, grabbing your things. “I don’t need to come clean about anything. My relationship with Charles is real, whether you choose to believe it or not.”

You storm off fuming. Your friends’ outright refusal to even entertain the notion that you could be dating Charles is so patronizing and demeaning. Do they really think so little of you?

That night, you vent to Charles over FaceTime about the conversation.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard for them to believe me! I know we’re not exactly a super conventional couple but it’s like they think I’m delusional,” you sigh.

Charles gives you a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry they’re being like this, mon cœur. But try not to let it upset you too much. We know the truth about our love. That’s what matters.”

You nod, cheered as always by his encouragement. “You’re right. I’m just so excited for our trip! Sailing around the Mediterranean with you all to myself? It’s going to be a dream.”

Charles grins. “Oh I can’t wait either. The yacht has a hot tub on deck under the stars. I want to make sure it’s just as magical as you deserve.”

You spend the rest of the call discussing your vacation itinerary and plans for when your families will join you in Sardinia.

Charles reassures you again not to worry about what others think.

“Soon we’ll share our love with the world. But for now, let’s just focus on us,” he says softly.

By the time you hang up, your frustration has faded. Matteo and Livia may not believe you but in a few short weeks you’ll be cruising the bright blue Mediterranean with the man of your dreams.

The day finally comes for your trip to begin. As Charles helps you aboard the sleek yacht, you forget all about your friends. They don’t know him like you do. And they definitely don’t know how he kisses you goodbye at the airport or the special way his eyes light up when he says “I love you.”

This vacation will be everything you’ve been dreaming of. And you know Charles will do whatever it takes to make it unforgettable.

As the yacht pulls away from the marina, the only thing on your mind is the blissful weeks ahead with your love. Everything else fades blissfully into the background.

***

You walk with the group of engineering students through the halls of Maranello, thrilled to be back at the Ferrari factory. You did your internship here last year but walking around still feels surreal.

As you pass the simulator room, you hear someone call your name.

“Y/N! Hold on a second!”

You turn and see Gianni, one of the simulator engineers you befriended during your internship. He jogs over holding a sleek black ring.

“Charles left this after his session the other day,” he presses the familiar band into your palm. “Can you get it back to him?” Gianni asks.

You grin, turning the ring over in your hands. Charles hates taking off his Oura fitness tracker but has to for simulator runs.

“Of course, I’ll give it back to him when I’m in Monaco.”

You turn back to your friends, expecting this to be the final push they need to believe you.

But Livia just rolls her eyes. “Come on Y/N, he is obviously in on this whole charade. I bet you convinced him to play along!”

The other students nod, chuckling. Your smile disappears.

“What? No, Gianni and I really worked together when I interned here! This isn’t some weird prank,” you insist.

Matteo pats your shoulder condescendingly. “It’s alright, you don’t have to keep pretending with us. We get it, you want people to think you’re dating Charles Leclerc. But it’s getting kind of sad now.”

You clench your fists in frustration as the group moves on. Why are they being so stubborn? You clearly know people here and have a real connection to Charles.

When you pass the aerodynamics lab, your mood lifts a bit. Your favorite team leader, Fabio, is there working on computational fluid dynamics simulations.

“Y/N! So great to see you back here!” He greets you warmly and pulls you into a friendly hug.

You chat with him for a few minutes, explaining about the visit. As you say goodbye, he adds, “Tell Charles I said hi when you see him this weekend!”

But Matteo just scoffs as you walk away. “Let me guess — he’s in on it too?”

You don’t even bother responding this time, too irritated. Why should you have to convince your so-called friends of anything? You don’t owe them proof when they’re clearly set on ignoring it.

As the tour concludes, Livia pulls you aside, her expression serious.

“Look Y/N, we’re a bit worried about you. All these stories ... it just seems unhealthy. We think you should talk to someone,” she says gently.

You gape at her. “Unhealthy? Because I mentioned my boyfriend a few times on a trip to his workplace? You guys are unbelievable.”

Livia frowns. “Come on, it’s more than that and you know it. The jewelry, the car, the traveling ... it’s all an elaborate fantasy life. We just want what’s best for you.”

You feel anger bubbling up inside you. Livia reaches for your arm but you jerk away.

“You want what’s best for me? Then start believing me! I love Charles and he loves me. I don’t need therapy just because you refuse to accept the facts,” you snap.

Livia looks taken aback. You don’t wait for her response, just turn on your heel and stalk away fuming.

You pull out your phone and call Charles, needing to vent. When he picks up, the sound of his voice instantly calms you.

Charles listens patiently as you recount the horrible field trip. “I’m so sorry they’re being like this, ma belle,” he soothes. “But you handled it well. Don’t let them make you question yourself.”

You sigh. “I just wish they could see how happy you make me. I hate that our love seems so unbelievable.”

“It’s their loss for not seeing what we have,” Charles replies. “Soon everyone will realize that I only have eyes for you.”

You chat for a while longer, feeling reassured. Your friends’ doubt used to make you sad but now it mostly just angers you.

You know the truth. This weekend when you fly to Monaco and fall asleep in Charles’ arms, what Matteo and Livia think won’t matter one bit.

The only thing that matters is the love between you and Charles.

And one day, both of you will make sure the whole world knows that it’s as real as it gets.

***

It’s Friday morning and you’re stuck in your Principles of Advanced Aerodynamics lecture, anxiously watching the clock.

The Italian Grand Prix weekend starts today but your professor refused to excuse you from class early. Which means you’re missing out on precious hours with Charles before free practice later today.

You resigned yourself to not seeing him until tonight when the classroom door bursts open.

And there stands Charles, looking unfairly handsome in a Ferrari branded polo and jeans.

“Sorry to interrupt professor,” Charles flashes a charming grin. “But I’m going to need to steal Y/N away for the weekend.”

He shoots you a playful wink and your heart melts.

Your classmates erupt in excited whispers as they realize that the Charles Leclerc is standing in front of them. Your professor’s lips are moving but no discernible sound comes out.

The professor struggles to find words for a moment. “You’re ... you’re Charles Leclerc!” He stammers.

Charles smiles humbly. “Yes sir. And as I’m sure you know, the free practice for the Italian Grand Prix starts today. I’ll need to have my good luck charm there with from the very start.”

He extends his hand to you.

You grab your bag, legs wobbling as you make your way to the front. Charles wraps a supportive arm around your waist.

“You see professor, Y/N is my biggest supporter. My results improve dramatically when she’s present. So surely any Ferrari fan would agree that she must be trackside all weekend?” Charles urges charmingly.

The professor nods mutely before seeming to find his voice again. “Yes, of course! We certainly want the best results for Ferrari here at home. Y/N, you’re excused for the day. If you give me just a moment ...” He rummages through his bag with shaking hands and pulls out a Ferrari phone case.

“Would you mind?” He asks sheepishly.

“Not at all,” Charles smiles, taking the case and scrawling his signature across it with a provided permanent marker.

Your professor looks ready to faint. “Thank you so much. Enjoy the race weekend. Forza Ferrari, sempre!”

Trying not to laugh, you quickly gather up the rest of your things. Your friends watch wide-eyed as Charles takes your hand.

“Ready, mon amour?” He asks.

When you nod, he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you passionately in front of the entire class.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your lips.

You cling to him, dizzy from the kiss. “Not as much as I missed you. I can’t believe you came here just to pick me up.”

Charles caresses your cheek. “I’ll always come for you. Now let’s get going to Monza. I want to show you how much I appreciated your good luck texts before practice.”

He keeps your hand clasped firmly in his as you make your way outside. When you glance back through the windows, your classmates are still staring after you in stunned disbelief.

Once you’re in the familiar 488 Pista, you finally let out the laugh you’ve been suppressing. “Did you see the looks on everyone’s faces? I thought Professor Mancini was actually going to faint.”

Charles grins. “I know dramatic gestures aren’t usually my style but I wanted them to see once and for all that you’re mine.”

He lifts your intertwined hands to his lips. “No more doubting our love after today. And I meant what I said — you’re my good luck charm, Y/N. Having you here this weekend means everything.”

You smile up at him softly. “I’m just happy I can be here to support you.”

He kisses you deeply, still parked outside of the Politecnico, not caring who sees. And you know without a doubt that this amazing man and your once-in-a-lifetime romance are completely real.

The rest of the day flies by in a blur of excitement. In between practice sessions, Charles takes any chance he can to steal moments alone with you in his driver’s room.

His tender kisses and whispered reminders of his love send your heart racing faster than an F1 car.

***

It’s race day in Monza and you’re walking through the paddock hand-in-hand with Charles. His physio and press officer trail behind you both as Charles waves to the cheering Tifosi in the stands.

Suddenly, you hear voices calling your name.

You look over to see Matteo and Livia leaning over the fence, trying to get your attention.

“Y/N! We’re so sorry we didn’t believe you!” Livia shouts.

“Please come talk to us!” Yells Matteo. “We feel awful about everything!”

You stop short, conflicting emotions swirling through you. Charles senses your hesitation and squeezes your hand supportively.

“What do you want to do, mon cœur?” He asks. “I can try to get them paddock passes last minute if you want to talk.”

You bite your lip. Part of you wants them to witness first-hand the depth of your relationship with Charles. To show them just how wrong they were to mock and belittle your love.

But another part of you is still hurt by their stubborn refusal to believe you all this time. Do they really deserve VIP paddock access after the way they treated you?

“I don’t know, Charles ... they were so patronizing about our relationship for so long. I’m not sure they deserve the reward of paddock access after demeaning my feelings,” you reply.

Charles nods thoughtfully. “I understand. It’s completely up to you, of course. But it could be nice for them to see up close just how real our love is. Watching us together will help it finally sink in.”

You feel a smile tugging at your lips. Charles does make an appealing case ...

“Alright, I can’t say no to that adorable face,” you laugh and kiss his cheek. “But maybe keep them waiting a bit first as payback!”

Charles grins mischievously. “I think that can be arranged.” He pulls you in for a passionate kiss, dipping you backwards dramatically.

The crowd erupts in cheers and whistles, a wild and beautiful sea of Rosso Corsa.

When you come up for air, you see your friends watching open-mouthed from the stands. Charles winks at them over your shoulder before leading you away, his arm curled firmly around your waist.

Several hours later, Matteo and Livia finally receive their paddock passes. They rush over to you right away, profusely apologizing again.

“Seeing you and Charles together in class was unbelievable, but this ...” Matteo trails off, darting around at the bustling paddock with wide eyes. “You really are dating an F1 driver!”

You exchange an amused look with Charles. “Yes, that is what I’ve been trying to tell you for many months now,” you laugh.

Livia hugs you tightly. “I’m so sorry for ever doubting you. But after today, we’ll never question your relationship again.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulder. “I hope after witnessing our love up close, you will see there is nothing Y/N wouldn’t do for me, just as I would do the same for her.” He gazes down at you tenderly and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You and Charles both laugh as your friends turn red. “We’re really happy for you two,” mumbles Matteo. “Hopefully we can all start over now.”

Charles smiles kindly. “Of course! Y/N’s happiness is what matters most to me and I know how important her friends are to her.”

You feel yourself falling even more in love with this man and his endless patience and compassion.

The race keeps you on the edge of your seat from start to finish. When Charles takes the top step on the podium, you and your friends scream loudly enough to be heard in Milan.

That night at the celebration, Charles gives a sweet toast about how your love inspires him.

Matteo and Livia watch with tears in their eyes.

“Wow, when you said your boyfriend was romantic, you really meant it,” Livia whispers.

“I told you, Charles is one-of-a-kind. I’m so lucky to be his and to be loved by him.”

Charles comes over and pulls you into his arms, nuzzling your hair. “I’m the lucky one, mon ange.”

He stops and takes both of your hands, gazing into your eyes intently. “I never want you to doubt what we have, Y/N. You are everything to me. My whole world.”

Matteo shakes his head in wonder as he takes in the pure love clearly shining in both of your eyes. “We’re so sorry we ever doubted that what you have is real. Seeing you together, it’s obvious your love is straight out of a fairytale.”

You grin up at Charles, your heart overflowing. With his kisses still lingering on your lips and surrounded by friends who finally believe, you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Now everyone can see your love just as clearly as the two of you always have.

***

Today is the day you’ve been working towards for years — your graduation from the Politecnico di Milano with your Laurea Magistrale in Aeronautical Engineering.

The auditorium is packed with proud families as you line up with your classmates, dressed in formal robes and caps. Charles insisted on coming, despite it being right before the start of a triple header. And having him here means the world to you.

When your name is called, you grin widely as Charles’ cheers rise above the polite applause of the audience. He gives you a standing ovation, not caring that he is blocking everyone’s view.

His pride and support brings happy tears to your eyes. You blow him a discreet kiss and see him pretend to catch it, pressing his hand to his heart.

After the ceremony ends, you rush straight into Charles’ arms. He swings you around then kisses you deeply. “I’m so proud of you, mon amour! All of your hard work has paid off.”

You hug him tight, overwhelmed with emotions. “Having you here today, supporting me every step ... it’s the best gift I could ask for.”

Charles strokes your hair tenderly. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. But I do have one more surprise ...”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope with the unmistakable Ferrari seal.

Handing it to you, Charles bounces excitedly on his toes. “Go on, open it!”

With shaking hands, you open the letter and read the words offering you a position as a Junior Aerodynamics Engineer with Scuderia Ferrari.

“Charles, what ... how ...” you stammer in shock.

He smiles widely. “Enrico Cardile was very impressed with the work you did during your internship as well as your thesis.”

You continue staring at the letter. “But I don’t want special treatment just because I’m your girlfriend. I want to earn a position at Ferrari on my own merits,” you say uncertainly.

Charles grasps your hands. “Mon ange, you know I would never influence the team’s decisions. They want you because of your skills, not our relationship. I only asked if I could deliver the news as a graduation gift when I found out.”

You bite your lip. “It’s just ... I don’t want anyone thinking that I didn’t earn this.”

“Listen to me,” Charles quickly gets serious. “You are the most talented, driven, and intelligent person I know. You’ve worked relentlessly for this and Ferrari recognizes that. Please don’t doubt for one second that you deserve this.”

His sincere words dissolve your concerns. He’s right — you interned successfully with the team already. You can do this.

You throw your arms around him again. “Then I accept the offer! I’m going to be a Formula 1 aerodynamicist!”

“You will be incredible, Y/N. I can’t wait to see you thriving there. You’re going to change the world with that beautiful mind of yours.”

You cling to him, overwhelmed with emotions. “I couldn’t have done any of this without your love and support. You gave me the strength to keep pursuing my dreams.”

Charles tips your forehead to his, eyes shining. “And you gave me the gift of true love. My life is so much richer with you in it.”

He kisses you until you’re both smiling too widely to continue. Taking his hand, you turn to look out at the gathered families, classmates, and professors mingling around.

Just months ago, no one believed your relationship with Charles was real. But here you stand, ready to take on the world together.

Your storybook romance has grown into an unshakable partnership.

As Charles squeezes your hand, you know that the next chapter of your lives will be even better. You can’t wait to build your future with this amazing man — both on and off the track.

***

10 years later

You take a deep breath as you walk into the familiar lecture hall at the Politecnico di Milano. Looking out at the eager young students, you remember sitting in their place not so long ago. Back when you were just starting your engineering studies, never dreaming you would one day return as a guest lecturer.

Charles insisted on coming with you today and you scan the room until you spot him sitting inconspicuously in the back row, trying his hardest not to draw attention to himself. He gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

“Good morning, everyone. For those who don’t know me, I am Y/N Leclerc — Head of Aero Development at Scuderia Ferrari and former student right here at Polimi.”

As you start your lecture on the aerodynamic theory behind Ferrari’s latest championship-winning car, you easily slip back into the familiar rhythms of university life.

Discussing complex simulations and wind tunnel testing with these eager minds reminds you of the days you were in their shoes.

You can hardly believe it’s been 10 years since you sat in this very room, never imagining the incredible journey ahead.

After joining Ferrari, you and Charles found ways to balance your personal and professional lives through compassion and communication.

Winning your first World Championship together was a euphoric blur of champagne and ecstatic team celebrations. Being the first female Director of Aerodynamics in Formula 1 was daunting but Charles never stopped believing in you.

When he got down on one knee after winning in Monza and asked you to be his wife, it was one of the happiest moments of your life. Planning a wedding while chasing championships was no easy feat but your passion for racing and each other kept you going.

Now, five championships later, you’ve settled into a blissful rhythm as partners both on and off the track. There were tough times and painful losses but coming home to each other’s arms helped erase the remnants of any bad day.

As you wrap up the lecture and open the floor to questions, a female student raises her hand. “As a woman working in F1, what’s the best advice you can give aspiring engineers like me?”

You smile, thinking back on your own self-doubts starting out. “Don’t be afraid to take up space and make your voice heard,” you tell her. “Formula 1 needs more brilliant women like you. If you love the science and the cars, pursue this career fiercely no matter what anyone says.”

The student thanks you excitedly and you make a mental note to talk to Charles about establishing an engineering scholarship for female students.

After the lecture finishes, Charles comes up to greet you with a tender kiss. “You were incredible up there. I’m so proud to call you my wife.”

You kiss him back, still just as dizzyingly in love as that first date all those years ago. “I couldn’t have done it without my biggest cheerleader here supporting me.”

As you walk hand-in-hand back to the car, you think about how far you’ve come together.

A storybook romance, successful careers, and most importantly, an unbreakable partnership built on love and trust.

When Charles said your love would overcome any doubt, you never imagined how right he would be.

But now, as the Italian sunlight glints off your matching wedding bands, you know the best is still yet to come.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc drabble

[tyxoxo]

One Night Only - VII.

ch.6, m.list

Jeno x fem!reader series

Genre: slow burn, fuckboy!jeno, enemies to lovers/hate fucking fwb! bookstore jeno → model jeno au, 00’ dream + mark + jun (seventeen) character inserts

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: only suggestive themes in this chapter, jeno is mean, cocky, stubborn, this relationship is extremely toxic (i dont condone, this is pure fiction),

tagging: @sukistrawberry @mingiandbaconjam @baecobies @produmads @glitchfiles @devinitysann @jamy99hoe @pradajaehyun

a/n: don’t come for me! i know it’s been a minute 🫣

**edit: forgot to write that jeno changed his clothes. just imagine him in his all black fit from Milan!!:)

Chapter 7

He had to have been the most foul person to ever step foot on this subway, thinking he could get away with trying to put his hands in between your thighs. It was painfully obvious that he was attempting to get to where you secretly needed him the most.  

“Jeno…” The way his name fell from your hushed lips made him go wild. Even if you were going to tell him to stop, it wouldn’t keep him from daydreaming about spinning you around to face the subway doors, letting everyone on the other side watch the two of you fly by as he took you against the foggy windows.

Even bonus points if he managed to rip your flimsy flannel open as he fucked you from behind, breasts pressed against the plexi glass from his relentless thrusts.

He was aware you weren’t wearing a bra underneath; practically begging to be exposed.

You whispered out his name again, not even realizing that you snapped him out of his wild daze.

“Hmm?” He hummed against your ear, causing your back to arch and ultimately intensify the way your ass fit perfectly into his groin. 

“We can’t do this here…” You fought against your desires, trying your hardest to not let your words drift off into a moan. There was no way the other subway-goers couldn’t hear you. Your tone was quiet enough to hear a pin drop but everyone was practically squished against one another, you and Jeno included. The only thing that set you apart from these strangers, was your guilt from struggling to behave.

