#just look at albert then look at my ex i sigh

[satlun]

Just a reminder to myself, my ex DID NOT say this when I asked her to leave me. She just simply left.

[monzabee]

how you get the girl – cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you and your boyfriend Charles attend a gala for a friend and run into Harry Styles – who happens to be your ex. 

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: mentions of a past break-up, jealousy, possessive charles, angst? (only if you squint, or maybe not I don’t know), charles being charles, google translate French, anger?

Request: “Can I request a Charles fanfic with angst? Maybe famous singer reader used to date someone really famous like Harry styles and they run into Harry and Charles is really jealous and acting up/mad?”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this is my first time writing a fic, so all feedback is welcome and appreciated. i liked the idea that the anon named harry so i used him, but also i had to include taylor swift some way because she is the literal best. thank you anon for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” You sigh, fixing the way the neckline of your dress looks and meeting the eyes of your boyfriend through the mirror. “I know you’d rather be relaxing tonight than entertaining people.” 

Charles smiles softly as he keeps his eyes focused on yours, the green in his eyes shining just a little bit brighter due to the afternoon sun shining through the hotel room window. He abandons his place on the edge of the bed and comes closer to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Are you trying to convince me to stay back, or convince yourself, chérie?”

His question brings a mischievous smile on your lips and you shrug your shoulders with faux innocence as you lean your head back on the Monegasque’s shoulder. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, chéri.” Your use of the pet name he taught you when the two of you first went on a date makes him let out a laugh – well, you don’t know if it is because of your use or your pronunciation or your use of the word in general, but you’re hoping for the latter. 

“Well, I think you are.” He takes your hand in his and slowly moves you from your place in front of the mirror. “And it’s not going to work, because you—”

“Promised Helen we’d be there. I know, I know.” You huff, shaking out of his grasp and fixing his bowtie with a small frown on your face as you mumble, “I thought you F1 drivers would be into breaking the rules, but no, I had to find the only decent one.” 

Charles chuckles as he places his hands back onto your waist as you continue your mission with a relentless sense of seriousness. “Aw, you think I’m decent?” 

An urgency to smile snakes up onto your lips because of his question but you try to refrain yourself from doing so by twisting your lip, “Shut up, Charles.” 

“I think you’re decent as well,” he takes a moment to think with an exaggerated expression, “pretty, too.” 

You smile at your handiwork as you pat his bowtie twice and place your hands on the sides of your hips. “Is this your way of saying I look nice?”

He shakes his head and starts walking you towards the door, picking up your coat and bag, and ignoring your protests along the way. “But, yes of course. However, we need to go right now if you don’t want to make Helen angry at you for being late.” 

“At me?” You ask, confused. 

Charles laughs. “Well, yes, chérie. She loves me too much to get mad at me. You’ll have fun once we go inside.” 

By the time the two of you arrive at the gala, Charles has managed to uplift your mood (mostly by promising you pizza and sweets after the two of your leave the event). When you get to Royal Albert Hall, Helen welcomes you with a big smile and open arms. The three of you decide to grab drinks together at the bar and talk about the event, your latest recording deal, Charles’ upcoming season, and Helen’s new client who is a “twat-waffle in skinny jeans, but don’t worry about me, honey, I’ve seen worse.” She leaves the two of you to welcome newcomers, who are probably looking at her to congratulate her on the event. You place your glass on the bar and turn to face Charles, who is looking at you with a small smirk on his face. 

You sigh exaggeratedly and tilt your head to the side. “Fine, you were right, this is fun.” 

He matches your sigh, although with a lighter tone to it. “I know, I love being right.” He quickly finishes the rest of his drink and gets up from his place to offer you his hand. “Now, chérie, allons-nous danser?” Shall we dance? You nod your head, giggling as you take his hand and allow him to pull you onto the dance floor. With the alcohol coursing through your veins, you think this might be the perfect night. 

You and Charles dance through what feels like a hundred songs, but in reality, you lose the count after the third slow-paced song because the DJ decides he’s had enough of the slow songs for the evening and moves onto the fast-paced ones. Both of you jump up and down to the rhythm of the music as best as you can in your choice of heels for the evening, and Charles is there with you to do the same. He nudges your shoulder and wiggles his eyebrows when the DJ decides to play one of your recent songs, not shy to let the people around you know that it is your song. “That’s my girlfriend’s song!” he says, “Yes! It’s the new one!” 

After the previous song finishes, the two of you decide to retire for a bit, walking out onto the balcony to get some fresh air. You turn to Charles when you hear him chuckling and find him shaking his head. “Hey, what are you laughing at?” 

“You look like a tomato, mon amour.” He’s quick to add, “A very cute one at that.” 

You let out a shocked gasp, swatting lightly at his chest to cease his laughs. “It’s not funny! I never make fun of you after your races, even if you do look like a tomato.” 

“That is not true, and you know it.” His laughter continues, making you join him and soon after both of you are laughing uncontrollably; with you leaning against the railing of the balcony and him with his arms placed on either side of you to cage you in. After your laughter dies down, leaving you both in heaving breaths in to calm yourselves, he shrugs off his jacket and gently places it onto your shoulders. 

You gaze up at him, softly smiling through your lashes. “Thank you, my love.”  

You press your lips against the corner of his mouth, but he is quick to capture your lips in his, and his eyes are the last thing before you close yours as he starts kissing you. His hands quickly start moving and he drags them up your body to cradle your face between his hands as he deepens the kiss. You let out an involuntary whimper, in which he responds by gently tugging at your lower lip. In an attempt to bring him closer, you slip your fingers through the belt loops of his dress pants, which thankfully is not occupied by a belt. Charles’ response is to bring your face even closer as he keeps kissing you. The two of you don’t realise the sound of footsteps coming from behind you. 

“Oh, God, sorry.” A voice interrupts, and you quickly separate from each other, albeit a little bit unwillingly. You inhale deeply to regulate your irregular breathing, and let out a gasp as your eyes fall onto the intruder. Just as you are about to open your mouth, he beats you to it. “I can’t believe it, hi Y/N, it’s been ages!” 

Although Charles’ eyebrows furrow, he keeps his gaze focused on you only to turn around to face the intruder once you say, “Hi, Harry, it’s been a while!” He gives him a once over, keeping his hands on your waist as the two of you talk about the lost time. And yes, while Charles can be a jealous man – just like any other guy in a relationship who is as besotted with their partner as he is with you – he never considers himself to be possessive. He even likes Harry’s music, he mostly encounters the songs at the paddock before a race or after while doing media stuff, but he doesn’t have any issues regarding his music or him in general just because he is dating you because he is secure in your relationship to know just how much you love and respect him and the same goes for you. But standing there with you leaning against him while talking to your ex-boyfriend, yes he know he is your ex-boyfriend like the rest of the world thanks to your very public break-up, he just wants to take you away from there any to anywhere where the two of you can be alone. 

You leap off the railing you were leaning against when you feel Charles’ hands tightening on your waist and move one of your hands to cover his as you give him a slight squeeze. “This is Charles, my boyfriend.” 

He watches as you give him a polite smile and attempts to do the same, but it reality his probably comes-off as a strained one. Harry offers him a handshake as he smiles at him, “Hello, nice to meet you.” And then, he watches as the Brit turns his attention once against to you. 

“We missed you at the awards this season, you didn’t attend any of them!” Harry chuckles, shaking his head a little. 

You shrug and answer him with the same polite smile on your face. “Well, you know me, never been fan of the award shows in the first place.” 

Charles knows this, of course he does, because whenever someone starts to ask you about award season in the first place, you let them know that the awards are not the reason you write songs in the first place – the fans are. He tunes most of your conversation out as his insecurities take over his thoughts, he thinks it is funny in a way because your relationship might be the only one where he has felt like he could be himself without worrying about what you might think. Just as he is about the calm his fears by the logical side of his brain reasoning and telling him that he should probably stop acting like a fool, he hears Harry asking you about a song on your album which makes him throw all the rationality he has out the metaphorical window. 

“I-uh, I listened to your new album, it was very good.” Harry says. 

A wide smile finds a place on your face. “Oh, thank you, Harry! It’s nice to hear that.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I liked that one song the most, what’s it called, How You Get the Girl?” He thinks quietly for a split second. “Oh whatever – it was very good. But tell me the truth, was it or was it not about me?” 

“Sorry, can’t tell you that, it’s a secret.” You laugh. And he laughs. And Charles only watches the scene before him without being able to say anything because he is swarmed by all the thoughts he tried so hard pushing out of his head coming back. You must’ve notice his drastic change in mood because you excuse the two of you saying that you’re feeling a little bit cold.

“Oh sure, it was nice seeing you again.” Harry smiles at you, and then addresses Charles, “It was also nice meeting you, Charles. Take care of my girl, eh?” 

“You too, Henry.” Charles replies, without filtering his response in his head and hangs his head low to avoid any awkwardness. 

You wait until the Brit leaves the balcony and then focus on the man in front of you, “Charles–” you start, but he cuts you off with a low voice. 

“Can we just go home?” He inhales deeply. “Please.”  

Needless to say, the car ride home is quiet and tense. Charles acts like he doesn’t care, but you know deep inside that he is bothered by what happened and is probably overthinking the entire situation. The one thing you are grateful for is the fact that you didn’t drive to the venue but instead opted for a car service, thinking that you’d both be drunk by the time event ended. However in reality, neither of you are drunk and you are fairly sure Helen is going to send you a very angry text the next morning because you left early. When the driver announces that you’ve arrived at the hotel, Charles thanks him before exiting the car and you do the same before you lean over to open your door, but Charles is quicker than you and he does it for you. 

He is quiet the entire way up to your hotel room, but he has an arm around you and you place your hand right on top of his in an attempt to sooth whatever negative emotions he is feeling at the moment. He is also quiet when you get to your room, and he helps you pull off your coat and his jacket underneath the coat. He smiles for a split second, seeing his oversized jacket on your frame, but the seriousness returns as he helps you out of it. 

“Charles,” you say his name, “please talk to me.” 

“I’m okay, chérie.” He sighs and places a small kiss to you forehead. “I’m going to take a shower before bed, okay?” He leaves before giving you an opportunity to speak, and you are left behind, thinking about the last time he called you that pet name a few hours ago, and how he was smiling.

Instead of pushing him to talk about his feelings you decide to let him cool down, hoping that he would be more open to having a conversation about what happened after his shower. So, you take of your shoes and your dress – although you struggle to find the zipper for a while – and you take of your make up on the small vanity the hotel provided for you after you put on your pyjamas for the night. By the time Charles is out of his shower, you are waiting for him sat on the edge of the bed, playing with your fingers. 

“I thought you’d be sleeping by now.” He mumbles, weaving his hands through his wet hair. 

You can’t help the small frown etching on your face. “We never go to bed angry at each other.” 

You can see the change in his eyes, but even though his eyes soften at the sight of you, his tone is firm when he tells you, “I’m not angry at you, Y/N.” 

“See, I find it hard to believe that right about now.” You mumble, your eyes falling on your lap for a second. 

He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Just go to sleep, okay? We’ll talk in the morning.” 

“What? Why?” You ask, your voice wavering at the last syllable. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m just going to go over some statistics in the living room.” He doesn’t look at you, or let you protest. He picks up his computer from the abandoned backpack in the corner of the room and presses another light kiss to your forehead before going into the living room to try to get rid of the anger by working it off. 

And thus, you try to go to sleep – mainly because you know just how stubborn Charles is. His mother always tells you stories about when he was a kid and refused to go to bed in his pyjamas because he didn’t want to take off his karting suit. But you see how much he’s stubborn every single day, when he makes you get out of bed in crack-dawn of the day because you told him you wanted to start exercising with a “no, mon amour, you said you wanted to start running!”, or when he makes you eat your vegetables because “you can’t live off of chicken nuggets for the rest of your life, you’re in your twenties!”. But most importantly, you see how stubborn he is every time he pushes himself to be better; a better man, a better son, a better driver and even a better boyfriend. So, it breaks your heart to think that he is outside the doors of the bedroom, alone and contemplating things he shouldn’t have to because he knows just how much you love him. So, you get out of the bed, which isn’t very hard in the first place because it feels too empty and cold without Charles in it, and you march your way through the bedroom doors and into the living room where a certain green-eyed Monegasque driver is hunched over his computer in the low light. 

He looks up and his eyes go wide when he spots you, sleep evident in your eyes and there is a permanent pout on your lips. There is a silent communication between the two of you as he pushes his chair slight off the table for you to place yourself on his lap and consequently wrapping yourself around his sitting figure. 

“Chérie, you should be sleeping, it’s late.” He speaks in a low voice, encouraging you to go to sleep, but you know him well enough to read between the lines. 

Your voice comes of muffled because you cuddle against the side of his neck. “I couldn’t sleep because someone refuses to talk about his feelings and made me become accustomed to his cuddles over the past year and a half.” 

“Mon amour,” he sighs, “I am fine, you don’t have to worry about me. Okay?” 

There isn’t any emotional strain in his voice, unlike before, but you still don’t like the fact that he refuses to acknowledge his feelings. So instead of pushing, you pick your head up again and focus on his green eyes, “You called me by my name, and you never call me by my name unless I’ve done something wrong.” 

“That’s not true.” His voice comes off as a whisper this time. 

“It is and you know it.” You untangle one of your arms from around his neck to cradle his jaw and let your finger wander around. “Please tell me what I’ve done wrong so that I can fix it.” You think for a moment. “S'il vous plait.” Please. 

Charles lets out a frustrated breath and tightens his arms around your frame – involuntarily, or maybe not, but who cares, really? “It’s mine,” He grumbles. 

“What is?” You ask, tilting your head with genuine curiosity. 

“The song.” Now it is Charles’ turn to pout. “It’s my song, you wrote it for me. I was there when you recorded it and you told me so.” 

“Oh, Charles.” You coo, bringing your other hand up to his face and gently caressing his face as you straighten yourself up on his lap. “It is about you, my love, he was just joking.” 

You let out a chuckle as you hear him mumble, “Well, it wasn’t funny to me.” 

“Is this about more than the song?” You ask, continuing the movement of your hands. You smile as he lets out a dissenting mumble, “Good, because I would hate it if you thought I have eyes for anyone other than you.” 

“You would?” He mumbles, leaning into your touch. 

“Oh yes, I would be very upset.” You nod, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips. “And Charles?” You ask. 

“Yes, chérie?” He asks right back, his eyes not leaving yours even for a moment. 

“I’m sorry for making you feel that way.” 

“It’s not your fault,” His eyes become serious for a second again, but they soften at the sight of you quickly. “Don’t blame yourself, chérie.” He mumbles as he kisses you softly on your lips. “Okay?”

“But still,” You mumble, “I’m sorry for making you feel that way.” 

He sighs, but it is not a sad sigh like before. Which makes you think it is an improvement. “I’m sorry I can’t write songs about you.”

“What?” You ask, voice shaky. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m not– I can’t put my feelings into words that way.” His hands occupy themselves with the string of your pyjama pants. 

“I don’t need you to write me songs, Charles, and I don’t want you to change.” You press soft kisses around his face, making him smile involuntarily. “I love you just the way you are, you stubborn stubborn man.” You thing he’s about to say something, but can’t finish your train of thought because suddenly you’re being lifted off the chair and you’re in the air. You let out a shriek, “What are you doing?” 

“Taking you to bed,” Charles replies, and rolls his eyes as your expression changes. “To sleep,” he emphasises the second word, “méchante fille” naughty girl. You laugh as he puts you back on your side of the and tucks you in before turning off the lights and getting into the bed himself. He is quick to pull you towards his arms and cuddle you under his weight, which you’ve become accustomed to and helps you sleep better. “Go to sleep, mon amour.” He kisses you on your forehead again. 

“Charles?” You ask into the night, and continue once he lets out an affirmative hum. “Je t'aime.” I love you.

“Je t'aime aussi, mon amour.” I love you too, my love. You hear him say as you’re falling to sleep. “Tu es l'amour de ma vie.” You’re the love of my life.

[pagesoflauren]

Calamitous Love Collection: Delicate Beginning Rush (1/4

ex veteran!Steve Rogers x reader

Premise: Steve Rogers blows into town in search of some estranged family. As he settles into civilian life, he realizes leaving work is hard and perhaps the world will never stop needing him.

Warnings: depictions of PTSD, mentions of abandonment by a romantic partner, complex familial dynamics, sexual content.

Thank you as always to @eightcevanscentral. And thank you to you all, for not forgetting me. I'm happy to write again.

Main Masterlist

Ari blinks mutely at the stranger-who’s-not-actually-a-stranger sitting in his armchair, where he made himself comfortable without permission. With the information that was just revealed to him, he’s a little more possessive of every molecule in the cabin. 

His mother had opened the door, then stole everyone’s attention with her shocked gasp and the shrill sound of glass hitting the floor. Ari had rushed in and his wife, asleep on the couch, woke up and surveyed the surroundings. 

Soon enough, everyone was baffled by the appearance of a man named Steve Rogers claiming to be Albert Levinson’s half-brother.

As Ari continues to stew over everything he just learned, his wife pipes up, “Give him a moment.” 

“I’m going to need several moments,” he adds quickly, his voice dripping with his confusion. “You’re going to waltz in here and tell me that my dad’s father,” Ari begins, using hand gestures to help him keep track of all the people he’s about to mention, “My grandpa Alexander–whose last name is actually Rogers–left my grandmother Andrea Levinson and ran off with some other woman and had you?”

“That’s correct,” Steve says bluntly.

“And that makes you,” Ari points an incredulous finger at him, “My dad’s half-brother, and my half-uncle.”

“Correct again. Except, ‘half-uncle’ is a little odd to say because I’m about twenty years younger than your father. I’m probably only a few years older than you.”

“No,” Ari denies immediately, getting up from his spot next to his wife. “Nope, this is a dream. This is some crazy, twisted reality that I’ve been trapped in–”

“Ari, dear,” Bunny sighs, “This isn’t a dream, I promise. And…that’s kind of how family trees work.”

“And he’s not wrong,” Marcella adds plainly.

All eyes shift to her.

“You knew?!” Ari shouts, earning a stern look from him mother, which he quickly counters with an apology. “But…mom, why didn’t you tell me?” he whines. 

The women in the room roll their eyes and Bunny turns to Steve as Marcella begins to explain the matter to her son. “I apologize for my husband’s behavior. As you can tell, this news is quite a shock to him.” 

“I can’t say I blame him,” Steve shrugs. 

She mirrors his gesture, then offers him something to drink. 

“If it wouldn’t trouble you to get some water, I’d appreciate it.” 

“Not a bother at all,” she waves him off before getting up, walking past the other two in the room and drawing Steve’s attention to them. 

“...Your father and I just didn’t think it was so important. They lived such separate lives, anyway. And think about it, what does this change, after all? You still have this house, you have your wife, you have me.” 

“I just can’t imagine leaving,” he sighs, eyes drifting to his wife in the kitchen, standing on her toes to grab a glass all the way in the back of the cupboard. 

He’s told her many times to stop that out of worry she’d overextend the delicate tendons of her ankles. Went as far as building a step stool she doesn’t even use; he huffs a laugh to himself as he watches her move to the fridge and take out the water pitcher. The liquid sloshes with the movement and swaying of the various fruits she had put to make it just a little bit more refreshing. 

Strawberries, mint, and watermelon in his water; her hands in his; holes in his shirts with constantly fresh stitches; the prospect of filling frames with pictures of a growing family; she was home to him. How could he ever think about abandoning it? 

The idea that his grandfather did something he can’t begin to understand, that’s what sits in his stomach and tangles up his insides. 

Steve didn’t do that. He was just the product of it. 

His eyes follow his wife as she walks back into the living area, handing him a glass of water.

“Thank you,” he says softly, taking a sip before his eyes meet Ari’s. 

“Do you have a place to stay?” Ari asks.

“I was going to shack up at the inn after this.” 

“No need,” Ari shakes his head. “We have plenty of room here.” 

“Are you sure?” Steve chuckles slightly, “I think I broke your brain when I walked in and told my story. Seems like staying over would rock the boat even more.” 

The air in the cabin suddenly lightens, tension fading away as everyone laughs.

“On the contrary, what better way to get to know your family than by staying with us?” 

Steve shrugs and smiles, “Well, I guess I better get my things then.” 

Ari offers his help and the two men begin to bring Steve’s bags into the cabin. There isn’t much, about three pieces of baggage to bring in.

When they shut the door and appear to get settled, Marcella pipes up, “Oh good, you’re done.”

“Mama, what are you doing?” he asks, watching as she settles the strap of her purse on her shoulder. 

“I’m ready to go to town to get my nails done.” 

“Ma, I told you this morning–”

“Right, you have some silly little project to work on and my lovely daughter-in-law is cooking for the week.”

“I don’t think fixing a leak in the sink is–”

“Yeah, that one,” she waves him off, “Anyway, as I was saying, I wasn’t asking you to bring me. Steve has a car.” 

“Ma, he’s a guest–”

She scoffs, “Oh, please, he’s family, and it would give him a chance to explore the town a bit. Doesn’t that sound great, Steve?”

Mute from being put on the spot, Steve takes a moment to process before agreeing to do it. 

“See? Everyone’s happy!” Marcella chastises Ari.

She makes her way out the front door and the men hear a snort from the kitchen. 

Bunny pauses and looks up from the vegetables she’s chopping, “Welcome to the family, Steve.”

- - - 

After dropping Marcella off at the salon, Steve found a spot under a tree to park in. 

Stepping out of the car, the main avenue of the town looked familiar and foreign at the same time. 

It was a typical American small town busy road: cars parked along the sidewalk, wide streets and walkways, stores directly next door to one another, hustle and bustle. Every American knows it, and it’s likely non-Americans know it too. 

But when was the last time Steve saw one for himself? 

It wasn’t that long ago, but it feels like it was. 

