#just kidding... I know it's smoother because I played it a couple years ago

[gwarden123]

You know, maybe it was just because it was an RPG and I wasn’t paying all that much attention when I was a teenager, but the shift to “this is my ship and I am in charge, you all exist to support my self-actualisation” felt a little more smooth in KotOR than it does in Jedi: Fallen Order...

[dreamescapeswriting]

One Summer In Paris ~ Finale ~ JJK [M]

WORD COUNT: 4.7K

GENRE: Fluffy, romance, ex-lovers to lovers, 

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

DESCRIPTION: Jeon Jungkook had always loved Paris with its amazing views, incredible museums and the small Bookshop right across from the Effiel Tower. It was were he spent a lot of his summer breaks as a kid so he loved it well into his adulthood. There was one bookshop he rented a room in the summer that changed his life. It was a place where he felt happy and at peace whenever he had the chance to stay there. Where he fell in love for the first time and had his first heartbreak, a lot of firsts for him were in Paris. But what happens when he goes back to the same book shop four years later and finds the love of his life in the arms of another with a daughter who looks suspiciously like him…

THEMES: SMUT CHAPTER Single Parent, Jungkook x Fem!Reader, self insert, Smut will be included in a later chapter

MASTERLIST || PREVIOUS || EPILOGUE

After a week of the boys being in Paris the news that Jungkook was a father was being spread throughout the internet and world through the corrected sources this time though. He had to do a formal interview with a magazine company who worked for BigHit and were under their payroll so that the right things were being spoken about. No-one was allowed to just come up to you or Areum in the street or there would be some serious consequences. The relationship between you and Jungkook was never announced since neither of you knew what was happening just yet. As far as the media was concerned you were close friends just raising your daughter to the best of your abilities.

After some investigating everything came to light on how Jungkook was found, it was a mixture of some teenage girl tweeting out a video asking if anyone else thought it looked like Jungkook as well as an “unknown” source. The unknown source came to light as David who’s ego had been bruised too badly that he decided to take it out on both you and Jungkook. Calling everyone he thought of, telling magazines online that he knew where Jungkook was. After one person saw it with the first photograph the teen had tweeted out the news spread like wildfire. David got what was coming to him though, Bighit were suing him for slander against Jungkook.

 All of the magazines painted him as the good guy who had no idea that his daughter existed and you were painted to be the girl who didn't know who Jungkook was at the time of the relationship, it was easier and less messy that way. The world didn't need to know all of the details about your lives together, they didn't need to know every aspect of what you and Jungkook went through. 

"What are you thinking about?" Jungkook questioned when he saw you looking at Areum with Taehyung and Namjoon - they were playing dress-up after just getting back from Disney land that day. The boys had insisted on taking her - along with guards so no one would bother them. 

"How different her life is going to be now." You admitted as Jungkooked wrapped his arms around your body and laid his chin on your shoulder. Things with Jungkook had been a little on and off for the last week neither of you had enough time or space to talk about what was happening. You acted like a real couple but you weren't enterally sure what you were since he was famous...The father of your daughter but it didn't mean you were or weren't dating. 

"Jungkook what-" 

"Let me take you out tonight," You spoke at the same time but you stopped your sentence first and stared into his eyes wondering what to say to him, you were going to ask him what you were together but now he was asking you out on a date.

"What-What?" You stuttered out turning your whole body to look at him this time ignoring everyone else that was in the room with you. 

"Let me take you out, just you and me...Please?" Jungkook had been trying to think of a way to talk to you about life and how things were going to be from now on all week and this was the only way he could think of doing it properly. He'd put so much thought into everything and he was finally ready to have a serious conversation about it all. 

"I didn't think you were allowed to go out publically." You whispered as you thought back to his manager telling him off for trying to sneak out a couple of nights ago. He shrugged his shoulders looking over at his manager who was reading through what everyone was thinking of Jungkook and his family on his tablet. That was what you were, you were a family even if you weren't together anymore...or yet. Some fans had reacted better than others, others claimed that you were faking, Areum wasn't truly his but if anyone took the time to look at Areum or spend time with her they would be able to tell she was in fact related to Jungkook. 

"I'm not but, who said it has to be public...Trust me okay? I'll make this all perfect." You sighed thinking about it for a second, it would be nice to get out of the hotel you seemed to have been stuck in all week. Management had moved you in once the scandal dropped, the shop had been closed since - you wondered what Grace had been thinking about all of this but at the same time after what she told you about what she said to Jungkook, a part of you didn't care.

"I trust you," He smiled leaning forward to kiss your cheek before he made his way over to their manager, you watched him for a couple of seconds before deciding to go and rescue Namjoon and Taehyung from the makeup your daughter had gotten that day. 

"My little princess seems to have turned the princes into princesses." You giggled as you swooped Areum up into your arms and blew a raspberry onto her shoulder playfully, she screamed wildly shouting that you were a dragon trying to steal the princess away. 

"We'll save you!" Taehyung announced loudly pulling out a fake foam sword as he started to hit you on the leg with it but you laughed evilly and ran away with Areum.

Jungkook kept his hands over your eyes as he leads you through the bookshop, you knew where he was taking you since you both had to run away from the hotel while the boys distracted the manager.

"Fuck," You groaned as your arm came into contact with the fifth bookshelf in a row, Jungkook hissed as he flinched. He didn't mean to bang you into every shelf in the shop, in his head this had gone over a lot smoother.

"Sorry." He mumbled as he carefully sat you down on the blanket he had laid out for you already. He'd snuck off to the bookshop earlier that afternoon to make sure everything was ready and now he could finally bring you back here. He was trying to recreate one of your dates together and have it be a nice little surprise. 

"You can open them in a second, hang on." He made sure your eyes were closed before rushing off to turn the main lights off in the store. 

"Open," Your eyes slowly fluttered open and you looked around at the shop floor letting your eyes adjust to the dim lighting. You were snuggled in between two bookshelves, a picnic blanket was on the floor surrounded by small battery-operated candles you knew what he was doing the second you saw it all. 

"Jungkook-" You looked up at him and that was when you spotted the fairy lights lining the top of the shelves to look like a starry night sky. You gasped as your eyes began to well up with tears, he was recreating a night you spent out by the river under the stars. You'd fallen asleep in his arms and he had to carry you home, it was also the night you gave him a tattoo. A small one on his arm just above the inside of his elbow, your initials.

"I got all your favourite foods as well if they're still your favourite. I mean I don't know if you changed it I heard that pregnancy can sometimes effect-" He was cut off when you kissed his lips softly to stop him from nervously rambling on about the food inside of the picnic basket. 

When you pulled away from his lips you looked into his eyes and whispered to him

"This is perfect," He began turning a bright red which made you giggle at the thought that a simple and small kiss could do that to him. It was good to know that you still had that kind of effect on him. 

"Thanks for this," You whispered again as he handed you a small plate and began to load it up with different foods you'd told him you loved before. 

Hours later you were just laying together talking over things when he asked you a question, 

"Do you remember our last date...Before I left?" You were both laying on the floor staring up at the fairy lights, your head was resting on his arm as he questioned you on random things about his time there. The date had been going amazingly so far, there were no phone calls from the boys, no one had tried to interrupt you and it just felt as though nothing had changed over the last four years. As if he hadn't been away and there was a huge fight with one another. It was exactly the way it was supposed to be. How things should have stayed if you had told him. 

"Was that the one where we came back and slept in front of the fireplace?" You questioned him as you popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth, he hummed while nodding his head at you. 

"Yeah I remember it," You started giggling as you remembered Jungkook that night. He'd been so nervous about something that he'd knocked wine all over the floor and all down your dress. 

"You covered me in red wine," You started laughing again and he nervously laughed about it scratching the back of his neck as he remembered it, 

"I was going to tell you that night that I loved you...Then I was going to come clean about who I was...I was always going to tell you, Y/n." Your heart stopped as you heard him admitting this to you. All these years you thought that he never told you because he didn't trust you or something, 

"You were?" He nodded his head as he started to play with your hair, he couldn't bring himself to look at you as he admitted all of this. 

"I was so nervous about it that I spilt drinks, my palms were sweating and I couldn't breathe. I told you when you were asleep though," He chuckled pathetically making his chest rise and fall, you turned to lay on your side facing him and put your head on his chest just laying there as you giggled softly. 

"Doesn't really count if I'm asleep," He smiled weakly as he began rubbing your lower back with his hand just enjoying his time with you while he could. 

The two of you sat there in silence for a few more seconds before you looked down at the floor beside him and bit your lip, 

"I didn't know I was pregnant when I saw you last...I said it to hurt you...I-I didn't know." He looked at you as you began to frown at the floor, 

"I knew you weren't like that so I figured as much." You sniffled a little and sat up as you looked at him seriousness coming into the atmosphere now. 

"I-I wanted to tell you but I didn't know how to get into contact with you." He watched as you seemed to look in pain as you told him this, it had been something that had been weighing on your chest for a while since you told him that and you hated yourself for doing it to him. 

"We didn't really end on good terms...I should have tried to contact you as well...I really do love you Y/n-" He stopped as he realised he said "love" instead of the past tense. It was true. He'd been in love with you since the moment he laid eyes on you, he'd never believed in love at first sight until then. He'd always had it set in his mind that when he met the love of his life he would hear alarm bells but instead of alarm bells when he met you it was the church bells and a whole choir singing loudly so he could hear and know it was you.

"I-I love you too." Your eyes were wide at first but you knew it was true, there was no one else that you could ever love more than Jungkook - other than Areum but that was a different kind of love. There was no one else in the world that was more perfect for you. 

It happened suddenly, you were laid below Jungkook as he kissed you passionately, his hands keeping him pressed above you while your hands worked their way into his hair. 

"I love you," He whispered against your lips as he kissed you again, you giggled pulling him down closer to your lips. 

"I love you too," He smirked hearing the words leave your mouth he never wanted you to stop saying them to him, 

"Say it again," He whined out desperately as you pulled back from the kiss to look him in the eyes.

"I love you Jeon Jungkook," He smiled brightly bringing you into another kiss, the sparks from before all still there. The same church bells and choir singing loudly for him to know that this was real, this is where his heart belonged.

An intense makeout session lead to you sitting on the floor of the book shop now holding a stick and poke tattoo kit Jungkook had brought along with him again, just like the first time you gave him a tattoo. 

"This is insane, you can go and get a real one Guk." You looked at him nervously and he shook his head waiting for you to just tattoo him. This meant more to him than going to have a real one done, 

"I want you to be the one to do this," He admitted as he handed you everything you needed. He'd show you what he wanted done on his arm, 

"Where?" You questioned looking at Areum's name written in a fancy font on a piece of paper. He stripped out of his shirt to reveal his tattooed arms and you couldn't help but look at them all. Wanting to know every story to each and every one of them but then your eyes found his first one. The small one that you'd done before, 

"I want it here," He whispered pointing to the blank space below your initials on his arm, as soon as you saw the initials you felt a warm feeling spread all over your body.

"Y-You didn't cover it?" He shook his head as your eyes welled up with tears, the thought of him keeping a part of you with him all the time made you want to cry. 

"I-I kept your shirt..." You admitted as your tears began to leave your eyes, your vision returning to normal as you took hold of the kit and got ready to tattoo him. He had a huge smile on his face as he thought about you snuggled into his shirt whenever you missed him or something. 

"You're sure?" You questioned as you held his arm in your hand referring to the tattoo once again, 

"Positive," With that you began inking his arm with the tools while holding him steady, apologising every three seconds in case it was hurting him too much.

"It's perfect," He whispered as you applied some tattoo goo he'd brought along with him before placing the tattoo under some cling film to keep it protected for the first night. 

"Just like her," You whispered as you stared at your handy work, it looked really good to say you'd only ever done small ones before. 

"She is," Jungkook chuckled while holding your hand in his. The air was silent but it wasn't the awkward kind, it was just a nice silenced between you both before he began leaning into you again. 

"Say it again." He begged as he looked into your eyes. You knew what he was talking about without him saying it, it was all he ever wanted to hear from now on. 

"No, I've said it all night." You groaned jokingly as you tried to push him away from you but he dragged you to sit on his lap and whispered it in your ear as he kisses your neck softly. 

"Say it," He begged while kissing down your jaw, each kiss making you needier each second. 

"Say it." He growled pulling you down on his lap harder making you whimper, this time it was an order and you pushed your hands into his hair whimpering as he kissed your neck.

"I, Y/n Y/l/n love you, Jeon Jungkook." He smirked before kissing up to your lips and kissing you roughly, you bit down on his lip playfully earning a groan from him and you giggled. 

"Fuck, I love you too, I love you so much Y/n," He whimpered as he laid your down below him on the floor, you wrapped your legs around his waist not wanting him to go away just yet but he didn't. He ran his tongue along your bottom lip and you granted him access, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth while you sucked on it a little bit. He ground his hips down into you while smirked, you moaned as you felt how hard he was behind the jeans he was wearing. 

"Needy?" You teased running your hand down the front of his chest before palming him through the rough fabric of his pants, 

"Very." He grunted as you began to undo his belt buckle, pushing him to lay down on the floor as you worked your way out of his jeans. 

"W-What are you doing-" He groaned loudly as you took him from his boxer and began massaging him in your hand, he was so much bigger than you remembered and his tip was bright red. 

"So needy baby," You cooed at him before looking up into his eyes, he watched you, infatuated with what you were going to do. 

"P-Please-" Your tongue began licking small but fast strokes on his head, paying more attention to his slit which was already dripping with precum. You placed the tip into your mouth sucking him clean while he threw his head back against the floor and moaned out your name. 

"Fuck please...I-I need more," You looked up at him while pumping him in your hand, he looked so breathtaking laid out for you like this. Needy and begging for you, you licked the underside of his cock from base to tip making sure to coat him in enough salvia so you could glide him in and out of your mouth with his but he moaned out as soon as you touched him. 

"Shit baby-" As soon as your mouth was around his cock it was as if a switch had gone off in his mind, he was no longer the whining and begging boy he'd just been for you but now he was grunted and finding it hard to control himself. 

You could see he was debating taking your head in his hands so you reached for his hands while you bobbed your head slowly, you placed his hands into your hair and nodded slight giving him the all-clear to take over. 

"Fuck I love you so fucking much." He forced your head down until your nose was pressed against his groin, you held back the gag and tears wanting him to feel as much pleasure as possible and he moaned out. Moving your head softly with his hands as he began to buck up into your mouth, 

"So fucking warm, I bet you're dripping aren't you." He smirked watching the way you avoided his gaze, he continued thrusting into your mouth as you whined out around him sending vibrations through his body. 

"Fuck, pull off baby, pull off," You pulled away and a sad expression appeared on your face, you wiped your lips instantly thinking you'd done something wrong when he attacked you with hungry kisses. Ripping your shirt open before removing your skirt in what seemed like one movement. You were left in your black panties and matching bra, 

"Expecting something tonight?" He chuckled while playing with the band of your panties, you shook your head so he ripped the panties off throwing the thin fabric somewhere in the shop. 

"Jungkook! That was my only good pair." He pushed you down onto the floor, pulling your ass into the air while keeping your chest flat on the floor. 

"I'll buy you some new ones," He whispered as he bent down to admire your core, smirking as he watched just how wet you were. 

"You always were so needy for me," He smirked running one finger over your folds making your hips buck for more but he held you in place, 

"If you're a good girl, good things will come." He placed a kiss on your core making you whine out and close your eyes tightly. 

"Please," You practically begged him and so he pushed his tongue into you making your eyes widen at the feeling, it had been so long since you'd had anything nearly as passionate as this. He hummed into your cunt before swirling his tongue inside of you, using his thumb to attack your clit. 

"So fucking wet, you taste so good baby girl," The name made you clench around his two fingers that were buried knuckle deep inside of you. 

"You like that? You like it when I call you baby girl?" He questioned pushing his fingers in and out of you roughly while you whimpered below him not being able to form words from the feeling of him.

"I'm taking that as a yes," He chuckled wickedly before pushing his tongue back into your cunt, moaning into your whenever you'd clench around his tongue. 

"Ugh shit, Jungkook!" You screamed out gripping onto the blanket below you as you came unexpectedly and out of nowhere onto his tongue. Your body slipped leaving you to lay down on the blanket, your ass still in the air just a little, 

"Good girl," He whispered turning you around to face him, you licked your lips as you roughly brought him down into another kiss trying to position him between your legs. You wanted to feel him inside of you, you wanted to feel him filling your walls up the way he used to.

"U-Agh fucking Jesus," Jungkook moaned as he slowly pushed into you, he kept himself steady holding himself in place at your hilt as you tried to adjust to him again. You could feel every inch of him inside of you which already made your head spin at the thought of it. The number of times you'd brought yourself to the edge just thinking about him touching you instead of yourself was never enough. You could never make yourself feel the way he was making you feel right now.

"M-Move," You whispered to him before kissing him roughly again, he followed your orders and began to push in and out of you slowly at first making you moan into his mouth. 

"So tight," He grunted taking your right leg and putting it over his shoulder, the sudden movement making you cry out in pleasure as he hit you deeper than before. 

"T-There, T-There! Right there." You repeated as he continued to hit you at that same spot over and over again making you cry out, you ran your nails down his bare back and he smirked as you clenched with each thrust. 

"That's it, baby, let me feel you do that again." He roughly slammed into you holding himself in place and you screamed out his name rolling your head back and arching your back off the floor. 

"JUNGKOOK!" Nothing could compare to this, he continued to roughly hit into that spot that made your eyes roll back and the fairy lights look like real stars. 

"F-Faster...M-More, need more." You whimpered wanting him to hit that exact spot more and more with each thrust and he moaned back at you as he began to change his pace. Swiftly pushing in and out of you roughly watching the way your head rolled back and you moaned out his name. 

"S-Shit baby, I- I can't keep this up." He admitted as he began rubbing your clit with his thumb and your whole body began to shake, your thighs aching as you could feel the pressing orgasm begin to rise up in your body.

"C-Cum...I-I wanna cum...F-Feel you cum," Your sentence was a mess as were you but you were begging for him to cum and to let you cum. 

"Together?" He whispered while kissing you softly not matching his thrusts which were still rough and quick, you managed to nod while moaning out his name and he smirked feeling you getting closer with him. 

"S-Shit," You cried out as his thumb began to rub your clit in rougher circles, tugging on it a little making you whimper and gasp as your orgasm began to build. The tightness in your stomach grew tighter until you snapped around him, your legs wrapping around his waist to hold him deep inside of you as you came around his length. 

"Jungkook, shit." You whimpered out as he kissed you roughly, cumming into you as you held him deep, your walls clenching around him even after you came down from your high. 

The fireplace was crackling as you laid in front of it, naked and sprawled out beside Jungkook who was sweating from the activities you'd just done again for the sixth time that night. There was one thing playing on your minds though, one lingering thought that neither of you wanted to talk about but had to talk about sooner or later. That was about him going home. Going to Korea.

"We have to talk about something," He whispered as you laid your head down on his sweaty chest nodding along to him, you knew what was coming. 

"I have to go soon...But I don't want this to end...I don't want to be away from you and Areum." The thought had crossed your mind about how this would all work out, being in different countries while you shared a daughter and were hopelessly in love with one another.

"I don't want to be away from you either." You admitted as you looked up into his eyes, resting your chin on his chest as you stared into his eyes. 

"W-Well what- What if you-" You knew what he was trying to say and ask of you and again the thought had crossed your mind, all of the positives about it but then all of the negatives came along with it. 

"Move to Korea?" You questioned to make sure you were on the same page as him. He nodded his head slowly while linking your hands with his and starting at you sadly, 

"I-I wouldn't know how to do that...W-What if things go bad between us what-"

"Ignore the what-ifs, this...This is perfect. What we have it right..." You knew he was right on that part, there was nothing that could happen between you and Jungkook that could break you apart anymore. You were hopelessly in love with him and nothing was ever going to change that.

"I wouldn't know how to move to another country...I-I don't even speak much Korean, how would Areum go to school." You sat up as you panicked thinking about everything but Jungkook took your arms in his hands and shook his head. 

"We can fix that, I can make things work...She can be homeschooled, We can look into visa's and stuff." He whispered trying to reassure you that everything would be okay, the longer he held you the more you knew it was the right thing to do and the more you thought that nothing could go wrong with this, with him by your side. 

"I suppose there are lots of huge book stores in Korea I could get a job in..." He smiled brightly as he heard you calming down and began to talk about what you could do there. You'd always expressed your love for travelling and you'd never been before.

"I-I'll have to talk to Areum about it and Grace...I'll need to find someone that will take the shop..." You began planning out what was going to happen in your head but Jungkook just brought you into a soft and loving kiss as he pulled you close to him again. 

"Everything will work out, I promise." He whispered as he leant down to kiss you once again, running his hands up your sides as he got excited over the thought of getting to live out the rest of his life with you.

A/n: This fic was super short and sweet but I hope you guys enjoyed it!  Thank you to those who took the time to read it! I hope you can enjoy any future works I aim to put out 🥰💞 It will probably be a while until my next series as I’m working on a Stray Kids Minho one!

MASTERLIST || PREVIOUS || EPILOGUE

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @rjsmochii @bisexualmess007​ @innersooya​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​ @neverthefirstchoice​ @jikooksgirl19​ @jungkooksseuphoria​ @queenmasterxx​ @oosnapitskat​ @janieooo​ @preciouschimine​    @koremis​ @keijilovebot​ @silscintilla​ @mayafravoli

[thewritewolf]

Cat Crossing Chapter 2

As bad as it was to accidentally reveal his identity to one of his friends, Adrien was sure he could smooth things over somehow. After all, who could possibly be smoother than him?

I posted this on Ao3 a few days ago, but completely forgot to post it here too! I wrote Cat Crossing last year for @sweetsweetsweetie‘s birthday and decided to give the much-demanded second chapter as this year’s present.

You can find the first chapter here for some Animal Crossing, Marichat goodness. Read on to see Marinette being a super flirt, and Adrien being completely unable to handle it.

Enjoy!

-----

Adrien had a fitful night’s sleep after he panic-disconnected from Animal Crossing. He wasn’t entirely sure if doing that would damage his save file or not, but he just couldn’t bring himself to worry about that right now.

No, there was a much more serious, pressing issue at the moment - Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a civilian, had discovered his identity through her clever deductive skills and through not fault of his own. At least, that was how he’d phrase it to Ladybug. Hopefully she believed him. Because otherwise…? Well, he was going to be in trouble.

“So, what’s the plan, big cat?” Plagg asked, sounding far too chipper about all this, with his wide grin and the amused gleam in his eyes. Adrien would have thought that his kwami would have been the more scared of the two of them, but there was no time to question that now.

Especially since his kwami had asked him that same question last night after Adrien had explained just how badly he’d messed up - and just who had discovered his true identity. All he could say then was that he’d sleep on it and something would come to him in the morning.

Well, the morning was here and as he stepped off the limo dropping him off at school, he had absolutely nothing to show for it. The only bright side is that he was here early enough that he could still hash things out with Plagg before classes started. With that intent in mind, Adrien rushed inside and made a beeline for the empty lockers.

“Okay…” Adrien ran his fingers through his hair, trying his best to keep cool and stay optimistic. “Well, at least it was her and not some random person, right?”

Plagg’s grin only grew. “Oh yeah, definitely. Probably the best person you could have accidentally revealed yourself to.”

“Right…” Adrien gave Plagg a suspicious glance. “We know Marinette. She’s shy, she’s a good friend, she’s honest. She wouldn’t intentionally reveal my identity, right?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Plagg pretended to inspect his paws. “She places a real high value on honesty, kid. And she’s best pals with the one and only Ladyblogger - a fact you know only all too well.”

“Yes, and-”

“Cuz you stare at pictures of Ladybug on there all the time.”

“Not all the time-”

Plagg shrugged. “Eh, close enough. But back to pigtails - what’s the plan?”

“Well, we know she’s shy, right? So what if I really ramp up the Chat Noir charm on her? And while she’s still trying to get her bearings I tell her how important it is to keep identities secret and everything.”