“Why not?”

“There’s kids in here…”

He briefly turned his head from the front of the train to the very back. Due to his one-track mind, of course he didn’t notice.

“Fuck…” Disappointment was evident in his expression, forehead dropping onto your shoulder from the realization that he was cock-blocked.

You purposely dropped your eyes down at both of your shoes, knowing the civilians were probably disgusted, and would maybe even consider reporting you to the nearest authorities; this was Seoul after all. 

Regardless, Jeno kept his claim on you, making sure his hands were locked on your waist for the entire train ride. 

~

“So…what is there to know?” You asked as the two of you scoured the outdoor flea market. You didn’t know of any other way to start a conversation, but you hoped something would come out of it.

Neither of you were on the hunt for anything in particular, but the multitude of booths gave you both plenty to look at.

From antique’s, to handcrafted jewelry, to “hand-me-down’s” in a stand alone thrift section, there could be something worth buying. 

“What would you like to know?” Jeno knocked his shoulder into your own as a signal for “shoot it.” But you were certain that he had no idea how many details you wanted to discover. 

“Well, you seem pretty tame at the moment, which is why i asked.” 

He scoffed at your statement, knowing that he was so close to causing a scene on the subway. But he could care less about the old farts or the young bloods. He was never one to respect authority.

“I mean yeah, since we’re very well acquainted now.” He said his snarky comment rather loudly, to which you gave a rather loud and abrupt “shhh.”

A few shoppers turned to view your utterance, to which you quickly diverted your eyes from the sudden onslaught of attention. 

“Hmm, let me guess. You want to know why I'm being so nice right now. Or maybe you want to know when I'm gonna ditch you…”

He looked up towards the sky as he listed his malicious theories; a shit way to ponder on all of the possibilities.

You could only shake your head from your decision to initiate talk, but you couldn’t help but remain curious.

“You know you’re like a billion red flags right?” You snapped back with something only half as presumptuous; never quite on your “A” game with someone as forward as him.  

“Yeah, and what does that say about you?” He said with a smirk. It was becoming increasingly difficult to not tug on your lips with every word he spoke.

Sadly, he was right.

You were just as unstable as him, to all of a sudden be around him more often than your old self would’ve wanted to. 

“That I should be ashamed of myself…” 

Somehow that amused the both of you. And hearing him laugh for the first time, actually stirred something within you, even his eye smile making your cheeks turn scorching hot.

“But seriously though, what made you want to work at a bookstore, doesn’t seem like your kind of vibe. Having to be quiet all the time…”

“I mean, Renjun and I both wanted something lowkey and not super complicated. And could you imagine me in retail or fast food, sounds terrible right?” 

You covered your mouth as you imagined the scenario, entertained by his facial expressions and agreement with his own statement.

“I definitely couldn’t. But you should really treat Mark with more respect, he’s way too lenient with you, or any of us for that matter.”

You couldn’t help but scold Jeno, for all the times he was inconsiderate to your nothing-but-nice boss.

Jeno gave a sarcastic pout, and an aura of silence after catching sight of a ring at one of the many handcrafted jewelry booths. As he began to approach the tent, you inspected the banner attached to the front, reading “Brimstone Jewelry” with a Leviathan Cross situated on both ends. 

You followed behind him, hanging onto the back of his black jean jacket to keep up with his stride. 

As you stood side-by-side, you watched as he grabbed the grunge-inspired silver band, face showing interest in the decorative etchings. 

Eventually, who you presumed to be the owner, approached the two of you, hoping Jeno would buy it. 

“You like it?” The woman had a unique look to her. Despite being middle-aged, she seemed to be just as lively as the younger demographic: with dyed red fringed hair, spiked cuffs, and an all black sheer dress. 

Jeno could only respond with a “mhm” and a subtle nod, raising the ring to get a good view of the sticker on the inside that gave the size. 

“Do you have this in a size 9?” 

“Yes! Let me get it out of my box!” The lady bent down to grab the container that was hidden underneath the table by a white drape sheet. In it, was the ring he had asked for, along with others that were just as edgy. 

It was noticeably bigger and once Jeno placed it on his right middle finger, you felt your knees buckle.

He looked so hot, with it on. Even though his black jean jacket covered the veins on his arms, you could see them branched out on his hands, complimenting the avant-garde design of the ring.

You hadn’t even realized that your mouth was hung open as he held up his hand in the sunlight, not until the lady smiled and laughed at your expression.

Jeno was oblivious until she spoke again,

“Are you guys a couple?” 

She was daring to ask such a thing, and you tried to gulp down the lump that formed in your throat like an aftershock.

Jeno placed his hand down, giving an obvious and shameless “why would you ask such a thing” look.

“No.” 

Jeno’s curt response, without a reassuring glance, made the air around you go cold, despite the relatively warm day.

What did you expect? And why did it make your entire body slump into a low-spirited posture? 

“Didn’t mean to intrude, young man. Just thought I’d ask because I have some really nice couple rings.” The lady gave a sympathetic bow, one that was ignored by Jeno as he tossed the ring on the table and walked off without you.

You were in disbelief, not only from his brusque actions, but from the entirety of the situation. It seemed like he retreated anytime your presence was known…did you even really exist in his mind? Or only when it benefited him? 

Of course, you were probably overanalyzing. But this was the second time he withdrew after the two of you engaged in such a way. 

You mentally shook your head of your inordinate thoughts, giving a delayed bow to the lady on behalf of your anarchic partner, if that even was the appropriate title. 

“How come you didn’t buy it?” You eventually caught up, with your subconscious never failing to make you grab a hold of his arm as the two of you walked. Surprisingly, he didn’t shrug you away, and you could honestly care less if he secretly hated it. 

“I don’t know. I just didn’t want to…” 

If you ended up following through with your spur-of-the-moment plan, you could no longer say that you didn’t have feelings for Jeno. All of the denial would be nonexistent from this point onward. 

Because the moment you decided to walk back up to that same booth, you would make it your mission to have Jeno fuck you with that ring on, one way or another.

“Where are you going?” He looked back after feeling you release the back of his jacket. 

“I’ll be right back. Can you find me something to drink and some shade, like frozen lemonade or something?” 

As you attempted to keep your whereabouts unknown, you were stopped in your tracks by Jeno’s firm grip on your wrist, causing you to whirl back around to face him. His jaw was clenched, probably due to your equivocal decision to go alone suddenly, especially in such a busy crowd.

“What?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

“I’m gonna go check something out, can you find me something to drink in the meantime?” You tried your best not to involuntarily point your head in the direction of your objective, fearing it would give your plan away. 

“Tell me.” 

“I said i’ll be right back!” 

Because of the increase in your tone and the attention drawn to the two of you now, Jeno had no choice but to let go. He seemed to walk away in the opposite direction, where you had both eyed a drink stand minutes prior. You continued your journey back to the jewelry booth, hoping the lady wouldn’t tell you to go away because of Jeno’s ill-mannered attitude. 

Surprisingly, she smiled upon seeing you step up again to her booth.

“Back again huh?” 

“Yeah I couldn’t stay away.” You offered an awkward laugh to fill the once-cold space.

“Could I buy that size 9 ring we looked at earlier?” 

“Of course! But may I ask…how come he won’t?” 

She seemed to be the nosy type, but for some reason you didn’t mind, even envying her audacious personality.

“Uh-uhm. It’s a surprise for him. He never tells me or shows me what he likes so I thought why not.” 

A terrible lie, one that she might see right through.

“Well, I must say it fits him. You guys look good together. Just make sure he treats you right…been there, done that.”

She spoke low as she put the ring in its own matte-black holder, assuming Jeno was nearby to hear.  

You bowed from her conscious advice after handing the money, to which she waved goodbye as she handed you the brown paper gift bag. 

The bag was adorned with the same Leviathan Cross sticker on both sides, indirectly foiling your plans to keep it a surprise. 

As soon as you left the booth, you took out your phone to see if he texted where he could possibly be. And there on your lockscreen was a single message.

2:27pm 

[jeno]: i’m at the drink stand we saw earlier. you should see a bunch of bright yellow chairs

[you]: ok, heading over now

It was impossible to hide the rush of excitement that forged within your body. You just knew he would love it, even if he tried to outwardly display annoyance from your persistence. 

You held the bag close to your body as you made your way to the stand, almost stumbling past a few people in the process.

There, in the distance, you saw him. And despite the toxicity, he took your breath away at every glance: the way he sat in the chair with the typical male leg cross—ankle up and resting on the opposite knee while scrolling through his phone made you grip the bag even tighter.

He had successfully fulfilled your request, with two large cups of what appeared to be frozen lemonade placed on the outdoor green mesh table.

It wasn’t until you got in arms-length distance that he looked up from his phone, eyes following the brown paper bag as you placed it on top of the table.

And once he looked from there and to your smug grin, he instantly knew. 

“What the fuck?” He leaned forward, switching to a normal sitting position simultaneously. 

His profanity garnered a mother with her two young children to cover their ears as she stood nearby ordering at the stand, but neither you nor Jeno cared about her own censoring. You began sipping the slushied drink through the straw as you shifted in the bright yellow chair, watching with a smile as he inspected the familiar sticker on the bag.

“Try it on again.” 

You spoke in between sips, not surprised to see him obeying your command within a second of your sentence.

After a hefty amount of rustling through the bag, he pulled out the matte-holder, and with it came the satisfaction of a lifetime.

As soon as he slipped it on his right middle finger, your mouth hovered over the straw, just like when you first saw him with it. 

He looked down at his hand with intrigue, and soon fixation as you scooted your chair over to him.

He sat frozen in his seat as you leaned over, chilled lips hitting his ear in two breaths,

“Now fuck me with it on…”  Where did all of your daringness come from? Not even you could answer that, but based on the rush of how he gathered all of your belongings and your wrist, he was determined to find out...

#nct dream fanfic #nct dream fanfiction #jeno x reader #jeno x you #jeno smut #nct dream x reader #feedback is appreciated <3

[chloe-spade]

The Glass Slipper Chapter 2: Sweet, Sweet Nightgale

It took Cater a while to get everything from purses to shoes to the girls' separate rooms. He was still very sore from the many bags that he carried, but it was nothing to him as he daydreamed about Malleus, about anything about him.

But it wasn't all silence for him as he could hear his step sisters speak with such venom when they returned. Complaining to Lady Rosalind as soon as they entered the door about a mysterious man talking with dirty, worthless Cater. It had grown annoying for the mice, but Cater couldn't care less, as he hums and danced to himself as he put everything away.

"He's still in love," Ruggie noted, "It must be contagious, I bet!"

"He's just in love," Deuce sighs, "It's not a disease it can be spread around, Ruggie."

"Not yet." Ruggie blurted, "I heard about what love can do to you."

"The good or the bad?" Riddle questioned.

"Does that matter?" Cater snapped out of his trance as he heard the girls' argument grow louder and louder. He quickly continued his work, trying to hide the fact he was daydreaming.

"And he just talked to Cater, Mother," complained Astrid, "he barely acknowlged us! And by us, I mean me! He should've paid attention to me!"

"No way," Elise huffed, "she means me, Mother! He's too princely to talk to her."

"He's barely princely if he's talking to Cater of all people!" Astrid scoffed, "I don't think any prince would even speak to him because..look at him! Dirty and such a stammerer. No prince would want that."

Cater gulped as he walked down the stairs so he can announce his completed job, but considering how they continued to mock and belittle him, he couldn't speak up. It then became an argument between the two girls, discussing who's the prettier one worth of the prince's love, which both kept losing somehow.

"My sweet daughters," Rosalind spoke, "both are you are just as gorgeous as the stars above us. There is no need for useless competition, my dears," Rosalind's eyes drifted towards Cater and grins at him, "Oh! Hello, Cater, I see that you are finished with your chores?"

"Yes. ma'am," Cater spoke, "am I interupting something?"

"Oh, no,no. Nothing of your concern, Cater." Roselind giggles, "but since you are done, you need to cook lunch for us. Then sweep the floors, and scrub them! Then sweep the entrance, so no dust is in the house. My sweet Pom-Pom's fur can't handle the dust, it'll ruin her pefect fur. You wouldn't want that, my dear Cater."

"No, ma'am."

"Now, girls, to the music room! We shall begins to our music lesson." Roselind ordered, leading the girls to the music room, leaving Cater all alone in the foyer.

"Now, not to break the mood," Ruggie spoke, "but I heard lunch and that reminds me that we should be eating something right now!"

"Is food just what you think about?" Deuce sighed.

"He is right," Cater hums. "We should make lunch, and besides, I got so much bread and I'm not letting those waste."

Cater walks into the kitchen and looks around, checking to see if they're any ingredients for what he planned to cook. Much to his relief, he found many to use, but knowing that the girls are in the music room, he puts the food on the counter.

"You know," Cater laughs, "I can just stay here and no one would tell me what to do in here."

✨

I’m as mild and as meek as a mouse

When I hear a command I obey

But I know of a spot in my house

Where no one can stand in my way

✨

"Where?" Kalim asked.

Cater picks up the mice and showed them a small corner, accompanied by a fireplace and a small cozy chair, covered in a nice blanket. He puts them on the table to give them a better view.

✨

In my own little corner

In my own little chair I can be whatever

I want to be

On the wing of my fancy

I can fly anywhere

And the world will open its arms to me

✨

Cater stood before the mice, before grabbing his broom, ready to reenact his imagination.

✨

I’m a young Norwegian prince or a milkmaid

I’m the greatest prima donna in Milan

I’m an heir who has always had his silk made

By his own flock of silkworms in Japan!

✨

"Silkworms? That's new!" Ace chuckled.

"But it is true," Cater beamed, "My father was a traveler, and one day he went over to Japan and gave me the most beautiful silk I have seen and felt. I would like that again."

✨

I’m a boy men go mad for, love’s a game

I can play

With a cool and confident kind of air

Just as long as I stay In my own little corner

All alone In my own

Little chair

✨

"Such a small but cozy place to be in," Deuce complimented, "You mean, I can be anyone I can be here?"

Cater nods, "Yes, anything you can be, you can be here. I've always done this to escape reality for just a small while. It's helped me a lot over the years."

✨

I can be whatever I want to be

I’m a thief in Calcutta

I’m a king in Peru

I’m a merman dancing upon the sea

I’m a hunter on an African safari –

It’s a dangerous kind of sport and yet it’s fun In the night

I sally forth to seek my quarry

And I find I forgot to bring my gun!

✨

"Oh no!" Kalim gasps.

"How does a hunter forget a gun?" Riddle mumbled, confused by it all.

✨

I am lost in the jungle

All alone and unarmed

When I meet a lioness in her lair!

Then I’m glad to be back In my own little corner

All alone In my own

Little chair

✨

Cater sits down on his chair and sighs as he rested on it. "That's what happens when my imaginations go while, huh? I scared myself with that one if I am honest." Cater laughs and gets up to start lunch.

"You do have a wild imagination," Riddle gulped, "I am now worried about it."

"Yeah, but look at Cater. After a well-deserved break, he's back up and kicking!" Ace convinced.

✨

An hour passed, Cater collected all the dust, leaving the dustpan by the door, and began scrubbing the floors.

"I can't believe it," Cater hummed, "I met the prince himself…he looked nothing as I imagined him to. But he's full of mystery…his eyes were so beautiful…" The mice watched from the ledge of the stair rail, talking among themselves.

"Cater's in love!" Kalim smiles. "That's so cute."

"That guy was the prince?…he looked different than I thought a prince would look like in books." Ace remarked, "but he is mysterious, I'll say that."

"It's nice to see Cater…so happy." Riddle spoke, looking at Cater, "it's a fresh sight to see."

The mice nod in agreement. What made things worse was Astrid's singing, which sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

"That's awful!" Deuce remarked, covering his ears, "what is that?"

"Evil stepsister Astrid's voice. Once you hear it, you wish it was from Pom-Pom instead." Ace answered.

Pom-Pom hissed as she heard the noise, finding it impossible to rest when something so horrible was in her ears.

✨

The pair-shaped tool

Oh sing sweet Nightingale

Sing sweet nightingale

High above me

✨

But as Pom-Pom strolled over to the stairs, a more melodic melody calmed her down. Her eyes gazed towards Cater, singing, as he was now in his little world.

✨

Sing sweet

Oh sing sweet

Nightingale

High above

Sing sweet nightingale

Oh sing sweet

Nightingale

High

✨

As he scrubs, he slowly began to imagine the prince, or he should say Malleus. He remembered his kindness towards him and the gentle touch when he holds on to Cater when he fell. Cater never felt so in love before, but he welcomed the feeling, a feeling that gave him happiness.

✨

Sing sweet nightingale

Oh sing sweet

Nightingale

Nightingale Sing

Oh sing sweet

Nightingale

Sing sweet

Oh sing sweet

Oh sing sweet

Oh sing

Nightingale

Oh sing sweet

✨

Cater stopped as he smell the dust, he turned to see Pom-Pom messing with it, leaving small footprints behind her. Cater could only groan as he cleaned her mess, keeping an eye on her in the process.

"You never cease to amaze me, Pom-Pom," Cater sighed, "to try to get me in trouble by making you messy. I get the others by why you must hate me too?" Pom-Pom licked her palm and lets out a meow. "Ah…come on, let's get you cleaned before Rosalind finds you."

Cater quickly went to the bathroom and cleaned Pom-Pom to perfection before getting rid of the collected dust outside, feeding the chickens and cooking dinner, and finally, cleaning the dishes and washing the clothes. The day ended with Cater closing his bedroom door and sighing.

"Well,well,well," laugh Lilia, "Has a rough day?" Cater jumped in his place and eyes charted back to Lilia, instantly glaring at him. Lilia was porched upon his only room's window, grinning like a menacing cat, with excitement in his eyes.

"uh..how did you get here?"

Cater questioned, "I know that my window's always locked when no one's in here."

"Tsk tsk, a fairy Godfather never reveals secrets, Cater. Now, speak of your day." Lilia asked, getting up from the window, "I heard that you had an exciting one."

Cater then grinned, laying down on his bed. "I met someone. He's so kind and sweet, and I should mention, very, very handsome? I mean, he is!" He laughs to himself, blushing.

"He's been in love ever since he met with the prince today," Riddle explained to Lilia, "Its all that he thinks about now."

"I still think it's super cute," Kalim commented.

"It is," Lilia agreed, "but I am mostly here to get a check on Kalim's magic while I was away. To see if there was a funny magic mishap I missed?"

"Oh! There was this time where Cater was tasked to paint the music room and Kalim used his magic," Ace started, "and then all the paint spilled all over Pom-Pom! It was still amazing."

"Oh, that's one I defiently missed," Lilia laughed, "I would adore that pompus cat getting what she deserved. Anything else?"

"Nothing that bad," Kalim mumbled, "just some accidental magical mishaps but I've done great this past year! I think it's a perfect improvement from last year."

"A big improvement from last year." "Riddle.."

"Well, I guess I don't have to worry about Kalim since you are are doing a good job keeping an eye on him for me." Lilia smiles, "but that's not the only reason I am here."

"It's not?" Cater got up from his bed.

"I heard that someone has a letter from a certain prince," Lilia teased, taking the letter from Cater's pocket, "that he hasn't opened yet?"