Before the jet rides to quickly get from place to place. Before the case files and research. Before commlinks and codes. Before sleepless nights planning missions and long days carrying them out. Days would turn into weeks, weeks into months, months into years. 

He’s given so much of his life and focus into it that he doesn’t remember life where he wasn’t doing it. He knows there was something before it because every adult has memories of growing up, being a child, and going to high school. 

In Steve’s brain, those recollections are locked away in a corner of his brain he locked away to be able to do his job. 

The things he was afraid of as a kid, the insecurities that held him back as a teenager, the innocence everyone has before becoming an adult; he lost touch with all of it, lost touch with himself.  

It had gone too far on the last mission. His friend sent him home with the promise the team would be okay without him. 

The voice of a conversing family draws him out of his dazed state, catching a glimpse of two kids skipping while their parents gently caution them. 

Sighing, Steve moves onto the sidewalk and begins to walk down the street. When a door swings open, he sees the brief image of his walk: stiff, arms swinging in tight control and calculated steps as if he’s back at boot camp. 

Slowing his pace, he thinks about how to appear more casual; he is, after all, a civilian now. 

Relax, Rogers, he can hear Natasha say. No, seriously. We’re supposed to be walking through the mall, not running to the drill sergeant’s back and call.

He lets his shoulders deflate, shoves his hands in his pockets, and tries to find a comfortable pattern of steps. 

While he can’t be certain, Steve has that nagging feeling that he looks like an idiot. 

Pursing his lips, he decides to distract himself by looking at the various window displays along the sidewalk. There’s a certain small town comfort that comes from the bright colors and fun arrangements that are meant to attract customers. Different phrases like “fun in the sun” emulate the summer air, while silly props like turtle-shaped inner tubes evoke a type of nostalgia that most people are lucky to have when thinking of their long breaks from school.

Steve knows in the dark annals of his mind, those memories are there. 

Before he can deep dive into retrieving them while staring at a flamingo pool floatie, he’s interrupted by a parent pulling his son out from a nearby store. 

“Why can’t I have him now?!”

“If you can do your chores consistently for a month, we’ll talk about it. Puppies aren’t toys. They’re a responsibility, like your chores. And you keep putting those off.”

The conversation fades as Steve draws closer to the door the pair just exited, peering into the window. 

A handful of dogs of all ages yip and bark, some playing by themselves while others tumble around and bite each other softly. Their kennels line one wall, while the other wall is filled with two housings; one for a molly cat and a litter of kittens and another empty one, the door slightly ajar. 

Intrigued, Steve pushes the door open. 

The dogs all perk up at his entrance, some standing and wagging their tails, ears high with attention, while others bark at him. 

A woman rushes in from the back, a slightly resigned look on her face. 

“C’mon you all,” you sigh, “You know that’s not the right way to greet somebody, especially if you wanna get adopted.” 

Standing in front of some of the kennels, you stick your hands through the bars to nudge some chewing toys towards the more excited canines before turning to the other wall to attend to the kittens. 

“Sorry, Mocha, let me put this down and your kitties can keep feeding.”

As you pull down a makeshift shade to block the front of the kennel, Steve realizes the missing feline from the other cubby is perched on your shoulder, tail swinging in satisfaction as it maintains perfect balance as you walk around.

“Hi, I’m so sorry,” you greet him, “Some of the puppies are still in training. And Major over there is a rescue; he’s been through it, so he’s still warming up.” 

He follows your gesture towards a large German Shepherd standing on his hind legs. 

Reaching up, you remove the cat from your shoulder and laugh when it hooks its claws into your shirt.

“Shadow, we have a guest,” you giggle, and Steve feels a lump in his throat. Negotiating the claws out of the fabric, you rest Shadow onto your arm. “This cat’s been here for a while. He’s followed me since he was a kitten, and he’s got this beautiful black coat, so I figured ‘Shadow’ was a great name. Isn’t he lovely?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Oops, leave it to me to introduce the cat before myself,” you joke, tapping your forehead to point out your forgetfulness. You offer your hand as you give him your name. “It’s nice to meet you. I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I don’t think I’ve seen you before?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have,” he waves you off, “I just got here today.” 

“Well, welcome to Barber. What brings you to town?”

“Some long lost family.”

“Which one?” you ask, interest piqued. Then, your eyes widen bashfully, “Sorry, that was so invasive.”

“No, it’s alright,” Steve smiles, “I, um…do you know the Levinsons?”

“Oh Ari and Marcella! And Ari’s wife, of course. Yes, I love them. Marcella came in once and nearly snuck one of the kittens out in her jacket. Not that she was stealing from me, but she wanted to try to get it past her son. He wasn’t having it; though I think he would benefit from a kitten. He’s so gruff–oh my God, I talked way too much.”

The blond laughs and you think you might swoon. Setting Shadow down to wander around the shelter, you try to keep things professional. “So, what brings you in? Just here for some puppy therapy, looking around?”

“Well, if Ari doesn’t want a kitten in the cabin, I imagine he wouldn’t want a puppy,” Steve begins, looking at the dogs. “But I hear they’re good for…um…”

He pauses and you keep your posture, looking at him attentively as he tries to find his words.

“I’ve heard that adopting an animal could be good for a returning veteran.”

“Oh,” you comment, “Yes! I mean, that’s easy for me to say because I run the shelter; but really it’s easy to recommend a pet to anyone who is considering it. A father and son were just in here and the only thing that stopped me was the fact that the father was saying his son doesn’t tend to his chores. But I think with the right guidance, his son could be a good dog companion.

“In your case, though, I would say it could help you feel more adjusted. You’ll have something to do and a friend who will love you unconditionally. But, seeing that you just got to Barber…”

“It’s probably best to wait before I make a decision,” Steve finishes for you.

“Exactly,” you smile, “We’re on the same page.”

A few beats of silence pass over the two of you before you break it. “Would you like to still look around? You’re welcome to. I’m sure the dogs would be happy to interact with someone other than me.” 

Taking you up on your offer, Steve accepts the bowl of treats you hand him and listens attentively as you specify that each puppy only gets one treat. “And don’t fall for the puppy eyes. You laugh now and think I’m joking but these guys are good at what they do.” 

Approaching the first kennel, the chubby puppy with round ears perks up and yips, excited for an interaction. A rush of happiness fills Steve’s chest, helping him relax as he wedges two fingers between the bar to give the little guy a couple head scratches. Then, he reaches down into the bowl, holding the treat for the puppy to bite.

The puppy chews and Steve catches a glance at his description: suspected to be a mix of a Bernese Mountain Dog and a Boxer, the puppy is a boy with a lot of energy. He’s only a few months old and was found wandering in the grocery store and begging for scraps at the deli. 

“Well, your name makes sense, Salami,” Steve mutters, making eye contact and, sure enough, as you predicted, he’s begging for more treats. “Damn, she wasn’t kidding. I bet those guys at the deli gave you every scrap they could find before bringing you here.”

“Oh they did,” you respond from behind the counter. Looking up from your paperwork, your gaze switches between Steve and Salami. “You should’ve seen him. You think he has a soft tummy now, he was a complete pot belly when he was done over there.” 

The two of you share a laugh as Steve tries to conjure the image in his head. 

Every puppy has an anecdote to go with it, he finds out as he continues through the shelter. Some are happier than others, and it shows in your face as you tell the stories. Some even make your voice clog with emotion and you have to take a deep breath. 

“Sorry,” you sigh, “That’s what, the fifth time? Gosh, I have got to get it together.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” he reassures you, then quickly changes the conversation to focus on the last puppy. “What about Willow? Anything about her?”

“She’s the sweetest little thing. She’s got to be some golden retriever mix, I just can’t put my finger on the other breed. But, anyway, she found by Ari, your…?”

“Nephew.”

“Your nephew–” You start to go with it, until it registers that Ari and Steve appear to be the same age. Your voice catches as the gears turn in your head.

“Long story, I’ll tell you after this one.”

“Got it,” you agree. “Anyway, Ari brought her in. She was hiding under a pile of lumber that he was about to deliver. Apparently she led him on a wild chase around the lumber yard. When he brought her in, he was all sweaty and grumpy.”

“I think he’s always grumpy.”

“Seems like it. I don’t know how his wife and mother deal with it. But, yeah, that’s Willow’s story. I figured since she was found in the lumber yard, I should name her after a type of tree. I also thought about just naming her ‘Timber’ or something but I liked Willow.”

“I like it, too,” Steve says, looking back at the puppy. When his eyes meet hers, he realizes she never stopped looking at him while he was speaking to you. 

She gives him a dopey smile, tongue hanging out as she pants in excitement at the sight of him. 

“Looks like you two are having a moment,” you remark.

It all falls away at the sound of his phone ringing, causing a cacophony of barks and howls to arise.

You try to calm the dogs down as Steve clumsily finds a surface to put the snack bowl down while answering the phone.

“Hi Steve!” Marcella trills on the other line. “I’m all ready to go!”

“Oh, okay, Marcella, I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“Okay see you soon!”

The call ends there and you’re still trying to get the dogs to settle. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think my ringer was on.”

“That’s okay, it happens,” you brush him off. “I’m glad to have met you! Hope to see you around. Or hope you come back for Willow.”

“Yeah, it was great to meet you too.” He lingers for a moment, wanting to say more but no words seem to be right. “Actually, before I go, could I take a picture of Willow?”

“Sure, do you want to hold her?”

His face shows his nerves before he can express them, so you quickly retract your statement and turn to bring her out of her kennel.

Propping her up in your arms, you do your best to get her to look towards Steve’s phone.

“Oh, you can smile, too. You’re in it.”

“Oh, okay!”

Your smile is bright, radiating a warmth that Steve doesn’t think he’s ever felt before. 

When the picture is taken and it’s truly time for him to go, the memory of that grin makes it difficult to leave. 

As Steve walks down the avenue, he types a message to Bucky.

Life in Barber is off to an interesting start. Met the sister-in-law, the nephew, and the niece-in-law. But I think my favorite is Willow (picture coming)

After sending the picture of you and the puppy, he sees Bucky immediately start typing, his response brief but effective.

Who’s the girl? 👀

She runs the shelter.

Anyone of interest?

Steve takes a moment to come up with a reply, triggering Bucky’s impatience.

Or maybe not yet.

But she seems like your type, so I think it would be a person of interest. 

Rolling his eyes, Steve types a message simple enough to end the conversation there:

Maybe. 

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

Tags: @crazyunsexycool @blackwidownat2814 @brandycranby

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Proof I am exhausted? I can’t paint a hog!

I have a pet hog!!!! This is utterly shameful!!!!

See, I decided to paint a Death as Hogfather bit inside the box I’m doing for Mom. I quickly sketched a rough of it, then went back to what I was doing on the rest of the box.

And now I can’t paint it!!

I mean, I knew I’ve been tired. The first few nights went so easily, but each night it has gotten just a bit worse. I’ve always had good nights and bad nights when I paint boxes. On good nights I fly through, everything done in one take no matter how tough. On bad nights I paint and repaint, tweaking desperately, watching the the thing I’m painting swell and distort until it bares little relation to my intent, or anatomy. (See my Doctor Who box and look at the 2nd Doctor for an example of the swelling effect) Thing is, bad nights are starting to outnumber the good night.

I had a devil of a time with Death, and he’s just a skeleton in Father Christmas gear. As for Albert, well, best not to think about it. If I say it's Albert, it’s Albert I guess.

But then last night I decided to do the hog (only one would be in the “shot”) This was going to be so easy I was going to be done early for once! **

And at 2 am I was in tears.

I must have repainted that hog a hundred times, each one worse than before. I got so I was washing the paint off because it was turning into a sculpture from all the layers. By the time I gave up for the night I had obliterated all but the head (it isn’t too horrible).

And washing off the hog, because it was so small, led the painty water to seep all over, and now it looks like Death and Albert are flying through a dense fog!

And THEN I discovered that not only was I covered in paint. And Nony who had been sleeping on my lap. (Didn’t help he likes to stretch his paws or rest his head in the paint tray) And my clothes. And the chair. And the floor. (All a pig smaller than a quarter!) …I had smeared paint on some of the characters on the outside of the box! One little drop can destroy a whole figure!

But, okay, I can fix this.

So after breakfast I thought I would practice drawing a hog. Just to get my hand used to making the shapes.

And I couldn’t do it!!

Admittedly I’m a harsher critic. I know damn well what a full grown hog looks like. You don’t spend so many hours brushing, sharing treats with, having nose to snout “conversations” with Ryoga without knowing exactly what a hog looks like! ***

But, ugh. I HAVE to fix this! It’s Mom’s Christmas present, and I need it done not only in time to mail, but to catch any warmish day for spraying it with sealer.

**sigh**

Seriously, though, of ALL the things to cause me to crash to a halt why did it have to be a hog?!?

**So far I have been able to do an average of two characters per evening, running about two hours per character.

***Fun fact: I can’t watch a movie with a pig (ex. Babe) without noticing if the casting doesn’t match the description in the plot (male/female, age). They almost NEVER use full grown pigs. I mean, you think youth skewed casting only happens in humans! Which is kinda funny because I keep imagining how LOUD it must have been on set every time they pick up a little baby piggy. (They get quiet as they grow up, but believe me, the little ones scream a lot…like human babies really. LOL

[joanquill]

Chosen Family

Ending what your ex-lover has started, you follow William's plans to fruition, hoping his promise of a second life with your son (now sons) comes true. Continuation of "Unexpected Family Reunion" and "A Mother's Love".

Albert James Moriarty

Tag/s: Mother!Reader, Angst-ish with a Happy Ending, Long-ish (1.5k words) Warning/s: Murder, Death, Profanity Song: "Maddie's Lullaby" from Back to the Outback

"Whoops!" Lady Moriarty exclaimed as she threw tea onto your face, now holding the teapot above your head.

"Clumsy me..." she chuckled, shaking the pot as the last drop land on your head.

You took a deep breath and put on your best smile, surprising the countess.

"Apologies, my lady. I seem to have forgotten to boil the water," you confessed, shocking her as you took the teapot.

"I'll prepare another batch," you excused as you left the room, seeing Lady Moriarty ball for fists and grit her teeth.

As you walked down the hallway, you heard Lady Moriarty scream, followed by glass shattering and various things breaking.

You sighed as you wiped your face, tea still dripping from your body.

'William sure is something else...' you chuckled, quietly thanking the boy as you walked into your room, seeing William and Louis already inside.

"Are you all right?" Louis asked as he approached you, seeing your drenched clothes.

"I'm okay, don't worry," you reassured, patting his head and smiling at William.

"She reacted just as you predicted," you informed, making him smile.

"Then we will proceed as planned."

"What the bloody hell are you doing here!?" Simon asked as he entered the kitchen, glaring at you.

"Preparing tea," you innocently answered as you put the last sugar cube in the cup, stirring the tea.

"You were supposed to be with Lady Moriarty,"

"And I was. Until Lord Moriarty came in and asked for a cup of his own,"

Simon sighed as he pushed you away, grabbing the cup.

"Go clean the basement. You're causing enough trouble as it is," Simon muttered as he left, making you smile as you waved goodbye.

"Will do!" you reassured, hiding the pouch of drugs behind you as you kept your smile.

"Is that her...?"

"It must be..."

"How shameless of her to show up here again... Let alone show her face..."

You heard the other helpers gossip around you, making you sigh internally.

You turned to them and smiled, catching them by surprise.

"May I help you?"

"N-No, don't mind us..." a maid muttered as they walked away, giggling to themselves.

You rolled your eyes as you walked down to the basement.

'Simon's influence sure is something...' you thought as you opened the lights.

You gasped as you saw a crib by the side, baby toys and books stuffed inside it.

You carefully walked up to it and ran your hands across the rails, seeing how much dust had collected over the years.

You dryly chuckled as you wiped your hands, sadly smiling at the sight.

"Fourteen years I missed..."

"Congratulations, Miss (L/N), it's a boy!" the doctor announced as you heard your baby cry, making your eyes water as fatigue washed over you.

You weakly reached your hands for your baby, making the nurse carry him over to you.

"Congratulations," she smiled as she showed you your baby, making you smile as tears ran down your eyes.

"Albert..." you sobbed, grasping the blanket softly as he reached for your fingers.

"That's enough." Lord Moriarty announced as he moved the nurse away from you, making Albert cry louder as he took him.

"Wait, please...! I want to hold him...!" you cried out as you tried to sit up, but the doctors stopped you.

"Our deal was for us to pay for everything you need in exchange for an heir." he callously reminded, making you freeze.

"One that our son so foolishly made..." he grumbled, glaring at James as he looked away in shame.

"Please...!" you tried to sit up again as the nurses held you, "I need to hold him...! Please!"

"Quiet!" Lord Moriarty boomed, making the whole room silent except for Albert's cries.

"(Y/N), please..." James sighed, glaring at you, "Haven't you embarrassed me enough?" he whispered, making you tighten your jaw as tears prickled your eyes.

 "At least let me say goodbye..." you begged, making Lord Moriarty look at you.

"....No. We don't need you to get attached. You have done your job," Lord Moriarty concluded, carrying Albert out of the room, ignoring your screaming protests as James followed behind him.

"...How is she doing, doctor?" a nurse asked your doctor, hearing your humming in the room.

"Physically, she'll be all right with some rest. Psychologically..." your doctor sighed, "Her son being taken away is taking a toll on her... Just keep a close eye on her for now," your doctor concluded as the nurse approached your room carefully, knocking on your door.

"Miss (L/N)?" she called softly, bringing a tray with food and medicine.

You continued humming as you hugged a pillow wrapped in the baby blanket used earlier, your face completely drained with dried tears lining your cheeks, your whole body screaming fatigue.

"Sleep, little one... Close your eyes..." you sang, caressing the pillow gently.

"Miss (L/N)?" the nurse called again, but you showed no response.

"Let your worries slip away... Tomorrow is a brand new day..." you continued singing, making the nurse bite her lip, feeling her heart ache for you.

"Let her rest," your doctor whispered, pulling the nurse out of your room.

"She's been through a lot today... Let's give her some time," your doctor advised as he closed the door, your song continuing inside.

Shimmering moon and satin sky... Soft wind breezes, lullaby...

Dreams are here to set you free... The dawn will bring you back to me...

"The dawn will bring you back to me." you finished your song as you locked Simon's door, the candle in your hand lighting your path through the hallway for the night.

'Now... For the final phase...'  you looked up the stairs, your face in a permanent frown as you walked up.

You slowly opened the door, seeing James huddled over the dresser and coughing violently.

"(Y-Y/N)..." he called out, falling onto the floor.

"Help... me..." he hacked, reaching his hand out to you.

You only watched as he continued to cough, slowly now accompanied by his blood.

"Perhaps I should have upped the dosage..." you muttered, making him look up at you in shock.

"But then again..." you hunched down, "...I wouldn't be able to watch you suffer..." you grinned, dread washing over James' face as he tried to stand up, but his body was too weak.

"You bitch...!" he coughed, making you giggle.

"What? Did you think I was falling in love with you again? That you had another chance?" you questioned, grabbing him by the hair.

"You used my body to have a child and left me for another woman. And yet, you still had an affair when you were with her. Did you truly think I would want a man-- No... Filth like that in my life?" you reasoned, pressing his face on the floor.

"I've said it before, I'll say it again..." you muttered through gritted teeth, "I'm only here because of Albert and the kids... Nothing else..." you threw his head away, standing up and dusting your skirt.

"Well, I better get going... It's almost time for the fire to reach here..." you excused as you walked out of the room, grabbing the door.

"Goodbye, Earl Moriarty," you smiled, watching him crawl up to you as you closed the door and locked it.

You hummed your lullaby as Albert rested on your chest while William and Louis rested on your lap, watching the mansion burn down.

"Are you sure you're all right, Miss (L/N)?" Albert asked as he looked at the bandages on your burn marks.

"Yes... I'll be fine," you reassured, letting him rest again on your chest.

"It would be suspicious if only one of us got hurt, correct?" you asked, caressing Louis' hair.

"And..." you sighed, "...I owe you an explanation, Albert..." you sadly smiled, making him look up at you.

"About you being my biological mother?" he bluntly asked, making your eyes widen.

"How did you-" you looked over to William, who quickly closed his eyes, a smile still on his face while Albert chuckled.

"Of course..." you sighed with a chuckle, holding William's hand as you turned back to Albert.

"But, yes... I owe you that much, dear."

"Do we truly need to leave this early, Albert-nii-san?" Louis asked as William yawned beside him.

"The sun hasn't even risen,"

"We wouldn't want Mother to worry now, do we?" Albert smiled, making the two men chuckle.

"That is true... Last time she was at the train station already waiting for us," William smiled, remembering you greeting them at the station with treats in hand.

"And her birthday is today," Albert reminded, surprising William and Louis.

"How did you know? Mother wouldn't tell us anything about her past, let alone her birthday."

"Someone I knew owed me a favor," Albert vaguely answered, showing your government documents to the brothers.

"Then we should also prepare a small gift for Director Holmes," William smiled as Albert put the papers back in his bag.

"Now then... What gifts should we bring her?"

"Perhaps I can cook some of her favorites when we arrive home..."

"Shall we also prepare her a special bouquet?"

[frankensteinmf]

!!OUTDATED INFO!! the jester with his dear king oc x canon resident evil with Albert Wesker.