Adrien nodded slowly to himself, feeling the framework of a plan coming together. A few zingers and flirty lines started forming in his head. “That should buy us enough time until we see Ladybug again. I bet she’ll know what to do.”

It was at that moment Adrien closed the locker door and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw that Marinette was oh so casually leaning up against the locker beside him.

“I didn’t catch that last part,” she said, a knowing smirk on her face. “Who will know what to do? Or, even better, just who were you talking to?”

“I… um…” Adrien swallowed, confronted with Marinette leaning toward him, arms behind her back and a look of serene curiosity on her face, but with an insidious glee in her eyes. “Just my...”

Her voice was just barely above a whisper as she spoke into his ear. “...Kwami, maybe?”

All the gears in Adrien’s head ground to a halt and in the face of her… well, face, which was little more than a hand’s breadth away from his own. Coming up with coherent thoughts was just about impossible and all he could do was go, “Uhhhh…”

“I thought so.” Her smirk returned. “See you in class!”

With a wink that did things to his heart, Marinette walked away, her hands still held behind her back. Adrien was frozen in place, staring at the spot she had been in as the sound of her humming faded off into the distance.

For a moment, he wondered about how she knew about kwamis. But memories of Multimouse soon surfaced in his mind and he realized just how doomed he was. After all, if Ladybug had chosen her, she had to be good.

Adrien swallowed heavily, but his mouth was dry. This was going to be a long, long day. And he no longer had any grasp on the situation whatsoever.

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

Where was the girl that stuttered in front of him every single day? Because she certainly wasn’t behind him in class that day. It couldn’t be, not by the way he could constantly feel her eyes on his back, and how she kept passing him notes. Adrien hadn’t had a moment to pull himself together since their little talk in front of the lockers.

Even during class, she found a way to keep him on the back foot, he reflected as another slip of paper found its way in front of him. The one before it had simply been a flirty cat pun, which he wasn’t sure was supposed to be an actual flirt or just teasing him. Taking a steadying breath, he opened up this one to see what it had to say.

Inside was a quick drawing of what had to be him - green eyes, blonde hair, his white jacket with the black shirt - with a speech bubble that just said, “meow meow meow meow meow.”

He quickly hide the drawing under his notebook, just in time since Ms Bustier turned back around at just that moment to address the class. If she saw, would she confiscate them? Or, even worse, would she make them read them out loud in class? Besides being embarrassing to have to say ‘meow’ five times outloud, would they give his classmates the edge they needed to discover his secret identity? Who else but a catboy would be able to say meow so effectively?

Ms Bustier turned back toward the white board and his momentary reprieve ended. Another note - this one folded into an American football - landed at his elbow. Ignoring the questioning look Nino was sending his way, Adrien opened it.

This one was just a drawing of a cat… a cat that unmistakably had his hair.

Adrien quickly shoved it into his pocket but no sooner had he managed that than another one landed right in front of him. Keeping an eye on Ms Bustier all the while, he felt it open with his hands and glanced down once he thought he’d gotten it.

Another drawing of him. This time with the words ‘pretty kitty’ and an arrow pointing at him.

That one got him to turn around, just enough to look at her. She looked back down at him, shameless, and even had the audacity to wave her fingers at him.

“Adrien, eyes up front please!”

He snapped back to attention at Ms Bustier’s gentle but firm command. There was a slight murmuring in the classroom, but it passed just as quickly as it began. After a couple minutes,  another note landed in front of Adrien.

Unheard by anyone else, Adrien let out a long, frazzled sigh.

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

Adrien collapsed onto his bed, finally home from a long day. Gym class and an hour of fencing didn’t do nearly half as much as just having Marinette behind him, flirting with him surreptitiously for the entire time they had classes together. And it was unquestionably flirting - eventually even he had no choice but to admit that she was hitting on him.

But why? He had to wonder. Was it because of her feelings for Chat Noir? Had something happened to awaken this in her from their time on her island last night?

Shaking his head, he decided he’d have to ask her tomorrow…

...Only for his phone to go off.

Naturally, it was Marinette, a fact he noted with wide eyes and quickening pulse.

Marinette: Open your island?

Adrien stared at that message for long minutes before it finally dawned on him that she was talking about his Animal Crossing island. After everything that had happened today, he had almost completely forgotten how his identity had been compromised.

His internal debate on whether or not to actually do what she asked was short. In a matter of minutes, he had his switch in his hands and was opening up his airport. His only response was to send her the access code.

He ran in circles as he patiently waited for her to arrive. The plane loading screen came up and he frowned at her passport title. “Rascally Bug Fan”? He could have sworn that wasn’t what it had been a few days ago…

Then she landed and the cutscene played, showing her character walking out of the airport gates. But she wasn't in the clothes that she had been wearing when he visited her island yesterday. No, she was wearing a red, black spotted suit, a superhero mask, and with a rose in her hair.

Everything clicked and he let out an involuntary gasp that turned into an undignified, startled squawk as his fingers slackened and his switch fell onto his face. He quickly rolled to a sitting position and watched Marinette - or, should he say Ladybug? - walk up to where he was standing.

He used the anger react and she responded with a laugh. Remembering the day that she had put him through, he felt the corners of his mouth twitch up in a smile. He had his character use the love react, a pink heart floating above his head.

She smacked him with a net.

[elisaphoenix13]

Once Upon A Summer (Ch.2)

The very first jar of baby food that Tony had opened, he visibly gagged and glared at the vile concoction. He was seriously reconsidering feeding it to Peter but after asking FRIDAY about it, it was deemed safe to eat. Tony made a noise of disgust but went to fish Peter out of his new playpen, but that was when he discovered what he and Stephen had forgotten to buy at the store.

A highchair.

So Tony had to seat the baby on his knee and feed him that way, appalled when Peter seemed to enjoy what the man was feeding him. At least whatever made it into his mouth. It was supposed to be chicken and gravy but it just looked and smelled like a smoother version of wet cat food to him. Peter ate about half of it before Tony closed the revolting source of smell and gave him a bottle to fill up, and he took that chance to eat the sandwich he had thrown together. The baby's hands were full so Peter wouldn't be tempted to try and grab Tony's food, but the engineer still ate as quickly as he could. Even he knew babies had a short attention span. There was a chance that Peter would get bored with his bottle.

By some miracle, they both finished at the same time and Tony left the bottle and his plate on the table to clean up later. He was more concerned with cleaning up his kid and getting him into a clean diaper and some pajamas and then into bed. When Tony got up to his room, he grabbed everything he would need and laid the changing pad on his bed and then Peter on top of it, finally getting the Iron Spider suit off of him.

"How did Strange even know how to work this and get you into a diaper?" Tony mumbles to himself.

Peter helpfully made noises in response and rolled over onto his tummy to try and explore, but Tony turned him back over.

"You gotta work with me here kid. This is new territory for me." He grabs the teething ring sitting nearby and hands it to Peter. "Here. Keep yourself occupied with this for a few minutes."

Tony takes off the diaper next (sighing with relief to find it just wet) and moves it aside to deal with later. While he goes about grabbing a clean one to unfold, Peter makes a new noise that he was unfamiliar with. It wasn't alarming, it just sounded like relief. Like-

"Nonono!" Tony panics and tries to cover the baby with anything, but it was too late. A steady stream of urine hits Tony's shirt and he looks down at the baby when he giggles. "Some teenage part of you is still in there somewhere and I bet you're equally mortified and laughing your ass off." He finally says.

Peter answers with another coo around his teething ring and Tony quickly wipes him down and diapers him before grabbing a wipe to clean Peter's mouth free of chicken puree. After a quick glance at the toy, he found it free of food particles so he was able to finish by dressing him in some Iron Man footie pajamas. Tony had no idea they were even making baby clothes with the Avengers on them but when he saw them, he had to get them. Besides, there weren't any Spiderman ones yet.

"Friday, gradually dim the lights would you?" Tony asks, finishing off with some gel on Peter's gums and then picking him up.

"Yes, Boss."

The lights went from their normal setting to a dim light, and over the next few minutes, it would get darker and darker until it was just light enough for Tony to see where he was going. He didn't even know how a baby should be put to bed so Stephen suggested that Tony make the room boring. As dark as possible and maybe some classical music playing very quietly if needed. For now he held Peter close and gently rubbed his back as he paced the room to help the baby get ready to go to sleep. Teen Peter must have had an exciting day because Baby Peter wasn't fighting bedtime. The tiny yawn Tony heard was enough to make anyone with a heart of ice soften...and so was the fact that Peter curled closer to him as he started to fall asleep.

Tony didn't dare make a sound. When he was safely able to stop rubbing Peter's back, he walked over to the crib and leaned over as far as he could. Then he slowly lowered the infant into the crib and moved away quietly when Peter made no sign of waking back up. He stayed long enough to change into some pajamas, throwing his soiled shirt into the hamper, and left the room to clean up.

"FRIDAY, place an order for an appropriate highchair would you? And a reliable car seat." Tony rubs the back of his neck. "I may as well do this right."

"Way ahead of you." The AI replies...rather cheekily.

Tony was tempted to go down to his lab after cleaning up, but like Peter, the shock and excitement of the day wore on him and he was actually willing to go to sleep. It was probably best since Stephen said Peter would be teething. Sleep was a requirement now. Tony had someone that relied on him and he couldn't take care of them running on an hour of sleep. So he went back up to his bedroom and quietly slipped inside and into bed. After he pulled his comforter up and settled into his mattress, he could hear the soft breaths coming from the crib just a few feet away. It was weird. He wasn't used to hearing someone else in his room anymore after he broke it off with Pepper a few years ago...but it was soothing. Tony knew where Peter was and that he was safe and in reaching distance.

The poor kid had gone through so much that Tony personally vowed to do everything he could to keep Peter from further harm and pain. He tried not to get close, but Peter had this quality about him that made him so likeable and before Tony knew it, he started to see Peter like his own.

And it terrified him. He wasn't father material but he kept acting like one. He found ways to keep Peter safe, took him in when he had no one else, and made sure he had everything he needed. The thought of his kid getting hurt made his chest tight.

"Good night kid." Tony mumbles to the sleeping infant.

========

The teething gel didn't last all night. Peter woke up fussing, jolting Tony out of sleep and partially confused. When reality came rushing back, he got up, checked the baby's diaper and then tried some more gel when he found the diaper clean. It worked like a charm in seconds and Peter settled back down enough for Tony to return him to the crib and go back to sleep. The process repeated a couple more times throughout the night, and when a decent hour of the morning came around, Tony was still asleep. Well...mostly asleep. After Peter woke up the first time, Tony was in tune with when the baby woke up so he never got all the way asleep. So he was partially aware when Peter woke up and sat up in his crib. To his relief, the baby was content to babble quietly and Tony took the chance to get a few more minutes of sleep.

He almost didn't hear his door open. It was slow and quiet like whoever it was knew that they needed to be, but he wasn't worried. Whoever it was, FRIDAY didn't deem them a threat. Tony eventually found out though when he watched a shadow move silently over to the crib and Peter stand up with the aid of the bars. The infant babbles a little louder in excitement and the shadow shushes him.

"Let's let Tony sleep a little longer Spiderling."

It was Stephen. Of course it was. He was the only one that knew about Peter's predicament right now, and of course he would just waltz right into Tony's bedroom. Even though he all but demanded the sorcerer's help, he at least has the decency to be quiet about it. Soon enough, Stephen left with Peter as quietly as he came and Tony finally got another half an hour of uninterrupted sleep before he decided to get up. He wasn't really going to, but he smelt coffee and that was enough to lure him out of bed and get him to shuffle downstairs to the kitchen. He had tunnel vision until he got to the coffee maker and poured himself a full mug after fumbling for one and only after drinking half of it, did he finally look around for Stephen and Peter.

He didn't have to look far. He first saw Peter in the playpen drinking a bottle, and then he saw Stephen sitting nearby on the couch reading a book. A normal one from what Tony could see at his angle. There was some jazz playing softly from the speakers as well instead of having the tv on, and Peter looked content.

"I'll have to leave the solid food for you to feed to him." Stephen says. "I can't imagine that any will get into his mouth when my hands shake." He looks up at Tony as the older man walks over and slumps onto the couch next to him.

"I'm surprised you're here so early to be honest. I expected you to make sure he wasn't dead and then go back home." He admits.

Stephen shrugs. "I had nothing much better to do today."

"You even made me coffee."

"Your...robot voice...told me you had a rough night."

"AI. And her name is FRIDAY." Tony corrects.

He was mildly offended but Stephen simply nodded and corrected himself so Tony calmed down. The sorcerer probably didn't know what to call her so Tony couldn't fault him for it. He still didn't have the energy to get angry about it anyway.

"The teething gel only helped for about a couple of hours before he woke up again," Tony explains. "It was never his diaper and I checked."

"Well I put a teething ring in the freezer for later. He's probably ready for some fruit or something now though."

"Oh yeah." Tony gulps down the rest of his coffee and gets back up. "FRIDAY, did my order come yet?"

"Yes, Boss. The packages are waiting for you in the usual spot." She replies.

"Great." He turns to look back at Stephen. "Could you watch him for a little longer? That way I can go grab the highchair and come set it up."

"Sure."

Tony walks into the kitchen to leave his mug by the coffee maker for a later refill and then takes the elevator down to the shipping area. He didn't even bother changing since no one would be up at this hour...at least no one that cared if he decided to strut around the tower looking disheveled in his pajamas. Tony couldn't really bring himself to care much either. It was a quick trip anyway. He found his two packages, strong-armed them back to the elevator and nudged the box with the car seat out and aside once he reached the penthouse again. The highchair was promptly opened and wrestled out of its box with a few grunts and curses and in just a few minutes, it was standing ready to receive a baby by the kitchen table. There wasn't much assembly to it except the tray and the padding for the seat anyway.

"Never thought I would see any of this here." Tony puffs out.

Stephen closes his book and gets up to take Peter out of the playpen who had already gotten up with the help of the playpen. "I never thought I would be in this situation either. It's one thing to give a baby a check-up--"

"It's a whole 'nother trying to actually raise them." Tony finishes and Stephen nods as he takes Peter over to the high chair and places him in it. "Oh by the way Doc, that chicken stuff is atrocious. Pretty sure it was toxic waste."

"I think the fruit will be better on your nose." Stephen laughs. "You may even want to try it yourself."

Tony doubted it, but when he got a jar of apples and blueberries off the counter and popped it open, he took the risk of smelling it...and was pleasantly surprised. He actually did want to give it a try so he stuck the tip of his pinky in it, and then stuck it in his mouth and stared into the jar.

"Wow. That's actually pretty good." Peter cries at him in protest when he watches the man eat some of his food and Tony rolls his eyes as he grabs a baby spoon. "What? Not fast enough for you kid?"

Stephen sighs. "Tony, just feed him." He says with exasperation and walks over to the fridge. "I'm impressed."

"What?" Tony asks as he feeds Peter a small spoonful of purple goop.

"Your fridge is stocked."

"The amount of sass coming out of your mouth is just as impressive," Tony quips.

"Do you want an omelette or not?"

"He cooks too!" Tony cackles and feeds Peter some more. "Did you really just come here to raid my fridge?"

"Oh no, you caught me." Stephen says sarcastically.

Tony smirks but turns his attention back to feeding Peter who was eating the fruit puree faster than he had eaten the chicken the night before. He eventually had to stop though since Stephen had said not to feed him the entire jar. His stomach was still getting used to the different foods.

"Sorry kiddo. Gotta cut you off." There was another babble of protest but Peter was happy to take the frozen teething ring Stephen had taken out of the freezer and offered to him.

"So...what do you want in your omelette?" Stephen asks.

"Anchovies."

"...you're kidding right?"

"Of course I am. I don't even have those around."

"Your level of sarcasm is so refined that I almost couldn't tell." Stephen rolls his eyes.

"Touché."

[ri-ahhh]

Okay but hear me out: Grayson begging to come with you to take care of your baby siblings (like 2 and 4 years old) and he’s ON IT but then they get really out of hand and he’s like “I can see why birth control is a thing”

Listen I worked in a daycare for four years and I’m a firm believer that anyone wanting to have a kid needs to work that job for a week. Or like, forget the stupid baby dolls you take care of in high school, let a 15 yr old take care of 5 babies or 10 2 yr olds by themselves and see if they’ll have unprotected sex lol

You’re walking around your apartment, straightening up the place and removing anything potentially breakable or that might be a choking hazard in preparation for the day you promised to babysit your niece and nephew, when your phone buzzes in the back pocket of your jeans.

“Hello?” you answer, unplugging a stray phone charger from the wall socket by the couch and replacing it with one of the childproof plastic covers.

“Hey,” came Grayson’s voice on the other end of the line. “What time do you think you’ll head over?”

You pause in the middle of the room, confused momentarily, then smack your palm to your forehead. You had totally forgotten the plans you had made with your boyfriend to have a pool day at his house. 

“Shit. I’m sorry, Gray. I totally forgot, I told my brother like three weeks ago that I’d watch his kids for the day while he and his wife go house hunting.”

“Oh, damn,” he says, disappointed. His voice perks up when he speaks again, however. “I love kids, though! What if I came over and helped you out?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You want to spend your Saturday wrangling two toddlers? They’re little hellions, babe, to put it nicely.”

You can hear his grin through the phone. “Yeah. I wanna see you be an auntie.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, you relent. You’d be lying if you tried to say that you aren’t thinking about him being in dad mode for the day now, too. “Alright, but you don’t get to bail when shit hits the fan. Let me check that it’s cool with my brother.”

An hour later, you’ve got your just-turned-two niece Cami and her four year-old brother Cash sitting on your couch, entranced by Aquanauts playing on the TV, when Grayson knocks at the door. The kids’ heads jerk up, and your nephew looks at you questioningly, always excited for the opportunity to be a big boy and answer the door. You smile and nod, giving him permission to scramble off the couch with you following close behind.

You help him heave the door open, and he looks up at Grayson standing there, friendly smile fixed on his face when he sees your nephew. 

“Hey, little man! Can I come in?”

Cash nods with an excited smile of his own. You had already told him that your friend Grayson would be coming over to play with them. Outgoing and extroverted and a genuine people-person to no end, he had been as jittery and excited as if you had given him a spoonful of sugar ever since.

Grayson steps past the threshold of your apartment, and holds his fist out for Cash to bump. “I’m Grayson.”

You feel two little hands tug on your shirt, and you look down to see Cami reaching up to be held, curious about this new person but also cautious. You sweep her up and settle her on your hip, then nod at your nephew. “Gray, this is Cash. Tell him how old you are, bud.”

“Four!” he shouts, counting out the correct number of fingers before holding them up to Grayson. “I had a Spider-Man party! Do you like Spider-Man?”

“Dude, I love Spider-Man,” Grayson says exaggeratedly, giving Cash an enthusiastic high-five. He looks at Cami, who’s got her head resting on your shoulder as she watches this stranger interact with her brother. “And who’s this?”

“You gonna tell Grayson your name?” you ask Cami, knowing it’ll be hit or miss if she does or not. Much more of an introvert and also used to having an older silbling do everything for her, she isn’t quite as quick to warm up to people as her rambunctious brother. Sure enough, today is a no-go, but she still observes Grayson with big eyes and a fascinated little smile. 

Before you can answer your boyfriend, Cash speaks for her in that typical older-sibling fashion. “Her name is Campbell, but we call her Cami. Or Cam.”

“No way! My sister’s name is Cam, too!”

That’s all the small talk and mutual ground Cash needs to grab Grayson by the wrist and drag him into your living room to play with the pile of toys on the rug. He flashes you a grin as he passes, clearly impressed with himself that he’s already made such good friends with Cash.

You grin and roll your eyes, but follow them and sit with your back resting against the couch and Cami planted in your lap.

Admittedly, Grayson is a natural as he makes all the appropriate dinosaur and car crash noises and gladly accepts the Batman action figure instead of Spider-Man. He even coaxes Cami to take one of the animal figures, meeting her smile with a bright one of his own, glad to be making some headway now with the precious little girl in your arms.

Until Cash catches sight of the little plastic tiger now in Cami’s hands, and decides to ruin the moment completely.

“That’s mine, Cam!” he shouts, dropping Spider-Man and snatching the toy from her.

You know it’s coming, but Grayson is completely unprepared for the shrieking scream that Cami lets out as she clambers off your lap to take back the toy. Gray winces and looks at you in shock, but you’re just immediately going into ‘stop the fight’ mode.

“Cash, you weren’t even playing with that,” you reprimand, holding out your hand for him to reluctantly drop the toy into. You sit Cami on the rug next to him and make her look you in the eye. “Cami, use your words next time. What do you say when you want something?”

Her eyes light up when she sees the toy in your hand that she knows is about to belong to her once again. “P’ease!” she says, swiping her hand across her chest as well, leftover baby sign language engrained in her little brain.

You hand her the toy and make her say ‘thank you’ as well, then catch Grayson watching you in awe. “You handled that well,” he says.

You blush a little and shrug, crawling across the carpet now that the kids are happy and occupied so you can plant a soft kiss to his lips. “Hi,” you murmur, grinning against his mouth.

He chuckles and kisses you again, equally as chaste. “Hi.”

There are a couple more arguments that you have to stop, then they settle down for a bit while they eat a morning snack of banana slices and Cheerios. Cami definitely dumps her half-empty bowl on the floor to signify that she’s finished, and Cash accidentally spills his water everywhere after taking the lid off because ‘he’s not a baby.’ Grayson offers to clean it up while you take the kids to the bathroom to wipe Cami’s messy hands and face and to change Cash’s soaking wet clothes.

There’s a park nearby your apartment, so once everything is tidy again, the two of you round up the excited little balls of energy and head out the door. Both kids have easily become infatuated with Grayson, and as the four of you walk the sidewalk on your way to the park, he carries Cami on his hip while holding tightly on to Cash’s hand to stop him from chasing bugs into traffic. It’s an adorable image, to say the least, and makes your chest swell warmly.

You like watching him run around with Cash equally as much while you push Cami on the baby swings. Grayson is learning first-hand that even someone as in-shape as himself is no match for the energy of an excited four year-old. He chases Cash around the playground, flies him around like an airplane, and plays a game of tag before finally convincing him to come to the swings as well.

You laugh when he makes his way over, panting heavily. “Having fun?” you ask amusedly.

Grayson doesn’t answer, just takes his place behind the swing Cash chooses and catches his breath for a moment as he starts to push him.

“Just trying to figure out how my dad did this with me and E.”

Lunch and nap come next, which goes a little smoother than snack had. Grayson plays with them on the floor again while you cook, and you let him put out the squabbles himself until everything is ready. Cash only puts up a small fight when you lay them down in your bed. They’re both out in a matter of minutes, exhausted by the activities and excitement of their morning.

When you emerge back in the living room, you find Grayson slumped on the couch, staring at the TV that’s now playing Dora.

“Brushing up on your Spanish?” you ask, plopping down next to him and snuggling up to his side. “Or are you watching for the adventure?”

Grayson chuckles and wraps his arm around your shoulder so he can pull you closer to him, his voice gruff and tired. “You were right. Hellions, both of them. Cute, but insane.”

You tip your head up to kiss the underside of his jaw. “For what it’s worth, they loved you.”

“Really?” he asks, his voice lighting up with the smile you can’t see.

You nod against his chest, grinning as you think back on the day. “Absolutely. Cami never takes to strangers that fast, and you were able to keep up with Cash, which is a feat not many others can do.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Kinda makes me scared to have kids now. It’s only been like five hours and I’m already exhausted.”

“You’re meant to be a dad Gray,” you assure him quietly, lifting your head and offering him a gentle smile. “If I didn’t already know that before, everything I saw today definitely made me think so. And no good thing comes easy, right? I think being a little tired is worth having one of those of your own, don’t you?”

“For sure,” he nods, cupping your cheek and dipping down to kiss you softly.

You hum into his mouth, needy for him now that you’ve got him all to yourself, and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him down until you’ve got him sprawled our on top of you. You trace his lips with your tongue before slipping it between them, but at the first slide of it against his, Grayson pulls back.