Cater blushes madly and just chuckles, "I was waiting until I was alone and when everyone else was asleep."

"Unfair," Ace pouted, "come on! What does it say? Now I'm actually curious."

"Yeah, same here," Deuce agreed, "You seem so in love when you saw him. I mean, you're still giggling about him."

"It was not that obvious," Cater defended, "no, it wasn't."

"Just read it!" Ace urges. Cater takes the letter from Lilia and opens the envelope, taking the papers out.

"It says:

Dear Special Guest

If you received this, that means I have personally given you my invitation. The invitation is for a royal ball that, by the time you read this, is two days. There could only be one reason why I gave it to you. And that is because I've fallen in love with you, and can't get you out of my head. Though, I apologize if I do seem sudden in my approach. But I do beg of you to attend so I can proclaim you as my one-to-be.

It'll brighten my day/night to see you there. I'd like to dance under the stars. I'm getting sidetracked, but my offer still stands.

From The Prince, Malleus Draconia."

"Ah, I can even imagine him saying it." Cater swoons, "Him? Falling for me? Such an odd thing for him to do. But I can't stop being happy."

"Then you shouldn't stop," Lilia grinned, "you should be delighted that someone has become smittened by you and look at you, Cater, gushing and swooning over Prince Malleus's means so much to him as much as that letter means to you."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm saying that you should see him tomorrow! Same place, same time." Lilia cheered.

"Yeah!" Kalim agreed, "If he sees you again, who knows how many butterflies you've spread." Cater blushes and sinks onto his bed.

"I should be writing a letter to him! But everything is downstairs." Cater gasped, "How am I going to write to him?"

"Have you forgotten that you have two fairy godfathers?" Lilia sang, grabbing his wand, "now, you said pen and paper right?" With a wave of his wand, a pen, and a piece of paper are now floating in the air. "Now, tell me what you are thinking?"

"God, I let me think." Cater laughed, "Let's me see."

✨

Lilla appeared back in his room, dusting himself off.

"Ah, a fairy godfather's work is always so rewarding. Now, where's Malleus, might as well tell him that his beloved made such a beautiful note for him."

He left the room, searching for Malleus's room and when he did, he sees Malleus on his desk, trying to write on a blank sheet of paper, Sebek was awake next to him and Silver was asleep ever so peacefully. "Oh my, what's this all about?"

"Master Malleus wants to send a letter to a boy named Cater, but he doesn't know what to say. Silver and I offered to help but Silver slept immediately!"

"Now, now, Sebek." Lilia walks over to Malleus, "trying to make a good impression?"

"I am having more trouble than I initially thought. When I made the first letter," Malleus explained, "I didn't have anyone in mind, but now since Cater entered my mind, he's all I could ever think about and is a blessing…but can be a curse. Now I struggle with a simple letter for him."

Lilia smiles.

"That's how love is, my dear Malleus, but allow me to help you. Just relax and listen to me."

Malleus nods and looks out the window, "My love, wait for me, will you? Wait for the night that we dance underneath a beautiful array of stars…"

#twisted wonderland #twst #cater diamond #malleus draconia #mallekei #lilia vanrouge #kalim al asim #ace trappola #deuce spade #riddle rosehearts #ruggie bucchi #original characters #the glass slipper #cinderella au #original work

[sunnabluama]

Day 1 - Trimmis-Sanremo

17.07.2022

Travel time: 7h 42min

Let the adventure begin

I‘m feeling quite tired but full of energy at the same time, which might be due to the fact that I only got five hours of sleep last night. Packing always takes much longer than I thought it would, but some things we never learn.. But never mind, I‘m ready for this! The coach I‘m taking from Chur, which is the city next to which I grew up, until Bellinzona in southern Switzerland drives through many beautiful valleys of Graubünden and makes me appreciate my home once again, shortly before leaving. After more than five months of flatland in Belgium I realized how much I missed those mountains, lakes and valleys. The bad feeling that I get in my stomach while writing this also reminds me of the curvy streets that pave their ways through the hilly landscape, I‘d better put it away for a second and enjoy the view out of the window.

The arrival in Bellinzona comes way earlier than expected and I‘m almost sad to leave the cozy bus. When stumbling up the stairs to the train station I feel the weight of everything I squeezed into my backpack last night for the very first time for real. But no complaints, i wanted the real BACKpacking experience - that‘s what I told my dear friend who has gone on interrail several times and who had advised me to take a suitcase with wheels instead.

You might think everything‘s going quite smooth so far but while I was writing this on my train to Milan, the first small misfortune happened without me even noticing it: I kept paying attention to the next stop since I knew this one was the one I had to change train. We were running late but that didn‘t surprise me too much since there always seemed to be a slight correlation between increasing train delays and proximity to the italian border. I felt the train decelerating and the voice announcing the next stop. Which was not my stop but the one after. I MISSED MY FIRST TRAIN STOP! It hit me like a lightning, I was suddenly wide awake. I was starting to get embarrassed by myself for not even making it to Italy without missing a train. And it was my own fault. Until now I‘m not entirely sure whether I really missed the stop or whether the train just did not stop. I remember myself looking around for a „stop on demand“ button or an indication that it had to be pressed for the train to halt at this particular station but couldn‘t find one. So this will remain a miracle. However, while all of this was going through my mind and the train was slowly coming to a halt I started checking train connections from the new station I was arriving. Of course, it turns out I‘m in the middle of nowhere and the next train to Milan departures only in one hour. It wouldn‘t have bothered me too much if it wasn‘t for my friend living in Milan that I wanted to spend some hours in the city with. One hour less only because of stupid me. Or the train that refused to stop, I‘m still not sure about this one..

Meanwhile I started looking around and realized that this was not only a random small train stop in the middle of nowhere but rather one that I knew and connected strong memories with.

Five years ago when I was going through the selection procedure of becoming a military pilot one part of the evaluation process was a two-week long flight camp on a military basis where we learned to fly a small plane. And the military basis that I had been on for those two weeks was only some footstepts away from this exact train station, where I haven’t been since then. What a coincidence! Or maybe fate? Because in this exact moment when I stopped daydreaming I heard a train arrive. It was the one that I was supposed to switch to the station before, it was delayed! It was the first time that I was happy about the ticinesi trains not being on time! The only bad thing was that it departured from the opposite platform. This was my only chance - I ran for the first time with my 16 kg on my back to the other side of the train station and just made it in time, no second too early. I stumbled inside the train and sank into a seat. How lucky could I have been? I didn‘t feel like I deserved it but didn‘t care, I was on my train, still on time!

The rest of my train ride to Milan passed uneventfully. I only realized for another time how easy it had become to cross borders in Europe, literally noone cared about the train passangers and what they were bringing. The only sign of a border were some publicans standing around on the platforms, talking not to passengers but themselves.

In Milan I met up with Lorenzo, a friend of mine that I got to know during my erasmus in Leuven. I was very happy to already see him again not even a week after having said goodbye to him in Leuven. Together we walked through the city, he showed me around the Duomo, the many different shopping streets and some beautiful churches and other buildings in the city. I really appreciated the effort he made to show me the around in the few hours we had.

And of course I also got the full taste of Italy while having pizza for lunch and gelato in the afternoon. The time definitely passed too quickly and I soon had to catch my train that would lead me further south.

As always, I was a bit short on time and again had to run with my heavy backpack to catch the train in time. Out of breath I stumbled through the different waggongs, looking for the seat I reserved. When I finally sunk down into it I asked the girl sitting opposite whether the train was really driving to Sanremo, just to make sure I was on the right one. I was relieved when she confirmed me it was the right one and we started talking. Her name was Neha, she was from South Africa and had been on a training for her company in Zurich for some weeks - what a coincidence! While chatting with her and her mum, who was accompanying her, I realized that this was exactly what I had been looking for when I started this journey, and what I loved so much: randomly meeting people from all over the world and starting conversations with anyone. I really hope my trip will continue like this!

The station in Sanremo reminded me of a mixture between a metro station and an airport: we arrived in kind if a tunnel and to reach the exit there was a long hallway with the conveyer bands for pedestrians that they have at the airport. I was so happy when I saw my friend Anita waiting for me, it has been five years since we last met! We fell into each others arms, both speechless, knowing that we would have enough time to catch up these days. When we arrived at her place I was speechless again: she had prepared my bed with a sign saying „Welcome home❤️“ and a list with italian food, specialities from the region of Liguria, that she wants me to try these days. How cute! Overwhelmed by the lovely welcoming we spent the rest of the evening having a tasty dinner with Focaccia, Sardinera, Parmigiano etc., and talking, talking, talking..

[artificialqueens]

two sides of a coin (without a face to land on), Chapter 1 (Crystal x Gigi) - blackley

A/N: hi everyone, i’m a new writer around these parts who finally got the courage to post something they wrote. much more to come. this is a supernatural angel/devil AU. I don’t have a specific direction for this fic yet but i’m thinking it’ll be a slow burn, fluff/angst fic packed with plot! this is also on AO3, so feel free to head over there too.

It was never meant to end like this. There were so many things Crystal was supposed to do. Ride a rollercoaster, get her heart broken, have her stomach pumped. Settle down, get a dog, have children and grow old. Die in a plane crash before you’re 29 wasn’t on that list. Yet, here she lay, accompanied only by the darkness around her. It was supposed to go differently.

“Come on, Crystal,” The sound of her best friend pulled Crystal out of her daze. She took a moment to familiarise herself with her surroundings. They stood in a food court, far from the gates. She turned to look at her friend with a wide grin, hoping to hide her lapse in concentration. “The gate’s up. Let’s go!” Gigi said, gesturing for Crystal to follow her. She nodded quickly, letting out a short breath, before gripping the handle of her small suitcase and skipping along to catch up. They walked at a comfortable pace through the walkways, since they had gotten to the Los Angeles International Airport in plenty of time, and exchanged small talk on the way. Crystal couldn’t help but daydream again.

Gigi Goode was the name of Crystal’s friend. She was a goddess in every sense of the word, and Gigi knew it, too. Tall and leggy, with the face of a model enhanced excellently with her inch-perfect makeup. She had this aura, one that exuded such beauty and grace while never coming off as impertinent. Crystal was sure she had flaws, but in two years of friendship, she hadn’t worked out what they were. Gigi’s skin was flawless, her hair glistened, and her eyes looked like the kind of thing Crystal would want to get lost in. As Gigi looked ahead, Crystal studied her companion’s face, frowning inquisitively. Crystal thought she could love Gigi. Perhaps, she already did.

Before long, their walk to the gate came to an end. It was still fairly quiet, with many seats empty. The pair picked out two spots and grouped their things together. The boarding wasn’t to start for another 45 minutes or so.

“Hey, Gigi,” Crystal piped up. “You want to play some Mario Kart?” She held up her Nintendo Switch in one hand, stupid grin plastered on her face. Gigi nodded excitedly, and Crystal set up. She balanced the screen on top of one of their carry-on suitcases, and handed Gigi one of the JoyCons. Sweet Sweet Canyon, Mount Wario, Shy Guy Ruins and Cloudtop Cruise came and went, and the two girls were neck and neck with two victories each. Crystal had forgotten how good Gigi was at this game.

“Right, that’s it.” Crystal giggled, slapping her friend’s leg softly. “No fucking around. It’s Rainbow Road time, girl.” 

Gigi twitched an eyebrow and smirked, talking in a manufactured proper tone. “Crystal Elizabeth, I am the master of this game. You cannot hope to beat me.” The younger girl pretended to flex a bicep, much to Crystal’s amusement.

“I’ve beaten you twice, you bitch!” Crystal let out a laugh. “It’s the final showdown!”

Gigi’s expression turned blank, and her voice lowered. “If you lose, we’re no longer friends. I can’t be friends with a loser.” Crystal’s grin turned into some sort of confused scowl for a brief second, before Gigi bellowed out a hearty chortle. “I’m joking with you, loser.”

Crystal put a hand on her chest and released a long exhale in relief. “Good. I swear, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“But,” Gigi leaned in with a mischievous smile. “I won’t let you forget this defeat until the day you die.” 

Crystal let out a cutesy chuckle. “Deal, Miss Goode.” With that, the Mario Kart race of the century began. The Missouri girl tried her best to keep her wandering thoughts at bay, but her mind let her down again. Gigi shot into the lead, cackling on the way.

The pair had been friends for a number of years, after Crystal had gone to visit some family in LA. Gigi happened to live across the street, and the pair spent almost every morning enjoying each other’s company. They talked about anything and everything, and Crystal remembered that it was the most at peace she had ever felt. Gigi seemed to really care about what Crystal had to say, and what her life was like. It was all Crystal had ever wanted; to feel present in someone’s thoughts. She had spent far too many of her days floating, like a spirit. With Gigi, she felt like she was whole, solid and human.

Six months ago, Gigi had gone full-time with her modelling career. During the initial months of their friendship, Gigi had modelled here and there, but nothing professional. She used to insist to Crystal that she wasn’t “nearly pretty enough” for it, but Crystal knew otherwise. She always believed Gigi would make it, and Gigi thanked her dedication by bringing her on as many modelling trips as possible. Crystal packed up her things in Missouri and moved to LA to be closer to her best friend, because, in Crystal’s justification, if someone makes you feel so grounded, why would you be apart from them? And so this time, they were to go to Milan for a show. Gigi had screamed down the phone at Crystal, so excited she could burst.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Milan, Crystal!”

“I know, G. Don’t you remember? You used to tell me on the lawn.” Crystal had said through the widest grin. Proud was the only word Crystal could associate with the feeling.

There was an apprehension in Crystal’s mind, though. She loved all these feelings and thoughts she had about Gigi, but like a shadow on a sunny day, one devilish thought reared its ugly head too often. She’s too good for you, it would say. She keeps you around because she feels sorry for you.

What a pathetic excuse for a person you are. One day she will leave and never come back for you. She won’t think twice. She doesn’t care. How could she ever love someone like-

“Yeeeaaaahhh!” Gigi screeched in victory. Crystal blinked confusedly, retracting with a small shake of the head. Fifth. Gigi sprung up from her seat, and stuck her tongue out at Crystal. “Loserrrr!” She jeered playfully.

Crystal scoffed unconvincingly. She followed it with a small smile, having had her ponderings interrupted. “Yeah, I am.”

“What happened, Crys?” Gigi questioned, the joking tone in her voice fading.

“Nothing.” Crystal sounded far too defensive for her liking. Before Gigi could open her mouth to respond, Crystal gestured towards the gate. “Look, we’re meant to be boarding in a minute.” She quickly changed the tone. Gigi gave up with the question, and helped Crystal pack away the device and gather their things.

—

The two girls took their seats on the plane, an Airbus A330. It was of a fair size, Crystal estimated it could carry two-hundred and fifty passengers and crew, perhaps more. They were sitting in the middle of the plane, more towards the front, in a three seat row. Bizarrely, the empty seat closest to the walkway was never filled as the aircraft was prepared for takeoff, with Crystal sitting in the middle seat and Gigi by the window. With all the luggage stowed away, and all passengers safely in their seats, the plane turned onto the runway.

Crystal felt a touch on her hand, which was firmly clutching onto the arm rest. She glanced over to her right to see Gigi looking softly at her. Her friend proceeded to grab her hand completely.

“You feeling okay?” Gigi asked. Crystal nodded apprehensively, which was responded by Gigi with a nervous dip of the head. “Great, because I don’t. God, I hate flying sometimes.”

Crystal’s expression melted into a smile. She released the arm rest to turn her hand into Gigi’s, grasping it tightly. “I got you.” She said, hiding her own concerns. Gigi rested her head on Crystal’s shoulder for a moment to express her gratitude. Slowly, the aircraft began to speed up. Faster, faster, faster, and within the minute it was in the air, with no problems. Once it had reached altitude, the pair sighed in relief, then looked at each other and laughed.

“You’re an idiot, Miss Goode.”

“I know.”

It was a long flight, nearly 20 hours, so the two girls hunkered down and got comfortable when it was appropriate. Crystal moved to the empty seat to give the two a little more room - Gigi wasn’t famous enough for business class, yet. It was hard to talk much, given the noise, but the two managed to chat in intervals, sometimes about Italy, or Gigi, or Crystal. They passed the time watching movies and playing games.

About 15 hours into the flight, and after a brief nap, the aircraft began to shake. 

“Hi all, not to worry. We’re just experiencing a little pocket of turbulence as we enter Portuguese airspace. Sit tight and fasten your seatbelts, we’ll clear this shortly.”  The pilot reassured everyone. Crystal and Gigi complied with no qualms. And that seemed to be the case, as the area was cleared in around ten minutes and everything appeared to go back to normal. One girl peered at the other, but was comforted by their presence.

All of a sudden, their expressions turned to confusion. Crystal could feel that dropping feeling in her stomach. Gigi scowled, jerking around quickly to stare out of her window. Crystal followed suit, cranking her neck to catch a glimpse. Faces turned to those of horror, as the girls noticed the clouds passing them overhead. It was almost like…

No, it can’t be. Crystal’s eyes widened. Are we…dropping out of the sky? The rest was a blur to Crystal. She remembered hearing the pilot over the tannoy, telling them to brace. 

“…small failure to the right engine…”

Knuckles turned white as Crystal had Gigi’s hand in a vice grip. She could see the tears brimming in her friend’s eyes. She was so focused on Gigi that she failed to take in any of the mass panic around her from the other passengers.

“…a controlled landing…”

Crystal was too shocked to cry, frozen in fear. Everything she was scared of was in front of her, in this moment. Gigi’s distress, literally dropping out of the sky, all the things she should have done. Get a dog, have children, grow old… No, no, no! She could feel the g-force around her, so strong. With her back pinned to her seat and her neck unmoving, Crystal summoned all the effort within her to glimpse at Gigi. She was completely unconscious, overcome by the physics. Crystal grimaced.

She wanted to tell Gigi she loved her. The one thing she promised to do before she died. However hard she tried, though, her mouth would not open to say the words. Was it the force? Was it the fear? Nevertheless, Crystal felt her eyes were wet with tears, but they could not fall. And so, stuck to her seat, wallowing in her failings, Crystal became drowsy.

“What do you want for your life, Crystal?” A memory of Gigi conjured itself in Crystal’s weakening contemplation. Crystal was put at ease right away, recognising the scenery. They were on the lawn in LA again, younger. Gigi was still beautiful, still an angel. What was Crystal saying? She always was. “Crystal?” The younger girl asked again. Crystal muttered a swift apology.

“I don’t know, G. I want to do a lot of things, like go to Europe, and get a dog, and ride a rollercoaster-”

“You’ve never ridden a rollercoaster before?” Gigi scoffed and reclined in shock. “Girl, you’re missing out.”

“Shut up!” Crystal interrupted, laughing. She let herself giggle for another moment before sighing, switching to a more serious tone. “But I want to be happy. Like, really happy. With a family and love and everything.” Gigi cocked her head. She leaned back onto the grass with a satisfied smile and hummed a sound of agreement. Crystal opened her mouth to speak again. “I just don’t want regrets when I die. That I didn’t do one thing and did the other. Or I missed out on meeting someone. Or I let my feelings get in the way of something amazing. I just don’t want to be dying and thinking about-”

…all the things I should have done. Her eyes fluttered shut and her body hurtled into the ground. Enveloped by the warm embrace of death, Crystal’s feelings ran blank. Finally free from twenty-eight years of the anxieties and the inner saboteur, from the hyper-analysations and the over-thinking. If Crystal could form a thought in this moment, she might think that this was peace, in some sort of fucked up way. A fitting end for someone who was always just a little bit too scared.