(this is based on my memory of Albert and Resident Evil lore) .... world control, that's all Wesker ever desired, what he considered he deserved. he'll use anyone and anything to get what he wants, with no sense of moral or empathy for even the smallest soul. it would all hold him back, from his greatest potential.. but who knew his loyalist merchant was one that would distract him.

after the events at Raccoon City, Wesker stayed underground. He knew Redfield wanted him dead, besides it wasnt worth the trouble. he knew Ada would just send him the sample once she gets back on her feet. Wesker looks over the monitors, collecting the data that was available. yet a small sound made him snap his neck towards the source of the noise: Laika. Laika, a former CIA agent turned traitor.. a wild card, one that is similar to Wesker but also the polar opposite. one that isnt psychically strong nor the smartest.. but the one who knows humans the best.. one that can act like its nothing, one that can break someone apart yet make them want to stay at the same time.. one who crafted the skill to manipulate those around him that he speaks his truth now.. yet despite it all, Laika has only been loyal with one person: Wesker himself. not much is known regarding Laika, he knows hes originally from Russia, seemly with no family nor loved one known or mentioned. Wesker isnt even sure if Laika is the guy's actual name or what motive he has. all Wesker knows is that for some reason Laika is extremely loyal to him and goes out of his way to protect him.. yet this time, Laika needed Wesker's help. Wesker had asked Laika prior to collect information regarding the current state of the S.T.A.R.S . what he didnt expect was for Laika to come back with a bullet wound in his leg yet he seemed unfazed, he politely put the briefcase on Wesker's desk before a sigh came from Wesker. ''.. could you try and stay in one piece for atleast a week? '' Wesker said in his stoic voice. before Laika could stop him, Wesker got up to get a med kit. '' had an run in with Valentine..'' Laika replied much more calmly and relaxed, almost like the wound isnt hurting like a son of a bitch. thats Laika: will downplay any and every wound he'll ever have till his grave. '' yeah a run in, almost like you should stay out of their vision. '' Wesker replied as he ripped the bullet out. '' i need you in good shape, there is no use then for a agent like you whos six feet under. ''

Laika hissed, its one of the few times he'll showcase any form of pain. Wesker wrapped Laika's leg with a some proper bandages before scoffing. '' now sit down before you try to run off again. '' Laika sighed as he sat down next to Wesker, he took a deep breath before looking back at Wesker. '' any information on Wong? '' '' negative, but shes suppose to be in Spain so i'll be able to watch over her soon once possible. '' Wesker answered swiftly. Laika nods as Wesker went through the briefcase with all of the requested data. Laika was quiet.. it was unusual, it just felt odd with how he portrayed himself to others, even Wesker. Wesker after having entered the data to his system got curious, Laika was a secretive person afterall. Wesker's went through the entire data system of the country that Laika provided to him, yet even with that: all he found out was that Laika seemingly was spotted in the country in 1978 but was hired to the CIA in september 24th 1981. ''.. for an immigrant citizen there is a concerning lack of information regarding your existence. '' Wesker commented, Laika looking at him before replying. '' consider that lucky, the lack of information make it difficult to locate or blackmail me. '' Laika replied with a chuckle. '' while it is very useful, its confusing.. you have ties with the American Government and Umbrella yet there is an lack of information regarding your past work.. its almost like it never existed or.. got erased. '' Wesker looked at Laika dead in the eyes for this. Laika looked back at Wesker, before a chuckle filled the tense room. ''.. Wesky, i've always been the messenger.. i decide what information is available or not.. those are the rules. '' ''.. i should expect that from you, your unpredictable nature and need to be ahead or in control of a situation makes sense with that mindset of yours.. what doesnt make sense is your loyalty.. what caused that? '' Wesker leaned down before continuing. '' from what i know: all you ever desired is watching the world burn for your eyes.. yet no matter what situation, you've been there for me. you've risked your life for me several times, carry out missions without much of a question nor hesitation.. what makes me different? '' Laika looked at Wesker, his smirk still there. his deep russian accent voice replied with a simple: '' you captivated me Wesky..''

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

ttwt episode 6

“Last time, on Total Takes World Tour: our remaining players stopped by the charming Polish city of Krakow, but the only charms they got were pain, pain, and no game! Bonnie went a little AWOL when they decided to switch to a nocturnal lifestyle, but that still didn’t stop their team from using them as a personal love coach- again. Albert got some bad news, but it was Kelly who really took the cake for most pathetic episode ev-ah after their non-monogamous ex decided to return to monogamy.... for someone else. Ouch! What does this mean for Kelly? What will become of Team Mojo with their mojo gone? Find out now, on Total Takes World Tour!”

“And here we are fleeing from the Bulgarian police. Pricks,” Patrick says, shuffling his handful of photographs while his team peers over his shoulder. 

“Aww,” they coo as Patrick flips to another Polaroid of Kitty being tasered. “And here we are getting caught by the Bulgarian police.”

“You guys are so cute,” Sha-Mod says. “How long have you been together?”

Patrick stacks the images and puts them in his blazer pocket. “We’re not. We’re more like… business partners,” 

Albert and Michela make fleeting eye contact and then shrug. Across economy, Bonnie yawns and stretches, rubbing their eyes. Max turns to them. “How much did you get?’

“Enough,” Bonnie says, then sighs after Max continues staring. “Two hours.”

“How are we supposed to win with you on autopilot?” he snaps, then lowers his voice to a whisper. “You expect me to carry the team with THESE people?”

He gestures behind him to Kelly, Staci, and Phillip, the latter of which is staring intently at a cockroach on the wall and holding his temples. 

Bonnie sighs. “Fine, I’ll get a coffee,”

---

“This has got to be the best season yet,” Ass sighs as a manicurist paints their nails. “If beating the other teams will be this easy, we might as well move in here permanently.”

“You’d think they have the numeral advantage, but we’re actually doing quite well. I’m impressed!” Courtney adds on. They stretch in their plush, first-class seat and sigh happily as the smell of breakfast wafts in the room. 

Julia watches the interaction and rolls her eyes before sitting back and pulling a sleeping mask back on to catch a few more minutes of sleep She kicks back and Mal slinks into the seat next to her, pulling out an ink pad and stamping her thumb print to an index card. 

“Mal!” Courtney shouts, pulling out a spray bottle and chasing her to the other side of the cabin. 

“It’s for my charity auction!” she yells. “It’s for charity! Well- my charity! These fingerprints go for a lot of money in the Balkans!”

Courtney backs them into a corner and then sighs. Ass rolls their eyes. “Next time we lose, she’s out,”

“I can get behind that,” they take an exhausted seat next to them. “I found her collecting hair from the shower drain the other day.”

Ass shivers. 

Chris’ voice squeals over the intercom, making everyone jump. “Good morning, passengers! If you’ll look out the right side of the plane, you’ll see our next destination- Australia!”

Courtney and Ass peer out their window over a vast expanse of green. “Are you sure we didn’t take a wrong turn again? End up in Austria?” Ass shouts. 

“Nope. Welcome to the rainforest, mates! Now buckle in and gear up, our landing track is a little… um, crowded!”

Courtney looks back out the window to see an overgrown, crumbling landing pad. They sigh. “He’s so doing this on purpose,”

---

Economy class buckles in just in time- seconds after Bonnie figures out the seatbelts in their disoriented state, the entire cabin begins tossing around luggage, garbage, and miscellaneous rats like a salad. 

The teens yelp and duck as clothes, books, and the occasional snack stash fly at their heads. A rat wearing a crucifix necklace latches onto Patrick’s shoulder. 

Finally, after several minutes of bumping and bruising, the plane comes to a stop. Economy groans and stands shakily as Chris laughs like a maniac over the intercom. 

Albert rubs a bump on his head and turns to his right. “Um, Patrick, don’t freak out, but-”

“Oh, please. I’m not a wussy fruitcake like the rest of you,” he says. “A little turbulence is nothing to a sigma like me. Man up.”

“Yeah, okay. You have a rat on your shoulder,”

Patrick turns to his shoulder. He goes pale and shrieks, standing up and shaking in circles, screaming “GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF ME!” while everyone else watches. Michela rolls her eyes. 

---

Patrick sits in the confessional in the fetal position, sobbing.

---

“Calm down! You’ll hurt him,” Albert says, scooping the rat off his shoulder. “He won’t bite.”

“What makes you so sure?” Max asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Albert holds him away and glares a little. “He won’t have to defend himself if he has nothing to fear,” 

---

ALBERT: "Max is... afraid of me. Interesting. Very, very interesting,"

---

Max rolls his eyes and drifts back over to Bonnie, helping them up to leave the plane. The rest of their team follows behind, then the Mojos. 

Outside of the great metal bird, the teens immediately swallow in the muggy, humid air. Birds chirp, mysterious creatures squawk and the rat on Albert’s shoulder squeaks nervously and scampers back into the plane. 

“Where are we?” Ass finally asks, hands on their hips and eyes lowered. 

Chris, busy picking his teeth with his pinky finger, looks up. “Hm?”

“I said where are we?”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot we were doing that,” he chuckles. “Welcome to the Dandenong Mountains!”

“The what now?” Sha-Mod asks, squinting. 

“Mountain range- well, more like hills and rainforest,”

Mal squeals. “OMG, in the original World Tour, the Amazons went to the Amazon forest, so does that mean that we’re going to the-”

“NO! There’s no Yaoi forest!” Chris snaps. He composes himself and smiles. “Today’s challenge is simple- you’ll be going on an itsy-bitsy safari for some of Australia’s finest- and deadliest!”

The teens shift uncomfortably and look between each other. 

“But don't worry, due to local laws we can’t have you capture any of the wildlife. You’ll be getting these!” he says as Chef passes around slips of laminated paper. “Your cards for species bingo. The first time to reach the finish line with a bingo wins first class- and avoids elimination!”

A bird squawks off in the distance. Team Yaoi looks between each other nervously, as every Mojo turns to Albert expectedly. 

“Ready? Go!”

The teens awkwardly amble off and begin moving through the brush. Team Friendship takes a leftwards path, Max in the lead while Bonnie stumbles behind him. 

---

MAX: “Maybe voting off Scruffy was a mistake. At least they knew how to lead a team of morons,”

---

“Keep your eyes peeled. A lot of these are big, so it shouldn’t be too hard to spot things,” he instructs, handing the team card to Staci. “Don’t lose this.”

She salutes and tucks the sheet under her sweater. Kelly gives her a thumbs up. 

“Y’know, I should be leading,” Phillip says, walking past Max. “I was in the boy scouts, but I had to drop out cause it wasn’t tough enough for a guy like me.”

He trips over a root and lands face-first in the dirt. Max steps over his limp body without a second thought and he sobs into the mulch. 

---

“This place is so cool- like we’re in Jurassic Park!” Sha-Mod says, petting a fern leaf. 

Albert passes by him, holding the bingo sheet. “Let’s hope not. And try not to touch anything you don’t recognize, the flora here isn’t known to be friendly,”

Sha-Mod quickly stands and hurries to catch up with the group. Patrick rolls his eyes. “Please. Afraid of a little plant?” he stops and stands over a shrub. “Oooh, I’m so scared.” 

A spider crawls out of the brush and sits atop the plant. He immediately screams and stumbles backwards into Michela, barreling her over. 

“Ow,” she grumbles, rubbing her shoulder while Patrick rocks back and forth on the ground. 

Albert backtracks and holds out a hand, which she accepts with a smile. He smiles back. 

---

ALBERT: “Okay, so, I lost my job. No big deal! I still have plenty to live for and now that I’ve been f-...f-f… fired- I can finally pursue them. I mean, I would've used the winnings to donate to the coalition, but when’s the last time I’ve taken a day off?” He smiles and his eye twitches. 

---

Albert stops the group in a small clearing to show them the bingo card. “Most of these are pretty easy to find. The spider that scared Patrick looked like a funnel web,”

He huffs and crosses his arms. “You’re welcome,”

“A lot of these are birds, so just keep your heads up. If we had time and gear, we could set up a really nice bird-watching party, but… a hike is just as good a way to see wildlife as any,” he shrugs. 

“You’ve done a lot of hiking, huh?” Michela asks, standing and brushing off her skirt. 

Albert hums and looks down at the sheet. “My dad and I used to do a lot of camping and hiking,” he stands and begins leading the group again. 

“Used to?” she asks, walking alongside him. He smiles sadly and shrugs. “Oh… sorry,”

After a brief moment of silence, Michela takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. Patrick rolls his eyes from behind them. “What a couple of fruitcakes, huh, buddy?” he chuckles. No response. “Um…”

Patrick stops and turns, prompting Michela and Albert to do the same. 

“Sha-Mod?”

---

Sha-Mod walks through the thick jungle with swagger, taking wide strides and whistling to himself. He makes it some steps before suddenly colliding face-first into a tree- sending him tumbling backwards down a hill, into a creek, and then downstream. 

---

“That’s not good,” Michela says. 

Patrick smirks. “Relax, sweetheart. Chris never said we had to make it past the finish line with the whole team,”

Michela grits her teeth and steps on his foot. Patrick screams in pain and whimpers, scampering away. 

---

“OMG you guys, there’s Yaoi on this list!” Mal squeals, holding the sheet to the sky. 

“Give me that,” Ass snatches it back and reads it. “This says YOWIE, you dolt. There’s even a picture!”

“I thought that was just a bear. Someone isn’t well versed on their gay terminology!” she crosses her arms. “Besides, Yowies aren’t real.”

Julia rolls her eyes from behind the two. “But yaoi is?” 

“Duh! We have gay rights for a reason!”

“Can you guys settle down?” Courtney asks, massaging their temples. “I have a really bad headache.” They turn around for a second and a massive spider crawls off their back. Julia and Ass go pale and make fleeting eye contact, then shake their heads. “Let’s just keep going,”

---

“Cockatoo,” Albert says, marking off another item on the bingo sheet. “We’ve got echidna, spider, and cockatoo, but… no Sha-Mod.”

“I hope he’s okay,” Michela says, somewhat nervously. “He wouldn’t leave us alone with… that thing, would he?”

Albert scoffs a little, slightly offended. “The cockatoo hasn’t done anything to you,”

“No. I meant the other thing,” she points to Patrick, who’s busy taunting the plants to hurt him. They both shiver, and then laugh.

---

ALBERT: "Michela is a good person. She doesn't care about what other people think about her, or losing her job and her very reason for existing! I could learn a thing or two. If only it was just us on the team,"

---

“Anything yet?” Bonnie yawns, stumbling over another overgrown root. 

Max shakes his head and moves a branch out of the way for them as they walk ahead blindly. “We might be doing better if we were QUIET!” he shouts, turning to Kelly and Staci behind them, who quickly stop gossiping. 

Max massages his temples. Phillip walks alongside him, covered in bug bites and dirt. “I had a dream that I could control animals with my mind once. I wrote a poem about it, do you want to hear?”

“NO!”

Bonnie yawns again and scratches their head. “Where are we, again?”

He groans. 

---

MAX: “SOMETHING has to be done about this team. Bonnie’s been avoiding everyone because of their- whatever you’d call their thing with Caesar- Staci is too busy gabbing about girls and gossip to be of actual use, Kelly is only here for moral support, and Phillip is basically a pet,”

---

“Look, there!” Kelly says, pointing. Max stops dead in his tracks and looks in the direction they’re pointing. “A fruit fly!”

He slowly sits down on the forest floor, puts his head in his hands and rocks back and forth. 

Bonnie walks over to Kelly and Staci, who are staring nervously. “You broke him,” they say before slumping over and falling asleep on Staci’s shoulder. 

---

“Sha-Mod!” Michela shouts. “Sha-Mod!”

“Is it really such a wise idea to shout?” Patrick asks. “I mean- not for me. But you know, you might attract something dangerous for you.”

“There are no large terrestrial predators in Australia,” Albert says nonchalantly. “Anything in these rainforests that could kill you isn’t predatory towards people, and would only act in self-defense. So let’s try not to antagonize anything else, okay?”

Patrick rolls his eyes. 

---

It’s dark. 

The sound of bugs flying, mammals chittering, and birds crying out fills the empty air. 

Slowly, Sha-Mod awakes. He groans and sits up, scratching his head with his back to the camera. “Owie,” he says. 

Then, it’s bright. Too bright. 

“Wait,” he grabs at his face. The feeling of warm flesh fills the void where smooth paper should be. Sha-Mod ducks to the ground and sees the mulchy, emulsified remains of Lighting crumbled in the dirt. “Oh, no. Oh no. This isn’t good.”

---

Julia presses ahead, swatting at the jungle growth with her arm while Ass, Mal, and Courtney follow behind them. It’s beginning to get dark, the sun setting off in the distance. 

“Guys, I really don’t feel good,” Courtney mumbles. “My head is pounding, I think I have food poisoning or something.”

“Did you eat any of Chef’s scrambled eggs, cause those were definitely expired,” a voice from the brush says. 

Team Mojo walks out of the undergrowth, converging with Team Yaoi. Michela walks over to Courtney and scans them over. “Cramping at all?"

They shake their head. “No cramping, I just feel sick,”

She turns back to Albert, who sighs and begrudgingly steps forward to inspect them. “What are your symptoms? You could’ve been bitten by something,”

Ass and Julia look between each other with wide eyes. 

“Headache, and… I feel nauseous,” they say as Albert holds a hand to their head. 

“Well, you’re not dead yet, so it can’t be that bad,” Patrick says. Courtney rolls their eyes. 

“Do you remember handling any wildlife? Maybe you fell into a bush and startled something?”

“We went through some overgrowth earlier, but I’m sure it’s nothing,” Julia says. “We should really get going, thank you.” She grabs Courtney’s arm and pulls them away. 

The cracking sound of thunder stops Team Yaoi in their steps and Julia grits her teeth as a sharp downpour begins to cover the forest. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to make a fire, would you?” 

---

“You know, we really shouldn’t be doing this. It’s winter in the southern hemisphere, and-”

“SHH!” Ass hisses at Albert. “We are on a survival show. We. Are. Surviving!”

He grumbles to himself and sits next to Michela after she finishes lighting the fire. “I hope Sha-Mod is doing okay,”

“Hey, maybe Team Friendship found him,” she says, tossing the fire-starting sticks into the hearth. “Max would take care of him for us.”

Albert raises an eyebrow. “Would he?”

Julia studies the interaction cautiously as Ass hisses at Mal for getting too close. 

Michela’s expression shifts at the speed of light, and she takes on a new, more annoyed look. “What does that mean?” 

“I mean, I don’t know him, of course,” Albert says, raising his hands defensively. “But he seems kind of… mean.”

“You can say that again,” Julia mumbles, kicking a rock into the fire. Albert nods. “See?”

“Well, Julia deserves it,” Michela says. “But he’s not a mean person. Right?”

Patrick whistles passive-aggressively. Julia rolls her eyes and Courtney avoids eye contact entirely. 

“He seems fine to me,” Ass says. “But that’s probably not a compliment coming from myself.”

“I like his yaoi ships!” Mal offers. 

Michela stands. “Fine, if you’re all so sure, you can stay here on your high horses. I’m going to go find Sha-Mod,”

And then she storms off into the rain. 

---

Staci finishes hammering together a makeshift wooden shelter with a hand-held rock and ducks under it, where Max is crouching in the dirt. Kelly is shivering, and Phillip is scribbling in his notebook. Bonnie is fast asleep on the ground. 

“Well, this is delightful,” Max sighs. “Anyone else enjoying themselves? This is basically a cruise!”

“You don’t have to be so negative all the time,” Staci says, sitting down next to Phillip. 

Max rolls his eyes and pulls his knees to his chest. “How long has Bonnie been out?”

“A few hours,” Kelly says, matter-of-factly. “On the bright side, we’ve got two animals on our bingo card now!” 

He groans and puts his head in his hands. Staci sighs. 

---

STACI: “Okay, admittedly, I haven’t been carrying this team like I know I could. My plan was more to fly under the radar like in Island, and then cruise to the final five. But… if we lose, Kelly might get voted out. They’re not exactly a class favorite right now,”

---

Bonnie suddenly yawns loudly and sits up, rubbing their eyes. “Mhmm… what time is it? Did we win?” they awake and turn from side to side. “Where are we?”

“The rainforest, sleeping beauty,” Max comments dully, flicking a lint ball off his blazer. 

“What? But I have a match in like, fifteen minutes! If I miss a league tournament they’ll kick me off the team!”

Max glowers. “I don’t think that’s the team you should worry about being kicked off of now,”

Bonnie looks away. 

---

BONNIE: “I don’t exactly have a good catalog of coping mechanisms. Avoidance is numero uno,”

---

Michela walks through the thick jungle, staring up ahead at the high canopy. The rain has begun to clear up, but it’s not any easier to navigate through the dark. 

“Sha-Mod? Sha-Mod!” she shouts. “Come on, man!”

No response. She sighs, but trudges on. As she pushes through another overgrown fern, a rustling behind her makes her whirl around. 

“Hey, it’s just me,” Albert says. “I couldn’t sleep knowing you were out here alone.”

She opens her mouth to retort and he quickly holds up a finger. 

“Not that I think you’re incapable of taking care of yourself, this is just a rainforest at night. Not the safest place to be off-trail,” he says quickly. “I have full confidence in your skills. But I also wanted to apologize, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sure Max is… a nice person…”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Michela snaps, walking ahead again. Albert trails after her. “Sha-Mod!”

“He just comes off as kind of rude! And you’re so open, and helpful to everyone…”

“Sha-Mod!”

“I guess I just don’t see it,” 

“Sha-Mod, come on, man! Help me out here!”

“But…” Albert says, catching up to Michela and standing in front of her. She lowers her eyebrows at him. “I could believe that he’s nice to you, at least. You’re easy to be nice to.”

Michela looks away. “Thanks. I guess,”

“I won’t bring it up again, promise,” 

The two make brief eye contact and then hug for a little bit too long. From the brush behind them, Julia squints. 

---

JULIA: “Maybe Max isn’t a totally delusional control freak, after all. There is something going on between those two. But the question is, how can I get this to turn in my favor?”

---

Julia returns to the campfire and takes a seat. Courtney looks up. “Did you find any?”

“What?”

“Water?”

“Oh, yeah. Um, no,” Julia says, leaning back. “Guess you’ll just have to rough it.”

“Great work. Really top-notch survival skills,” Patrick says, trying and failing to carve a stick into a spear. 

“As if you could do any better,”

“Oh, please. I bet you’re really regretting being dumped by me now, huh?” he chuckles, pointing his barely-formed spear at her. “I could do this in my sleep.”