“Is this okay, you know, with them...?” He nods down the hall to the closed door of your room.

You nod. “They’re heavy sleepers. We should probably keep it to over the clothes stuff just in case, though. And my brother will be here in an hour to get them, so we only have to wait until then.”

It’s enough to satisfy him, and Grayson ducks down again, ready to pick right back up, until he breaks away from your mouth once more.

“What?” you ask breathily, looking up at him with both confusion and frustration.

He reaches an arm behind you to grab the remote sitting on the arm of the couch. “I’m sorry, I just can’t make out while Dora is screaming at me to ‘vamonos.’”

[pettyprocrastination]

Rip Out Our Seams and Stitch Us Together

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Valerie Lord x Black!Fem!Reader

Chapter Five

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Profanity, mirror sex, choking, kind of face-fucking? a touch of voyeurism, oral-male receiving, penetrative sex, Mean Maxwell fuckin’ lmao, office sex, angry sex, how in God’s name did we get here I am horrible at writing smut so i just want to say i’m SORRY. 

Chapter Summary: You take the measurements for the richest family in D.C, Valerie is surprised by her how quickly her son has taken a shining to you and Maxwell has a late night at the office. 

Tag List: @captainsamwlsn @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @readsalot73 @cinewhore @this-cat-is-dea @holographic-carmen @honestlystop @favoriteff-allcelebs @teaofpeach

Chapters: 1/2/3/4/

“The Lords are coming by tomorrow.” Cassandra looked up from the book open at the register.

“But Mrs.Lord was just in yesterday.” She told you.

“Not just her this time.” You finished off the seam on the ground in front of you as you spoke. “All of them are coming in, her husband and son, the whole gang of rich folk will be here.”

Ever since Valerie stepped into your shop late at night four weeks ago, she made herself a common visitor. Oftentimes she’d waltz in, plop herself down onto a chair and begin to complain about Maxwell’s secretary with the horrid voice or one of her friends who was less of a friend and more of a pain in the ass. 

You didn’t know how becoming the friend of a heiress meant her throwing herself into your lap everyday to gossip about other rich people but hey, you weren’t complaining. She was pretty good company when the dust settled. 

Three days ago she had called your store, and told you she, Maxwell, and Alastair would be coming in to get measurements taken so you could get the mock-up of their outfits done with their approval to move on to the finished version. 

Before she could say anything else you had asked about her son. 

“What does he like?”

“What?”

“What’s he like?” You asked, as you spoke your hand picked up the needle once more and began to hem the dress in your lap. “You know, DuckTales, Transformers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I’ve got some stuff I always bring out when kids come into the shop but I don’t know how rich kids work. Do I just hand him money and call him sir?”

“Ha ha.” She droned. “You know if life as a seamstress doesn’t work out, you should pursue a career in comedy, you’d flourish.”

“Aw Val, I couldn’t!” You cooed. “You’d miss me too much.”

You heard her scoff on the other line. From across the store Cass looked at you like you’d sprouted a second head. 

“Nonetheless.” She said slowly. “Alastair isn’t into traditional children’s activities. He enjoys chess with his tutors, reading, and playing the cello.”

You fought the urge to ask if these were things he liked to do or things his parents wanted him to do. 

Maybe rich kids were just built differently.

“I’m just calling to tell you certain adjustments must be made for my son.” She explained, in a tone so formal you hadn’t heard it since you first met her. 

“Uh sure.” You sat up, concerned. “What do you need?”

 “Certain textures make him extremely uncomfortable for clothing, so be aware that the lining will have to be a soft, smoother material.”

You sat back, observing the swatches already laid out in the backroom. You could grab a few more of softer materials for him to feel and see which one he liked the most. You already assumed as such, since he’s a kid and you remembered how much you hated wearing your church dress because of how itchy it was. “ Anything else need to be done?”

“He can get overstimulated if places are too loud or crowded at times, but since your store hardly has any customers in it.” You could hear the smirk on her face over the phone and groaned. “I doubt that will be a problem.”

“It’s my pleasure to be of your assistance.” You snipped. A moment of silence passed between the pair of you. “But uh, seriously. Don’t worry about it. I’ve made clothes for kids and people with touch aversions before. No sweat.”

“Thank you.” She breathed out. “Really Stitches, I appreciate it.”

At her praise your lips curled into a soft smile. “It’s no problem Val. One question though.”

“Yes?”

 “Who the hell names their kid Alastair?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that Stitches, I’ll see you tomorrow.” A dial tone met your ears and you called out to Cassandra. 

“Do we have a chess board in the back?”

---

Valerie walked into her son’s room, clearing her throat so both him and his tutor looked up at her. 

“Alastair honey, can I talk to you for a moment?” The boy, only eight, nodded and closed his workbook before standing. The tutor however, shot a hand out to grab her son’s shoulder. 

“Mrs. Lord.” The tutor, a man graying at the temples who wore ties so bland she’d rather wear a nose, shot her a condescending smile. “I thought we agreed on not interrupting Alastair’s lessons. It’s bad for his focus.”

“Mr. Lanston.” She shot back in the same sickly sweet tone as she tapped a manicured nail against the wall. “Who’s house is this?”

The man swallowed. “Mr.Lor-”

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head side to side as if scolding a dog. “For a tutor you seem to be quite fond of giving out the wrong answers. So I will ask you again, whose house is this?”

The tutor shrunk back. “Yours.”

“Correct. And who is it that you work for?”

“You, Mrs.Lord.” He said meekly. 

“Correct again! Now since this is my house and it is my son you are teaching, I will speak to him if I please. And if you try and insult my son’s intellect by saying a simple chat with his mother will throw him off course, I will throw you out onto the street. Do you understand me?”

The man’s mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water. 

“I asked you a question Mr.Lanston.” Her hand tapped against the Cartier watch on her wrist expectantly. “I expect an answer back.”

“Of course Mrs.Lord.” He stammered out, before turning to her son who just barely came to his hip. “I’m so sorry Mr.Lord.”

“That’s okay.” He answered simply, before taking his mother's hand in his and walking out of the room. 

Alastair Lord was eight years old, had his mother’s bright blue eyes and his father’s dark brown hair (Maxwell visited a hairstylist regularly but would never admit it). He had already skipped a grade but his parents insisted on keeping track of his studies, even during the summer. Maxwell did it in an attempt to feel less guilty about being stuck at work all day instead of  being with his son, Valerie did it so nobody would ever get the chance to use her son’s intellect as a weapon against his own standing. 

The Lords didn’t agree on much. But one thing they did agree on was that they loved their son more than anything in the world. 

“Do you still want to go to the gala with us in September?” She asked him. Her son’s eyes flicked out to the large glass window that proudly displayed their immaculate lawn, a bird flew along the clear pane before flying up and out of sight. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll go.” He said simply. He squeezed his mother’s hand in his with a small smile. “I like going to those fancy parties, you always wear pretty dresses.” He frowned, looking down at the floor for a moment. “I don’t like it when those old ladies try to touch my hair and kiss my cheek though.”

Alastair hated physical affection from those he didn’t know. The last business party of Maxwell’s he went to, a man’s wife tried to give him what she thought was a friendly kiss on the cheek because he was “such a darling little boy!”. Alastair ripped himself away from her in a panic, to which she then got offended and insisted to speak with his mother about his “awful manners.”

When Maxwell came to find his son clinging to his mother’s leg with tears in his eyes, he promptly had the couple thrown out and cut off business ties with the woman’s husband on account of her awful manners. 

From then on Alastair’s parents made sure he knew that if he was uncomfortable with a situation, he was to tell them and they would put an end to it immediately. 

“Your father and I are going to go see a seamstress to get measurements done for the gala. Would you come with us so we can get a suit made for you as well?”

Alastair looked up at his mother, blue eyes shining and ultimately passive at her question. 

“Sure.”

------

It was late at night when he came into his son’s room. Alastair was already in bed, nuzzled under his sheets and head resting against his pillow. Maxwell gently rapped his knuckles against the door before entering, his son’s eyes blinked open. It was always a shock how much they looked like Valerie's. 

“How’s the tutoring going?” Maxwell already knew the answer, Alastair excelled in every subject, but he simply wanted to hear his son speak to him. 

“Good.” His son replied. “Mr.Lanston said if I keep studying hard I might be able to skip another grade.”

Maxwell sat on the edge of his bed. “Would you like to skip another grade?”

Alastair was already a grade ahead, his teachers would message his parents about how well behaved and smart he was. But Alastair hardly ever spoke about his own experiences at school, about his friends or anything other than his classes.

“I don’t know.” the boy shifted for a moment, furrowing his brows in frustration and it was moments like this that he truly did look like his mother. “Mr.Lanston says it’s good for me to stay ahead of other but-” He looked off into the window of his room, a small sliver of moonlight peeking through the blue curtains. “Fifth grade sounds kind of fun, I heard the history teacher is really interesting and takes us on fun field trips.”

Part of Maxwell, the part still drilled into his head by his mother, nagged that he was sending the boy to that school to learn not go on ridiculous field trips. The other part of him, the part that shone when Alastair called him dad, felt guilt when he saw how apprehensive his son was in telling him how he felt.

Maxwell smiled, reached out to ruffle his son’s hair that was damn near a carbon copy of his own (before he got it dyed of course). “Then you’ll stay right where you are champ.”

“Thanks dad.”

The older lord frowned, before sternly pointing a finger at his son. “That’s Mr.Dad to you, young man.”

His son promptly groaned and threw his blanket over his face. “That joke still isn’t funny!” Even at his disgust, Maxwell could hear his son’s muffled giggles through the blanket and smiled.

“Humor is subjective, son.” Maxwell stood up from the bed, knees popping loudly as he did. Jesus, he was getting old. “Goodnight Alastair.”

Maxwell was already out of his son’s room and halfway down the hall when a tiny voice peeped out. 

“Goodnight dad.”

-----

“So what exactly does his son like?” Cassandra stood at the register, head laying in the palm of her hand as she leaned against the counter. The back room had been set full with different fabrics for them to see and either confirm or reject. Which in the classic Lord fashion meant they will either toss it at you with a stiff “this will do” or tell you it’s the ugliest thing in the world. 

You sighed. “Apparently he likes to read, play chess and the cello.” You looked toward the old checkers board set out and shrugged. “That was the closest thing I had so lets hope he isn’t as stuck up as his father or dramatic as his mother.”

“Speaaaaking of which.” Cassandra looked up with an excited grin. “You and Mrs.Lord are like, best friends now right?”

You thought about all the times she paraded into your store before throwing herself into the nearest chair (or your lap) before complaining about her day like a soap opera star. 

“Well I wouldn’t say best friends, but we’ve certainly gotten closer.”

“What’s she like? Has she taken you shopping? Have you seen her house? Is she as mean as everybody says she is?”

You pulled back for a moment, thinking. “She’s nice for a rich lady, no we haven’t gone shopping and I don’t think we ever will, I haven’t seen her house which once again I don’t think will ever happen, and honestly she insults me a lot but I think it’s her way of showing affection at this point.”

Cassandra giggled. “Like a cat?”

You thought about a cat- a fickle creature that will hiss and scratch in one second, and then demand all of your attention right after. 

“You know what? That’s actually a pretty spot on comparison.”

The jingle of a bell met your ears before a stern voice sounded out. 

“My god do you people not know what a broom is?”

You turned around, watching Maxwell enter your store with a crinkled nose. 

“I know what a broom is well enough rich boy, why don’t I go get one so I can shove it up your-”

Cassandra cleared her throat loudly before motioning to the tiny child at Maxwell’s side. 

“Oh, uh-” You realized the boy must've just seen you threaten his father. “Hey little dude. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you.” The boy responded. Alastair’s voice was just as tiny as he was. He had his mother’s eyes and father’s nose, but his hair was so dark it made you wonder which one of his parents bleached their hair. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, mam.”

Prim posture, perfect manners, not a single hair out of place. He struck you less as a kid and more as a robot but you bit your tongue before smiling back. 

“No need for fancy titles with me, little lord. You can call me Stitches.”

Alastair wrinkled his nose, a gesture that made him look so much like his father you wanted to laugh. “That’s a weird name.”

Valerie tutted at her son, blue eyes cast down in disappointment. “Alastair! Don’t be rude.”

“He isn’t wrong.” Maxwell waved off his wife’s scolding of their son. “Besides, I believe we came here to get actual work done on whatever horrid outfits you're making for the gala?”

“Of course.” You turned on your heel, leading them to the backroom where multiple mirrors lined the wall. “I’d hate to take up too much of your time. You’re a busy man after all, I’m sure you’d rather be off making your secretary cry or something equally as important.”

Maxwell rolled his eyes and shucked off his jacket, ignoring the twinge of annoyance he felt at even the mention of his secretary, someone you didn’t even know grated him so horribly. 

“Well we can’t all run rotten, hole-in-the-wall shops like this that just beg to be robbed.” He turned a sly eye to you with his nose tilted up. “Some of us have standards after all.”

You smiled. “I suppose you're right about that one Mr.Lord, I doubt my skills will live up to your expectations.” You wrapped the measuring tape around his bicep, using it to tug him so close his powerful facade melted into one of shock. 

“And yet-” Your voice curled in his ear like a tempting call, your eyes so focused on taking note of the measurement of his arm Maxwell hoped you didn’t hear his breath catch. 

“-here you are.”

Valerie looked up from the fabric swatches in her hand to notice the way Maxwell stared at you while you were blissfully unaware. It was hungry, surprised and oh so desperate. The same way she looked at you. 

All while you busied yourself with his measurements, unaware of the inner workings between the billionaire and his wife. 

Valerie was pulled from her head when her son handed her a swatch of fabric, a royal blue in color and soft knit against her skin. 

“This one is nice.”

She smiled at her son. Out of the corner of her eye she saw you wrap the tape measure around her husband’s chest. She reached down to playfully tug on the collar of his shirt, also a deep royal blue. 

“You’ll look lovely in it sweetheart.”

The conversation between you and his father was not nearly as loving.

“Do you have to play such obnoxious music?”

You didn’t bother to look up at Maxwell when he snipped back, you simply focused on the tape in your hands and the measurement of his chest which only made him even angrier. 

Obnoxious, what a perfect word to describe you. 

The shirts, the tattoos, everything about you was just so...loud. 

His eyes flicked forward when he felt your fingers ghost over his chest. Mirrors lined each wall, most likely so your customers could see what the clothes looked like on them from each angle. But as you leaned down to measure his inseam, his thoughts went other places. 

Places they definitely shouldn’t have with his wife and son in the same room. 

“Do you have to wear such disgusting cologne?”

Maybe it was your attitude, such defiance nobody openly showed him in fear of losing their job, or the fact that you were so different than the tucked in, prim-and-proper future trophy wives he fucked, or maybe it was simply the fact that your ass looked phenomenal in those jeans, but Maxwell couldn’t help but imagine fucking you in front of those mirrors. 

He wondered if you’d be loud, head thrown back and calling out his name as he fucked into you without mercy, without care. Maybe you’d be shy, you were so stubborn after all. Perhaps you’d bite your lip, trying to keep your noises stifled so you didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how good he made you feel. Maxwell wouldn’t allow that of course, he’d never admit it but he liked having his ego stroked almost as much as his cock. He wouldn’t hesitate to grab your jaw, forcing you to look forward at yourself in the mirrors. 

‘We’re the only ones here.’ His breath fanning out over your neck would make you shudder as you stared at your reflection just as he did. Seeing the way your tits bounced with each thrust and the ways your legs trembled and shook like those of a newborn. His pride swelled at the notion that if his arm wasn’t wrapped tight around your waist and gripping you close, you would’ve fallen to the floor by now. 

‘Let me hear you.’ He grunted into your neck as your whimpers got louder until you were all but shouting his name. ‘Good girl.’

“It’s revolting really.”

The sinful painting in his mind was torn to shreds when your haughty voice cut through it like a hot blade. 

He blinked owlishly, you stood in front of him, tape measure no longer against him but thrown over your shoulder while you crossed your arms. 

“What?”

“Your cologne.” You explained with a smirk. “It’s like trying to take measurements in a chemical factory. A little goes a long way Maxwell.” You gave him a sarcastic pat on the shoulder, one he was too distracted to push off because the way his name rolled off your lips. 

You had never said his name before. 

As quick as the interaction was, you turned to Valerie and Alastair, both sitting at the table behind you. You smiled and held a welcoming hand out. 

“You ready little man?” 

Alastair looked at his mother, who nodded her head and he slid off his chair to hop onto the pedestal his father previously stood on top of. His father took a seat next to his wife who said nothing. 

They both watched their son raise his arms as you held up the tape measure to him with a smile, you were saying something to him, most likely about school or his summer break. Valerie appreciated when you asked her about his interests to make a connection, but knew that was less than likely. Alastair wasn’t one to make connections, something she wondered if he got from his father by instinct or something that was drilled into him by his grandmother. 

Before she had been banned from coming to their house. 

“I’ll be working late tonight.” Maxwell told his wife. He knew she didn’t really care, their marriage was ten years of working late nights. Telling her at this point was just a courtesy. 

“Will your secretary be working as well?”

Maxwell noted the sly dig toward Delilah, but didn’t care enough about the woman to defend her. 

“If she wasn’t I wouldn't have hired her.”

Valerie ignored her husband in favor of the scene in front of her. She watched as you held the tape to her son’s leg, nodding your head as he spoke at length while you took his measurements. To say his mother was surprised would be an understatement, he hardly talked to his parents. Let alone people he’s only just met. 

Maybe something about you just brought out that side of the Lords.

“Alrighty, you're all good Alastair.” The youngest Lord hopped off the little step and you looked toward his mother with a jut of your chin. “You're up, Val.”

Maxwell looked toward his wife with a raised brow, mouthing her nickname in confusion. She was too busy taking your hand as you stepped onto the pedestal to notice. 

“So-” You wrapped the tape measure around her waist, mindful not to let your hands linger. “-how the hell did you two make such a sweet kid like Alastair?”

Valerie smiled at your reflection and ignored the way her heart jumped when you pulled the measuring tape just beneath the swell of her chest. “I’m not sure if that was an insult on my parenting or my personality.”

“Oh definitely an insult on your personality, without a doubt.” You responded seriously, but the tilt of your lips lent it to a gentle tease. “You must be doing something right because that kid is better behaved than you and your husband.” You looked up for a moment and she held her breath. 

“Or should I be giving this praise to some poor underpaid nanny you torture?”

Valerie scoffed. “Oh please, Miriam is hardly underpaid and she doesn’t do a damn thing right. I don’t know why we keep her around these days.”

You snorted. “Miriam?” The tape measure pressed to the side of her hip as you measured down her leg. “God, you people really tic every box off the one percent checklist, don’t you?”

Valerie hummed, painted lips curls into a smile. “We try our best dear.”

You stood up straight, hands moving behind her to wrap the tape around her chest with an awkward cough. Even as you willed all your focus on the numbers of her measurement you couldn't help but feel your face grow hot. 

“How unlady-like.” She murmured, you didn’t look up to meet her gaze but the smug tone in her voice gave it away. “At least buy me dinner, Stitches.”

You chuckled and spared a glance up. 

What a fucking mistake that was. 

Blue eyes stared you down like you have been presented on a silver platter and the richest woman in D.C. wanted nothing more than to devour you right where you stood.

“Something tells me I wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

“I’m sure I can make an exception.”

You realized Valerie was alot like the sun, you couldn’t look at her for too long without needing to look away. 

You stepped back to write her measurements down and put your hands together. 

“I think you folks are good to go.”

You just hoped you wouldn’t end up burned. 

Maxwell stood up and scoffed. “About damn time, some of us have real work to do instead of twiddling our thumbs and sewing little dresses.” As he walked by, his eyes flicked over yours in a poisonous glare and his shoulder knocked against yours with his son following behind him like a little carbon copy.

You looked toward his wife, who looked just as surprised by the worsening of her husband’s mood. 

“You’re one lucky woman Mrs.Lord.”

“Believe me I know.” She leaned forward to whisper with a wink. “But I know a few things that’ll brighten him up no problem.”

You scrunched up your face and pushed out every image that surged into your mind at her implication. “Okay gross, didn’t need to know that but thank you.”

“Always my pleasure Stitches.”

The door shut behind Valerie as she walked out to their car, throwing one last wink over her shoulder before sliding into the backseat next to her son while her husband slammed the passenger seat door behind them. 

“Well-” Cassandra looked over at you with a surprised expression. She must've noticed the fact that Maxwell had seemed to be pissier than usual, you did as well but assumed it was because of some deal that went sour at work or some type of rich people shit you couldn’t even fathom. “-his son seemed nice.”

“Yeah.” Their car turned a corner and disappeared from your line of sight. “They aren’t exactly the fucking Brady Bunch though.”

------

“Daniels-” Maxwell adjusted his collar in the rear-view mirror as he spoke. “-swing by the office. I need to go over some papers for a meeting I have tomorrow. Then take Valerie and Alastair home.”

“Of course sir.”

The driver turned left. 

“Mom?”

Valerie looked to the boy at her side. “Yes sweetheart?”

“Can I come with you the next time you see the seamstress?” Valerie looked toward the passengers seat, where her husband sat just as shocked as her. 

“You want to go see Stitches?” Maxwell asked. “Again?”

His son nodded, too young to realize how surprised his parents were by his answer. 

“She’s funny and nice and she doesn’t talk down to me like other people do.” Alastair looked up at his mother, nervous at her lack of response. “Is that okay?”

That seemed to snap Valerie into action. She smiled and took her son’s hand in her with a loving pat. “Of course sweetheart, Stitches would love to have you around.”

The car came to a halt in front of the Chimtech Consortium building, which stood tall, even against the grit and grime of the busy city streets

Maxwell stepped out of the car before ducking his head into the window. “I’ll be home late tonight champ, alright?”

Alastair held no disappointment nor resentment to his father for the time he spent at work but it didn’t make Maxwell feel like any less of a shit father. 

“Okay dad.”

Valerie leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, leaving a red lipstick stain in her wake. “I’ll see you tonight darling.”

Maxwell smiled. “Don’t stay up too late waiting for me dear.” He took a step back, watching the car drive out of the sight of his building before he frowned and wiped the lipstick off his cheek, which in turn left a red mark on his jacket sleeve. 

“Damn that woman.”

The moment he entered the lobby, people seemed to pause before greeting him, none of which he gave a response to. It wasn’t until the elevator door shut that he took a deep breath. 

Breathe Maxwell, you’ll run yourself ragged this way. 

A tiny titter behind him made him realize he wasn’t alone in the elevator. Out of the corner of his eye he could see brown leather shoes that he’d wouldn’t be caught dead in. 

“What’s your name son?”

The boy gaped for a moment before he found his voice. “Michael, sir.”

The door opened with a soft Ding! And Maxwell stepped out before turning to face the young man. 

Wiry frame, tall, yet hunched over out of pure insecurity and refusing to meet Maxwell’s eye. 

He was definitely an intern. 

“Well then Mikey-” Maxwell noticed the way his head snapped up as he spoke. “Get me a coffee and bring it to my office, just the way I like it.”

The intern squeaked out a quick “of course sir!” before the doors shut on him. 

Maxwell wondered how long it would take for ‘Mikey’ to realize he never told him how he liked his coffee or where his office actually was. 

He turned sharply around a corner, taking note in the sea of cubicles he passed, every employee pausing to whisper and watch him march past without speaking. The sound of marketing calls dissipated as he grew farther away from the flurry of lower rank workers. Huddled cubicles were replaced with sleek halls and grand windows showcasing the city view. When his eyes landed on the dark brown door at the end of the hall he nearly wept. 

Sweet sanctuary. 

 His hand had just curled around the silver door knob, the final obstacle between him and sweet sweet isolation when a shrill voice broke out. 

“Oh!” Delilah squeaked, jumping up from her chair with surprise. “Mr.Lord, you're here!”

She definitely should’ve noticed that he had gotten here earlier, given that she was his fucking secretary. 