—-

“Can you just work with me for a moment, Nicky?” A frustrated voice rang out. “There’s a lot of souls to harvest here, you know, plane crash and all.” The voice tutted loudly, eliciting a response from a second voice. Crystal could…hear? What was going on?

“Calm down, Jan.” ‘Nicky’ drawled. “Check the list. How many have we got left?”

The flipping of paper went on for a short time, before voice number one, ‘Jan’, spoke up. “Two-hundred and sixty-seven in total, and we’ve got one-hundred and three so far.”

“See?” Nicky chirped. She spoke with a subtle accent. “That’s not bad, we’ll be done soon.”

The gritting of Jan’s teeth could be heard from miles away. “Yes, Nicky.” The aggression was obvious with this one. “But we’ve already been here for seven hours!”

“Since when do you have a concept of time? We’re dead, idiot. We have all the time in the world.” Voice number two hissed. Jan growled, fumbling around with her paper. “Look, this one.” The voices grew louder.

“Crystal Elizabeth, number one-hundred and four.” Crystal could hear the sound of scrawling on a surface, and wanted to call out to them. Help me! Please! Why can’t you hear me? Why can’t I say anything?

“A tree branch through the abdomen. Bled out.” Nicky clicked her tongue. “Looks young, too.”

Jan hummed a sound of affirmation. “Twenty-eight.” She sighed, flipping over yet another sheet of paper. “Marked for you, Nicky.”

“For the Below? Hm,” Crystal felt the presence of Nicky come closer to her, but could not reach out to her. Seriously, why can’t I move? “Even evil can look innocent.”

E-Evil? “Now, now, Nicky. You know that sometimes we just have to balance the books, as it were. Maybe she isn’t so bad.” Jan reasoned with Nicky. The voice with the accent - French? - cleared their throat.

“I guess we’ll have to see. You’re coming with me, Crystal Elizabeth.”

With that, both voices disappear, and the serene darkness around her fell silent once more. As Crystal tried to move, her lifeless body did not respond. She tried to reason with herself, these are one of those end-of-life dreams, right? She knew she had to be dead. There was no way she could have survived such a crash.

The realisation hits her, then. Gigi. Oh, poor Gigi. She was gone, surely, and Crystal would never see her again. Crystal was not religious, in any sense of the word. In fact, quite the opposite. “When you die, you just rot!” she used to say.

Oh, how she hoped that now, more than ever, she was horribly wrong.

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #crystal methyd #fluff #angst #slow burn #supernatural au #two sides of a coin #blackley #concrit welcome #submission #crygi #s12

[fandom-collective-writers]

Title: "Till Death do us Part"

Characters: Soryu Oh

A/N: This is my first KBTBB fic. I'd like to thank @voltage-vixen for encouraging me to write it. @soryuwifeyxx, I hope you like this .

Written by @rikumorimachisgirl

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

You sat by the window of your bedroom in the Employees Dormitory of the Tres Spades, watching the rain as it drenched the earth in the early hours of the day. Your gaze shifted from the window to the calendar on the wall, and you felt your chest tighten when you read the date today.

You sighed and silently cursed yourself for letting this affect you. But then, how could it not - it was a year ago today that you took his last name and became one. 

'Come to think of it, it rained last year, too, ' you quietly mused, as you heard the pitter-patter of raindrops on your window. With a bittersweet smile on your face, you allowed yourself to think back to your wedding, and the vows he once made.

"I join my life with yours…"

It was a wedding befitting Mafia royalty, and 

despite the rain, all the people that mattered to the two of you came to celebrate your special day. Everything from the lavish venue that was decked out with thousands of white roses, the two-meter high wedding cake to your bespoke designer wedding dress and five-carat diamond wedding ring had nobility written all over it. 

This day couldn't be more perfect - you exchanged vows with Soryu in a traditional ceremony, and your apprehension about the guests not mixing well vanished when you saw your family being entertained by no less than your husband's best friends, and the Ice Dragons socializing with your friends.

'I'm really Soryu's wife now, ' you beamed silently, as guests started addressing you as Mrs. Oh, and wishing you'd start a family as soon as possible. The thought of having babies made you blush, and you sipped your wine to hide your embarrassment. 

"Someone's spacing out." Your husband's voice shook you from your daydream, and soon you felt his hand close over yours. "Are you okay, baby?"

You turned your attention to the handsome man beside you. Dressed in a long black silk Changshan over his dress pants, with his hair slicked back, Soryu looked even more handsome than you had ever thought possible. As you continued to thank your lucky stars at having married such a wonderful man, he leaned closer and stole a kiss from you. 

"You looked like you were waiting for a kiss, " he whispered and you felt your face flush. "Am I wrong?"

"No, but we're in public -"

"Ah, that's right. We're at a wedding - our wedding - so that means I get to kiss you whenever I want to." He smirked and leaned closer once more to capture your lips. 

You blushed furiously and attempted to escape, but the tinkling of glasses resounded across the reception hall. At the corner of your eye, you could see Ota and Baba leading the crowd in requesting to see the couple kiss. 

Soryu shrugged and looked at you. "We can't disappoint our guests, can we?"

You straightened up and took a deep breath. "I suppose we can't, " you responded and closed your eyes, anticipating his kiss.

Smiling, he admired you for a bit. He's always found you beautiful - in fact, it was your quiet beauty that beckoned him to bid for you on the night you were auctioned off at the Tres Spades - but today, you were as bright as the Sun, and he simply couldn't look away. Just before he brushed your lips with his, he whispered, "I promise you that I'll make you the happiest woman in the world."

"Wherever you will go, I will go. Whatever you will face, I will face…"

You straighten up the life-size wedding portrait that the photographer delivered to your home yesterday. It's been three months since the wedding, and immediately after that, Soryu had been called upon to help win over a rogue Italian Mafia group, whose leader recently passed away. 

You sighed, as the memory of how your brief honeymoon in Ibiza was cut short after that call he received from the Ice Dragons faction in Sicily. 

'This won't take long, baby. I'll be home soon, ' he promised, as he sent you off to Japan. Since then, you'd devoted your time in making his condominium unit look and feel like home. Days turned into weeks, and his calls had become less frequent and shorter. 

'But I chose this life, ' you reminded yourself, as you went about cleaning, making an extra effort to ensuring that it smells fresh. Today was a special day - today's the day he was coming home. 

The doorbell rang, and you made a mad dash for the door. You paused briefly to smooth out your dress. 'This is it! He's finally home! ' you thought silently, as you felt a flurry in your tummy. You realized you missed him more than you thought, and you wanted nothing more than to fly into his arms. Flashing a bright smile, you turned the handle and opened the door excitedly.

"Ryosuke?"

"Princess!" Soryu's faithful henchman greeted with a warm smile on his face. 

"Come in, come in, " you said, stepping aside to make way for the young man to enter your house carrying what looked like an expensive package.

"What brings you here?" 

"Princess, " he said, tentatively. "Boss sent me here to tell you in person that he's a little caught up in the negotiations between the Ice Dragons, Crimson Swords, and La Squadra…"

"Oh."

Your husband's henchman started to fidget. Perhaps that came out sadder than you let on, so you immediately gave him a smile. "Those negotiations sure take up a lot of time, huh?"

Those words may have worked wonders because you noticed Ryosuke relax a bit. "Yes. Right now, both groups still don't trust each other so we're not even allowed to bring phones inside the neutral territory. Anyway, the Boss wanted to make sure you were alright and he wanted me to give this to you, too."

You stared at the paper bag he held in front of you, wishing it was Soryu offering it to you instead. 

"Princess?"

"Oh, sorry, " you said, as soon as you returned to your senses, and took the bag from him. "Are you going back to Italy?"

"Yeah, I leave in an hour. I just flew in to give you this, and to tell you that Boss said he'll fly to you as soon as this is over."

"Please tell Soryu to take care of himself, Ryosuke, " you said before he left. 

"I will, Princess."

Sighing, you opened the paper bag and took out a box with a note attached to it. 

'I'm sorry this is taking a while, but I'll be home soon. I'd like you to pick our most beautiful wedding picture and put it on this frame. Keep it by your bedside, so you won't forget. I love you, baby. Thank you for marrying me.'

You traced his lovely calligraphy with your finger. You saw that one of the words had blotted, followed by another and yet another. Suddenly, your vision was clouded, and you simply allowed your tears to fall. 

"For good or ill, in happiness and in sadness, come riches or poverty…"

You quickly made your way through the crowd at the Emergency Room of the prestigious Medical Center in Milan, scouring the area for Ota, Eisuke, or anyone who could point you to where your husband was. They were staying at the Tres Spades in London when they received the fateful call from Ryosuke and made their way to Italy right away. 

"Hey, over here."

You spun around as soon as you heard Ota's voice and you felt someone tug your arm. "Come with me, " he said, as he held your hand and led you to the VIP Emergency Section, where Eisuke, Baba, Mamoru, and Luke were waiting. 

"Lovely Bones, I'm so glad you're here, " Luke greeted you as soon as you arrived. 

You nodded solemnly at the English doctor and then turned to Eisuke. "Thank you for sending your private jet."

The businessman shrugged. "Soryu's in stable condition now. I had to authorize his surgery, otherwise he -"

"Now, now, Boss, " Baba cut in. "She's just arrived and here you are scaring her."

"Sor's in stable condition now. Eisuke made sure of that, " Luke said, reassuringly. "Come, he's in this room."

It was the first time you're seeing him after six months of being away, and this was not the reunion you had in mind. You steeled yourself, as Luke gestured for you to follow him, but nothing prepared you for what you were about to see. In a spacious room laid your husband, surrounded by machines and tubes of all sorts. Your heart pounded with each step you took towards him. 

"Soryu, " you whispered, as you run your fingers through his hair. 

"One of the Squadra henchmen attacked before Soryu and their interim leader signed the agreement." You heard Eisuke speak from behind. "He was said to have been opposed to forming an alliance with the Ice Dragons from the start, so he open-fired. Their leader was killed on the spot, and Jin is in critical condition as we speak."

You tried to block the images of the bloodshed in what was supposed to be neutral territory for all the Mafia groups worldwide. Leaning forward, you planted a kiss on Soryu's forehead. "I'm so glad you're alive, my love, " you said quietly to your still unconscious husband before you turned your attention to his childhood friend. "Thank you for making sure he gets treated right away, Eisuke."

"He's not gonna be happy you're here - at least, that's what he's going to say, " Eisuke casually said. 

"I know. He's gonna say I'm exposing myself to danger, " you mused, as you twined your fingers with Soryu's. "But it's a risk I'm willing to take because this is the life I chose."

From where he was standing, you could see him smirk. "I see you've grown much braver. Now, you sound like the wife of a Mafia Boss."

"That's because I am the wife of a Mafia Boss, " you retorted, before turning your attention back to your husband, whispering promises you hoped he would hear.

"I take you as my life partner, and will give myself to no other…"

He sent you back to Japan a week after he was discharged from the hospital. It's been a month since you saw him. Back in the comfort of your lifeless condominium, you sat by your lonesome and poured yourself a drink. 'He only has my best interest in mind, ' you said to yourself as you took a sip of your wine. 

You heard the doorbell and wondered who would visit you past midnight. Nonetheless, you walked to the door to check.

"Ota?"

"Hey, I was in the area, and I thought I'd check on you."

You rolled your eyes in disbelief, almost sure that Soryu put him through this. "Well, mission accomplished. Tell my husband I'm doing okay, " you said, a lot harsher than you intended, and made to close the door. 

"Woah, Woah… wait just a minute there, " the handsome blond said smoothly, as he blocked the door and snuck in. "You don't exactly sound okay. Have you been drinking?"

"Just leave me be, Ota. You know your way out," you dismissed, walking away from him. 

"On the contrary, maybe I'll join you."

"Suit yourself."

He followed you to the makeshift bar, and you poured him a drink, silently wishing the time would pass quickly. Three bottles of wine later, you had moved from the bar to the couch, where you were currently resting your head on his lap while he gently combed it with his fingers. 

The grandfather clock struck six times, and you both trained your eyes on it. "It's six in the morning?"

"Damn, we stayed up all night, " he said before letting out a yawn. "I guess I better go."

He stopped combing your hair to help you sit up, and you immediately miss the warmth of his touch. Sensing your sudden mood change, Ota cupped your face with his hands and looked into your eyes. "Hey, wipe that frown from your face."

The sound of a gun cocking tore through the living room, and you both jumped apart. Standing by the entrance was a confused Ryosuke, and beside him was your husband. 

"Soryu!"

He kept his eyes and his gun trained at Ota, so you turned to face him and took a step to block Ota from his line of sight. "Soryu, please -"

"I was just comforting her, Sor -"

"Is that what you call it these days?" Soryu mocked, as he stepped closer. 

You continued to block Ota, even as your husband circled around you to get a better aim. "This is not what you think it is, Soryu. Stop threatening to shoot Ota -"

"Oh? Were you expecting another kind of reaction after seeing your wife with another man?"

"I already told you that it's not what you think. Ota came by last night to check on me because he probably thought I could use some company, " you started, not breaking eye contact with the intimidating Ice Dragon Boss you married. "And you know what, I didn't realize just how lonely I was until last night."

Your cutting words made him waver. He lowered his gun slowly but kept his gaze shot at the man behind you. "Inui, " he called out to his loyal henchman without looking over his shoulder. "Take Ota to the Tres Spades and proceed to headquarters after. My wife and I have things to discuss."

You held your breath, as you watched Ryosuke escort a weary-looking Ota away from you. As soon as the door closed, you felt your inhibitions slip away. 

"You were lonely?"

"You expected otherwise?"

"But I called you whenever I can -"

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "That's it?" We're married, Soryu - we've been married for seven months, for goodness sakes - but do you know how much time we've actually spent together? About twenty days - half of which you were unconscious."

His face was devoid of any emotion, as he stood in silence, watching your outburst. You've seen this face so many times in the years you've been together - it was the face he wore when he was unsure of what to say. But that wasn't what you needed. Right now, you wanted to argue - you needed him to talk to you, to counter what you say or challenge your opinion.

"You knew what you were getting into when you married me, " he said, and you took a sharp breath. 

He may as well shoot you without warning, you thought as you felt your tears dampen your cheeks. As images of how you spent your days by your lonesome filled your head, you started to accept that you will never take the top spot in his life - and that this is not the life you want to choose. 

"I'm sorry, " he said, as he held your arms tenderly. 

"No. I'm sorry, " you said, as you broke away from his hold and took a step back. Taking a deep breath, you removed your wedding band and placed it in his hand. "I can't do this anymore, " you told him, as you closed your hand over his. "I need someone who will choose me over everything else, and clearly, that person isn't you."

You forced a smile on your face as you stared into his eyes, burning his image in your mind one last time. "I'm sorry I couldn't stay with you after all. I won't care to pack my things since you bought most of it for me anyway. We can ask our lawyers to talk about our divorce." 

As you started to turn, you felt him grip your wrist tightly. "Baby, I love you. Please don't go, he pleaded as you struggled to break free. "Please don't walk out the door -"

He sobbed unabashedly behind you, and you felt your heart pounding wildly. You wanted to throw yourself in his arms, but you knew that wouldn't change anything. You and his Mafia family were equals, and you will never win over them. 

Taking a deep breath, you turned the knob open and stepped out the door. 

"Till death do us part."

It's been five months since you last saw him. He made no move to see you or respond to your divorce letter. When you were offered your old job at the Tres Spades, you made sure of two things - that he wasn't made aware and that you do not run into him - conditions that Eisuke and Mr. Kenzaki had no problems complying with, and you spent your days cleaning guest rooms and banquet halls to pass the time. On some days it was easy to forget you were ever married, and some days are harder than others.

Today was one of them. You sighed wearily and allowed yourself to think of what would have been. Just this once. 

You would have been married for a year today, you mused as you fix your eyes on your left ring finger. Today, he would have probably brought you to the Louvre or made arrangements to close Versailles for a day just for the two of you and make love to you in every room in the palace. 

You wiped your tears and took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. Outside, you saw the rain continued to pour, as though consoling you for your loss. 

'It's over. We're over, ' you said, as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

A rap on your door distracted you from your thoughts. You frowned and strained to listen to the sound you heard, wondering if someone just bumped against your door. 

But there it was again - knock, knock - and you rose from your bed to see who it was. 

You opened the door and gasped. Standing outside was Soryu, in his usual grey suit, with his hair slicked back. He cradled the biggest bouquet of Ecuadorian roses you've ever seen, and you pinched yourself to check if you were dreaming or not. 

"You're really here, " you heard him say. 

"That's my line, " you retorted as you watched him walk inside your room. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to see you, " he said casually, before showing you the bouquet he was holding. "And I wanted you to have these." 

"Why?"

"Because it's our one-year anniversary."

"But we're over -" 

"Oh? I don't remember signing my consent to the divorce. In fact, I just thought you needed a little time to cool off from our first big fight."

You rolled your eyes and held the bouquet close to you. "A little time? What's so little about five months?"

"I was scared because I've never seen you so upset before because of me, " he said. "But when I saw the divorce papers, I was devastated. I knew I had to talk about it and win you back, but I didn't know where to find you."

"How did you find me? Eisuke and Mr. Kenzaki promised…"

"Ota may have slipped me a note or two, " he confessed, as he reached out to hold your hand and peered into your face. "Baby, I love you. I can't live without you."

"I missed you, Soryu, " you start to sob and he pulled you in for a hug. "I really thought you'd given upon us."

"I wouldn't do that, " he said, his voice cracking. "I hadn't made good on all my promises, except for one. And I intend to continue keeping that promise."

"What promise is that?" 

"Did you really forget?" He asked as he pulled away. The confusion on your face didn't go amiss, as you watched him fish something out of his pocket. Your eyes widen when you'd caught sight of the ring you'd given back to him. 

"I love you, baby, " he said solemnly, as he slipped the gold band onto your finger just like he did a year ago. "Til death do us part."

The end. 

#kissed by the baddest bidder #kbtbb fic #soryu oh #soryu x reader #kbtbb soryu

[tb5-heavenward]

talented amateurs - deleted scene

this is not a chapter of TA so much as it is something that was GOING to be a chapter of TA, but i just wasn’t feeling it. It’s not BAD, it’s just...ehhhhh. It meanders a lot and its narratively dense and it doesn’t end well. It can be taken to be sort of nebulously semi-canon to the story itself, but it wastes a lot of words to say very little and doesn’t quite do what I want it to and so it won’t be included. I feel bad about how slow I’ve been lately, though it’s not for lack of trying, just for lack of time and energy and a sort of mire of challenging personal circumstances. Nothing’s wrong, just having a rough month.

Anyway! here’s about 4k of something that won’t be published elsewhere, concerning Gordon and introducing Alan into the story, although when that happens properly it’ll probably happen in a different way. Sorry for the wait, and hopefully I can get myself back on track again soon. thanks for reading and thanks for your patience with me <3

There are worse places to spend twelve hours of his life than in the Azores, even if it is the rainy season. And even if the rainy season has resulted in flooding and mudslides throughout the archipelago, and has Gordon and Alan hopping from island to island, figuratively putting out fires, and literally helping to manage the damage done by all of the aforementioned flooding and mudslides. So far they've evacuated a handful of assorted small villages, helped dig channels to reroute inland flooding, and reinforced a few dozen miles worth of levees (from the French levée , itself from the feminine past participle of the verb lever, "to raise") along a few dozen miles worth of rivers.

