#Tell me Charles didn’t walk by and hear that and proceed to walk in

[breeezytoast]

John: I dare you to kiss the next person who enters the room

Arthur: Hell no. I’m not kissing any of you

*Charles walks in*

Arthur: Fine, I’ll do it. Rules are rules you know?

[rhey-007]

The Family Leclerc

Charles Leclerc x reader x Pierre Gasly

Summary: Agreeing to do Charles a favor turns into hell when you meet his family for the first time and proceed to spend Christmas with them as his fake girlfriend.

(Based on "The Family Stone")

A/N: It's a LONG one just so y'know. I recently saw "The Family Stone" for the first time (LOVED IT, you have to watch it, I think I cried like 5 times lol) and an idea for this fic just randomly popped up in my brain shortly after. I've been writing this for past 2 weeks and finished it just yesterday. I hope you'll like it :)) I also wish everyone happy Christmas or whatever you're celebrating! 🎄🎉

Warnings/Tags: female reader, vegetarian reader, Atheist reader, toxic family, orphan reader - basically reader is op 😅, family fluff, toxic Pascale, mentions of sex

Wordcount: 9465

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You never thought you’d ever find yourself pretending to be Charles' girlfriend. Yet there you were, getting out of his car seeing his whole family curiously looking at you through the window. You’ve known the Monegasque for a few years already and befriended him almost immediately but never met his family. That’s why you were the first person who came to his mind when his mother mentioned bringing a girl over for Christmas. His family was tormenting him about a partner for too long, so to make them calm down he asked you for this favor, even offering you money which you didn’t accept.

The house Charles rented in Austria was quite big, big enough to accommodate the 9 of you. It was made out of wood, with a forest near by and a great view at the mountains. It literally took your breath away. Although you felt a little uneasy feeling six pairs of eyes as the two of you made your way to the door.

“Don’t let them walk over you... They might be a little... Possessive and overprotective of me...”

The man explained ringing the doorbell and soothing your back with a smile. You had to admit you felt a little nervous. Heck REALLY nervous. You've heard so many things about them on your way there, some positive and some negative. Well... Mostly negative, but just because Charles wanted you to get ready for the chaos.

“Charlie!”

His mother appeared in the door a few seconds after, hugging her precious baby tightly and shooting you a glare.

“Hi mom, this is Y/N. I told you she’ll join us”

Charles disclosed before you greeted his mother with a firm handshake. You walked inside, the man instantly helping you with your coat, then introduced you to the rest.

“Y/N those are my brothers Lorenzo and Arthur. This beauty is Carla, Arthur’s one and only. And last but not least - Carlos and his girlfriend Rebecca, family close friends. Guys this is Y/N”

You smiled cutely at the 5 and hugged them gently before Charles and Arthur left to get your suitcases and Carla showed you the room you would stay in.

“Is everything alright?”

The girl asked soon, noticing you playing with your fingers uneasily. You shook your head with a soft smile. You couldn’t tell her you expected to sleep in a different room than Charles, could you? You both would feel uncomfortable as you were just friends in reality, but maybe in this skit you had to commit to the role a little bit more.

In meanwhile Arthur initiated a conversation with his older brother about you, who didn’t really like it.

“Really? This is her?”

The younger one asked taking out your bag from the trunk.

“What do you mean?”

Charles huffed slowly getting angry. From his whole family Arthur always seemed the most tolerant, but what he was about to hear changed Charles’ opinion completely.

“Come on man! Can’t you see it?! She’s just a bimbo falling for you money!”

“What did you just say?”

The older growled gripping Arthur’s collar and pulling close to himself. The vain on his forehead was about to pop and his face was all red as his gaze pierced through his brother. No one could say such gross things about you, especially not in his presence.

“Don’t you dare disrespect her like that”

He hissed letting his brother go and walking back inside with your bag. After they brought them upstairs, Charles dismissed Carla and Arthur before closing the door and sighing heavily.

“Charles?...”

You said quietly, sitting on his bed and playing with the hem of your beige golf sweater. He turned around to you and sat down beside. His hand rested on your thigh soothing it gently while he looked at you with an asking expression.

“So uh... I-I was hoping for a room for my own... I-I don’t know like a guest room or something... If that’s not a problem of course...”

Bitting your lip softly you looked down and felt the man’s hand stop. Was he disappointed? Yes. Did he expect that? Also yes. He exhaled gripping your limb.

“I can sleep on the floor, it’s not a pro-”

“What! No! It’s your room. I should be the one sleeping on the floor if there’s no free one! ”

You cut him off and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I can ask mom. I’m sure we’ll find something free. Now come on, let’s go eat something”

You followed the man downstairs to the dining room where Pascale and Rebecca set the table. When you eagerly offered your help the older woman completely ignored you, she didn’t even know you well enough to draw conclusions but apparently she already drew them on the porch. You wondered why though. Were you dressed improperly? If you could even call a beige sweater and black jeans an improper outfit... Maybe it was your makeup that alienated her from you. But you only wore mascara, some soft blush and lip oil...

Maybe it was Charles. Too perfect to have and don’t have a second half. Or maybe it was just Pascale hoping he would bring home someone she knew, someone she hooked him up with. You had no idea but had to know to improve your image in the older woman’s eyes and play the role of her child’s girlfriend better.

Once the table was ready, everyone sat down and said a brief pray – even though you weren’t Chistian you respected their beliefs and joined in the little act. By the time everyone started to eat you noticed your portion was just the same as everyone else’s – meatballs in tomato sauce with delicious puree and caesar salad - although you made sure Charles informed his mother you were vegetarian. You decided not to inform her by the dinner table, instead wanting to talk about it later in the kitchen alone but the blonde initiated the conversation herself when she noticed you pushing the meat aside.

“Is something wrong?”

She asked to which you didn’t respond at first, too occupied by staring at the plate. Charles’ poke got you out of trance and made look at his mother.

“Oh! Uh... N-No, everything’s alright. Why?”

“You didn’t touch the meatballs...”

The woman furrowed her eyebrows while you shrunk in your seat.

“Well uh... I-I don’t eat meat-”

Pascale burst out laughing not letting you finish your sentence, her kids following with faint chuckles, except of Charles.

“Mom, I told you million times...”

“But I didn’t thought you were serious! That’s just ridiculous! How can you live without eating meat? No wonder you look so weak”

You looked back down at your plate, not wanting to argue with her. Her words and laugh hurt you a tad, but Charles warned you she might be critical.

“Look at me when I talk to you-”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you miss but that’s who I am and you’re not gonna change that. I’m sure the meat is tasty, just as the rest, but I won’t eat it nonetheless”

You snaped not being able to hold yourself back anymore. No woman should disrespect another woman. Your words brought a smile to Charles’ lips, he was proud of you for stepping up for yourself as you never really did that, always being a shy mouse.

“I'm also not Christian but respect your beliefs and joined in your pray. So it would only be fair if you respected my eating habits- Or what I should rather call eating disorder because I am in fact deathly allergic to meat”

Pascale scoffed as if she was offended by your statement.

“That's an absurd-“

“Mom can we talk? “

Charles cut in, pointing his head towards the kitchen as he stood up. The woman rolled her eyes and followed after her son.

“Who the hell did you brought!? A vegetarian. Not a Christian. Tell me she's also a man! Or maybe she is a widow, huh? Oh Charlie, Charlie... You could do way better... “

Pascale grabbed Charles’ arms and was about to shook him when he shrugged her hands off and took a step back.

“Don't. Don't touch me. I told you she's a vegetarian. I told you so many times but of course you didn't listen. Why do you have such a problem!? You don't even know her yet! You always told me you'll respect whoever I bring home, even a man, yet you deny your words now!”

“I just want the best for my little boy... “

“I'm not your little boy anymore! I'm a grown ass man and I'll date whoever I want. Either you like them or not. So deal with it! “

Charles hissed before leaving the kitchen and joining you back in the dining room. He huffed angrily, flopping down beside you and continuing to eat without a word. An uncomfortable silence fell since he left that lasted until the end of the meal.

You felt responsible for ruining the moods of Leclerc's, especially their mother, but what else were you supposed to do? You couldn’t let anyone disrespect you like that and laugh into your face for your beliefs. After the dinner you locked yourself up in Charles' room.

“Well... That went great... “

You sighed flopping down onto his bed and whining loudly.

“Yeah... Amazing... “

The Monegasque nodded sitting down beside you.

“I'm sorry... I should have said I'm just not hungry. Maybe she would’ve let it go earlier then”

You said turning to your side and looking up at him. Smiling down at you, he brushed your hair away from your face and gazed a little too long before responding.

“It's okay... She would have to find out sooner or later... I'm sorry too. Didn’t expect she would be so possessive already... “

Charles layed down and turned his head to you, his hand grabbing yours and squeezing it gently. If he knew his mother would be THAT critical he wouldn’t have taken you with him. He cared for you too much to want to see you hurt, but his mom was too impossible to foresee even for him to predict that. He just wished that after that week you would still like to be friends with him... Maybe even more if the situation settles down and everyone calms down.

“Go take a shower and relax a little... I'll go find some mattress and set everything up... It'll be better for you to stay here. We don’t want another fight do we? “

You chuckled a little shaking your head and got up. Although you still preffered to sleep in another room, you didn’t want another quarrel with Pascale.

“This is gonna be an interesting week... “

You said before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts. How was he going to convince his family and friends to like you, when the head of his family already hated you? He had no idea but had to come up with something soon, or else the Christmas would be ruined.

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Next day an excited and loud array of voices woke you up. You grumbled turning your back to the door and looking down at the floor where Charles previously slept. The mattress he layed on now cold with sheets neatly displayed on top, which meant he must have left quite a long time ago. You got up hearing the man in question call you and rubbed your eyes softly while leaving the room. Stumbling down the stairs your eyes felt heavy and with one too long blink you found yourself falling down, someone catching you quickly before you hit the floor.

“Are you okay?”

A male voice said, hot breath fanning your face and a smell of fresh mint, cedarwood and cinnamon hit your nostrils. When you opened your eyes you noticed it wasn’t Charles who caught you, the Monegasque standing beside you and the stranger holding your arm firmly.

“I-I’m okay... I just woke up and uh... I-I'm sorry...”

You mumbled pulling away from the handsome man that held you, now able to take a better look at him. He was almost as tall as Charles, had blue hipnotizing eyes, full pink lips and a gorgeous smile.

“Y/N this is Pierre, another friend of the family”

Charles introduced you to one another as you shook your hands. You had to admit the man was really handsome, even more than your ‘boyfriend’, making your eyes unable to tear away from him. Pierre smirked noticing you stare at which you blushed softly and looked away sheepishly. If he had to be honest, if not Charles he would’ve try to pick you up right there and then. You were a really beautiful gal, your ginger hair looked so smooth the only thing he wanted was to play with them the whole day, your green eyes shined like if you had stars in them and the soft freckles across your face complimented them so well.

“Look who woke up... Our sleeping beauty...”

Pascale scoffed seeing the three of you walk into the kitchen.

“Welcome Pierre”

She cooed giving the man a tight hug and a kiss to his cheek. You figured he was like a son to her, actually her favourite child as you later found out.

“Long time no see ma. How have you been? You happy with Charlie’s new girlfriend?”

He teased looking at you at which you just rolled your eyes pouring yourself a cup of warm coffee and ignoring the older woman’s response.

“Oh her? Please... He could’ve done waaay better!”

“What, why? Y/N’s a really beautiful girl and I bet she’s smart too”

The French tried to defend you but it was useless.

“She’s vegetarian. Says she’s deathly allergic to meat but I feel like that’s just a lie... And she’s not Christian. Sooner or later she’ll make my little boy convert!”

She whispered to Pierre, loud enough for you to hear.

“That’s it? Oh good thing she’s not a man!”

He joked with a loud laugh before stepping away and joining everyone by the table. You enjoyed your dark liquid sitting by Charles, his arm wrapped around your waist squeezing it from time to time as he conversed with his siblings, Carlos and Pierre. You observed the group carefully, sometimes looking at Pascale.

From what you’ve caught Carlos and Rebecca seemed the most unproblematic, which didn’t mean they didn’t talk about you behind your back, Lorenzo was the quiet one, not really joining in the conversation prefering to read his book and eat in peace, while Pierre, Charles and Arthur were the triplets of chaos with Carla and Pascale being their tamers.

You didn’t fit in with that family at all, always feeling their judging stares on yourself especially with Charles glued to your side. But there was one gaze except of his that felt different. Pierre didn’t judge your every step, his eyes were full of either admiration or sympathy whenever you looked at him, always ready to help if you needed it.

Leclerc also noticed his best friend’s weird interest in you but as much as you didn’t care he did. He felt jealous seeing him watch you with heartful eyes, touch you whenever he had a chance, constantly talk to you, and you only knew each other for a day! Charles’ gut wrenched at those moments, wanting to tear the man apart.

But why did he care so much? You were just friends after all. But he didn’t consider you just a friend. You were more, his whole world, a person he couldn’t live without. He knew that since you’ve met, trying to find a perfect moment to confess his feelings, wanting to do this on Christmas Eve.

That was also another reason why he asked you to pretend his girlfriend in front of his family. But with Pierre on his way... It would be hard. Especially if you felt too comfortable with the French man and told him the truth, then he wouldn’t hold back anymore and wrap you around his finger immediately and Charles couldn’t let that happen.

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After yet another unpleasant dinner you left to pick a Christmas tree and finish up buying presents. It was a little tradition of Leclerc’s to pick the tree all together and you felt glad they wanted you to join them, at least Charles and Pierre did. You strode through the main square holding Charles’ hand and admiring the Christmas market.

Pierre walked by your other side, getting envious every time the Monegasque pressed a kiss to either part of your body or pulled you slightly away from him. He wished he could be the one to bring you to that beautiful place on a date, to have you all for himself, for you to be his... But you weren’t and instead Pierre had to pretend he was happy for you and his best friend and it was really hard at times.

“Come on kids! Faster! The queue is already forming!”

Pascale shouted from a few meters away as she turned around and saw your group getting distracted by the various stalls.

“Queue for what?”

You’ve asked the boys, confusion clearly painted on your face.

“Santa”

They responded in unison rushing you over to the rest.

“Santa? Aren’t you too old?”

“Naaah. We’re gonna get a family picture with him. It’s another of our traditions”

Pierre cleared out with a huge smile. As you waited the two men told you about and showed you every picture from previous years, making fun of little Arthur always crying sitting on Santa’s lap.

Tears slowly started to fill your eyes at the cute stories, but you’ve managed to blink them away quickly so neither men noticed them. You wished you could’ve had such a childhood, full of fun, family and love but you guessed it wasn’t meant to be. At least now you could have some fun, even though the majority of the family hated you.

When your turn came you positioned yourself freely, you stood on the right in front of the boys almost right next to Santa, but Pascale felt like something was wrong and started to rearrange everyone. Eventually Carlos, Rebecca and Lorenzo landed on the left, Arthur and Carla sat on the old man’s laps – just as always, she took your place in front of her two favourites and you stood next to Charles almost getting cut out of the picture.

Nonetheless the photo came out great and you were happy you received one of the copies. After meeting Santa you went to pick the tree and then everyone scattered to buy presents. Charles left with Pierre, the Spaniard with his girlfriend, Pascale with the youngest and you were left with Lorenzo.

“So uh... I-I guess we’re the only ones left...”

You muttered and the man nodded. You stood in the middle of the square in complete silence until he spoke up.

“Listen uh... I asked Charlie to leave us cause I wanted to talk with you. I hope you’re not mad...”

Lorenzo looked down and started to play with his finger nervously. You started to think of all the things he could want to talk with you about but what you were about to hear shocked you.

“Oh um... As long as you won’t offend me like the rest of your family does I won’t”

“I won’t. I promise. But- Can we go to a café?”

You agreed with a quiet sigh then followed the man. He brough you to a simple but full of Christmas atmosphere café and after you ordered some mulled wine and cookies he started.

“I wanted to talk about Charles...”

“What about him?”

The man hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling it.

“I’ve talked with him about you... I wanted to know what plans he has for the future and if he sees you there with him. He said he loves you so much that he would try his best to persuade mom to give him our grandma’s engagement ring after the holidays... I shouldn’t tell you this but I just need to know... Do you want to have a future with Charles or are you, what Arthur calls you, just a bimbo falling for his money?...”

Your face went pale at the information. You hoped Charles said it just for your skit to be more convincing but the way Lorenzo said it, all serious and without any emotions on his face, started to worry you. Trying to gather your thoughts your eyes closed and palms turned into tight fists, something you always did when thinking hard.

“Hey relax... I-It's just a question... I didn’t mean to stress you out...”

The oldest Leclerc grabbed your hands and rubbed his thumbs along them. It actually helped you relax and think of a suitable answer.

“I don’t get me wrong... I love your brother with my whole hear. I really do. But I can’t tell you if I’d say yes to his proposal. I usually don’t think about the future, just living in the moment y’know?”

Lorenzo nodded understandingly. It seemed like you’ve managed to convince him it was true, but started to feel bad for constantly lying to them, especially since Lori seemed like a really nice guy. You’ve chatted for some time when eventually he apologized for his actions.

“I also wanted to apologise for my behavior... I usually don’t act like that but as you might have noticed out mother's influence is too heavy. Nonetheless I know I did wrong offending you like the others and I'm sorry once again. Seeing my brother so happy while with you made me understand that he actually loves you and that you aren’t as bad as mom is painting you... I hope you'll be able to forgive me one day... “

You smiled softly at the man and his genuine apology. You were really glad that at least one of them apologized to you and couldn’t be mad at him.

“It's okay I forgive you”

While you conversed, Pierre and Charles run around the square looking for a perfect gift for you.

“Oh man... Couldn’t you buy something in Monaco?!”

The Frenchman sighed as they entered yet another store. This time it was a jeweler full of gorgeous sets and classy watches.

“You know well I had no time. Besides, I don’t even know what she likes. I specifically insisted on entering the market from this alley so I could see if her eyes would shine after she notices something-”

“But they didn’t. How can you not know what she likes!? She’s your girlfriend!”

“I’m not sure, okay? I want it to be something unique”

Pierre nodded and soon they started to look for something that would match your vibe. Finally the Frenchman chose a gentle, soft pink butterfly set he noticed you look at as you passed the store, later surprised Charles didn’t notice it too, while the Monegasque opted for something more bold – a silver necklace with an emerald and matching earrings. Now they just had to choose which one Charles was going to buy.

“The green matches her eyes and hair”

“But it’s too heavy for her. The butterflies perfectly match her gentle aura”

“But they’re so small and light you wouldn’t see them on her fair skin...”

Eventually Charles bought what he choose himself. Little did he know that the next day Pierre came back to buy you the set he picked. He was a 100% sure you would like his present way more than Charles’.

Was it weird he bought such an expensive gift for his best friend’s girlfriend? Maybe, but he couldn’t care less. It was the only way for him to please you. He also bought a bottle of vanilla latte perfumes as the smell reminded him of you.

If he could, he would’ve showered you in presents, luxurious gowns from the most expensive boutiques of the world, crown jewels, multiple cars... But you weren’t his, not yet.

The man felt the weird dynamic between you and Charles, it seemed like he was the only one who noticed it. Maybe you two were acting like the sweetest couple ever, madly in love with each other, but you weren’t going to fool him.

He noticed how awkward you could be whenever Charles kissed you and you never kissed on the lips, he was also the only one giving kisses, your lips never touched any part of his skin. Neither did you remember some of the most important things about the Monegasque even though he had no problem remembering yours. Pierre knew there was something going on and he was about to find out soon.

When the boys found you and Lorenzo the four of you met up with the rest in one of the main square's restaurant. You expected something expensive and exclusive as Charles usually insisted on eating out in such restaurants but walking into the premise, a warm, family atmosphere hit you.

You actually enjoyed this little change and the comfortable place itself. You took a place by a long table, Pascale and Charles on either end like the heads of the family, even though it was Lorenzo who was the oldest brother. Through time you've noticed that the quietest Leclerc was often ignored or left out, so you weren’t surprised when Charles took what should’ve been Lori's place.

While you awaited your meals, a little boy around 4 years old run up to your table with a basket of cutlery and a piece of paper with a pen on top. He handed the basket to Charles then pointed at the paper and pen. The man chuckled and signed the paper then gave it to the boy after ruffling his hair. You smiled brightly at their little encounter. When the boy was about to run away a waitress, probably his mother, stopped him and turned him around.

“Honey what do we say? “

They made their way back to your table and the little boy quickly thanked Charles before running off.

“I'm sorry, he's a little shy”

The woman explained bringing your group the food you ordered. She was tall and beautiful, had long blonde hair, ocean blue eyes, seemed around your age and clearly caught Charles' eye. It wasn’t like he immediately fell in lover with her, but he did find her attractive. She was a perfect match for him in Pascale’s eyes and she couldn’t care less that she had a kid already.

Throughout the whole dinner Pascale talked the young woman and her son up, inviting them to eat with you which the blonde had to deny due to her being at work but let her little boy join you. Soon Leo opened up and turned out to be a bubble of joy. He sat on Charles' lap eventually moving to yours when Leclerc had to use the bathroom. That’s when Pascale asked.

“So Y/N. Are you thinking of having kids with Charles? “

You choked on your drink hearing the question. Putting the glass away you coughed a little before responding.

“Well uh... I-I don't want to have kids... I'm not really a fan of them... And I'm sure pregnancy is a beautiful thing but it just scares me too much... “

The blonde laughed. She always laughed into your face when you talked about your beliefs and you slowly couldn’t stand it.

“Oh you're funny. Charles wants to have a lot of kids so it's not like you have a choice. You'll change your mind when he gets you pregnant “

“I'm sure you would love that”

You mumbled under your nose sarcastically knowing well she'd rather die than let her son have kids with you.

“It's her body and her choice mom. If she doesn’t want to have kids I'm not gonna maker her”

Charles said as he overheard a bit of your conversation. His hand squeezed your arm reassuringly. He would never make you do something you didn’t want to.

“Then you should change her for a new model! I want to have grandkids! Leo's mom is a really nice woman. Perfect for you and already has a kid so it wouldn’t be a problem for her to have more “

“Mom”

Charles sighed heavily rubbing his forehead, his hand moving to your lap and soothing it. He felt how tense and angry you were even though you didn’t show it.

“What? I'm just saying the truth-“

“You're just ruining the atmosphere. Y/N is a perfect girl for our Charlie and you should not care if she's a vegetarian, an atheist, a red head, doesn’t want to have kids, etc. etc. What matters is that she loves him and he feels happy with her”

Lorenzo stepped in getting annoyed by his mother. He had enough of her critical opinions about you as you really weren’t that bad.

“And you, Brutus, against me? “

Pascale gasped at her oldest talking back for the first time.

“Yes. I have enough of you talking bad about Y/N. We all have, as it is the only topic you seem to care about. It’s Christmas we should act like a normal, happy family we are and be glad that Charles joined us at all and not criticize his girlfriend”

“Lori's right... You went too far... “

Pierre added quietly. The rest of the dinner Pascale was quiet. She felt sad after her kids words but didn’t feel bad after hers.

Back at home the boys apologized for being so harsh and made up with their mother, but it wasn’t like she was going to be nicer to you.

“I'm sorry for today... “

Charles mumbled handing you a cup of hot cocoa with some vodka and joining you on the couch. You snuggled next to him and thanked for the liquid, then said after taking a sip.

“It's okay I understand it... She would never like me... Good think it's going to end soon... “

You whispered the last sentence loud enough for only Charles to hear, even though you were the only ones awake. Or so you thought. Leclerc wasn’t the only one that heard you. A few seconds earlier Pierre made his way down stairs to have some water and he overheard your short conversation. At first his heart ached as he noticed you two on the couch, getting jealous it wasn’t him instead of Charles, but then the knot loosened after what you've said.

“It's going to end soon”

He started to slowly connect the dots which were a good omen for him. On the other hand, Charles felt sad. He didn’t want this to end, never. The man hoped that he'd manage to make you fall in love with him in those 2 days, although you didn’t seem to change your thoughts about him yet. He had to try harder. That night you fell asleep in his arms, he took you to your shared room and layed with you on the bed. He was shocked but at the same time glad that you didn’t wake up and make him sleep on the floor.

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Waking up to finding yourself on top of Charles wasn’t the best experience. You didn’t remember much from the previous night and started to worry that something happened between you two.

For the rest of the day you tried to ignore him as best as you could, which made Pascale happy. She hoped that after your previous day's conversation, you had a talk or maybe even a quarrel with her son that slowly led to your breakup. It was difficult though. It was the Christmas Eve after all and everyone had some chores to do, sometimes landing you with him to do something or just constantly passing him by.

You didn’t intend on blowing up by the Christmas table but this time Pascale started to offend your family. A family that died in a car accident when you were little, the view of firefighters putting out the burning crashed car as you sat int the ambulance and watched everything engraved in your brain, hunting you almost each night. That was another reason why you agreed to Charles’ request. You wanted to finally spend Christmas with a family in a pleasant atmosphere. But it wasn’t given to you...

“WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?! “

You shot up from your place and shouted on top of your lungs at the blonde.

“IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOU'RE SUCH AN ALIEN! “

“I'M AN ALIEN?! LOOK AT YOURSELF! I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING TO YOU BUT YOU KEEP ACTING LIKE A BITCH! ALL OF YOU DO! I REGRET AGREEING TO EVEN COME HERE! NOT MENTIONING SPENDING ALMOST THE WHOLE WEEK WITH YOU! FUCK IT I'M GOING HOME TOMORROW. I PREFER TO SPEND THE CHRISTMAS ALONE THAN WITH YOU! “

“GREAT! LEAVE AND NEVER EVER COME BACK YOU SLUT! “

You left the dining room in tears, quickly put on your coat and run out of the house. Pierre rushed after you while Charles and Lorenzo started to fight with their mother.