“I broke up with YOU!” 

He smirks and rolls his eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey,”

Julia grits her teeth and sits between Ass and Mal, seething. Courtney chuckles lightly, looking pale and sickly. “Says the guy who got dumped here by his whole team,”

“Yeah, and not to mention your losing streak,” Ass rolls their eyes. “Really great ‘survival skills’, Bear Grylls.”

“And, for the record, it was Julia who broke up with you. It’s literally on my Patulia archive blog,” Mal nods. “Honestly, you should be so lucky you got to go out with her in the first place.”

“Yeah, what did you ever bring to the table?” Courtney asks. “Julia is smart, experienced, and a good leader.”

“We would never leave Julia behind with another team. And we hate her!” Ass says, jabbing a finger in his direction. 

Patrick grumbles to himself and half-heartedly tosses his spear into the fire. Julia blinks. 

---

Sha-Mod stumbles through the forest blindly. A large leaf has been tied around his face with a shoelace and, without proper eyeholes, he’s as blind as a bat. 

After walking into the third tree along the trail, he sighs. 

---

SHA-MOD: “Is this the universe punishing me for saying I needed time apart from Takes Three? I didn’t mean to get Joner voted out! I didn’t know I could do that with my mind!”

---

The rain picks up again and he sighs. 

A few minutes behind him, Michela and Albert are walking alongside each other, shoulder-to-shoulder. “I hope he isn’t hurt,” the latter says, scanning the treeline as if Sha-Mod might be up there. “Hey- possum. That’s another one for the bingo.”

Albert pulls the sheet out of his windbreaker and checks off another box. Michela raises an eyebrow and he stares back. “Bad timing?”

“No, no. It’s okay. But I wouldn’t hate it if we lost, I mean… Patrick has gotta go,” she says. “He’s been dragging his heels this entire competition.”

“Agreed. He’s been giving you a hard time,” Albert says, clicking his pen. “Poor Sha-Mod, though…”

The faint sound of a ringing bell catches both of their attention and they turn to each other. "Now?" Michela sighs before clearing her throat. “We should’ve just kept our heads, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“I thought so too, but then we lost Sha-Mod in the rain-for-est!” Albert continues. 

“Now if he goes missing-”

“-We definitely won’t be ‘winnin!”

“Oh, what would we do the-en?”

Sha-Mod stumbles through the foliage just yards ahead, coughing weakly. The faint, familiar dinging of the song bell sounds and he groans. He sighs:

“Lost here, woods are gonna make me boke,

Leaf in my face, get me outta this place!

Going solo was not what I anticipated, probably means I’m eliminated. Yeah, I’m out! Out, oooh, oooh, yeah, yeah, yeah!”

“Sha-Mod?” a voice comes from behind him.

Sha-Mod whirls around and runs through the forest towards the voice, stumbling over roots and logs before tumbling into a warm wash of light. 

When he looks up from the dirt, he sees Team Friendship watching him. Phillip finally squeaks out a quiet: “What happened to you?”

“I-I made it! I’m back! I’m safe, all by myself!” he says, pumping his fist. “I survived alone! I can do anything!”

“Okay, that’s great. Where’s Team Mojo?” Max asks sharply. 

Sha-Mod shrugs. “We got separated. I haven’t seen them since this morning,”

After a long, drawn out sigh, Max finally speaks. “Okay. We’ll find them in the morning,”

---

Team Yaoi (and Patrick) crowd around their dying fire, trying to shield it from the rain. A rustling from the bushes behind them turns everyone’s attention to the foliage. 

“Did you guys hear that?” Courtney asks nervously, looking from side to side with wide eyes. 

“It was probably just the wind,” Patrick says. “There are no large terrestrial predators in Australia. That’s something I knew all by myself. No one told me that.”

Julia rolls her eyes. 

“Maybe it’s Yaoi!” Mal squeals, kicking her legs back and forth. 

“A yowie,”

“I told you, yowies aren’t real, but yaoi is!”

The bushes rustle louder and everyone turns again. A large, ape-like creature jumps from the brush and roars. Everyone screams (especially Patrick) and takes off running into the forest. 

The “yowie” giggles and takes off its mask, revealing a short teenager. Kitty unzips the suit and then runs back off into the forest. 

---

Michela and Albert return to the campfire, wet and exhausted, and raise both their eyebrows at the sight of the abandoned embers and empty yowie suit. 

“I don’t even wanna know,” Michela grumbles. 

---

The sun rises over the mountains in the east, washing a new light over the damp earth. Bonnie yawns and stretches, looking much less pale and sickly than they had for the past few days. 

Max follows after, then Staci and Kelly rise. “Hey- where’s Phillip?”

As if summoning him from Hell, he arrives with his shirt full of berries. “Look what I found! Valuable asset to the team, right?” Max rolls his eyes. 

Through the fog behind him, Michela and Albert walk into the clearing. “And that’s a bingo,” the latter says, marking off kookaburra on their sheet. “Oh!”

Sha-Mod jumps up from where he’d been lying on the ground and throws himself into Michela’s arms. “IgotlostIwassoscaredneverleavemealoneeveragain!” he sobs rapidly. 

“We found him in the woods like a puppy in a wet box on the side of the road,” Max sighs. “Then he ate all our food supplies and scared off our last chances of finding a bingo.”

Sha-Mod sobs loudly in Michela’s arms. “Geez, alright,” she says, then turns to Albert. “See? Told you.”

He smiles and shrugs, then turns away from her to roll his eyes. 

Team Yaoi (and Patrick) come stumbling out of the fog next, all panting and exhausted. Once they’ve caught their breath, Ass whacks Mal upside the head. 

“Sure, let’s make it a party,” Bonnie yawns, then turns to team Friendship. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

---

The three teams- now reunited- cross the finish line at the exit of the forest, where Chris and the plane are waiting. “Wow, what happened to you guys? You look terrible!” he chuckles. 

The teens collectively glare at him. 

“Well, anyway. Let’s see those bingo cards…” he walks between the groups. “Two for Team Friendship, a full five for Team Mojo, and…. Surprise! Nothing for Team Yaoi.”

The team groans and he grins. “Lucky for you, this is a non-elimination round!”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Bonnie grumbles. Team Yaoi weakly cheers. Ass holds out their hand for a high five from Courtney, who swings and misses, then falls over. 

“Team Mojo, you’ll be enjoying first class,” he says, walking back in front of the groups. “The rest of you will enjoy gruel and grime in economy. See you there!”

Team Friendship groans. “Don’t look so glum, guys. At least I have these!” Phillip says, popping a small black berry in his mouth. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t eat those if I were you,” Albert says. “Those look like nightshades.”

“So?”

“They’re poisonous,”

Phillip goes pale and spits out the berry, scraping off his tongue and whimpering. 

"Some boy scout," Max mutters.

---

The plane jostles a little, shaking economy. Courtney snores through the turbulence, hanging limply in their seatbelt. Ass mumbles a brief “ew” as Mal drools on her phone, and they scooch closer to Julia, who’s staring ahead intently. 

Bonnie is fast asleep, back to a normal human sleep schedule after their soiree in the jungle broke their bad habit. Kelly and Staci are leaning on each other, snoring, and Phillip is mumbling to himself. 

Max, balancing his head in his palms, blinks slowly, staring ahead out the window into the dark. After a few moments of silence, Julia unbuckles herself and crosses the great expanse from one side of the cabin to the other while the plane shakes. 

She takes a seat next to Max and he sighs dramatically. “What is it now?”

“Calm down, I just wanted to talk,”

“I’m not falling for that again,”

“I’ll make it short,” she smiles. “You weren’t with Team Mojo last night, after all. If I were you… I’d keep a close eye on Albert.”

Max blinks and looks pale. And with that, she walks back to the other side of the cabin. 

---

JULIA: “No, Michela and I aren’t enemies- but we aren’t allies, either. That makes her fair game. I want Patrick gone, and if that means I have to pick off the only player that’s keeping that team together- so be it,”

---

[slifarianhawk]

Chapter 45: Where?

I smiled as I stared at myself in the mirror of mine and Albert's room. My belly was covered in many stretch marks. Today was the day my and Albert's vows would be renewed. I was fluttering in excitement.

"Nighthawk to Phoenix, do you read me boss lady?" Nighthawk's voice came through my com choker.

"What's wrong, hawk?" I said, accepting the link.

"Nothing. I was just letting you know everything is set up, and you should start getting ready. I'll be up there to escort you down in roughly thirty minutes time." He said as the coms disconnected.

"Always in a rush." I sigh, shaking my head.

Quickly, I start to change. I wasn't doing anything fancy with my hair and makeup. I didn't need much prepping for these events since being infected with the Angelis virus.

Slowly, I draped the lovely two part gown over my body. The lavender lace clinging to my baby bump, creating a globe of lotus petals. While the fabric was somewhat scratchy, I couldn't help but run my hand over the children. I felt so happy.

I never wanted to lose this moment. I wish I had a camera to save this thought forever. This was a field of mental bliss. Just me and my unborn children, I felt a small set of kicks as I smiled.

I heard the elevator open. Nighthawk must be here to esscort me to the library. I removed my com choker as a tinge of unease fell over me. Nighthawk was never this quiet.

"Wesk! Is that you love?" I shouted out, grabbing my samurai edge from the trunk at the foot of our bed.

Nothing but silence. I loaded my pistol  and stepped out of mine and Albert's room. The common area seemed darker than normal. I walked out facing the elevator, noticing nothing strange. I quickly faced the balcony and living room.

After a brief second, I felt a sharp stinging in my neck that dropped me to my knees. What the fuck! Pain surged through my body. I hadn't felt anything like this since Angelis bound itself to my genetic code. My vision was blurry. My body was burning as I could feel my muscles loosen and contract rapidly. In a searing wave of pain, I released my firearm, unable to keep a solid grip on it

"Well , well, well, just look at you now, dear sister in law." I heard a distorted voice say.

I saw white leather dress shoes step in front of me. My vision was slowly fading, but in my desperation, my body fought against whatever was assailing it. The voice wasn't clear in tone, but I knew for damn sure who did this.

"ALEX!" I instantly covered my mouth.

A jolt of shock and horror shook me. My voice sounded just like my mutated forms. What was happening to me. I grabbed my side and toppled over. My pain had tripled in agony in a matter of seconds.

"Poor poor darling Tabitha, look how you have fallen to me. Vladimir certainly was on the right track with this destabilizing agent. An antigen would have probably killed you by now, so this destabilizing toxin was perfect for you. Can't risk hurting Albert's children after all." She mused at my expense.

A feral growl escaped my throat. I reach for my neck only to remember I has previously removed my choker because I thought it would clash with the dress. I let my guard down for a day that should have been nothing but happy. I was furious, not only with myself but with the obstacle in my way. Should I just lash out or try and drag myself to get my comlink.

"Reduced to base instincts, aren't you? Fight or flight? The itch to kill what is threatening not only you but your unborn brood or the desire to cower away to your and Albert's room? Face it, my silly little sister in law you've always been nothing more than an animal for Umbrellas entertainment." Alex laughed as I heard the elevator open again, Nighthawk strode into my view.

"Lady Alex, have you secured your captive?" He said to my disbelief.

"Agent Nighthawk! Ex-explain your s-self!" I barely mustered out.

He turned to face me, and my heart sunk. His eyes once gleaming hawk like yellow eyes were glazed over and a sullen grey. His eyes were the same as mine when I was under the control of Sergei.

"I must say you train your people well deary. It took the highest setting to control him. Even now, I can see it in his face, his eyes in particular. He is fighting for control. To save you from what he knows is about to happen. But no one can save you now, my dear sweet Tabitha." Alex laughed as she snapped.

Nighthawk walked towards me and slid a syringe in my neck. He lifted me as my body went numb. I could feel his heart pounding against his chest.  Alex walked up to me and pulled out a scalpel from her sleeve.

"Sorry, deary, but I need this to be believable." Alex said, grabbing my head by my bangs.

Even in my drugged haze, I had enough energy to spit in her eye. That earned me a harsh slap across my face. She quickly cut good-sized gash on my forehead as she wiped her eye.

I felt the blood trickle down my face. It's sticky warmth, quickly drying, leaving an irritating path of flaky  ichor. As the drug slowly overpowered my weakened body, I felt soft but yet cold icy arms position me bridal style. 

"Now deary, it's time to rest. When you next awaken, you shall be in your new home." Alex said with her back turned wiping what little blood there was on her hands on the wall leading to the elevator.

I looked into Nighthawk's eyes, and I saw flecks of yellow starting to burst through the grey. He truly was fighting her. He looked down at me, and the concern in his eyes was palpable. He groaned as if to say he knew.

"Knock her out. We can't risk having her giving away our position." Alex barked as the elevator opened.

Nighthawk gripped my pressure point near my carotid artery. As everything went to black.

(Wesker's P.O.V.)

"Ten minutes," I murmured under my breath as I stared out over the library.

My lotus had worked wonders on the Gothic architecture, making it feel hospitable and inviting. The warm atmosphere matched a gentle spring day as what few guests we had invited  chatted amongst themselves.

Jill and Gale were sitting front and center next to the aisle. They were hand in hand. They had appeared to have grown close over these past few months. Even with Jill under my control for missions, she seemed to have stopped fighting against the no contact order. She hasn't attempted to reach out to Chris or the B.S.A.A.

"Ahh, Dr. Wesker, glad to see you." Arias said, walking up to me to my slightest annoyance.

"Welcome, Glen. I'm glad you were able to make it to this important celebration for me and Tabitha." I said, offering my hand in which he quickly took giving it a firm shake.

"Don't think about it. In all honesty, I'm grateful to your wife for extending the invitation. It's quite lovely. Where is Ms. Tabitha? I'd like to extend my gratitude to her as well."  Glen said, looking around the room.

"She is currently on her way from what I was told by my stepson." I said, looking towards the entrance of the library.

Arjuna was there, his blue streaks of hair slicked back, and the collar of his button-up looked disheveled. He seemed on edge. I know he had instructed Nighthawk to fetch my dear lotus so we could start the ceremony.  That was almost forty minutes ago.  He kept messing with him comlink. Something didn't set quite right with me.

"Excuse me, Glen. I'm going to go speak with Arjuna." I bluntly said dismissing Arias from my mind.

With a quickened pace, I walked up to  my step-son. As I got close, I could see in his posture that he was panicked. I pulled him aside.

"What is the situation, Archer?" I said, adjusting my sunglasses.

"The coms are down, I can't get ahold of mom or Nighthawk. Hell, it's not even connecting to Gale or the guards I have stationed around the base." He said, ripping the choker off in frustration.

"How long?" I said unease, setting in.

"Thirty-five minutes, just after my partner went to fetch T." He groaned, "The last contact was between my partner and her. At least, that was what White Queen told me when she finished diagnostics."

"I'm going to check on them. Hopefully, I will run into them on the way." I said about to open the door.

"Take Gale and Jill with you. I hate saying this, but something isn't sitting right with me." Archer said, grabbing my wrist.

He boldness stunned me for a brief moment. Normally, Arjuna was more reticent with his actions. The fact he so brazenly grabbed me stood out.

"If you insist, I shall accommodate your request. Actually, you and I both are thinking something isn't how it's supposed to be." I said, "keep the guests here. We will be back shortly."

I walked over to Chambers and Valentine. When they saw my face, they nodded and stood up. We quickly exited the library.

"You don't think Tabs got cold feet, do ya?" Gale asked Jill as we rushed through the hallways, searching for my lotus.

"Not a chance, Gale. I saw the dress as soon as it arrived. The glee on her face was  unmistakable. She was really looking forward to today." Jill said.

We quickly reached the elevator to mine and Tabitha's room. We hadn't run into my lotus or Nighthawk. However, as soon as I gazed upon the ground, I felt my eyes flare. There smeared on the dull concrete was a moderate blood trail, coming from the elevator. They noticed it, too.

"Gale! You check the room! Jill, follow me! Something happened!" I snarled, calling the elevator for Gale.

"On it! You go find Tabs." Gale said, getting on the elevator.

Jill and I quickly followed the trail. It slowly tappered off, but its direction was leading towards the secret exit that led into the nearby mountains that Markus had built in as an escape route. A primal need to protect was coursing through my blood. As if realizing it's master was in dire need, Angelis activated. My vision drastically became sharper, and my sense of smell was picking up faint traces of blood and sweet pea perfume.

The new information led me down a neglected section of hallways and tunnels. The lights were shattered out, and the tunnels were lit with dying emergency lighting embedded in the wall. There was a thick layer of dust on the floor. Stopping for a moment, I noticed something along the hall ahead leading to the door.

There were two sets of footprints, and neither were my sweet lotus's. The first was a set of boots. Clearly, someone came prepared. The next set of dust tracks was peculiar. They were of a set of dress shoe tracks. They were petite, and the heel was a thick wedge of some sort.

My field of vision turned red, and I bolted, leaving Jill behind. Tabitha was all I had on my mind. I had a task I needed to complete. Get my beloved wife back.

I ripped the door out of the wall with little effort. The rusted object was no match for me. I keep going forward only to stop and see nighthawk being shot out of a black helicopter that was hovering roughly thirty feet in the air.

As soon as nighthawk hit the ground, the helicopter started ascending and flew off. My emotions went cold. There wasn't any anti-aircraft weaponry long the mountains. I decided that when i started using this base, I wasn't going to fully retrofit it with weaponry along the mountains to keep it hidden from Satellites.

I noticed that nighthawk was trying to force himself up. I walked over towards him. My anger flared like a blazing wild fire. As I got to him, there was dust caked on his combat boots.

He opened his eyes that were almost flickering back and forth between his natural color and a hazy grey. His body spasmed as his hand covered the  gunshot wound in his left pectoral. He had landed on his back, and his once immaculate wings were unfurled splayed out on the ground.

"Wesker, sir. I failed." He coughed out as  blood poured from his lips. "Damn that woman!"

I heard three sets of people running up behind me as I lifted up nighthawk  by his collar. He looked like he was on deaths door, awaiting the sickle to swing down to end his suffering. The grey his eyes kept shifting to was the same color that my darling lotus's were when she was being controlled by Sergei.

"Wesker!" Gale shouted, running up behind me, grabbing my shoulder ,"It was Alex!"

Everything just stopped. I felt myself let go of the dying Phoenix Corps agent and turn to face Chambers. He had a look of pure hatred on his face.

Jill and Archer ran behind us and started treating Nighthawk's wounds. With a single motion, Gale opened his hand, revealing a note on worn Umbrella stationary.

I took it from his hands and unfolded it. In dark ink, there was a penned note from Alex.

"Brother, it is a shame thing have become like this. I believe we should talk. Fret not, I won't harm a hair on my nieces or nephews. Your weak, useless, and pitiful wife is in my care now. It would be a shame should anything happen to your favorite toy, right? I shall reach out through Nighthawk in a weeks time. It's time you remember where you belong, Brother. If you don't, I'll be sure your Lotus wilts away and the last thorn in father's side will be destroyed."

White...blank...where!? Where is she!? Where did that bitch take you my love?!?!

"ALEX!!!" I snarled out as the guards of Phoenix Corps. surrounded nighthawk, placing him in B.O.W. restraining  cuffs and escorting him into the base.

"Wesker!" Jill called out to me.

Slowly, I realized that I had to play this strategically. Alex was as intelligent as I was. She clearly had a plan in place, and I could play into her hands if I wasn't careful. 

I looked over the edge of the mountains, "I will not be away from you long, my dear lotus. Of that, I promise."

Hey everyone, Silfarianhawk here. We are on to the next ark. Oh, this will be fun... at least for me, that is. I hope ya'll have an amazing day. As always, my name is Silfarianhawk, and  I'm not so far away.

[autemtoday]

SQUEEZE DAY

BY BENNIE CASTLE

Autem Publications ®

(An Original Sci-Fi )

Today will be Z's last day or, instead, his first day as a corpse. The irony; is how death brings breath into a depreciating existence. A man's last sip of water from a small recyclable cup; the least they could provide for the soon-to-be-dead man. The cooler is icy, As his final request, instead of identifying himself by his birth name, he is known by the letter 'Z.' Henceforth, this is his appointed moniker, which he will leave behind. Nothing is wrong with him, technically; No unbearable cancer, virus, or disease. Z is closer to forty than he is to thirty years of age, Z is not the most athletic or out-of-shape person, either. He was somewhat husky, taller than the average male, with dark-colored hair still upon his head, sporting a casual business attire. Z's eyes sink, then close; he sits back and retires. Four other people await patiently by their seats in the office.

An old man speaks, looking directly at Z with much trouble, and says," I remember when churches would protest In front of places like this..." Z reflects on his words, opens his eyes, and then looks at him. He is a slim man, wearing thick-rimmed glasses, a pair you would expect from an older person. His dotty pupils give the impression of rapid dilation because of them. Z replies, "I remember last month when churches would ask if I could donate my assets before visiting, well, places like this" The old man chuckles softly, then introduces himself, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Al. Do you mind if I ask you a question, son...? What is someone like yourself doing at a Squeeze office? Had I walked in amongst everyone, I might have confused you with one of the docs." Z bides his time. He considers the old man's words, then looks at the clock on the wall. "Oh no, I'm no Doctor, sir, real estate agent; rather, ex-real estate agent. My name is Z." It takes Al a while to process the information, and he scans Z again, uttering, "Well, okay, Zeke... you just seem out of place, is all." Z doesn't correct him. "I'm flattered, Al. I appreciate the concern, really, but it's a little too late. We're in this damn office on the national holiday of calling it quits. With Squeeze specials like these, who can pass them up? Just something you can't miss out on." Al's silence echoes subtle volumes- almost deafening. "Today's the 90th anniversary since the Big Squeeze & the ads still manage to haul us in, year after year, let alone week after week, huh?"