“That I am Delilah.” Maxwell answered gruffly, eyes flicking over to the stack of papers on her desk that she would no doubt forget to file. “I do run this company after all.”  Before she could respond with some ass-kissing compliment, he walked into his office and shut the door behind him. 

Maxwell rolled his shoulders back, undoing the blue tie around his neck as he sank into his office chair with a groan. He spent more time in that chair than his own bed at this point. 

Truth be told there wasn’t much that needed to be done at work today that couldn’t be done tomorrow.  He had no meetings for another three days and he’d worked himself ragged the past few days to play catch up, now he was more than ahead of the game. He simply needed to be alone, to clear his head a bit.

But try as he may, he couldn’t calm the rambling stream of his consciousness no matter how hard he fought. When he opened his eyes again and spared a glance at the clock on his desk, he realized thirty minutes had passed since he first sat down. 

Maxwell groaned, threading his fingers in his hair and pulling in frustration. 

Why can’t you get the fuck out of his head?

That bratty attitude combined with your god awful sense of style should've made you repugnant, somebody he couldn’t stand the sight of and didn’t see as anything worth the metaphorical shit under his eight hundred dollar shoes. Yet here he sat, hunched over in his office plagued with your voice saying his name like a challenge over and over in his head like some sick chant. 

Maxwell ran a hand through his hair, setting each strand into place before he pressed the button on his desk and spoke with authority. 

“Delilah, could you meet me in my office?”

Only a few seconds later, she came scurrying into his office with poorly hidden excitement. 

“Yes sir?” That was one thing he hated about her. 

The fucking voice. 

It wasn’t her voice on it’s own, but it was the way she made her voice sound. She made sure to always talk softly, forcing herself up to a higher octave to sound sweet and submissive like a flute when she really sounded like somebody stepping on the tail of a cat. 

But her boss wasn’t interested in her voice to begin with. 

He pushed his chair out from under his desk by a fraction and unbuckled his belt. 

“Knees.”

She was quick to find her way between his legs with a sultry smile. 

“Did you miss me?”

Maxwell scoffed. “Hardly. Now do something useful with that mouth before I start looking at new hires to take your place.”

The smile disappeared and she looked down, uttering out a small “Yes Mr.Lord” before she took his cock into his mouth. Maxwell let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in, head falling back with a relaxed hum. His eyes shut as his mind, always his enemy, began to paint a picture he had been longing for all day. 

You sat on your knees between his legs, moaning while you ran your tongue along the underside of his cock. 

You seemed like the type to tease, he didn’t doubt that. But he enjoyed teasing just fine, as long as he was the one doing it. Maybe in the form of a toy nestled between your legs while he held a remote, turning it on and off with no pattern just to see you whine and buck your hips like a bitch in heat. 

His hand knotted itself in your hair and pushed you further down on his cock with a grunt. 

“That’s it.” You whined as your head bobbed up and down, tongue hot against his veins while the coil in his stomach wound tighter and tighter every time you moved. “You take it so well, just like that.”

A nervous knock sounded against his door. Maxwell’s eyes snapped open before they narrowed into angry slits. 

Christ, he just couldn’t catch a break today.

Delilah let out a muffled squeak and pushed herself off of Maxwell’s cock before his hand pressed down on the back of her head and bucked his hips against her open mouth.

“You make a noise or move an inch off of my dick-” His voice was even and ultimately unbothered as he spoke to her. “-and you're fucking fired.”

Delilah made a whimpered garble against him, he assumed it meant ‘Yes sir.’

“Come in.”

The door creaked open and in walked the same intern from the elevator, just this time with a Styrofoam cup in his trembling hand. 

Son of a bitch, the kid actually did it. 

“Well color me surprised Mikey, you came through.” 

The boy set the coffee on his desk, completely unaware of the woman crouched under the desk, deepthroating the seemingly unbothered man sitting before him. 

Maxwell took the coffee into his hand, taking a tentative sip before his face scrunched up. Just as he did, Delilah gagged loudly against him, causing Michael’s eyes to go wide as he looked around for the source of the sound. 

God he hated black coffee. 

“A touch too bitter for my taste, but gold star for effort kid.”  Maxwell's hand snaked under the table to push Delilah's head down another inch or two. Her nose was now nestled against the hem of his dress shirt, and he could feel her struggling to maintain the position by the way her throat flexed around his cock.

Good. Maybe that would shut her up.

“Next time try a dash of nutmeg.”

“Nutmeg?”

“Yes, nutmeg. It’s a nice wake-up in the morning. But for now that will be all.” Maxwell motioned to the door, to which the boy nodded and bowed his head like some servant. 

“Of course, have a good day sir.”

“You too kid. Make sure to shut the door behind you.”

The intern all but sprinted out, Maxwell felt his pride swell knowing even after he complimented the intern, he was still scared shitless of him. The moment his door clicked shut, he gripped his slobbering secretary’s hair by the root and wrenched her off his dick, leaving her to sputter and cough with tears in her eyes. 

“I suggest you make yourself useful, Miss Harris.” Maxwell slid his jacket off his shoulders and onto the chair behind him. He pulled a condom out of his pocket with a frown that never seemed to leave when she was in his presence.

 “That poor intern already knows where my office is and how I like my coffee, you might be out of a job soon enough.”

Delilah wiped the spit from her mouth and grinned. She stood on shaky legs in those horrendous kitten heels before pulling up her skirt and bending over his desk. 

“You could never fire me sir.” She groaned, gripping the desk like a lifeline when Maxwell entered her and began to thrust without giving her time to adjust to his size. “You’d miss me too much.”

Maxwell, still buried inside her, scoffed. “And what exactly would I miss Delilah? The cold coffee? The missed memos? Or you coming in late and thinking I don’t notice?” With each question he thrust in and out, in and out, a harsh unforgiving tempo that his secretary should be used to by now.

She arched her back with a squeaking moan. “No, you’d miss this pussy. Nobody fucks you like I do Sir.” The final string keeping Maxwell together, the one that everybody seemed to tug and pluck all day finally snapped when Delilah her next words. 

“Not even your bitch of a wife.”

Maxwell’s hips halted their assault against Delilah’s freckled skin, his eyes narrowed as he stared down at the back of her head, the pregnant pause filled the air that made Delilah realize right as the words passed her lips she had fucked up. 

She gasped when his hand wrapped tight around her throat and pulled her up off the desk and against his chest. 

“Talk about my wife again, go ahead.” Maxwell growled out, Delilah opened her mouth but no sound came out as his fingers squeezed tighter and tighter around her throat until her face went from pale white to bright red, the cold metal of his wedding band cut into the soft skin of her neck, the pain hopefully proving to be an effective teacher . “I fucking dare you, you even mention Valerie one more fucking time and you’ll wish you never pulled your lazy ass through that door to apply for this goddamn job. You understand me?”

When he loosened his grip she nodded rapidly, taking in a shuddering breath. She looked over her shoulder at him, legs trembling and a pout on her swollen lips. 

“I’m sorry.” She croaked out, voice hoarse from his dick and only made worse by his temper. His hand slid up her back before pushing her down on the desk where her body slammed down on the hard wood.

“I don’t care.”

Maxwell slid out of her before ramming back into her dripping cunt with zero grace, continuing to do so as his hands gripped her hips hard enough that he would surely leave behind bruises come the next day. 

He thought about the way the same bruises would look on your hips.

 Your neck.

 Fuck, your chest. 

Hearing you moan his name like a plea, a chant to God but Maxwell was one being worshiped. All the bite you showed him at work would melt away when he slid inside you with a groan. His fingers digging into the plush give of your ass while pounding into your sweet pussy that gripped him like a fucking vice. 

“You love it.” He spoke through gritted teeth, hair unkempt and falling in front of his eyes. “You fucking love it don’t you?”

You nodded numbly, gripping onto the table and just barely managing a weak moan. Maxwell’s hand came down on your ass in a stinging slap that made you shout.  He didn’t care who outside his office heard you, Christ himself could be standing outside and that wouldn’t be enough to pull him from you.

“You speak when-” Maxwell groaned, doubling over your body and rutting into you like an animal. “You speak when you're fucking spoken to.”

Your back arched as his voice growled out against your neck. “I love it.” You fingers dragged against his mahogany desk that shook with each thrust. “I love it so fucking much.”

“I fucking know you do.” His hips stuttered against yours, hot waves of pleasure threatening to crash over him with every thrust, every bounce of your curls and every sweet coo of your voice. “You were made for just my cock, just for me. Weren’t you?”

“Just for you.” You panted. Your knees knocked together as he pushed you into the desk more with each selfish thrust of his cock. “All yours max, only yours.”

Maxwell’s hand slammed down on the table next to Delilah’s head as he came with a low groan. Delilah, feeling her own high slowly retreating, whined. 

“Max please.” She begged. “I’m so close please just-” she squeaked at the feeling of her boss pulling out of her in record time as he cleaned himself up. 

“How many times to I have to fucking tell you, address me as Mr.Lord or Sir-” his eyes cut down at her trembling form. “-or don’t bother speaking at all.”

Delilah pushed herself off his desk with a weak nod. 

“Yes Mr.Lord.”

“Send a reminder to that archaeologist for this Friday.” Maxwell had already fastened his belt and taken seat at his desk once more, plucking the now disarrayed papers off the cool surface and shuffling them into a neat pile in his hands. He read them while he walked over to the bookshelf raised on the wall 

“She seems like a ditz and I want to make sure this meeting doesn’t fall through.”

Delilah frowned, tilting her head to the side. A gesture some men may find charming if they were ten years younger and didn't run a fucking company that this idiot woman worked for. 

“Archaeologist?”

“The mousy one that works at the museum.” He reminded her. “If you don’t remember at this point, that’s your own fault for only paying attention to the things I say when you’re on my dick.” Without looking up from the papers in his hand, Maxwell waved a hand in the direction of his office door. 

“That will be all.”

Delilah bowed her head, whether to hide the bright blush on her face or angry tears, he didn’t know. And quite frankly? 

He didn’t care. 

He was already focused on the papers he skimmed, deals and mergers that could break other companies while making him a richer man. 

At least that’s what he told himself while your voice was playing in his head like a broken record. 

Angry, brown eyes left the paper to stare at an unopened bottle of whiskey on the shelf that stared back at him. 

A wedding gift. 

The irony of it all wasn’t lost on him as he forwent a glass and drank straight from the bottle in hopes of drowning all thoughts of you. 

The bottle was halfway empty when he gave up.

[captainsourwolf]

I had an email about a new Netflix movie:

And my brain immediately went the rhinky route.

Like, Rhett would be the wealthy charmer that’s been eyeballing the Neal farm (maybe a vineyard??) farther up north, around San Fran, and all its potential to make him even wealthier.

Link would be the hardworking farmer (vineyard grape picking person?? wine maker?? idk) that’s trying his best to keep the place afloat after his grandpa passes and his nana moves back to NC to live with his mom. So he’s the one running things and struggling with the upkeep and holding onto employees but he’s making it work.

Rhett first heard about the Neal vineyard after one of his potential clients brought him a bottle of their finest for dinner. He hears all about the eldest Neal getting sick and passing suddenly a few months ago and his one and only grandson—an engineer from LA—taking over. The story piques his interest because wine that good has got to be a big money maker. So he gets more info out of his client, finds out the place can’t hold down any employees since Neal passed, and he’s immediately sure of what he has to do to get the inside scoop to try and take the place.

Link sees an application for a fellow North Carolina man with experience in working on a farm and calls him right away. Rhett’s his name. He comes in for an interview and Link hires him on the spot. He’s also enamored right away the guy. Tall, legs for days, buff enough to crush Link if he wanted, kind eyes, and wild unkempt curls. He doesn’t flush when Rhett shakes his hand.

Rhett is all confidence in the interview, hiding what he really does and playing up his resume. The guy, Link, hires him on the spot. And Rhett doesn’t stare a little too long at the lock of salt n pepper hair hanging in his face, or the too blue eyes and the glasses and the broad shoulders and the tired but beautiful smile.

So Rhett starts working within the week. He moves into the house used for the workers with his minimal possessions. He isn’t looking forward to actually having to do all this hard work, but anything for his next big thing. He’s all about the money and the finer things in life after all. He fumbles through his first few days, hardly sees Link, but when he does he looks a little longer than he should.

The guy is attractive. More than he has any right to be for a struggling vineyard owner. He works in his office most days, and some days he’s out in the field with what few employees are left. In the fields he sweats under the glare of the sun, so much so his shirt clings to every dip and muscle. Rhett has to look away before he gets caught or finds himself in a situation. He can’t be attracted to the person he’s trying to sneakily buy out.

And Link, though he spends most of his days in the office, doesn’t miss Rhett when they’re in the field together or in the barn or wherever the man’s job for the day takes him. He doesn’t miss the way his biceps bulge when he’s lifting barrels of grapes onto the golf cart, and he doesn’t miss the way he shakes his hair out of his face when he’s hot, and he doesn’t miss the way the strip of tan skin between his jeans and shirt seems to stretch on for miles.

After a couple of weeks, Link finds himself alone in the office, in the entire house. He didn’t sign up for this, he didn’t sign up for a huge house and a vineyard and employees and just—the whole package. He’s not cut out for this life. If he could sell without losing everything he would. But his grandpa left it all for him to tend to and his nana couldn’t bear to be here anymore so he makes do. And it’s as he’s in the office alone that he hears a knock.

Rhett finds him. In the low lamplight, Link’s face is cast in shadow but his blue eyes and messy hair and tan skin still draw Rhett in. He swallows audibly and reminds himself he isn’t here for this and so he knocks to get Link’s attention. He doesn’t really remember what he was coming to talk to him about. He gets invited in and he sits.

They talk. About whatever. It’s stiff and awkward at first but after Link pours them a glass of their own wine, they loosen up. Share things. Both from North Carolina—Buies Creek, how bout that!—and both went to NC State. Went to the same schools, the same river, met up with their friends at the same spot in the same graveyard, how did they possibly miss each other so much? Rhett didn’t move there till third grade, Link was hiding in the bathroom from the John Carson’s every day and didn’t notice the new boy. Link was the shy and awkward kid, got called names so he made himself as small as possible, only had his mom and his grandparents and his one friend. And now here they are. Rhett a wealthy businessman and Link an unhappy engineer with a vineyard he was forced into.

Talking leads to quiet contemplation over another glass of wine. Third glass? Maybe. Rhett stares at Link, at the way his long fingers delicately hold the bottom of the glass, at the way his eyes droop the more he drinks, how blue they are in the lamplight. And Link watches Rhett. Watches the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way this one lone curl frames his ear, the way his neck flushes down his chest and into the unbuttoned V of his plaid shirt. He has to take another drink and doesn’t notice the way Rhett is gulping down the last of his, too.

Link starts talking about the vineyard and wanting to sell if it weren’t for the fact he’d lose everything. Rhett’s suddenly reminded of why he’s here and he clears his throat, shifts awkwardly in his chair, finally stands to leave. But a hand closes around his wrist across the desk and he sees Link standing, too, firm grip holding Rhett in place and blue of his eyes making him freeze.

Maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the rush of guilt, maybe it’s the time of night and the quiet of the office, but Link lets him go and Rhett meets him halfway and pins him against the edge. Something clatters to the floor as Link bumps into the desk and Rhett gets two big hands under his thighs to hoist him into the surface. It’s most definitely a mistake moving forward but Rhett can’t help it and neither can Link. Rhett’s hand are huge and warm and feel good around his hips, and the noises Link makes are sweet and filthy all at once and make heat curl in Rhett’s belly.

Doesn’t take much to get each other off. Link laid out across the desk while Rhett plants kisses and bites along his neck and throat and all over his torso and jerks his cock in tight strokes that have him moaning too loud. He cums first with a gasp and a moan and spills over Rhett’s fist hot and fast. Then he’s slipping off the desk much smoother than someone three glasses of wine and post orgasm should be able to manage. He gets on his knees and sucks Rhett off so good Rhett sees stars and hunches over palms flat on the desk when he groans and cums down Link’s throat. Rhett cleans them both up and they say goodnight, awkward and fumbling, still a little tipsy.

After that it’s awkward baby steps around each other. Link knowing he’s crossed a line with an employee and Rhett knowing he’s about to take everything out from under Link, and both knowing they want more. For a few days they only speak in employee/employer terms. Of course it breaks by the weekend and Link finds Rhett at the barn cleaning up from the day and can’t help but crowd him against the barrels to jerk him off (and Rhett can’t help but make some joke about the reason the wine is so good is because it has the secret ingredient.)

It becomes a thing. They seek each other out often. Mostly to screw around, sometimes to drink, sometimes to talk, and always to just be near each other. Rhett is slowly feeling guiltier and guiltier about why he’s here, why he’s lying to Link, his purpose for doing this in the first place. And Link is slowly realizing just how much he likes Rhett. How much he’d give up to be with Rhett. So they seek each other out, they fuck, they talk, they kiss, they work.

Of course nothing good can last. Link finds out about Rhett, who he really is, what he’s doing here. And it breaks him. Here he is, wishing he could sell, could be out from under this vineyard, falling for someone, and it’s all just been a lie. A big fat lie! He gets mad, he breaks a few things, he finds Rhett and confronts him, tells him he knows everything. Tells him he knows now he was just getting close to Link to sweep the rug out from under him and get richer quick before running off back to his cushy life in LA.

Rhett argues. They both argue. It’s explosive and Link leaves. When he comes back the next day Rhett is gone. All his things are gone and just like that, after just a few weeks, Link’s left feeling emptier than he did the day his grandpa died.

Time passes. Rhett finds other avenues to make money in LA. Doesn’t flinch when, three months after he leaves, he sees something about the Neal family vineyard going up for auction. The grandson finally caved and sold to the highest bidder, took the money, and left everything except his most prized possessions. Rhett ignores it and moves on despite the ache in his chest seeing the hollow look on Link’s face in the picture, his hand clasped in another’s as he makes the deal. He did this to Link, he supposes.

One day a bottle of wine shows up on his desk. It’s got the signature Neal family vineyard label, the year, and a special label advertising the secret ingredient. And then there’s Link. He looks defeated and sad. But he smiles when he sees Rhett and shrugs, gesturing to the offering.

They make up over that bottle of wine, Rhett tells him the truth about everything, Link forgives him because in the end he didn’t want the vineyard anymore anyway. He made a pretty penny selling in an auction, didn’t lose as much as he thought he would, and now he’s got enough to do what he wants for awhile. They make up some more when Rhett lays Link out across the couch in his office and does what he tried to convince himself he wasn’t missing all these months.

Eventually things even out. Link doesn’t sting whenever he sees something about his former family business and Rhett stops feeling so guilty. Everything works out in the end.

[dweetwise]

Felix and Ace having met before. Ace won a grand prize at the table and got an executive suite. Though his next door neighbor was Felix who was here on a business meeting to design a similar casino. (I am sorry I love imagining people meeting people before the fog)

this isn’t exactly what you asked for buuuut i needed to write something for waiter ace and you blessed me with this ask uwu also if you didn’t want a ship i’m sorry but that’s what i assumed! warning for closeted felix and mentions of the s3x but nothing nsfw actually happens

word count: 1860

Felix X Ace: Strictly Business

Felix wasn’t exactly prepared for the fog to transport him into another dimension. He'd read some theories, sure, and he'd seen his father disappear into thin air all those years ago, but to experience it first-hand was another thing entirely.

He also didn't expect the world in question to be controlled by an eldritch being that forced its captured victims into a gruesome game of hide and seek, killing and resurrecting him and others at will.

But he sure as hell didn't expect to come face to face with the biggest mistake of his life.

It takes Felix a minute to recognize the man, the small camp having so many new faces and names to memorize and they’re all speaking over each other—it's a lot to take in. But then he spots a familiar face, and everything the ginger woman is trying to explain to him becomes white noise as the man he focuses on laughs at something a boy in a beanie says.

Felix’s thoughts drift back to what feels like a lifetime ago, when he was on a business trip in Austria, staying at a luxurious casino. 

Him and a couple of other junior architects were invited to design an expansion to the building, and the best idea would be hired. Felix hated competition, he hated having to work on the field, and he hated the lavish, over-the-top style of the casino. But he was only starting to get his name out there, and couldn't afford to turn down any opportunities—if he played his cards right, this could be his stepping stone into more high-profile projects. Maybe he'd get to design an entire casino next time, without the twenty fake fountains and fuck-awful gold trims.

They were waited on like VIP:s while attending meetings in lavish conference rooms and bullshit marketing presentations about the brand. It was basically an all-inclusive stay, but Felix still despised it. He would have given anything to skip the unnecessary pleasantries and stay at home to draw the designs in peace.

He hated it right up until one of the waiters serving their mid-presentation coffees caught him suppressing a yawn and gave him a cheeky wink and a smirk. Felix had blinked, thinking he imagined it, but the more he kept staring, the more the waiter's smile seemed to widen.

Felix wasn't gay, but being an architect, he could appreciate aesthetically pleasing things in life. Like the waiter's symmetrical face, high cheekbones and good hairline. And eyes that sparkled with mischief even while he was outwardly completely professional.

And the way his work pants clung to his perky ass.

The waiter was suddenly a hundred times more interesting to him than the entire project. The project was predictable, and Felix once again found himself drawn to the unknown.

It wasn't a challenge to get the man's attention. He only had to linger behind after a dinner, and soon enough, there was a gloved hand brushing fleetingly against his neck as the man collected his plate. With the rest of the group having moved on, and Felix having had more than a few drinks, he'd asked if there was any possibility for room service. He was rewarded a lopsided grin and warm eyes shimmering with promise.

He always was much smoother when drunk off his ass.

He doesn't even remember what he'd designed by the end of his five-day-stay in the casino. He only remembers fucking the cute waiter against the tacky gold-trimmed headboard of the king-sized bed in his suite. And in the hot tub. And in a supply closet. It was a long week, okay?

His companion was named Luca. He'd only been working in the casino for a few months and was thinking of moving back to Italy, not being a fan of gambling or the over-the-top establishment. He had a charming accent and only spoke a couple of words of German, forcing Felix to use his own shaky English.

It was a shallow thing. Felix tried to keep his personal life private, and he definitely left out the part where he had a girlfriend back home. He'd ended up exaggerating his professional success, but wasn’t that what people did? He was just trying to make a good impression, 

After the week, Felix never talked to the other man again. He got home, unpacked his bags, and freaked out. He didn't even want to think about how unprofessional he'd been and how risky it was.

And definitely not about how much he'd enjoyed it.

The more he tried suppressing the thoughts, the more insistent they got. His brain was periodically invaded by images of warm brown eyes, expressive lips twisting into a hundred different smiles, and a laugh resonating in his ear, rich like his favorite double-roast coffee. The memories had haunted him for close to a decade, and he thought he'd finally gotten past them, ready to be a good father that had his shit together.

But here he is, seeing the same brown eyes light up with the same carefree smile and the sound of the same damn laugh echoing through the air and all the memories come flooding back.

The woman next to him hollers something to the group, and the familiar face looks his way. Even with the now grey hair and added wrinkles, Felix still finds himself just as transfixed as he'd been ten years ago.

He's introduced to the group, but he only really remembers one name and the overwhelming sense of wrongness that follows it; Ace. The revelation isn’t made any easier when he notices there isn't even a flicker of recognition in the eyes he remembers so fondly.

In the following couple of trials, Felix is only disappointed further. “Ace” doesn’t have an Italian accent anymore, in fact Felix catches him instead saying something in Spanish to the woman in a blazer. He’s also very keen on gambling, and the shiny satin smoker jacket he wears in one trial could have been straight from the tacky casino they met in. Was anything he told Felix about himself true?

It takes him a while to confront the man, debating back and forth inside his head. All of his focus should be on finding his father, and he needs to keep these people at arm’s length. Ace not remembering him is the best possible outcome of their brief past together, he tries to rationalize.

But in the end, curiosity wins over rationality, and when the opportunity presents itself, Felix is unable to resist.