Of course, there are better places he could've spent the past twelve hours of his life, and Gordon's especially conscious of the fact that he's only about an hour's flight away from Penelope. When his mind wanders, as it's wont to do when he's bored and shoving dirt around to build dikes, lately it wanders back to Creighton-Ward Manor, the master bedroom at the end of a long hallway and the shift of a paradigm that had happened therein. With rain pounding relentlessly on the exterior of his little yellow pod, in the muggy darkness of a thunderstorm in the middle of the day, with saltwater and mud permeating everything---Gordon's thinking back to the way the earliest morning sunlight had filled Penelope's bedroom, all white and gold and satiny softness, and the scent of lilac on every breath.

It's hard to believe that she's only about an hour's flight away. And not even at top speed---if he really punched it, if he pushed all the way up to even TB2's poky-slow Mach 6, he could be there in a bare twenty minutes.

Admittedly Gordon's sense of distance has been skewed by the work they do and the way they do it, because actually it's a whole 1500 miles. There are entire climates in between him and Penelope, but he's still daydreaming about the twenty minutes it would take for him to get to her doorstep. He could just show up. He's sweaty and tired and he's got mud in places that mud shouldn't logically have been able to get to---but in twenty minutes, he could just be there. With her.

---And Thunderbird 2, and his obnoxious little brother, and with the Azores still slowly being rained into the ocean at his back, and with no actual guarantee that Penelope's even at Creighton-Ward Manor, and not off in Milan or Tokyo or Belarus, because he hasn't managed to keep track of what her plans were for the week, because in the two weeks since he'd had to leave her alone in Paris, they've only spoken twice, and he only remembers the first time, because he'd pretty much passed out in the middle of the second.

He hasn't even managed a spare moment to call and apologize for that. It's just another reason he wants to drop everything, leave the Azores behind, and fly his ass to England. It's really not that far.

But it's a moot point, because any distance is insurmountable when there are people who need him. So he stays on the ground, in a mole pod in the Azores, because people need him.

It's nice to be needed. Showing up to a place and being essential to the continued survival of the people who've been waiting for him has always provided something of a rush, something he'd grown to crave over the course of his family's existence as International Rescue. But lately Gordon's starting to think that on the whole he might prefer being wanted.

Knowing that Penelope wants him is a whole other kind of thrill. She'd said it in French, when she'd said it, but she'd still said it, and in his head he keeps hearing it, imagining her voice all soft and sultry and sincere. It's hard to believe that the way he feels about her began as an idle crush, all those years ago, when these days his feelings for her seem to consume his every idle moment, not to mention all the not-idle moments, when he's really supposed to be paying more attention to the circumstances at hand. It's been hard as hell not to be able to talk to Penelope. It makes it very difficult to concentrate on building dikes in the Azores. It makes him wish he at least had someone he could really talk to about her.

But Virgil's at home on Tracy Island, probably lounging poolside, on a deck chair with his broken leg propped up, recuperating. In Gordon's head, his big brother is nibbling on bunches of dewy grapes and sipping champagne, while MAX waits on him hand and foot, as the rest of the family toils in their usual heroic obscurity.

So it's Alan who's flying TB2, keeping her steady and level in the rough skies that go with the rough weather and rough seas in their current rough situation. And in his big brother's absence, Gordon's had to settle for melancholy rambling at his little brother about just how much he misses the love of his life. Pines for her. Aches for her. And all sorts of other tormented emotions that Alan probably doesn't understand, because when it comes to affairs of the heart, at least as far as Gordon can tell, Alan has the emotional range of a turnip.

He's definitely not as good a listener as TB2's usual pilot, and has answered Gordon's heartfelt lament with nothing better than "mmhms" and "uh huhs" and the occasional "oh yeah, really?"

That is, until he finally stirs himself to break the pattern.

"So if you love her so much, why haven't you told Scott yet?"

He's also a little blunt, for Gordon's tastes. The last vestiges of sullen teenagerhood cling to Alan like cottony down on a baby chick, and in the weeks leading up to his twentieth birthday, he seems determined to pull out all the stops. One last sulky hurrah before he's officially in his twenties and fully expected to smarten up and act his age. He's being more of a brat than usual, which is notable, because he's not usually a brat at all.

To be fair, Alan's always been well aware of his position as the baby of the family, and it's always suited him just fine. He leans into it more than a little bit. It helps that he still looks like a twelve-year-old. Ever since his little brother was born, Gordon's been of the opinion that it was a good thing that Alan came along when he did, because he makes a much better baby of the family than Gordon ever would have. In Gordon's head, his baby brother is eternally caught at nine years old, with his big blue eyes and his freckles and his perpetual baby-face. And his blunt, tactless questions.

Despite the fact that he's younger by an entire five years, Alan's a good pilot---probably the best in the family---and he handles TB2 as well as anyone else; as well or better than Gordon does, even. And he's even a decent co-pilot, which is another skillset entirely. As far as everything else---well. Virgil wouldn't need to ask why Gordon hasn't told Scott about Penelope yet. Virgil would just get it.

But Virgil's back home on Tracy Island, and MAX is feeding him grapes and topping up his champagne glass and probably fanning him with a palm leaf, not that palm trees are actually native to Tracy Island, or that Gordon's even sure offhand if MAX has that many arms.

"Because," Gordon answers, in the manner of elder brothers since time immemorial, and means that to be the extent of the answer.

"Because why?" Alan asks back, the other half of the ritual as observed by little brothers. A little brother three times over himself, Gordon probably should've seen that one coming, but it stymies him all the same.

Rain continues to pound on the outside of his pod as Gordon fails to find an answer. It's dry inside, but it doesn't feel like it, because it's also swelteringly hot and he's sweating beneath his uniform, almost fogging up his helmet. It's only midday, but with the weather raging outside, it's too dark to see too far in front of his pod, so Gordon's been relying on a holographic rendering of the surrounding terrain, helpfully provided by TB2's scanners, as the ship hovers overhead, monitoring his dike-building progress. They're nearly done here. Despite all evidence to the contrary, apparently the storm is finally starting to slacken off. Soon it'll be back home to the island, just in time to catch just enough sleep before something else, somewhere else, goes terribly, tremendously wrong.

"You can say it's 'cuz you're chicken," Alan tells him, in the annoyingly smug fashion of a teenager who thinks he knows what he's talking about.

Gordon bristles and revs the pods engines a little harder than they need to be revved, so that he buries the leading edge of the bulldozer blade in a mound of thick, tenacious clay and gets a little bit stuck. "I don't care what Scott thinks."

"Still haven't told him, though," Alan points out, as though he knows the first damn thing about anything at all.

"There hasn't been a good time for it," Gordon counters, terse, and smothering his own internal guilt about the fact that he hasn't made an effort to seek out his eldest brother and sit him down, to tell him the truth and just get it over with. He keeps putting it off. Other things always seem more important, because in their line of work, the other things are usually other people's lives. That's as good an excuse as any. "Hell, there just hasn't been any time, good or otherwise. We're a man down, Al. We're all busting ass trying to cover for Virgil. We're so busy that you're flying the big green bathtub. We're so busy that John actually needs to be useful. I've barely even Scott in like a week---if he's not flying, he's sleeping. Same with me. I'll tell him when things are less batshit crazy."

Alan ignores this perfectly rational explanation and Gordon attempts to change gears and get his stupid pod unstuck from the riverbank. The engine revs impotently against stubborn, sodden clay, as his little brother continues to press the point. "Is it 'cuz you think he'll be mad?"

Gordon doesn't actually know. Truth be told---though he's not actually about to tell this particular truth to Alan or even to Virgil---inwardly, he's still reeling from what Penelope had told him. Weeks ago, now. About Scott. And her. And her and Scott. And the fact that Penelope and Scott had ever been even a remote possibility, because the very thought of the two of them makes him feel a muddled up mess of emotions that he doesn't entirely know how to process. Nausea, if nausea counts as an emotion, though that might be down to the fact that he secretly gets a little carsick in pods, sometimes. Jealousy, but in retrospect, of something long since past that had never happened anyway, so there's nothing to actually be jealous of. Bafflement that anyone in the world---even his eldest brother---could ever have taken only an idle interest in Penelope and then not been completely devastated by her rejection.

And a deep, resonant fear that the reasons she'd turned Scott down in the first place, all those years ago, are the same reasons why their own nascent attempt at a relationship might not work out in the end.

But he doesn't like to think about any of that for too long, and especially not while he's operating a motor vehicle, and so he fends Alan's question off with the judicious application of false bravado. "Don't care if he would be. I'll tell him when I'm good and ready. It's none of his business anyway."

"It's a little bit his business if it's an IR thing."

"Yeah, well, it's not."

Alan persists, "It kind of is, though. Since it's Lady P, and all."

"We both have lives outside of International Rescue, Allie."

Gordon's taken aim at lofty disdain, reinforced with the condescending use of his little brother's nickname. His little brother just laughs at him. "Well, she might. You sure don't."

On the ground, in a pod, while Alan watches overhead from TB2, there's not much Gordon can do in retaliation for the way he's being picked on, but he makes a mental note to smack his brother solidly in the back of the head once he's back in the cockpit. As it stands, he grinds his back teeth together and changes gears again, switching back and forth between forward and reverse, rather aggressively along the edge of the riverbank. He's fixing to give his brother a proper piece of his mind, when Alan comes at him out of the blue with a question he hasn't anticipated---

"If you and her get married, d'you think you're gonna quit IR?"

This is not where Gordon had thought the conversation was going, and it's a surprising enough question that he guns his engine a little too hard, in the act of getting himself unstuck from the riverbank. The pod's treads come free all at once, and the thick mud that had gummed up the whole works suddenly grows slick and untrustworthy, and the pod goes plunging over the top edge of a freshly reinforced levee, to land squarely in the river. This is deep, swollen right up to its banks with rainwater, but despite how damp and filthy Gordon feels, the pod is completely watertight, even as it as the nose of it finds the bottom of the riverbed, the whole vehicle upended about fifteen degrees shy of vertical. He's jolted against the restraints, sudden and uncomfortable against his collarbone, but not as sudden or uncomfortable as his little brother's question. He'd thought it had been dark before. Dropped below the level of the water, it's pitch black outside the pod, and the inside is only illuminated by the pod's protesting systems, which are blaring all manner of alarms and alerts about the current situation.

"...Fuck, Alan!" he explodes at his little brother, temper finally bubbling up from below the surface. "Lookit what you---"

"Hey, this one's all on you, bro." There's an unbearably smug note in Alan's tone, because he's not wrong. Goddamn brat. When he gets back aboard, Gordon's just gonna throttle his little brother. Overhead, TB2 will be lowering itself into position, preparing to drop a cable and haul him and his stupid pod out of the river. "Should've been paying more attention."

"Yeah, well, what the hell is with the fucking third degree about me and Penny! Jesus!"

In lieu of an answer, predictably, there's the solid, ringing impact of a magnetic clamp being fired at the exposed back end of Pod-A, upended in the middle of the Ribeira Grande with Gordon fuming inside of it, angry about the situation and deeply annoyed with his baby brother for needling at him.

"What the hell d'you even care, anyway?" he snarls, still irritated. There's another jolt of his shoulders against his harness as TB2's not-inconsiderable lifting power starts to haul him out of the river. "I don't know why I thought I could talk to you."

"Kinda doesn't seem like it matters what I care about, when you whine about her for an hour straight." The pod splashes upward out of the river, but Alan doesn't set him back down on the banks. Instead he continues to pull the pod upward into into the belly of TB2's cargo bay. "We're done here, by the way," he adds, cheerfully. "We've been done for about twenty minutes, the local police guy radioed me that we could clear off, they've got it handled from here."

Gordon mutes his radio and swears an extremely unkind but unheard blue streak at and about his little brother, and thinks about how much better he could've spent those past twenty minutes. Time and distance get mixed up in his head sometimes, especially at times like these, when he's rambled for what his brother thinks was an hour. Gordon can't honestly pretend he kept track. He'd only been trying to pass the time.

The pod gets pulled securely up into the cargo bay, and as the bay doors close beneath him, there's a moment of absolute darkness. Before the halogen lights of TB2's interior flood on, there's a brief pause, a silence and a stillness that swallow him up and then spit him back out as brightness floods the space around him and the pod docks properly. Gordon shoves the hatch open and climbs out. His pulls helmet off and throws it on the ground so hard that it bounces, just in time to be caught in the act by his little brother, descending on the lift from the cockpit. Gordon looks up to see a cheeky smirk plummet off Alan's face, replaced with the abrupt, wary caution of a younger sibling who realizes that he's accidentally crossed a line.

Alan's wide-eyed and baby-faced and all pseudo-twelve-year-old innocence again, as he shifts where he stands, suddenly awkward and contrite. "I was just messing with you, Gordie," he tries, summoning up a feeble half-grin, and reaching for the same diminutive Gordon had tried, maybe hoping to placate his older brother. "It's only been like five minutes since we could go. I was gonna tell you, but then things were just getting interesting, and I figured---"

"What?" Gordon snaps, pushing a hand through his hair. This has gone all cowlicked and curly in the humidity, damp with sweat to the point that its dissolved away the industrial strength hair gel meant to last the past twelve hours. He glares at his little brother, who has the sense to look appropriately cowed. "What'd you figure, Alan, that maybe she's all I wanna talk about because I miss her like crazy? We're working ninety goddamn hours a week and she's all I can think about and Scott still doesn't even know? Because yeah, actually, I'm scared as hell to tell him, but you wouldn't understand why!"

The silence that falls after shouting at his brother seems to fill the cargo bay from the bottom up, like water rushing into the vacuum of an empty space, a hollow roar that slowly fills with the sound of Thunderbird Two's VTOLs, on autopilot.

The problem with yelling at Alan is that he does look like a twelve-year-old, and so almost instantly after cussing him out for whatever reason, Gordon almost always feels like an absolute monster; like he's the sort of person who'd kick a puppy. He kicks his helmet instead, venting the last little flare of his anger and in its place feeling every last minute of the last twelve hours, playing achingly along his muscles and nerves. He takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment as he closes his eyes, and then lets it out as a heavy sigh, with an apologetic shake of his head. "...Sorry, Al."

When he looks up, Alan's still lingering on the lift, and looking at him like even his immediate apology might be a trap. Probably with good reason. Gordon's always been quick to scrap with his older brothers; arguments with Scott, deliberate antagonization of John, and the occasional parody of an altercation with Virgil---but he's always tried to keep his temper in check around Alan, on account of Alan's the only little brother Gordon's got. If he's always been happiest as the baby of the family, it's because everybody babies him, and Gordon no less than the rest of his siblings. Yelling at Alan makes him feel worse than he had before.

"I didn't mean to make you mad. I was just screwing around. I'm sorry." Alan offers his own apology like an olive branch, hesitant and awkward. "it's just it's the first time I ever heard you talk about her like this, I guess, is the thing. I didn't know you were, like, really serious."

Gordon shrugs wearily, bends to scoop his helmet up off the ground, and then trudges across the cargo bay to join his little brother aboard the lift. It'll be his turn to fly home, at least for the first shift, and they've got about eight more hours to spend in the air before they can make it back to Tracy Island. They're just about as far from home as it's possible to be, and Gordon can't help thinking about how much easier it would be just to fly to England instead, and the hell with Tracy Island. "I shouldn't have gone off on you," he says dully, acknowledging the mistake. He clambers up onto the platform with another sigh, as Alan toggles the switch to bring them back up to the cockpit, starts the lift with a slight jolt. "I'm just tired. I don't wanna talk about Scott. I dunno how to tell him about me and Penny. I dunno what the hell he's gonna say. But it's not like it matters, anyway, because I don't know when I'm gonna get any goddamn time."

"We're working way too much," Alan agrees fervently, quick to commiserate, eager to work his way back into Gordon's good graces. He follows obediently as the lift reaches the cockpit and Gordon makes his way to the pilot's seat. "You're the second best in TB2 after Virgil, and nobody else can really cover for TB4. You're pulling a lot harder than the rest of us."

That's maybe true. Hearing it acknowledged, even just by Alan, lends a legitimacy to the shortness of Gordon's temper, and just how quickly his mood had turned. It doesn't quite make him feel better, but it goes a little further to soften his sharpness with his little brother, as he offers back, "Yeah, well, it's not just me. At this rate, you're gonna have a pretty lousy birthday." He settles himself in the pilot's seat, starts to switch the autopilot over to manual control so he can set a course for home. "Maybe Virgil'll manage to haul his lazy ass to the kitchen and stop Grandma from inflicting a cake on the rest of the family. Maybe John and EOS can figure out how to get you the day off. Maybe Scott'll even let you have it." And then, magnanimously, just to make it clear that all is forgiven, "Hell, I'll cover for you if that'd help. You shouldn't have to work on your birthday."

"Oh, nah. I dunno." Alan drops himself into the co-pilot's place and shrugs, and it's with a maturity beyond the last of his teenage years that he admits, "I kinda wouldn't mind, I guess, if we end up working. I kinda didn't wanna say so, 'cuz everybody's so tired and mad and stressed out lately---but I like being busy. I get out more when I'm backing you up in TB2 than I ever do in TB3. And...I just...I like it, you know? I like this job. There are worse ways to spend a birthday."

"Yeah. Guess so."

#talented amateurs #TA meta #Gordon Tracy #alan tracy

[comfortscripts]

Hello! I really like your ships, they are very sweet and fluffy and I was wondering if I could get please get one as well for the marauders? I'm a straight female so I'd prefer a male please!

Physical description - I'm 5'9 and I have long wavy dark brown hair and brown eyes. I have a fair skin tone, I'm slim and I've got full lips and slight dark circles under my eyes and I have broad shoulders. I dress mostly in relaxed suits, blazers and coats and I love the occasional dress or sweaters layered over a white button down!

Personality description - It takes me a while to feel comfortable around new people but once I do, I become really talkative and outgoing. I love helping out and I'm the therapist friend, people come to me to vent or for advice and comfort. I'm smart and ambitious, I love being the best at everything I do, though I sometimes struggle with the hardwork and conviction needed to get there. I'm quite the hopeless romantic and I love being in love! I also daydream a lot and I can get lost in my own world for hours. I can be quite dramatic and stubborn and I tend to be withdrawn at times. I get frustrated easily and I'm quietly competitive. My love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch.

Hobbies/likes - I love reading, my favorite genres are fantasy and poetry. I also love learning about new things and collecting knowledge, I'm very interested in psychology, history, mythology and folklore, and fashion! I adore adventures, witty and playful banter, joking around and having indepth discussions on anything and everything! I adore all forms of art and I have quite a few creative hobbies! I listen to a lot of modern/indie rock and I love watching psychological thrillers and romcoms.

Placements - I'm a ravenclaw, my mbti is infp and my enneagram is 4w3!

Thank you very much! I hope your exams went well and that you're having a good day <3

I am so glad you enjoy my ships and thank you for being so sweet!!