Pierre hopped into his car and quickly drove up to you. He softly honked at you a few times while calling your name.

“LEAVE ME ALONE!”

You shouted after stopping, mascara mixed with tears falling down your cheeks, hair disheveled and body trembling as you wore only your thigh length, red, sequin dress under the coat.

“Come in, please... You're freezing... “

After a few minutes of convincing, you got into the car and Pierre drove away.

“Where are you taking me?... “

You asked quietly, from time to time sniffling.

“Somewhere we can chill out in”

He explained squeezing your covered thigh. After you entered the vehicle he immediately took off his jacket and put it on your legs then planted his palm on your limb to assure you everything was going to be alright. Pierre parked his car in front of a bar then helped you out and inside. You ordered some drinks and filled one of the booths before chugging one after another. That's what you needed, to get drunk and forget about everything.

“Your family is hell... How do you even stand them!? “

You mumbled out with a hiccup. Your head was propped on your hand with the elbow on the table, you looked terrible, a wreck of a woman, but to Pierre you've looked more beautiful than ever. He was more than happy to have this little moment with you, even if it was supposed to end soon with you passing out. A thing he didn’t knew was that you had a really strong head and you were just a little tipsy after 3 drinks and 2 beers.

“I don’t know either... They're usually not that bad... I don’t know what happened this time”

“I happened. You can’t deny it... They just hate me for nothing and I can’t stand it anymore! “

Your free hand hit the table almost spilling your 3rd beer.

“Yeah I've noticed”

The man chuckled while you huffed unamused, your brows furrowing.

“It's funny to you? “

You hissed at which he shook his head.

“Maybe a little... “

Pierre admitted making you hit his head with a beer cap. He laughed once again this time getting one out of you too. Soon you got really comfortable with him and did what Charles feared the most.

“You know... There's something I want to tell you... “

“I'm listening”

“I'm... I'm not actually Charles’ girlfriend... We're just best friends and he asked me to come with him so you would stop asking him about a second half... Guess that didn’t turn out as he wished it would... “

You sighed melting into the couch. The man was silent for a while before he stood up and sat next to you.

“Then... You won’t be mad if I do this?... “

Looking up at him confused you felt his palm capture your chin and his finger brush along your bottom lip while gazing lovingly and deeply into your eyes. Before you could say something he connected your lips in a soft kiss, giving you time to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead straddling his lap and deepening the kiss. It might have been because of the alcohol, or just because of your mutual attraction that you soon found yourself naked in the back of his car, getting marked and taken great care of. It felt bad but oh so good... By midnight you came back home and continued your sinful ministrations in his bedroom.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🎄˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Waking up on the first day of Christmas by his side you finally felt like you belonged there, belonged to the family, belonged to him. You weren’t scared, weirded out nor uncomfortable, not like with Charles. You felt as if Pierre was the one thing that was missing in your life.

“Morning... “

Soon you could hear him mumble. You looked up with a soft smile and placed a soft kiss to his lips.

“Will you drive me back home?... I'm not sure I'll be able to look Charles in the eyes after yesterday... “

You sighed resting your chin on top of his chest and played with it's hair. Pierre raised his eyebrow at you, a slightly sad expression forming on his face.

“You didn’t... Enjoy it?”

He whispered at which you shook your head.

“No, no. I enjoyed it, I really did but... I don’t know... It felt a bit wrong... “

You looked away with a sigh thinking of Charles’ reaction if he found out what you two were up to the previous night. He would've been furious with both of you most probably starting a fight and setting the house on fire and neither of you would like that.

“Stay... Just for the breakfast... And I'll drive you home in the afternoon. You still have presents to give us don’t you? “

Pierre started to rub your back and draw patterns on it, trying to calm you down and make relaxed once again.

“I'm sure you wouldn’t like them... Besides Charles can give them to you-”

“But I want to receive it from you. Not from Charles. Not from Lorenzo. From you. Please... Stay... For me... “

Looking into his eyes you saw the sparkles and hearts once again, your heart melting at the sight. You exhaled and agreed reluctantly. That family was going to be the end of you... You were about to get up and start getting dressed when Lorenzo knocked on the door and walked in right after.

“Pierre where's Y/N-“

You hid your bare chest from his view and pulled away from Pierre but was unable to say anything when Lorenzo quickly left and shut the door.

“Fuck. We're fucked. Oh my god that was a bad idea”

You rumbled while getting dressed in the speed of light. When you shot out of Gasly's room you bumped into Leclerc, patiently waiting for you to leave.

“Lori I-“

“Shhh... It's not your fault. You let him fool yourself, but it’s no wonder considering the situation you’re in. I don’t blame you and won’t tell anyone. Now, go make yourself presentable. We don’t want mom to see you like this do we? “

The man placed a kiss on top of your head before rushing you away. You were really confused with his reaction but glad as fuck that he didn’t immediately run to Charles to tell him. After you walked away, Lorenzo stormed into Pierre's room.

“WHAT THE FUCK MAN?! “

Lorenzo tried to throw a punch straight to Gasly's face but due to being way weaker, the Frenchman easily stopped him pinning him down on the bed.

“Calm down and shut up”

He hissed before releasing Leclerc.

“Are you crazy?! She's Charlie’s girlfriend! He's your bestfriend! Your family! “

Pierre rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. He knew well that what you did was wrong but he didn’t feel bad. Quite the contrary. He felt like on cloud 9 after spending the night with you. Not only because you had sex but because you could finally be alone. Just the two of you. No Pascale. No Charles. Just Y/N and Pierre.

In meanwhile you passed Pascale on the corridor. Of course she wasn’t happy to see you in the morning, but thankfully didn’t pay attention to your tired and disheveled state. Neither did the woman notice you leave Pierre’s room earlier.

“What are you still doing here? “

Turning around on your heel you took a deep breath and started.

“I decided to stay until tomorrow morning. Just for Charles. And I sincerely apologize for my yesterdays manners. I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that but your own actions aren’t the best either. I’m sorry once again “

The woman looked you up and down in complete silence before walking away without a word. The only thing she could admit she liked about you was that you were able to apologize and admit your mistakes, not like herself.

“Where were you?”

Charles asked as you quietly entered your shared room, hoping you wouldn’t wake him up but he was up all night.

“I’ve tried to reach you and Pierre the whole night. Where. Were. You. “

The man got up from the bed and slowly walked up to you, caging you between the door and himself.

“Pierre took me to a bar... We’ve spent there the whole night and came back like 2 hours ago... “

You gulped looking up at the man. Good thing you went to the bathroom and corrected your appearance before going in there or you would've been in way more trouble. Charles sighed, his hands capturing yours and squeezing them gently.

“I was looking for you everywhere... You don’t even know how worried I was... I know you were angry but you could’ve at least let me know you’re alright... Or make Pierre call me... “

One of his hands brushed your cheek as his eyes averted between yours and your pink lips. Charles wanted to kiss you so bad but figured you could be still mad and decided otherwise. Plus he was still furious at Pierre taking you somewhere without his knowledge, and if you blew up he would blow up too. Then knowing your both’s tempers the whole house would be on fire with Pascale and Arthur constantly adding gasoline.

“I know... I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to worry you, it’s just that... I couldn’t stand it anymore... I want to go home...”

A single tear fell down your cheek which Charles quickly kissed away. He hated to see you in that state, but what he hated even more was that he was the one who caused it. If he hadn’t asked you for that favor, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. He was a shitty bestfriend.

“I love her okay? I just... I just can’t help it... “

Pierre blurted out making Lorenzo shut up and look at him in disbelief. He couldn’t believe in the Frenchman.

“You- WHAT?! “

The Monegasque threw himself at Pierre, a fight unraveling between the two, destroying almost the whole room before they flew out of it through the door, landing on the floor with a loud thump. The noise caught everyone’s attention, saving you from the too uncomfortable conversation with Charles.

“Oh my god boys!”

Pascale tried to push them away from each other before getting shooed over by Carlos and Arthur, so she wouldn’t accidentally get hurt, who stopped the fight. Lorenzo wriggled in his younger brother’s arms angrily, blood running down his nose while Pierre already calmed down a little and touched his black eye gently.

“What have you done!?”

Pascale shouted at you with anger in her eyes. Sure the fight was about you but it’s not like you caused it... Maybe not entirely but still.

“Why do you already accuse me?! I wasn’t even there! I was with Charles!”

The middle Leclerc nodded confirmingly while his arm wrapped around your waist pulling you close in a protective manner. Pierre wanted to vomit at the sight, blood boiled in his vains and he was ready to start another fight this time with Charles but knew better than that. The man just wanted the Christmas to be over so he could finally take you out somewhere and spend some time with you in a normal, nice atmosphere. Without Charles, without Lorenzo, without his family. Just you and him. Together.

“But I’m sure it’s your fault! My boys aren’t my boys anymore since you’ve showed up here! You’ve ruined them! “

You were ready to throw a punch at her and you would’ve done that if not her whole family watching you. Instead you just kept rushing Lorenzo to the bathroom to help him with his nose and talk about the fight.

“I did not expect this from you...”

You huffed angrily, sitting him down on a stool in front of you.

“This is a house of fucking madmen...”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry... But when Pierre disrespected my little brother like that I just couldn’t hold it in anymore...”

The man sighed looking up at you with those big, brown puppy eyes of his. You softly shook your head before proceeding to wipe the blood away from underneath his nose.

“I think... I need to tell you something. You just... Need to stay calm okay?”

“I don’t like where this is going...”

“I know you love your brother with your whole heart and think I’m the best lady he could have but... This is all a lie... We’re not together... We’re just best friends... He asked me to join you because he had enough of constant questions about the other half and hoped bringing me with himself would solve it... But it didn’t. Instead making even more chaos...”

You said on one breath then watched Lori’s face for any signs of his reaction. The man was quiet for a longer time before finally speaking.

“Oh... That's... That’s a pity... And... And I started to get so happy you would be my sister in law... I’m sorry that’s- that’s just stupid”

The Monegasque stood up and was about to leave when you grabbed his shoulders and sat him back down. You embraced him in a warm hug and gave a gentle kiss to his head.

“I may not be your sister in law but you can always count on me. No matter what. You’re like a brother I’ve never had, Lori”

“Stop it or I’m gonna cry...”

He hid his face in the crook of your neck while hugging you back. He felt sad that you and Charles weren’t actually together and was sorry for his brother due to his apparent attraction to you and your obliviousness.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🎄˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

“This morning started just incredibly...”

Pascale sighed as she sat down in her armchair in the living room. The whole group already after breakfast now waiting for Lorenzo, who was still with you, to join them so they could unpack their presents. The atmosphere was dense, you could cut it with a knife, yet you still decided to give them your presents first to have it over already. You walked down the stairs with Lorenzo, both holding a few bags, then entered the quiet living room. Taking a deep breath you started your monologue while the Monegasque handed out your gifts.

“I know you have enough of me already, so you can do whatever you want with those. Sell them. Throw them away. Heck even burn them! I don’t care. I just wanted to say sorry that I ruined your Christmas and hopefully next year everything would be way better. Without me of course. Coming here I was hoping for an enjoyable, family Christmas – one that I haven’t had since I was five, when my parents died. But it turned out how it turned out and honestly... In contrast to what I’ve said yesterday – I don’t regret joining you. I am just crazy and this was fun. You can open those now”

With that said you let them open the gifts. Each one of them received a different, knitted by you, Christmas sweater. You once saw a really old family photo at Charles’, one where his father was still alive and Arthur was just a little baby. Everyone was dressed in sweaters like those, with huge smiles on their faces and you hoped to recreate that moment before you came there.

You’ve tried your best to freshen out their designs while keeping the overall vibe of each piece, spending a lot of time on making them without Charles’ knowledge. Now you couldn’t care less.

But seeing their reactions, especially Pascale’s, made your heart break in half. The older woman started to cry, the rest following after. Some just sniffling like Pierre or Charles, too manly to show any emotions. Some cried their eyes out like Arthur and the older woman, which shocked you a lot. You looked confused between them before Carlos spoke up.

“Herve used to make such sweaters for us every Christmas... Then took million photos of us wearing them, proud of his opus... We haven’t worn such sweaters for Christmas every since his death... Thank you Y/N... It’s the best gif we could’ve ever receive”

The man got up hugging you tightly, Rebecca and Lorenzo following shortly after.

“It even looks like my first one...”

Arthur blurted out, almost choking on his tears as he looked down at the piece then back at you.

“Thank you...”

“I... I had no idea...”

You mumbled out. Your heart melted at the view and you were more than pleased that they loved them.

“I’m sorry...”

Soon you heard Pascale whisper through tears. You smiled softly and crouched down in front of her embracing her in a warm hug. The woman didn’t say anything instead hiding her face in your shoulder. You held her like that for a longer time, not saying a word not wanting to startle her, as the whole family watched with huge smiles. When she pulled away you wiped her tears away and helped her put on the sweater.

“It’s beautiful... Thank you...”

The older woman said quietly, while looking down. She was too ashamed to look into your eyes. After receiving your gift she finally understood that you tried your best to fit into their family, not trying to impose your views on them which she accused you of.

She understood her behaviour towards you was horrible and undeserved as you didn’t do anything bad to her nor her son. Quite the contrary. You seemed to make Charles even more happier than he was.

The death of her husband and constant thought of loosing her children too changed her so much she didn’t even realise she started to be toxic. And it wasn’t only to you. Earlier she was critical of every previous girlfriend that any of her sons brought home, but she was just terrible to you and nothing could justify her doings. But your heart was too big to not forgive her after her apology. You felt it was sincere and even shed a tear before hugging her once again.

After you had your little moment with Pascale, Charles got up and announced.

“Well... I guess I should say sorry too. To all of you. For lying straight into your faces... We’re actually not together with Y/N. I just wanted you to fuck off from my love life, that’s why I brought her... I’m sorry once again... “

The whole family forgave him immediately, actually being a little sad it all was a lie as they saw the fire in Charles’ eyes whenever he looked at you.

“Tell her...”

Lorenzo tried to persuade his younger brother quietly, earning a confused look from you and Pascale.

“Tell me what?”

You asked soon, too impatient to wait. You watched the man make his way over to you and sit down beside you on the floor. He captured your hands in his and gave each a sweet kiss before confessing his love.

“I love you Y/N L/N. I always did... Since we’ve met I knew you were the one for me... I can’t live without you. Without your smile. Without your laugh. Those beautiful green eyes... I just- Will you be my girlfirend? This time for real?...”

Feeling uneasy with what you’ve just heard and all the eyes watching you, you looked at Pierre hoping he’d help you. He was hurt and scared you would say yes, making your eyes water.

“No you can’t- You can’t be in love with me... That’s a joke right? Please tell me it’s a joke”

Shaking your head you felt tears spill down your cheeks and an awkward chuckle escaped your lips. It was all too much for one day.

“It’s not like I haven’t been humiliated enough...”

You stood up from your place and was about to leave when Charles caught your hand and stopped you.

“Y/N I’m serious”

“Serious!? Nothing in this house- this family, is serious! You all hate me for stupidest things ever and you dare to say you’re serious!?”

You hissed, emotions steering inside of you, slowly spilling out.

“We don’t hate you...”

Arthur said but you knew better.

“OH REALLY?! And you of all people say that. Y/N this... Y/N that... A bimbo. A heathen. A leafhead! That’s what you all think of me... You think I’m not good enough for your Lord Perceval... And I don’t want to be! I’m an alien who ruined your Christmas and then slept with Pierre!”

You shouted out without realising what you’ve just said.

“What?”

Charles confused question made you comprehend your words and cover your mouth with your hands in shock. The room felt silent, only the faint sound of clock ticking could be heard until the middle Leclerc launched himself at Gasly.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

“Not again!”

Pierre shouted as they dropped out the door, this time the front ones, onto the cold and wet snow. The other men tried to get them away from one another, each failing getting hurt in proces.

“You motherfucker how could you! You’re my best friend and you fucked the girl you knew well I love!”

Soon Leclerc straddled Pierre, palms tightly wrapped around his neck trying to choke him. You’ve never seen Charles so mad, which only confirmed his words that he indeed loved you. Otherwise he wouldn’t try to kill his bestie. Finally, after the 7 of you managed to pull them away you wanted to sink into the ground and die.

“You hate me now, don’t you?”

You asked quietly, entering the room you previously shared with Charles. The Monegasque sat on the bed and gazed at something way before you came there, not moving an inch even after you sat down next to him.

“I'm sorry-“

“I should’ve told you a long time ago... “

“But it my answer would've been no different... I love you Charles, but as a brother and nothing will change that. I'm sorry... “

The man layed down and placed his head on your legs as you started to play with his hair. You've talked for a long time eventually understanding each other's feelings and that nothing would come out of it.

With time and your help, Charles has managed to move on from you. Exactly a year later, you met at the same house once again, this time in a slightly changed composition.

Charles burst in with Leo in his arms and Kate following shortly after. They greeted everyone before finally walking up to you and Pierre.

“We have a little surprise... “

You bit your lip out of excitement while Pierre lifted up his last year's sweater from tour belly revealing a baby bump.

“We think of naming him Perceval”

The Frenchman teased as Leclerc gazed at you in disbelief and excitement.

“Oh you have to call him Charles or Charlie. You owe me that! “

He joked with a loud chuckled, secretly hoping you actually would do that.

"I thought you didn't want to have kids"

Kate asked. You gazed up at Pierre with a loving look them averted your eyes back to Charles and his new girlfriend.

"I think I'm ready"

You never thought that agreeing to help your best friend would change your life 360 degrees. Yet there you were, just a year later, finally accepted in the family, carrying it's another member. You couldn’t have wished for better holidays...

[luckhound]

— heavy burdens.

pairing.  kaeya/gender neutral reader

genre.  angst

description.  on an important anniversary, kaeya gets drunk off his ass, bonds with a fellow captain, and realizes some burdens can’t ever be set back down.

warnings.  spoilers for kaeya and diluc’s character stories. mentions of alcohol and a character (kaeya) being under the influence.

note.  four months later and i’ve finally finished this fic after writing it on and off for that whole time mskfjdks a big thank you to sierra, miya, and grace for reading over the previous drafts of this and giving me their honest thoughts, love you ladies <3

He hadn’t expected to get shitfaced when he had first stepped foot in the tavern. Honest.

His plan for the evening was as follows: Go to Angel’s Share, chat with patrons, share some laughs, learn some secrets, and see where the night goes. Only the information he gleaned would tell how it ended; with him stumbling back to his quarters for a night’s rest, or ruminating on how to dismantle schemes that enemies of Mondstadt were concocting in the shadows.

So, the usual. Nothing too noteworthy.

Then he happened to overhear a conversation on the way there.

The two civilians spoke in low, somber tones about how it has been exactly one year since Master Crepus’s death and his son Diluc’s subsequent departure from Mondstadt. How terrible, they mused as they shook their heads, that the new winery master hasn’t been heard from since. He must still be in mourning over his father.

Kaeya nearly stopped in the middle of the crowded street. Was today really the one-year anniversary of Master Crepus’s death? How had it managed to slip his mind? He’s been busy lately with a promising lead, true, but to think that he would forget...

Which, long story cut ruthlessly short, leads him to where he is now. Tuning out his tumultuous thoughts with the help of alcohol and secrets.

Upon entering the tavern to raucous cheers, he had flitted from table to table like the social butterfly he's purported to be. The usual suspects greeted him with varying levels of warmth, inviting him to sit and keep them company. Stable hands and bandits alike shared a drink with him, words spilling from their lips like the fine wine they supped on.

After some time, though, he grew tired of their monotonous days and banal gripes. So he retreated to the bar counter. As he nursed a Death After Noon, he kept an ear out, listening carefully even as he chatted with Charles between customers.

Unfortunately, he hasn’t heard anything juicy yet. So and so is complaining about his wife, while someone else is haranguing her boss, and another is celebrating their birthday. Dull and uninteresting.

Can you blame him for getting so deep in his cups? There’s nothing else to do on such a slow night.

“So this is where you decided to hide out. Colour me surprised.”

Kaeya notes the shadow falling over the counter moments before a familiar drawl reaches his ears. He tilts his head up, blinking furiously when his vision blurs. The drinks he's downed thus far—how many has it been? He lost count after five, how unlike him—have certainly reached his bloodstream.

You stand beside his stool, your lips thinned into an unimpressed line. Despite how inebriated he is, the relevant information he has on you flashes through his mind. A Knight of Favonius. Captain of the Intelligence Team. Once a company grade officer, then sergeant, lieutenant, before ascending to captain upon the retirement of your superior.

As admired as he is by most of Mondstadt, you’re among the minority who are far from his biggest fans. For good reason, he supposes. During your first meeting, he had congratulated you on your promotion, before going on to flippantly insult your old captain. You’ve hated him ever since.

Which is why he’s puzzled by you approaching him first—outside of headquarters, at that. Such a phenomenon is rare, like catching a crystalfly in your hands.

“Captain! Fancy seeing you here,” he greets, adopting a jovial tone. Then your words register in his addled mind. “‘Hide out’, you said? Whatever would I do that for?”

You prop a hand on your hip. “You didn’t make an appearance at the meeting today. Needless to say, the Dandelion Knight isn’t too impressed with you at the moment.” You appraise him, looking underwhelmed by what you see. Ouch. “Strange. You don’t seem terribly ill to me.”

Ah. That. Kaeya had wanted to investigate some curious rumours he’d heard around the city, so he made up a flimsy excuse to dodge the captain’s meeting held this morning. Grand Master Varka likely hadn’t batted an eye over it, but not Jean. She’ll have concerns.

He hums noncommittally. The thought of annoying his oldest ally never fails to bring a smirk to his lips, but he isn’t quite in the mood right now. “Is that so. You must be here to sternly tell me to clean up my act then.”

You scoff. “Surely you don’t need a second babysitter. No, I’m off-duty, so I’m here for the same reason everyone else is: to drink.”

“Hear, hear.” He lifts his tankard as if to toast to you, but the sudden momentum causes him to sway dangerously in his seat.

“Careful!” Eyes widening in alarm, you reach out to steady him. “Geez, Alberich. How many drinks have you had?”

The palm of your hand is warm where it sits on his shoulder; he can tell that even with his furs in the way. He almost leans into the touch but catches himself at the last second. How mortifying. He can just picture your horrified reaction to him drunkenly nuzzling up against you.

Almost falling off his seat in a crowded tavern, instinctively seeking out your slightest touch... He needs to get a hold of himself. Or find a way to halt the conversation here, so he can resume drinking by his lonesome.

“Not nearly enough,” he answers airily, leaning an elbow on the bar counter. You drop your hand to your side; he makes a point to not stare at it as you do. “Where’s your entourage? I’m surprised they aren't following dutifully behind you.”

“They’re my subordinates, not my entourage.” You shift awkwardly. “And they aren’t here. It may surprise you, but they have lives outside of the Intelligence Team. They can enjoy one evening without their captain breathing down their necks.”

He eyes you in amusement. “In that case, you should join me. I would welcome the company.” He finishes off his tankard, then motions to Charles for another drink. The bartender doesn’t even ask which one as he takes the pewter mug. He knows him well by now, after all.

Kaeya expects you to turn him down and find a seat elsewhere. Usually, such an invitation is enough to send you running for the hills. You lean a hip against the counter instead, as if settling in. “If I am not mistaken, you’re needed at headquarters tomorrow. I strongly advise you to call it a night, Captain.”

“Aww, are you worried about me, Captain?” He manages a grin at the scowl his reply elicits. “Don’t be. It won’t be the first time I stumble into work hungover. Certainly won’t be the last either.”

“How reassuring,” you say dryly.

“I aim to please.”

He perks up when Charles returns with a full tankard. The delectable taste of Death After Noon still sits on his tongue, warm and heady. He very much wants to experience it again. When he lifts the mug to his mouth, however, he misses the rim. He steadies the tankard before it empties itself onto his lap, but some of the wine drips down his chin, ruining his vest.

Thank goodness he isn’t drinking red wine. Every adult in Mondstadt knows red wine stains are notoriously difficult to clean. Still, what a waste of a perfectly good sip.

“Oh, for Barbatos’s sake.” That’s all the warning he gets before his drink is rudely snatched from his hand. He protests but can only watch helplessly as you bring it to your lips.

Then you proceed to down it.

His brows raise higher and higher the longer your throat bobs. He's never seen you drink with such gusto before. Shouldn’t you be gasping for breath by now? But no, you empty the tankard in a single go, then slam it on the counter (Charles makes a face, but wisely says nothing) and meet his gaze without flinching.

Wow, is all that his intoxicated mind can conjure up at the feat.

“There, all done. Now let’s go. I am walking you back.” Your voice is firm, brooking no argument. How captain-like of you. “Wouldn’t want Mondstadt’s illustrious Cavalry Captain to be found passed out in an alleyway tomorrow.”

On any other day, he’d be mildly irked by your stubbornness. But he did just spill his drink down his front like a newborn babe. No wonder you brought up his rank. In your eyes, his conduct must not befit that of a high-ranking knight. He doesn’t care what assumptions people form about him, never has, but tonight has been a bust anyway. Maybe it's best to call it quits.

Sighing theatrically, he rises to his feet. “All right, I know when I have been beaten. But don’t change your plans on my account. I can head to the barracks by myself just fine.”