“You really don't remember me, do you?” Felix asks, alone in the camp until Ace returns from a trial. The man pauses, eyebrows pinching together in confusion “I didn't leave you to die on hook, did I?” Ace asks. “That happens sometimes.” “No, I mean back in the other world,” Felix explains. “We've… met?” Ace asks.

Well. If that's what you want to call it.

“Yes,” Felix simply says and immediately, Ace cringes. “I'm sorry?” he offers. “Excuse me?” “I can count on one hand the people I've encountered who remember me fondly. There's a 99% chance you hate my guts, so I figured I'd get it over with quickly," Ace explains, seeming a little wary. “I don't hate you, I just can't believe you'd forget and… lie.” “Oh, I… I do that. Did—whatever. Nothing personal,” Ace shrugs. “I really don’t remember you, sorry.” “Casino in Vienna. 2011. I stayed at the hotel for a week. You were a waiter. You said your name was Luca. We—” Felix hesitates. “…'met'.” 

Multiple times on multiple surfaces.

“Vienna, huh? Hmm... Oh!” Ace's face suddenly lights up. “You were one of the suits, right? Some kind of… lawyer?” "Architect,” Felix corrects, a little miffed. “Same deal,” Ace dismisses with a wave of his hand. “So, are you still neck-deep in the closet?” “What?” Felix recoils. “That's—I'm not gay. It was a one-time-thing.” “That would be a yes,” Ace muses, almost as to himself. “So you do remember? All of it?” Felix prods. “Guess so. What, you want a repeat performance?” Ace asks, raising an eyebrow. “No! I just…” Felix falters. 

‘Wanted to make sure you didn't forget me because I’ve been thinking about you for the past ten years’? No way he’s admitting to any of that, so he puts on his business face.

“Wanted to come clean. So we're on the same page. To avoid any awkwardness,” Felix says instead, and it’s definitely not as smooth as he would have liked. “Right…” Ace says, regarding him skeptically.

There's a few seconds of extremely awkward silence while Ace just stares at him and Felix looks into the fire, trying to keep his face neutral and not sweat bullets. Eventually Ace sighs.

“Look, can I give you some friendly advice?” he asks. “I… I guess so," Felix says, a little confused. “Drop the act,” Ace says, looking him dead in the eye. “The manly man, excited father, respectable lawyer—” “Architect,” Felix, again, corrects in annoyance. “—suit guy thing, whatever. It's not going to serve you any purpose in here. These people see right through any bullshit, trust me on that one,” Ace adds with a knowing smile that Felix has never seen before.

He doesn't have any time to think of a reply before they're interrupted, the girl with a beanie cussing up a storm while a young guy in a sailor uniform sits down in front of Ace expectantly and the man cracks a joke and immediately starts tending to the bloody gash in the kid's shoulder.

The wound is bleeding heavily but the duo keeps chatting without a care in the world. Felix remembers he got a gauze roll from the… blood web?—and he rifles through his meager belongings before approaching the two.

“You… um,” Felix stammers, holding out the item to Ace. “Would this help?” “Cool!" the teen chirps while Ace takes the offered item silently, regarding Felix with an unreadable expression. "Thanks—uhh, what was your name again?" the kid grins sheepishly. “Felix,” he says. “And… yours?” he asks, swallowing his pride and now hesitantly curious to learn more about his companions. “I'm Steve! This is Ace, and the moping bitch over there is Nea!” Steve exclaims with a bright smile that shows his bloodied teeth. “Dude, fuck off!" the girl, Nea, calls. “Hey Felix, anyone teach you how to use a flashlight yet?" “No, not really," Felix confesses, cautiously approaching the girl. “I understand the need for tools and medical supplies, but… what would you use a torch for?” ------------------ “So how's the new guy holding up?” Steve asks. Ace looks over to where Felix is sitting with Nea. “Allvarligt—förstår du mig inte?” Nea has apparently moved on from flashlight training to Swedish lessons. “For the last time, your Swedish sounds like gibberish to me," Felix explains. "Just because the languages are related—" “Sheiße,” Nea interrupts with a grin, moving to swear in German. “A multilingual genius, I see,” Felix deadpans. “He's learning,” Ace says, hiding his own hopeful smile behind the fluffy hair of the boy he's patching up.

(nea’s line: “seriously, you don’t understand me?”) i’m not 100% happy w this fic, esp since it’s about a new character but it’s a start at least! i also really wanted to throw in a “sure you’re hot but you were so boring i forgot all about you” line but it didn’t fit and now you just have to imagine that’s what ace was thinking

[no-goddamn-cilantro]

I got a bug, so I decided to write this ridiculous nonsense.

Adventures in Babysitting

The ship hummed softly as the power-down sequence began, and Rocket was quick to hop out of the pilot's chair and make his way back to the makeshift child seat Gamora insisted he use. Something-something safety, something-something, blah-blah-blah, whatever.* Groot's safety is and always will be number one, but it's insulting that she thinks a glorified bucket with a seat harness is going to do shit. Rolling his eyes to himself, he lifts the "baby carrier" by the handle and disembarks, wincing in the bright sunlight on Peter's home world.

He probably should have told Peter he was going to come, see if the guy had any family to visit. Ah well. Too late now, time to meet his old pal to drop off the kid before getting down to business.

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

Dyn Jarren was, to put it mildly, exhausted. After Sporog, there had been nine other planets, either too hostile or where they were too easily found. Nine.* So he'd decided to... Branch out a bit. Hit the next Galaxy over- he had contacts there, a Mandalorian covert hiding away on the moon of some backwater planet called Terra where the locals had barely managed to intrude on the dead rock, let alone notice the comings and goings of the refugees on their own moon. One of these Terrans had even gained that most precious of commodities years ago, the Mandalorian's trust.

There were three shootouts, a target's gills getting infected with fishrot, and said Terran actually convincing the target to be encased in Carbonite willingly. It was a wild four days, but the man was trustworthy, never having breathed a word of what happened during his "spirituality retreat."

Landing in a tucked away copse of trees near his contact's current location, he hefts The Child into his arms, turning his head to shush him gently.

"None of that. It's faster if I carry you."

Without another word he disembarked down the gangplank and set off at a brisk pace, following the coordinates in his helmet's display.

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

Keanu was sitting in the sunny Northern California early afternoon, dozing off if he were to tell the truth, at the rather larger home than he really needed that had been rented for the next week. He wanted plenty of room for Rocket and his young ward to explore and relax though, so this was his best option. It was secluded, no neighbors for miles, with a dense forest to the back and miles of vineyards in lieu of the missing neighbors.

A coo only a few feet from him caused him to jerk fully awake suddenly, eyes opening to see a man he'd never expected to see again and- was that a child?

Standing, he greeted the unexpected guest from outer space with a pleased smile.

"Mando! Man, wow, it's been like- six years? How are you? And who's this little guy??" As he approached his face broke into a more intimate grin as he made eye contact with the tiny green child, delight lighting up his face as The Child gifted him with another coo.

The Mandalorian, for his part, gives a neutral hum that borders on pleased. "This is The Child. We're currently hiding from parties that want him dead- or worse. I was hoping we could lay low here for a while- is that alright with you?"

Keanu, for his part, is astounded at that story, but the only question that passes through his lips is, "Mando, have you not... Named your kid?"

Despite being able to see exactly none of the Mandalorian's face, he can practically feel* the other man's blush. "... It hasn't been important so far."

"Mando!"

"Keanu." Unexpected, deadpan snark from his friend, but he rolls with it. Abruptly, he remembers his manners and invites them hurriedly, offering food and beverages. Dyn declines both for himself, but soup for The Child if he has it. Keanu does and quickly begins heating some on the stove. While that's working, he tries to figure out how to tell the bounty hunter about his other, expected visitor.

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

As it turns out, the Mandalorian wasn't terribly fussed about his having other guests, so long as they didn't try to harm either the man or the* child, though the Terran man was subjected to a hard stare he couldn't see but could definitely feel when he mentioned his other guests were "a little unusual-looking."

Rocket, true to form, didn't bother with knocking, though Keanu was openly relieved he used a door at all for entering the abode. The bipedal raccoon, on the other hand, was distinctly and obviously uncomfortable. With a blatantly false smile across his snout and speaking through his teeth, Rocket jerks his head a few times back towards the living room from the doorway of the kitchen where he'd abruptly halted.

"Hey, Neo, need to talk to you real quick. In here. Away from the bounty hunter."

The implacable stare of the helmet followed them out of the room and until they turned the corner, Rocket leading his friend halfway up the stairs leading to the bedrooms. Before Keanu can speak, Rocket is standing- somehow- on the railing and gripping the collar of his jacket, pulling him close to mutter threateningly in his face. "I don't know what that guy has told you, but I don't have any more bounties on my head. I went straight, we all went straight, we're doing good now. I won't let some Mandalorian asshole with out of date information skin me for credits, you got it?"

"I'm not here on a bounty."

Both man and raccoon in the stairwell jump, looking down at the Mandalorian standing with crossed arms. He continues, unperturbed by the blatant hostility of the raccoon that scampers down the stairs to stand eye to... Well, hip, until he takes advantage of the banister again. "I'm just laying low for a while. Needed a place to hide. Keanu mentioned you were coming." At the last sentence Rocket glares back at the man, before Mando dryly adds, "We were unexpected. You weren't."

Keanu decides that he needs a strong mug of tea.

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

So once helmet-head and his little goblin child are settled in the dining area, Rocket goes to collect Groot and his- bucket, no, carrier- from where he'd left him napping in the sun. He is completely unsurprised that his own little monster child has managed to escape the prison of the child seat and is frolicking in the yard after a butterfly or some shit. Rocket allows himself the barest moment of tender enjoyment of watching Groot just be happy, before he knuckles up and shouts across the open lawn.

"Hey Groot, come meet your babysitter! I don't got all day, hurry it up!" The tree person- is he a shrub right now? He's small enough to be a shrub- comes scampering across the yard, stopping in front of Rocket, crossing his arms, and indignantly huffing.

"I am Groot."

"Yes, you do. I can't leave you on the ship by yourself for a couple of days."

"I am Groot!"

"Because I'm the adult and you're not right now."

"I am Groot?"

"Keanu. Don't give me that look, that's his real name."

"I am Groot."

"Look who's talkin'! You think either of us have room to be critical of someone else's name?"

"... I am Groot..."

"That's what I thought. Now c'mon, he's waiting inside and he made you food, so be grateful."

He takes his ward's hand, leading him inside. More to himself than anything, he mutters, "But Keanu is a weird fuckin' name..."

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

The second meeting with the children present goes much smoother than the first. They sit and share a meal- with the exception of Dyn Jarren, who answers endless questions about Mandalorians, his helmet, his weapons, and anything else Rocket can think of to annoy him with, with a remarkable amount of patience- if not without more of the snark Keanu witnessed earlier. The fathers then send their children to play, with stern warnings about not leaving the yard that are, the Terran is sure, going to be completely ignored. He has to grip Mando's sleeve to get him to sit and stay after some noises of play begin and the man slightly panics.

Rocket, for his part, decides to refuse to be this much of a worrywart over Groot upon observing the bounty hunter's near-palpable anxiety over his foundling.

Keanu decides to get into the practicalities of the next few days, asking what each child likes to eat, when they're supposed to sleep, and what discipline they're used to, ready to take notes.

Both Mandalorian and raccoon stare at him blankly after the first question. He tries again, starting with what he thought was the easiest question.

"what time do they generally go to sleep?"

"Uhhh, Groot just sorta passes out when he's tired. Usually about... 9ish? I guess?"

"Does he nap during the day?"

"How'm I supposed to know, I'm workin'! He just sleeps when he's tired."

"Mando?"

The bounty hunter's shoulders drop slightly in what might be classed as defeat. "He sleeps all the time in about two hour chunks, then he's up for about five." When the Terran blinks at him in what looks a lot like confusion, he sighs. "I've tried getting him to sleep longer, but unless he ends up using his abilities, it's just not happening."

Keanu nods in what appears to be deliberate lack of judgement, making notes on either side of his page. Rocket snatches the paper almost as soon as he's done with his bedtime notes, barking a laugh at the name given for The Child.

"Mando Jr.? Really, bounty hunter? You couldn't come up with anything better?"

"... I didn't come up with it."

"So what's his real name?"

"... It's not important. That'll do for now."

And so the conversation went, discipline being a similarly baffling subject for both of them. When it came to food though, they found surprising common ground.

""Frogs.""

Keanu made a continue gesture after they both looked at each other in surprise, before Rocket jocularly punched Dyn on the shoulder. Dyn, for his part, just seemed exhausted. Keanu could relate.

"Soup. Small bits of meat... Mushrooms. Insects if he can catch them."

"Groot'll eat anything, kid's a trash compactor. We done here?"

Keanu is more than happy to finish out the conversation there, releasing them to go check in on their kids before headed out. Sometime in the last few hours, Rocket had decided a Mandalorian was pretty good backup for what he was doing and asked if Dyn would like to come along. The bounty hunter had sighed heavily before nodding his agreement.

Which brought them back around to the sitter conversation that now had Keanu reaching for the tea kettle again.

It was going to be a long three days.

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

Keanu, for his part, was pleased to discover Groot had no problems retreating to his and Rocket's room at 9pm for bed. The Yiddling, as was the name that seemed to stick for the sitter, was another story.

He whined, he grizzled, he even squealed a time or two. The Terran just kept calmly holding the kid and bouncing gently, singing half-remembered lullabies to the child as it slowly, eventually, tired itself out. Keanu very gently lowered the child into the crib he'd acquired from the bounty hunter's ship before they left, taking the three steps back to his bed to collapse backwards into the sheets and blissfully drop off after hours of soothing a fussy toddler who could move things with his mind.

For two hours. Then the crying began again.

It was a long night for everybody, and the sitter was more than happy to go start the coffee pot just as the first fingers of sunlight began to creep over the treetops behind the house. By the time he had breakfast prepared for the two children under his care, the kitchen was bathed in golden morning sunlight. The two ate well, then his little tree-like charge turned to him with a stubborn tilt to his head.

"I am Groot."

"A nature walk? Why?"

"I am Groot!"

"I somehow really doubt the forests of Earth are your ancestral home."

"I am Groot!"

"... You know what, an excellent point. You two can find all the frogs you like and I won't have to attempt to catch any for you. We'll go in a little bit, okay? I need to pack you both lunches in case we're out for a while, and I need to put together that thing."

"That thing" was, in fact, a jogging stroller for doubles. A quick overnight delivery after the arrival of not one, but two children in his care necessitated it, and it had arrived promptly at 8am. He cleaned up after his little charges, helped them both wash their hands in the sink, and then sent them to play for a while as he carefully read the instructions for assembly.

One hour, two bandages, and a hurried, "don't repeat that!" tossed in a nosey Groot's direction after some overheard profanity, and the babysitter had the stroller ready. He packed two quick lunches based on the Yiddling's preferences- as his was the more specified, and Groot really would eat anything, including the plate- and got them all out the door, a bag of essentials that he resolutely would not call a diaper bag tucked into the very-convenient compartment beneath the seats of the stroller and took them down the path that had a trail head right there in the backyard. Keanu decided Groot really did have an excellent idea with this.

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

Two hours later Keanu was smugly pleased with both the nature walk and the double stroller. Both kids were passed out asleep in their stroller seats, snoring gently with the remains of their lunches clasped gently in sticky fingers- twigs? Claws? Fingers was just easier for Keanu's exhausted but triumphant brain- and resting lightly in their laps. He was now taking a leisurely stroll back to the house, enjoying the peace as much as communing with nature.

And so that's how the three spent the next several sleep-deprived days. Breakfast, stroller, wander through nature (one extremely disturbing frog-hunting hour around a pond that he's never mentioning to another living soul except for maybe their parents) lunch and afternoon naps, playing tag and other such games in the yard, dinner, and then a fraught bedtime with the little Yiddling.

When their parents returned, Rocket was nearly bowled over by an excited Groot, being squeezed happily by suddenly very long toddler tree arms. The Mandalorian was passed The Child by a tired but very happy Keanu, who reported to both parents that they were good kids and behaved. Mando was surprised in equal measure by both the Yiddling- he was keeping that name for him, thank-you Keanu- falling asleep in his arms immediately, and the sitter in question's flabbergasted stare that soon melted into a soft, gentle smile.

As they each departed for their ships after what was decidedly a warmer and noisier splash than The Mandalorian had wanted to make on this planet, they were both secretly pleased at just how comfortable their children had been with the Terran, and at how well they'd been able to work together.

Perhaps they'd have to do this again sometime.

[amyscascadingtabs]

i’ll walk through hell with you

chapter 3: even if we’re breaking down

Amy searches for - and gets - some answers, but decision-making turns out to be a bumpier ride than expected.

read on ao3

read earlier chapters

february

The first days are always worst.

The first days after the start of another period, another negative test, the first days of knowing that no, it didn't work this time either, are always darkest. There's no trace of the enthusiasm she feels every time there's a positive result on her ovulation tests, no hint of the careful confidence each time her period is a day or two late. Instead, Amy feels both like she's constantly on the verge of tears and like she'll never experience an emotion again. Excruciating pain, then complete numbness. Everything, then nothing. 

 Each month, she wishes for her life to pause for a moment, letting her hide underneath the warm comforter for days without talking to anyone. Each month, it continues without lenience. 

She still has to wake up in the mornings, get herself ready, make sure everyone wears clothes and eats breakfast and gets to wherever they’re supposed to be. She has to get through her workday, filled with assignments and must-dos and complaints and petty arguments, and when she’s finally done, there’s a daycare pick-up and food shopping and a full evening remaining. 

Her life won’t give her a break, won’t give her a chance to retreat into a corner and scream her lungs out in frustration over why her body's not cooperating, why she's not getting pregnant when it happened near effortlessly the last time. She finds herself getting jealous of her two-year-old, who currently handles most of her frustrations by laying down on the floor and screaming until she's red in the face. Compared to the torture of maintaining the illusion that everything's fine and she's not falling into pieces, Amy feels like a couple conspicuous, falsetto anger screams of her own would be quite the relief. 

Adulthood is truly overrated at times.

 She keeps going despite her bitterness and anxiety, because if she stops, everything will fall apart, and if everything falls apart, she has to put it back together. She lets her life continue despite the heaviness in her heart, because it has to, so she forces a smile and curses the fact that for some reason, everyone around her seems to be pregnant or have a newborn.

She doesn't know if it's solely because she’s paying more attention, but she swears they're everywhere. A beat cop in her squad, a witness she helps interview, a stranger next in line to her at Starbucks and a teacher at Leah's daycare, the latter prompting the toddler to ask her first curious questions about where babies come from - specifically, how one got inside her teacher. Amy makes an honest, well-intentioned attempt to give a simplified explanation of two people who love each other very much, but it turns out Leah's major concern is whether or not Miss Edwards ate the baby living inside her tummy and whether or not that means someone could eat her, too.

(“Jake, please stop telling your daughter about how you’ve been friends with a cannibal.”)

(“It's not my fault she picks up on everything!”)

 It feels like a taunt, like the world is laughing at her while she tries to keep it together. She can’t even get a break when she stops by Target on the way to pick up Leah from daycare. She's only picking up socks, some emergency groceries, and cold medicine, but of course, she all but walks right into a display of Valentine’s Day-themed babywear and has to stop herself from standing there and staring at the tiny, heart-patterned, onesies and pacifiers. 

Amy has to remind herself they have boxes of Leah's old baby clothes left in the attic, so she shouldn't have been going too crazy with buying new baby clothes even if she had been pregnant. Even so, she cannot shake the stinging reminder that if there had been a baby on the way, she would have been perfectly able to buy the impossibly soft pajamas with multicolored hearts and a matching hat, and the thought wouldn't have felt deeply, intensely wrong. 

She puts the item back, fast as if it had burnt her.

 There’s traffic on the way to the daycare, enough to make her about ten minutes late and double her stress levels. Her two-year-old might not know the clock, but she’s become easily worried as of late, and the catastrophe part of Amy's brain pictures a devastated child crying about whether her parents are ever coming to get her. She rushes into the building all out of breath from stress and anxiety, only to find out Leah is happily playing with building blocks and shows zero interest in saying goodbye to her friends to go home. Amy decides to spare herself an argument today and lets her daughter play for ten minutes extra while she sits down on the floor to catch her breath. 

 Although Leah’s only a toddler yet, Amy keeps being surprised by the tremendous pride she feels watching this child learn about and slowly take on the world. She watches her communicate with the other kids around her even on limited vocabulary, watches her construct simple towers and laugh when she pushes them over and the blocks scatter, sees her wave goodbye to her friend when another parent comes to pick up one of the kids she was playing with. 

Of all her achievements in life, Amy can’t quite grasp the fact that she - admittedly with some help - created this person who’s becoming more and more her own individual by the day. It’s all moving so fast, each day bringing new surprises and challenges, and it’s all making her increasingly certain their lives would be even more of a wonderful whirlwind with the addition of another child. 

 She’s thought about the possibility of not having one, too. During her most exhausting days, when the scheduling and stressing and ovulation testing feels like a third full-time job on top of the two she already has, she’s toyed with the thought of ignoring it, but she always ends up returning to her original wish. There’s certain guilt to it, a nagging thought in the back of her head wondering if she’s ungrateful. She already has the best kid in the world, and maybe she’s egoistic to want another. She’s struggling even to explain it to herself, how it has nothing to do with ungratefulness for the child she has and everything to do with how she always pictured herself having at least two kids, how it feels like another baby would make their already perfect family that much more perfect. If they’re awesome like this, a fourth member would make them sensational, and if one kid is magical, Amy imagines two would be out of this world.

She just wishes the second one could hurry up already. Beginning to exist, for example, would be a great start.

 She’s vaguely aware of what’s happening in the room, too tired and stressed and in her head to notice much, but she snaps back to reality once Leah stands up and walks over to her, wrapping her arms around Amy’s chest. 

“Sad,” she says, and Amy’s confused because the toddler seemed perfectly fine a minute ago, but then she clarifies. “Mama’s sad.”

Oh.

“Yeah,” she admits, stroking Leah’s hair and hugging her back, feeling her earlier so high heartbeat return to a normal pace once her two-year-old’s in her arms. “I’m a little sad today. That’s okay. Everyone’s sad sometimes.”

“Wait.” Leah squirms out of Amy’s grip, disappearing to the chest of drawers in the corner of the room and finding the one with her picture on it. She pulls out the stuffed animal in the shape of a lion they keep at the daycare for nap-time and comfort, runs over to Amy again, and places the toy in her lap. “Better now.”

Amy wants to cry again, but this time, it’s tears of love, and pride, and gratefulness for this shockingly emotionally intelligent child who she can’t help but wrap in another hug, holding her tightly and kissing her cheeks until she starts giggling. 

“I’m much better now,” she agrees, and Leah shines up. 

“I’m nice!” She points to herself, looking mighty proud, and Amy laughs at the beautiful confidence.

“You are so nice, baby. Do you think we can go home now? I know your dad promised he’d make spaghetti tonight. Can you say spaghetti?”

“Spaghetti!” Leah exclaims, and then she’s out in the hallway and already busy trying to put her shoes on the wrong feet by the time Amy’s stood up.

 Each month her life keeps refusing to pause. No matter how tiring and exhausting it gets at times, she suspects it might be for the best. 

 -  

  For all the things not working out for them within the whole having-a-baby project, the process of finding time to try and make said baby on the right days every month works smoother than Amy expected it to. Sure, it's not the most romantic feeling to have a sense of obligation hovering over them for the specific days, and it brings an odd pressure to it she's not sure she enjoys, but it works. They make time, somehow, and they get all the way until month five of trying before they have to take to desperate measures.

“To be clear,” Amy mutters before Jake's even closed the supply closet door behind him. “I really don’t like that we're doing this here.”

“Yeah, you repeated that about twenty or so times when I suggested it.” He smirks, locking the door carefully. “It's okay. Also, the cameras don't reach into that corner.”

“Still. The whole thing. I was voted -”

“Most appropriate, I know.” The cheeky smile he gives her makes her feel a bit less awful about their decision. “God, I can't believe you agreed to this.”