James Potter

Hopeless romantic? James is like Prince Charming from a cheesy romance book

Candle-lit dates, terrible pick-up lines and random flowers

As both you and James are competitive, sometimes romantic gestures can turn into a competition of who can make the other blush more

The both of you are the well-dressed couple. Looking like you stepped off a show in Milan with the height adding to the look

Prongs is smart like you, but he has tons of determination and would often motivate you to reach your peak

You help bring him back down to earth (sometimes literally) by slowing his life down a bit with deep conversations or reading side by side for a few hours

The affection between the two of you is adorable (or sickening according to Sirius) but there always needs to be some physical touch

James is use to being in control and being the leader of everything so when you allow him to just relax, he feels like he is truly content

You give so much effort and care to others, and James likes to remind you that you need to be listened to and cared for as well

"This is ridiculous, James. How is hitting a bludger going to help me finish an essay?"

Your shout echoes through the empty Quidditch pitch as James readies the practice bludger, a calmer version to improve accuracy and minimise injury.

"Because my lovely, every time you hit that thing, you are going to get some of this tension out." Placing the bat on your hands as his hand lingers on your shoulder. "And afterwards, we are going to go back to the library and you are going to smash out that essay"

"It won't work but I'll indulge you because I love you" Stealing a quick kiss from his smiling lips, before stating. "If this is nonsense, you owe me a full day of cuddles and books, understood?"

He nodded as he released the bludger, it flying towards you as you swung.

Thunk

You managed to hit it on the first go. Hit after hit, releasing every ounce of frustration that stupid essay had conjured up, and allowing your boyfriend's shouts of encouragement to fuel each swing.

It might have been 10 minutes, it might have been 10 hours but eventually, you were calm and had a glint of determination in cutting through your cocoa-coloured orbs like a golden lightning strike.

James thought you looked like perfection.

"You know baby, I am quite glad Ravenclaw hasn't made you their beater. Don't think we'd stand a chance."

Playfully hitting his broad chest before interlocking your arm with his as you strut towards the castle. "Thank you Jamie, that was just what I needed. Now let's go nail this essay"

If you hadn't been so pleased with yourself, you might have heard the love-sick whisper leave the bespectacled man's mouth.

"Good Godric, I wanna marry this girl"

#ship #ships

[bearodrigues]

I was dressed for success, but success it never comes.

I am having an emotional set of days.

While I'm writing this now, my boyfriend is in NY for an opening of a group exhibition which he is a part of, my close friends are partying all over Berlin and I'm sitting at home at half past three with my left arm on a sling due to a tear on my shoulder muscle.

I didn't get in at one of the programs that I applied to. Neither I managed to get the open call for queer artists I wanted. And earlier today I was informed that I have not passed the exam for my level of german for the second time. This was only this week - if I back it up, I could also say that I was about to go to Milan for a magazine and it didn't happen, I missed the deadline for one application for an interesting art program, another application didn't go through due to bureaucratic reasons, and even the immigration in Israel gave me a hard time on new years eve - yes. this was only this year, and we're still in March. I'm flying to Brazil in the next couple of weeks and I have nothing concrete to tell my family that I have achieved here so far, since they don't consider my relationship or my friends or anything besides money or career-related things an achievement (but they should).

I know, right?

A bit more than a year after I decided to turn this tumblr into a proper blog with a purpose, and I'm still not managing to do it as I thought I would. More and more the theme of Failure keeps popping up into my life. It seems to be the drama of my generation. I'm turning 30 in one month and 2 days from now, and at my age my parents had a way different lifestyle. My grandparents? Let's not even go there. 

To be lost is a privilege. My lovely boyfriend stated that recently about Berlin, but I'm taking it further to the fact that to me, and the people that fall into the white middle class category, it is a damn privilege. I can be lost, because I can fall on my feet, like a cat. Most people in the world are not as lucky - and that makes me feel even more like shit.

So basically let's now try to count the failures that every now and then strike me like a lightening bolt: 

1. the privilege makes me feel like I'm failing as a good human being

2. I have 2 and a half bachelor degrees, but I'm still working in something that's not my field of studies out of necessity

3. I am barely paying my bills. every now and then I have to go for my savings.

4. I am not learning german as fast as I need to (not for my own expectations, but for my visa).

5. I am not getting into any universities I want.

6. I am not being a creative/successful photographer.

7. I am not being good to myself, since I push myself so hard to be in a "better place".

8. I thought that by my 30s I would be in a better situation.

I have those 8 things in my head pretty much everyday when I wake up. In my mind, they loop and take shape of many other insecurities due to my anxiety issues. I have to fight many battles with myself in order to keep me energetic or motivated. It is not easy, and in some days I honestly just want to stay in bed and cry and never come back again - but I do. 

Today one of my best friends sat with me in my kitchen while I cried my ass off trying to explain all of those things and a few others more to him. It all comes down to plain old Frustration, feeling powerless facing situations one cannot control, trying to adjust expectations to reality, and so on. He listened, as he is a very good listener and tried to point out what was irrational, what was expected given the circumstances, but mostly he kept repeating to me that I was getting better and that things were happening in a very slow pace, but happening nonetheless. 

Truth is: he is right. 

Another truth? The expectations that we have as individuals are coming from a highly demanding society that requires people to be always on top of their games but gives zero support for it. In the creative field that is, let's face it, full of privileged people this becomes even more of a problem: first they sell you this idea of how artists must be tormented people, then when one has real problems that are indeed tormenting, they are punished by not being this happy happy joy joy creative successful minds that are always doing and always being positive.

For real? 

Before technology gave gigantic steps being an artist or working anywhere art-related was not accessible to most people. Therefore only a few were photographers, designers, painters, novelists, composers/musicians, usually those whose families allowed them to study more than work. 

This is still the case with some of the professionals nowadays but now the focus has shifted. Because there are so many people who can now learn the basics and insert themselves into the market, those who really want to stand out have to study more and work harder but not only: they need connections. 

Actually, everybody needs connections. As a sociable species, our whole lives are about building ourselves our safety networks, and if your way of thinking is works more as a net instead of a linear sequence this makes even more sense. In a way everything is connected. Chaos theory has said this a long time ago and for that I could be called a believer. 

With so much pressure coming from our social environment it is no wonder that self-esteem is, as the koalas and the blue arara, an endangered species. How to be confident in an economic system that invades all our relationships and shows us how unworthy we are and that teaches us to measure everything according to profit versus loss? The only means that we can access for self-confidence are superficial and turned into beauty-related products. 

I can tell you for sure that I am failing at my self-esteem big time. Since the past months I have been finding very hard to find good things about myself, most of them due to those eight reasons listed above. With close-to-zero belief in myself and my own abilities and talent, however, how to achieve anything? How to feel the impulse of creating anything?

It is like the chicken-egg dilemma, we never know who comes first. I don't know what should happen first: should something good happen through my effort so I can see some results or if I have to believe I can do it in order to put successful effort?

I am not failing only at myself with myself, then, I am also failing in fighting this cycle of failure. Meta-failure, meta-suffering, meta-frustration. I could go on listing the failures I feel at the moment, but to the very least I succeeded on writing this text.

*(this text is specially dedicated to Amit and our endless daydreaming about better things for ourselves and to the never ending patience of Ben, Uri, Toni and Natassja)

#failure #success #privilege #white privilege #art #creative

[harttohartforever-blog]

The Road Not Taken

Chapter 1 July

"Darling, I've been thinking a lot about Jonathan Jr, I keep remembering how he called me dad. I liked the way it felt, even though I knew I wasn't his father. What would you think about trying to have one of our own?" Jonathan looked more nervous than she had ever seen him, sitting at the patio table with his face in his hands. The supper plates needed clearing and the crickets chirped an evening song as the silence stretched out between them.

"It would mean a huge change in our lives," Jennifer responded at last. "And at our age, it might not be so easy to get pregnant." She added, well aware of every one of her 43 years. She thought of all the years of blithely avoiding a pregnancy. Then she and Jonathan found each other and now she wanted more than anything to have a child with him.

"If you don't want to then just say the word and I'll never mention it again," Jonathan said earnestly, taking her hands for emphasis. "You are all the family I need." The logs in the firepit crackled loudly. Her face, normally so open and expressive, was in shadows, making it impossible for him to read her thoughts. An eternity passed before she spoke again.

"I want to talk about it. It just feels sudden, it feels like it's coming out of left field and I want to say it right. I would like to have a child, I would love to actually. I just figured that door was closed. We weren't exactly young when we got married and that was almost nine years ago. I've been afraid, really afraid, to get my hopes up. With all of our adventures over the years, there has never been just the right time to bring it up. I guess in my mind if we didn't try then it was still a possibility. Are you thinking you would like to try and have a baby?"

"Well truthfully, I don't think I have the hips for it," He joked to lighten the moment and Jennifer reached across the table to swat at his arm. "Okay, okay, bad joke. But I think I would like having a child. I'd like to try anyway."

"Well, if we are both in agreement then why don't we go upstairs and start practicing right away." She offered with a saucy grin. Jonathan's face was beaming as he kissed her fingertips.

"Mrs. Hart, have I told you how much I love you?"

"Once or twice, but tell me again. I love hearing it."

"You are amazing. Just when I think I know everything about you, you find a way to surprise me all over again." He stood and offered her his arm. "Dance with me, Darling?" He started to hum as she stepped into his arms. It took her a minute to place the song he was humming as he waltzed her into the house. It was Until You Let Go from one of her favorite plays, Frankie and Johnny.

Jonathan had always been a tender and generous lover but tonight their lovemaking had a special feel. Jennifer could almost believe they were conceiving a child that very night. She held him close, skin on skin as he moved in her, the hot July wind blowing through the canyon and under the eaves.

 Chapter 2 October

The cream-colored leather interior of the Hart Industries Gulfstream was both luxurious and beautiful, but Jennifer hardly noticed. She had learned that a few of the other members of the Board of Directors liked to 'turn a card' on occasion and had coaxed them into a cutthroat game of poker. Jennifer was ruthless at cards, even Jonathan would only play casually beside her to avoid suspicion while she relieved the others of a significant amount of their folding money.

Tonight she was even worse than usual. She had sworn off alcohol while they were trying to get pregnant. A long flight plus zero champagne made for one ornery wife. He had begged out of the game a few hands back and now he just sat across the aisle looking at her. He could never get his fill of just looking at her. Usually, she caught him and got embarrassed, but today she was focused on the game and didn't notice his gaze. She was casually dressed in black slacks and the soft deep green blouse he had bought her last year in Milan.

She was so lovely, even with the intense look of concentration on her face. He let his eyes trace her tumble of loose curls, her coral lipstick, the swell of her full breasts behind the green silk. Suddenly, he stopped breathing, his mind racing as he tried to remember. It had to have been before that dinner with the Hawthornes, God what a nightmare that had been. He'd nearly nodded off over his meatless steak, Mrs. Hawthorne had recently become a vegan.

Mr. Hawthorne had been droning on and on about his trip to Nogales and the fascinating world of industrial equipment supply. Jennifer had slipped out of her heels and kicked him under the table then rested her stockinged foot in his lap to make certain he didn't start to doze again. Her unpredictable sense of humor was the only thing that made such evenings bearable. He had passed the next hour rubbing her foot under the table while trying desperately to avoid getting too aroused from her foot resting oh so casually against him.

Now as he cast his mind back he was certain she hadn't had her period since then. His mind was racing, hardly daring to hope, Her diaphragm had remained in its box, gathering dust in the bedside drawer since that night in July but this seemed too fast, too easy. Given their age and Jennifer's irregular periods he had resigned himself to the process taking months, if it happened at all. He was almost afraid to mention it to her for fear of tempting fate but they had to know.

When she finished the game and had collected a nice little pile of what she called her pin money, he moved over to sit down beside her. His voice was cracking as he quietly asked her about her period. Jennifer's eyes went wide as the import of his words sank in and she hurried to grab her datebook, flipping the pages backward rapidly.

"August 5," she breathed. "Do you think it's possible ... "

"When we land in Oslo we can try to find one of those home tests until we get home and can see Dr. Paul. Until then let's try not to get our hopes up." The rest of the flight passed far too slowly for either of them. Despite their assurances to the contrary they both kept drifting into daydreams of a chubby-cheeked infant with blue eyes. Fortunately, the rest of the Board who were traveling with them entertained themselves and left the couple alone, blissfully wrapped up in each other. Except for one junior executive who was traveling with his boss and mentor.

"They act like they are honeymooners."

"Hush boy," the older man told him. "You should be so lucky as to have a woman look at you like that after so many years."

 A week later their two heartbeats were the loudest sounds in the room as they each held their breath, watching Dr. Paul's every move. She made some adjustments to the machine next to the exam table and then flipped a switch. Suddenly the room was filled with a loud whooshing sound.

Jonathan had to swallow twice before he could get the words out. "What is that?"

"That is your baby's heartbeat. Or I should say, that's one of your babies heartbeats." She responded with a smile.

"They have more than one?" He questioned.

"No, they each only have one. What you have two of is babies. I can hear two distinct heartbeats." She fiddled with the machine again and the whooshing changed tempo.

"Twins?" It was Jennifer's turn to sound incredulous. Two babies! Her mind went completely blank. She couldn't think of a single one of the questions she had meant to ask Dr. Paul. Fortunately, Jonathan was still able to form somewhat coherent sentences.

"What do we do now? Does Jennifer have to do anything differently? Is having twins more dangerous?"

"There will be some slightly increased risk when it comes time to deliver. For now, you don't need to do anything. Jennifer probably won't even notice any differences from a singleton pregnancy until she gets much further along. She might tire easily, it's very hard work building a human from scratch, even more so building two. Just see that she eats right and gets plenty of rest. Jennifer, I'll want to see you back in four weeks." Dr. Paul patted her shoulder. "Oh, and congratulations you two." She left the room with a final smile.

Jennifer got dressed in a daze. She floated out of the office barely hearing anything. Jonathan had to take her wrist when he stopped at reception to settle the bill and schedule the next visit or she would have drifted right onto the elevator. He couldn't miss the way one hand cupped her stomach protectively, though it was still flat for now.

At home, that afternoon the roses had shed their summer blooms and Max was mulching the beds when they approached.

"We wanted you to be the very first to know ... Uncle Max." Jennifer told him holding out the ultrasound photo.

"Mr. and Missus H. This is wonderful! I'm so happy for you guys." The normally reserved Max hugged them both tightly.

"We were hoping you would agree to stand as godfather for them," Jonathan added. Max was speechless, he just wiped sudden tears from his eyes, but when he started to turn away Jonathan reminded him of one of the Max-isms he always used,

"There's never any shame in crying or loving."

   Chapter 3 February

Indian summer had seemed to hold onto Los Angeles forever and Jennifer spent much of it drowsing beside the pool. Dr. Paul had been right, she was tired a lot of the time. She had cut back on her magazine assignments, focusing mainly on pieces she could research and write from home even though Dr. Paul had given her permission to fly, as long as she stuck to the Gulfstream and not Jonathan's puddle jumper.

Christmas had been a wholly different affair this year. Rather than jetting off to Gstaad or Monaco, they chose to stay at home, cocooned in their own little world, endlessly speculating on the changes the new year would bring.

At just under five months along Jennifer had started to show in a way that was no longer easy to camouflage with a loose jacket or untucked blouse.

"Arghh." She threw down another outfit in frustration. "Nothing fits," she complained. She was stalking around the closet rejecting outfit after outfit wearing nothing more than one of Jonathan's pajama tops. He put an arm around her, his other hand resting on the small swell of belly that had made itself known over the past weeks.

"Let's go shopping," he suggested. "The post-Christmas crowds should have cleared out by now, and as fetching as you look in my pajama tops, you need some clothes, Darling."

He took her to Motherhood Maternity and A Pea in the Pod. They found plenty of dresses and comfortable slacks, but all of the nightwear available was much too utilitarian for Jonathan's taste. He loved so much to see her in slippery silks and filmy chiffons, in yards of lace and soft marabou trims. He just couldn't understand why everyone assumed that a woman stopped wanting to feel beautiful and sexy just because she was having a child. Her assortment of negligees outnumbered her daytime clothes because he could never resist buying her more. Since they couldn't find anything that fit the bill, Jonathan had hired a dressmaker to reimagine some of her favorite styles as maternity wear.

His current favorite was a bias-cut, silk slip of a gown in a deep dusty rose color. It floated on her skin and brought out the fire in her hair.

She was wearing it now. Jennifer knew how much he loved it and, as her pregnancy progressed it was clear that he delighted in her changing body. Whenever they were in the same room he was always beside her. Always touching her face, running his hands through her hair, or pulling her into his lap. In bed, he cupped her breasts and very gently brushed his thumbs over nipples grown almost unbearably sensitive.

Tonight she hadn't even made it out of her dressing room when he slipped behind her and wrapped her in his arms.

"You are so lovely." He told her now.

"Will you still feel that way when I look like an overinflated beach ball?" Her words were teasing but he could hear the faint thread of worry laced through them and he kissed her neck.

"I will love you no matter what. Isn't that what we promised when we got married? I seem to recall words that effect." He kissed her again, holding her close, his desire evident. "I'm more afraid you won't want me to touch you when you've had two little babies hanging onto you all day."

"Jonathan, I will always want you. Your touch, your kiss, you're my life. Besides," she smiled at him. "I'm going to need you to remind me that I'm still a woman when I've had two little babies hanging on me all day."

His hands grew ever more urgent on her body.

"Come to bed," He murmured against her skin, and she let him lead her into the bedroom. In the silence, he lifted the gown from her body, a diffuse glow emanating from her still-lit dressing room as he mapped her skin slowly. Showing her with every inch and every kiss how much he still desired her.

They made love urgently, with a need they hadn't felt in months. Recently, their joinings had been slow and sweet, they came together like golden amber honey. But tonight was dark, smokey molasses, touching, kissing, all tangled together. And when it was over, when she was sitting breathless in his lap and he was softening inside her, she laid her head on his shoulder and fell asleep. Jonathan pulled the comforter up around the two of them and held her long into the night.

 Chapter 4 May

"Oof." Jennifer struggled to sit up. She looked very funny rocking herself from side to side but Jonathan knew better than to laugh or even smile in her direction. Instead, he came around the bed and helped her to her feet. She was five weeks out from her official due date but Dr. Paul had cautioned them that twins often came early and to be prepared.

Jonathan hoped that it happened soon. He still found her as beautiful as ever but her stomach was so distended and swollen she looked like she could burst any second. She had lost weight everywhere else and she looked too thin except for the load she carried. He felt miserable for her. It hadn't been an especially warm spring but she was so overheated that they had taken to setting the air conditioning down to sixty degrees. He and Max just wore sweaters around the house to help make her more comfortable.

Jennifer was eager to get the little soccer stars out too. She couldn't get any sleep with one or the other constantly kickboxing her bladder, and her delight at their early nudges and tumbles had long since given way to the earnest hope that they would quit her womb as soon as possible. She had been experiencing Braxton-Hicks contractions for almost a month now. The first couple of times they had rushed to the hospital, only to be sent home again. Dr. Paul assured her she would know she was in labor when it was real but she still had her doubts.

Once Jonathan had her on her feet, he helped her into the dressing room and then into her underclothes and a lightweight sundress. She had been forced to give up her beloved high heels so, for now, her favorite shoes were a pair of black satin Daniel Green boudoir slippers from the '40s.

Max set a bowl of assorted melon chunks at her place on the table, she couldn't manage anything heavy. Sometimes it felt like she was existing solely on chilled fruit and popsicles. This morning she managed only a few bites before she pushed the bowl away.