“I’m sure you can,” you say, “but letting you walk alone this late in your state would grate at my conscience. So would you stop talking for once, and let me take you home?”

You get what you want. Your words render him silent.

Home, you called the barracks. He supposes you consider that place your home. But is it his, truly?

He thinks of Khaenri’ah, nothing but a distant, bloody memory. He thinks of his father, and how in their final moments together, the man had stared through him like he wasn’t there. He thinks of the Dawn Winery, where he had spent several years causing mayhem. He thinks of Master Crepus, never dad, and a brother who doesn’t exist anymore.

No, the barracks aren’t his home. Maybe he’s never had one to begin with.

When he comes to, Kaeya registers you leading him in the direction of the tavern door, your hand on his shoulder blade. This quickly catches the attention of the patrons. They call out their goodbyes, some raising their tankards and others chuckling good-naturedly.

“Look at that! Our Cavalry Cap’n had too much to drink, eh?”

“What, are you tapping out already, Captain Kaeya?”

“Has to be escorted out by a fellow knight, no less!”

You wave over your shoulder. “Just doing my patriotic duty, that's all.”

Kaeya gives his audience an exaggerated wink (as well as he can with his one uncovered eye) followed by a lazy hand salute. His grin remains fixed in place until the door swings shut. The wooden barrier barely muffles the sounds of conversation and merriment coming from within.

Had it been that loud while he was inside? He hadn’t noticed.

He isn’t able to dwell on it for long, because you nudge him in the direction of headquarters. “Come on. We have a bit of a walk ahead of us. Let’s get to it.”

“Oh, very well. But only because you asked so nicely.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“I know. I was being sarcastic.”

You nudge him harder, and he snickers under his breath as he walks.

This time of night, the cobblestone streets seem devoid of life. With the exception of Patton, who’s practically asleep standing up, the two of you don’t run into anyone. It's a stark change from how the city usually is, bright and bustling with crowds.

It suits him just fine, though. The crisp night air is sobering him up somewhat, the fog that had settled over his mind thinning. All too soon, he recalls everything he was trying to suppress.

Master Crepus. Diluc. His callousness and cruelty in forgetting them both.

In hindsight, he should have taken his mug back from you instead of just gaping like a fool. Sobriety is such a drag.

“You’re quiet,” you comment. You’re staring at him intently, your expression eerily similar to Timaeus’s when he is observing an alchemical reaction. It’s as if he is a specimen that you are keen on studying under a microscope.

He wants to scowl, to snap at you. “My apologies,” he says instead, as innocent as can be. “Were you waiting for me to strike up a conversation? Hold on a moment, let me think of a good topic...”

“That is not what I meant and you know it. It’s just, usually it’s impossible to get you to stop talking. The times I have seen you...indisposed”—buzzed as a bee, you undoubtedly mean—“that doesn’t change. You talk more, if anything.”

Curiously, your voice softens, an odd cadence colouring it. One he has not heard from you before, not directed at him at least. “I guess I’m just wondering if something is weighing on your mind. Is that what prompted you to drink so much tonight?”

By now, the two of you have walked down the stairway to the Knights of Favonius’s bulletin board. Of course, Hertha isn’t there this late to assign requests and bounties. The pieces of parchment pinned to the board flutter in the breeze. He stares at the sketch of a Ruin Guard, willing his sluggish mind to craft a suitable answer.

After a beat, his eye slides over to you. An impish grin curls at the corners of his mouth. “My, I had no idea that you watched my every move so closely. I’m flattered by the attention.”

Predictably, you sputter. “What even—that is not—you know what, if you want to dodge the question so badly, fine. We can just walk the rest of the way in silence.”

“As you wish, Captain.”

Although his words were said to fluster you into changing the subject, as you had correctly deduced, Kaeya means them. You have noticed him far more than he realized. As Captain of the Intelligence Team, it’s your job to be observant and keep tabs on others. He knows that. Still, it’s disconcerting to learn that you’ve had a close eye on him in particular.

He operates from the shadows for a reason; he can’t have you jeopardizing that by shining a light on him. Five months into your new position, and already you have proven yourself to be dangerous.

As you wished for, silence reigns as the two of you turn into an alley and approach two flights of stairs, leading to the center of the city. Kaeya resists pressing a hand against the nearest wall for balance. He had walked down a stairway unaided just moments ago, despite how unsteady he felt. Surely ascending some steps would prove to be easier.

Rather than focus on his feet, he looks up ahead. From his position, he can just barely glimpse the blades of a windmill, ever-turning against the dark backdrop of the night sky. He keeps his gaze there as he climbs, his boots scraping against stone.

He clears the first flight of stairs with little issue. See? Nothing to it.

Halfway up the second, Kaeya stumbles.

His surroundings tilt, blurring as he fumbles for balance. It’s a futile effort. Thanks to how inebriated he is, his limbs are too heavy and uncoordinated. The stone below rushes up to meet him.

Before his face can greet it, however, you catch him.

Your side moulds against his, a hand clasping his hip while the other carefully grasps at his spiked pauldron. His gloved hand covers yours reflexively as his racing heartbeat settles. He feels you stiffen at the touch, but you don't pull away. Neither does he.

For a moment, not a word is spoken between you both. The alley is filled only with the soft sound of breathing.

Then you click your tongue. “So much for heading back by yourself. You can barely keep your feet under you.” Your voice lilts with humour.

He knows this song and dance. It has been ingrained in him after all these months. You snark at him, he snarks back. Rinse and repeat. Although this is the first time he has heard levity in your tone; the first time it has been aimed at him, that is. He almost hadn’t thought you capable of it.

He straightens with a chuckle. “First at the tavern, and now in an alley. I just keep falling for you tonight, don’t I?”

You blink owlishly. It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Then a flustered expression crosses your features, before you compose yourself. “You are unbelievable.”

He grins. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You roll your eyes, even as the corners of your lips twitch. “You would.”

Kaeya expects you to move away, so the two of you can resume walking, but you don’t. “Not that I mind having your hands on me, but...will you be letting go any time soon?”

“That depends.” A challenging glint appears in your eye. “Can you handle walking on your own? Or do you need me to cradle you the rest of the way to headquarters, like some damsel?”

He guffaws, taken off-guard by the retort. A reply escapes his loosened tongue before he can think better of it, “Archons, that sounded just like him.”

“Like who?”

“My brother.”

In the past, despite being underage, he was sometimes able to charm bartenders at Angel’s Share—new hires unaware of how to deal with him as of yet—into serving him drinks. Diluc would find him eventually, a disapproving twist to his mouth, and put a stop to it.

Back then, Kaeya was a lightweight and had to be supported back to headquarters. Diluc would scowl and roll his eyes the entire way, but there was still a softness in his gaze. His hands were strong, but careful; Kaeya knew that his brother would not let him fall. He could even be persuaded to join in when Kaeya began to sing, their off-key voices disturbing the silence of the night.

Come morning, while Kaeya nursed the inevitable headache and Jean nagged him about violating the Knights of Favonius Handbook, Diluc would snort. “Serves you right,” he’d say, then hand him a draught for curing hangovers.

Now Kaeya must weather the pain alone.

You tilt your head to the side, your gaze fixed on his. “I had no idea that you have a brother,” you say softly.

Had, he nearly corrects. But he has told you too much already.

This is why he is so careful when drinking in the company of others. Alcohol is a double-edged sword; as delectable as it is, it also loosens inhibitions. It’s what he relies on when charming information out of allies and adversaries alike, none of them the wiser of what they have given up.

How the tables have turned.

“Well, now you do.” A trace of bitterness enters his tone.

You eye him, quiet, before pulling back. You motion forward with your chin. “Let’s keep moving. We’ll never make it to headquarters at this pace.”

Relieved by the subject change, he listens. He makes a conscious effort to place one foot in front of the other, gaze trained on the remaining steps below. You stay at his side, closer than you were before. He can feel your hand hovering at the small of his back, ready to catch him should he trip once more, but he ignores it.

It won’t happen again. He’ll make sure of it.

The alley opens up to a view of the market district. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have long to enjoy the reprieve. The two of you turn right, away from the railing overlooking the main square, to climb two more flights of stairs. A left, and more stairways await.

By the time the Knights of Favonius Headquarters looms above you, Kaeya’s legs ache from the walk. He is very much looking forward to retiring to his quarters.

The knights stationed outside stiffen at the sight of you and Kaeya, standing at attention. They perform a salute in perfect unison. Do they rehearse that before every shift? Surely they must.

The guard on the left, with the glasses and unfortunate haircut, chirps, “Good evening, Captains! I hope you are doing well.” He appears wide awake despite the late hour.

At least the one on the right looks appropriately haggard. “Welcome back,” he grunts.

While Kaeya brushes past them with a nod of acknowledgement, eager to head inside, you stop. “Good evening, Athos, Porthos. Your shift ends soon, I hope? It can’t be terribly interesting, standing watch outside headquarters so late.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Captain!” Athos, as you had referred to him, says. “Guard duty may not be glamorous, but it is still important.”

“Much as I agree with the lad, I can’t bring myself to be so damn cheerful about it,” Porthos sighs, his words tinged with self-deprecation. “Must be ‘cause of these old bones.”

“That’s not true, Sir Porthos. Your bones aren’t that old!” the younger knight argues, prompting the older to shake his head with a chuckle.

“Athos isn’t wrong,” you add. “You are far more sprightly than most knights I know.”

“If that’s true, then Mondstadt is in trouble.”

Smiling and shaking your head, you finally pass by them, climbing the short steps to return to Kaeya's side. He lifts a brow as he pulls on one of the large oak doors, holding it open for you.

It’s almost comical how quickly your smile disappears. Your eyes narrow as you enter inside. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” he says breezily, following after you. The door falls closed behind you both with a loud, echoing thud. “Just that I didn’t know you were so chummy with the guards.”

It is blindingly bright inside the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, as if it isn’t nearing midnight. The sconces on the walls are lit up, as is the chandelier hanging in the center of the main hall. The two of you make your way towards the—joy of all joys—staircase. The barracks for knights are located on the second floor, and on the floor above that, separate quarters for the captains.

“I am off-duty right now. It’s not unprofessional for me to speak informally with them.”

His eye widens. “Why, I never said it was unprofessional, Captain.”

You grind your teeth so hard he can practically hear the enamel wearing away. “You implied it.” No, he didn’t. Your distaste for him has you imagining mockery where there is none. As if Kaeya has any room to judge someone for acting unprofessional.

“I did? That’s news to me.” Privately, he marvels at how easily he can agitate you. Him, no one else—he has observed you long enough to know your prickliness is reserved for him alone. Maybe that’s why he annoys you further instead of clearing up the many miscommunications that tend to occur. Not that you’ll believe him, even if he’s being completely honest.

You huff. “How the Dandelion Knight manages to put up with you, I’ll never know,” you mutter.

“How rude, Captain! Jean doesn’t put up with me, she considers me indispensable.”

You cut a look at him. “Yes, I’m sure she thought the same when you failed to show up to today’s meeting.”

“Must you bring that up again? I shudder just thinking of the lecture she’ll have ready for me in the morning. Perhaps my mysterious ailment should plague me for a little while longer...”

“Prolonging the inevitable will do you no favours.” You pause briefly, then add, “Ah, I almost forgot to mention. After the meeting, I ran into Inspector Eroch. He was waiting outside and asked after you. He seemed irked when I informed him that you were absent today.”

If Kaeya was not so skilled at masking his reactions, he would’ve perked up at that. He might have even stopped in his tracks or whipped his head around to look at you. But he knows better than to give himself away so obviously. He leisurely climbs the steps, his features revealing only vague interest. “Oh? Somehow I doubt he was upset out of concern for my wellbeing.”

You glance over. “I wouldn’t know. He did not say anything when I asked why he wanted to see you, or if I could pass on a message. He just brushed me off and left.”

“Don’t be hurt by his shameful conduct, Captain. I for one enjoy your company immensely.”

You ignore his thoughtful statement. “I thought that he might have had a prior engagement with you, which you missed due to being terribly ill.”

He shrugs. “If we did, I don’t recall it.”

That earns him another look, longer than the one before. He doesn’t flinch away from it, his expression remaining serene. Privately, he wonders what you know. Are you merely intrigued by what Inspector Eroch might want with him? Or are you more aware than you’re letting on?

After all, Eroch is the one Kaeya has been secretly investigating for the past year.

Looks like the inspector has caught on. About time. No doubt he wants to figure out just how much Kaeya knows—which is not much, unfortunately. He knows that Eroch has more than just Mondstadt’s best interests in mind; a Fatui spy like him would have just the opposite. But he is unsure what the man is up to, or who he even is.

He does, however, have an inkling. Several, even.

Inspector Eroch had been insistent on covering up the details of Master Crepus’s death. For the good of Mondstadt, he claimed, not wanting the citizenry to lose faith in the Knights of Favonius. Grand Master Varka had ultimately sided with him. It resulted in Diluc resigning his position and leaving the city a year ago.

Kaeya had kept an eye on the inspector after that. He knew there was more to the situation than just preserving Mondstadt’s trust in the Knights, and it had everything to do with the dangerous and evil power Master Crepus had harnessed. It was only a matter of figuring out what. And once he has all of the information...

Well, he knows what Diluc would do, once upon a time. Blazing with righteous fury, he’d take his findings to Grand Master Varka, insisting on Eroch’s arrest and expulsion from the Knights of Favonius. He would see it as retribution for how poorly his father’s death had been handled.

But Kaeya suffers from no delusions. Maybe he looked into Eroch because of Master Crepus. Maybe he wanted some kind of revenge for what happened. Maybe he yearned to atone for his past inaction. None of that means he has any heroic intentions.

If it serves his interests better, he won’t expose the inspector immediately. He will hoard his knowledge instead, keeping his cards close to his chest until it’s the right time to play them.

That is how he has always operated. Master Crepus's death and Diluc's departure have not changed that. For a brief, nonsensical moment, he wishes they had. Then common sense returns to him. A foolhardy sense of justice is of no use to him. He’ll leave that to Diluc.

While he extricates himself from his wayward thoughts, you turn away to clear the last few steps. “If it is important, surely he will try to approach you again,” you say.

“I look forward to it with bated breath.”

You scoff, rightfully skeptical, but don’t respond. Clearly, you are content to leave it at that.

He wonders at how easily you let the subject drop. Had you suspected something, you would have pushed to learn more, wouldn’t you? Now is as opportune a time as any; it’s late, he’s tired and drunk, and the both of you are alone. Does that make you oblivious, or an idiot, or crafty?

Having made it to the third floor, the two of you make your way down the hallway. His quarters are before your own, three doors on the left. He stops in front of his door, reaching into one of many hidden coat pockets to produce his key.

He glances at you. You have yet to leave for own your room. “You don’t have to hover at my side, you know,” he says with a touch of amusement. “I may be tipsy, but I am no longer in any danger of being harassed by ruffians or passing out in the streets. Unless you're secretly harbouring nefarious intentions towards me, Captain.”

“You’ll just have to wait and find out,” is your unruffled response.

Chuckling under his breath, he unlocks his door and lets it swing open wide. It’s dark inside, faint moonlight shining through the small window above his desk. Coupled with the sconces out in the hallway, however, there is enough light for him to stumble to his bedside without stubbing a single toe. He doesn’t bother to close the door on you; he has nothing to hide.

Kaeya knows what his quarters must look like to a stranger. They’re a mess, as if someone had searched them in a haste and not bothered to clean up afterward. The walls are bare, save for a map of Mondstadt that he’d hung up ages ago. Tomes of all sizes and loose leaves of parchment litter his oak desk, pushed up against a wall. A quill lies abandoned atop a half-finished note with ink drying on its nib. His closet door is cracked open, a discarded boot dissuading anyone from forcing it shut.

Yes, his quarters are a mess. But he knows exactly where everything is. Should someone actually attempt to search his things, he would know immediately. Not that they would find anything particularly damning. He isn’t foolish enough to leave important documents or sensitive information lying about—nothing he is unwilling to part with, anyway.

“Horrifying, but unsurprising,” he hears you mutter to yourself.

Kaeya doesn’t even consider slipping out of his ruined clothes or engaging you in further conversation. Now that he has made it back to his quarters, all he can think about is the sweet embrace of sleep. He sinks into his unmade bed, draping an arm over his face.

You continue to linger in the doorway. “You should change before you fall asleep.”

“Mhm.”

“You'll regret not doing so in the morning.”

“Uh-huh.” He still doesn’t move.

“Alberich. You stink of booze.”

“You sure know how to compliment a guy, Captain. I’m impressed.”

You sigh, long and loud. He waits to hear the door close behind you, only for you to walk up to his bedside. Your steps are slow, hesitant yet purposeful. He stiffens, immediately on-guard, but fights his instincts in order to remain still. What are you planning?

He feels you grip his boot. Metal jingles as you undo the buckle. Then you pry it off.

He lifts his arm to peer up at you. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” You set his boot on the ground, then move on to the other one. “If you won’t change, you should at least take off your shoes. You’ll dirty your sheets otherwise.”

Oh, you make it so easy for him to twist everything you say into an innuendo. For once he resists the urge. “You forgot something,” he says instead. He wiggles his sock-clad foot at you. Just to see if you will do it.

You grimace, swatting his leg away. “Absolutely not. I don’t want to be anywhere near those.”

So you say. But you’re taking his boots off for him out of your own volition. There is no need for you to do any of this. It’s not your duty to stop him from drinking himself into a stupor, or walk him back to headquarters unharmed, or all but tuck him into bed. Yet here you are.

What is it that you want? There have been plenty of opportunities for you to try and take advantage of his drunken state, but you have sidestepped every one. Frustration brews in his sternum.

“Do you do this for everyone who you hate?” he finds himself asking, tone purposely lighthearted.

You pause in your ministrations to stare at him. “What? I don't hate you.” At his disbelieving look, you insist, “I don’t. You have always been a pain to deal with, sure, but I never once felt that way.”

He smiles, unconvinced. “Not even when I insulted your dear old captain?”

“Insulted my... That was months ago, when we first met.” Despite your bewilderment, you take a moment to contemplate his question. “I was upset with you, yes. But now that I’ve had this position for some time...maybe your assessment wasn’t off. When I was lieutenant, I didn’t always see eye-to-eye with my captain. They were too set in their ways and scorned most criticism. I respected them, and still do, but I shouldn’t be ignorant of their faults.”

Your gaze meets his once more. “In a way, what you said that day led me to realize that. You weren’t badmouthing my captain; you didn’t have a vendetta or want to get a rise out of me. At least, I don’t think you did. You must have legitimate issues with their leadership, as a captain yourself.”

He watches you shrewdly. Your tone was even, your expression clear. He cannot detect any deception from you. Of course, that means little. Still, perhaps you’re telling the truth. Perhaps you don’t hate him after all.

A headache, newly formed, pounds at his temple. If he were more sober, he would be better equipped to handle such a revelation. He’ll have to come to a proper conclusion later.

You fiddle with the buckle on his remaining boot. “And what about you?”

“Hmm? What about me?”

“You have ample reason to look down on me. Most of the knights know that you aren’t just Cavalry Captain and Quartermaster. Your role is more important than that. Surely you would make a better...” you trail off, your jaw working silently.

Kaeya knows how that sentence ends. Surely you would make a better Captain of the Intelligence Team than me. It doesn’t come as a surprise.

Up until now, he thought he knew you well. You made it no secret you loathed him. You have never said so explicitly, but he has a talent for reading people. It’s a classic case of envy. He has seen it many times before. You compare yourself to him and find yourself wanting. It colours the way you interact with him; your words brusque, your gaze narrowed.

Not only did he insult your captain, but you consider him more capable than you. Your hatred makes sense. It’s predictable.

Or so he believed, until tonight.

“You know what, never mind. Forget I asked.” Uh-oh. Seems he took too long to respond. You busy yourself with unbuckling his boot, avoiding his eye.

If he were to be honest, there are many ways he could answer you. He thinks you are a better captain than your superior could ever hope to have been. He thinks you are a leader capable of inspiring undying loyalty in your officers. He thinks you have a deep, unflinching love for Mondstadt and its people. He thinks you constantly push yourself to greater heights, to the point it lights a fire in him as well.

He admits to none of those things, in the end.

“Give yourself some credit, Captain,” he murmurs. You glance over in surprise. He meets your gaze. For perhaps the first time in a while, he hopes his words sound sincere—not because he doesn’t mean them, but because he does. “I know the officers under your supervision think you’re a good leader. They wouldn’t want anyone else to take your place.” Certainly not someone like me.

Instead of reassuring you, however, his answer seems to do the opposite. You look frustrated. “That isn’t what I...” you trail off. You search his features, silent, before your brow furrows. “I can’t tell if you mean what you just said. Sometimes I’m not sure I ever can.”

He takes care not to allow his features to visibly harden. Of course you would doubt him, the one time he tries to be honest with you. What else did he expect? Maybe you don't hate him, maybe you never have, but that means little. You won’t ever fully trust him. To be fair, the feeling is mutual.

His mouth tastes unbearably bitter. It must be the wine.

“At this point, I’m willing to say just about anything if it’ll mean I can get some shut-eye.” He feels no satisfaction upon seeing your shoulders stiffen. He still manages to grin. “Well, Captain? Any other requests?”

“No,” you say. Then you tug off his boot with a brisk motion.

He stifles a yelp. “Hey, now! No need to be so rough.”

“My sincere apologies.” You set the boot down next to his other one, your lips thinned. “I should go. Wouldn’t want you to lose more sleep than you already have. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, after all.”

Talk about vindictive. Despite his irritation, he has to fight a smile. Knowing you, you’ll see it and take it the wrong way, as you usually do.

Having finished removing his boots, you turn and walk for the door without another word.

He’s struck with the odd urge to stop you. To reach out, take your hand in his, and tug you back. Not because he wants something from you, or needs to tell you something. He wishes you would stay a little longer, that’s all. Wants the silence to be filled by your voice instead of his thoughts.

Now he knows he’s had too much to drink. He’s contemplating such ridiculous things.

Before his addled mind can catch up and he can say something, apologize perhaps, you shut the door behind you. Your footsteps travel down the hallway, slightly hurried. The door to your quarters creaks open then closed.

He’s too late. It’s for the best.

Kaeya lies back and stares up at the ceiling. His vision swims, as if he’s adrift at sea. Closing his eye only makes it worse.

His mind pores over the events of the day. Investigating Eroch, remembering Master Crepus and Diluc, visiting the tavern, running into you. He feels restless, pulled in several directions at once.

With a harsh exhale, he rises to his feet and locks his door. Then he begins his nightly ritual.

His pauldron is first to go. It hits the floor with a dull noise. Then he peels off his gloves and tosses them on the desk. The burns on his hands have long since healed, but he still deals with numbness now and then. Not many know they even exist; he doesn’t want anyone taking advantage of a potential weakness. His eyepatch follows closely after.

He removes the Cryo Vision from his belt last. He stares at it, its blue glow washing over his scarred palm and turning his skin a sickly brown hue. If it’s been a year since Master Crepus’s death, it has been about a year since he was gifted a Vision as well. The sight of it has been a hard reminder ever since. Of how he’d won a difficult battle. Of how he’d finally revealed the truth. Of how he can never speak it again.

He tucks the Vision under his pillow, then collapses back into bed. An odd sensation fills him, as it does every time he completes this ritual. It’s like he has taken off every scrap of armour he has and foolishly exposed himself to danger, despite being alone in the stillness of his quarters.

Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling, he closes his eyes and waits for sleep to take him under.

It never does.

[thepeakygurl]

Well I'm here. I wanted to tell you what a sucker I'm for some good fluff Tommy Shelby fluff..

I had this idea at the back of my mind where the Tommy married the reader as a formality because Polly had been constantly nagging him to get Charles a mother.(Like after Grace dies). Now he makes it clear that he cannot give her "love" and she should not expect it but she should be a dutiful wife (I know, patriarchy) and take care of Charlie. Reader decides to give the marriage a try.. and thinks it's not always love that builds marriage. As long as Tommy keeps her safe, it's fine.. It's only when the reader gets pregnant with Tommy's kid, the way her body starts changing, Tommy's heart starts changing as well and he starts falling in love with her as her pregnancy progresses..

I'm sorry if this is too much. 🙊🥺

A/N: I’m so in love with this one, I really, really hope you like it!🥺 thank you for requesting this amazing piece✨ honestly this one gave me so much life that I could wrote a whole series out of it!

Another Day

Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1,834

When Grace died, Thomas knew that a part of himself went with her. Part of his heart and his capacity of loving followed the woman who owned that same heart into the abyss of death. And he was fine with it, the only reasonable thing to do was to let his heart rest next to his beloved wife, that was alright with him.

Everyday that went by Thomas felt as his life were slowly drowning into a whirlwind of inconsolable sorrow. Nevertheless, he was trying his best for Charlie and he was darned proud of how such a sweet boy he happened to become. So mannered and so caring that sometimes he almost failed to believe he was his son, this was his only spiral of joy. Every time Ada would come around with Karl, Charlie wouldn’t help, but ask about his mommy and why him and daddy were always alone. And he was right, Thomas and Charlie were always going to be alone in a way, that thought was so dreadful and achingly painful that one morning he did what he had to do. Polly spent the last few weeks begging him to meet the daughter of this friends of hers, single and behaved, What more could you ask for? Polly would always end up saying. A question he would have promptly answer with Grace.