“You should make sure I don't change my mind, then.”

“Oh, I will.”

He sounds confident, and it makes her snort with laughter because doing this at the precinct feels absurd and wildly inappropriate, but in a way, there's something about them sneaking around - the time-efficacy and detailed planning of it - making her find it kind of hot, too. Hotter than she'd be willing to admit. This baby-planning thing must truly be making her crazy, Amy thinks, but there’s no time to lose and this is not the time for analyzing. 

 She closes the distance between them, cupping his face with her hands as she would for any gentle kiss, only this time, she puts enough force in her movement to press him up against the wall as their lips, then tongues, meet.

It’s clear from the way he gasps, and from the way his hands wave before finding their place on her upper back, that he wasn’t expecting her to take charge like this. It spurs her on, because a flustered Jake is high up on the list of her favorite Jakes, and god, does she love seeing and feeling him react to her in that way. It’s an unambiguous and cherished reminder of how even after eight years, she’s able to surprise him as much as he can surprise her, and if anything, she’s learned exactly how it’s done. 

They're both panting when she lets go, getting worked up in the competitive heat. Amy uses the quick break to get to work on his top plaid buttons and Jake's not slow to follow with her uniform, but she's not letting him take the lead in this game yet. The unbuttoned plaid allows her to pull the collar of his grey t-shirt aside. At first, the kisses she presses to the top of his collarbone and the crook of his neck are light and teasing, but then they turn into sharper biting and he straight-up moans.

If she couldn't feel his enthusiasm before, she definitely can now. It doesn't leave her unaffected; she subtly presses herself even closer to him, and while she's sucking hard enough on his shoulder to leave a mark, his hands are roaming along her back, under her shirt, playing with her belt for a second before she moves his hand away.

“Don't be impatient,” she warns with another sly bite to his neck. “If we're going to do this here, I'm in charge.”

“You're really out to kill me, huh?”

“Yeah, but you love me.” Amy punctuates the sentence with a kiss, feeling him smile against her lips.

“I do,” he breathes as her hands wander down, taking time to trace patterns with her nails along his lower back. “I really, really do.”

 “I stand by this being a stupid idea,” she mumbles when they’re catching their breath, trying to return to their previous states of dress with the help of a phone flashlight in the half-darkness, because of course the lighting in this place is busted. Amy considers it a miracle she could keep herself from having a panic attack thanks to claustrophobia, but she supposes determination and enough distraction are powerful tools.

Jake snickers, fumbling with the buttons of his plaid while she holds the phone’s flashlight for him. “You’re acting like you didn’t enjoy it.”

“I did,” she says, rolling her eyes at him. “Doesn’t make it any less inappropriate.”

“It was fun, though.”

“It was.” She kisses the tip of his nose, adjusting his collar to hide the beginning of a red and purple shadow at the nape of his neck. “I suppose even desperate measures can be fun sometimes.”

“Even desperate measures can be fun sometimes, title of your sextape.”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

 ~

 march

 “So what’s the verdict for this month?” Jake joins her in the bathroom as she puts the test down to develop. He’s holding two cups of tea and gives her one of them before sitting down next to her, leaning against the bathtub. “Did our crazy workplace rule-breaking pay off?”

“Three minutes, grasshopper.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grins. “But what do you think? Any hunches? Gut feelings? Visions in a dream?”

Amy snorts, taking a sip of the green chai tea. “Certainly no dream visions. I don't know. Maybe, but I don't want to get my hopes up too much. What's your guess?”

“I'm feeling good about this one,” Jake declares, nodding towards the white and blue plastic stick placed on the floor tiles a foot in front of them. “Let's hope I'm right.”

“Yeah. Let's hope.”

 She leans her head on his shoulder as they wait, and his right arm wraps around her back, stroking her hair while they stare at the tiny display window. There's always a curious atmosphere to these moments, before there's been any disappointment and there's still hope of a positive result, and she revels in knowing that until the timer goes off, there's a chance. Until the test has finished developing, there's a possibility of their fourth family member existing inside her - the size of a poppy seed, but existing. 

Perhaps month five of trying could be their month. If not, Amy thinks she might just go crazy. 

 The timer rings, pulling her out of her hopeful dreaming, and she turns it off with a quick tap before reaching for the test.

She was prepared for it. Yet, it feels like a betrayal to see the single line appearing without a trace of another.

“Nope,” she sighs. “Nothing this month either.”

“It's just an early test,” Jake suggests, a trace of hopefulness remaining in his eyes. “You said they're not always accurate that early, and you’ve not gotten your period yet, which means there's hope, right?”

Amy shakes her head. “These tests have been accurate all the other months. This body,” she points to herself, “isn’t pregnant, and apparently, it doesn’t want to be.”

“Come on, Ames. Five months isn't that long.”

“It isn’t?”

“... No? We’ll try again. It’s not a big deal, babe. It's nothing.”

 It’s the same phrase again; the one she’s heard a million times at this point - from Jake, herself, Julian, a friendly stranger on a web forum during a particularly anxious night a few weeks ago. If she hears it another time in the same lighthearted, happy-go-lucky tone the pessimist part of her brain makes Jake’s voice sound like, she’s going to be seriously tempted to punch that person. 

She doesn’t, this time, but she does question it. 

 “When does it become something?”

Jake furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

"Because everyone always says the same thing. One month is nothing. Three months is nothing.”  Amy twirls the negative test between her fingers. “Four months was nothing, either. So when does it become something?"

“I don't think I get it -”

“When,” she inhales, “does it go from nothing to something? Where do you draw the line?” 

“Oh.” He grimaces, taking the test from her and inspecting it for a second before placing it on top of the trashcan. “I actually don't know, babe.”

“I think I'm going to try scheduling a thorough checkup,” she says, deciding it as she speaks it out loud. “Just so we can exclude anything being seriously wrong.”

“Sure, okay.” Jake nods, pressing a kiss to her forehead and holding her impossibly closer. She doesn't protest, because her dismay and dejection are never quite as severe in the safety of his embrace, and although she feels like a failure who keeps being betrayed by her own body, as long as he’s holding her, it’s easier to breathe. “If you think it's going to make you feel better.”

“Yeah,” she whispers, and at that moment, she can't imagine any knowledge being worse than the no man’s land of confusion and desperation she’s begun to feel stuck in. “I think it's going to make me feel better.”

 There’s no reason for them to stay there, cross-legged on the bathroom floor with Jake holding her close and stroking her back without speaking, but neither makes any attempts to move. Moving means having to move on, and though Amy knows they have to and they will, it seems impossible to do so straight away. If Jake is aching to do so, she’s not sure, but at least he doesn’t rush her - he sits there and lets her process until she forces herself to draw back and take a deep breath before standing up.

“It’s going to be okay,” he reminds her when she finally does, and she manages a weak smile upon noting the devotion and steadfastness in his gaze as he says it.

She places her hand over his heart, as has become their little well-ingrained habit and silent love language over the years, and he holds it, rubbing his thumb over hers. “I know.”

At least the two of them are staying intact, she thinks, and allows herself a moment’s gratefulness. 

  - 

  Amy's lived through her fair share of situations where she's been thankful for the fact that her job forces her to practice authoritativeness on a daily basis. She never imagined the process of trying to get an appointment with a fertility doctor to be one of them, but it very much is. 

It takes nine different calls, one forgetful medical secretary, ten requests for her to hold for a quick moment that in two cases ends up being several minutes, two times taking calls inside the evidence locker to avoid being spotted, and one incident of screaming into a pillow in frustration, but eventually, she scribbles down an appointment set for next week at a nearby fertility clinic in her calendar and does a short victory dance out of pure relief. Then Leah spots her doing so and starts laughing, and what was supposed to be a brief victory gesture quickly becomes a smaller dance party and makes an already good afternoon even better. 

Amy goes to bed with a new sense of hope that night. She’s going to go to the appointment, get some shot or supplement to solve whatever little dysfunction is happening with her body, and everything’s going to be fine. For once, she’s certain about it.

 She’s certain about it all the way up until she steps foot inside the actual clinic. 

As positive a picture as she painted this place in her head while doing research, being there is stranger than she’d expected, making her feel oddly misplaced and uncomfortable. Maybe it’s the fact that Jake’s not with her, that their packed schedules forced them to choose between both going to the same appointment and being able to get a time somewhere in the nearest month, that’s making her feel off. He’s sent her a cheerful Good Luck-text with double exclamation points and a trio of heart emojis, and she musters a smile as she replies to it and he sends a bitmoji back, but he’s not there and it’s making her feel a lot more vulnerable than she would in his presence. 

I wish you were here, she writes, and it’s a mere second before he’s written back, me too.

 The waiting room walls are decorated with at least twenty framed photographs of newborn babies. Like a wall of fame, Amy thinks, snapping a picture to send to Jake, but a wall of babies. She wonders if they’re supposed to serve as encouragement, some kind of goal picture, and wonders how smart of a design choice such is for a clinic that could be meeting infertile couples daily. Then she scratches the thought, because it shouldn't matter to her - she's not one of them.

She's going to be fine. It's nothing but a safety check.

She still wishes Jake could have been there.

 “You’ve been pregnant before, correct?” The fertility doctor Amy’s meeting manages to make her feel more at ease. The woman - Dr. Thompson, she introduces herself - can't be many years older than Amy, has light hair and a comforting aura about her smile, and from the furious pace with which she's scribbling on her notepad while asking questions, Amy assumes she's thorough. A good sign, she figures.

“Yeah, I have a two-year-old.”

“How long did it take for you to conceive the first time?”

“A month? Really fast.”

Dr. Thompson taps her pen against the notepad. “So this is the first time you're having trouble with it.”

“Yes.” Amy nods, pressing her nails into her wrist one by one to keep focus. “It seems weird to me, because my mother had eight kids and was 42 when she had her last, so I figured…”

“Genetics isn’t always a guarantee.” The doctor offers Amy an excusing smile. She supposes it should be a calming act, but it has the opposing effect. “And how long have you been trying now?”

“Five-six months.”

“Tracking your ovulation?”

“Yes.” Obsessively, Amy wants to add. 

Dr. Thompson nods, making another note on her pad. “We do recommend couples over 35 to come in if nothing's happening after six months of actively trying, so it's good you're here. I'll ask you a few additional questions, and then we can start with the physical exam. Does that seem okay?”

“Sure,” Amy hears herself lie.

 It doesn't feel okay, not in any way whatsoever. She shouldn’t be sitting here, answering weirder questions about her medical and reproductive history than ever before in her life. She shouldn’t be alone, because Jake should be there to help, answering questions for her when her voice fails and making her feel at ease by holding her hand. There shouldn't be a sense of dread lingering with her, refusing to let go. 

She’s not supposed to be here. 

This should just work. 

 There's a physical exam, which is uncomfortable, and bloodwork, which is fine. There’s a quick ultrasound, and she tries to shake the thought of how the last time she had one, she saw her then-unborn daughter wiggle around on the screen. There are information-heavy brochures on everything from a list of procedures to financing and insurance coverage, a quick run-through of the tests Jake needs to have at his appointment the next day, and then, it’s finally over and Amy leaves feeling yet more confused than before.

 It can take some time for the bloodwork results to come in, she’s informed. At first, she tries to avoid thinking about it, utilizing every accessible distraction to stay sane. She starts preparing an extra slideshow about community engagement for the precinct, takes Leah to a bonus Mommy-and-Me art class which ends in a lot of laughter and a long bath for both of them, and starts binging a new TV show together with Jake in the evenings. She even tries experimenting in the kitchen to make time pass, but after accidentally setting off the fire alarm at 7 a.m. on a Saturday and waking up all her family plus two bitter next-door neighbors, she gives up. 

  - 

  Three days pass. A voice in the back of her head begins to whisper that if everything looked good, surely they should have gotten back to you by now, and she lays awake staring at the ceiling for most of the night.

Five days pass. She googles the costs of fertility treatments on her phone during her lunch break, doing the math first in her head and then with a calculator on a pastel pink post-it note. Jake asks her what she’s writing when he stops by her desk in the afternoon, and she quickly stows away the note in a drawer and tells him it’s nothing. 

Eight days pass. They clean out Leah’s dresser from clothes she’s growing out of, and Amy places at least fifteen items she’s previously wanted to use for another child in the donation pile before Jake stops her. 

Ten days pass. At this point, Amy’s certain something is wrong with her, anxious to get the bad news over with. She checks her phone a million times and hovers with her thumb over the clinic’s number for the entire day, but there’s nothing.

On day eleven, she gets a call. 

 She's in the car, having parked in the precinct’s garage with five minutes to spare when the melodic signal sounds from her pocket and every muscle in her body tenses, every other thought dissipating in an instant when she brings the phone to her ear.

“Amy Santiago.”

“Amy, hi. I hope I’m not interrupting anything - do you have time to talk?” Dr. Thompson sounds upbeat and chattery on the phone, and Amy finds it provoking. She's already prepared for the worst, and cheeriness has no meaning when all she wants to do is to rip off the band-aid. 

“It's fine,” she says, glancing at the panel board’s digital clock. “Thanks. Did the results come back?”

“Yes, yes,” Dr. Thompson rambles, and Amy's stomach twists. “I have your blood work results. Everything else looked good, but your AMH level is a bit lower than I’d like to see it in your age group.”

“My AMH level.” She knows she’s stumbled across the word while googling, but the definition slips her mind.

“It’s a hormone that gives a reflection of your ovarian reserve, so roughly how many eggs you have left,” Dr. Thompson explains, talking slower. “The results look like yours is diminished.”

 There’s the familiar, panicked feeling she’s felt so many times in her life - like someone is tying a rope around her lungs and pulling it. Amy has to keep forcing air in and out of her mouth, telling herself she can’t panic, not yet.

“How low are they?” She asks, and Dr. Thompson tells her two decimal numbers before explaining further. 

“It’s not catastrophic, by any means. You could still get pregnant. You should be aware, though, that a lower ovarian reserve is usually connected to fewer high-quality eggs, so it might be difficult for you on your own.”

The corners of her field of vision are getting blurry, and she closes her eyes to try and focus. Her voice sounds enfeebled in comparison to the doctor’s clear articulation, but she has more questions. 

“Is it anything I’ve done? Is there anything I can do?”

“I would believe it’s random. Your ovarian reserve does get lower with age, but for some, it happens a bit earlier than it should. As for what you can do…” There’s a sigh on the other end of the phone, and Dr. Thompson’s tone changes to a graver one that sends a chill down Amy’s spine. “Time is of the essence here. Unfortunately, once this decline sets in, it’ll continue. If you want to get pregnant, I would recommend you start treatment immediately to have the best chances.”

“Do you mean IVF?”

“I believe it could be your best option, yes. Is it something you’ve had time to discuss with your husband?”

“Uhm - no.” She twists the silver wedding band on her left fourth finger, one way and then the other. “ Could we - could you give us some time to decide?”

“Of course.” The cheerful tone returns. “Actually, I would like to see you again in two days to go over this more closely in person and do another ultrasound. Perhaps you could let me know then what you’ve decided and we could discuss how to move forward?”

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Perfect, then. Take care,” Dr. Thompson chirps, and Amy knows she should return the polite wish, but it’s all she can do to press the red circle and put her phone in her lap before the panic attack hits her full force. 

 She ends up working from home that day. 

Working is a half-truth at best; she does the bare minimum, then spends the rest of the day laying on the bed with the lights turned off and googling feverishly, trying to find out all the information until the medical terms and her anxiety medication makes her dizzy. Jake texts her once an hour to ask if she's okay, if she's sure he shouldn't leave and go take care of her if she's feeling sick, but she waves him off decisively, telling him she's just tired.

Tonight, she'll have to face reality and tell him, but for a few hours, she can lay unmoving in the darkness of their bedroom and pretend none of this is happening. 

She doesn't want it to be. She wants her body to do its thing, get pregnant quickly and naturally and bless her with another beautiful child like it's done masterfully once before. She doesn't want it to be shutting down, doesn't want needles, medications or expensive treatments in order to have a baby. She doesn't want this.

Still, the more she researches, the more it stands clear it's her best option. 

She gets her notebook to go over the costs and insurance options another time. 

 - 

 Jake must truly have been worried about her, because he offers to both cook dinner and clean up the kitchen by himself. Amy puts Leah to bed, feeling less heartbroken when the toddler chuckles heartily at the nighttime stories they’re reading and falls asleep clutching the beloved stuffed lion. She stays for a few minutes after Leah drifts off, sitting on the carpet wondering if anything on Earth looks more peaceful than a sleeping child, and leaves first when she feels tears threatening to form at the thought of whether she’ll ever get to hold her own sleeping newborn again. 

She has to talk to Jake.

 She finds him standing at the kitchen sink, cursing violently over how impossible it is to remove burnt rice from a pot. She kisses his cheek and tells him to let it soak in soapy water for a while, and he grumbles something about wanting everything done so they can focus on relaxing for the rest of the night, getting a chance to watch Jeopardy! and snuggle without anything to stress them out. She has to close her eyes and clench her fists before saying the words she’s been avoiding the entire day - the words to make it all real. 

“I got a call back from the fertility doctor today.”

“Uh-huh.” His tone is unsuspecting, but he raises his eyebrows when he sees her tight-lipped expression. “What did they say?”

“I think we need to talk.”

“Oh.”

 She sits down as she goes through what was said in the call, staring at the dark wood of their dining table when she can’t make herself look right at him. She goes through each point, patiently replying when he asks for clarification and telling him about the research she’s done, what conclusions she’s drawn about their best options. He nods slowly as she speaks, and though Amy considers herself a master at interpreting Jake Peralta’s facial expressions after nearly eight years in a relationship with him, he’s unreadable to her at this moment. 

 “So…” She’s braiding her fingers again, trying to keep her hands occupied with something other than picking at the skin of her fingers until they bleed. It’s already happened once today. “Long story short, they want to know if we’re doing IVF or not. And they want to know in two days.”

“Okay.” Jake sighs. “Well… we’re not, are we?”

She looks up at him. “What do you mean? Of course we are.”

He blinks. “We are?”

“Yeah?” She scrunches her forehead, and he gives her a look she recognizes from hundreds of interrogations when a witness has said something unexpected and he’s calculating whether or not he thinks they’re telling the truth. “We have to do IVF. It’s my best chance to pregnant. Our best chance to have a baby.”

“Do we have to, really? They said you could get pregnant naturally. You mentioned those supplements?”

“IVF is likelier by far. It’s the best option.”

 He opens his mouth as if he’s on his way to say something, then closes it, turning around and starting to scrub at the rice-stained pot again. 

“Look, I don’t love it either.” Her voice is sterner now. “I’m not exactly hyped about shooting hormones into my stomach with needles, but it’s our best shot. What’s the issue?”

“The needles you mentioned? The money we don’t have unlimited resources of? The time we have even less of?”

“We’d solve those things! I’m a lieutenant, insurance could pay for a couple of cycles - I already looked everything up. ”

“Of course you did,” he says, but it’s not with his usual fondness - he’s shorter, almost colder when he speaks. “Fine. But it might not even work, you know?”

“It’s at least more likely to!” She notices herself raising her voice, and tries to adjust it, thinking of their daughter sleeping a closed door away. Leah can’t wake up to this - Amy might never forgive herself if it happened, and she knows for certain Jake wouldn’t. 

“More likely isn’t a guarantee.”

“What’s the point you’re trying to make here, Peralta?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, letting go of the dish-brush and pot and giving her a tired look. “IVF is such a process. It’s a huge deal.”

“So exactly like having a kid, then.”

“It’s more than that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

 Jake puts his elbows on the counter, running his hands through his hair with a sigh. 

“Just… if we’re going to go through a whole medical process to put another human on this world when we’ve already done it once, I feel like you have to be so confident you want to? You can’t have a single doubt. I watched Charles and Genevieve try to do it before they adopted Nikolaj, you remember?” She nods. “It always seemed so freaking tough to me. Like, if you’re going to do that, you have to be willing to give it your everything.”

“And you’re not?”

“I… I don’t know, Ames. I’m sorry.”

 He’s throwing unexpected, verbal bricks at her. She’s never known how to react when his opinions oppose what she believed they would be, she gets defensive by instinct, and he won’t ever let her forget the time she turned to an honest modified Lincoln-Douglas debate. They both know they can’t do that now - with time and experience, casual and loving conversations have grown a much-preferred method for dealing with opposing opinions - although Amy can’t deny her current temptation to rig up two debate stands in their living room. 

It feels like an ironic repeat of the fight they had back then, yet it’s new. It’s common and uncommon ground all at once, history and present day. 

She’s started picking at the skin of her right thumb again, scraping at it with her index finger. Jake’s watching her with worried eyes, but he doesn’t stop her.

 “Are you saying you don’t want to have a second child?” It’s a poisonous question, she knows, but asks it anyway.

“I don’t mean it like that,” he mumbles, and his feigned nonchalance provokes her. 

“Then what the fuck,” she says, putting emphasis on the expletive, “do you mean?”

“I mean that if you came with a positive pregnancy test right here, tonight, then I’d be one hundred percent in. I’d be ready. I’d be over the freaking moon, and so excited to love another baby the way I already know I can love one.”

“So what you’re saying is if I could simply get pregnant, you’d be up for it,” she sneers, scorching frustration flooding her as she interprets his poorly articulated sentiment. “Cool. Well, newsflash, it’s what I wish, too! But clearly, I can’t.”

“That’s not what I’m saying -” Jake groans. His cheeks are flushed scarlet as he fights to find his words, but she can’t bring herself to feel an ounce of sympathy for him. “I just don’t know how to feel about us having to pay a bunch of money, do an advanced medical treatment and be stressed out thanks to it, if there’s still a risk it won’t work. It feels wrong to me, Ames. I would love another baby so much, but I don’t know how to justify prioritizing it over Leah, or us, or focusing on the family we already are.”

There’s a rational part of her head somewhere telling her to calm down, not to put words in his mouth like a self-fulfilling prophecy, but that rational part is getting increasingly quiet for each sentence they exchange. She finds herself glaring at him instead, the man she loves most who can’t seem to understand her sometimes, can’t seem to understand how much this is breaking her or how she can’t give up this dream without ensuring they’ve tried it all. 

Something breaks when he mentions Leah. The implication, the mere suggestion this would be more important than the child she’d go through hell and back to keep safe and happy, is like a seething spear piercing through her, ripping a tear in a shield she thought was impenetrable. It sets off something instinctive, more than defensive, something that’s been part of her since the first time she felt her daughter move inside her.

 “Are you trying to say I love my daughter less because I want another baby?” She spits out the words.

“No! Oh my god, no, I swear I’m not.” Jake looks shaken, blinking a few times like he’s not sure what’s happening. “All I want is for you to be okay, and this is clearly stressing you out like crazy, I don’t want it to get worse.”

“Yeah, I wonder why that is. It’s not like my reproductive system is trying to shut down several years in advance, or something. Who’d ever be stressed about that?”

“Ames.”

“I don’t want to hear it. I really, really, don’t want to hear it.”

 She knows it’s a bad idea. The right choice would probably be to stay right here and have a calm and collected conversation to work out their respective issues with the decision they’re facing, but instead, the instinct that she needs to get away overpowers her rational thinking. She stands up without pushing in the chair, quickly grabbing her phone and keys, and before Jake has time to ask what she’s doing, she declares it. 

“I’m leaving.”

“What?”

“I need to be alone for a moment. Don’t follow me. Please.”

“Wait, what the hell?” He scrunches his forehead.  “Obviously I can’t. Will you be back?”

She sighs. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Amy… don’t do anything stupid!”

 It may be an insignificant detail in the sea of irrational actions she’s taking, but at least, Amy feels a sense of pride that she doesn’t slam the door on her way out.

 -

 Even in their Brooklyn neighborhood, she expected fewer people to be out at this time - it’s late, or so she thinks. A quick glance at her wristwatch tells her it’s not even nine p.m. yet. It felt like she spent years inside their apartment, dealing and worrying and last but not least fighting with the one person she most hates fighting with, but for the outside world, it's a normal Wednesday evening. She's jealous of them.