"Mrs. H, you gotta eat. You hardly touched your supper last night." Max had fretted over her like a mother hen throughout the entire pregnancy.

"I've eaten as much as I can. I think I am going to go rest in a lounge chair on the patio. Maybe stretching out will help. My back is killing me."

Jonathan helped her up again. He was reluctant to let her too far out of his sight. He was constantly afraid she would fall or trip over Freeway since she couldn't see where she was walking anymore. Once she was settled into a chaise in the shade with a novel and a glass of lemonade he slipped back into the house and upstairs with Max.

He had wanted to surprise Jennifer by getting the cribs set up in the bedroom suite across the hall that had been designated as the nursery. They had already stripped the hardwood floors and stained them a pale driftwood grey. The walls were painted a grey so light it was almost white. Jennifer called it alabaster, and she had made the workman install clear plexiglass panels all around the railing of the small balcony on the other side of the french doors at the far end of the room. In the afternoon the sunlight streamed in through those doors and hit the crystal prisms she had hung up, where it splintered into a thousand tiny rainbows dancing on the walls and ceiling.

The pristine white changing table was already set up between the two white dressers filled with blankets and bibs and diapers. And there were two bassinets ready in the master bedroom, just a few steps away from their bed. But the cribs had been sitting in the corner unassembled for almost a month. They had elected not to find out the babies' genders, so they hadn't settled on things like crib linens yet. They couldn't resist getting a few things though. His and hers versions of tiny onesies and footed pajama suits so small they looked like dolls clothes.

They both had declared that they didn't care if the babies were boys or girls but Jonathan secretly hoped at least one was a girl. He dreamed repeatedly of himself doting on a little girl who was inexplicably born five years old. He wouldn't mind a son either, although he had no intention of naming the boy Jonathan Jr. Jennifer had declared no J names so while they had a few favorites they had decided to hold off on a final decision until they met the kids.

Meanwhile, Jennifer had given up on her book and instead was dozing lightly, dreaming of babies. An endless row of bassinets and she was rushing from cradle to cradle feeding, changing, and burping babies, trying desperately to keep up. Logically she knew she was luckier than most. She had Jonathan and Max to help her as well as the resources to have a baby nurse should she want one, but she was still afraid that two babies would prove to be too much for her to manage. She had told Jonathan the truth when she said she wanted a baby. But as an only child with no close cousins, she had never spent any time around babies and was scared she wouldn't be able to cope.

She was startled awake by a new sensation, a sort of electric tingling in her belly and she became aware of a slight dampness between her legs.

There was no sudden rush of fluid like they always showed on television but she was still certain her water had just broken.

"Jonathan," she called out but there was no answering voice. "Max?" The only response from the house was a sharp bark from Freeway who trotted out to sit beside her. "Jonathan," she raised her voice a little louder. The tingling had progressed into a sort of pinching twinge. She wouldn't call it pain exactly but it certainly wasn't comfortable and she had a sudden urge to move around. She struggled, trying to work herself out of the patio chair but she couldn't get any leverage to lift herself up.

"Jonathan," she called again. "Freeway, go get daddy." The little mutt obediently disappeared into the house. She hadn't expected him to actually understand but the pinch was fading now so she sat back in her chair to wait. She knew he wouldn't leave her alone for long. Sure enough, in about 20 minutes, he came out onto the patio, Freeway right behind him.

"Darling, I need your help." She held her arms out for him to pull her upright. "I need to get upstairs and change my clothes. My water broke." He helped her into the house but when he tried to head towards the front door she stopped him.

"We don't need to go to the hospital quite yet. Dr. Paul said not until the pains were less than ten minutes apart." Indeed the first twinge was only now being followed by another. She made her way upstairs slowly, leaning heavily on both his shoulder and the railing. They stopped for a moment on the landing so she could catch her breath and then into their bedroom and her dressing room beyond.

Her labor was fairly easy those first few hours. The hardest part was enduring Jonathan and Max fussing over her but she knew it was only out of an excess of concern so she tolerated it with a smile. Jonathan had called Dr. Paul who again told them to keep track of the pains and when they were nearing ten minutes apart to bring Jennifer to the birthing center. At last, the pains seemed to be somewhat regular and ten minutes apart so Max retrieved the suitcase that had been packed and ready for the last month and Jonathan helped her to the car.

 "I see our favorite frequent flyer is back. Third time this month." Irie noted with a grimace.

"Oh no, not again," Tianna responded. "She is convinced she was pregnant. She claims the 'bad people' took the baby away, cut it out while she was sleeping. Dr. Black loaded her up with Risperidone and Olanzapine. She's parked in the hall waiting for a psych bed to be available."

"The meth has rotted her brain. And I don't think she was too tightly wound to begin with. Yes Sir, how can I help you?" Irie pivoted back to the admissions desk.

"My wife is in labor. We are meeting Dr. Sofya Paul here." Jonathan began.

They had written a birthing plan that allowed Jonathan a maximum level of involvement although Dr. Paul had cautioned that things could change quickly once they were actually in it. Fathers fainted, mothers changed their minds, and with the added stress of delivering twins, there could be complications that forced her to banish Jonathan to the head of the bed or even from the room altogether. She cautioned them not to panic if that happened. The birthing center was attached to a large and well-equipped hospital that could handle any emergency that arose.

In the birthing suite, Dr, Paul declared her four centimeters dilated and progressing well.

"You might want to take her for a walk up and down the hallway." She told Jonathan. "The movement should help her along." She patted Jennifer's hand comfortingly. You're doing great. By this time tomorrow, you should be welcoming your beautiful babies."

When she had left the room he helped Jennifer to her feet and draped her robe on her shoulders. He kept telling himself that he was ninety-eight percent excited and two percent scared but deep down he knew it was the other way around. He was ninety-eight percent scared to death something might happen. Everything had gone so easily up to this point and he was terrified of some unseen danger putting any of them at risk.

He and Jennifer paced the corridors, dragging her IV pole with them, a bag of glucose solution making sure she didn't get too dehydrated or fatigued since she hadn't been able to eat anything. He fed her ice chips when her mouth was dry and when the pains became too strong to walk he half-carried her into the spacious bathroom and put her in a hot shower, stepping in behind her unmindful of his clothes, and holding her up when the pains seemed to come right on top of each other. He felt every contraction with her and he wished that he could take them in her place.

Lunchtime came and went but Jennifer couldn't eat anything other than the small cup of jello on her tray. Dr. Paul walked in just as the nurse was scolding her for not eating and she sent the unfeeling woman away, much to Jonathan's secret delight. Then a quick examination showed that Jennifer had progressed to eight centimeters and he cheered out loud.

They were in the home stretch now. Panting heavily, Jennifer asked for some juice but Dr. Paul told her not to eat or drink anything more. The admonition was wasted as just then the fiercest pain yet grabbed all of Jennifer's attention. She breathed her way through it puffing like a steam engine, sweat beading heavily on her brow almost as fast as Jonathan could blot it away.

There was no longer any breaks between the pains and Jennifer wanted to push but Dr. Paul told her to wait a little longer. The nurses prepped the room for the double delivery. Jonathan was half sitting on the bed behind her, arms wrapped around her. She was holding both of his hands, squeezing them tightly as the pains ebbed and flowed. He would bear the deep red marks of her grip for hours afterward but in this moment he never felt a thing.

It seemed like an eternity passed before Dr. Paul instructed her to push. From that point, things moved very quickly.

"Jonathan, it's time." Their birth plan gave Jonathan the opportunity to help with the delivery if there were no complications and he quickly moved down to the space that Dr. Paul indicated. When they had discussed this in the doctor's clean, cozy office it hadn't seemed real. Learning how to catch the doll and ease it out of the mannequin had seemed so simple.

But now his hands were shaking, his vision was blurred, and his heart was racing. He was terrified he was going to drop the baby or hurt Jennifer, or both. But Dr. Paul was right there beside him, encouraging him and reminding him of the steps they had practiced. The head was already out and he reached to support it in one hand and ease the shoulders forward the way the doctor had shown him, then in a rush the baby slipped into his hands. He stood there for an interminable heartbeat in awe of what they had created then laid the infant on Jennifer's chest. He was so carried away that he didn't even think to look if the baby was a boy or a girl. Fortunately, Dr. Paul was more observant than he was.

"You have a son," she told them. Jennifer cradled him against her chest breathing heavily, her work only half done. Jonathan wrapped his arms around them both.

"Thank you," he sobbed again and again. He wasn't sure if he was talking to Jennifer, Dr. Paul, or maybe God. A nurse gently took the baby just as the next pain hit Jennifer. Jonathan kissed her very tenderly and moved to be closer to Dr. Paul again.

The delivery of his second child was no less beautiful and awe-inspiring than the first and he laid their daughter on Jennifer's chest. The nurse brought their son back, all cleaned up and swaddled in a blanket and traded babies with Jennifer, taking the little girl to be cleaned and weighed. Dr. Paul finished tending to Jennifer and made some notes in her chart before she and the nurses left the room.

The little family was finally alone. Jonathan lifted the babies out of the clear acrylic hospital bassinet and laid them in Jennifer's arms. He sat beside her on the big bed and took one of the white swaddled bundles from her.

"I suppose we should decide on their names." He said quietly. Jennifer loosened the blanket on her baby enough to read the label on the tiny ankle monitor.

"I've got the boy. I think our top two choices ended up being Asher William or Leo Thomas."

"I think he looks more like a Leo than an Asher, don't you Darling?"

"Yes," she kissed the peach fuzzed top of his head. "Welcome to the world, Leo Thomas."

"And now for you little lady." He looked down at the baby girl asleep in his arms. "I think we both agreed on Allegra but we were stuck for a middle name. I have a suggestion that wasn't on our list." He paused and looked down again at the baby. "I'd like to call her Allegra Domenica after Sister Domenica at the orphanage. She was the first one to encourage me to reach for the stars. She took me to the library every week."

Jonathan didn't often speak about the orphanage he had grown up in. This Sister Domenica must have been a tremendous influence if he wanted to name his only daughter in her honor. Jennifer hoped that one day she would hear more about the extraordinary woman who started Jonathan on the path that led them to this moment.

"I think it's perfect," Jennifer said quietly. "Leo and Allegra Hart."

  Chapter 5 May cont.

The babies had both nursed and fallen asleep, so Jennifer decided to take a shower. She knew Max and some of their friends would want to visit and she didn't want to see people with sweat-matted hair and a hospital gown. Jonathan insisted on staying right in the bathroom with her while she showered in case she slipped or needed anything. She couldn't believe how tired a simple shower left her, she felt like she had run a marathon. By the time she was done, she needed Jonathan's help to dry herself and put on the pretty gown and bed jacket from her bag.

Allegra woke first, damp and fidgety but she settled right down with a dry diaper and wrapping her blanket back around her. Jennifer dressed her in the pretty baby bow she had slipped into her suitcase 'just in case' so they could tell the babies apart at a glance and nursed her while Jonathan started to lay out clean things, ready for when Leo awakened.

Jennifer silently blessed Mrs. Fitzsimmons, who had stitched all of her lingerie. The bodice of her gown was made up of hundreds of tiny pintucks that must have taken hours to press and stitch. Hidden in the tucks were openings so that she could nurse very discreetly without a lot of fuss and fumbling to keep herself covered. Her bed jacket had a deep waterfall of silk for a collar, plenty of material to drape in front of the baby and further shield her from view as she nursed.

Their first visitor was Dr. Paul, come to check on her patients.

"Everything looks good. The twins are latching on correctly and nursing well. Jennifer, you seem to be healing nicely. I'll want to see you in my office in six weeks. Roslyn can schedule you. But remember you two, no sex until after your checkup. Good luck to you and your beautiful

family." And she left them with a cheerful wave.

A nurse came in a few minutes later in rumpled scrubs while Jonathan was getting showered himself.

"I've come to take the babies to the nursery." She said.

"Oh, no thank you. We will be keeping them with us. It's all in our birth plan, there should be a copy in my chart." Jennifer told her.

"I'm supposed to bring them to the nursery." The nurse insisted stubbornly. Jennifer started to get a creepy feeling from this particular nurse. It wasn't just the wrinkled scrubs, the woman had an unhealthy pallor to her skin, and her hair was uncombed.

Jennifer groped blindly for the call button but she couldn't find it without looking and she didn't want to break eye contact with the nurse. There was definitely something off about the woman and the longer she stayed in the room the more convinced Jennifer was. There was a mulish look on the nurse's face, like a child having a tantrum but eventually she gave up and stomped out of the room.

Jennifer's sense of relief was palpable but she chalked the experience up to miscommunication and the overwrought nerves of a new mother. She didn't see any point in mentioning the encounter to Jonathan. When he came out of the bathroom she was calmly nursing Leo, Aly contentedly lying beside her looking around.

Max was their next visitor, barely visible behind two large teddy bears and a vase full of blush pink roses that he deposited on a side table. He turned to the babies in the little bassinet and picked up Leo carefully.

"Hiya kid," Leo goggled at him contentedly. "I'm your Uncle Max. I'm gonna teach you how to play gin, and take you to the track and the ballet. I took your dad to his first ballet too. And to always watch over your sister, don't let any mean boys pick on her." He gently set the boy back in the isolette.

"Hello little lady,' He scooped up Allegra and held her securely. "I'm your Uncle Max. You and me are gonna have great fun. I'm gonna teach you how to read the racing form, how to draw to an inside straight, And when to kick the mean boys in the shins." He laid her back down, straightening her blanket carefully. He didn't stay long, just long enough to congratulate Jennifer and ask if they needed anything from home. He confirmed that they were being discharged tomorrow and promised to have everything ready for the twins' homecoming.

Stanley and Deanne dropped by for a few minutes after lunch. And Jennifer's friend Maggie about twenty minutes after that. Throughout the afternoon people trickled in, leaving flowers and gifts for the twins. And between visitors, the nurses brought still more bouquets from business associates and the various charities they had supported over the years. The room became so full of flowers that the Harts began collecting the cards but sending the bouquets to other wards, especially the pediatric wards in honor of their new children.

Already differences between the twins were noticeable. Allegra nursed quickly with a minimum of fuss but she was prone to painful gas pains if she wasn't burped thoroughly after every feeding. Leo dawdled through his feedings, easily distracted, looking around at everything and waving his tiny fists. The corona of dandelion fluff on his head was a dark chestnut brown that showed auburn highlights in the sun. His eyes were sort of muddy blue that the nurses said would probably turn brown or hazel. But when they removed the beanie Allegra was wearing her hair was pure copper. There was no question about her eyes, they were a clear brilliant blue.

The next afternoon Max picked them up. He had been to the car seat clinic at the fire station and had car seats installed in the Bentley and even learned how to buckle them. He handled the babies like he'd been doing it for years, taking each of them from Jennifer and getting them strapped in without even waking them up.

 No one paid any attention to the petite woman in the over large army jacket and ratty sweat pants sitting on the bench near the door. She could hear them talking amongst themselves and she clearly heard the nurse call them Mr. and Mrs. Hart. They had to be using fake names, she thought to herself. Hart, to make people believe they were trustworthy and safe. But she knew the truth. They weren't safe at all, they had stolen her baby and now they were taking him away to do who knows what to him.

Didn't the doctors think it was strange this Mrs. Hart person was leaving with two babies? Unless ... could they be using some sort of cloaking device and the doctors couldn't see the second baby? That had to be it. She almost ran over to grab her baby back right now, they'd all have to believe her then, but there were security guards around and she didn't want to end up in the locked ward again. She would never be able to protect her baby then. She had their names now and it wouldn't be hard to find them. She would get her baby back.

 At home, they settled the babies into their bassinets and Jennifer laid down to rest. She was learning that keeping two babies fed and comforted was tiring work even with Jonathan taking all of the diapering and burping duties. It was nowhere near as scary as her nightmares but it was certainly daunting nonetheless.

The stream of flowers and gifts continued throughout the afternoon and Jennifer decided that they needed to host a party to introduce the twins to everyone.

"We can do a nice little open house for a couple of hours, say five or six weeks from now. All of our friends can ooh and ahh over the babies and we can thank them for all of this booty."

Jonathan smiled indulgently at her. He could deny her nothing and he already knew that he would be even worse where Allegra was concerned. Whatever she wanted, from a pony to her own roller coaster, he would move heaven and earth to give it to her. He was already wrapped around a finger no bigger than a match stick.

 Chapter 6 June

"Darling, what would you think about a little weekend trip? I was thinking we could fly up to San Francisco for a couple of days." Jonathan asked her as she sat in the rocking chair feeding Leo.

This cozy corner of their bedroom had become the babies space for now. Jennifer had placed a comfy rocking chair between the bassinets and a side table where stood a small lamp with a blue lightbulb. They had discovered that the blue bulb provided enough light to tend to the babies during the night without disturbing anyone else's sleep.

The clock on the nightstand read 3:28, Jonathan was putting Aly back to bed with a full tummy and a fresh diaper while Leo took his turn at the three a.m. feeding. He turned his head towards her and had one of those moments where time seemed to freeze, crystalizing this picture in his memory forever. Jennifer had her head bent low, watching the child at her breast in the soft blue light and Jonathan felt such a sense of perfect peace and contentment wash over him. She was so completely engrossed with the baby that he knew she hadn't heard him but he didn't speak again. He just sat and stared, memorizing every detail, until she carefully laid Leo back in his bassinet.

"I was thinking we might take the jet up to San Francisco. Go to the Mission Street Orphanage and introduce Sister Domenica to her namesake. Maybe do a little shopping and sightseeing while we are up there. What do you think?" He asked again as they both climbed back into bed.

"Sounds lovely, Darling," she answered him, sliding over to meet him in the middle of the big California king bed. She nestled up against him suggestively. The six-week ban on sex had been getting harder and harder but there was a certain enjoyment to be found in the frustration and anticipation of this time. This time she reached for him, her soft hands moving provocatively over his pajama pants.

"I love your initiative Darling, but I haven't done that since I was a kid." He told her.

"Shh," she told him now. "Just close your eyes and trust me." Her warm hand slipped past the thin cotton and her nails dragged lightly along his skin. She spoke softly, her lips brushing his ear and her voice low and husky. "Can't you feel me on top of you? Feel my body moving against you? Can you feel the heat between us, and that slight resistance as you slide inside me?" Jennifer had a way with words, he could almost feel it exactly as she described. His body was so attuned to hers that he could feel her now.

"Can you feel my breasts, so heavy now in your hands? Are you wishing I would move closer, just a few inches, close enough for you to get your lips around my hard nipples? Can't you almost taste them?" She was weaving a tapestry of desire that he was helpless to resist.

"Feel me now," she whispered. "Feel me moving over you. Feel our bodies mesh, our rhythm as we move together, the friction as you move within me." Her words spun themselves around him until he climaxed with a groan.

"Darling you are a never-ending wonder and delight." He told her as she brought a warm washcloth to clean him gently. He pulled her close, her lips were soft on his and opened sweetly at his kiss. "How shall I return the favor?" He asked her now while she snuggled into his arms.

"I'm sure we will think of something," she answered him sleepily as the approaching dawn brought the first traces of light to the horizon.

 Neither of them knew about the woman at the gate. She didn't ring the buzzer or even attempt to climb over it. She simply stood. In the middle of the driveway, wearing an army jacket two sizes too large and with dark hair falling in her eyes.