The old man's scowl makes his eyebrows appear much more extensive than they are, making up for his baldness. Suddenly, an apologetic expression befalls him. Both of his beady eyes fix upon Z again. "Back when I was your age, Zeke, this would have been the last place to find me. The 23rd century is just around the corner. What I would give to be young again, my boy." The old man quiets down, gaze remaining on Z." Different strokes for different folks, huh, old man?" A sly grin slips away from Z as his eyes look the other way.

'You're not funny, Z," says a 3rd voice. Al and Z turn their heads to see a young girl, frail yet stern, her eyes a ghastly green as if they can see through a man. "What? What isn't funny?" Says Z, nonchalantly looking around the room. She sighs, and an underwhelming look strikes her face. "The response? 'Different strokes for different folks, huh, old man?' It's not funny. Learn how to speak nice or say nothing at all, Z." The pompous attitude, followed by a smirk, nauseates her; like how a ravaging hyena cowers over an expiring, meatless carcass; rotten." Forget that, that idiot, Albert. He should know better than to insult a stranger," she says. "I'm Joyce, by the way." her cheeks flush a hue of a reddish pink against her pale skin. Z turns over to look at them both; he scoffs, "What is this? Sensitivity training? He should know better than to gossip and interrogate a stranger. There's a specific clause on the Squeeze contract explicitly stating what constitutes protocol and what doesn't...!" He sucks his teeth, avoids their glances, and picks up a complimentary magazine off the office table.

Someone coughs intentionally and then laughingly says, "Emotions tend to run high on squeeze day. We're here until the doc calls; why not be here for one another? We're human, not cyborgs; these suicide facilities should know better than anyone. "

Al turns his head to greet and answer the voice next to him, "You're completely right, son, now what's your name? Maybe if we'd all introduce ourselves properly, we'd feel more comfortable." His look shifts back to Z. "Mono. I realize most folks prefer aliases at Squeeze facilities but no matter- We wouldn't need names in a couple of minutes from now, would we?" says the man. He surveys every other face around the waiting room with his red hair and dead eyes. Joyce's expression slowly turns from melancholy to extreme discomfort- as one would after realizing they've stepped in dog shit.

Everyone remains still, with their blank faces, painting an expression of nothingness. The Squeeze Office is where one greets death like a neighbor or a distant 2nd cousin on Christmas.

"It's not that complicated, I suppose. No, we get humanely rid of ourselves and bring a little joy to the world." The man across from him speaks, "It's not as simple, either, Mono. Do you not think of others- how they feel, at least the ones who remain after us? The damage could be worse over time."

"What about the hungry?" Says Mono. The man's wide gasp was like a statue for 5 seconds. He reclines in his seat and stares at him. "Huh, well, I think of others- Quite frankly, maybe better than you... Mr.?" "Motley, an alias, but my legal first name's translation suggests the same."

Mono's grin is priceless; a modern Rembrandt. '' Haven't our global leaders set the surplus organic Goods and foods act just a few years ago? We, at least the Fantome Party, care. I know our elect can handle the hunger pandemic breaks, give it two or three generations from now." Motley doesn't show any expression. If his eyes could narrow any closer, he might have burnt a hole through Mono's skull. "The Fantome Party? Aren't they a little ahead of themselves? Various parties argue they need more real math for successful curvature. Squeeze facilities prove time and time again to be twice effective," says Z. The magazine is almost thrown back unto the table. Motley rolls his eyes, his head towards the windows, and says, "Sometimes the lack of compassion is worse than lack of food. The hungry stomach outlasts the hungry soul. What good is living when you're already dead inside?" Mono grins and looks over at everyone in the waiting room, ''Precisely what I mean. See that girl over there? Joyce? She's terminally ill at the age of sixteen. What good is living when you're already dead inside? This world doesn't rely on twinkle dust and smiles, ok? It relies on economic values. Acknowledge this one truth first; Motley." His gaze crosses Albert's, then Joyce, "Have you no manners? Joyce is technically still a child; what does she know about life? Even with the little time left, death needs no space to occupy her mind. Have you no pity? ... This age of ours, one of over-saturation, overpopulation, and overstimulation isn't humane sometimes. I've seen people break weeks before their appointed squeeze appointment!"

.......

-TO BE CONTINUED -

[shion-yu]

Day 19 - "Why Wasn't I Enough?"

If he could go back in time and change it all, would he? Whumptober 2023! I’m using the @ailesswhumptober's prompt list. This story is about my OC Al - here’s his profile if you’re so inclined: https://toyhou.se/23743193.albert 

CW/TWs: Suicide (character death), self harm, chronic illness

"I think we should break up." 

The words lingered in the air, heavy and devastating for both of them. Al watched as Ollie's face turned from one of excitement to heartbreak in seconds. Al hated he had caused it; had taken that smile away. But he needed to tell Ollie now so his boyfriend - soon to be ex-boyfriend - could prepare. It wouldn't be fair to wait until the last moment to tell Ollie that their carefully laid plans would no longer be possible. 

"What do you mean?" Ollie asked him, his voice thin. "I don't understand. Don't say that."

Al sighed, adjusting the nasal cannula behind his ears and clearing his throat. He'd been listening to Ollie talk, once again, about how excited he was for the fall. How great moving into their own apartment in New York City would be. Al had let him exist in that dream for a long time - he hadn't wanted to ruin Ollie's finals, or graduation, or the high that had come afterwards. Plus, he'd hoped against hope that he'd miraculously be doing better by now. But it hadn't happened, and so he had to tell the truth no matter how much neither of them wanted to face it.

"You know I won't be well any time soon," Al said tiredly. He'd been in and out of the hospital all year with recurrent respiratory infections and had yet another one now. Although Al's CF had been relatively well controlled through most of his younger childhood, things had started to become a problem when he was in high school. He had missed so many days of classes that he'd had to repeat his freshman year. He met Ollie when he was a junior and Ollie was a sophomore. Ollie had no preconceived notions of Al and had just wanted a friend as he started at his new high school, having suffered terribly from bullying during his freshman year at public school. He'd managed to get a scholarship to Al's private school and Al had been drawn to his delicate but enthusiastic personality. They'd quickly become friends, and then much more. Al had always been the one to push their relationship farther, the gentleman of the couple if you would. He'd bring Ollie gifts and hold the door for him and pay for their meals out. He had been the first to initiate a kiss, then sex; the first to say I love you. He didn't regret it either, but now that he'd gotten sicker he worried that he was no longer the person Ollie had fallen in love with. The idea of holding Ollie back from the dreams he'd worked so hard for was one Al couldn't bear.

"You've worked so hard to get into FIT, with a freaking full scholarship," Al said slowly, looking down at his lap. "That's amazing. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity. But because of my health, I can't go with you anymore. I'm sorry." 

Ollie shook his head quickly, his eyes immediately filled with angry tears. It hurt Al to see him cry, but it was unavoidable. He believed he was doing this for Ollie's sake, because Al knew Ollie would never do it himself even if he wanted to. "How can you say that? No way," Ollie insisted. 

Al sighed, rubbing his temple. "You have to go, Ollie. You earned it. Maybe in another year I'll be healthy enough to join you... But this year, I need to stay here." He'd grown so weak it was even a struggle for him to walk; the apartment they'd found for themselves in New York was on the fourth floor in an old building without an elevator. The nearest subway stop was a good ten minute walk away. His doctors and parents - the people who took care of him - were all here in Ohio. It wouldn't be a good choice to leave now when he was already doing so poorly. "I can't stand the idea of holding you back," Al said, swallowing the pit in his throat back. "I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. Please, go to New York without me."

"Marry me."

Al was caught completely off guard by this question, although it was phrased much more like a statement than anything. Ollie's face looked frighteningly serious. "Wait... What?" Al asked him in shock. "Ollie, no, I can't do that. You know I love you. And I... I'd love to be married to you someday," he said, his voice wavering. "But right now you need to focus on building your career that you worked harder than anyone else to earn. You don't have time to drag me along and be my caretaker."

"Yes, I do," Ollie insisted with such conviction that it intimidated Al. "I love you, and I won't go to New York without you. It's not my dream, it's our dream. I'm sure I can defer my classes for at least one semester, right? That way we can wait until spring and hopefully you'll be all better by then."

Al shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know, Ollie. It sounds like you're sacrificing too much just for me. I can't hold you back."

"You wouldn't hold me back. I can take classes at the community college for a semester and it'll save me money overall," Ollie insisted. "It's my choice, and it's not a sacrifice if we're engaged right?"

"Ollie... Your whole life all you've ever wanted is to get out of this town," Al said sadly. "And what if I'm still not healthy enough by next semester? You can't know that."

"Then I'll stay longer. Yes my dream is to leave this town, but... I have another dream too. To spend the rest of my life married to you. So will you marry me, Al?" 

Later, Al would think back to this moment many times. Sometimes fondly, but mostly with regret. If he could turn back time, take it all back, would he? If he'd said no, things surely would have turned out differently. Ollie never would've lost his scholarship. He never would've had a reason to try to kill himself the first time. He never would've been successful the second time after failing to ever make up for that lost opportunity. In Al's most understanding moments, he realized that there was no way of knowing if these statements were true. Everything might've played out the same no matter what. But when Al was feeling most vulnerable, he regretted his answer because it made him truly believe it was all his fault. He should've known better. He was older, the more rational one from the start.

But instead, he'd said, "Okay." 

It was something he could never take back. They were married a month later, Al by proxy because he was too sick to leave the hospital. Their parents seemed reluctant to give their full blessing, but they did so anyway. They couldn't say no to Ollie's passion and Al, who at one point truly seemed like he might die. That was another maybe. If he'd never made it past twenty, what would have been different? Al felt such guilt related to his illness - both for being sick and for not being sick enough to die. If he had, Ollie would've been forced to move on without him.

It got worse when they moved to New York, trying to recapture that lost dream despite Ollie being unable to be re-accepted into the same program. Al was well enough to join him, but not well enough to work so he was always home. Ollie hated his day job answering complaints at the tabloid magazine and he hated his evening job of bussing tables at the diner. He hated their ugly and cramped apartment that was nothing like the brownstone he'd imagined living in. He hated himself for being so miserable, and he hated Al for being there for him to blame. Many times he lost his temper, usually when drunk, and told Al in no uncertain terms that he could be doing so much more if they weren't together. Al would cry, begging him not to go and Ollie's heart would melt every time. He'd feel guilty and play nice until his regrets overwhelmed him again. It was a vicious cycle.

Was it all bad? No - not most of the time. To the rest of the world, their marriage seemed infallible. They were Ollie and Al, always together and a beautiful couple. Most days, they both believed it too. But the cracks in their foundation could only hold so much regret, and at the end things had really started to crumble. Ollie's patience had worn thin and he snapped at Al often. "Maybe I should just kill myself. That or let's get a divorce." It wasn't the first time he said those words. But it would be the last time, and it was the first time Al had reacted so angrily, truly broken down from years of begging Ollie not to say such terrible things.

"Fine, if you hate me that much then just pick one already, I don't care anymore!" 

Al had regretted saying it even before it had fully left his mouth. He apologized quickly, his outburst leaving Ollie so shocked that it had completely diffused his anger. Eventually Ollie had nodded. Said he was okay. Kissed Al goodnight. They went to sleep side by side, the same as before: Ollie and Al. Together until the end, no matter what. Right?

Ollie didn't leave a note. They'd beaten everything they could have said to each other to death anyways, by the end. All the I love yous, the I'm sorrys, the thank yous. Any attempt at poetic justice would've seemed fake. But after so many threats, Al still didn't expect it to happen for real until he found Ollie's body, all signs of life long gone. 

Would he have done it all differently if he could? Al hoped he would've. But he was also a child, and Ollie had been too. When they were sixteen and seventeen, so in love and not afraid to promise each other the world, it seemed like nothing bad could ever happen as long as they were together. Every declaration of love seemed like the greatest feeling in the world. How could he have given that up? Al still treasured the memory of those early years, marred as they were by what had happened in the end. Even now he didn't want to give them up. So if he could go back in time and change it all, would he? Perhaps selfishly, Al didn't know.

[eideticspider]

Their building had CHARACTER--or at least that was what Al called it. It was older, sure--but when you're looking for a place with TWO beds and two baths, and a non-debatable BALCONY, they couldn't be too picky. Inside 48B, the common areas were small but HOMEY, organized but LIVED in. The curtains were pulled open to allow the bleeding SUNSET in, commingling with the dim lights sprinkled around the room.

Plants decorated the place, green and THRIVING. The fireplace in the living room was decorative only, instead filled with TALL pillar candles (fake, of course) and a small library of books. Soft pink accents decorate the smoky grey sofa, a white BLANKET tossed over casually as the television played another Korean DRAMA, filling the already bustling apartment with additional ambiance. The smell of COFFEE swirled around, suggesting WARMTH in an apartment kept purposefully cold.

Albert opened the door, his tie half-done around his neck, a song dying on his lips, jacket clasped in his hand. His eyes widen with shock at the sheer SIZE of their guest, his nose giving a little worried wriggle in a movement similar to his older sister's.

"Cin! There's a giant at the door!"

"He's not a GIANT, he's just my boss--don't be scared," Cindy called back from her bedroom. Blue silk swirled around her legs as she searched her jewelry box for the little SILVER necklace. Her heart was thudding rapidly in her chest, as it had been since she woke up that morning. (It's not EVERYDAY you attend your ex-boyfriend's wedding with your BOSS as your date--I mean, unless you're Katherine Heigl and this is a romantic comedy.)

Albert steps to the side, inviting him in and closing the door behind him. His fingers work clumsily on his TIE, frustration registering on his face. "Well, whatever he is, he's huge." He pauses and shoots Miguel an apologetic smile. "No OFFENSE, man. You're just...intimidating."

Nausea curls in her stomach, twisting and churning but she sucks in a deep breath and glances at herself in the mirror. She kept her long dark hair down, curled and waved against her exposed back. Her make-up was SIMPLE, but dramatic enough to suggest she cared about the formality of the event.

She clasps the necklace around her throat and padded out into the bedroom, her gown swirling around her leg exposed and peppered with goosebumps. Her eyes briefly touch on Miguel, nodding with APPROVAL. (C'mon--there has to be a LEGAL amount of hot someone can be.) Her cheeks paint a shade of pink closer to the DUSKY rose of her lips, but she chooses to ignore it.

Swirling around him, her familiar scent following her like a subtle cloud, she scoops the nude heels from the kitchen chair, using the back of the chair to balance herself as she slips them on her feet. Her fingers comb through her hair, her foot jiggling with anxiety before she returns her gaze to Miguel. "You clean up...NICE." She opts for the SAFE compliment, giving an unusually SHY smile.

Albert walks past them, still futzing with his tie before Cindy's hand shoots out and stops him in front of her, tongue sticking out in CONCENTRATION as she works the silk. "Hector's going to LOSE his shit," he hums, a glimmer of amusement in his brown eyes as they flicker in between the supposed "couple". Cindy huffs and rolls her eyes, patting his shoulder as she finishes his tie. "I don't really care. I just want to get through tonight so Mom will LEAVE me alone and everyone from school can keep my NAME out of their mouths."

The youngest in the room snorts and shakes his head, kissing her forehead as he moves to his bedroom to collect his shoes. "Yeah, you've got more LUCK becoming President than either of those things happening."

Cindy sighs softly, folding her arms across her chest, turning her attention back to her DATE. "He's MARRYING Audrey. She and I used to be...okay, I guess. She always WANTED what I had." There's a pause and she flickers her gaze over his form again, a smirk toying with the corners of her lips. "I'm pretty sure she's the one who started the RUMORS about me running away because I had a breakdown."

"She did!"

"Thanks Al!" She shakes her head, nose crinkling in thought. "So, I don't know if you're OPPOSED to lying, but--I figured we could tell them we met in Ireland and sort of wing it from there."

'Good' was debatable. 'Sport' would be made soon enough and ride with accuracy as far as his scruples.

Resigned, Miguel forced himself up with a grunt and draped his wrists over his knees. He looked over at Cindy.

"Yeah, well...I don't know about that, but sure, I'll take it."

With no further assurance, he jumped to his feet and kicked his shirt into the air, catching it, then disappeared into the men's locker room.

Punctuality being one of his most tenacious observances, Miguel came through the portal on the roof of Cindy's building twenty minutes before the appointed time. After a brief survey of the demesnes, he made directly for the stairwell. The hinges on the heavy metal door squealed beneath its weight and sent an echo bouncing down, the slab shut soundly behind him.

Miguel jogged down the first few steps before vaulting over the banister to the next set. This he did about three times, enough to indulge some adrenaline, before landing on the fourth floor - Cindy's floor - and resolving himself with a more deliberate gait as he went into the hall.

The attention to his appearance was nothing more than the usual in favor of conceit. Dressed in a charcoal gray Tom Ford pair with a black dress shirt, wearing a Rolex on the right wrist and the portal gadget on the left, Miguel deigned to wear no tie and left the first two buttons of his shirt open. His hair had the look of being ruffled - not slick enough to make him look austere and straitlaced but feathery and loose, suggesting he'd forked his fingers through it a few times. While he seldom bothered with fragrances, it was the foundation of a good impression that one should at least smell respectable. The fragrance of choice was something cool and clean, not too sharp, and with a hint of sweet.

48B, 48B...As he walked the hall in search of the apartment, Miguel noted his surroundings. Not totally reprehensible, the building looked - suffice it to say - used in comparison to his own deluxe dwellings. A retro shade of chestnut consisted between doors, the surfaces of which varied only with dents and the occasional patch of discoloration. Muffled reggae echoed down the passage, peaked into clarity as he passed the origin, then became muffled again. There was that slight mildewy smell of age to match the eggshell walls, and the tiling on the floor recommended replacement, though Miguel projected it'd last a few more years before the need could be appreciated. He spotted one or two places where patches of baseboard were missing and exposed the yellowed adhesive, and several feet ahead, he saw a couple splashes of brown on the ceiling panels, similar to coffee stains, indicating pipe leaks. However commonplace it was, it made him frown.

Standing in direct defiance of all he was accustomed to, what was wanting to him was perfectly habitable to many - it would have to be. New York was known to be densely populated and exude some kind of odor for it. Seeing the apartments placed so closely together made Miguel appreciate the generous space his many rooms demanded. It reminded him of the distraction he insisted on in paying dozens of Totems their rent money while they ran the risk of tardiness. He was duly reminded as well, checking his gizmo again, that the state of the outside wasn't a direct precursor to the character of the inside, howbeit he disliked going into people's homes at all as much as he did letting them into his. As one who functioned better in solitude, it was one of his favorite conceits, so much so Lyla had started teasing him for his serious absence of a social life, particularly on Friday night. Though said with affection, 'God, you're pathetic,' was invariably fixed to the end that jape and suffered with all the resentment of truth. Belaying that was considered added compulsion in his 'decision' to accompany Cindy. Though arguable from the point of her cause and what was essentially chaperoning, at least for one night, 'pathetic' couldn't be described of him.

48B was tucked at the very end of the hall on the left - what compelled the builders to number right to left instead of left to right Miguel had no idea. As he drew up to the door, he eyed the dull metal lettering and centered himself with a huff, then he knocked.

[arialysse]

Benevolent Martinet.

A Sugar Daddy!Albert Wesker x Reader AU Fic.

In collaboration with: @atquos

Summary:

After catching your ex-boyfriend cheating, your life changed drastically. From deadlines to overpriced rent, your friend has suggested to you to try for a sugar daddy, something that has never crossed your mind before. But what’s the worst that can happen, right? You tell yourself. What you didn’t expect however, was the multi-billionaire CEO of Umbrella Corp to be on the list. 

Warnings: Cussing, Cheating, Mentions of getting a sugar daddy

Chapter 1: The Discovery.

Chapters: [2], [3], [4], [5], [6], [7], [8]

smol update: Because of Aria's 'unable to describe clothes properly' deficiency, she has created a Pinterest board for both Albert Wesker and Y/N, if you have a hard time imaging the outfit that she tried describing, you may take a look at these boards for ideas :>

Y/N's outfit ideas!

Albor's outfit ideas! [added a few irrelevant ones tbh because i was hella thirsty oops-]

“Yeah, you just keep watching the show, Imma be right back with you.” Jeremiah, your long-time boyfriend urged, shoving the popcorn into your hands as he vanished into his room. You raised a brow at his sudden departure.

You just reached home after an exhausting day from working at your part-time job. A small, retail shop in the middle of a mall. The staff there were more than accommodating. When you had first joined the team, they were very patient in teaching you the ropes even going as far as to shoulder a complaint on you when you had messed up once. The shop sold apparel, accessories and even toiletries, an odd combination but you bite your tongue at the boss’s accentrics. 

The real problem, however, was the manager. He was a stout, middle-aged man who was a little enthusiastic when it came to female workers, like yourself. Your coworkers had warned you about the manager, of how not to stay too close to him as he tends to get really touchy. In short, he was a touch-starved pervert.

Once, a former staff member had enough of his antics and went to file a complaint to the HR, but it all led to a dead-end as the manager himself and the HR were in on it together, no thanks to some under-the-table bribing. No one had the power to do anything. So, in a team effort, you had all decided to avoid the manager whenever he was around. It was difficult as he’d often be seen out front, preaching about “customer happiness” and how “the customer is always right”, which was a load of crap if you asked me. 

After a long day of work, you just wanted to lay down on a soft, comfy mattress and sleep, but it seems that your boyfriend had other plans. Out of nowhere though, he had decided that he wanted to pamper you. When you stepped into your shared apartment, he surprised you with snacks, ice-cream and even a teddy bear. He had mentioned that it was because you have been “working very hard”.

You were elated, of course, as he was never the type to pull surprises like this. You were both just laying on the couch sharing the snacks that he had bought, when his phone abruptly rang. He excused himself in a hurry, hastily padding into his room. Out of exhaustion, you shrugged and excused his behavior, maybe one of his friends needed help with something.