The first time he laid eyes on you, he couldn’t help but think how pretty you were. He was a man with pride, but he also had eyes and he would never say something that he doesn’t mean so he said it “You are a very beautiful woman” in a tone so cold and unemotional that made you laugh, clearly he was forced into this meeting as well. Marriage was the last thing in your list: Travel and study the art of painting that was your dream and see it being crushed by the economical need of your family almost crushed you a well. Being the respectful and obedient wife of Thomas Shelby was never part of your plan, but you weren’t selfish enough to say no and let your family sink in debt. And while Polly was taking your mom’s arm and pulling her aways from you two for some intimacy, you look at time a stare that he didn’t give back and said “Next time be more convincing.”

The wedding came soon enough, everyone on your side of the family was happy, excited and hopeful for the future that this union would bring. The Shelby’s on the other side, they weren’t allowed to celebrate as this wasn’t a marriage of love, but need. A small wedding, no reception. You never really thought about marriage, but somehow it made you sad how so careless this man was. How cruel he was to care so little about something that for you could have a meaning.

On the night of your wedding Thomas didn’t talking much, if anything at all. Some candles were lit on the side of the bed, they smelled nice you remember, but nothing could ease up the tension in that room. You in your night gown standing in front of him as he close the door behind him while he enters the room. His eyes locked in yours but it’s hard to tell whether he wants this or it’s just a duty. A step after another he finally was in front of you, so close that he could easily hear your heart racing on your chest. His hand slowly reached your cheek and he smiled a small imperceptible smile “Love is a tricky thing. From this night on I will respect you, protect you, but love...” he eyes were now somewhere else, they were still looking at you, but you could tell they were elsewhere. That was enough for you, or so you thought.

Time passed and the only thing that made those miserable day bearable was Charlie. You saw in him a lot of Thomas, but there was also a side of him that you didn’t quite get, probably from his mom. Grace a woman that was still an important presence in the house, in their life. Charlie would sometimes stare at the paint of him, Thomas and Grace and would point and her, asking where she is. You would then proceed to sit next to his and point at his chest close to where his heart his “She is here. She’s in here everyday, even if you don’t see her” you would say smiling at him. She was beautiful, so beautiful and so much loved that you would pity yourself, a resentment that caused you to be sickened by yourself, at some point in time you realised that you started to compete with the death and that feeling brought so much shame that you decided it was time to get back at your art. So you did, painting and looking after Charlie. When the Sun would disappear in order for the Moon to gloriously take its place, Thomas would come home, sometimes even later than that. He would kiss Charlie on the forehead, then he would smile at you. After all expectations, Thomas had no problem in engaging in a conversation with you, however he never talked to you as his wife, more like a newfound acquaintance and that again was alright with you.

Then one day you found out you were pregnant. You had all the signs, morning sickness, late period, body changing, but a part of you didn’t want it to be true. You were so afraid of bring to Earth a creature that was not made out of love that you took quite enough time to tell Thomas, the enough time it took you to start showing and made it impossible for you to hide it longer. Your heart was racing as fast as the horses that Thomas so much loved, when one night he grabbed you by your hand and pulled you closer to him, not a moment of love, but a need. And while a hand slowly caressed your arms, the other was finding his way under your night gown but stopped as soon as he felt your stomach. Surprised as it was he went from looking at your body to staring at your face, while you were nervously biting your lips “I’m pregnant” you said in a whisper. His hand fell down as soon as those words left your mouth and he quickly stepped back. He didn’t want another child, not like this, but he was not going to say it. In fact he didn’t say anything and went to bed.

Weeks after that Thomas didn’t touch you, or talked to you. He even barely looked at you. He felt as if he was betraying Grace, as this baby could bring an end to the connection he had with her. He wasn’t ready for any of that, but neither were you and so the hostility between you two grew. Charlie however was super excited to have a little brother or sister. Seeing his son so excited about the news made him think that maybe that was such a bad news, after all that’s what he wanted for the both of them, not being alone.

And the baby was growing, strong as ever. Polly and Ada started to come visit more and you liked that, that made you feel less alone.

“Don’t worry he will come along someday” Polly would always say to you and you would always smile repeating yourself that you didn’t need his love, that this was a marriage without love, but now with this baby inside you, you couldn’t help but thinking if he was ever going to love your baby.

Thomas was now at home more often “I do not have so many employees for nothing now eh?” He would say every time you would wake up in the morning and see him already on his feet preparing Charlie for the day. The truth was that Thomas knew you had trouble sleeping since the baby, he woke up sometimes during the night to see you walking around the room while moaning in pain. He knew how stressful it could be to not having enough sleep, carrying a baby and providing for another one, so he decided to stick around for a while. Seeing your daily routine, how you would play with Charlie, sit in front of the painting of hi late mom, telling him those kind word and seeing you meticulously give time to your own passion, that did something to him. Perhaps it was just time what he needed, perhaps love was something that he could feel again, because now every time he looked at you, he felt alive again.

“What now? Are you going to do the laundry as well?” You jokingly said while you were having breakfast.

He looked and you and chuckled “No, I pay other people to do that. But you are more than welcome to do it yourself, it’s money that I can save” and as he saw you rolling your eyes in response he smiled “I got you something” he said talking a little bag under the table and placing it in front of you.

You almost gasped in surprise, Thomas Shelby caring to waste a bit of his time to buy you something? Not even your birthday made him turn around like that. You were almost scolding yourself out loud for how much you were smiling at that gesture. You carefully opening the bag to reveal a pair of white baby shoes, the most precious thing he could ever get you. Thomas looked at you with the same big smile that was on your lips and he hold your hand, he didn’t say much after, but your hand on his meant something for the both of you.

You gave birth to the most beautiful and precious baby girl. Polly and Ada were at tears when they first saw her and you could tell to have seen even Arthur shredding some tears and being scolded by John. You even shredded some tears. The love that you thought you couldn’t get and that you were never going to experience, it was all there in this tiny little girl. Charlie was absolutely in love with her, so much that it was hard to convince him that he was to big to sleep in the crib with her. You were looking at your baby girl, sleeping peacefully and there it was, the most beautiful piece of art you ever made. While this thought slid through your mind, Thomas wrapped his arms around your waste in a hug from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder and he smiled looking at his daughter “So darned beautiful” he whispered while looking at her, he was completely astonished and happy, so darned happy. “You both are” he then said holding you a bit tighter than before and this time, you believed him.

[krabmeat]

heyyyy, just wanteddd too seee ifff youu cooulddd writteee sommmeee karlll x time!travel readerrrrr, itt coouuullddd beee flufff orr anggssttt. whateeeveerrr youuu wantttt :] (morreeeee iiinnnffooo: reeaddderrr allsooo hasss the abillitttyyy to time travelll and karlll and themmm manageeedd tooo bump intoo each otherrr innn the innbetweeeennnn. bothhh offff themm telll storries aboutttt theiir adventuresss tooo one anotherrr and arreee having a gennuinely goooddd timme! tttheeeyyyy meeet agggainn in theeee lllooosssttt cittttyyyy offff mizzzuuuuu annnnddd youuu caannn dooo whatteeeveerrrr affftteerrr thhhatttt)

sorrryyy fooor myyyy tyyyypingggg ssstyyyleeeee (cccaaaannnn i beeeeeee "beeeee annnooonnnnn" bbbutttt wiithouttt theeee draggged outtt letttterrrssss? I ussseeeeeee beeeee/aviannnn/hiveeeee/boottttleeeesssss prrroooonnnnnouuunnsssss)

𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚜

𝙺𝚊𝚛𝚕 𝚡 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚛!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌)

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜: Karl(Isaac), Ranboo(Charles), Dream(Ranbob), BadBoyHalo(Benjamin), Quackity(Cletus)

𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜: they/them

𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: brief mention of suggestive content, death, murder, explosions, glass breaking, cursing, weapons, water

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎:

I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS HOLY CRAP!!! firstly, welcome "bee anon" (bee/avian/hive/bottles) to my account! its lovely to have you here and thank you so much for the request! i hope this adds up to what you imagined and i hope you stick around! :]]

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

The In-Between. Any entity that normally roamed around there knew the place well. If you visited there, you visited often. Karl regularly roamed around the in between. The only face he saw there was his. Karl’s from different timelines traveled to the In-Between as well, but ever since he had found those ominous books that told him to steer clear of the “alternate Karl’s”, that’s exactly what he did. So seeing a new face there while roaming the brick-white palace startled him.

The stranger didn’t even get the chance to introduce themselves when Karl briskly grabs them by the arm and starts running to the room under the tree. 

“Woah-! Wait are you-“

But before the mystery person can finish their sentence, Karl cuts them off as quickly as possible.

“SSHHHH! Please hold on a second, I’ll let you know when you can talk.”

The mystery person nods and stays silent as they make their way under the big tree.

Once they arrive, Karl flops to the ground exhausted from the running.

“It’s the safest down here, no one can see what we’re doing. But that’s besides the point! Who the heck are you and how did you get here?!”

The mystery person slides down against the wall and onto the floor besides him. They think for a second, trying to recall how they had arrived. 

“I’m Y/n, I’m a time traveler and somehow I got HERE instead of the place I was planning on going to. I was walking around and I saw a bunch of the alternate versions of you around the place but I figured that if one of them were to- yknow, drag me away and under the tree, that’d be the one I’d need to talk to that isn’t a fake.” 

Karl nods in understanding before he realizes. 

“Wait- how did you know about the safety room being under the tree? Or the ‘alternate’ me’s not actually being from other realities?”

Y/n looks at Karl with a deadpan expression and leans back into the wall. They swing their arms out in front of them for dramatic effect.

“Well duh, I have an in between! You aren’t the only one, yknow. Did you get a bunch of those creepy, contradicting books from all around the place? The one that told me the useful information was in all caps, and the other one was talking about how great the place is and constantly used smiles. Not the traditional one though, like, it used the brackets instead of the parenthesis.”

Karl shoots up in surprise, they had gotten those too?! He was never aware that there were other time travelers that existed, let alone were able to get into other peoples in between! He nods, eager to ask them questions.

“So, where were you planning on going? You said you didn’t mean to come here, right?”

Y/n nods, remembering where they were trying to go previously.

“Yeah! I forgot the name, but I know that it’s some place underwater. An abandoned city or something. Enough about me though, one of the main reasons we both time travel is to tell stories, right? So tell me about the places you’ve been! Also, what’s your name? You got mine but I never got yours.”

“Ah, right- I’m Karl-!”

Karl turned around and flipped up his hoodie to show his light gray initials embedded onto the white hoodie. Y/n had a long, white robe with vine-like accents on the hems. The ends of the sleeves had Y/n’s initials on them as well.

“Well… the first place I’ve ever visited was this place I like to call….’The Town That Went Mad’! Ever play the video game ‘Town Of Salem’? It was basically that and I was like the host of it, sorta.”

Karl proceeded to explain the different personas and people to Y/n, there were people like Cornelius the Wise, Helga, Miles Memeington, Mayor Jimmy- Helgas husband, Robin the Orphan, Bob (he’s a builder, yknow), Catboy (very deep voice, no one knows why but it’s a strange contrast to the ears and tail. Mutant or furry??), and Jack the Farmer. He explained from how the orphan had tricked the entire town that he was a murderer when he was instead the Jester, to explaining what the word “dunderhead” meant in Helgas context after explaining how she ruthlessly and openly got her husband executed and then soon proceeded to sleep with Bob. 

Both of them were crying tears of laughter, listening and recalling their own stories. By the time Karl had finished telling his story, Y/n was on the ground wheezing from how funny they thought the story was.

“And your telling me they all just, DIED?! That’s so anticlimactic, I love it!”

It’s been maybe 3 hours or so of them discussing stories and laughing. As much as these two travel across the fabrics of the universe, they would have never imagined being able to finally tell someone about their travels and experiences! 

Y/n then started talking about a Sky Dynasty that lived up in the clouds in a kingdom called The Kingdom Of Synnefa. When they had dropped in, they would have fallen straight through the clouds if a kind man by the name of Galen hadn’t found them hanging off a building ledge for their dear life! Galen let Y/n drop into his wagon and he took them to get Skywalkers, shoes specifically make for walking on clouds. 

Y/n had then explained how a very old looking man who looked to be a pig hybrid approached them, asking them if they were new. Apparently the old pig man was the guardian of the Grand Library, saying how he adored the Kingdoms Greek history and fables. The funny part is that his name is Icarus, a very unfortunate demise that Icarus had in the past but apparently that was a sensitive subject for Icarus and he would get very upset if anyone brought it up.

Another 3 hours went by of this time Y/n telling their stories of their travels to The Kingdom Of Synnefa! Both Karl and Y/n were having a wonderful time chatting with one another about both the confusing rivalries between the carnivores and herbivores of the kingdom, as well as how the kingdom was slowly dying due to the mass amounts of pollution damage the “ground dwellers” have been inflicting on The Kingdom Of Synnefa.

Soon though, Y/n had to jump into their next travels- as well as Karl. They said their goodbyes to each other, both obviously upset about having to stop the fun and interesting chat. 

“Look, when I leave I’ll figure out how I got in, okay? If I don’t figure it out, it’s been a real pleasure Karl Jacobs. Anyways, off to the abandoned water city I go!” 

Karl nods and waves his hands frantically at them, eager and hopeful for Y/n to visit him again. 

“See ya around Y/n!”

Y/n then proceeds to take out a small book and pen from inside their robe. They open it and quickly scribble something down before closing it and putting away. Y/n gives Karl a last friendly smile before disappearing in a snap. Before that, they manage to give him one last message.

“Hopefully!”

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

Isaac wakes up in his bed by the sea docks. Meeting what seems to be his friends and roommates, Benjamin, Cletus, Charles and Monroe. Distant arguing can be heard from the docks. One of the voices sound oddly more familiar than the others to Isaac. Isaac walks over to the dock and finds two people arguing. 

“What’s going on here? Why are you guys arguing so early in the morning!”

The two people stand up and point at each other.

“MONROE DOESNT GIVE ME BACK THE F*CKING FISHING ROD!”

“BECAUSE THE LAST TIME YOU CAUGHT A FISH YOU KILLED IT, CLETUS!”

Monroe? Their voice sounds oddly similar to someone else’s, but Isaac can’t quite put his finger on it. He looks down ignoring the minor situation, when he sees a small leather book- then it clicks. Monroe is Y/n! But before Isaac confronts Monroe (Y/n), he picks up the small leather book. It isn’t the one that Y/n had when they left Karl’s In-Between, but it instead had what looked like the directions and coordinates for The Lost City Of Mizu!

“CHARLES! GET THE F*CK OVER HERE SO YOU CAN GUIDE US TO THESE COORDS!!”

Charles walks out of the shared dockside house alongside Benjamin, I hand him the book and start heading for the boats when Monroe stops me. They whisper loud enough so that I can only hear.

“Karl? Is that you?”

“Y/n?! You recognize me!”

We get on the same boat while the others get on theirs as well, and set off following Charles to The Lost City Of Mizu.

“Okay first, we call each other Isaac and Monroe, okay? Don’t break character.”

“I don’t even know HOW I remember! Usually I don’t until I leave!”

“Well that doesn’t matter right now, just try to act like Isaac and not Karl.”

And that’s what they did. Karl was Isaac and Y/n was Monroe. 

Once they found The Lost City Of Mizu, they met a man named Ranbob. Ranbob was the last resident of the city, and offered to show the group around. Rooms and rooms of full on history! It was like a huge museum filled with information of a place Ranbob called The Dream SMP, and Karl and Y/n were eating it up. Ranbob had suddenly disappeared, but the group didn’t pay much mind of it as they were trying to get into the Tree Dome. 

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

The Tree Dome room was as marvelous as it was big. The tree was absolutely beautiful, and was also the supply of oxygen for the now abandoned city- though the tree still looks to be thriving tremendously. The group spots a chest on the tree and nominates Cletus to go and retrieve it. Branch after branch and he’s finally up there! But soon after fallen and blown into oblivion because in suddenly appears Ranbob with loads and loads on TNT. Placing it all around the tree and the room, all he says is

“No one survives when they come here.”

And 

BOOM!

He sets off the TNT in the tree, Cletus. Before he died, Cletus luckily tossed the group the book he essentially died for so before reading it, the group ran out of the room and shut the iron doors.

The rest of the group had also found a book that had a key to a “Secret Room”, and very soon after they were making they’re way down a certain “Secret Room” only to be met with another book and a room to the side full of lava parkour. Apparently the last person to try and make it past the lava parkour failed, but they know the key or next clue HAS to be there, so Benjamin is nominated to do the lava parkour, failing and falling into the lava on the final step. Bravely after watching his friend die, Isaac (Karl) decides he’s gonna take a go at the parkour, and succeeds! He gets the key and directions to the final room before they can escape and heads to the final room with Monroe and Charles.

The final room is...strange, to say the least. Black brick walls and flooring, the walls lined with diamond armour and weapons. At the end of the small hallway rested what looked like a terrarium. One of the walls were made of glass so they could look in, and what they saw wasn’t what they were expecting. A normal flat biome with grass blocks, a mini cave in the corner that had a few gold ores in it if you looked hard enough, and the strangest of all was the statue of a looming, smiling, green figure in the very center. 

“Everyone had a person they idolized.”

Ranbob suddenly appears, interrupting the 3 taking in the room.

“Ranbob? Dude what the f*ck?!”

Y/n reaches for one of the diamond axes lining the wall, when suddenly Ranbob unsheathes a netherite sword. 

“Don’t touch anything.”

That’s enough to get Y/n to back up from both the weapons AND Ranbob. 

“How are you even here? We thought you DIED!”

But Ranbob didn’t seem to be bothered nor wanted to be bothered by such minuscule questions, and instead walked towards the glass of the terrarium. 

“This is my idol. His name is Dream.”

“Was he a good person..?”

Karl questioned hesitantly. He didn’t wanna anger or irritate Ranbob after seeing what he said to Y/n.

“Hmm, yes, he’s a good person. Depending on what you think.”

Karl walks up to the glass and shatters an opening with his elbow. He, Charles and Y/n step into the terrarium, observing the statue and its habitat more closely. But they didn’t get the chance to say much more. Ranbob unsheathes his sword for the last time, trapping everyone inside the terrarium. 

“No one makes it out alive.”

GASP!

“What the- where are we?”

…

“Y/n…? Y/n! Your back!”

[marleyrose17]

Almost Paradise ( Owen Patrick Joyner Fic )

Hey everyone! This story is gonna be a Owen Patrick Joyner story and I will be pairing the reader with Owen, so I’ll put Y/N anytime the main character is mentioned or is talking. This is my first story since high school so please bear with me as the writing will slowly become better the more I write. I hope all you fellow Owen simps like myself like this story. FYI this story takes place if COVID 19 never existed. Please check out my best friend Sydney ( @imsydneywalker) for cute Charlie Fics. Love Yall.

Summary: Y/N just turned 22 and decided to make a spontaneous trip to L.A California USA from Dieppe,New Brunswick, Canada to visit her best friend Charlie Gillespie for her 22nd birthday present to herself. He doesn’t know she’s coming, hence the surprise. But little does she know would she get a little surprise of her own on her way to America.

Chapter 1: Someday

House outfit: https://urstyle.fashion/styles/2814065

*Week before Reader’s birthday* 2021

Y/N’s thoughts: It has been forever since I’ve last seen my best friend Charles Jeffrey Gillespie or how I like to call him Arlo *as I hold onto the necklace he gave me for my 15th birthday*. Weird nickname I know, but I’ve been calling him that since kindergarten and I’m not changing it. It’s almost my 22nd birthday so I felt like I should treat myself to a present of seeing my best friend for a little while. Momma bear doesn’t know yet but I don’t think she’ll care as much since she loves Charlie as one of her own kids, so just taking a trip cross country shouldn’t be too hard to tell her. Right? Let’s find out.

*Y/N walks down to the kitchen from her bedroom*

“Hey mami,” Y/N says as she sits on one of the barstools, popping a green grape and dipping it into nutella into her mouth.

“Yes Y/N nickname?” Y/N’s mom says in a what do you want tone, while finishing cleaning up the kitchen after dinner.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“I already know you want something. You never come back downstairs after dinner unless you’re getting a snack or you want something. I’m your mother, remember.”

“Damn, that predictable huh? Anyways, yes I wanted to ask you something or more like tell you something. So I was thinking for my 22nd birthday I could possibly fly down to America and see your adopted son for a couple weeks. You know I’ve been wanting to move down to L.A so why not go for my birthday. I’d obviously stay at Arlo’s, money shouldn’t be an issue since I’ve been saving plus birthday money from past years. Sooo?” Y/N finishes saying while looking at her mom with puppy eyes.

“You already bought your plane ticket didn’t you?” your mom says while staring at you with one eyebrow raised.

“.... maybe…. no actually, I wanted to see what you’d say first before splurging.” Y/N  says while looking down at the bowl of grapes and looks up again to smile cheeky at her mom.

Your mom rolls her eyes and laughs. “ Sure, why not. Do you want me to call Maman J so she can tell Charlie?” your mom asks.

“No no, I want it to be a surprise. It’s kind of a birthday present to myself since Arlo decided to be like “ I wanna be an actor and blah blah blah”. You say mimicking him.

“Alright, well as an early birthday present, I’ll buy your ticket. Should I make it a round trip or a one way?”

“Ummm make it a one way trip, I’ll let you know when I want to come home. You know Arlo, he always has some random hiking trip he wants to take, and knowing him he might drag me to one of those trips” you say rolling your eyes.

“No problem. You better go upstairs and start packing.” your mom says.

*You dip one last green grape into nutella and pop it into your mouth before you hop off the bar stool to give your mom a kiss* “You’re the best mami!”

*You run back to your room and start planning the whole trip*

*5:30pm One day before reader’s birthday and your flight*

*you're sitting on your bed finishing up some last minute packing, when you hear a knock at your door.*

“Come in.” Y/N says without turning around.

“Hey hun.” your mom says.

*you turn around to face your mom* “Hey mami, whats up?” *you say while sitting on top of your luggage trying to close it*

Your mom chuckles, “Here is your plane ticket for your flight, it's at 5:55am, you have a connecting flight to Oklahoma City, Oklahoma which will have a connecting flight to L.A.X.”, your mom says handing you the tickets. “So you better finish packing and get some rest.”

*You reach for the tickets while trying not to fall of your luggage* “Awesome, thanks mami.”

“No problem, just get some rest ok. I will drive you to the airport.” your mom says while walking out of your room.

“Ok!” you yell through the door. *You finally got the luggage to close* “YES!” you say standing up on the edge of your bed but then proceed to fall off your bed in the process which leads to a loud thud hitting the floor. “I’M OK!” you yell before your mom asks.

You place your luggages and carry ons by your door and start getting ready for bed. You look into the mirror one last time and stare at the picture of you and Charlie at the waterfront, ( https://www.instagram.com/p/B-suC_WF8Cu/) ( just pretend its yall, I know its like his cousin or friend)

“L.A.X I’ll see you tomorrow.” you say to yourself before walking to bed.

*Reader’s birthday* 3:00am

Airport Outfit: https://urstyle.fashion/styles/2813992 (girl on the left is what your hair looks like)

*your phone goes off at 3:00 am with the song I See Fire by Ed Sheeran playing from your phone softly.*

*You groan annoyingly wondering why you’re up so early, when you realize it is your 22nd birthday and you have a flight to catch in two hours. You spring out of bed, pop your airpods in and blair The OtherSide from The Greatest Showman and begin getting ready for your long day of flying*

*Dancing towards your bathroom, you turn on your shower to warm up and start brushing your teeth. You lay out the outfit you will be wearing to the airport on your bed, take out your headphones and head into the shower.*

*20 mins later. You hear a knock on your bathroom door*

“Almost done sweetie?” your mom asks.

“Yes, I’m just finishing up, I’ll be down soon.” you say through the door.

*Because you’re going to the airport you didn’t put too much makeup on, just enough to make yourself look kind of awake on the flights. You put your hair in a messy bun, put on your jean jacket, take one last look in the mirror before you shut off the light and head out.*

*You look around your room to make sure you grab any last minute items for your carry on. Especially making sure you have your Beats, charger, spare hair elastics and gum. You go to grab your luggage when you realize your mom already did and placed them in the car. Best mom ever. You grab your guitar case and your bag and head out.*

*Skip the car ride, you’re already at the airport*

“You’re sure you have everything right?” your mom asks while taking the stuff out of the car.

“Yes, I promise, I have everything I need. If I forgot anything important I will call you and have it shipped to Arlo’s.” you say while closing the trunk of the car.

“Alright, have a safe trip hun, please be safe and try not to get Charlie in too much trouble ok?” your mom says while hugging you goodbye.

*GASP* “ HEY! I’m a good noodle, Arlo’s the one who dared me to jump in the fountain at the mall. You know me I could never pass up a good dare.” you say while breaking the hug.

“Haha, yes I know which leads you to getting sick. Remember, it was winter.” your mom retorts back.

“ Yeah yeah I know, I’m still a good noodle though.” You chuckle while grabbing your stuff again.

Your mom shakes her head, “Go before you miss your flight silly.” She says while turning you around.

“Ok, ok I get it you want me gone.” You say laughing while walking towards the automatic doors.

“OH SWEETIE!” your mom calls out.

You turn around. “Yes?” you ask

“Happy Birthday!” your mom yells in front of everybody.