Her baby was behind these walls, she knew it. The bad people had taken it from her as she slept but a mother knows her child and she knew when she saw them leaving the hospital with two babies, that these were the bad people in disguise. She didn't know who the other baby belonged to or why the bad people were stealing them but she was not going to let them keep her baby. She would save him.

 The day dawned bright and fair as they packed their bags for San Francisco. It was an eye-opening experience to realize that they had one small bag for each of them and a much larger bag for each of the babies. They were only going for two nights but they had already seen firsthand how many clothing changes a pair of babies could go through in a day.

Jonathan had gotten their usual suite at the Fairmont Hotel and now the Gulfstream was winging its way north. The flight into San Francisco was short and uneventful. Leo slept the whole way but Allegra woke up as they were on approach.

"Look, Aly, it's the Golden City." Jonathan held her up to the window as if she could appreciate the great city spread out like a carpet below them.

Peter, the hotel manager at the Fairmont, came out to welcome them as always, and he marveled at the site of the babies they each carried.

"Aren't they precious. And look, this one's watching me." Indeed, Leo was awake and his eyes, which looked greener every day, were following the effusive little man's movements.

 Jennifer was merrily singing You Must Have Been A Beautiful Baby to the twins as she got them changed and ready for their excursion to the orphanage. Jonathan had called ahead and Sister Domenica was expecting them for tea in an hour. He hadn't mentioned the babies yet, preferring to make this introduction face to face. Downstairs, a limo and driver were waiting, much to Jennifer's surprise. She had expected they would take the cable car and walk the rest of the way. But Jonathan didn't want to try and navigate the trolleys with the kids being so young. She was surprised again to find two car seats in the passenger compartment.

"I was going to order a Towncar for us but there wouldn't be enough space for us both to ride with the twins. The hotel's limousine is the only option, I'm afraid. Peter has offered the use of it with his compliments and I phoned the nearest Baby Depot and had them send over a pair of infant car seats." He explained with a shrug.

Sister Domenica had retired from active service and lived next door to the orphanage, at the Sisters of the Good Shepherd convent. She was such a merry woman with her twinkling brown eyes and halo of white curls. Jennifer could see how a child would feel special in her presence. She had cried openly when Jonathan told her Aly's full name and they had been cheerfully reminiscing for more than an hour, Aly napping contentedly on her namesake's soft shoulder. She remembered Max, Jonathan had not been the only child he had mentored over the years, and she was so happy to learn that he was still with the Harts. All of the other Sisters had drifted through randomly to coo and fuss over the babies but at one point all conversation stopped.

A small, stooped, and very old woman in an all-white habit came toward them. Sister Domenica explained quietly that she was Sister Marie-Therese. She had been Mother Superior of the Order for many decades and she was 102 years old. Jennifer was struck most by the peace she saw in the old woman's gaze.

Sister Marie-Therese came to a stop in front of them. She may have displayed a very slight tremor as she laid one hand on each of the babies but her voice was still clear and strong.

"God our Creator, cherish these children. Jesus our Savior, protect them. Holy Spirit our Comforter, strengthen them. May the Lord Jesus, who loves children, bless you and keep you in his love, now and forever. Amen." She made a sign of the cross over each of the children. Then looked up at Jennifer and spoke once more.

"Bless you for the love you have brought into the world, and to this house." Then she patted Jonathan's hands in a grandmotherly way and walked out of the room.

The little party broke up soon after, but not before Jonathan had quietly made arrangements to pay the next ten years of taxes on the property. They returned to the hotel for a quiet supper in their room that evening and turned in early.

A day later on the way home, Jonathan teased her that it was fortunate they had their own plane as she had surely bought out the entire stock of baby clothes in the whole city.

"Me?!" She sassed right back at him. "You bought as much as I did. More even. Tell me what on earth Allegra is going to do with FOUR party dresses."

"Guilty as charged." Jonathan smiled. "A lady should never be without a proper party gown and she will grow out of them so quickly I had to get her an assortment of sizes. Besides, it's their birthday. They are one month old today"

 Where had they taken her baby? She fretted. The houseman had taken the bad people somewhere with both babies and then he had returned alone. Was her baby safe? What had happened to them? She had to know. She watched the gate all night and the next day. The houseman went out and returned a couple of times, but always alone. She needed to ask him where her baby went and that meant she needed to get inside somehow.

The next time he left she watched his car pull away then slipped in fast before the gate closed all the way. Darkness fell while she was still trying to find her way across the vast property. She was afraid to follow the driveway in case she was seen but she didn't know which way she was going in the dark and eventually she gave up and simply laid down on the ground and went to sleep.

She woke up stiff and disoriented. She was used to sleeping outside but in doorways, on bus benches, places like that, not in a field. She tried to think where she was and how she ended up here. Had the bad people brought her here? The bad people. There was something about the bad people she needed to remember. She closed her eyes again and went away somewhere in her mind. Her breathing slowed to only seven breaths per minute as her subconscious put the pieces together, sometimes she found answers that way.

The sun was on the wrong side of the sky when she came back out of it but she knew she had to find out what happened to her baby. She set out again this time scanning the terrain until she spotted the roadway again. This time she walked parallel to it, always climbing, until she finally spotted a house up ahead. She got as close as she dared then sat down under the cover of some bushes.

After an hour or two, she spotted the big silver car returning. But this time luck was on her side. The bad people were back. And they had the babies with them. She was so happy that she almost cried out and gave herself away. She watched them go inside. About an hour later she heard another car coming up the driveway. A delivery truck pulled up and 2 men began to unload a number of parcels. She saw a possible opening when all three of the bad people came outside to help carry packages into the house. While they were distracted she slipped around to the back of the house watching for another door.

She carefully entered through an unlocked kitchen door and started looking for the babies. Her pulse raced wildly and her mouth was dry as she checked rooms as quickly as she could. She found a back staircase and hurried to the second floor. The chirp of voices from downstairs was very faint now but she could move faster since she didn't have to worry about being seen.

She opened a door into what was clearly a nursery and she had a moment of nearly rational thought, Sunlight streamed in through the french doors and she looked at the rainbows all over the walls and thought maybe the bad people weren't bad at all if they had made something so beautiful. But then, they had stolen her baby and she had to get him back. He wasn't in either crib. Where could he be? She was getting more frantic as precious seconds ticked away. She finally left the nursery and crossed the hall to the last set of doors. If anyone looked up to the landing they would be able to see her but she made it into the room without being seen.

Finally, she spotted the bassinets in the corner and hurried over. She reached into the bassinet with the blue blanket and lifted out the sleeping child. Her little boy. He was beautiful. And she sat down in the rocking chair to marvel at him. His fluff of dark hair, his greenish-blue eyes, his clean baby smell, all overwhelmed her and she held him tightly. So tightly that he began to fuss.

Jennifer heard the baby monitor begin to sound and called to Jonathan

"That sounds like Leo, I'll get him," as she started up the stairs.

"If Leo is awake, then Aly won't be far behind. Max, can you take care of this?" He waved his arm at the parcels strewn about and started up the stairs after Jennifer. He was just getting to the landing when Jennifer opened the bedroom door and screamed. He was beside her in three long strides. His blood ran cold when he spotted the filthy woman awkwardly clutching Leo who was howling in earnest now. Her face and clothes were streaked with grime and she had bits of grass in her hair. As predicted, Aly woke up and began to sob in sympathy with her brother.

"Who are you?" He demanded "What are you doing here? Give me my son."

"No. He's mine. You can't have him."

"Jonathan, she is the one from the hospital. I didn't say anything because I thought it was just a miscommunication. She was dressed as a nurse and she tried to take the twins away." Jennifer gasped. Suddenly the woman pulled a dirty but very deadly looking knife from her waist and began waving it.

"He's mine, he's mine. You can't have him." She continued to insist. "You stole him from me. You're the bad people." She was growing more agitated, more shrill, with every breath and Jonathan worried she might harm the baby if things didn't calm down so he stopped advancing on her and began to speak in slow measured tones.

"Okay, okay. Let's take a breath, we don't want to scare the babies. Jennifer, I want you to calmly walk over to the phone and call the police."

"No." The woman shrieked.

"If he is really your baby then you will want a police escort to get out of here safely, won't you." He spoke as if it was the most reasonable suggestion in the world and he didn't have his heart in his throat at the sight of his son clutched in this insane woman's arms. "Now, why don't we all just sit down until the police arrive." His voice stayed calm and even, from the corner of his eye he could see Jennifer doing as he asked so the other woman did as well. She sat back down in Jennifer's rocking chair and began to croon to Leo who was starting to wind down to hiccuping sobs. She still held both the baby and the knife so Jonathan didn't dare try rushing her.

"He's fussy because he's tired. Why don't you lay him down while we wait for the police?" He suggested calmly. Her head was cocked to one side as if she were listening to something else, something only she could hear and she didn't put Leo back in his bassinet but she did lay the knife on the side table.

Jonathan didn't know how long they sat like that before he heard voices on the stairs and Lt. Grey called out,

"Jonathan, Jennifer, are you all right?"

"Yes, but come in slowly. We've got a situation in here."

"Jennifer filled me in on the phone. Just do as I say." The Lieutenant came in with his gun drawn but pointed at the floor. He didn't look at the Harts but focused on the woman in the corner.

"Ma'am, I understand you need an escort to take your baby out of here." The woman looked at him blankly for a beat before something like relief dawned slowly across her face. When she stood up she held Leo tightly but didn't even glance at the knife.

"How about if you hand me your baby so we can move fast if we need to." He suggested, still in that same reasonable tone of voice. The woman was convinced and handed Leo to him without hesitation.

"Now, my associate in the hall is going to get you to safety and I'll be right behind you." He continued to reassure her as they crossed the room and she trustingly walked into the hall and straight into the arms of several uniformed officers. Harry immediately handed the baby to Jennifer.

"I think he needs a diaper change."

"If he doesn't, I might." She answered with a shaky smile. The relief was plain on her face as she hugged her son tightly enough for him to begin to protest again. She couldn't stop kissing him as she hurried across the room to check on Aly, who had gone back to sleep, unimpressed by the events unfolding around her.

A dry diaper was not enough for Leo, who continued to fret, so she sat on the bed to nurse him. She couldn't bring herself to sit in the rocking chair with him but he quickly settled down at her breast, comforted by the familiar smell and touch of his mother.

She sat, aware of nothing beyond the comfort of his weight in her arms and the tug at her breast as her heartbeat slowed and her breathing returned to normal. Even after Leo fell asleep in her arms, she refused to set him down. In only a few weeks these children had become more precious to her than her own life. She would gladly have traded her life for Leo's if only the woman had set him down for a second or two, she didn't dare try to rush the woman with Leo between them.

  Chapter 7 July

Jennifer startled awake in the silence. She didn't know what had woken her at first until it hit her. The silence. Her body was telling her it was time to nurse the twins but neither one had cried for her. She had been fretful and snappish since the incident. Unable to sleep well even when the babies didn't need her. They had recovered much faster than she, even Leo showed no lasting effects from it.

She quietly climbed out of bed and tiptoed to the bassinets, her pretty burgundy gown swirling around her ankles. The room felt stuffy, they would have to adjust the air-conditioning again. She glanced briefly at the new rocking chair, Jonathan had replaced the soiled one within 24 hours. The bassinets were both empty and a shiver of fear gripped her even though she told herself firmly that Jonathan had probably gotten up with them. Nothing bad was going to happen.

They had beefed up the security system and the crazy woman ... Nora, she told herself determinedly, just a sad woman suffering from delusions, not a boogeyman. Nora was in a locked ward psychiatric hospital, she couldn't hurt them anymore.

Jennifer walked downstairs, feeling her way in the dark, towards the faint sounds coming from the kitchen. The door was open just a crack painting a stripe of light across the floor and she crept up to it and peeped through. Jonathan was dancing with a clearly not sleepy baby in each arm, singing A Thousand Years to them. She stayed hidden for an extra moment, watching her little family, with her heart filled to bursting with love and gratitude for her life. Then she couldn't hold back any longer and walked into the kitchen. Jonathan didn't stop singing, he just motioned her over and she wrapped her arms around them all, singing with him as they danced.

The sky was a pale indigo as the stars winked out one by one and they danced with their babies while the sun came up over the canyon. That was how Max found them an hour later. They each had a baby in one arm, the other wrapped around each other. Singing Love Me Tender and slow dancing around the kitchen table.

 The house was filled with people chatting and drinking champagne as Jonathan and Jennifer mingled, each carrying a twin. Allegra looked adorable in her tiny organza party dress and hairbow holding court from Jonathan's arms. Meanwhile, Leo was watching the event from his perch in Jennifer's arms and looking very dapper in a tuxedo onesie complete with tiny bowtie and cumberbund.

The chatter died down as Jonathan tapped his champagne flute for attention.

"We originally planned this party to introduce Leo and Aly to our friends but after recent events, we are just happy to have our beloved babies safe and sound. So we hope you all just eat, drink, and enjoy yourselves tonight." He raised his glass and said, "to Leo and Allegra Hart."

"To Leo and Allegra," the assembled crowd echoed.

[ivym3i]

25.10.17 - tlwm - blue washed

I wish I could sleep.

Steam clean the contents of my throbbing head, let me work without consciousness or anything to get excited about.

I stayed in there for an hour just trying to

melt this new skin off.

Dancing in the ballroom innards of a space ship. Its belly’s so full of my giggling and my plastic glitter heels. Champagne glasses, hanging like sleeping bats, simmer like thoughts in a brain.

He said you can see it when I think, that the front of my skulls recedes like a sunroof, like a skylight. There aren’t cogs in there as traditionally assumed, there’s energy chasing itself. It’s a pinball machine kind of set up.

The oil from your hair is on my finger tips. You dust my fingerprints with icing sugar.

Why go and waste like that if you already knew I did it? It woke you with a crack like lightning. Rain-sweat, all water, was pouring from your skin. You felt it ringing in your chest cavity with that dull, brimming silence, like the knowledge was breathing, a parasite resting behind your ribs.

Mars trembles when I jump on our king sized bed. Living lux, all faux fur and floor length dresses that glisten and glide like coi fish swimming surface level in the sun. I didn’t know it could be this good, baby, didn’t know we’d feel this bright and brainlessly good again. I bury your feet like saplings, sing you to sleep with a lullaby of my heartbeat, of the blood pumping through my veins.

Swimming in a seashell-shaped paddle pool like I’m flying, like I’m gonna make it to New Zealand.

I only cry in white gold, found out the yellow stuff didn’t match my complexion a few years ago. I abandoned it like blood-loss in a baby blue jewellery box somewhere deep in my closet, keeping the skeletons oh so pretty.

Bromeliads started growing on my fingernail beds last May. It’s gonna be okay if I can just get these plants to grow tall, if the sun would just come out for once, if the clouds would just part like they used to. Rob, baby, you’re smiling in my daydreams and you’re laughing in my memories. I graze myself on the gravel of your voice, I skinned my knees so bad so often when I was growing. I thought I’d be with you forever. Cradling my own face, swaddled like a baby on the midnight of my grandmother’s couch, blue-washed by your world. My favourite character was the genie.

He could fly.

He could sleep forever.

Where are the doves and stuff? Where are the angels?

You’d almost think we aren’t careering through space. The moon is red. It’s not covered in strawberry jam, it’s all roses up here. I dance with someone better than me until my right heel snaps and I find out there was champagne inside it all along. I eat the space sticks from my childhood, retreat like a dog in a storm into that intentional fake chocolate flavour, the one that could really speak your language at nine years old, through your cheeks and into your ears, tell you you’re gonna make it off the ground one day soon. I get carried up to my room like I don’t weigh much again. I love the pent suite. I love the view, hey.

I think I might make it to Milan. Paperwork, champagne, and surgery. I promise to buy you pearls and roses if you let me stay with you until I leave. Come with me when I do. Promise it will be worth it. I promise. I promise. I promise.

Oh it’s true, yeah, I’m not fat and hydrated with rosy cheeks and soft skin. This is just paint. I don’t suit gold anymore, not even on my eyelids.

I spilt myself all over our carpet and I really can’t get the stain out. I’m sorry this always happens, always get stuck like the genie in the bottle. Robin Williams your renaissance was my favourite. I loved you. I wanted to dance with you tonight.

I’m sorry everyone got it wrong.

Goodnight America.

When I first hexed myself into crying white gold, I thought it was fine if I turned it into jewellery later. I started carrying space like a parasitic twin. Then my wrists ate my bracelets, swallowed them up until they were just raised impressions under my skin.

I’m not irresponsible or greedy, it’s a compulsiveness, I gotta lie, I gotta keep lying to your face. I’m sorry my honesty fell out with my hair, I’m sorry you were the only one I ever opened up to, I’m sorry I’m slippery like scattered pearls and sharp like thorns. I’m sorry you gotta push my glasses up the bridge of my nose for me. Rob left me in the early hours of my tenth last regression and I wish I could sacrifice the blue in my veins to bring back the genie.

If the sky is pink and white tomorrow morning I’ll put off the day for another forty minutes, I’ll fly like I always do. I’ll crash land on whatever coastline of New Zealand I happen upon. If I put the day off for an hour I’ll skip down the bay and kiss the wet sand like I owe it something, I’ll play myself on Mark’s guitar and cradle Bindi until she sleeps, warm against my chest.

My skirt fans out like Saturn’s rings. I only wear sapphires in my ears and they sparkle like stars, depending how fast I twirl, who my partner is. Don’t fall silent but don’t talk too much. Strike the balance like a match. Let’s set the curtains on fire, let’s see if these strangers will melt like candles. Let’s watch maple syrup go straight to our thighs. Let’s name our headaches like  partners. Let’s affectionately refer to insomnia like a lover. Let’s watch our silhouettes twirl like masterpieces, perfect black forms dancing on the silver screen of the windows.

The stars make me dizzy up here. All this greenery fogs the mirrors. I wanted to set it up this way, I wanted robots mixing my drinks and my hair floating up like a troll doll’s but I didn’t want to look the Moon in the face like this. The roses look so fresh out there.

I managed to put tomorrow off for a month.

It’s hot. The sand sticks to my sweat, said it just can’t let go. I wouldn’t mind being left for eight hours in the cold now.

The breeze is like warm whispers on a neck. I feel as though I should turn away when it breathes along the coastline.

They’re having a moment.

Beat myself up with my six inch heels, maybe drown myself a little for variety, or pace until I’m ground down to the bone. I bathe in the pink and orange of the horizon, one of those laying down showers, very fancy. I wrap myself up in booming, bellowing indigo. Under the canopy of stars, the sequinned sky, there are striking parallels between the filling of my lungs and the expansion of the tide, its recession and reform.

I’ll just hand in my papers and slot myself right here, between the sea and the sky. I can eat fish again if that really helps, Mum. I just wanna feel the blue inside me, see it all around. I know I got that teal in my veins and those sapphires hanging from my earlobes but it’s different. I want the ocean to erode my flesh until I’m finally blue and clean. I want to reflect the blue sky on the canvas of my bare bones, I want to look baby blue to the naked eye.

I wish my eyes would change the way you clear a river, I wish the dirt would settle and the clarity of the water would ring out, crystalline and perfect.

I wish I could fall asleep,

blue-washed with the breeze on my neck,

on my grandma’s couch,

one more time.

#tlwm