However, something in your head urged you to eavesdrop on his conversation. At first, you snuffed that thought out, as you felt that it was rude to eavesdrop on other people’s business. But, was it paranoia or exhaustion-filled anxiety? You had no idea. With a lot of effort, you unwrapped yourself from the fluffy blanket he had smothered you with and tip-toed to the door of his room. 

"Babe, I’ve told you- No! Not now, I’m with my girlfriend. What?- I-I can’t, she’s going to get suspicious- Listen, let’s talk another time okay? I promise- Just-” You hear him sigh, “Okay, fine… I’ll try alright?”

You feel your heart shatter into pieces, as your suspicions were confirmed. You stood there, completely broken as your mind screamed “See! I told you.” , over and over again. Hearing incoming footsteps, you quickly dashed back to the sofa, pretending as if nothing happened. He came out from behind the door and sauntered back to where you were. Steeling your nerves as you have done many times before, you swallowed the lump in your throat and asked, “Who was it?”

“Oh, no one, just uh- Travis. Listen, babe, um- He said he needed help with something now, and-”

“This late?” Your emotions faltered a little, but your pride refused for you to break now.

“Y-yeah. He’s in a bit of a pinch now and I really really need to go. Are you okay with staying home alone for tonight? I know I said I’d pamper you tonight but, Travis man…” He looked away and you swore you could see the guilt clouding his eyes.

The words, You mean Madison? Were on the tip of your tongue but you decided to swallow those words and nodded at him. “Yeah, sure. Go ahead, I’m feeling sleepy anyways.” You lie, faking a yawn and a stretch. He grinned widely, accompanying you to his room before he said a quick goodbye. 

Pfft like hell I’m going to sleep, you thought sitting up from beneath the covers. Right now, you were furious, not only had he been cheating on you for god knows how long but he also straight up lied about it. You rolled your eyes at his words from earlier, feeling your eyes cloud over from tears. Shaking your head vehemently, you bit back the tears. I can cry all I want later, now I need to get out of here. 

Grabbing the duffel bag you had packed a long time ago from the drawer -in case anything like this happened- , You went to the dresser where you kept your share of clothes and stuffed them into the duffel bag without a single care. You were moving on autopilot, refusing to allow any other thoughts into your mind at the moment.

After changing your clothing into one more suitable for going out, you slung the duffel bag over your shoulder and slipped on your shoes, the only sound heard was from the still running television.

Glancing back at the apartment one more time, your eye caught on the teddy bear that laid on the sofa dejectedly, pity reflecting on its beady eyes. You double-checked that you had everything and closed the door one final time. Hearing the lock click into place, you left and quickly dialed a cab back home and since it was rather late, it was evident that it took awhile for the cab to answer. 

While waiting for the cab to arrive, you were feeling rather apprehensive, for fear that he may come home any time and catch you leaving his home. Fortunately, the headlights of the car approached the dark street, granting you a sense of relief. The kind driver assisted in placing your bag in the truck as you entered the backseat of the car. After confirming your location, the driver took off without another word as silence permeated in the car. 

Pulling out your phone from your pocket, you gave your best friends an update on what had happened. They were thankfully still awake and were dead set on calling you, but you told them that they can do that later as you were in a cab home. Some of their texts had you in tears but you refused to cry just yet. 

It wasn’t long before you reached the apartment complex which was your home. You haven’t been here for awhile as you lived with him. After handing you your belongings, the driver took off with a sincere goodbye. You sighed, trudging solemnly to the elevator, the sight making you feel rather nostalgic. 

You clicked on the button and waited for the familiar chime of the lift, signaling that you have arrived on your floor, but felt your phone vibrate. You felt bad that for a moment you had forgotten about your friends. Unlocking your phone, you glanced at the message your friend sent. 

Rubae ❣:

That limp-dick asshole didn’t deserve you anyway lol.

Niall-edIt ✧:

Right? Like imagine cheating on someone as faithful as (Y/N). What a clown.

Olyviuhh ☾:

What a prick. You know what, let’s all go out tomorrow. Drinks on me.

MeiMei ❅:

I’m so sorry for what happened, (Y/N). I just want to let you know that you are super strong for pushing through all of that and making the decision to leave. It was very brave of you! ^_^

Tears pooled in your eyes, making your vision blurry. Before you could even reply to them, the elevator chimed and you bolted into your apartment. Shutting the door behind you, the dam finally broke as you fell onto the floor and sobbed. The tears wouldn’t stop bursting forth, as you cried your heart out.

Amidst your whimpers, you suddenly hear your phone vibrate in repetition. Fear shot through your heart, has he already noticed that you were missing from his home? You weren’t ready to confront him just yet. With shaky hands, you peeked at your phone. Alas, it was just your very worried friends. Clicking on the green button, you were met with questions.

“Are you okay (Y/N)?! You hadn’t sent a reply and we got worried. Did that limp-dick asshole find you?! Is he with you?!” The plain-spoken Ruby asked frantically.

“N-no. I’ve just reached home, I’m sorry guys. I just… took a step home and broke down-” You whimpered as more tears fell from your eyes. 

“Aw, sweetheart… He doesn’t deserve you, at all. It’s going to hurt but, we’re here for you always.” The kind-hearted Mei promised gently.

“Mei’s right, we’ll be here for you. I’m going to be real here, he’s definitely going to call you or find you later but we’ll be with you, so don’t worry ‘bout it, ‘kay?” You could almost hear the wink in Niall’s tone.

You sobbed even harder and from the care of your friends, they were the people you never knew you needed in your life, and you were eternally grateful for them.

“Alright, alright. For now, you can cry all you want but afterwards, no more tears, not even tomorrow. It’s going to be difficult but, remember, you can’t show him that you’ve actually cried for him. He doesn’t and never will deserve your tears. Never give him that sense of victory.” Olyvia advised with disdain.

You let out a hum of approval at her words. She was right. After a bit more talking and assurance from your friends, they suggested that you get cleaned up and try to get some sleep, as you all had classes the following morning. You got up from the doorstep and placed the duffel bag on the small couch that you owned, deciding that you would deal with that tomorrow. 

Strolling over to your bathroom, you splashed a handful of water over your face, cleaning away the tear tracks and snot that dribbled out of your nose from all your crying. You also made the effort to brush your teeth, all the while avoiding the mirror. Rinsing your mouth, you couldn’t help but glance at your own reflection. You looked horrible, needless to say. Bloodshot eyes, red-faced and heartbroken. With a sigh, you headed into your bedroom to plop down on the mattress. You frown, as you feel your thoughts spiral again. 

Why did he cheat?

Was he willing to break his promise of not leaving because you were a horrible girlfriend?

What did Madison have that you didn’t? Good assets? Great sex?

Were you just not good enough?

You let a broken sob escape your throat as you feel another flood of tears coming. As much as you were hurt, you were also infuriated. You had done everything he had told you to do, endured his unfairness and even took care of his needs, even if you got the down-side of it all. So exactly, what did you do wrong? Unbeknownst to you, you fell unconscious before you had the chance to think about any other things.

Sleep that night was, understandably, grueling. You woke up multiple times from seeing his face in your dreams, pleading for it to go away as you tossed and turned, the stress from your never-ending amount of coursework and the unnecessarily costly rent that you had to fork out by yourself. Before you knew it, your alarm blared, resonating throughout your room. 

No thanks to the amount of sleep you had, you had a pounding migraine. Getting up from your bed, you trudged into your bathroom akin to a zombie . While washing up, memories of last night came flooding into your head. Unanswered questions, doubts and deadlines to chase. You furrowed your brows, feeling your headache worsen from those thoughts. You placed your palm on your temple, guess I’ll have to take some painkillers before classes if not I won’t be able to focus properly.

Opening the cabinet compartment of your mirror, you squint, trying to find the bottle of ibuprofen. Grabbing the white container with a red and white logo, you went over to your kitchen to grab a glass of water to ingest the pills with. After taking 2 pills, you quickly make your way back to your room to change and gather materials for your class.

Just as you were placing your pencil case into your tote bag, you heard a knock at your door. You flinched, panic spreading over you. Could it be Jeremiah? He must’ve realized that you had put your phone on silent and got impatient so he came over instead. The knocks on the door started to sound more and more impatient. 

With a shaky breath and even shakier legs, you carefully made your way to your door, the knocks sounding as loud as your beating heart. Biting your lip, you peeped into the peeping hole, releasing your breath in a tentative sigh to find out that it was only Olyvia. You opened the door without a second thought.

“Girl, what the hell were you doing?! You got me worried sick for god's sake! Did you suddenly lose your phone or do you just not know how to answer calls?” She nagged, giving you a hug. “Sorry! Sorry… I was just getting ready for the day. I had to-...” You paused, “I had to take some ibuprofen. My sleep was not good, no surprise there, and I woke up with the most nasty headache.” You explained sheepishly, hugging her back.

She released her hold, “I understand but please, if you’re silencing your phone because of that douche, silence him only, don’t shut us out too alright? We’re all worried for you.” You nodded and gave her a smile at her concern. “So are you ready or not? Classes will start in forty-five and it’s going to take me around half-an-hour to get there.” You nodded again and told her to wait as you went up to grab your belongings. You still refused to check your phone as she handed you a spare helmet and ushered you onto her bike. 

“Ready? Hang on tight.” You gripped onto her waist as she revved the engine and took off. The drive to your college was pleasant save for the small pounding of the headache that was still present, as Olyvia tried her best to avoid talking about the incident last night and you from thinking about it as well. You mentioned to her about her speed when she had stopped at a red light. She huffed with a smirk, “You should see my meter when I’m alone. I’m only holding back because I have a passenger.” You shook your head and made a joke about crashing in style, causing her to chuckle along with you.

It wasn’t long before you neared the driveway of your college. You squint your eyes, seeing the familiar faces of Ruby, Niall and Mei standing at the entrance waiting for the both of you. They greeted you with a smile as you got off and handed the helmet back to Olyvia. Your friends have also decided to avoid the topic of yesterday while Olyvia went to park her bike. 

Mei stretched her hand out, nudging you with a brown paper bag. “Here, I know you don’t normally eat before class, but I got you your favorite bread and something else worth trying from the bakery near my house.”

You tilted your head in question, taking the paperbag from her hands. Your friends had found your aversion to food in the morning worrying, but after realizing that you were fine, they were slightly less worried. You gasped when you eyed the contents of the bag, it was your favorite Ham and Cheese toasted sandwich! It sat snugly next to another bun as well as a carton of milk. 

“Mei… Thank you so much for this. I don’t know what else to say.” You gave her a tearful smile. She shook her head and laughed, “No need. As long as I know you’re feeling better, I’m happy.”

“Not to break the moment but… I’ve been so curious that I might die,” Niall broke in, “But did he say anything?” You shook your head, “Um… To be completely honest, I haven’t checked my phone yet…”

“Yeah so much so that I almost broke down her door because she didn’t pick up my phone.” Olyvia chimed it with a roll from her eyes. Ruby placed a hand on your shoulder, “We can all see it together if you want, but now, let’s head to class, it’s about to start.” You all agreed and quickly went into the lecture hall.

The day went by slow, as you focused on your classes instead of other, irrelevant thoughts. Your friends were with you, luckily, sometimes all or just one as they needed to head to other classes. But one thing is for sure, neither of them left you alone. To your astonishment, you did not once check your phone. They had told you that you didn’t need to as they would help communicate to each other in the groupchat for you.

Lunchtime came by. There you sat, on one side with your friends huddled up opposite of you, outside of Starbucks. The moment of truth causes the familiar uneasiness in your belly. Your friends suggested that they take a look at the messages first, as they might cause you to break down again. You agreed to that suggestion, fearing the embarrassment of wailing unabashedly in the public eye. 

Upon entering your passcode and pulling up the chat, frowns decorated their faces the more they unveiled the messages sent by your ex-boyfriend. Anxiety gripped onto your heart like the thorns on roses. You bit your lip out of habit, the reactions from your friends causing more tension.

“Nah, no. You shouldn’t see this. Nope, nada, nuh-uh. This motherfucker. I swear to god...” Niall groaned, disgust spilling from his words. “Niall’s right. This asshole is the lowest of low.” Ruby glowered in disbelief. Mei shook her head with a sigh, “We should never have approved of your relationship with him.” Olyvia looked like she was about to smash your phone into pieces, “Should we all pull up on him and give him a lesson, I have a metal bat that would love meeting his skull.”

“Hey, it’s alright. May I at very least see what he said?”

Your words caused a flurry of ‘no’s and head shakes. This time, it was your turn to frown, “Please? It can’t be that bad… Right?”

Niall gave you a look, “No means no. Okay look- how about this, we can screenshot his messages and keep them on our phones, or on one of our phones. But erase all traces of him on your phone.”

“What? Why? For what?” You raised a brow, frown still decorating your features.

“I agree with Niall,” Mei cut in, “We fear you might not be able to endure this…”

You fell back onto your chair in stupefaction. It was unusual for Mei to agree with Niall and his methods sometimes or to hide anything from you even. Was it really that bad?... You feel the familiar blur of tears clouding your eyes again until a firm hand on your shoulder snapped you out of your thoughts.

“When you’re better, which you will be without a doubt, you can see these messages again if you wish to, but for now, I think we should just focus on getting you better first. However, we are all ears if you don’t want to see the messages or for us to delete it.” Ruby affirmed, massaging your shoulder. Even Ruby, who was usually straight-forward and blunt, agreed with protecting you from the messages. 

Niall got to work screen-shotting the photos and sending it to your friends. You began to feel the spark of anger from their selfishness. “The messages are meant for me. Don’t I at least get to see something? Come on guys.”

Feeling your frustration, they looked at each other, until Olyvia broke the tension with a sigh. “Fine, we’ll show you one part okay? But don’t say we didn’t warn you about it.” She pulled out her phone and saved the images of the chat. She thought for a moment on which one to show you exactly but Mei piped in, “I think you should show her the part where he was begging. That wasn’t too bad.”

Olyvia nodded and strode over to where you sat, showing you the screen of her phone. You teared up reading his messages.

Baby? Where did you go?

Oh shit.

Don’t tell me you know?

Fuck.

I’m sorry baby.

Please come back, please.

I promise I’ll explain okay?

It was an accident. I promise it won’t happen again, I swear on my life it won’t.

Please answer me. 

Please baby answer me.

There were more message bubbles below but it was cut off. “Can I see one more? Please?” You pleaded, while Olyvia handed you a tissue to wipe your tears with. “Trust me it gets worse. Until I know you’re ready to stomach the rest, this is all you’re getting. Please understand that we only want what’s best for you.”

At her words, you stood up abruptly, suddenly feeling very sick in the stomach, surprising everyone. “I… I think I need a moment.” You walked away briskly, to somewhere, anywhere. You needed some time to rationalize with your thoughts and emotions, and they let you.

You walked around the campus for a while, just hearing the sounds of people talking, birds chirping and water sloshing from the fountain. You thank whatever deity was out there for an additional hour of lunch, this would mean that you wouldn’t need to rush back to your friends or to class. 

Sitting below a large tree, you relished the tranquility. Just for a moment, you thought, you needed some peace for just a moment. You brought your knees up to your chest, trying to calm yourself down. Part of you was mad at your friends. It felt as if they were trying to blackmail you or something. But part of you knew that it wasn’t the case. They were just trying to protect you from whatever awful things that your ex had sent. 

You sigh with a groan and bury your head into your knees, trying to soothe whatever conflicting emotions that you were muddled with. Rent is due soon, I have work tomorrow so I should be able to cover the costs right? But what about food? God, do I have to resort to eating instant noodles again. I should never have bought that cheating son of bitch gifts that he didn’t appreciate. Today’s assignments are just as much, do I have enough time to finish it? Do I have enough time to study for the test next week? You groaned again in frustration, curling your fingers into your hair. 

What am I going to do? Should I ask for more shifts? But that would mean less time studying. Maybe I can do it. But I can’t afford to mess up now, if my grades slip any further I might get expelled. You bite your lip so hard you could taste the metallic tang of blood, tears falling from your eyes. 

Sniffling for the last time, you wiped your tears and brought your head up from under your arms. There were a couple of students that glanced at you with pity. It wasn’t unusual for a student to cry because of stress. You sighed, deciding to leave whatever issues that may arrive later. You stood up, dusting off dirt from your skirt and began to walk back to where your friends were.

“(Y/N)!” Ruby ran over to you, enveloping you into an embrace. “I’m- We’re… So sorry.” She let go before you could even do anything, your other friends walking towards you slowly.  “I apologize, (Y/N). We were prying into your business more than necessary.” Mei gave you a sad look. 

“Yeah,” Niall scratched the back of his head, “I shouldn’t have suggested the idea of us saving the photos. It’s your call to see what he sent and I’ve taken it as if I was the one in your situation. I’m sorry, (Y/N).” 

Olyvia glanced away, “Whatever your choice is, know that we’ll always respect your decision and we’ll still be here for you.”

You smiled a little, heart warming at the sight of them admitting their mistakes and apologizing. “Thanks guys, but… I think I’ll stick with Niall’s plan. I can’t afford to break down now. I’ll let you all know when I’m ready. I really appreciate that you guys are trying to shield me from what he said.” They ‘aww’ed and Niall initiated a group hug. Soon, he let go and everyone strolled back to classes.

Before you knew it, classes were finally over for the day. 

Olyvia had suggested going to a pub to ‘drink the pain away’. Mei countered that it was an unhealthy habit but allowed it to slide as it was a once in a while thing. “Can we not go toThe Spades? It’s, well… You know…” You thought back to when you first met your ex at that very pub and cringed.

The silver-headed female placed an assuring hand on your back, “Of course not. We’re going to another one this time. I promise you that it’s just as good.” Olyvia sent Niall, Ruby and Mei the address of the pub and you all went your separate ways. You sat behind Olyvia while Niall drove Mei and Ruby. 

The winds and lights rushed by as you stared idly at the view in silence. Not long, you see the large, yellow-blue neon sign of the pub. ‘After Glow’ it read. You raised a brow but smiled nonetheless, at the innuendo. 

Settling down at a high table, your friends ordered their choice of drinks and some snacks. After some small talk, the waiter came back with a tray of food and drinks. ‘Cheers!’ your group sang, taking a sip of your drinks. Everyone had the same thought that it was far from the weekends therefore, not too much drinking.

“I swear, Mrs. Miller is the worst. Imagine giving us like, 300 assignments a day. I swear to god.” Niall complained after a sip of his sour whiskey. “Right? That old hag. Who told her that it was okay to give that many assignments to a student in a day. She had no right whatsoever to do that honestly.” Ruby agreed with a reddening face. 

Mei only chuckled, “We’re in college boys and girls. They’re loading us with so much work to teach us how to manage our time properly.” The short-haired woman twirled her glass of old fashioned. As they resumed talking, you can’t help but zone out of the conversation. Your mind, heightened with the alcohol, started to spiral with thoughts again. Rent, Assignments, Work, Money, Test, Jeremiah. It circled over and over, making you feel sick. 

You took another sip of your drink, tasting the bitter aftertaste of the alcohol, trying to drown out your nausea and thoughts. Just then, a hand placed itself over your back, soothingly going up and down. Olyvia must’ve sensed your distress and in an attempt to comfort you, she ran her hands along your back. 

“You good? Wanna talk about it?” You sigh at her, trying not to cry. “I… Just… There’s a lot of shit going on right now and… I just can’t stop worrying about it,” You couldn’t stop for some reason, “Now that I’m living by myself again, I’ll need to deal with the overpriced rent alone. Which might cause me to go on another instant noodle fest. If my manager decides to dock my pay again, I might end up homeless. That shitty landlord won’t take late payment because of trauma I’m guessing. And then there’s a test coming up next week, and I don’t know if I’m going to have time to study for it, I might have to take up more jobs if I’m going to be able to pay for the rent next month.” You groaned, massaging your temple.

You look up to see Niall raise a brow, “Wait, where did all the money you saved up go? I thought you had more than enough to pay for your current rent?”

“I used to. Then Jeremiah demanded that I pay half the rent for living at this place too because it ‘wouldn’t be fair’ if I’m living with him but using his utilities for free and that if I don’t, I should just go home. Turns out, I’ve been paying 75% of the rent. But I kept quiet because I was so damn blinded and stupid.” You confess with a sigh. “ Ruby gave you a look of incredulity, “Are you serious right now? That motherfucker… What kind of a man is he?”

“I can still pull up. My metal bat is still eager to meet him.” Olyvia chimed in nonchalantly whilst chewing on a fry.

Mei gave you a gentle smile, “It’ll be alright, (Y/N). Don’t worry too much about money. If you need, I’m sure all of us here would be more than happy to lend you a hand.”

You shook your head, “No. I can’t. I won’t borrow money from any of you. I’ll just have to deal with it.”

There was suddenly a pause. The song from the radio, people chattering and the clinking of glass bounced off the walls of the cozy pub. Ruby licked her lips then, ready to speak. “I know it’s going to sound crazy but, (Y/N), how,” She paused, eyeing you hesitantly, “How about finding a sugar daddy?”

There was another pause before Niall howled in laughter. “Her? A sugar daddy? Please, Ruby! I think you’ve had too much tonight.” You see Olyvia trying to stifle a snicker and Mei shaking her head with a smile. Ruby frowned, “Why not? I think it’s a pretty good idea if you asked me.”

“First of all, (Y/N) is not the type to find one-night stands unlike her shit-stain of an ex. I mean, have you seen how faithful she is? Remember Noah from the other class? Remember how he tried to hit on her but she rejected him each and every time?” he paused, taking a swig, “Secondly, (Y/N) gets attached to the people she dates very quickly, too quickly actually, and sugar babies are all about getting the money and then dipping. Lastly, it would totally traumatize her and she’s been traumatized enough by that douche. I mean, I’m pretty sure a lot of sugar daddies don’t only have ONE single sugar baby, right? They’re rich, so they most likely want variety.” He concluded smugly, taking a bite of the pizza.