You stare at her like really. “Thanks mami. I love you too”

*You walk inside the airport and walk towards the check in line to check in all your luggages.*

*Skip to you’re already on the plane before take off.*

*You check your phone for the time, plug in your Beats, place them on and hit shuffle before. You look out the window watching the sun just barely starting to rise before you close it and begin to read your book, for the next 4 hours.*

*4 hours later*

*You finish up one of your books, you pull off your headphones just in time to hear the pilot announce that you guys are about to land. You place your book and headphones back into your bag and prepare to land.*

* You get off the plane and check the time on your phone to notice that your connecting flight is almost here and you begin to panic. You check your ticket and realize that of course your flight is on the other end of the terminal, so you begin to run and book it to the other end, hoping you’ll make it on time.*

“Excuse me! Sorry! Sorry! Excuse me!” you say as you weave through airport traffic.

*Half way through your running spree you look down at your phone again to make sure you didn’t miss your flight when you feel your arm get tugged from behind you. You notice one of yours and someone else’s luggage clipped each other by the wheels and they both go flying. “Sorry, my bad.” you say as you grab a luggage, not even looking up to see who you collided with and go back to your sprinting.*

“Yes!” you say to yourself as you make it to your gate. The flight hasn’t boarded yet so you take a seat and wait for your row to be called. You get to your gate, hand the lady your ticket and proceed to board your flight.

*You place your carry-on luggage into the overhead bin and take your seat, when you notice a very sweaty guy just barely making it onto the flight. You chuckle to yourself.*

*3 hours later*

“Alright passengers, we will be landing very shortly. The weather today is 89 degrees, partly cloudy, and 40% of humidity. Welcome to Los Angeles, California passengers.” the pilot announces over the intercom.

*You place your headphones back on, and calmly this time walk off the plane and head towards baggage claim*

*As you’re waiting your favorite song Someday by Max Schneider starts to play. You begin to sway back and forth, humming to the tune when you then feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn around to see who it was and begin to stare at him weirdly wondering why you can’t hear the guy talk*

“Oh shit, my bad. Forgot.” you say as you take off your headphones to actually hear what the guy was saying.

“It's cool, all I was saying was that I was sorry for colliding with you back in Oklahoma. I wasn’t paying attention, I was in a rush and didn’t see you. It wasn’t until after that I noticed that the gate was in the opposite direction.” A dirty blonde guy explains to me.

“Oh no, it was totally my fault, I should have been looking up instead of on my phone. I guess we were both in a rush. But hey, I like your jean jacket. Pretty dope.” I say to him.

“Right back atcha.” he retorts.

*Awkwardly stands next to each other waiting for your luggage to arrive*

“Welp, that's my luggage. Have fun in L.A.” The guy says as he grabs his other luggage and heads towards the exit.

“Thanks, you too crash buddy.” you say back.

*you grab your luggages from the conveyor belt and pull to the side so you’re not in the way of people. You go to open one of your luggages to make sure nothing spilled on the flights/crash over, when you notice that the things in one of the luggages isn’t yours.*

“Shit, I must have accidentally switched luggages with that guy back in Oklahoma.” you say to yourself as you look around to hopefully see if he is still around.

*You close up the luggage, and begin to gather your things and head towards the exit, hoping the guy hasn’t left the airport yet. You get to the exit, head outside and don’t see the guy you bumped into.*

“Damn it!” you say defeated, “How will I ever get my stuff back? What a way to start off my birthday.”

*You get an uber and head towards Arlo’s place*

[blackleatherjacketz]

We Dug Coal Together: Title of Your Sex Tape: Final Chapter

Justified x Brooklyn 99

Summary: Epilogue

Featuring: Boyd Crowder, Jake Peralta

Word Count: 1508

Read the rest of the story HERE!

The cement bricks once painted a soft white were long since stained yellow through years of wear and tear, cigarette smoke and orange uniforms brushing against them. The distant jingling of chains connecting wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle and person to person rang loudly in the halls, creating a soft chorus of hushed voices and metal. The buzzer of the doors unlocking came in quick and offbeat, throwing the usual song off as Boyd walked through them, hands pressed together as if in prayer.

He nodded to each of the security guards as he passed them by before standing quietly in the doorway as his visitor waited patiently. He stopped in his tracks, his heart skipping a beat before it fell into the acid of his empty stomach, unsure as to how he should proceed.

“Please,” his visitor begged, standing up from his seat. “I know you don’t want to see me, but…” he trailed off, “Please just hear me out!”

“Come on, Crowder!” The officer closest to him bellowed, forcing his sneakers to squeak against the floor as he pushed him forward.

Boyd complied, as if he had any other choice, and sat down at the table in front of him with a practiced smile. “Why, Detective Peralta, I didn’t expect to see you ever again.”

Jake smiled, his youthful grin betrayed by his dark and heavy eyes as they stared down at his hands. “I know,” he started. “I’m sorry, I know I put down that I was Givens, but it was the only way I could guarantee you’d see me.”

Boyd clasped his fingers together, staring at him in silence as if he wasn’t upset that this boy got his hopes up to see Raylan again. “And what is it, prey tell, that is so important you drove all the way here to see little old me? You know I couldn’t have murdered anyone else, considering I’ve been locked up in this fine establishment for the past year.” He lifted his chained wrists in demonstration.

“I’m not here for that, I’m here for…” Jake looked at the security guard standing next to the door, lowering his voice as he leaned forward. “I’m here to talk about my girlfriend… Danielle Jones?” He finally looked at him, his eyebrows raised so comically that Boyd smiled for the first time in a year.

“Right,” he nodded, getting the hint. “Danielle, I remember her now.”

“I thought she was dead.” Jake admitted, remembering the absolute sorrow that took over him when he found out Boyd had killed Doug Judy. He remembered walking out of the precinct that day without saying anything to Charles or Rosa, or even offering an explanation to Captain Holt. He remembered stepping aimlessly into traffic, his mind too full of empty static to determine which direction he was going until Charles and Amy found him in the middle of Battery Park waiting for the Statue of Liberty ferry. He hadn’t even bought himself a ticket, or eaten anything in the past six hours as he sat on the bench watching the pigeons devour a half-eaten hot dog on the ground.

He imagined Doug Judy’s corpse, lifeless and unable to feel the bugs and bacteria eating away at his body in that apartment Jake was forbidden to enter. How did he feel when Crowder betrayed him in that final moment? Did he feel any fear or pain, or did the bullet grant him mercy by putting his lights out before he knew what was happening?

Jake had obsessed over these thoughts for months, taking a leave of absence requested by Amy until he was finally ready to come back to work with a clear head. Weeks of mandatory therapy had helped him ease back into the work environment, but he found himself still tearing up at odd moments, even more so than before. He knew then that healing from this wasn’t going to be a linear process, that it was going to take a lot longer than he thought. It kept him up at night, wondering how long he would have to talk about his feelings with Sheila in the office until he could go a single day without thinking about Doug.

“Is there any information contradicting that belief, Detective Peralta?” Boyd tilted his head, those eyes that so often instilled fear in Jake now giving off an odd sense of warmth.

“She wrote me a letter last week telling me what you did for her.” Jake remembered opening the letter only a few days ago, it being addressed to Jelly from Peanut Butter with no return address. It was written in Doug’s handwriting, the messy letters all hunched in together as they spelled out what happened before Boyd and the U.S. Marshals had entered his life.

It explained that Doug and Boyd had become friends in prison, despite their differences and the rising threats against Doug. Boyd had done his best to protect him while they were locked up together, but the numbers had grown against him. It wasn’t safe for him inside anymore, so they hatched a plan to fake his death in New York City where most of his contacts remained.

The letter didn’t go into any detail about how they got both their DNA into the crime scene, or a body into the apartment. Doug knew him well enough not to give him any names to follow up on, figuring it was easier to maintain plausible deniability of the situation, even if it did happen a year ago.

“Like I said before, I’ve been locked up in here this whole time.” He winked with the eye furthest away from the security guard, gleaming that thousand watt smile of his.

“Right,” Jake nodded, remembering the picture Doug included in the letter as proof of life. He looked like he was somewhere warm, a recent newspaper in his hands with the date visible as his fingers covered up the location, just in case Jake chose to keep it. “I’m sorry for the whole…” he motioned as if he was pressing a gun into his forehead.

“No apology needed, son.” He put his hands into the air, palms facing forward. “Although I do regret the things I had to say to you in that alleyway, Jacob.” He called him by his first name, his words no longer sounding rehearsed. “I'm sure you understand it’s what was necessary, given the situation.”

Jake lowered his fake hand gun to his side. “I do.” He paused and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a bag of Werther’s Originals before setting it down on the table. “Danielle told me that you always talked about these, that your mom used to give them to you on Saturdays when you finished all your chores for the week.”

Boyd smiled wide, his surprise pushing him backwards in his chair. “Did she, now?” He laughed, tilting his head as he looked down at the candy. “That jubilant son of a bitch really does miss me, doesn’t she?” His laughter filled the room as it wrinkled his eyes and reddened his cheeks.

“I’m sure she does.” Jake pushed them forward so that Boyd could grab them, a feeling of ease finally washing over him. “I wish I could do more to thank you, but five consecutive life sentences are kind of hard to argue against.”

That was the whole point, wasn’t it? No one was going to argue that Boyd Crowder didn’t kill Doug Judy after they escaped prison together; not after all he’d done. If that was what he had to do to secure his friend’s safety while being able to see Raylan again in the process, well then, it was all worth it, wasn’t it?

“Well, I do appreciate that, Jacob,” he paused, leaning forward. “However, I must ask that you keep your dear girlfriend Danielle and her potential whereabouts between you and me, otherwise this was all for naught.” His voice was hushed, the plastic wrapper of the candies crinkling loudly under his fingers to drown it out.

“Of course.” Jake smiled, nodding quickly. “Obviously.” He laughed nonchalantly. “Roger that!” He didn’t know which was going to be harder: going to work with the sorrow of Doug Judy’s death hanging over his head, or going back to work pretending like he didn’t know that he was still alive. “Anyways…I called Marshal Givens on my drive over here, and he agreed to visit you once a year on your birthday.”

“He did?” The crinkling stopped. “Raylan agreed to come here to see me?”

“He’s the only person I could tell, and it seems like you could use another friend, so you’ll be seeing one of us every six months from now on. Unless I have something else planned, then I’ll call and come at a different time, or call Givens and see when he’s coming and…”

Boyd reached out slowly and placed his hands on top of Jake’s, the gentle comfort cutting him off. “Thank you, Jacob.”

[mnthpprt]

Chapter 49: Desperate Measures

[Sorry for the short chapter. My computer is broken and I can’t afford to get it fixed anytime soon, so I have been writing on my phone instead. In addition, life has gotten pretty busy lately and it will probably stay that way. I will still update whenever I can.]

Our laughter dies down when I hear a noise coming from the hallway. As usual, Arthur has managed to turn an awkward conversation into an opportunity to make my sides hurt. He truly has a talent for finding the humor in every situation.

“Was that a knock?” I pant. 

He simply shrugs, so I approach the door to open it. On the other side stands Sebastian, his fist up, ready to knock again. I immediately throw my arms around him, jumping on my toes to be able to reach his broad shoulders, but soon become overwhelmed by his scent.

“Nope, bad idea,” I say, pulling away. He tilts his head as he lets go. “Human,” I point at him, and then at myself, “hungry leech. You smell delicious, no offence.”

“None taken,” Sebastian smiles. “We can catch up later, le Comte wants to see you,” he informs me before moving out of the way. I nod and hurry out, followed by Arthur. “He’s in his study.”

We part ways in the hallway, the two men leaving together in the opposite direction. I arrive to find le Comte’s door wide open. I lean on the frame and knock to catch his attention.

“Bonjour” I playfully greet him, making him look up from a book.

“Welcome back, ma chérie,” he says, standing up. 

After we exchange two kisses on the cheek, he gestures toward the fireplace. I have been here enough times to know he wants me to sit, so make myself confortable on one of the armchairs as he does the same, across from me. 

“So... I know you lied about how the door works.” Le Comte looks worried for a second, but quickly regains composure. “Don’t worry, I get why you did it. I met a friend of yours,” I begin before extending my arm over my head. “About this much taller than me, red eyes, white hair?”

“Vlad is here? I had my suspicions, but I did not think he would have the nerve to show up in Paris,” he muses. “I take it you know about his plans, then.”

“Mhm. Did you know William is working for him?”

“No, I had no idea. I might have to have a word with him,” he adds sternly. “How did you find out?”

“The ball. He had introduced me to Salieri before, and seemed pretty amused by his misunderstanding,” I answer. “At the time I didn’t know who he was, but Antonio was convinced that Mozart and I were a couple. William just added wood to the fire.”

“I don’t understand, ma chérie. You still decided to go live with him?” he asks, confused.

“It started with me not wanting any of you to see me in that state... you know, practically feral, and all. And then I thought I could make something useful our of this little vacation,” I explain. “So I’ve been keeping an eye on him, seeing what I could find out. Which leads me to Vlad. I was introduced to him just a couple hours ago and found out about his plans to conquer the world or whatever. He was... charming,” I conclude sarcastically, rubbing my neck. Though the hand shaped marks have mostly faded, it is still sore from his strong grip.

In a manner completely uncharacteristic of him, le Comte pries my hand away, revealing the faint, finger shaped bruises on my neck. His face contorts into a mask of pure rage, his eyes growing darker, as he abruptly stands up and begins marching towards the door. Luckily, I manage to shoot up and catch the hem of his jacket as he walks past me.

“Sit the fuck down,” I order, pulling on his clothes. He glances at me, still looking furious, and I grab his arm and push him backwards onto his seat. “I am not done here.”

“Forgive me, Anaïs,” he mutters before taking a deep breath. That seems to calm him. “I could hardly contain myself when I saw you have been hurt.”

“It’s nothing, but thank you for caring,” I wave away his concern with a smile. “Anyway, he built his own door and traveled to the future, which horrified him so much he has now decided that humanity doesn’t stand a chance without vampire rule. But you probably already knew this.” le Comte nods slowly. “The point is, I figured out when exactly he traveled to. He ended up in the middle of World War Two. No wonder he’s traumatized,” I chuckle. 

“That explains a lot,” he says. “We have been friends for a very long time, Vlad and I. I’d say around a millennium, even. A couple centuries ago, he disappeared. When I met him again, he was... strange. He had changed,” he narrates. “He told me he had built his own door, and that it did not work properly. He also mentioned seeing the future. I believe that is when he started turning new vampires to achieve his goal.” The nostalgia in le Comte’s voice shifts to something akin to regret. “I tried to talk him out of it, to no avail, and we had a falling out. That was the last time I saw him.”

“We both know more about the future now, so maybe talking him out of it is still an option,” I chime in. “When he described his experience, I told him I was born long after that. I explained how much better things are in my time, and why his plan would never work, but he didn’t believe me. Comte, do you think he would keep his word, even after what he went through?” I suddenly ask.

“Vlad is many things, but he is not a liar,” he sombrely assures me. “I trust that aspect of him has not changed.”

“Good,” I smirk.

“What do you have in mind, ma chérie?” he inquires when I get up and make my way around his desk. On a loose leaf of paper, I quickly scribble a note, which I hand to le Comte. “I want to offer you a deal. Allow me to prove you wrong. Meet me Sunday at 9 in your shop to negotiate the terms,” he reads out loud. “Shop? What shop?”

“He sells flowers in town. I don’t have the address but William probably knows where it is.”

“Does he also know what he is helping Vlad do?” he asks. I shake my head.

“I don’t think so. You know how much of a shit stirrer he is, I’m willing to bet he’s just in it for the drama,” I state, rolling my eyes. “I have gotten to know him better over the past week, and I sincerely doubt he would be okay with what Vlad is planning. As far as I can tell, he just knows about the vampires he has recruited. Speaking of-” I remember, “he has two trusted minions. Faust the alchemist-slash-crazy scientist, and Charles. I have no idea who the latter is, just that he is French.”

“Interesting...” he mutters. “Tell me about this deal.”

“I was thinking of showing him the future. Grant him access to your door, and in exchange he has to stop his pursuit for power. What do you think?”

After a moment of thoughtful silence, le Comte shifts in his armchair. He leans forward, caressing his chin as if he had a beard.

“It is risky...” he quietly says. “Are you sure you can convince him?”

“I can and I will. Whatever it takes.”

Le Comte nods slowly, pondering my proposal. He stares at me, brows furrowed in concentration, as I suddenly feel as if his piercing golden eyes could read my mind. I return the gaze with as much confidence as I can reflect back to him. Unless he has a better idea, this is our only chance, and I intend to make it work no matter what.

“In that case...” he finally says, leaning back, “I shall aid you as best as I can and provide anything you need, ma chérie. However, I am not sure about letting him into the mansion. I need some time to think about how that would work.”

“Thank you Comte, I understand. Oh, one more thing,” I quickly add. “Do not tell anyone about this, especially William. If Vlad suspects anything he will kill me.”

“Then why did you tell me about his involvement?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. I shrug.

“You have a right to know,” I simply state, standing up. “Besides, you’re a good liar. Just keep that up and we’re all set, I’ll handle the- Rouge. I need rouge.”

Distracted by the sudden pang of hunger, I shuffle away, mumbling to myself as I count the time that has passed with my fingers. Roughly three and a half hours before I even felt anything, and I have not gone mad yet. That is a personal best.

I stroll into the kitchen sporting a proud grin. I reach over Sebastian’s shoulder for a bottle of rouge, leaning heavily on his back. He turns around, surprised, but I shush him before he can say anything and proceed to down the entire bottle in one go.

Once I am sure there is nothing left, I put it down on the counter with a deep breath before holding onto Sebastian’s shoulder once again. This time, I propel myself up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Did you miss me?” I ask coyly.

“How could I not?” he laughs. “Although the flowers probably miss you a lot more, I’ve been too busy to take proper care of the garden.”

“Oh, Seb, I am so sorry about that...” My apology is genuine, accompanied by a  gentle squeeze on his arm. “Sorry I left so suddenly. Should have at least warned you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiles. “You’re here now. I saw you packing before, do you need help carrying all that?”

“I can ask someone else. I’m sure you’re busy enough without me helping out.”

“I am not too busy to listen. What is it like?” he suddenly asks, pulling a stool from under the kitchen isle. 

“What?”

“Living with Shakespeare! I want to know everything.”

“Oh,” I laugh. 

I sit on the counter, letting my legs dangle beside him as he looks up at me, his brown eyes impatient and full of wonder, almost like a child waiting for a bedtime story.

“Well, he wakes up super early, which as you know I am not very good at,” I humor him. “We spend most days in rehearsal with his troupe. They’re pretty cool. Uh... I’ve also been caring for his little vegetable patch that he keeps in the garden to feed the-”

“Puck, yes?” he interrupts me, making me look down.

“Seriously?” I snort. “You’re taking notes? Man, and I thought William was creepy.” I nudge Sebastian with my foot as I tease him. My voice drops to a whisper when a thought occurs to me. “Do you keep those on everyone? Oh my God, have you been taking notes about me?”

“No! Of course not,” he exclaims, unconvincingly shaking his head. I stare at him. “Okay, fine, don’t look at me like that! When I said I came here to study historical figures up close, I meant it.”

“Can I see?” I don’t wait for him to answer before I take the notebook from his hands. My eyebrows rise higher with every page of diligently detailed information I flip through. “Aw, you do have one about me. Adorable.”

“How do you think I’ve kept track of your schedule the past month?” he chuckles. “I only started writing that when it became clear you were planning to stay. Too bad I have no use for that cordon bleu recipe now...”

“Whoah, stop right there. You know full well I will travel from the Moon if I have to just to taste those ‘libritos’ again,” I state with as much seriousness as I can muster, which, frankly, isn’t much. A self sufficient smile grows on Sebastian’s lips.

“I know.” 

[amydancepants-peralta]

26 and 61 pleaseee 💕♥♥♥

26: Do not. Tempt. Me. & 61: Can’t we hug this out?

(This image is 1. V important to the story and 2. V V adorable for a mini-Jake 😍)

“Do not. Tempt. Me”

Four threatening words: falling straight from Jake Peralta’s mouth, and aimed directly at the phone screen in front of him. He dares his thumb to keep on scrolling, and for his brain to completely ignore the adorable outfit that is staring at him, but neither seem interested in complying. “Amy will kill me.”

Her voice appears as if from nowhere, and in hindsight it’s more likely to be that she’s just left their bedroom, but it still shocks him all the same when suddenly Amy is in the vicinity, asking - “Why am I killing you, exactly?”

His phone is out of his hand and flying across the couch before he has a chance to respond (seriously, has his mind just packed up and left?!), and all Jake can do is splutter a “Oh, heyy babe! Nothing at all, just rambling to myself you know how I be!”

It doesn’t work at all, which comes as a surprise to absolutely no one, and Amy just gives Jake a weird look as she passes right by his position on the couch, reaching for the phone before he has a chance to grab it. And damnit for making his passcode their anniversary; and damnit for being married to an ace detective, because she unlocks his phone with ease, and proceeds to stare at the screen with raised eyebrows.

There’s a moment of silence; partly because Jake knows he’s just been busted looking at baby clothes after swearing to his wife that he would stop, and partly because he’s still kind of hoping she will see just how damn cute this outfit is.  It’s plaid, and tiny, and he’s fairly certain he owns the exact same pattern - and if he doesn’t, he will by the time their son has arrived.  

It feels like thirty minutes, yet it’s only been seconds, but still Jake feels he needs to speak up.  “Okay, before you get mad, I swear it’s a total accident, I was on another page and then one of those stupid ads popped up and my thumb didn’t hit the x properly and I -”

(There’s just enough truth in it to get by.  He definitely was on another page at some point, and he definitely hadn’t googled ‘baby + plaid’.)

“It’s actually really cute.”  Her voice is soft enough for him to know that she means it, and when Amy looks up Jake notices that her eyes have taken on that squidgy I totally love this look that she tends to get whenever they shop for baby related items and they find something far too tiny to be real.  “Like … ridiculously so.  We need to get it, if for no other reason than our son can match his Daddy.”

And it happens again: his heart goes squish and the kaleidoscope of butterflies that somehow manage to live in his stomach take flight again.  It’s been happening a lot lately, especially whenever someone mentions that they’re having a baby, or that he’s having a son, or he remembers that the sweetest being that is Amy Santiago is the mother of said child.  Some would call it excitement; others a bundle of nerves, but Jake doesn’t care enough to name it.  He and Amy are having a son, and they’re going to wear matching plaid outfits, and it’s going to be awesome.  His smile is ridiculously big, and he nods.  “Yeah.  Little Shrek and I, cruising down the halls of the precinct in our matching plaid like the badasses we are.”

Amy laughs, that kind of gentle tinkering sound that will always remain at the top of the list of Things Jake Loves To Hear (soon to be closely rivalled by the sound of his son’s laugh), and he cannot help but close the gap between them to land a quick kiss against her lips.  She’s the love of his life; and is growing their son inside her amazing body, and really he truly loves to kiss her and will take any chance that comes his way - for long as they both shall live.

“Okay babe, we’re doing this.  Adding to cart.”  She glances up at him, the tiny warning clear in her eyes.  “I’m going through to the checkout before another thing can be added.  We’ve bought so much already.”

Jake nods quietly, already knowing that he’s onto a good wicket and really shouldn’t say anything that could jeopardise it.  “You’re totally right babe,” he adds for good measure.

“Oh wait, they’ve just shown me a few things I ‘might be interested in’ and oh my god Jake there’s tiny sneakers too!”

He throws out another nod, taking a heavy swallow to keep his voice level before replying.  “Uh, cool!  That sounds really awesome Ames, but … we don’t really need more baby shoes, do we?  I mean it’s not like they’re walking around everywhere amiright?”  The sentence is punctuated with a nervous laugh, and oh, he is SO done for.

Amy’s eyebrows knit together, and she lowers the phone slightly to study him closely.  “You don’t even want to see them?”

A quick shake of the head, and Jake suddenly finds the embroidered pattern of the throw pillow on their couch fascinating.

(He knows what they look like.  They’re mini Converse all-stars, all black with the white edging that are on sale for 12.99, and they’re already in transit to their apartment.)

She lowers the phone completely, and leans in.  “Out with it, Peralta.”

“I love you?”

“I love you too.  Out with it.”

Jake feels his shoulders begin to slump, and he lets out a defeated sigh.  “They may or may not be arriving tomorrow.”

“May or may not be?”

“Well, you know how unreliable the postal service can be, I mean ..”

“Jake!”

“Ugh.  I know, I’m sorry!  I wasn’t going to buy anything else.  But then Charles sent me the link and I fell down the rabbit hole and next thing I was creating an account.  We get a discount on our next item, babe, so really we’re saving money.”

“It’s amazing how after all this time, your handle on finances still manages to make me sweat behind the knees.”

“You must admit, though.  They are pretty cute.”

Her arms are folded, and she gives him the side-eye that she does so well.  “Okay so I might have already added them to cart before I even told you about them.”

“SEE!  They’re totally adorable, and we’re all too powerless to resist.”

Amy laughs again, running her hand down his right arm, and suddenly everything is right with the world again.  “By the way - now would be a good time to tell me about the secret baby-sized Ninja Turtles costume that is currently hiding at the back of our wardrobe, babe.”

Double Damnit.

“…. Our baby needs to have a costume for Halloween, and it’s cheaper if you buy ahead?”

She’s shaking her head again, but this time Amy has that smile of hers to accompany it - the one that says oh how I love this man, even though he’s a massive dork - and honestly, he’ll take it as a victory.  “Fine, I’ll give you that one.  Just promise me there’s no more, Jake.  We need to budget for the baby, and if we keep spending our money on outfits we’re going to go broke.”

His responding nod is earnest, eyes wide with sincerity.  “I promise, Ames.  No more surprise purchases.”  

(There’s one coming next week, but this one’s for Amy, and he’s pretty sure he can get it diverted to Charles’ place.)

Amy leans forward, and Jake reaches his arms out in the assumption that she’s coming in for a hug - it is, after all, one of the more common ways to find them when on the couch - but instead she stands, walking past Jake with his phone back in her hand. 

His eyes follow her, confused.  “Wait.  Can’t we hug this out?”

She turns her head back towards him, smiling as she walks down the hallway again.  “We can hug in a minute, babe.  I’m buying this outfit before it’s gone, and putting your phone on charge and out of your hands.”

“Yeah, that tracks.”

*

*

It’s another few months before Jake gets to act it out; the slow-motion walk from the elevator door into the bullpen with his baby son in his arms, whipping off his aviators and proudly showing off to anyone and everyone that they were wearing matching plaid and he is clearly the coolest Dad in the universe.  

And maybe Rosa rolls her eyes, and the slow-mo doesn’t seem quite as slow in real life, but point is - it’s the best entrance he’s made into the precinct, ever.  And it’s entirely because of the World’s Coolest Baby, just hanging out with his equally cool Dad.  

fin.

(you can find the baby TMNT costume here, because it is equally adorable.) 🐢

[imagine-that-one-thing]

The Rise Of Glory. || 3

Chapter One. Chapter Two.

One Way or Another.

Thursday, November 5th. 

I’m distracted by the flashbacks of a time I desire to forget, I wish Tara hadn’t brought up my leave of absence. I don't need the constant reminder or the guilt of everything. After Harry took me home that morning, everything went downhill and he never made it back to work for the meetings. Now I understand how Harry feels when he says the more he attempts to forget things of the past, the more they follow and strike him down every minute they can. I wish I could go back to simpler times, but unfortunately, there have never been simple times with Harry and I. There has always been something, and I’m starting to think there will always be something to set fire to our lives. 

“Elle, board meeting in ten,” Harry informs me as he steps into my office. 

I look up at him and raise a brow, unsure of why a sudden board meeting is taking place. I just got out of the meeting regarding the mobbing downstairs and the media, what else could go wrong on this day?

“Is this about your media shit?” I immediately question, exasperated with everything. 

“Darling, I don’t know at this point, I got the text, it is mandatory for all members in NYC.” 

“It bothers me that the board knows our locations, can we not buy them out and not have a board to deal with? Why do we even have them? It is your company. They called a mandatory one a few months ago.” I respond, standing up from my desk and closing the file on my desk.

“When I started, I still had to have aboard, I was a small company, I made my way up and needed independent directors who could offer financial, technical, and/or strategic advice to me,” Harry explains, taking my hand and mildly drawing me back to him. 

He smiles down at me and swiftly kisses me, “I love you. I know this is getting rough, hang in there, okay?” Harry sweetly wishes, attempting to give me some sort of reassurance. He is right to reassure me, I do need it. I can feel that things are falling apart— not that they ever managed to fall back together wholly. The moment I begin to think that things are working out or that things are getting better, something always knocks on the door and generates some sort of turmoil. I’m starting to wonder if life with Harry and I will continuously be a constant battle of demons and predicaments. 

The last few years have been a rollercoaster, to say the least, and I never imagined my life would turn out to be the way it is. I imagined things would be simple and less dramatic, but I was proven wrong. I am not sure when things first started to go wrong; I would love to blame it all on Harry, and blame our meeting, but to be honest, we were perfect together, things didn’t start turning to shit until shortly after we got engaged. That was when his life began taking a turn for the worst with skeletons in the closet wandering out on us. 

I take a breath and nod, “I am trying,” I respond. 

I am, I am trying; I am doing my best to hang in there and not snap, I am trying not to break down and let everything get to me. I am doing my best to get through everything and to hold myself together with grace. 

Harry and I walk out of my office, our fingers intertwined as we march down the hallway towards where the meeting will be held. 

Harry opens the door and permits me to enter first, being a gentleman but in all honesty, it feels like he’s feeding me to the sharks first. I glance around and notice the women on the board are missing, there are just five men. For an emergency board meeting, it’s unusual that the entire board isn’t here. 

I side-eye Harry, requiring answers as to where everyone is, he’s on the executive committee, he has a high rank and should know things. I don’t like the feeling this meeting is giving me, something isn’t right. The room feels stiff and rigid, the men stare at me like I am their weak prey that they are ready to pounce on. For a moment, my breath hitches in my throat as I feel intimidated by the men in the room. After all this time, I still despise when men’s eyes stare at me with their expressionless faces. I know it is just a tactic to show dominance, but sometimes it makes me want to run out of the room and never turn back. 

“With everyone here, take a seat and we can get started,” one man begins with his chest out and his ego flared to the max— this feels like it’s about to be a pissing contest. 

I sit down beside Harry and take note of the fact Niall also isn’t here, another high member of the board. The other women aren’t here, and they are at ALL board meetings,  no matter where they are. I have never been the only woman to sit at a meeting. 

I desire to protest starting without everyone else here, but there is no point, I don’t have enough time as one of the men commences to speak.

At first, they gradually work their way into the financial aspects of the business, discussing how Harry has picked the business up and boosted it dramatically in the last year. After his downfall, he has succeeded in raising the business in all aspects. 

Without much warning, I become the matter of a subject, a great reach from the finances. I raise a brow as we are told about the few things that I have allegedly done wrong.

I stare blankly at the men in front of me, unsure of where they get off expressing their disappointment and dissatisfaction of myself. For the most part, I believed Harry was the one I required to impress and respond to, apparently it’s the board too. Up until now, there has been no issue with my performance or my ethics. Harry has never said a word and he’d be the first one to call me out for any wrongdoing. 

“So you’re wanting to vote me off the board because of some company policy I broke… you do realise we own the company, right? I didn’t break policy.” I pause for a moment, observing the men intently, and as one goes to speak, I shake my head and begin again, “You need to have proof of this ridiculous allegation.” 

I am not sure what they are basing their information off of, and I am not sure who the fuck they think they are telling me I need to step down from a business that is owned by Harry.

“We suggest you resign without us taking things further.” 

I’m quick to rebuttal and defend myself, “I have done nothing wrong, you can’t kick me off the board.” 

“You can be removed by a two-thirds vote of the board at the next board meeting.”

I glance over at Harry and he’s shaking his head with his arms crossed over his chest. “No, you’re not kicking her off the board.” 

“You don’t have a vote in this, Harry. We understand she’s your wife—“ 

Harry swiftly cuts the man off, “No, this isn’t about her being my wife, it’s about the fact you have no grounds for this bullshit, and that is what it is—, bullshit.” Harry leans forward and presses his elbows on the table, “I won’t stand for this.” 

“Well, there is nothing you can do, you have no say in this. It is the board's decision.” 

Harry shakes his head, “I am the owner, I am the CEO, my wife stays.” 

“We will see what the board has to say.” 

“I am the bloody bored,” Harry responds with a heavy sigh, “Why, why must you insist on fucking things up for me?” Harry mutters unhappily. 

“Harry—” 

The man begins to speak, but Harry cuts him off swiftly, “I don’t want to hear it, Elise, let’s go, this meeting is over,” Harry pushes away from the desk and stands to his feet, his hands moving to his suit jacket and adjusting it. 

I stand to my feet and push the seat under the large desk, glaring at the men before I walk out of the room. Heavy on my heels, I march my way towards Harry’s office, wasting no time with stepping inside it and closing the blinds while Harry closes the door behind us. 

Harry works his fingers through his hair and sighs, “Elle—” 

“No,” I shake my head, “I’ve about had it with your business dictating every-fucking-thing. Harry, fix this.”

“Elise, I can’t. My hands are tied, I can’t fix this.” 

“You need to find a way.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, Elise. I literally have no say in this.” 

I grow quiet and compose myself, deciding there is no need to lose my mind over his business and the board that controls us, instead, I shift my hair behind my ear and step closer to Harry, “I have a meeting, I love you, but this business might be the death of me,” I half-smile, leaning up and kissing his cheek. 

I proceed to step towards the door but Harry gently wraps his fingers around my wrist, pulling me back to him, “We don’t do half-assed kisses in my office,” Harry grins, kissing me pleasantly, “I love you, too,” Harry whispers, “I will think of something, I have a conference call,” Harry kisses me again before putting distance between us. 

I nod my head and softly smile before we step out of each other’s way, he moves to his desk and I exit his office. 

The moment I step out of Harry’s office, I make contact with Anastasia waving me down. 

Damnit. 

I love her, do not get me wrong, but I know that wave and it is never satisfying. It is one of those waves where she wants to discreetly get my attention but doesn’t want to cause anyone to panic even though part of her is panicking. 

“Elise, there’s a client here who is demanding to speak to Mr Styles but I was specifically instructed not to bother him this afternoon,” Anastasia informs me, “And he seems pissed, Niall is in a meeting so you’re the only one I can bother, what do I do?” she challenges, appearing frazzled and under stress. 

I have to admit, Anastasia handles more shit than she signed up for and far more than her job description says. 

I give her a weak smile, “I’ll handle it in a minute. By any chance can I convince you to stay and work here with me?” 

Anastasia shakes her head with a small chuckle, “I fly back with Niall tomorrow once he and Charles are done. I don't like it here, I'm sorry.” She responds, and I can’t blame her for wanting to be in London. I also don't blame her for disliking it here, the company doesn't operate the way it does in London, everything is still out of order and will take some time to get in line. It is a whole other ball game here in New York, the people are different and so is their work ethic.  

Today feels as though it has been a shit show from hell and it isn't even eleven yet. I wander into the conference room where Anastasia politely held a client for me, and as I peer into the glass window, I frown for a moment, unsure of why my client is sitting in a conference room, pissed off and demanding Harry. 

I push open the door and smile towards Mr Cohan, “Mr Cohan,” I extend a hand but he sneers and crosses his arms over his chest like a prick. 

This isn’t the man I first met months ago. Cohan was polite and very pleasant when I first met him, and the few meetings afterwards he was just as content, but today, today I am observing a whole other side to him.

“Where’s Mr Styles?” He is rude and straight to the point with his question.   

“He’s busy right now, what is the issue I can help you with?” I ask with the kindest tone of voice I can possibly use right now. I  am unsure of what could have possibly pissed him off. Niall has handled his file while I’ve been gone and I know Niall is damn good at his job. 

Mr Cohan shakes his head, “Why have you not been in charge of my file? I specifically asked for you.” This feels like an interrogation and one that is breaching my privacy. I owe him no explanation for my absence. 

“I have been on leave and Mr Horan took over for me,” I respond. 

It isn't rare for files to sometimes be passed around and handled by multiple people, most clients prefer to have various sets of eyes and to have a team with their portfolio. 

Apparently, this man solely wanted my set of eyes, for what reason, I do not know. I am not the most beneficial asset at this company. To be quite honest, Harry and Niall are the top performers and the ones I would want in charge of my portfolio, not me. 

Niall and Harry are known to catch things before I do, they have been in the game a lot longer than I. I was more so launched into it and forced to learn things promptly. I was fortunate, some would say, I didn't necessarily have to work my way up the ladder in the company, I was given a position that Harry saw fit and here I am, standing in front of a prick who has his knickers in a twist because I wasn't the only one in charge. 

“That isn’t good enough, this was your job to handle. It wasn’t for you to pass off to whom you deemed fit. It is like you did bugger all but you reap the benefits.” 

I take a moment to process what he is saying, doing my best to attempt to see things from his point of view, even if his view is one that is up his ass. “I’m sorry you feel that way, I can assure you I reap no benefits from this,” I assure the man, frustrated that he has shifted from a decent guy to a self-absorbed man and a prick.

“You being on leave is no excuse, personal leave is not acceptable to pass off your job to someone else. I’m disappointed and I want to be compensated.” He is demanding and doing his best to intimidate me to get what he wants. 

I am not sure what he wants to be compensated for, he has had no loss to his assets, if anything, he owes us for keeping his funds on track. 

“Mr Cohan—“ I begin but he cuts me off and continues to go off on a tangent, ranting and raving about my in capabilities to adequately do my job. 

“Get me Mr Styles, I’ll be sure to take this further and make sure you’re fired, this is unacceptable.” He insists, still being a raging jerk for no reason. 

There is no reasoning with this man, he is set in his ways. 

I take a breath and smile at the man who’s making a fool of himself, me being fired would be the highlight of my day at this point, I have had enough of everything. “I’ll get him for you,” I respond, doing my best to keep my cool as I march out of the conference room. 

I march into Harry’s office, having no care that he is on a call. He glances up at me and he gives me the sort of scowl he gives his employers when they need to get out of his office. 

He’s seemingly in a god awful mood, but right now, I don't give a damn. 

He leans forward and places his elbow on his desk, beginning to rub his temples in frustration as he listens to the person on the other end of the call. 

Harry scribbles down a few things on a notepad, "I will get back to you with figures and email you the documentation before we negotiate and sign." Harry notifies whoever is on the other end of the phone. The two say their prompt goodbyes and Harry hangs up the phone.

Harry gazes towards me, seemingly annoyed that I am still standing here needing his presence. “What do you need? I have an international call in twenty,” Harry questions tiredly and without any enthusiasm. His voice is laced with nothing but aggravation. I don’t blame him, I don’t think he has had much sleep in the last few days and today has been a shit show of a day from the moment we woke up to a fussy Alex.

I throw Mr Cohan's file onto his desk, “Your client is a fucking asshole, you’re now in charge of his portfolio,” I bitterly comment.

Harry leans forward and pushes the file back towards me, “I don’t have the time for another portfolio to manage, you need to take care of it.”

“No,” I respond, “I’m not going back into that conference to bend over backwards for the prick. Either you take him or we lose the client.”

Harry drives his fingers through his hair and heavily groans, “What did he do?” 

I shake my head, not wanting to explain things to him. There is a throbbing ache in my throat that is quite the indication that I am ready to break down and cry. “Jus’ please take him.”

“Elise, if you don’t fucking tell me—,” Harry begins, but I cut him off.

“What? You’ll fire me? Don’t worry, your client has made it known he is going to do his best to get me fired, and at this point, if you want to fire me, please do, I’m fucking tired of this anyway.” I mutter. 

“My only fifteen-minute break and I am dealing with bullshit… what else was said?” 

“Just that after months of me not being in the meetings that I am no longer in charge, and ‘personal reasons’ isn’t enough justification for not overseeing everything.” … “Oh, and he will be speaking to the CEO about my lack of showing up to work because, in his words, he signed up for me to oversee everything, not for Niall. The asshole wants compensation." I inform Harry, noticing how he is far from amused by things. 

Harry stands up from his chair and clasps the file in his hand tightly, shaking his head disapprovingly, “Come with me,” he mutters, not giving me a chance to refuse as he marches past me swiftly. I follow after him, struggling to keep up with his long strides and fast pace. 

Harry opens the door to the conference room and gestures for me to enter before he steps in and closes the door. The client turns around from staring at the appearance of the city and he instantly puts his hand out to shake Harry’s. 

“I see there is a problem,” Harry states, not bothering to introduce himself or to be polite with a hello. I can only assume he is showing his position and dominance. 

The man nods, “I have heard highly of your business and her uncle’s, I expected a lot more out of a Cartier.” 

“Mhm,” Harry hums, “I don’t understand what the problem is, your portfolio is managed and balanced, your meetings have been on schedule. The only problem I see here is that the withdrawal you wish to make is large, so you might want to split it up over multiple years to bump you into a higher tax bracket, which I’m sure Elise planned to discuss in today’s meeting.” Harry informs the client, reading the first page of the file in his hand. “I see here Niall has everything in order and up to date.” 

Cohan nods, “I gave the file for Ms Cartier to handle, not to pass around to whomever she deemed fit. She has not been to one meeting in the last few months.” 

“She was on leave.” Harry bluntly informs Cohan. 

It is nobody’s business why I was on leave and it is nobody’s business to even know that I was on personal leave. My personal life is just that— my personal life. 

“That’s not suitable,” Mr Cohan shakes his head, “She hasn’t been in charge like requested and she should not be working on the portfolio now. This is not how it works, she should be fired.” 

Harry closes the file and places it on the table, “You are aware you’re talking about my wife, correct? Mrs Styles, not Ms Cartier. I suggest you take your file and walk out of this building. She was on leave and doesn’t owe you an explanation.” Harry stays firm with his tone of voice. 

“Is this how you treat all clients?” 

“Just ones that disrespect my employees and my wife. You’re no longer welcome here.” 

“You’re making a big mistake, this is a lot of money you’re losing out on.” 

Harry shrugs his shoulders, “Don’t need the money. If you’re not apologising to my wife, respectfully, get out,” Harry gestures towards the door.

Cohan shakes his head, "I demand compensation for this," Cohan demands, causing tension to rise further within the room. 

Harry doesn't say a word, instead, he reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out his chequebook, he scribbles along the lines, signs the check and gives it to Cohan, "Don't step foot again into my building," Harry narrows his eyes on the man, standing his ground until Cohan takes the check and places it in his pocket. Harry stares Cohan down until he steps out of the conference room and can no longer be seen. 

Harry heavily sighs and closes the door as my ex-client leaves. 

"Did you pay him off?" I ask Harry, stunned that he did such a thing, I have never seen him pay off clients, I don't even think it is ethical, surely he can get himself in some shit for it.

Harry shrugs, "What you don't know won't hurt you."

"Harry, do you just pay off everyone?" 

"Elle, if I had to pay off everyone who got pissed at us, I would be fucking broke, leave it alone, he won't be asking questions about your leave." 

“Harry,” I begin, but I pause for a moment. 

I want to open up and express my frustration, my anger and everything else that I am feeling, but I don’t know... how. “I quit,” I adamantly inform him, crossing my arms over my chest. 

Harry raises a brow and wearily sighs, “Oh, really?” 

“Yes, I am done,” I respond.  

I’m done. I’m done with the board, I’m done with the business, and I’m done with asshole clients. I’m done with everything. 

“Okay, when you hand in your resignation, we can discuss this further.” 

I shake my head, “This is my resignation.” 

Harry shakes his head with a small chuckle, not entirely taking me seriously. “No, company policy, resignations must be written and signed, placed on my desk and formally spoken about.” 

“Are you seriously going to be an asshole and make me write it out?” 

“Yes, darling, everyone else has to.”

“Everyone else also has to put in their leave and request sick days.” I point out the fact that he’s currently picking and choosing which rules he wants to abide by. 

“Well, next time you want time off, put in a request and I will get back to you within two to three business days.” 

“I am serious, Harry, I quit.” 

“Mhm,” Harry hums, “We can discuss this at a more convenient time, right now, we have other issues.” 

“When do we not have other issues, our life is full of issues. We have more fucking issues than vogue, and yes, I got that off of social media.”

“Elise,” Harry sighs, “Can we stop being emotional and dramatic for a minute and discuss the bigger matter at hand?” 

“Which is?” I question.

“The media are setting up camp, he’s going to go straight to the media… there’s a red-eye to London, I need you away from the media,” Harry informs me, his fingers spreading through his hair. 

“Are you telling me to go back by myself?” 

“No.” Harry shakes his head, “I’m coming with you, it’s best if we are home instead.” 

“What about the work here?” I question, unaware of how everything’s going to work if we suddenly drop everything and go back to London. 

“I’ll fly out every two weeks if I have to, I’ll do what it takes, right now it’s best we stay low key and away from New York where the news of everything is breaking.” 

“Harry, running won’t solve it.” 

This is what Harry does best, he runs, it is a constant recurrence. 

At any given chance he has, he takes the easy way out and tries to run. By now, you’d think he would know that running has NEVER solved his or our problems, it has always made things worse. 

“Elise, please,” Harry groans, “Look, I’m doing my best here, you want to be in London anyway, it’s the safest thing right now. The media will be everywhere but at least I know our house is gated off and you and Alex will be safe. Don’t fight me on this, we need to get on the red-eye.” 

“Okay.” 

“Another article was released,” Harry sighs, “I’m going to find out who is doing this.” 

“Harry, stay out of it and let Tara do her job.” 

Harry shakes his head, “I want an investigation to happen.” 

“Okay… when did you become the biggest CEO?” I question, forgetting to have asked earlier when Tara brought it up at the small meeting. 

“When you were burying yourself in paperwork,” Harry responds with a slight bitterness to his tone of voice. “If you’d stop distracting yourself from life, you’d know things.” 

I stare over at him, not amused by his comments, “I’m not feeding into this argument,” I begin, “But can you make sure the media isn’t at our house when we land? I’d appreciate some privacy.” 

Harry rolls his eyes at me, “Just be ready to fly home… Without the sass, please.” … “Come here,” Harry gestures as he leans on his desk, “Come, love,” he opens his arms towards me and I step closer to him, allowing his fingers to intertwine with mine. 

Harry tenderly lures me in between his legs, his loam grey eyes peering up at me, “I know this is hard, I know you signed up for none of this, fuck, I didn’t even sign up for this, but I’m trying, okay? I’m trying to run a business and keep everyone happy, I’m trying to keep it all afloat. As successful as this business is, I feel like I’m failing because I know you’re not happy… Darling, whatever you want, I’ll do. We can close the business for a bit, I can have someone else fill in my position, baby, you tell me what to do.” 

I stare at Harry, unsure of what to say. 

I don’t expect him to take a step back from his business when it’s at the best place it has been in years, he’s one of the best CEO’s out there, he can’t just leave the spotlight now. Not to mention, this is not the first time he has offered to step away from the business, part of me feels as though it is an empty promise. 

I take a breath and shake my head, “You can’t leave the business or take time off.” 

“I can,” Harry nods, “I’ll do what needs to be done for you, for us. I promised to put our family before the business.” 

“I’d like to take a step back from it all…. Maybe be in the office just a few days a week? Work remotely from home or go back to working only at Meyer Enterprise, focusing on that? It runs mostly by itself with my staff, but I don’t know… it would be nice to be at home with Alex more again…” I trail off, unsure of what it is I want. “Is it selfish of me to want to be at home?” 

Harry smiles at me and shakes his head, “No, sweetheart, it isn’t selfish. If that’s what you want, we can make it happen. A few hours a week in the office and the rest at home with Alex. Or you can go back to Meyer Enterprise.” 

“A few hours a week would be nice.” 

“Done,” Harry nods, “Whatever you decide. I will support you. You can decide, you have a few hours on the flight to think about it.”

“Are you sure that I can step away a little bit?” 

“Absolutely, I will make it work. I am committed to making you happy and keeping our family happy and safe.” 

I look at him and raise a brow, unsure of where all of this has come from. 

He has definitely tried a lot more with the family ever since Alex was born and has progressively gotten better up until we had to move here, he slipped back to some of his old ways. Hearing him give me the option of stepping down or him stepping away takes my by surprise. 

Harry’s business is flourishing, he is highly successful and I don’t want to take that away from him. I do not want him to make the decision between me and the business. I have given him that ultimatum before while furious with him for not knowing when enough is enough and when it is time to put family first. Right before Alex was born I gave him the ultimatum; I remember that night as clear as day, I will never forget it— neither will Harry. Harry kept to his word after that night, he did do his best to not take on too much with the business, but right now, he has taken on a lot and although the business is prospering, I am not. I don’t aspire to be selfish, I don’t want to take him away from what he has worked his entire life for, but I cannot be apart of it all as much as I am. 

Sometimes I wonder how life would have been if I had of sojourned at my job before I moved to Logan’s assistant, or how my life would have been if Logan never died and I was still his assistant. 

Would things be easier? 

Would they be harder? 

Either way, that ‘What If’s’ don’t change anything. Life is what it is, I cannot change the past, I cannot bring Logan back from the dead, and I can’t change the fact that sometimes life is a roller coaster that I don’t want to ride. Unfortunately, we have to do things in life that we don’t want to, sometimes we have to take a breath and move forward with life, one way or another. 

One way or another, Harry and I will be okay— I will be okay— but for now, all I can do is attempt to take Harry’s support and love through these hard times. I should count myself lucky to have a man who is trying to be understanding and supportive. There was once a time where his business was his priority and I wasn’t— I would suffer the consequences. 

[trashystar420]

Babysitter Chapter 6 Maribat

It had been a few days since Marinette discovered the ‘villain’ that is Damien Wayne, or is that ReALLY his name. After all he IS a villain.... according to Trixx, which could be considered a reliable source. Fifty-fifty.

She couldn’t focus at the discovery Trixx found. Aparently he was looking in her history. Not a good thing. Especially if as the current guardian of rather powerful magical jewelry, must remain a secret from anyone and everyone. Especially from supposed supervillains.

“Why me.” The designer moaned to herself. Resting her head on her sketch book. Tikki just gave her holder a pat.

“Tikki what am I going to do? A random person. A villain is now aware of the existence of kwamis and will be looking around for them. And he KNOWS that I know.”

“Don’t worry Marinette, if there is anyone who can figure this out. It’s you! After all you are ladybug.”

“Was Tikki. Was. It’s been years Perhaps I’m losing my touch.” She thought out loud.

“Your not thinking of.”

“You know what Tikki. I think Ladybug needs to come out from the shadows once more.” For the first time in a while. She felt a spark. A feeling. It was like as though she were reborn into a new person. Tikki didn’t say anything.

“Tikki spots on!”

...

...

...

“Alright, Robin Jr., Red Hood. Get in position. Red Robin, on your signal.” BlackBird (aka Damien yes I know I said Robin a few chappies ago but screw that!) ordered. The two younger birds also stayed in position. Red hood’s guns and Robin Jr.’s batons at the ready.