You purse your lips, unable to deny his claims. “Gee Niall, I thought we were out to comfort me tonight, not to call me the fuck out.” Everyone at the table laughed at your words. “Well, if you’re still keen, I know a friend that has access to a safe and trustable sugar daddy meeting website.” Ruby restated, taking a bite out of the fry. “Safe and trustable? Who is she? The CEO of the website?” The male gibed.

“Niall for the love of god. You should probably keep your mouth shut if you don’t earn as much figures as she makes from fucking rich old men from that website.” The red-haired woman rolled her eyes in annoyance.

“Hey! Who says I don’t make a lot of figures, I’ll have to remind you that my parents are both CEOs of DIFFERENT companies.” He bragged, glaring at her. 

“Sure that’s cool and all, but that still ain’t your money right, mommy’s boy?” Ruby provoked, leaning against her hand.

“Mommy’s boy? You take that back right now, I ain’t no mommy’s boy!” Niall stood up from the chair, pointing a finger at his provoker.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough. Let’s call it a day, yeah. You both had a little too much tonight.” Mei stood up, placing her hands between Niall and Ruby. 

After settling the bill and bidding each other goodbyes, you hopped onto the back of Olyvia’s bike. Watching as Niall, Ruby and Mei enter Niall’s car. “Will they really be alright?…” You thought aloud. “Eh, I’m sure they’ll be fine. Mei’s in there.” Olyvia secured the black helmet on her head. “Let’s go now.”

The ride back to your home was short. Olyvia had insisted on escorting you all the way back to your apartment to make sure you were safe, in case Jeremiah had decided to pop up out of nowhere. Fortunately for the both of you, he was nowhere to be seen. You closed the door after bidding the silverette one last goodbye and headed to your bathroom to shower. 

You feel the droplets of refreshing, hot water clearing today’s negativity, clearing your mind of clutters temporarily. Exiting the bathroom with a towel around your torso, you hear your phone chime. Walking to your bedroom where your phone was, you sat down on the bed and checked your notifications.

Rubae ❣:

Here’s the website that I was talking about. Check it out, or not. Up to you ;)

sugaryparadise.com/signup

You shut your phone and thought. A sugar daddy? But what Niall said… It’s true, I don’t think I can do this…

You stood up and dressed into your pajamas. Settling down on your study desk, you pulled out your assignment folder, and got to work, trying to finish as much as you can. All the while, the thought of getting a sugar daddy permeates throughout your brain. Biting your lip in frustration, you lightly bumped your head on the wooden table.

I mean… If I take up another job, I would be able to pay for the rent. But that would also mean that my grades may slip from the lack of studying. But then… You huffed, scratching your head. You decided that it was time for a break. Standing up and arranging your table neatly, you took your water bottle and strolled over to your kitchen. 

That’s when you noticed it. A white envelope with a stamp.

How did I not notice this when I came home earlier? You set your water bottle down on the dining table and investigated the letter. Peeling open the top, you took out the paper within.

What you saw made your stomach drop.

Dear Residents of Areca Apartment,

Due to the rising cost of electricity and water bills, we will be increasing every individual’s rent by 20%. Because of that, we will permit the rent of the current month and the new rent to be paid by the end of the next month.

After the end of the following month, prompt payment is to be expected at the end of every month again. Failing to do so will result in us taking legal action against you, which we strongly advise against.

We apologize for any inconvenience caused.

For more information, contact your landlord at xxxxxxxxxxxxx.

Thank you.

Yours faithfully,

Thomas Benjamin

Your jaw dropped. What the hell? Is this even legal? You sat down on the dining chair in shock, leaning against your hands. With a whimpering sigh, you begin to cry again. “What did I do to deserve all this?...” You whispered solemnly. Wracking through your head for a solution, any solution. With your current pay, you would need to survive on instant noodles again, this time, for a whole month instead. You doubt you’d survive. Then it hit you.

The sugar daddy website Ruby suggested.

Scampering to your room, you grabbed your phone and entered the dm with Ruby. The blue-highlighted website stared back at you. You bit your lip hesitantly.

Is it really worth it? Losing my dignity for money? But I NEED the money to survive. What would the others think? Taking in a deep breath of air, well, what’s the worst that can happen?

You clicked on the url.

==========

AO3 Link Wattpad Link

[favefandomimagines]

Oh (e.b.)

Summary: buck runs into his ex fling, taylor kelly, leaving you to feel like nothing but a second choice

AN: inspired by the winter finale of 911

You were a catch. You were smart, had a good job, beautiful. Guys were lining up to date you and yet the man you wanted to be with didn’t want you.

It seemed to everyone around you that the two of you were meant to be but to Buck, it wasn’t that obvious. He didn’t see how you looked at him, didn’t hear how you talked about him. Clearly, he didn’t know how you felt about him.

So, you stuck it out. You put your feelings on the back burner and just decided to be his friend. If he wanted to be with you, he would.

But you couldn’t ignore the feeling in your chest when he told you he was having dinner with Taylor Kelly.

“We got to talking at that call and then Albert said him and Veronica were having dinner and I just, called and asked if she wanted to come.” Buck explained. “And she said yes?” You asked.

“Yeah, she seemed on board. Maybe this is the universe telling me something.” He said. “The universe? You’ve never believed in that stuff.” You told him. “But this is Buck 3.0. I’m all for a change.” Buck answered. “When is this dinner again?” You asked. “Wednesday at 6.” He said. 

“Oh.” You muttered quietly. Wednesday was your birthday. And it seemed that Buck was caught up in bettering himself and finding someone that he had completely forgotten about you. But you had enough trying to remind him and get him to see that you were right there the whole time. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you looked at the mug in your hands. “You okay?” He asked. “Uh, yeah. I think I’m gonna head home. I have a long shift tomorrow.” You said, rising from your seat.

“You just got here.” Buck pointed out. “Buck, I just, I gotta go.” You said in a more stern manner. He looked at you with furrowed eyebrows and watched you leave his apartment.

You let out a large sigh as you got in your car before the tears came.

How were you so unlucky that the guy you were head over heels for, wanted someone else? He wanted someone else so much, he forgot about her birthday. When you were right there through everything? You were there through Abby leaving, Ally breaking up with him, the lawsuit against the department, his parents, everything. And yet you were left on the back burner. 

You always put his feelings above your own, not because you felt like you should. But because you cared about him and if he was happy, you were happy. Though, the more you thought about it, the more you realized that he sometimes didn’t give you that same courtesy. 

Your day was like the day from hell. Everything that could go wrong in your line of work, went completely wrong. To make matters worse, you had lost one of your favorite patients. She had stage 3 leukemia but she never let that change her personality. 

She made going to the hospital after shifts worth while because at least you got to spend time with her. But the cancer was too aggressive for the chemo and she died in her sleep that night. You tried not to let losses get to you but she had been your patient since you started volunteering at the hospital. You were really hoping you’d see her remission but the universe had other plans. 

All you wanted to do was lay on the couch with Buck and just cry. You got in your car and dialed his number, getting a few rings before he picked up. “Hey, you!” He greeted you. “Hey, do you maybe want to come over later? I’ve had the worst day. I lost a patient and-” You started before he cut you off. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I can’t. I have a date tonight, trying to put myself back out there.” He said. “I can come over after.” He added. “No, forget it. It’s fine.” You said. “You sound upset.” Buck said. “I’m fine, Buck. Enjoy your date.” You replied before hanging up the phone. 

Since that evening, you had been avoiding Buck like the plague. On shifts, you wouldn’t talk to him. Sticking to Chimney and Hen like glue to avoid any conversation with Buck. 

You went so far to ask to ride in the ambulance to calls, rather than in the fire engine like usual. It wasn’t odd for you to be in the ambulance because you were an EMT but you usually rode with the rest of the team.

“Does anyone know why Y/N won’t ride with us anymore?” Buck asked his crew. “Are you that dumb?” Hen asked. “Hen,” Bobby started. “It’s because of you, dude.” Eddie answered. “Me? What did I do?” Buck questioned. “Well, you blow her off all the time, completely ignore her feelings and ditch her for dates and you’re so oblivious you can’t see that she’s totally in love with you.” Eddie explained. “When you were hurt in the hospital, she didn’t come to work for days because she didn’t want you the throw a clot. She had to work triple shifts just to make enough to pay her rent because of all the days she missed sitting with you. Did you ever thank her for that?” Bobby added. “Well, no, but-” He started. 

“And when she lost her favorite patient, Emily, did you ask her if she was okay?” Bobby asked. “I-I couldn’t I had a date. And she didn’t say it was Emily.” Buck said, trying to defend yourself. “If you don’t reciprocate her feelings, that’s fine. But she’s your best friend. And as her best friend, you are supposed to be there when she needs you. She shouldn’t have to explain herself.” Bobby concluded. “You also forgot her birthday.” Chimney added as they all got out of the engine. 

The rest of his shift, Buck tried getting you to talk to him. But it was always, ‘I’m busy, Buck’ or ‘Can’t talk, we’re working.’ He’d given up when he tried to stop you after a call and you had given him a look he had never seen before. 

The guilt was eating him alive. He was a terrible friend to you and he thought being with you was a pipe dream. Until Hen and Eddie told him you loved him. But regardless of your feelings for him, you had done so much for him and he didn’t realize it until you were gone. 

That night, Buck went over to Taylor’s to gain more perspective on what he could do to fix what he royally screwed up. 

“I don’t know what to do. She hasn’t talked to me in weeks. We’ve never gone this long without talking.” Buck explained to Taylor.

“Well, you did forget her birthday. And not give it a second thought that she was hurting over the loss of a patient.” She said. “That’s not helping.” He replied. “You asked for my help and I’m being honest. You really hurt her. She almost got evicted because she was so worried about you. The first person she wanted to be with after her friend died was you and you went on a date instead.” Taylor said. “I know. I tried to talk to her but she won’t answer any of my calls or texts. She won’t even look at me anymore.” Buck said. 

“You are so stupid sometimes.” Taylor laughed. “What?” Buck asked. “She has feelings for you. Why else would she get so upset? If she only saw you as a friend, you would be getting screamed at not avoided.” She explained.

“Everyone keeps saying that but there’s no way Y/N has feelings for me. She’s...perfect. Perfect doesn’t fall for damaged goods.” Buck rebutted. “Trust me, she loves you.” Taylor told him. “And do you love her?” She asked. “Of course I do. But being with her seemed like it was too good to happen so I tried to move on. I guess I tried so hard I ended up hurting her anyways.” Buck answered. 

“Then tell her. And do a whole lot of graveling while you’re at it.” Taylor said. 

Buck quickly left the apartment and got into his car driving like a bat out of hell. When he arrived at your apartment, he didn't even bother to park in the parking stall correctly, his main focus was just getting to you.

When he finally reached your door, he knocked on it rather harshly and heard the sound of your urgent footsteps coming to find out who it was.

"Buck? What are you doing here?" You asked. Buck couldn't even find the words to answer because he was more focused on what you were wearing.

You had on a formed fitting red dress, your hair was curled and flowing over your shoulders and you looked beautiful.

"Wh-Why are you dressed like that?" He stammered. "I have a date." You answered. "You have a date? With who?" Buck asked. "Emily's brother. We became close when Emily had chemo and after she died we kept in tough. Why are you here?" You questioned.

"Don't go on the date. Please, for the love of god, don't go on that date. Because I love you, Y/N. I was too stupid to see it until you weren't around anymore. And I was terrible to you. I was supposed to be your best friend and I was so worried about my own life I dnd't even ask you how you were doing and oh my god I missed your birthday." Buck rambled.

"Slow down, Buckley, and talk to me at a normal rate, please." You said.

Buck took a deep breath and looked at you intently. "I'm in love with you. I-I always have but being with you always seemed like a pipe dream because you're perfect. You have always been perfect and you know that I'm not." Buck explained.

"Exactly. I've seen you at your worst and I still love you but even as your best friend you never gave me the time of day. Missing my birthday to go to dinner with Taylor Kelly. Brushing me off after Emily died because you had a date." You laughed bitterly. "I have stood by you no matter what. But god forbid I need you once in a while." You added.

"And I am so sorry, Y/N. You have every right to be upset with me, I'm upset with me. I'm pissed off at myself because I didn't realize what I had until it was too late." Buck replied. "Evan, do you understand the situation you just put me in? I get to go on a date with a great guy, one who actually pays attention and then the man I've been in love with for years, shows up at my doorstep to tell me he loves me back." You started.

Buck's facial expression fell, fearing the worst and anticipating you telling him that you'd moved on and he was too late.

"And I have to call that guy and tell him that I can't make it. Because the person I actually want to be with is right here." You finished.

The light in Buck's eyes returned at your words, looking at you with a gentle smile.

"Really?" He asked. "Yes, really and please don't make me regret it. You've screwed up a lot lately, let's not add us to the list." You said. "So there's an us now?" Buck questioned. "I-If that's okay with you." You stuttered. "It's absolutely okay with me." Buck said with a smile.

"I guess I got all dressed up for nothing." You sighed, letting Buck inside your apartment.

Buck was quiet for a moment as he watched you take your heels off and your earrings, placing them on the table by the door. "Then let's not make it for nothing. Let me take you out on our first official date." He said.

"Besides, I need to see you in that dress more often." He added a smirk on his face. "Alright then, Buckley. Take me on a date. You have a lot to make up for." You smiled, offering him your hand.

Buck took your hand in his, happily, and held you steady as you put your shoes back on. “Trust me, Y/N, it’ll be the best date you’ve ever been on.” He said. 

In the moment, you laughed at his words but after the date had concluded and all was said and done, it had indeed been the best date you have ever been on. 

[bellasweetwriting]

RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN COWORKERS

spencer reid x f.reader

(not my gif)

masterlist

plot: After months in the BAU, Spencer and you still don’t seem to get along.

prompt: “if I was in a room with Hitler, Napoleon and you, and I had a gun with two bullets, I’ll shoot you twice”

warnings: enemies to lovers, hate, angst, everything you can think of

note: it’s the fact that I went into a mental breakdown for almost a year and I hadn’t wrote anything... hehehehe

It was no secret Spencer and you never got along.

It all started when you first got in. You guys seemed to bond about music and movies, yet when the work started, you guys had complete different versions of what was right.

You were spontaneous, Spencer was calculated. You weren’t much of a talker, Spencer couldn’t shut up. You followed your instincts, Spencer followed data. Both of you had good ideas, but you never agreed with each other.

The whole BAU could see it, so you guys weren’t hiding it. This whole messed up organization in work killed any chance of you and Spencer ever becoming friends outside of it. The team was your family, and you love family... doesn’t mean you have to like them.

Spencer and you didn’t like each other, but both of you still cared for the other.

Sometimes, as you yell «I hate you», you don’t mean it, but when you say «I love you», you are completely joking. You don’t mean any insult, but you definitely lie in every compliment. You care for each other, but you are not friends.

You are like an old married couple that has to put up with each other, and for some reason, Hotch loves to team them you guys up in every case, maybe because the team gets entertained every time you guys have to do something together.

It’s not common to see Spencer Reid getting angry, and he always gets angry with you.

"Okay, Y/N, Reid, I need you to stay here. You got victimology. I need you guys to find a connection between this three girls."

You looked at them. They had nothing in common. Not even their eye color. Why would a serial killer have such a messed up victimology? It wasn’t a type.

You and Spencer were left alone in the police station, in the conference room where the team had set up. While Spencer was reading every bit of information about the victims, you were bouncing around, thinking about the three girls.

"Would you stop?" Spencer asked you and you paused your bouncing. "I’m trying to read... and actually work."

"I’m working, Doc," you argued before placing your index finger against the side of your forehead. "I’m using this to figure out the connection between these three girls. What are you doing?"

"Reading about the three girls and not waiting for a divine signal from the sky!" He snapped before looking down. "You are so difficult."

"You are so boring!"

Spencer has never hated someone as much as he hated you.

"Look, my mom told me to never be rude to people, but I just have to say this: If I was in a room with Hitler, Napoleon and you, and I had a gun with only two bullets, I’d shoot you twice."

You scoffed. "No, you wouldn’t. I actually save people by stopping serial killers. You’d be letting two of the worse dictators in history alive so they can kill..." But you stopped yourself before sitting next to Spencer. "Hand over the files..."

Spencer followed your request and you opened them in a hurry, taking out the class schedules for each girl.

"They all are into this tutoring program," you started reading. "They get personal classes. Brittany, the first victim, was written up from History Lessons, and the other two got English classes from the same tutoring program. These girls didn’t know each other, but they—"

"Could have the same teacher," whispered Spencer. "It’s the same tutoring couch, this guy..."

"We need to call Hotch," you mumbled. "We may have our unsub. Call Garcia, check if he fits the profile."

Hotch not always pairs you up so he can get free entertainment, but because he knows you guys do a great team. By annoying each other, you get out your best qualities into the light. You push each other to be better profilers. And you don’t realize it as you guys keep bickering each other, but if it wasn’t for the other, you wouldn’t be as good profilers as you are now.

After the case, more likely after Spencer and you cracked it up in almost fifteen minutes, you were sitting in the jet ride back home, reading a book as you were trying to stay awake.

The fact that you were reading something caught Spencer’s attention. The way you kept pushing your hair away from your face so you can read better, or how you would yawn, but refuse to sleep. He imagined you were arriving to an interesting part.

Spencer stood up, walking towards you. "I love that book. Did you arrive—"

"Shut up, Reid," you cut him off before yawning a bit. "Don’t ruin it for me like you did with The Phantom of the Opera."

"That ending was obvious. You’re a profiler!"

"How to Kill a Mockingbird?"

"Okay, that one was on purpose," he admitted as he sat down, you toes almost touching his leg from under your blanket. "I won’t ruin it for you this time."

You smirked before closing the book. "We did well today, catching that unsub."

"If we hadn’t bickered at each other like we did, we would have taken longer," pointed out Spencer. "Maybe, someone else would be dead."

You couldn’t help but to smile. "Are you calling us «superheroes», Doc?" He rolled his eyes. "I’m definitely a superhero, like Batman. You’re the other guy."

"I’m definitely not Robin."

"I know that! You’re my butler, Albert."

"Alfred," he corrected and you smiled.

"So you agree... I’m Batman and you’re Alfred."

He let out a sigh. "I’m out of this conversation."

You liked to make fun of Spencer, it was actually one of the things you liked about the job. You cared about him, even if you didn’t like him.

And that’s why sometimes you doubted. If you hate someone... why care about their well being? Is it like caring for someone of your family when you don’t actually like them? Was it like that with Spencer?

The next day, as you arrived to the office, you noticed how in your desk there’s a box with chocolates and a bouquet of flowers, and for a second you wished it was from Spencer’s.

That thought went away as fast as it came.

"Someone got their Valentine hooked already," mocked Derek as he noticed the present on your desk. "Who’s Cupid’s victim?"

"No one," you replied before reading the note. "Their from Alex, that guy I dated."

"Why is your ex boyfriend sending you flowers?" Asked Spencer as you tossed them in the bin before opening the box of chocolates.

"Because I’m unforgettable," you answered quickly before letting yourself fall on your chair.

Derek scoffed. "Yeah, right."

"It’s true!" You argued. "I date them for two weeks, give them the best sex they’ve ever had, get them hooked and then, before I catch feelings, I remember I have the busiest and most tiring job that exists and can’t date them. So... they stay in love with me knowing... I’ll never have time for them."

"Everything you just said makes me think that you have commitment issues," snapped back Spencer and you rolled your eyes before sticking out your tongue. "How matured," he mouthed, mocking you.

You turned to look at Derek. "I need to date a guy I can see every day without it affecting my work."

"So... date someone from work," offered Derek before walking away.

You thought about it for a sec before scoffing. "That’s a terrible idea."

"Actually, most successful couples—"

But you stopped him. "Don’t «actually» me, Reid, I’m not interested in your facts."

"I was just going to say... dating people that you work with or that have the same career as you increases your chances of a successful relationship. You share with someone that understands what you do. Simple logic."

You glanced over him. "So, you’re suggesting I should date someone from work?"

Spencer stood up from his desk with files in hand. "I’m saying... the statistics would be in your favor if you decide to do so."

And with that, the young genius left, leaving you with a lot of doubts.

• • •

The team and you were staying at a hotel that night for the new case they were involved in. You were quick to get in your room and toss your suitcase on the side of the bed before jumping on it, closing your eyes.

You were tired, you wanted to sleep, you wanted to rest so you could scream at Spencer the next day with the biggest amount of energy possible.

But your mission was interrupted by a knock on three door.

"Coming!" You yelled before opening the door of your room, looking at Reid standing there. "You got the wrong room. This isn’t the entrance to Dorkland."

"Very funny," he said sarcastically. "I just... About the whole... two bullets, Hitler, Napoleon... I... I didn’t mean it."

"What?" You asked in confusion. Was he apologizing for a joke?

"I wanted to make sure you knew that I didn’t mean it, that’s it, don’t read much into it."

"Yeah but why are you making sure I know you didn’t mean it? You’ve never done that before."

He exhaled. "I feel like... back at the office, we had a conversation when we didn’t insult each other hurtfully. It’s the first time we’ve had one and I kinda enjoyed it... don’t make fun of that."

You smiled. "Spencer... just because we don’t agree in work method doesn’t mean we have to hate each other till death, you know? I think... discussing our points of view could actually makes us better profilers if we stop degrading the other. Don’t you think?"

"Yeah, you may be right," he whispered. "Can I come in?"

"Why?" You asked in confusion.

"I studied more about relationships between coworkers and I want to talk to you about the upsides and downsides about dating between—"

But you interrupted him. "Spencer, is there any other reason besides apologizing that you came to my room?" But he shook his head. "Okay... let’s pretend I believe you."

But you didn’t believe him. You didn’t believe him at all.

Spencer was hiding something.

• • •

After a week of you and Spencer hanging out a bit more, you started realizing he wasn’t so bad after all. That all of that hating turned out to be more about your work rather than each other.