This was it. They finally found Mr. Freeze’s hideout. Red Robin was currently drawing the crazed ice fanatic into a trap. That trap being Dick and Jason. Damien stayed on the sidelines. He wanted his younger brothers to gain some experience on their own, and if something were to happen, he could intervene.

“Alright guys he’s right on my tail, so make this quick before I’m frozen over.” Red Robin warned. Jason cocked his guns at the door. Dick above the door. Ready to jump the villain.

The door burst open. Tim tumbling out there. Mr.Freeze came soon after, and that was when Jason shot with 100% accurate precision. At his freezing tank,resulting in the tank to explode, releasing all the ice.

“Gah!”

“RB Jr. NOW!!!”

And the baby bird managed to land a solid hit on his noggin, rendering him unconscious.

“I-I did it!!!” Dick cheered. Jason swept him off his feet and spun him around, also proud of his baby bro.

“We did it! I’m so proud of you.” Jason told.

Dick shook his head.

“You were the amazing one Red Hood. You managed to shoot at his tanks without breaking a sweat. Your a real marksman!!!”

“Dawwww ya really think so lil D- AHEAM!” Damien interrupted. Jason reluctantly put down little Dick.

“What’s it to you?” Red hood spat out. Robin Jr hid behind Hood.

“Don’t yell your real names out loud, you never know who or what can hear.” The experienced vigilante breathed out. Much like his father, was also pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh sorry BlackBird.” Dick apologized. Red hood still gave him a look, well sort of. His mask basically hides his face, but Blackbird could bet all his money that Jason was giving him a withering glare.

“Alright now lets give the ice freak over to the police and get our butts home huh? I want to get in a nice warm bath.” Tim than pushes both his younger brothers out, letting BlackBird handle the cleanup.

“Why is it always me.” The oldest bird asked to himself. He dials for the police not long after.

...

...

...

Ladybug jumped building to building with the same amount of grace she had back when Hawkmoth and Hawkmoth 2.0 reined their terror down on Paris. With a practiced swing, she threw her yo-yo on a protruded ledge, and utilizing the momentum from the yo-yo swung herself up and far. She kept repeating the process for a few more times. The all too familiar cool breeze. The adrenaline. Marinette felt like the wind.

When Marinette transformed, she was surprised to find her hair much shorter, which wasn’t a bad thing. Long hair could get in the way during a fight and she DID not like ponytails. Perhaps a bun, but it just wouldn’t look good with the costume, or that is was the Bluenette thought.

She landed on top of an apartment, and sat on the ledge, her feet dangling off the building, without a care in the world. The heroine let the breeze hit her face again as her big blue eyes stare into the Milky Way. She just simply let herself get lost in the feeling of tranquility. Breathe in breathe out. Repeated breathing techniques taught to her by the previous guardian, Master Fu. Now deceased due to natural causes.

Her bittersweet memories interrupted by the blaring sounds of a robbery.

“Who robs a bank in the middle of night?” She bitterly spoke to no one in particular. Without a second thought, she jumped to the crime scene to find two burly men in typical black ski masks and all black clothing. Too occupied in carrying the heavy-looking sac of money and precious gold, Ladybug coughed to alert the two theives.

“Ah shit here another one of them!!! This time a spotted freak!!!” Theif one bemoaned.

“Shit Carlie should we just the goods and scram?” Thief two asked. Thief one warily gazed at the mysterious heroine, before reluctantly tossing the bag to her.

“Keep it, we want no trouble.” He gave in, thief two did the same. Mari gave a look.

“I don’t want stolen goods, I came here to stop you two!” Ladybug clarifies. Thief two made an ‘oh’ sound, while thief one nodded.

“You two gentlemen are smart, so why go through with this?” She asked. The two were taken aback by the question, but before thief one answered, thief two spoke up.

“We are desperate ma’am. Our mama is terribly sick and we got no bills to pay for her medicine. The doc said if she don’t get it she gonna...” and then proceeded to bawl. Thief one patted his brother and also began to shed some tears.

“Dammit Dyl, I told you not to cry- hic- your -hic- gonna make me cry....” and now Ladybug is comforting two burly men crying their sorrows out. The spotted heroine asked how much the treatment costed.

“Over $100,000.” He answered. Ladybug winced. Remembering that she earned over $100,000 over the last two weeks due to online commissions and her babysitting gig.

“How about you two show me to your mama first, after we put all the money back.” The two nodded and did just that.

...

...

...

“Dylan!!! Charles!!! Why are you two dressed like that?!?” Mrs. Bension asked.

“We’re sorry mama. We needed the money to heal ya.” Charles answered. That earned the two a hard slap.

And a hug. More tears ensued. Ladybug awkwardly stayed on the sidelines at the display. And then Mama Bension looked at Ladybug.

“You’re not gonna report them to the police are ya?” She asked with baited breathe. Ladybug looked. And really looked at the family before her. They looked so close together, and so happy. It’s not like they wanted to rob a bank to get rich, all they wanted was enough to save their dying mother.

Taking an exasperated breathe, she looks over to mama Bension.

“No ma’am. This secret stays with the four of us. I understand that they were in a terrible position that would’ve made anyone desperate. Now tell me, what is it that you have?”

She had breast cancer.

Ladybug pulled out a roll of money. Around $200,000. It will be over $100,000. That much Marinette knew.

“This should cover the bill. And if you need more or anything else”, she proceeds to take out a little bug, like communicator. It was smaller than her nail.

“Press this small button here” and the bug thing released its wings, displaying a monitor.

“It will alert me. Now I must go. Take care and good luck. And please. Don’t resort to thievery again.” And she took off into the night. The Benisons looked at the amount of money she handed to them. The brothers cheered with tears of joy, while the mom looked over the strange device she left.

“What a strange woman. Kind, but strange.”

...

...

...

“Well today’s the day.” Marinette spoke, while looking at the calender. The day being her scheduled babysitting day. She informed Bruce ahead of time if she could take the two boys out with her, and he agreed a bit too eagerly.

“Alright we are first going to the Gotham museum first, and then we will take a nice walk in the dog park. And finally, the amusement park. Hey guys did I miss anything?”

“Picnic basket check.” Tikki informed.

“First aid kit check.” Longg answered.

“Phone at 100%.” Pollen shouted over the counter.

“Are you ready Marinette?” Kalkki asked playfully. She just rolled her eyes at the sassy kwami.

“Alright let’s go you guys.” And off the five went.

Done! That was chapter 6 ya’ll enjoy!!!!

[tomeandflickcorner]

Episode Review- The Real Ghostbusters: The Thing in Mrs. Faversham’s Attic

I wonder if this counts as a Peter centric episode.   Sure, he doesn’t do much, but we still get a small idea of what his relationship with his mother was like.

It begins with the titular Mrs. Agatha Faversham, asleep in her bed.  She’s woken up by noises coming from her attic.  While this doesn’t seem like that big of a deal at first, the sounds suddenly escalate to the point where the house itself seems to be shaking.   It’s very clear she’s not hearing a raccoon or other fuzzy critter running around up there, so simply calling animal control is not an option.  When Agatha cries out to be left alone, she’s answered with a sinister sounding cackle. So the next morning, Agatha heads down to the Firehouse, seeking the Ghostbuster’s assistance.  During the initial interview, Agatha tells them a bit of her life history.  It seems that she’s lived in that house since she was a little girl.  While she did apparently move out for a time, she moved back after her husband passed away.  However, she has never set foot inside the attic once in the past 70 years. Agatha explains that her father, Charles Faversham, had forbidden her from doing so when she was a little girl, and had repeated that restriction when she moved back in after becoming a widow. Then, when Charles also passed away as well, his dying wish was that she never sell the house, and once again reminded her that she must never go up into the attic.  Clearly, this is quite suspicious.  Was Agatha’s father hiding something up in that attic that he didn’t want her seeing?

Agatha finishes things off by apologetically stating she doesn’t know how much the Ghostbusters charge for their services, and stating that she doesn’t have a lot of money.  Which is something I personally found surprising, since Agatha’s attire and overall character design seemed almost reminiscent to Madame Bonfamille from The Aristocats, which suggested she was wealthy.  However, what’s even more surprising is that Peter actually assures Agatha that the only payment she’d be required to give is a smile.   Which is a highly unusual stance for Peter to make, given his history of being reluctant to work pro bono.  Even Egon, Ray, Winston and Janine seem shocked by Peter’s sudden generosity. When Ray questions him on it, Peter reveals that something about Agatha reminds him of his mother, who I suppose we’re meant to surmise passed away some time ago.

So the Ghostbusters venture to Agatha’s house, while Agatha apparently stays behind with Janine.  When they arrive, Egon takes note of how he doesn’t seem to be getting any reading on the PKE Meter.  Despite this, they do hear the loud banging and rumbling coming from the attic. They head upstairs to investigate, and to their surprise, the attic is unnaturally large, even by attic standards.  When they set foot inside the attic, the PKE Meter finally starts going off, with the readings going so far off the scale, the device short circuits.  Still, none of them seem to notice the fact that a pair of yellow eyes appear on the wall, despite the fact that they walk right past them. They do, however, notice when some toy soldiers come to life and begin shooting at them.  (Not sure if I should be humming ‘March of the Toy Soldiers’  from the Nutcracker Suite or ‘March of the Toys’ from Babes in Toyland here.) The Ghostbusters, after taking cover from the toy soldiers’ attack, soon decide to return fire and aim their Proton Packs at the toy soldiers, which results in them returning to ordinary toys. Moments later, Peter, I guess, loses his balance and ends up sliding down the side of a small pile of attic junk. He lands at the base of a coat rack, which also comes alive.  The coat rack demands to know why the Ghostbusters entered the attic, and Peter explains that Agatha had asked them to do so. Upon hearing the name Faversham, the coat rack grew belligerent.  It demanded that the Ghostbusters hand over Faversham, expressing a desire to destroy him for what he did to him.  Otherwise, it would kill the Ghostbusters.  Peter tries his best to talk his way out of it, asking why exactly the ghost wanted Faversham in the first place, but the ghost was not very forthcoming.  In the end, the Ghostbusters shoot the coat rack with their Proton Packs. Like with the toy soldiers, the coat rack is rendered lifeless, and the Ghostbusters try to take their chance to escape.  However, they quickly find that the trapdoor leading out of the attic has vanished.   Egon concludes that the ghost that’s loose inside the attic is in full control of everything.  Of course, it is pretty silly of this ghost to remove the trapdoor then.  If the ghost wants them to fetch Faversham, how are they supposed to do that if they can’t get out of the attic?

Anyway, in order to get away, Egon comes up with the idea of having them all shoot off their Proton Packs in different directions.  This would hopefully break the entity’s concentration, allowing the trapdoor to become visible again.  The plan ultimately works, and the Ghostbusters are soon able to escape the attic alive.  Once they’ve escaped, Winston asks the obvious question.  If the entity in the attic is that powerful and nasty, why didn’t it follow them?  Why did its pursuit of them end once they made it outside the attic?  Egon responds that he thinks he might know, but he’ll need to ask Agatha a few more questions before he can make a full assessment.  So they return to the Firehouse to speak with her.   Agatha complies by explaining how, when she was a little girl, her father, Charles, had done everything he could to make sure she’d want for nothing, even though their family was never that well off.  Of course, Agatha remembered she was very satisfied with her life back then, as she had her loving father and her beloved teddy bear.  Therefore, she had everything a little girl could need. (I’m guessing the mother had come down with a case of dead mom-itus when Young Agatha was too little to remember her, as there’s no mention of her at all.)  One night, Charles went up into the attic, during a terrible storm. While he was up there, Young Agatha heard her father shouting, and she came to investigate, just in time to see her father coming down from the attic, white as a sheet.  Charles had proceeded to tell her that he’d made a terrible mistake, but it was all fixed now.  Still, she had to promise that she’d never set foot into the attic. Once Agatha finishes her story, Egon thanks her and asks Janine to show her the Containment Unit. Doesn’t really strike me as a good idea to let anyone not on the payroll near the Containment Unit, but what do I know? Maybe Egon was just trying to make sure she was out of earshot so she wouldn’t hear what he had to say to the other Ghostbusters.   Because once Agatha is out of the room, he tells Peter, Ray and Winston he’s concluded that Charles Faversham must have turned to the occult in an effort to make sure his daughter could have even more than she’d already had.  In the process, he’d bitten off more than he could chew and conjured up an entity he couldn’t control.  He’d tried to send it back but failed, and only managed to seal the entity away inside the attic.  The entity, which is called Belleranthon according to the Ghostbusters Wiki, had been trapped there ever since, expanding its domain and growing angrier and angrier as each year passed.  Winston surmises Belleranthon must be super mad by now, considering it’s been 70 years since that night.  That gives Ray an idea, with him guessing it’s possible that Belleranthon might not even realize how much time has passed.  He believes it might be possible to bait Belleranthon and lure it into a trap. Peter, not willing to be picked as the bait, quickly nominates Slimer, who had chosen that moment to pop up. Slimer is clearly not happy about this, but Peter doesn’t give him a choice.  

Upon returning to Agatha’s house, the Ghostbusters get to work at setting things up.  They disguise Slimer to look like Charles Favershim by having him put on a trench coat and fedora.  Because as everyone knows, if it works for anthropomorphic turtles, it must be a good disguise. Slimer is instructed to get Belleranthon to reveal its true form and get it into position by luring it to the entrance to the attic.  Once Belleranthon is in position, the Ghostbusters can trap it in a Ghost Trap positioned at the base of the attic’s ladder.  At first, the plan seems to be working, with Belleranthon believing Slimer is actually Charles.  But before Slimer can lure Belleranthon into the designated position, it suddenly is able to see through the disguise.  Belleranthon instantly grows angry, summoning up a large cyclone that managed to snag Slimer, Peter, Ray and Winston.  Fortunately, Egon was able to grab hold of the top of the attic ladder in time.   He taunts the entity, causing it come after him. Belleranthon takes the bait and approaches Egon.  The moment Belleranthon was looming over him, Egon manages to trigger the Ghost Trap, and Belleranthon is successfully captured.

A short time later, the Ghostbusters return Agatha to her house. Peter even reveals he’d found her old teddy bear in the attic.  (Not sure how the teddy bear got up there, as I distinctly remember it being shown that Young Agatha had the teddy bear with her when Charles first forbid her to venture up into the attic, and nobody ever went up there since then.)  Agatha thanks the Ghostbusters for what they’ve done and asks if they’d like to stay for some tea.  Ray informs her that they can’t as they have to head out on another call.  Agatha states that she understands and suggests they could stop by another time. However, as the Ghostbusters start to get back into the Ecto-1, they notice Peter is hanging back.  Peter proceeds to explain that he’s realized Agatha is all alone in that house, and it’s made him remember how his own mother had spent a lot of time alone as well.  Which makes sense since it’s already been established in previous episodes that Peter’s father, Jim, was rarely home, as he was constantly away chasing some get rich quick scheme.  And Peter now regrets that he never took the chance to be with his mother, either.  I’m guessing he didn’t visit that often while he was away at college.  The other Ghostbusters seem to catch on to what Peter is thinking right now, so they allow him to sit this one out, with Egon saying they’ll catch up with him back at the Firehouse.  And so they drive off, with Peter going back to the house in order to take Agatha up on her offer for a cup of tea.

I wonder. Am I the only one who actually feels a bit sorry for the entity Belleranthon?  I mean, think about it.  Charles Faversham just summons him up from whatever netherworld it came from and then proceeded to trap it within the attic.  Bellerathon is then imprisoned up there for 70 years.  And the Ghostbusters resolve the issue by trapping Bellerathon in a Ghost Trap. Granted they’ll probably transfer Bellerathon in the Containment Unit, so it will have plenty of company now. But while this was clearly the easiest way to resolve things, was it the best way?  Couldn’t the Ghostbusters have at least tried to explain to Bellerathon that Charles Faversham was long dead?  And then promised to try and figure out how to help him return to its dimension of origin?  Sure, Charles couldn’t manage it.  But the Ghostbusters are equipped with more sophisticated technology and academic knowledge of ghosts and the occult.  I’m sure they could have figured out something if they’d tried to.  But maybe I’m the only one who sees things this way.

Of course, I suppose we’re really supposed to be focusing on the character development Peter underwent.  He clearly cared deeply for his mother and has a soft spot in regards to his memories of her.  Although, it’s implied that he possibly took her presence for granted and didn’t spend enough time with her when he had the chance before she passed away, which is something he regrets now.  And by the episode’s end, it looks like he’ll try to make up for that by spending time with Mrs. Faversham.  Overall, I’d agree this seems like a sweet gesture from Peter that could be therapeutic for him as well.     (Huh, there were a lot of allusions to dead relatives in this episode, wasn’t there? Agatha’s mother apparently died when she was a baby, then she lost her husband and father sometime later.  And Peter’s mom is implied to be dead, too.)

Finally, there is a small issue that occurred to me.  It was clearly stated in the episode that the father’s name was Charles Faversham. But Agatha Faversham was clearly stated to have been married in the past, which is emphasized by the fact that the title refers to her as Mrs. Faversham.  So….wouldn’t Agatha’s last name be different from her father’s?  I suppose it’s possible that she married someone with the same last name as her, but that’s highly unlikely.  Did Agatha and her late husband do the opposite of the norm and have the husband take the wife’s last name, or did Agatha go back to her maiden name after being widowed?  (Although, wouldn’t she have called herself Miss Faversham then?)  Then again, I suppose it’s possible the writers called both father and widowed daughter Faversham for the sake of simplicity.  

(Click here for more Ghostbusters reviews)

[angryhausfrau-writes]

I Travel Troubled Oceans: Chapter 10 - In Which Jack Hosts A Fashion Show

Jack is finally ready for his first runway show, after months of work and agonizing over every small detail and making sure he keeps up appearances as a flighty party boy with enough money that he doesn't need to have talent or ambition.

But he's honestly quite proud of how everything has turned out. He's tailored the runway fashions for the trendy, upscale gallery that's hosting the show, of course, so everything is very modern and very stark. There are a lot of geometric shapes, structured collars, plunging triangular necklines and sideslits, things like that. Lots of metallic black fabrics.

It's all very cyberpunk dystopia - but chic. Because the upper echelons of society will commodify and romanticize everything, including the surveillance state.

It does appear to be a successful strategy, however. Mary has been taking pictures of his work throughout the process. Pictures that are framed to hint, to tantalize, but not to actually reveal anything. And there's been significant hype building around the show. Some of the backstage photos from the runway rehearsal have even appeared in the society sections of various newspapers. Which nobody really reads anymore, but Jack's Instagram account has simultaneously blown up, so that's probably a better indication that he's on the right track with this designer nonsense.

And he's had no trouble filling seats at the show itself. Since it's all rich assholes in attendance, they'd never do anything so gauche as to charge admission, but there's an understanding that everyone who attends the event will provide a hefty (and tax deductible, after some creative accounting) donation to both the art gallery and Jack's little design company. And Kaylen has used her extensive network of snooty art acquaintances to make sure there are plenty of critics in the audience, which should help get his name out there in the fashion world so he can start broadening their field of influence.

So the last thing that remains to be done is to personally invite the Councilor to the show. Not only because Jack is trying to develop a deeper friendship with him (and thereby cement his influence over any and all planning decisions) but also because Max wants to form another sort of relationship with Councilor Featherstone. Ie. she wants one of her girls to start “dating” the esteemed Councilor and whispering sweet nothings about their competitors into his ear instead of pillow talk. Which is also why Jack's throwing an after party at his house where the invitees can mingle with the models, get to know them a little better.

Jack had initially been rather uncomfortable with this plan. Mostly because he doesn't like people in his house messing up his things. But also because this feels just slightly skeevy in a way he hasn't been before. He's a con and a killer and a dealer, but he's not a pimp.

But when he'd talked to the girls about this plan, they'd seemed surprised at his reservations. One girl - Jackie – had even asked if the Councilor was, quote, wicked and seemed disappointed when Jack told her he had the sexual charisma of a bowl of lukewarm oatmeal. And Jack supposes it's their job, so they know what they're getting themselves into.

So he finds himself at the office building downtown (a pricey piece of real estate if Jack's ever seen one) to personally extend the glossy black invitation to both fashion show and after party to Councilor Featherstone. Who apparently has not yet grasped e-vites as a concept. And anyway, it's the personal touch that leaves a lasting impression.

And Charles has elected to accompany Jack, for whatever reason. He seems familiar with desk security and the building layout at least. Which is, perhaps, suspicious. As are the wary glances Councilor Featherstone's second in command – a man who's doing much what Max wants them to do in terms of filtering exactly what proposals actually reach the Councilor's desk, although his criteria for acceptance is more in line with being rich and titled and not a dirty foreigner - keeps giving Charles through Featherstone's glass door.

Charles's self satisfied smirk is not particularly encouraging either.

But he'd rather have any potential adversaries cowed as apposed to actively antagonistic. And Counselor Featherstone is more than happy to receive an invitation to his good friend Jack's debut fashion show. With front row seats to ensure that he gets a good look at all the models as they parade past on the catwalk. And Max's second sitting next to him - because Featherstone doesn't seem like the sort to approach a woman of his own volition and they'll need some indication of who to throw at him later tonight.

Jack's stupid fashion show is giving Anne a bitch of a headache. He's running around backstage in a fucking tizzy, because someone's makeup isn't quite right or they're wearing the wrong style of jewelry or a dozen other fucking things. And Anne's supposed to be coordinating this mess – as if that's fucking possible.

At least she's good at glaring and rude hand gestures. That appears to be all that's required to get the DJs – some poor fucks Max has by the balls – to get their shit set up and now there's some pumping electronic shit going as all the rich fucks mingle and drink cocktails, waiting for the show to start.

Fortunately, Eme'd been the one to recommend the caterers and other than pointing towards the kitchen and telling them when the show starts, she hasn't had to deal with them. And Mary's running around taking pictures of all the models and dresses and shit but she spares Anne a quick smile whenever they cross paths. So it could be worse.

And then Anne's pressed into lining up all the models in order and cuing when they're supposed to go out, so she's too busy to hear Jack's little speech at the start of the show. But by the polite applause he gets, it's a pretty good one – always been silver tongued, Jack has, and that ain't changed any with this new venture.

And it turns out he's pretty good at the whole designer thing too, which had been a surprise. Anne doesn't think much of the outfits – completely impracticable and all ugly weird dresses - but all these posh idiots are eating this shit up, if you take into account the fact that rich people excitement is a lot less loud than normal people excitement. The after party is sure to loosen them up, at least.

Jack slumps against the wall, absolutely exhausted. The fashion show had gone well, with several of the critics and many of the various high society invitees coming up to congratulate him afterwards. He's the darling of the upper crust for a night.

And in order to cement that for the future, he's in the process of throwing the mother of all parties – champagne, blow, stupid finger foods with gold leaf on them. The sort of club music that keeps coked up partiers on the dancefloor all night. And it's all getting to be a bit much.

Anne and Mary have already disappeared upstairs to bed, and Jack dearly wishes he could join them. Or at least meander in their general direction – he doubts they want him in their bed. Particularly because they're probably not even attempting to sleep what with all the noise downstairs.

And Jack doesn't really feel like laying awake for hours in his empty bed while Anne and Mary fuck down the hall, even if he wasn't bound by his persona to stay until the party ended or the sun rose. And it's starting to look like sunup will be the earlier of the two conditions, so it's just as well he's a jobless layabout who can sleep all day tomorrow.

At least Counselor Featherstone looks to be having fun with Idelle, all tucked into a sort of quiet corner with her and staring shamelessly at her tits. Which are quite noticeable in the dress she's wearing, to be fair. But Jack doesn't particularly want to spend his night thinking about that either.

So he turns on his heel and weaves through the crowd until he's reached the French doors leading to the little patio out back. He needs a minute – just one minute – of quiet and calm. Just a minute to catch his breath before he heads back into the heaving throng.

He walks out to the edge of the lawn and lets out a long sigh, head tipped towards the heavens.

“Get sick of the party, Jack?”

Charles emerges from the dark, only the glowing cherry of his cigar lighting his face, making his eyes gleam in a way that would be terrifying if Jack didn't know him so well.

But he does know Charles, so he just turns toward him, slumps against him in exhaustion. “I'll admit, it's a little harder to make it through these things without enough blow to keep an entire 80's office building supplied.”

Charles grins. “Or you're just getting old.”

“And what does that say about you, Chaz?” Jack leans back to look him in the eye. “You're the one out here in the dark all by yourself. Maybe you're the one getting too old for this shit.”

Charles eyes the house and all the guests making a disgusting mess all over Jack's fancy furniture. It's unbelievable, and he's spent his whole life, minus the last few months, living on the streets or in derelict drug dens.

“Don't know that I was ever young enough for this particular shit. Want to pretend to be desperate for a fuck and go hide upstairs?”

Jack considers it for a long moment, torn between responsibility to Max and his desire to escape the party. But fear of Max wins out – she can make is life awfully difficult. And that's without Anne giving him unimpressed looks on her behalf.

“Want to pretend to make out on the dancefloor instead?”

Charles grins. “Ok, but don't get pissy at me for grabbing your ass.” And he proceeds to steer Jack into the house and out into the middle of the dancefloor by doing just that, to the cheers and wolf whistles of everyone close enough to understand what he's doing.

Which is a fair number, because Charles is not exactly known for being subtle. And then he sticks his tongue down Jack's throat.

“I hope you know this means I'm spending tomorrow braiding your hair in retaliation,” Jack growls at him, when he's finally let up for air. “And I will give you pigtails.”

Charles just laughs, so apparently it's not a enough of a threat. Jack will find something truly menacing at some point. He swears.

[wildandsexyjacks]

Where We Left Off

Pairing: Cho Seungyoun + Reader

Genre: Fluff? Maybe a little comedy? idk

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Mild swearing

In retrospect, it would have been better to just say no. 

When your friend came to work giggling and saying she had met the perfect guy for you to get over your idiotic ex-boyfriend with, you should have thanked her and politely declined her offer to set up a date with him.

It came from a good place, a place of love and concern, you knew that much. The poor girl had to put up with your incessant crying for over a week after your breakup with Seungyoun, so of course, she was worried - but you were fine now. Really.

The problem is: from the day you first met her, you’ve always had a hard time denying her anything. She’s always so bright and cute she can get away with pretty much anything, so just to humor her you had decided to accept the offer and go on the damn date.

Now you wish you hadn’t done it.

Not that the guy’s terrible. Far from it, he seems actually pretty decent. Fresh out of med school, he wants to save lives and help people and believes health care should be free for everyone. He’s smart and handsome, speaks with a lovely accent, and would generally fit your friend’s description of him as The Perfect Guy™…. If he wasn’t so dull you can’t even remember his name. Colin? Connor? You really have no idea.

While he tells you yet another story of his life as a medical resident, you poke at your chicken with a fork and consider faking a stroke or something simply to make him shut up. Then you remember he’s a doctor. It would probably just be an opportunity for him to showcase his abilities. 

Damn.

“... And I was like ‘Mrs. Kim, you can’t smoke in here!’ but she blew smoke right on my face and went all ‘I’ll do as I please’ and…” someone clears their throat behind you, and he stops telling his story “Um... Can I help you?”

To your surprise, Cho Seungyoun goes around the table and stops by your side. He looks better than he should while being your ex, and a small corner of your mind tells you it’s not good that you noticed it. For some reason, he seems mad.

“Y/N! Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” he waves a folded paper sheet on your face “You weren’t picking up your phone so the doctor called me to confirm your appointment. Why didn’t you tell me?”

You frown. What the hell is he talking about?

“What was your plan?” Seungyoun insists, not even giving you a chance to answer, speaking slightly louder now “Dropping out of school and praying I would never find out? Well, that ship has sailed now.”

Turning his back to the guy at your table - Jesus, what is his name? - Seungyoun waggles his eyebrows in a way you know too well and then it hits you: he’s effectively making this up to try and ruin your date, even though you don’t understand why.

It takes more effort than you initially thought, but since you were looking for a way out, you manage to keep a straight face and decide to play along.

“We are over, Seungyoun. It’s none of your business.”

“Excuse me, sir.” Your date chimes in, confused “Who are you?”

“He’s leaving.” You explain.

Seungyoun flashes you one final amused smile before turning to face him - Maybe his name is Colin? He looks like a Colin.

“Who am I? Who am...? Who are you?!” He facepalms, and lets out a muffled sigh through his hand “Who’s this, Y/N? Your new boy? I will die before I let this tool raise my son!”

“Wait-” Possibly-Colin looks at him a little shocked. “What?”

“Daughter.” You correct with a deadpan. “And I’m sure he’ll be a better dad than you!”

“What?” as Possibly-Colin asks again, you try really hard not to laugh.

Seungyoun’s lower lip trembles, and for a second you think he might actually cry “It’s… It’s a girl?”

Completely panicked by now, your date stands up so fast he bumps into the table, then fishes for his wallet inside his back pocket and proceeds to drop some money on the table.

“OKAY, you two clearly have a lot to talk about so I’ll leave you to it.” he takes his jacket and phone “I’ll call you, Y/N.”

“Colin, wait!” You call, getting up from your chair.

“It’s Charles.”

Charles, of course. He leaves you at the table with your ex and made-up baby and aims for the door. When he’s finally out of sight, Seungyoun makes a sad face, pouting at you.

“I don’t think he’s going to call.”

The both of you break out laughing until you remember you’re mad at him.

“Why are you here? And more importantly what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He stands awkwardly by the table, tapping his foot on the marble floor. You can almost see the gears turning in his head to come up with a reasonable motive for him to show up out of the blue and ruin your date.

“Well, I was the one who brought you here for the first time, all those years ago, remember? You don’t own the place and it’s MY favorite restaurant too, I can come whenever I want.” he rolls his eyes, defensive “I was just having a few drinks with Hangyul-” he points to the bar and you recognize his roommate waving at you from the stool “then I saw you here with Mr. Fancy Pants and noticed you were being viciously tortured with utter boredom so I decided to help.”

He's absolutely right but you’ll never admit to it, so in an attempt to avoid lying you yank the folded paper from his hand to take a peep inside. It’s a music theory exam from a class you both go to and you remember staying up late to study together on more than one occasion. It’s his favorite subject.

“You’re a fucking troll, Seungyoun.”

He laughs and winks at you.

“You used to like that about me, darling.”

The statement makes you frown.

“Don’t call me that.”

His smile falters. “You used to like that, too.” He tries, in a small voice.

“Used to.”

You stare at each other as your dinner gets cold and some clients whisper about what’s happening. You hear the words baby and boyfriend very clearly and sigh.

“What do you want, Seungyoun?”

As if you had invited him to stay, he moves to sit on the now vacant chair, and you slide back into your seat as well. Being exposed to Seungyoun’s sweet smile is probably a set back to your arduous work on getting him out of your system, but maybe if you talk it out like grown adults and then walk your separate ways, it will hurt less to see him in class.

He shifts in his seat, then starts fiddling with a napkin while avoiding eye contact. He seems nervous, almost scared, and chooses his words very carefully before speaking: 

“Listen, I know I don’t deserve the best boyfriend award...”

“... You don’t say!” You look at him blankly and he puts his hands up in defeat.

“Okay, point taken. But come on Y/N, we were pretty good together for almost a year. It wasn’t all bad, was it?”

It wasn’t, really. In fact, Seungyoun was fun and romantic and gentle and in general a great boyfriend when he was around. The problem was that he was never around all that much, to begin with, especially after he started participating in rap battles with some guys from college. Between classes and friendships and his underground rapper stuff, he was too busy to be with you most of the time, it was like he always had more serious plans or some sort of inevitable appointment. You’d tried to be supportive, after all, he had worked so hard to get to where he was now in his career as a rising hip-hop star... But after so many months you couldn’t help feeling neglected, so you broke things off because you deserved better than what Seungyoun was willing to offer at that time. It was a difficult decision and you missed him a lot at first, but you were better now.

Sort of.

For the most part, at least.

“What do you want?” You ask again, annoyed at him for showing up when you were trying to forget him and at yourself for letting him do so.

“Nothing is fun without you.” He states matter of factly “My hip-hop gigs don’t mean anything when you’re not there to cheer me on. Cold pizza at 3 a.m tastes horrible if you’re not by my side pouring ketchup in literally everything.” He rolls his eyes “It’s a disgusting habit of yours but I miss even that. You know... I didn’t even finish watching Game Of Thrones because you weren’t there to cuss at Jon Snow with me.” He then sighs and looks at you in a way that breaks your heart “I can’t ever sleep on Friday nights anymore because you were supposed to sneak in and share the bed with me and when you don’t it just... It doesn’t feel right.”

“Seungyoun...”

“Tell me how to fix this.” He begs, clasping his hands together until his knuckles go white “Please, I need to fix this. I’ve been reflecting on what’s truly important in my life and what I hope for the future, and I can be the boyfriend you deserve if you give me another chance. I will do that, I mean it. Please, let’s start over.”

He looks the same yet slightly different - all wide eyes and trembling hands now, a picture of both hope and sorrow. Your heart aches for the millionth time in these three months you’ve been apart. 

Nothing is as fun without him too, you realize.

Not your classes, not binge-watching tv shows for two days straight on weekends, not drinking cheap wine while discussing classical music until you fall asleep on the floor of your dorm.

Certainly not having dinner dates at your favorite restaurant either, and that’s just one of the many reasons why Colin-Charles never stood a chance.

The place is packed and you can feel the heavy stares of every customer and employee near your table on the scene unfolding, but you don’t really care. Heart racing like crazy, you reach across the table - knocking the flower vase over in the process - and grab Seungyoun by the lapels. His eyes grow big as he waits for whatever is coming, and not even you are sure if you’d rather kiss him or slap him when your lips come together. Then you pull back again and leave him leaning over the table blinking at you in surprise.

“I don't think we can start over, but maybe we could pick up from where we left off.”

[zoequeenz]

Won’t Get Fooled Again (Part 2)

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

3rd Person POV

At the hospital Reid and Gideon are questioning Mr.Clurman.

“What can you tell us about the package, Mr.Clurman?” Gideon asks.

“I thought I knew what it was. Pot for an orchid. I collect them. I ordered the pot through the mail.” he explains.

“Why didn’t you take it inside?” Gideon asks another question.

“It was for my office. I was going there anyway. Thought I’d take it with me. That’s the last thing I remember.” Mr. Clurman answered.

“You had an argument with Joe Reese. Do you remember that?” Gideon asks, continuing the questioning.

“Joe was there?” Mr.Clurman asks.

“He was angry, he accused you of blowin’ him off.” Gideon told him.

“Uh....” Mr. Clurman couldn’t remember.

“Any reason he’d want to hurt you?” Gideon asks instead of pressing further if he could remember him being there.

“Joe? No. I mean, He’s a confrontational guy, but if he wanted to kill me, he’d just beat me to death.” he told Gideon.

Mr.Clurman then exclaims in pain.

“A lot of people were angry about that deal fallin apart, and they were angry at you.”

Mr.Clurman looks at Gideon confused.

“I don’t know how does that make you feel?”

“I felt awful. I thought those condos would make a lot of money for a lot of people, myself included. I thought that geologist was legit. He didn’t even take samples. He scammed us.” he says defeated.

“All those investors who lost their money… Barbara.”

“Barbara Keller?” Gideon asks.

“The first victim.” Reid states.

“What about her?” Gideon asks Mr.Clurman.

“It’s just such a shame. Such a nice lady, you know?” Mr. Clurman answers.

“It was such an easy sale. Sometimes...I felt like I took advantage of her because she’s old and lonely. Now, she’s dead. Well… I feel terrible.”

“OW!” he exclaims. It was his foot. However, it wasn’t there anymore.

“I’ll get you some help.” Gideon says leaving.

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Persephone Chase’s POV

After finding the tool box with what seemed to be filled with things to build a bomb, Hotch, Elle, and I went back in to look around the house. Elle was looking at some of the Clurman’s photos while Hotch and I were in the kitchen. Suddenly, Hotch’s phone rang.

From what little I could hear Clurman wasn’t the bomber. Just as Hotch hangs up Elle walks in with a photo.

“Look at this. This is their nephew in Texas. And according to Mrs.Clurman, he was staying with them for a month and left last week.” she tells us.

“Mercury switches are a little sophisticated for a twelve year old kid.” Hotch tells her.

“I’m not saying he’s the unsub, but boys his age like to blow stuff up.” Elle counters.

“I’ll call Morrison. He’ll contact local PD in Texas. He’ll pick up the kid and talk to him.” Hotch says.

Elle and I walk away as he calls Morrison.

“Kids these days are so odd.” I say and Elle laughs.

“I mean I don’t remember any of the boys I grew up with blowing stuff up.”

“Must be those video games.” Elle jokes.

We share a laugh. Elle’s starting to grow on me.

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3rd Person POV

As Morgan works on the bomb, Garcia sits playing a video game.

“You know, a watched bomb never assembles.” Garcia tells Morgan.

Morgan huffs in frustration “I’m down to the last few pieces, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out how they fit together or if they fit together.”

Garcia listens but still is playing her game.

“They might not even be a part of the bomb at all.” Morgan adds.

“What’s the big deal?” Garcia asks.

“You got most of it. I’d give you a B plus.”

Morgan laughs “Thanks.”

“The big deal is it could be part of his signature.”

“Ooh, signature, like a sign of the zodiac, that kinda thing?” Garcia asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, just like that.” Morgan responds jokingly.

“I was serious. I really wanted to learn that time.” Garcia says shoving Morgan.

“Signature’s the thing that they get off on, you know, like a flourish. You know, a certain kind of pipe, a certain mix of powders. Like the Unabomber, he always used something wood in his bombs.” he explains.

“I mean, I don’t know...I mean, these guys,they think they are artists or something, so they sign their work.”

“And you think by putting these last pieces together, you might find the signature?” Garcia asks.

“Yeah, and...see, sometimes the design itself is unique, so once we do put it all together, we can compare it to other exemplars in our evidence database and see if the bomb was built by somebody we may have already come across.” Morgan explains.

“What?”

“If there was another piece like this…”Garcia starts.

“No, I tried that. It doesn’t fit.” Morgan says.

“No, it could’ve been part of a longer rod that fit through the top and went all the way through.” Garcia finishes poking a wood rod through the rebuilt bomb. Morgan looks at her in shock.

“Tetris.” she says.

“Damn it.” Morgan sighs rubbing his face.

“What? Did I mess something up?” she asks worried.

“No. No, no, Garcia.” he answers.

“You nailed it. I know who built this bomb. The guy’s doing life in federal prison.”

Morgan moves to get up as Garcia stares at him in disbelief. He goes to the phone to dial Hotch.

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Persephone Chase’s POV

Just as we were on the way back to the police department, Derek called Hotch and told him he knew who the bomber was. He also said he would send photos of the finished bomb to us so we could look at what we were dealing with. Just as we arrived so did Gideon and Spencer. We all met up before we got in so Hotch could fill Gideon in, I immediately went to Spencer. We didn’t say anything just smiled real big at each other and began to follow the rest of the team in. Sometimes, I didn’t need to say anything just being around him was good enough. We walked into a private office and Hotch got out a laptop.

“Morgan emailed these over. The three on the left are the bombs from yesterday. The one on the right’s from the evidence room at Quantico.” Hotch announces as we all crowd around the screen.

“They’re all identical. Made with steel reinforcement rods.” Spencer says.

“Adrian Bale.” Gideon announces.

“Who?” asks Detective Morrison.

“He held our agents in a standoff in Boston last year. He took out six agents and a hostage with one of his bombs.” Hotch explained.

“So you’re thinking he’s behind this?” Elle asks.

“Possibly.” Spencer answers.

“But, he’s in prison.” I add.

“He’s got kind of a cult following, like Charles Manson. It could just be a copycat.” Spencer adds.

“There’s one way to find out. Let’s put the screws to this guy.” Morrison says.

“ No, no, no. Bale’s too smart. If we want information from him, we have to handle him carefully, and even then you have to assume that road will lead nowhere.” Gideon tells us.

“You’re saying the connection to Bale doesn’t help us at all?” Morrison asks.

“No. I’m just saying let us handle Bale.” Gideon responds.

“Look, we just heard from local Texas PD. You were right about Clurman’s nephew. He admitted the bomb stuff was his, which is great for the Clurman’s, but it leaves us with zero suspects. So what do you suggest my men do now?” Morrison asks.

“Proceed from the profile.” Gideon says matter of factly.

“I didn’t know we had a profile.” Morrison says.

Gideon tells Morrison to round up his men. We all meet up in their bullpen to go over the profile. While Gideon paces, Hotch stands to the side, Elle stands to my left, and Spencer and I sit next to each other on a desk. It was nice to be next to him. We were so close but there was only maybe an inch between us. Maybe I could slowly move closer while Gideon is talking to touch shoulders. Goodness did I sound like a high schooler. But I can’t help it, he’s just too darn cute.

“When we’re dealing with a bomber we’re talking about someone who’s non-confrontational. If you bumped into him in a cafe, he’d apologize. Even if it wasn’t his fault.” Gideon starts.

“We would classify this bomber as highly organized based on the meticulous design of his bombs. It means above average intelligence. He probably has a skilled job, a trade, one that allows him to work alone. That’s how he was able to make a sophisticated device without raising suspicion. Furniture maker, jeweler, etcetera.” Hotch explains.

“Background in explosives?” asks Morrison.

“No, not necessarily. You’re thinking about a type that likes to blow things up. Gives them an emotional or sexual release. Death? Secondary.” Gideon explains.

“Then what’s this guy doing?” an officer asks.

“Murdering.” Gideon bluntly answers.

“Bombs? Just weapons. And these attacks, they are not random.”

“Well, how do you know that?” another officer questions.

“By process of elimination. We know bombers fall into a discreet number of categories according to motive. There’s the terrorist whose aim is to spread fear. We expect him to strike in a populous area like a subway. There’s the politically motivated bomber. He makes a statement by choosing a symbolic target like an abortion clinc. Then there’s our unsub. He made bombs designed to kill and he chose his victims specifically by placing the bombs at their stoops. That tells us he has a direct motive. Statistically, he bombs for profit or to conceal a crime.  And it tells us how we’re going to find him. Through the people he killed.” Hotch explained.

“Somewhere among the three victims, there is a direct motive. Keep digging.” Gideon says.

“Thanks.” Hotch says closing the meeting.

“If you have any questions, we’ll be around.”

Gideon then tells us he will be going to the prison to talk to Bale. Gideon asked Spencer to come with him. So as he was collecting his bag I said goodbye. Bale was an interesting man and what if he tried to hurt my Spency. I mean I doubt that Gideon would let him near the man but I was still worried.

“Be careful okay, I don’t know who I’m gonna have movie night Friday’s with.” I say to him.

“Don’t worry Percy. I’m a big boy. I’m also in the FBI in case you didn’t notice.” he responds.

I laugh “Whatever, stay safe. See ya when you get back.” I say then kiss his cheek quickly turning around and walking away to hide my blush. Hotch, Elle, JJ, and I all stay back to work on finding a suspect. We are sitting in a private board room to have a bit more quiet when JJ walks in.

“How we doing?” she asks.

“Frustrated.” Elle responds.

“I can’t see why anyone would want to kill a little old lady who collects cats and coins.”

“Unless somebody wanted the coins.” Hotch says.

“I spent a good chunk of my childhood looking for a 1994 penny worth thousands.”

We all stop and look at him. This was something I could maybe see Hotch doing. It was cute. When he realizes we’ve stopped working he looks up.

“Yes, I was a little bit of a nerd. Is that so surprising?” he asks.

I shake my head with a small smile as Elle says “Not to me.” as she gives JJ and I a look that says “not at all”. Then the phone rings. It's Derek with new information for us.

“Morgan?” Hotch asks.

“Yeah. I just got the lab results from the powder residues on the bombs. Ammonia nitrate, potassium chloride, and aluminum powder. Nobody uses that mixture, Hotch.” Derek explains.

“Nobody but Bale.” Hotch fires back.

“That’s right. And the closer I look at these things, the more they’re the same. Same weld pattern,  same switch assembly, same thread sizing. It’s weird, man.” Derek informs us.

“This guy’s not building bombs, he’s forging them. That’s the other reason I’m calling you. Bale wrote addresses on his packages in block letters with blue ink. I’m thinking our guy’s doing the same.”

“Ok. I’ll set up a press conference, make sure the public knows.” JJ says texting on her phone.

“Thanks, Morgan.” Hotch says hanging up.

Just as he was done with that call his phone rings and he steps away for a second while Elle and I continue to work.

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3rd Person POV at U.S. Penitentiary

Adrian Bale sits in his cell when his name is called. He has a visitor.

“You know why I’m here?” Gideon asks the man.

“This guy in Palm Beach, right?” Bale answers shrugging.

“The Palm Beach bomber. Somebody’s got to give him a better name.”

Gideon sighs “He uses your bombs, your designs.”

“Well, he should be careful. Those things are dangerous.” he says nonchalantly.

“Adrian...you can’t fool me.” Gideon says.

“If you’re involved in this in any way and you do not help me, I will make your life even worse than it is now.”

“Oh, but no, actually, I can fool you because I fooled you before. And now there’s another me out there, watching, waiting.” Bale responds.

NEXT CHAPTER

[misssophiachase]

I have another drabble request (in case ur still taking them). KC are getting married and are about to say their, less than conventional, wedding vows which leaves some guests in tears of laughter and others in confusion.

This is a fun and sweet one, hope you like it : ) I’m no vow expert so consulted the internet for some ideas, so it’s a mixture of mine and others. 

One and Only

It was perfect. Everything was perfect.

The weather was a sunny 79 degrees, the sky a bright blue colour with a slight breeze.

The white gazebo stood on the grass at the banks of the river. In front of it, antique chairs stood in rows with white rose petals scattered across the aisle.

The music began, the opening strains of Somewhere Over the Rainbow sounding out. The Bride wore an off-the-shoulder, ivory gown, her hair falling in loose waves and clutching a bunch of lavender wildflowers.     

The groom, his smile wide as she walked toward him, dressed in a grey, Armani suit impatiently waiting at the end of the aisle to call her his wife. 

1 week earlier

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?”

“Unless you’re talking about sex, I’m not interested, love,” he murmured, his gaze still firmly trained on the book he was reading. 

“It’s two weeks, Klaus, I hardly think your manhood is going to suffer from the wait.”

“My manhood?” He asked, leaving the world of Charles Dickens to look at her curiously. “I think someone has been reading too many of those sexy novels lately. Something to help get you through the trivial 14 day hiatus, I assume?”

She blushed; her creamy cheeks tinged pink a telling sign she’d been caught out. “Stop changing the subject,” she whined. 

“Well, I can’t help it that it was the first thing that came to mind,” he shrugged his shoulders. 

“Your vows, Klaus. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose, love?” 

“We don’t have to tell anyone,” she replied, sitting next to him on the couch. “I am very good at acting surprised, I was the best actress in drama club at school.”

“Of course, you were,” he smiled, pulling her closer and placing a lingering kiss on her temple. “However, I am not and, even if I was there is no way you are hearing my vows until we are standing opposite each other with you in a gorgeous, white dress.”

“Ivory, actually,” she admitted. 

“Wow, you really want to ruin all the surprises at once, don’t you? Maybe it’s the lack of...” 

“You’re obsessed,” she pouted. 

“Well, when you’ve experienced it before it’s difficult to think about anything else,” he argued. “Don’t you want our vows to mean something?”

“Of course,” she murmured. “I want everything to be perfect that’s all.”

“Well, given the way you’ve planned this thing I don’t think that will be a problem,” he smiled knowingly. “But our vows are the most important thing we’ll say on the day, and call me selfish, but I want you to hear them for the first time then, no rehearsals and definitely no showing each other beforehand.”

“Fine,” she agreed, albeit reluctantly. “But when you hear what I’ve got you might regret that decision.”

“I’m willing to take my chances, love,” he smiled putting his arms around her. 

“The couple has written their own vows to share with each other,” the celebrant said, looking between the two, their hands interlaced and excited smiles on their faces. “Caroline?”

“I’m a perfectionist, everyone knows it,” their guests laughed knowingly, her husband-to-be as well. “I like everything to be just right and for that reason I plan things meticulously.”

“The one thing I didn’t plan was meeting you,” she murmured, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You came into my life at a time when I didn’t know I needed you.” Her hands were shaking now as she attempted to regain her composure.

“Klaus, you made me realise that true love is possible and it’s okay that I didn’t plan it because it has turned out to be the best and sweetest surprise of all. You make me a better person and I know together we can do anything life throws our way. I promise to love you forever, to infinity and beyond.” She sent him as goofy grin while wiping away a stray tear.

“Also, while I have you here and given this is my only opportunity to say something, here goes nothing.” 

"I vow never to steal your covers, unless you are hogging them which, let’s be frank, is all the time." Not expecting her to verbalise that, their guests laughed along with her.   

"Also, I vow to protect you from spiders as long as we both shall live." 

“That was only once and you know it,” Klaus interrupted, unable to help himself. 

“And lastly, I vow to always let you have the last blueberry pancake."  She grinned; Klaus leaned forward instinctively to give her a kiss.

“We’re not up to that part yet,” the celebrant whispered before he could follow through, Klaus decided that after the ceremony he’d kiss his wife whenever he liked.  

“Caroline Forbes,” he murmured. “You are the love of my life, my soulmate, my partner in crime, my everything. I have loved you since that fateful day we met, and I will love you until we are old and grey. I promise to uplift and support you and to share my life with you, every single, beautiful moment.” He smiled, tears threatening to spill.  

Given the whimpering and sniffing coming from their guests behind them, they obviously felt it too.

“And while I have you,” he murmured, echoing her sentiments. “I also promise to frustrate and challenge you especially about the merits of eating cereal in bed at night.”

"I vow to be there when you start Netflix marathons and finish actual marathons even if it’s Love is Blind." She fought the urge to roll her eyes, Klaus secretly loved that program and he knew it. 

“And lastly, I vow to be the best parts of me that fit perfectly with the best parts of you.”

Caroline cooed happily then leaned forward to kiss her soon-to-be husband, the celebrant sending her a disapproving look not to proceed.

“Now that Caroline and Klaus have made their vows to each other, we will exchange the rings.”

The rest of the ceremony seemed to fly past in a blur of tears, laughter and smiles. Finally, the moment had come and the new husband and wife were able to seal their partnership with a kiss. An extra long one, just to annoy the celebrant who seemed to dislike spontaneity. 

So as not to forget, Klaus and Caroline had their vows framed so they could look at them whenever they liked. Sometimes it was to recall the happiest day of their lives and other times it was after a fight to remind themselves why they fell in love and got married in the first place. 

Years later, their children would frame their own vows and so too their grandchildren. It would become a family tradition that would carry on forever.