You realized you worked better together rather than apart, and stopped complaining every time Hotch assigned you with each other. That stopped entertaining the team.

But it was at Rossi’s game night when it changed for the first time.

When you say Reid as more than a colleague, or even a friend.

As something else.

By the way he would make Emily blow on his hands when he had the dices in between them before tossing them on the board with excitement, or when he knew the answer to each and every question, because he had memorized the entire game. By the way he would get excited every time he had something right, and angry every time the other team got something correct.

You liked Spencer Reid.

It took you long to figure out.

The next day, you approached his desk in a hurry, holding that study about relationships between coworkers between your arm and waist.

You were ready to date Reid.

[tessisawriter]

Invisible String, Part 1 (Colton Parayko)

Request: Can you write an imagine where the reader is John Krasinski’s [niece] but she’s dating Colton Parayko and like she has to breaks the news and John acts mad or something and scares them but then he says he’s joking and he’s fine with it? Thanks

***NOTE***: I changed some details in the last scene b/c I moved the timeline up from October 7 to September 14.

A/N: I’m back! The protagonist is an OC but I decided to call her Y/N instead of giving her an actual name b/c John Krasinski has nieces and/or nephews irl. I already planned the entire plot but idk whether the series will be 2 or 3 parts—I’ll post an update when I know more. This series takes place from March 2018 to June 2019 and is loosely based on Taylor Swift’s “Invisible String.” Here is the playlist.

Warnings: Six swear words, rough breakup, alcohol, loneliness & homesickness

Word Count: 3.4k

March 21, 2018

You were impervious to the mix of pitying and derisive glances from passersby as you sat on the curb. You knew you looked like a cliché, crying in front of a restaurant because your boyfriend broke up with you on your 22nd birthday, but you didn’t care. One question gnawed at you: how had six words upended your seemingly perfect day and relationship?

Your brain was buzzing with activity, wondering if Max had given you any clues that something was amiss. This morning, you woke up in his Cambridge apartment to him singing “Happy Birthday” while kneeling at the side of the bed. As soon as Max finished singing, he kissed you before grabbing his backpack and hurrying out of the room. That didn’t mean anything, though: Max was one of the only seniors to have the misfortune of taking all morning classes because his major was Theater, Dance, and Media. He was also (as usual) running late.

The rest of the day unfolded like any other Wednesday as you followed your schedule of lounging in bed, studying for an hour, going to the sandwich shop across the street for lunch, and heading to campus at 1PM for your classes. Afterwards, you went back to the apartment to find Max waiting there, already dressed for dinner. You quickly showered, curled your long (Y/HC) hair, and changed into a dark green dress and black booties before taking his hand and going to an Italian restaurant in Boston’s North End.

There were no warning signs at dinner, either. In fact, everything was perfect until you were waiting for the check and Max said with a detached look in his eyes, “I think we should break up.”

You didn’t want to relive what happened next, but the images of you acting like Elle Woods when Warner broke up with her in Legally Blonde popped into your head unbidden. You closed your eyes in humiliation and shame as you remembered Max, the man you dated for three years, abandoning you at the table and fleeing the restaurant. The other customers stared at you, some sympathetic, others scandalized, and the rest in pure shock.

You snapped out of the flashback when you felt a large hand rest on your shoulder. You whipped your head around to find a young man with blonde hair and black rimmed glasses squatting next to you on the curb.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

The panic faded as you took in the man’s features. He was definitely in his 20s, probably a few years older than you, and his blue eyes were filled with concern. Something about that concern, though, made you snap.

“Do I look like I’m okay? I mean, come on, look at me!” you demanded while pointing at your face, which you (correctly) assumed had giant black streaks of mascara on it.

You fully expected the man to walk away and leave you be, but he sat down on the curb instead and said, “My bad, that was a stupid question. I’ve got some tissues if you want them?”

That made your attitude soften. He was only trying to help, so you nodded and he handed you a pack of tissues from his pocket. You smiled at him, took the tissues, and wiped your eyes and face. As soon as you were satisfied that they were clean, you broke the silence. “Thank you…?”

“Colton, and it’s no problem. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” You held out your hand for him to shake, which he did. After a pause, you asked: “Why did you stop? Surely you have somewhere better to be tonight.”

He chuckled, and the sound of it made your heart flutter. “I was just heading back to my hotel when I saw you, and I figured I’d stop and make sure you get home safe. That is, assuming you live here?”

“Yeah, I live in Cambridge.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you realized they were no longer true, so you amended your statement. “Well, I lived in Cambridge until about 15 minutes ago when my now ex-boyfriend dumped me. On my fucking birthday.”

“Shit, that sucks. I’m really sorry.” He paused before adding, “I’m assuming he isn’t here.”

“Nope. He hightailed it out of the restaurant as soon as he got his credit card back.”

Colton shook his head. “What a jackass.”

“I know, right? I wasted three whole years with someone who not only broke up with me in a very public setting on my birthday, but also couldn’t be bothered to ask where I would go! He probably assumed I’d go to my parents’ house, but still.”

“Your parents live here?” Colton asked as he fished his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it.

“Yeah, right by Boston Common, why?”

“I’ll get an Uber and drop you off before going back to the hotel.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that,” you protested while going through your bag for your phone. “We just met! I’ll pay.”

“Nonsense. You’ve been through a lot tonight. Let me take care of it.”

You stared into Colton’s eyes and realized he wasn’t going to back down. It took everything in you to suppress your pride, thank him, and provide the address. Colton typed it into his phone, waited for a moment, and said, “The closest one is around the block.”

“That’s good.” Your burst of energy dissipated as quickly as it came, and you fell silent. From the corner of your eye, you saw Colton open his mouth as if to say something before the headlights of a car momentarily blinded you.

“That’s the Uber.” Colton stood up and offered his hand, and you took it. You couldn’t help but notice how well they fit together as he pulled you up and off the curb, but after regaining your balance, something else grabbed your attention: his height.

“Gee, how tall are you? No one’s ever made me feel like a dwarf before,” you joked as he led you to the car, your hands still intertwined.

He chuckled and opened the door for you. You let go of his hand and slid into the car. After Colton slid in next to you and shut the door, he replied, “I’m 6’6” and no one’s ever made me feel like I’m not a giant before. You’re what, 5’10”?”

“6 feet, actually,” you corrected him. “So, where are you from, Colton?”

“St. Albert; it’s just outside Edmonton in Canada, but I’ve been in the States for a while. I went to the University of Alaska in Fairbanks before moving to, uh, St. Louis.”

You noticed Colton’s hesitancy and the fact that he lowered his voice when saying “St. Louis,” and you were about to ask why when you thought better of it. You were protective of your privacy, too, especially whenever people commented about how funny it was that you shared the same last name as John Krasinski. It wasn’t a coincidence—he was your uncle, and the two of you were extremely close—but you went along with it and never corrected them because it wasn’t their business. So, you let it go. “And what brings you to Boston?”

“Work,” he said before changing the subject. “What do you do? Are you still in school or—”

“I’m a senior at Harvard,” you cut him off. You generally didn’t drop the “H-bomb,” as you and your friends called it, with people you didn’t know well, but this was a special case. Colton just confirmed he was hiding something, and after looking at him in better lighting, his face seemed familiar, which weirded you out. You had to get back on equal footing, and the H-bomb almost always unsettled people.

“Wow, you must be really smart,” Colton said, seeming impressed but unphased. You couldn’t help yourself from raising an eyebrow as he asked, “What’s your major?”

“Government. What was yours?”

“Business administration.”

“Ah.” You fell silent again, this time on purpose, as you racked your brain for where you might have crossed paths with Colton. He wasn’t from Boston, not even close, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d seen him before, and recently.

Colton didn’t let you ruminate for long before reviving the conversation. “What do you want to do when you graduate?”

“I’ll be a lawyer one day, but I have to be a paralegal first. I’m looking for jobs right now.”

Before Colton could reply, the car came to a stop. You looked out the window and saw your parents’ townhouse and your childhood home.Your time in the car had flown by, a sensation you rarely, if ever, experienced. And there was something between you and Colton, a connection you couldn’t quite describe, that made you want to spend more time with him. But your time was up. “This is me. It was nice to meet you, Colton, and thanks again for the ride—I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem,” he replied. “I’m glad I found you.”

You were overwhelmed by an intense desire to ask for his number. If only he lived in Boston or somewhere in the Northeast. But he lived in St. Louis, so you moved to open the door, only to feel Colton’s hand wrap around yours and hear him say: “Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You turned around and locked eyes with him. It was like being in a trance, and your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

It felt like years, but it was more like a few moments before Colton let go of your hand. “Good luck with the search. I’m sure you’ll find a good job.”

You wanted to let out a sigh of disappointment, but you just said, “Thanks,” and smiled at him before getting out of the car.

***************

The smell of bacon finally lured you out of your bed at noon the next day.

It had been a rough night. The reality of the breakup hit you like a ton of bricks when you rang the doorbell and all but collapsed in your mom’s arms when she answered the door. She brought you over to the couch, where your dad was waiting anxiously. As soon as you sat down, you grabbed your mom and cried for an hour straight as she held you and stroked your hair. You knew Max wasn’t worth your tears, but it had more to do with you. Despite his major, he wasn’t that good of an actor, and yet, he fooled you into thinking he could be your person. You took immense pride in your instincts, but they failed you with Max. How could you have possibly fallen in love with such a heartless person? More terrifying, would you have ended up marrying him a few years down the road if he hadn’t broken up with you?

You didn’t know the answer to either question, so you stopped crying and began venting about how the breakup went down. Your dad almost hit the ceiling after hearing that Max left you at the restaurant, and you had to talk him out of driving to Cambridge to “give that little shit a piece of my mind!” That wasn’t to say you weren’t thinking about revenge, but your dad potentially getting arrested was not helpful. After that, you started crying again, only this time out of frustration, and didn’t stop until you practically passed out on the couch. The last thing you remembered was your parents guiding you up the stairs to your bed.

Thankfully, you had no classes on Thursdays, so you were able to sleep in and be, if nothing else, well-rested. Your stomach rumbled when you smelled the bacon, so you got out of bed and made your way down the stairs to the kitchen, where your parents were sitting at the table and watching the television.

“Ugh, why are you watching the news?” you said as a way of greeting while making a beeline for the bacon.

“Good morning to you, too, sweetheart,” your dad replied. “I’m waiting for the sports report. I missed the game last night and Uncle John wouldn’t tell me the score. He said he’s sorry about, I quote, ‘the scumbag’ and he’ll call you tonight.”

“God, I miss him. And you,” you addressed your mom as you shoveled a load of bacon onto your plate, “are the best.”

“See, honey? I knew bacon would cheer her up,” she said to your dad.

“I didn’t doubt it. Y/N, we have to figure out a time to get your stuff from that piece of shit’s apartment. I’m not letting you go by yourself, but do you want to let him know ahead of time or just show up?”

“Who did the B’s play?” you sat down at the table and changed the subject immediately. You didn’t care about sports, but your dad and Uncle John were major Bruins fans and the mere mention of Max gave you a headache.

“The Blues.”

“Where do they play again?” you asked as you ate your bacon. It had to be a team from the Western Conference, but the only teams you knew there were the Canucks and Blackhawks because they were on your dad’s shit list.

“St. Louis.”

You almost choked on your food. “What?”

“St. Louis, sweetie. You know, the Gateway Arch—”

“Yeah, I know, Mom,” you recovered. “That’s the team Jenna likes, right, Dad?”

“Yes. Shh, here it is!” He didn’t need to tell you twice; you doubted Colton was a professional hockey player, but your curiosity won out as you intently watched the television.

The score flashed on the screen—an OT loss for the Bruins—and your dad groaned. “Ugh, I’ve got to turn this garbage off.”

And suddenly, a few Blues players, including one that looked awfully similar to Colton (albeit without glasses), flashed onto the screen. You didn’t get a good enough look at him to be sure, though, because your dad changed the channel. You let out a noise of frustration.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” your mom asked, and your dad looked like he had the same question when he turned away from the television.

“I’ll text the scumbag and tell him I’m coming this afternoon, if that’s okay with you, Dad,” you said. “I want to get it over with and besides, I need my laptop and textbooks.”

“That’s perfect, sweetheart. The office doesn’t need me today, anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back; my phone’s upstairs,” you called out behind you as you raced back up the stairs. You did not want to text Max, but it was better than telling your dad that the man he praised for making sure you got home last night was potentially part of the team responsible for his beloved Bruins’ loss.

You locked your bedroom door and grabbed your phone to pull up Google and the St. Louis Blues roster. Part of you thought there was no way a professional hockey player actually cared enough to bring you home, but the Blues being in town and one of its members resembling Colton were too many coincidences for your liking. You tapped your foot impatiently as the phone loaded the roster, and you scrolled through the list until you found a name of interest.

“C. Parayko, 55, R, 6’6’’…”

It cut off after that, so you scrolled sideways to see the other information. It left you without a shadow of doubt, but you clicked on the name anyway to view a picture. Colton’s headshot and full first name stared back at you as if they were looking into your soul.

It really was him. You had to have seen him on the little television at the sandwich shop’s register yesterday.

But what did this information mean for you, really, besides discovering his identity? It was nice to know his full name because it confirmed that he was a real person instead of a delusion your reeling mind made up, but it didn’t change one important fact: you lived in Boston and he lived in St. Louis. Barring a radical change in one of your lives, which you didn’t see happening, that was the reality of the situation. It was time to stop dreaming and confront your immediate future.

You pulled up Max’s number and began composing the text which, after several drafts, read: “I’ll be at the apartment today from 3 to 5. My dad’s coming with me, so make yourself scarce. I want my shit back.”

***************

6 months later: September 14, 2018

You were miserable only two weeks after relocating to St. Louis.

It was funny how one phone call could completely change someone’s life. In your case, said phone call involved an extremely attractive job offer with a clear path for advancement within one year. The offers you had received from legal firms in Boston, New York, D.C., and Philadelphia were underwhelming, to say the least, and you were only a week away from graduation. You had already endured a lot of change this year, so why not one more?

After nearly giving your parents a heart attack but ultimately receiving their blessing, you accepted the offer and moved to St. Louis on September 1st. Uncle John had been especially supportive, enlisting Jenna (known by the rest of the world as Pam from The Office) to fly out from L.A. and show you around the city last week. She made sure you knew the ins and outs of the city, which you really appreciated. You also loved your job. You were doing important work every day, and your boss was already hinting at giving you the promotion you wanted. 

So, why were you unhappy? It was your social life, or rather, lack of one. You didn’t know anyone in St. Louis, and while your coworkers weren’t mean, they didn’t make you feel welcome, either.

That seemed to have changed earlier today when two of your desk neighbors who were around your age, Harper and Ellie, invited you out for drinks after work. You couldn’t have been happier. You went home after work, did your hair and makeup, put on your favorite royal blue mini dress, and met them at the dive bar you recommended. You were so excited on the way over that you could barely sit still; maybe you’d make friends with these girls and finally feel like you fit in in this city.

Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Harper and Ellie abandoned you within less than five minutes after two guys came over and asked them to dance. You were now sitting at the bar alone, nursing a cocktail and despairing over your situation.

It was times like these when you thought about Colton. It had been six months since you’d met him in Boston, and you didn’t want to risk looking like a lunatic by slipping into his DMs on Instagram, but you were getting desperate. It was bad enough that being from the Northeast made you stick out like a sore thumb, but the loneliness was eating you alive, and the combination made you feel unmoored. Maybe a familiar and friendly face could change that.

As if God had answered your prayers, you heard a commotion near the entrance. You swiveled your stool in that direction and saw a group of tall, good-looking men in their 20s entering the bar. The tallest one had blonde hair and black rimmed glasses.

It was Colton.

Your brain screamed at you to look away and approach him after he settled in, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he laughed at something one of his friends said. It was as if he felt your stare because he suddenly looked in your direction and appeared to gasp.

It was only then that you turned away and faced the bar, drinking the rest of your cocktail in a few gulps. You were so embarrassed; he probably thought you were a stalker or something. You were about to flag down the bartender for another drink when you felt that familiar large hand rest on your shoulder.

You turned your head and found Colton staring at you, his blue eyes full of incredulity and…happiness?

“Y/N. It’s really you,” he breathed.

[joanquill]

Unexpected Family Reunion

You were Lord Moriarty's lover and the mother to his eldest son, Albert. Due to your poor status, you were thrown out and were only known as a rumor among the nobles. With Lord Moriarty now married with another son, you can imagine the surprise to see him on your doorstep one random night.

"...What do you want?" you asked, venom spitting out of every word as James Moriarty stood on your doorstep.

He winced at your question, pulling his cloak closer as he hid his identity from the public while you leaned on the doorframe, an unamused look on your face.

"I... I need your help..."

"For what?"

"I... We adopted two kids from the orphanage, and we need a caretaker..."

"And you thought your ex-lover would be the best choice?" you questioned, your brow slightly twitching as he grumbled.

"It wasn't my choice to leave you, (Y/N),"

"And it certainly wasn't your choice to fight for me either," you countered, making him take a step back.

"You denied everything we had and tossed me aside to marry some noblewoman. So, excuse me if you're not warmly welcomed here," you sighed, grabbing the door and closing it.

"Wait!" James shouted as he grabbed the door, making you stop.

"Please... My wife doesn't know what you look like, and you'll get to see Albert...!"

Your eyes widened at his offer. Your hold on the door tightened as you bit your lip.

"...He doesn't even know I'm his real mother..."

"But you'll be able to see him..."

You scowled as you let go of the door, making James fall to the floor.

You paced around the floor, thinking as you glanced over to James.

"...All right, Moriarty, you got a deal," you squatted down, holding your hand out to him.

"But only because of Albert and the kids,"

You let out a sharp gasp as you looked at the manor, seeing how it changed over the years while Simon was waiting at the entrance.

"...I see that she's back..."

"Good to see you too, Simon," you replied, still looking around as you walked inside.

"You do know that you can't frolic around whenever you like,"

"Yeah, I know... The missus might catch on... Where are the kids?" you asked, ignoring his warning as Simon sighed.

"One of them is--"

A crash could be heard, catching your attention as you followed the sound.

You found yourself in the kitchen. A small boy with blond hair is on the floor with broken glass around him.

"Are you okay!?" you asked, quickly lifting him up and putting him beside you, checking his hands.

"You didn't get cut, did you?" you asked, looking up to his scarlet eyes as he shook his head.

"You imbecile! You dropped one of the antiques!" Simon shouted, raising his hand to hit the boy, but you grabbed his wrist.

"Hey!" you shouted, pushing him back.

"He's just a child! And everyone makes mistakes!" you defended, hugging the boy tightly.

Hearing the commotion, Albert and another child with blond hair and red eyes walked up to the kitchen doors, unsure if they should intervene.

"What he broke costs more than his life!"

"Then why did you make him clean it!?" you asked, lifting the boy up in your arms.

"This is payback for the surgery we--" Your eyes widened in shock.

"--He was in surgery. AND YOU'RE MAKING HIM DO CHORES RATHER THAN RESTING!? " you asked in disbelief as you covered the child's ears, shocking everyone in the kitchen.

"He owes--"

"--Owes you nothing! Last time I checked, the Moriarty paid for it as a charity act, meaning no payback needed,"

You huffed, going by the kitchen entrance and dropping off the child, not noticing Albert and the other orphan.

"I'll clean this up and explain to the Moriartys, so go sulk somewhere in the corner," you shooed Simon, grabbing a broom as you started to clean.

Simon could only scoff and storm out, grumbling to himself.

You let out a sigh of relief as you took out the last glass shards.

You dusted your hands as realization struck.

'Crap...! I forgot to introduce myself to the kids...!'  you thought as you hurried went outside, seeing three children by the door.

"O-Oh! Hello! I almost didn't see you there," you warmly greeted, crouching down to their height.

"I'm (Y/N) (L/N), the new caretaker,"

You saw the boy from before, hiding behind another one with blond hair and red eyes, concluding that they were the two orphans.

Your eyes widened when you saw Albert, seeing some of your physical features on him.

"M-Master Albert, I didn't see you there," you gave him a shaky smile as he smiled back.

"No worries, we just heard a commotion in the kitchen and saw you with Simon,"

You awkwardly laughed as you looked back in the kitchen, putting the pieces together that they saw everything.

"We... have different opinions, as you could tell," you vaguely explained, remembering the arguments you two had even before.

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to yell," you apologetically smiled as you glanced over at the boy from before.

The boy shook his head, "I-It's okay... Thank you for defending me..." he mumbled, making you smile.

"Since you're the one with the surgery, I assume you're Louis?" you asked, making him shyly nod.

You smiled at him politely as your eyes drifted to the brother,

"Then you must be--"

"--(Y/N)!" Simon called out, making you internally sigh.

You stood up and apologetically smiled at the kids before turning to see Simon with James and his wife.

"I assume she is a new help?" Mrs. Moriarty whispered to James, who was sweating under his suit.

You internally rolled your eyes as you kept a polite demeanor.

"It's an honor to finally meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Moriarty," you politely greeted with a bow.

"I heard that you broke something irreplaceable on your first day?" Mrs. Moriarty asked, taking a step forward to you.

"Yes... It was an honest mistake, My Lady," you admitted, curtly bowing.

Mrs. Moriarty furrowed her brows as she raised her hand, only to be stopped by James.

"D-Dear!?" Mrs. Moriarty called out in shock as Simon looked at him with wide eyes.

"...I'll let this one go for now since it's her first day," he muttered, looking over to you as he let go and walked off.

"B-But Dear!" Mrs. Moriarty called out as Simon followed hesitantly.

You let out a sigh as you looked back at the three children, who were just as surprised.

"I have never seen Father stop Mother from lashing out," Albert commented, looking up to you.

You let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of your head.

"Well... it's a complicated adult thing... You don't need to worry about it,"

Part 2 here!