 She walks slowly - too slowly to be in Brooklyn - and stops when she reaches the small park near their house. There are no kids left here at this time, only a group of teenagers hanging out over on the swings and smoking. Amy sits down on a bench a safe distance away from them, thinking that right now, it's a shame she stopped smoking. She could have needed a cigarette, but even the nicotine patches are but a memory after she quit cold turkey during her first pregnancy.

She puts her head in her hands instead, inhaling and exhaling in and out in an imagined square until her breathing stabilizes.

 She shouldn't have left, she knows. It's an unfair and immature decision beneath her usual professional ways, cold-hearted and mean towards Jake and even towards Leah, but she couldn't imagine staying and pretending what he was saying didn't affect her. Somewhere deep inside, she understands his skepticism, but she's not sure he understands her desperation or the helpless feeling of knowing her body is working against her. That helplessness overpowers all her hesitation. She's never been one to give up on dreams easily, and definitely not before giving her everything and exhausting every last option. Jake knows that about her. He should understand.

 She picks up her phone, surprised when the only text she sees is a single I'm sorry. She ignores it, going into her contacts instead and calling another one of her most used numbers.

 Rosa picks up on the second signal. 

“Amy?”

“Hey, Rosa.” She tries to keep a normal tone, but her voice ends up wavering anyway. 

“What’s happening?”

“Can I come over? Watch a Nancy Meyers-movie and drink tequila?” It’s their years-old routine, established during the god-awful six months they both had their partners in witness protection and each other as trusted confidantes. It’s been a long time since they last arranged one, but if she’s ever needed one since, it’s tonight.

There’s the sound of someone moving at the other end of the phone, a mumbled apology before the background noise disappears. “Why?”

“Jake and I had a fight,” she mumbles, wondering why things feel so much more real once you say them out loud.

“Okay.”

“I left.”

“Uh-huh. Wait,” Rosa stops her, suddenly halting. “You left? Like, straight-up walked out? What the hell? Did he do something?”

“No, no - oh my god, Rosa, it’s Jake.”

“Then why’d you leave?” 

“We disagreed on a thing.” Rosa hums, urging her to continue. “I don’t think he sees my perspective. Or understands it.”

“Santiago,” Rosa sighs, and Amy can tell there’s serious advice coming.  “Look, I’m not going to tell you how to solve your fights, but - this is you and Jake. Sure, you don't always agree on everything, but that man loves you so much it’s nauseating, okay?”

“I guess. I mean, I know.” 

“Like, you two have a freaking toddler, which should be the death of all romance, and somehow you’re still sickening.” Rosa says the last words with a bit of a groan. “If I were you, I’d go home and try to explain my point. Calmly.”

Amy snorts. “Since when have you encouraged people to solve a fight calmly? I thought insults or threats were your style.”

“I said if I were you, not me. Amy, just hear him out. Have a proper conversation with him, and explain your side of… whatever you guys are fighting about. If you’re still mad after, you can come over.” 

“Okay,” she whispers, secretly relieved someone else made the decision for her. “Thanks, Rosa.”

 “Anytime,” her friend replies, and then grunts. “No, nevermind, not anytime. I’m not your relationship coach. But sure, you’re welcome, I guess.” She makes another noise of discomfort. “Text me an update.”

“I will. Thank you.”

 Rosa hangs up on her, and Amy balances her phone in her hand. There are no more texts. Jake’s giving her time, she guesses, letting her cool off like he’s learned to do the few times in their relationship when squabbles and bickering have turned to actual disputes. 

She’s barely been outside for twenty minutes, but the bad conscience is kicking in hard, especially after Rosa’s advice. She needs to explain her side in a calm and collected manner, and they need to decide how to move forward, together. As much as she wants to take full control of the situation and put her body through whatever it takes, as desperate as she is to know they're doing something, it's a decision she can't make alone - because she isn’t alone.

She may be frustrated and disappointed and a little bit scared, but she's not alone.

She texts him she’ll be back in 10 before she starts walking. When he doesn't reply, she walks faster. 

  -

  The first thing she notes upon returning is the episode of Doctor McStuffins playing on their television. She could recognize those melodies and the exaggerated upbeat enthusiasm of all characters’ voices anywhere, and for a fleeting moment, she wonders why Jake would be watching the hysterical children's show on his own before she realises he's half-laying on the couch with a seemingly asleep Leah in his arms. Their daughter is wrapped in her duvet like a burrito, her face slightly red like she’s been crying, and Amy’s bad conscience gets impossibly worse.

“You came back,” Jake notes, and she can read the relief on his face. 

“Yeah. I texted you.”

“My phone is in the kitchen,” he explains, pointing to Leah. “This one woke up five minutes after you left. Screaming and crying like crazy and could barely talk. Nightmare, I think? Anyway, it was heartbreaking.”

“Oh, baby.” Amy sits down next to them, stroking Leah's back through the duvet. “I'm sorry I wasn't there.”

“It’s fine, she didn't notice.”

“I meant I'm sorry I left.”

He looks away. “It's okay.”

“It isn’t,” she assures him, and he gives her a small shrug. “I should have stayed and explained it better.”

“Well, yeah.” He looks back at her with a careful smile. “But I’m sorry, too. I know it’s not the same for me.”

“It’s not your body it’s happening to.”

“No. No, it’s not.”

 Leah whimpers in her sleep, and Amy scoots closer on instinct, kissing the top of her daughter’s head. The child makes a new, softer, noise at that, leaning towards her.

“Do you want to hold her?” Jake whispers, and she nods. “I haven’t moved my legs in forever - thanks.”

Their daughter blinks a few times as he lifts her to Amy’s lap instead, opening her eyes for a second, but then she closes them again and rests her head on Amy’s chest. 

Amy finds herself guilty of doing the same thing she used to find other parents weird for raving about, burying her nose in Leah’s newly washed hair and sniffing the top of her head, but it stands true - nothing smells better than your own baby, not even when they’re old enough to be walking and talking. These kinds of snuggles aren’t a daily occurrence anymore, and she fears the day they’ll be non-existent. She knows how precious the time with a newborn is, and although she’s itching with excitement for every experience to come, she can’t make herself accept the thought of those days being gone forever. Not yet.

 Jake’s hand is playing with Leah’s hair, twirling the subtle curls around his fingers and softly massaging her neck. They’re both so focused on their daughter, Amy’s taken aback when he asks her a question.

“Are you totally, totally sure you want to do IVF?”

“Yeah,” she admits, not a moment’s hesitation. “I know it’s tough, but… I want this so bad. I need to feel like I have some form of control over the situation - I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t try everything.”

Jake nods slowly, moving one hand to intertwine with hers, and she thinks she can feel the tension between them fade with his touch. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. If you’re willing to go through that, if you think it’s worth it for you, we’ll do it.”

 Part of the weight is lifted off of her shoulders like a block of granite, but a few doubts linger.

“I thought you weren’t sure if you wanted another kid,” she remarks, thinking of his comments of I don’t know how to justify prioritizing that, but he shakes his head.

“I’d have all the kids if they’re yours.” He presses a kiss to the nape of Leah’s neck. “It’s not about that. I would love another kid so, so much.”

“So what is it about?”

Jake grimaces. “I’m scared of the process, Ames. I heard way too much about it when Charles and Genevieve were trying, and it took up their whole life and relationship for so long. I love our life as it is. I’m… scared it’d break us, I guess.”

“I know. But I think if I always wanted another kid, if I knew we could have done more and we didn’t try - that would break us, too. It would break me, at least.”

He nods again, squeezing her hand tight and lifting it, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “We’ll make sure it doesn't happen, then.”

 She smiles wide, and without a word, Jake snuggles into her side when she moves to make space, head resting on her shoulder and legs crossed over hers. The three of them are a warm, intimate family cocoon, and Amy thinks that if there’s anything better than watching Jake trace faint circles with his fingers on Leah's upper back, making the child smile in her sleep, it's that he manages to press soft kisses to her own neck at the same time. She has half a mind to compliment him on the multi-tasking, but she's too relaxed to speak.

 The kisses stop when he asks her another question, and her eyes reluctantly flutter open.

“Are you sure we can afford it, though?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not optimal.” She thinks of her beating heart when she wrote down the numbers, trying to work out how much their insurance could cover.”But we can afford a couple attempts before reevaluating.”

“We’ll get it in the first.”

“Maybe,” she mumbles, hesitant. “You forget this stupid body wants to shut down now. Or, well, its reproductive system.”

He looks up at her with a pained expression, shaking his head. “Please stop talking about it like that.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” he says, and part of her knows he’s right, she shouldn’t be talking about it that way, but another part feels too betrayed by her body to care, so she shrugs. “I’m sorry I made it sound like you would prioritize this over Leah, by the way. Not fair.”

“No, it wasn’t. You know it’s not about that.”

“I do. I’m sorry.” 

Amy nods, squeezing his hand. She can feel her eyelids getting heavier, the day’s exhaustion returning at full force, and she lets out a wide yawn. It's been a long day, to say the least, and all she wants is to close her eyes and go to sleep in this safe haven with her daughter snuggling on her chest and her husband resting his head on her shoulder. The two of them together are a million times better than any heated or weighted blanket, and having them both there is making her anxiety finally, finally ease up for a while.

 “I’m coming with you to the next appointment, so you know. And all the other ones.” Jake’s voice is a warm whisper close to her ear when he speaks again, and she hums her understanding.

“You don't have to come to everything.”

“I'll be trying to,” he assures her. “I’m sorry for being so questioning about it. I just hate seeing you suffer, and this whole thing has already been getting you so down. I guess I'm scared IVF would make that worse if it didn't work out.”

“It might,” she admits. “But I don’t want to keep going like this, either. It’s too frustrating. I need to feel like I’m actively doing something, especially now.”

“I know. Like I said, I’m sorry I was so skeptical.”

“I’m sorry I walked out.”

“I love you.”

She cranes her head to kiss his forehead. “I love you, too.”

Leah whimpers again and stirs in Amy’s arms, regaining her parents’ full attention only to return to her previous relaxed state a short moment later.

“Should we keep her in our bed tonight? In case she has another nightmare.” Amy’s suggestion is mostly out of concern for her daughter, but a little bit out of her own unwillingness for the treasured cuddles to come to an end.

“One condition,” Jake grins. “When we have another baby, we’re getting a huge bed.”

For the first time that day, she laughs. “Deal.”

 ~

[lilhemmo]

i’ll risk it

send me two au’s from this list + a ship/character

a/n: not sure how i feel about this? but feel free to request more! 

You’ve been a teacher at Riverdale Elementary for six years now.

It was easy, once you heard about the Southside school system shutting down, you knew you had to help. You were working at Ronnie’s, living off your dead parent’s trust fund money while you went out to find yourself, or something like that. But, it all changed the day that news spread aired.

You volunteer, you serve, you teach, you do a little bit of everything. You tutor for the math club, you help with the chess team, and you even help coach the girls’ softball team.

And every time, when the Winter Solstice Dance rolls around, you’re first in line to volunteer as chaperone.

It’s adorable to see children ten and under dress up in poufy ball gowns and tiny tuxedos complete with a bow tie. You don’t mind service fruit punch and peanut butter sandwiches cut into snowmen because you get to watch little girls giggle and little boys blush.

Also, Sweet Pea is always on the chaperone list too.

You’ve spoken to him sparingly, when he comes to the school to volunteer or when you bump into one another in the hallways. He’s recently become more involved, and you’re wondering if it has to do with the seven year-old boy he’s escorting to the restroom.

Toni Topaz teaches second grade and she swears that Sweet Pea is single. Betty Cooper, an office administrator and part-time English teacher tells you in passing that he’s got a thing for you. Even Vice Principal Lodge swears that Sweet Pea lingers in the halls when he’s picking up who you presume to be his child, waiting to see if you’ll emerge from your classroom.

It’s not your fault that you haven’t approached him yet. He’s tall and muscular, and a little scary with the snake tattoo spread across his neck. On the other hand, he’s really handsome and you’ve never heard him raise his voice or cop an attitude with his kid when they’re late to the pick-up line or forget something in their classroom and he has to park the car and wait for him to come back.

Again, kind of scary, but in a handsome way, and unapproachable to the max. It’s not your fault you don’t speak to him; nobody does.

And then it feels like the universe is laughing at you when a certain tall, muscular, handsome-in-a-scary-way man bumps into you at the punch bowl.

Apologies flow from both of your lips and you straighten your dress before looking him in the eyes, “I am so sorry. I wasn’t even paying attention.”

“Well,” he chuckles, trying to right himself and keep the blush off his cheeks, “I don’t think most of the other guests here tonight would have bulldozed you over. I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met?”

You shake your head and offer him your hand, “No, uh, we haven’t. I teach kindergarten, it looks like your boy is a bit older than that.”

You exchange names and then he does a double-take, “I-I’m sorry. My boy?”

“Yes, your son,” you supply, gesturing to the short, dark-haired seven year-old across the dance floor. He’s currently trying to convince an eight year-old that he doesn’t have two left feet. “He’s cute. I’ve seen him in the halls a couple of times, and only heard the best reports from his teachers. You’ve raised him really well.”

Sweet Pea’s face goes bright red and you’re afraid you’ve overstepped. You bumble through a few apologies, reaching out to press your fingertips to his forearms. “I’m so sorry. Again. It’s not my place to talk about your son like that.”

“No, it’s fine.” Sweet Pea covers your palm with his own, sending a bolt of lightning through your bones. “It’s just, that, well – he’s not my kid. He’s my nephew.”

You’re speechless now, only because more apologizing seems like it would be nothing short of annoying. You roll your lips and try to come up with something to say, but end up empty-handed. You shake your head and try your best to look him in the eye, craning your neck skyward.

“My fault for assuming,” you nod.

Sweet Pea manages a smile, retracting his hand after realizing he was still touching you. “It’s okay. Fogarty is in the military, so he’s gone for long periods of time. His wife died in childbirth, so I take shifts of helping the kid get where he needs to go, and giving him a place to sleep.”

The universe is howling in laughter at you right now.

You lick your lips, “That’s rather noble of you, I think. I’m sorry to hear about his mother.”

He smiles, crossing his arms over his chest. When he speaks, it sounds smoother than before, like honey rolling off his tongue, “We’re Serpents, we band together when things go south. We’re a family.”

“Sounds exactly like something he would need in a time like this,” you supply, noting the way that his eyes track your every movement. “We really appreciate your help chaperoning. The PTO board can’t ever get enough volunteers, and most teachers would rather be anywhere else other than spending more time at school.”

Sweet Pea reaches out and touches your shoulder with his hand, opening his mouth to speak, but interrupted by a tiny pair of hands yanking on his jeans.

He raises a brow and looks down at the boy you thought thirty minutes ago was his own flesh and blood, “Hey, Charlie. What’s up?”

“I’m ready to go home,” he whispers, trying his best not to let you hear.

You chuckle and take a step away so he feels more comfortable talking to Sweet Pea without you overhearing. Sweet Pea ruffles Charlie’s hair and nods, “Sure, kiddo. We can go whenever you’re ready.”

He stands to his full height once more and you’re overwhelmed by his stature. You look up at him, admiring his height and muscle. Sweet Pea catches you staring and a smirk graces his full lips, forcing a pink blush onto your cheeks. He reaches out and circles your wrist with a gentle touch, “I’ll see you next time?”

“Next time,” you echo, forcing the words from between your teeth.

Charlie tugs on his arm one more time, and you swear you don’t watch him every second until he walks out the gymnasium doors.

--

Betty and Toni show up at your doorstep the first night of Spring Break, and you swear you want to punch both of them in the face.

“How do you guys even have any energy?” you whine as they toss you around your bedroom, throwing clothes at you that you didn’t even think you had. You catch a sparkly shirt and throw it on, knowing that you’ll either do it willingly, or they’ll force it onto you.

“Listen, ever since the Southside has been shut down, the Wyrm has been operating secretly – only the true Southsiders know that it’s up and running. We’re going to go out!” Toni bites her lip as she takes in your appearance.

“And what if I see parents there?” you ask, raising a brow.

Betty smirks, “Well, just means that you saw them too.”

And just like that, they’ve got you tossed in the back of Toni’s truck and on the way to The Wyrm.

It’s been ages since you’ve been to the Wyrm. Life just got too hectic and you became too busy with school planning and grading to even have a social life.

It smells the same as always when you three crack the wood doors open – like cheap beer and disappointment.

Betty claims a pool table while Toni grabs your first drink order of the night. It’s easy, falling into step like this with your girl friends. Honestly, you’ve missed having a life.

You’re definitely not tipsy enough when a group of three guys approaches the table, all wearing smirks and mischievous expressions.

Toni laughs, “Oh, Jones, what’s the big deal?”

“Fogarty, Pea, and I just wanted a quick game, is all.” The one you recognize as Jughead Jones saunters around the table to take a spot beside Betty. You blink, trying to remember where you’ve heard the name Fogarty before.

A hand presses to your shoulder and you look up to meet the hazel eyes of none other than Sweet Pea.

“Wow, hey,” you muster, a grin tugging on the corners of your mouth. You set you drink down on a coaster and pull him in for a hug, praying that it’s not too weird and that he’ll just go along with it. He does, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and squeezing you tight enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“We’ll team up,” the only one left, Fogarty, says as he bridles up next to Toni. She rolls her eyes but sends him a wink, “You picked the winning team, Fangs. Let’s get another round of drinks before we crush the competition.”

The pair walk towards the bar, engulfed in conversation, effectively leaving you practically alone with Sweet Pea, given that Betty and Jughead are knee deep in staring into one another’s eyes.

“So,” he starts, leaning against the pool table. His plaid shirt hands off his shoulders nicely, tight around his biceps and wide around the collar, exposing his collarbones. “I guess now is the time to tell you that I’m the reigning champ of pool, and if you screw this up for me, I will never live it down.”

You roll your eyes and swallow the thick lump in your throat, trying your hardest to appear cool despite the utter fear that has settled into your bones, “Well, then I should let you know that I’m practically a beast with a pool stick, so you have nothing to worry about.”

He bites his lip before looking you in the eye, a smirk playing on his mouth. He grabs the chalk and brushes it against the tip of the pool stick, dark eyes never leaving your face.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he answers in a deep voice, tossing you the chalk as he racks the pool balls.

Jughead throws the first game and Fangs throws the second, leaving you and Sweet Pea in first place two games in a row. Toni has been practically wasted for at least an hour, and Betty has been making bedroom eyes at Jughead since the third round of shots arrived.

“Ride home?” Sweet Pea offers, watching as Fangs exits with Toni, and Jughead stalks away with his arm around Betty’s waist.

You nod, chuckling, “Yeah, I guess so. My ride ditched me.”

“Yeah, Topaz isn’t always the best at paying attention,” Sweet Pea laughs. He helps you clean up your nearby table, stacking dishes and putting away the pool table equipment. You shrug, “I don’t mind. Usually I just Uber home.”

Sweet Pea guides you with his hand on your lower back, effectively pouring metaphoric hot lava down your spine. You force yourself to hold in a shiver due to nerves alone as he holds the door open for you and walks you to his motorcycle. It’s a short walk, and yet it feels like you’ve been running a marathon with the way your heart is beating and your breath is leaving your lungs.

As if the universe is still laughing at you, when Sweet Pea revs his motorcycle, you squeak and tighten your arms around his waist. He laughs, and you can’t bear to look at him so you just bury your helmet-covered head in between his shoulder blades and don’t move until the motorcycle has stopped in front of your house.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he speaks up as he juts his heel into the kickstand.

You shake your head, pulling the helmet off and cradling it in your hands, “No, it’s fine. My head is in the clouds, it feels like. I haven’t been up this late in so long, it’s pathetic.”

“I get what you mean,” he answers, stepping off the motorcycle. Sweet Pea reaches out and helps you down with his hands on your waist. “I’ve had Charlie the past couple of weeks, Fangs just got back from a couple weeks away, and the kid is having a hard time the older he gets with his dad being gone.”

You step closer on reflex, with his hands on your waist, “I couldn’t imagine…that must be so hard.”

“No kidding,” Sweet Pea chuckles. He reaches up with one hand to rub the back of his neck and you’re not sure if it’s the remaining buzz talking to you, or the night air that settles like a balm on your skin, but you reach up and tuck a stray curl behind his ear.

The moment your fingerprint presses against his skin, his irises connect with yours and a quiet falls over the two of you.

Before you can retract your palm from his face, Sweet Pea circles his fingers around your wrist to hold you still. His gaze is intense and his touch is hot; you’re not sure where this is going or if you even want to get there. All you do know is that his skin is soft and his lips look really full and your heart is running rampant in your chest.

Sweet Pea takes your hesitation to mean that you don’t want him to advance, and so he steps back and starts apologizing for being too forward. Before you can think too far into it, you push yourself up on your toes and press a quick kiss to his lips.

As you settle back down to the soles of your shoes in the gravel of the front yard, you feel a certain weight of fear settle in your stomach. You barely have time to breathe before you’re swept up into his arms and cradled against his body as he walks towards your front door. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck and hold on tightly to his shoulders as he walks up the steps and fumbles through the bag on your hip for your keys.

Sweet Pea sets you down on the nearest countertop, his hips never straying far from your own. He hooks his hands around your thighs as he looks up at you, trying to figure you out as you bite your lip and stare down at him.

“How long?” he asks simply, breaking the silence.

You cock your head to the side and he repeats the question, but now you’ve pulled yourself far enough out of your haze that you can process his question.

“Seven months, I think,” you answer. “I noticed you probably three years ago, but wasn’t sure until the start of this school year when I saw you at Orientation.”

He smirks and dips his head to your collarbone, eyelashes fluttering against the sensitive skin of your neck. Your breath hitches and you instinctively clutch your knees tighter around his waist.

Sweet Pea’s voice is gentle as it echoes against the shell of your ear, “I think mine has been close to two years. Saw you with Topaz and knew that you were good people if she was hanging around you.”

You can’t hide the surprise in your voice when you confirm that he said two years by echoing the words back to him. He chuckles and tilts his head back so he can look you in the eyes, “Pathetic, I know.”

“No, what’s pathetic is that for the past three years, I’ve wanted you to ask me to dance.”

He pulls away to tug you down from the counter, “Well, I finally have the guts to ask you.”

Somehow he manages to get the perfect song playing on his phone as he gathers you up in his arms, one palm on your waist and the other threaded through your own fingers. He sways with you, your bodies pressed to one another as the song progresses.

“Doubt this would have been appropriate at a children’s dance,” you murmur, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to become enamored with the warmth of his body.

Sweet Pea nudges his nose against your temple, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He cranes his neck and you feel the start of a breath against your lips, but you push yourself upward and meet him halfway in a surge. You wrap your arms around his neck and your teeth bump as your kiss hastens.

He chuckles against your lips, “Yeah, technically boys have cooties.”

“I’ll risk it,” you whisper, slotting your mouth to his before he can interrupt you again.

-

a/n: let me know what you think!

[rpgmgames]

May’s Featured Game: Cadeau

DEVELOPER(S): HALFWORLDstudios ENGINE: RPG Maker VX Ace GENRE: Horror, Fantasy, Puzzle WARNINGS: Blood, Mild Gore, Suicide Mentions, Death SUMMARY: Cadeau is an RPG Horror game about a lonely, yet stubborn, young woman named Charlotte-- who finds herself in a world unknown to man, wearing clothes that do not belong to her. Wonderful and tragic events are to follow suit, as all of her greatest wishes come true. However, as these things often go, her happiness does not come without consequence...

Play the beta here!

Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Introduce yourself! Macdev: Greetings and salutations. I'm Mac, writer, artist, and programmer for Cadeau, as well as the founder of Halfworld. I've loved Rpg games since I was about 10, and have been creating them since! Bruno: My name is Bruno and I'm the music composer. I got into game music approx 2 years ago and I've currently made music for a couple of games and other projects, and Cadeau was the first one of them. Aidan: I'm Aidan/kanteramcneil on Tumblr! I'm one of the voice actors, and I'm super excited to be able to follow Cadeau's progress! I've been in the RpgMaker community for a few years now and I adore being able to watch all the devs progress and grow Rindre: Hi I'm Rin! Currently, I'm on an indefinite hiatus, but Big Mac managed to catch me, chain me up to a chair, and make me say stuff about myself against my will. So... I make games, I guess. - Note from macdev: Erm, not true? These accusations are SLANDER and I will not stand for it. WariA: Hello! I’m WaraiA, one of the voice actors of Cadeau — A pleasure to meet you! I will be voicing the oh so mysterious ‘Your Admirer’, so please look forward to listening to my antics ☆〜（ゝ。∂） I am a Japanese/Chinese Australian born citizen, with a tendency to speak in an American accent. Any pronouns are fine for me My most notable role so far has been Harpae from Pocket Mirror, so some of you may be familiar with my voice already! Nothing much has changed — I enjoy cosplaying, role playing, drawing every once in a blue moon, Final Fantasy XIV, and most importantly, catboys (Nael, I’m coming for you, boy) As ‘Your Admirer’ is a rather elusive character, I cannot disclose much. But I do suggest always keeping one eye open throughout your journey

What is your project about? What inspired you to create your game initially? *Macdev: Cadeau is a game about a troubled young woman named Charlotte Émile-- who is a "tomboyish" and bold individual who has been unfortunately presented loneliness by a series of disastrous events. After giving up on companionship, she miraculously receives an affectionate letter from a mysterious person aliased as her "Admirer". This "Admirer" character beckons poor Charlotte to visit them at a mysterious well in the woods, and to come armed with nothing but a strange golden coin. From there, madness ensues. Our protagonist must learn of her past and the events that lead to her misfortune, all while becoming entangled in a family drama rooted in witchcraft, raging years before her unexpected arrival. It is a story about self-love, friendship, acceptance, magic, and all that corny-ness. Sounds fun, right? My initial inspiration was The Witches House. The game was originally meant to be simple, and maybe an hour or 45 minutes long. A simple story, and a straightforward 2-ending path.... How have we managed to get here from that?

How long did you work on your project? *Macdev: Two years, I believe! Its anniversary is April 8th. In the beginning, it was very off and on-- because I was having a difficult time with school and-- as I mention-- organization. So not a whole lot of progress was made then. I'm proud to say I've been chugging quite a bit faster than my previous pace!

Did any other games or media influence aspects of your project? *Macdev: My inspiration would probably lie in Harry Potter/Fantastic Beasts, and Alice returns to madness. As for RPG games? The Witch's House, Havenfell, and Pocket Mirror. As well as many other beautiful artists and creators in the video game community. Overall, my biggest inspiration for this game has got to be the stop-motion movie: Coraline. I even reference the movie once or twice in Cadeau. The tone of Coraline, and the whimsical yet eerie people and creatures within it give me inspiration for this game. It was very much a favorite of mine when I was younger, and that still applies today!

Have you come across any challenges during development? How have you overcome or worked around them? *Macdev: The biggest problem I've run into has been a lack of structure. In the beginning, I hadn't even written out the story halfway. I was just pulling ideas from thin air, going back and forth, and deleting entire concepts-- only to bring them back and re-arrange them as I went. Characters weren't fully dished out; the game didn't even have an ending. This state of creating is fine, but not when you have other people expecting things from you. Thankfully, things are sailing much MUCH smoother than before.

Did any aspects of your project change over time? How does your current project differ from your initial concept? *Macdev: It's absolutely taken a turn from what it was originally! As I say, it was meant to be an extremely short game in the beginning, and now obviously that’s not the case. The goal for Cadeau now is: around 2-3 hours long in playtime, and full of many diverse character types! As well as a storyline that extends far more than face value. Which is in high contrast to the basic, short, immemorable experience that it was going to be.

What was your team like at the beginning? How did people join the team? If you don’t have a team, do you wish you had one or do you prefer working alone? *Macdev: I do have a wonderful, beautiful, talented team working with me on Cadeau. - A composer! (Bruno Buglisi), - As well as voice actors! (WariA as Allete, Aiden/kanteramcneil as The Botanist, and Rindre (who I have definitely not kidnapped...) as The Maiden) I met everyone in the team through volunteer posts-- and I had never done that before-- but it worked very surprisingly well! We worked very quickly together, and we had a very mutual understanding of what each other wanted. It feels good to know I have such talented people helping this game come to fruition. I owe a whole lot to them for helping the game become what it is now.

What was the best part of developing the game? Macdev: Being able to make the world in your head interactable, for sure. Since I was 8, maybe even younger, I have loved writing stories and making art. Webcomics were my main thing as a kid, so story-telling is something I’ve always loved. So, the fact that I can turn my ideas into something someone can experience and interact with is a wonderful feeling. There's nothing more fulfilling, honestly!

Do you find yourself playing other RPG Maker games to see what you can do with the engine, or do you prefer to do your own thing? *Macdev: Very often, actually! I try not to ride too close to the material I see in other games, but I do gain lots of inspiration from my fellow creators! One thing I am laser-focused on, though, is making Cadeau quite unique content-wise. I want it to have very interesting, uncommon puzzles and mechanics that you may not expect from this type of game-- or one of this engine. So far, I think I've achieved this-- so look out for that!

Which character in your game do you relate to the most and why? (Alternatively: Who is your favorite character and why?) *Macdev: My favorite character has got to be The Botanist. At the beginning of the game he has no dialogue, yet still presents such a strong personality. They are kind, thoughtful, and absolutely adorable. Look at that foofy hair! I'm a sucker for it. Their character arc is something I'm excited for. It's been a blast writing it so far-- and I won’t spoil anything-- but you guys will love him. I'm sure of it. Now if we're talking character design, Naël has got to be my favorite. He recently received a “tune-up,” as I would like to call it, and I think everything works together very cohesively in his design now. It's probably one of my favorites out of all of them, at this point.

Looking back now, is there anything that regret/wish you had done differently? *Macdev: Thankfully, things worked out perfectly-- and the universe blessed me with a wonderful team in the end-- but it was very stressful once I realized I had asked for help way too early. I essentially made a single map, and a little character sheet-- then asked for a whole team to help me out. As I said, it luckily worked out in the end. Now we have so many amazing people helping us-- but we also lost a few in the madness-- and that's a mistake on my part, 100%. If you don't know what you want, it's hard to ask for help. It will lead to confusion, lots of back and forth, frustration, etc... Just wait until your way further in development. Trust me. I know it’s easy to jump the gun and shoot for the stars, but sometimes it won’t work out as well as it has for the Cadeau team!

Do you plan to explore the game’s universe and characters further in subsequent projects, or leave it as-is? *Macdev: I won't say as of now! The idea of a sequel/prequel has floated around, but if it does come to fruition, it won't be until way after the release of Cadeau. We'll just have to see. (This isn’t to say I’m not hopeful!)

With your current project, what do you look most forward to upon/after release? *Macdev: I have so many amazing project ideas lined up for after the release of Cadeau. I won’t spill too much, so they'll be more of a surprise-- but they range from classic, adventure-themed true RPG's-- to 3D teenage-thrillers. I'm honestly stoked, there's so much in store for Halfworld.

Is there something you’re afraid of concerning the development or the release of your game? *Macdev: I think my biggest fear is letting people down. Also, I worry about losing interest or having people form the idea that the game is never going to be completed. It’s just going to take some time, is all, and that’s okay!

Do you have any advice for upcoming devs? *Macdev: I already mentioned above not to jump the gun and ask for help too early, so some more advice I'll give: is to keep all your material, all your ideas, and all your concepts in one concise place. I would say do it digitally from the get-go, but if you would prefer to write it down physically that's fine! Just make sure it's only one or 2 notebooks, and not 13. The information for Cadeau is spread throughout my hideous mound of notebooks, as I get up during ungodly hours of the night to scrawl a sudden idea down. So, I'm currently in the process of moving them to one digital spot-- and while it's generally easy-- I would have been able to avoid it if I had just put everything in one spot in the beginning. Oh, and back up your progress regularly! I have separate backups of Cadeau from months in 2 different years, and in 4 different places. So, I take backups very seriously—and so should you!

Question from last month's featured dev @atlasatrium: What's your favorite RPG Maker game and why? *Aidan: I love End roll, Ib, OFF, Prom Dreams, From Next Door, and Aria's Story! Bruno: Mm, definitely Long Gone Days (though it’s not being made on rpgmaker now) Midnight Train, Heartbeat and Glitched! WariA: I don't really have any :0 the devs I've worked with so far have all been really sweet (´꒳`);; Macdev: This is a tough question! I have a lot of favorites. Probably Stray Cat Crossing overall, but I also love Home and Starboy. Starboy brings a lot of memories, and Stray Cat Crossing was what inspired me to start making games! Oh, and Home is just very cute.

We mods would like to thank HALFWORLDstudios for agreeing to our interview! We believe that featuring the developer and their creative process is just as important as featuring the final product. Hopefully this Q&A segment has been an entertaining and insightful experience for everyone involved!

Remember to check out Cadeau if you haven’t already! See you next month! 

- Mods Gold & Platinum

[huntertales]

I Don’t Need Saving | Chapter One.

Pairing: Superhero!Dean Winchester x Journalist!Reader 

Word Count: 6,295.

Warning: Slight mention of violence, minor character death.

Summary: To friends and family he’s known as Dean Winchester, at night he transforms into the Red Hood. The vigilante of the city beating up criminals and saving damsels from danger. Nobody has seen his face, nobody knows his true identity. Except for a few helpful allies. The reader is best friends with Dean for long as she can remember, and head over heels in love with the man. But she doesn’t have mutual feelings for the Red Hood. 

However an encounter with the vigilante starts to change her opinion on the hero, and soon, she grows a fascination with him. Somehow she finds herself growing a strange friendship with the vigilante she once was supposed to hate, not realizing it’s someone she knew. Dean, hiding behind the mask of the Red Hood, shows his true feelings for the reader in disguise. Little do they realize both of them are holding a secret from each other that will put them in danger. 

*Based upon Jensen Ackles as The Red Hood.

Mary Winchester hated the city. It was no place to raise a child.

It was too loud. People were mean and rude. The streets were filthy and littered with trash. Not to mention, the noise pollution. Drunks singing loud as they could at three in the morning and drivers honking their horns any chance they could get, as if that was going to make traffic run smoother. Her upstairs neighbors when she first move in was a young couple that fought when people should have been sleeping. While all of these factors drove Mary insane for the first handful of months, her boys didn't seem bothered by their surroundings. Dean was born shortly after they moved, and Sammy had turned the city sounds into his own personal lullaby. She’d lived here for four years, and she still wondered why John wanted to move here.

Well...it was the job offer that brought the newly weds here. Both of them were dirt poor with almost no money to their name. Back at home they were living in an apartment that was half the size of their current place when Bobby gave them a call. John had been out of the Marines for over a year and a half, but he hadn't found a steady job. Mary was determined to make all of this work without asking her parents for a single dime.

They made it quite clear they didn't like John. He wasn't "suitable material" for their little girl, her father said when she first started going steady with the man Her mother ushered her to think about other men she would be happy with when she became engaged. There was so many other boys Mary could have fell in love with, why the Winchester boy?

Because Mary loved him. And John loved her. Why couldn't that be enough for her parents to understand? Sure, John was from the lower side of town. He grew up with a single mother after his father left the family without a trace when he was young. John was rough around the edges, but he cared for Mary. He treated her like a queen. What they had together was enough to make them happy for the rest of their lives. But it wasn't enough to pay the bills and keep food stocked up in the fridge. Mary was slowly losing her hope that she could make it through their first year without asking her parents for help, but, like a gift from God, the couple got a break.

Bobby Singer called one afternoon to see how John was doing. Bobby was a family friend that John met in the Marines. Both of them trained and fought together in the war, developing a bond that would last for years to come. Bobby made contact with the young couple to see how they were doing, and to see if John was interested in a job with the police force. Hundreds of miles away from their small little town in Lawrence, Kansas...away from everyone they loved. And far away from Mary’s parents.

The coupled jumped on the opportunity to start their life over again. Everything seemed to have worked out like it was meant to be. Her parents gifted them with a three bedroom apartment in the better part of the city when they broke the news about moving, and how Mary was expecting her first child in late January. Dean came along a few months after they settled into the apartment and got everything exactly how they liked it. John's new career at the police force was going well and Mary was enjoying her new life as a homemaker. Everything seemed perfect...and it was. Except for the city. Mary tried and tried to fall in love with it like John had. But she couldn't stand it. She missed home. She missed having a yard and trees.

Dean was the opposite of his mother, he loved the city. He was only four and yet to see the flaws in the concrete jungle, but from what he could understand, the place was filled with wonders, and he took in every little thing the city had to offer. The sights of buildings that were monstrous compared to his small view on the world. The smells of all sorts of different cuisines from food carts on the corner and family owned restaurants from people wanting to spread their native foods to the city folks. Not to mention the sight of millions of different people that looked different than him. That was something a small town Kansas couldn't offer. Dean couldn't wait for when his little brother would be old enough to see of this for himself, and to be old enough to play in the vast and spacious park that was only a fifteen minute walk from their apartment.

Mary was a bit afraid of how Dean was going to handle the news of becoming a big brother after she found out she was carrying her second child a little after Dean turned three. Mary and John were both only children. They dreaded the thought of Dean becoming angry and upset at the thought of having the attention not be on him as it had been for the first three years of his life. But to their surprise, the little boy seemed overjoyed. Dean loved his new little brother with every fiber of his being. Mary had never knew the bond of sibling love. She only hoped her children could have what she never did. A strong family bond that lasted forever.

"Mommy?" It was a little late into the evening when Mary was disturbed from the evening news she was watching in the living room. She looked away from the news reporter to see her oldest son standing in the hallway, his glasses crooked slightly on his face and eyes squinted from the florescent lights he was still getting used to. "I heard a noise."

"What kind of noise, honey?" Mary asked in a soft voice. She shut off the TV and sat straight up in her seat on the couch. Dean began to make slow footsteps towards. Her son shrugged his shoulders. "Did it sound like people talking? Maybe a car horn?"

Dean shook his head, “It’s in the walls. I hear scratching.”

Mary thought to herself for a moment what could have possibly made scratching sounds inside the wall. But then it hit her. The reason why she hated this place. Rats. Those disgusting, fat creatures with their long claws and thick pink tails. She let out a quiet sigh and got up to her feet, tempting the idea of calling up John at the station to see if he would buy mouse traps on his way home from work for precaution until tomorrow morning. She'd sit down with Mrs. Wilson, the sweet landlord, to see if any other tenants had the same problem and if she might know of a good exterminator to take a look at the possible infestation while Dean was at preschool.

"Well, I can say for sure that it's not a monsters. Monsters don't like the city. There's not enough darkness to snatch kids up." Mary said, walking over to her son and grabbed him by the hand to lead him back his bedroom. "I'll have Daddy call someone to take a look at it tomorrow. Okay?"

“Okay.” Dean mumbled, agreeing with the plan. He slipped back into bed without much trouble, Mary tucked him back in like he had done two hours ago before he slipped out in a half-asleep state. She kneeled down so she was at level with the bed and fell silent for a moment to listen for the sound that had rose her son from his sleep. But nothing. All she heard was the muffled sound of a police siren passing by. “Mommy, what if it’s a person living in the walls?”

Mary felt her lips stretch into smile at her son's wild imagination. She refrained from laughing as she gave him a slightly confused expression. "It's not, honey. Where did that idea come from?"

"Uncle Bobby said he caught someone living in between a person's walls. He said that he was looking for bad kids to grab and eat them." Dean explained, giving his true reason why he had gotten up from bed to bug her. Mary let out a frustrated sigh from what the old kook had told her very impressionable child. "I don't want to get eaten."

“You won’t. I promise. Uncle Bobby was just...telling you a story. There’s nobody living in your walls. They’re just rats.” Mary reassured her son. Dean seemed to have somewhat believed her, but she could still see the apprehension on her son’s face. She wondered what she could do in order to get him to feel better. Looking around, she spotted the new action figures her parents had bought Dean when they visited last month. She grabbed them and placed each one on the nightstand—Batman, Superman, Spider-Man and the Incredible Hulk. The few that she could find. “See these guys? Long as they’re are around, nothing bad is going to happen to you.”

“What about Sammy?” Dean asked. Mary smiled at how he thought of his baby brother sleeping peacefully in the next room. “Who’s gonna protect him?” “Well…” Mary looked around the room and found Captain America peeking out from underneath the bed. She pulled out the figure and showed it to her son. “He’ll keep an extra eye on Sammy.” Mary could see the relief cross her son's face when she brought out his favorite toys that he played with every second that he possibly could. Him and John would play for hours with these hunks of plastic. Dean would play the hero as John pretended to be the villain who was trying to take over the world. She had a feeling her son was going to follow in her husband's footsteps in the career department. Dean had a knack for helping people and making sure people were safe. Like father, like son. The child stared at the Captain America action figure for a moment.

“Can I put it in Sammy’s room?” Dean's request was asked in a small and timid voice. He knew his mother was strict when it came to his bedtime and scooted him off to bed whenever he tried to get out. But Mary seemed okay with the idea of letting her son stay up for another few minutes. She had checked on the sixth month old to see that he was peacefully sleeping.

Mary allowed her son to get out of bed one more time tonight to deliver Captain America to the room next door to his to put the four year old's mind at ease. Both of them traveled only a few feet to enter ever so quietly into baby Sam’s room, the only light source besides the hallway light came from the baby giraffe nightlight to help guide their way into the room.

Mary pressed her index finger against her lips when she heard the baby let out a deep breath to follow the rhythmic pattern. Dean quietly made his way into the nursery and to the shelf that Bobby had built himself one afternoon, it was a present after he found out Mary was pregnant with her second child. It was filled with different stuffed animals and baby books Mary remembered reading to Dean when he was small as Sam.

The thought of her son being a baby, small as the one sleeping in the crib felt like it happened a lifetime ago. Children grow up quick, but time felt like it moved so slow at the same time when she thought about it. Soon the boys were going to be going to school before she even realized, and all of this was going to be a distant memory.

She grabbed the action figure from her son's hand and placed it on the very top shelf, making sure it was watching over baby Sammy. When she looked over at Dean to make sure she did a good job, her son broke out into a smile, suddenly seeming to have been filled with relief and happiness that his brother was safe from the fictional monster he thought was crawling inside the walls. Little did she realize there was a monster pacing around the halls outside of her apartment.

+ + +

Mary found herself back in the same spot on the couch she left twenty minutes ago after tucking in her son back into bed and reassuring him that there was no monster hiding in the walls and waiting to eat him. She swore she was going to give that Bobby Singer an earful the next time she saw him about how he spoke to her children. She had a feeling Karen, Bobby's wife, would feel the same way. Hell, she'd probably beat that man with a wooden spoon. But she saved the day from disaster. Mary smiled in the small victory and continued to watch the news, eagerly waiting for the news segment John told to keep an eye out for. Her husband was famous.

A few days ago the police and FBI took down one of the biggest underground crime rings the city had ever seen. Infamous crime boss, Nick something, Mary didn't remember his name, was arrested for a long list of charges that weren't ever going to let him see the day of light again. Drug charges, illegal possession of firearm, prostitution, rape, murder...the list went on for this one man. But Mary forced her husband to stop talking when he admitted that this Nick guy murdered his baby son and wife, but blamed it on a "robber." It didn't matter. Karma got the son of a bitch. Bobby and John were the ones who made the very public arrest.

Mary half-listened to the report about some robbery that happened upstate just this morning. She found her attention drifting away from the TV when she heard the phone start to ring, which was rather odd for this late at night. Mary could think of only one person that was calling at this time of night, her mother. She only called every few week to see how things were doing and the boys were. Her parents were already in bed at this time of night. She’d be only calling at this time of night if something happened to her father. Mary's mind wandered to the worst case scenario as she got up from the couch to answer the phone.

"Hello?" Mary answered the phone on its second ring. Her voice was dull as she was momentarily distracted by her panic of her father's imaginable illness. She looked over her at to the TV, her lips stretching into a small smile at the sight of her husband on the small screen. She thought to herself about how handsome he looked in his uniform as he escorted out the criminal that was going to be locked away for years to come. “Winchester residence.”

“Mary? Is that you?” The voice on the other end was instantly recognizable as her husband. She answered John’s question in a chipper tone, but he didn’t greet her with a hello like always. “Are you and the boys okay?”

"We're fine." Mary reassured her husband. A slightly confused expression crossed her face from the question he asked her. "Honey, is everything alright with you?"

"Mary, I need you to listen to me very carefully. You and the boys need to find somewhere safe to hide." John explained to the woman the true reason why he was calling. Mary felt a shiver run up her spine from the way her husband was speaking. She warned him to stop joking around. "I wish I was joking, sweetheart. But I'm not. Grab the gun I have in the nightstand and take Dean to Sammy's room. Lock the door and don't let anyone in."

“W-What?” Mary suddenly found it hard to form words. “John, what’s going on?”

The line went silent for a moment, as if he was debating with himself if he wanted to tell her the truth. He did. "It's probably nothing. Some kid dropped a note off at the the front desk a half an hour ago. It said that the families of the cops involved with the big bust a few days ago were..." John didn't need to say the words for Mary to understand. It was a threat against her life. And her two precious boys she had sleeping just down the hall. "I'm heading out now. Bobby left five minutes ago to check on Karen and Y/N."

Mary understood that when her husband became a cop his life would be put in danger every single time he put on the uniform. But never did she think her own would be. Her last thought before she heard the door handle start to slightly rattle was about the safety of the Singer family and their new adopted daughter, Y/N. The infant who had been brought into this world in a painful and miserable way that made Mary feel nauseous when Bobby told her the story. She was such a beautiful baby girl. Mary wondered if her and the boys would be good friends. But she would never know the future, as hers only lasted for a few more minutes before it was cut.

+ + +

Dean felt himself inhale a deep breath as his mind tore itself away from the familiar hellish nightmare that could always make him break out into a cold sweat and confuse him for a second of where he was,. In the brief few seconds of his sleepy haze he thought he was four years old again, clutching his action figure he grabbed from his room for comfort and hid underneath his baby brother's crib like his mother instructed him to do. And he did. His four year old self focused on keeping silent as possible, he was a pro at it from the hundreds of times he used to play hide and seek with his father after he came home from work. But trying to block out his mother’s screams for mercy were harder. The seven minutes that it took his father to get home felt like it took a lifetime and a half.

His father prayed to the Virgin Mary, God and their son Jesus that his wife was safe during the entire way back home from the station. John found her dead body lying on the living room floor, bleeding out from the six stab wounds the killer managed to inflict before sneaking out the fire escape. The last thing Dean remembered about that night was seeing all those cops in the living room and the flashing of lights. Bobby was there, too. He took Dean out to the police car and showed him all the buttons that an officer had to use to chase down bad guys. Dean thought that was the night he wanted to help people. And the last time he ever saw his mother.

Three days after his mother's murder, his father quit the force. He decided that his time would be suited better to helping people as a private investigator, attempting to solve crimes and mysteries the police didn't have time for. Dean knew it was an excuse to obsess over the murder that took his mother's life when his father got a little too drunk. He lost count how many times he came home to boxes and boxes of evidence lying around the apartment. Dean was surprised the old man survived until a few years ago from the heart attack that took his life. His mother’s murder drove his father insane. But now the both of them were at rest.

Dean rubbed his face with his hands, forcing his aching body to get up when he heard the sounds  of rustling coming from outside his bedroom and into his apartment. For a split second in his post nightmare haze, Dean reached for the gun that he always kept hidden underneath his pillow, thinking someone had followed him home last night. But then he realized a few moments later that it was Friday morning, your weekly visit to his apartment to make sure that he was still alive and to drop off the food you picked up after each time you stole his credit card. You thought you were being sneaky, but he caught you every time, yet he never said anything.

Dean was thankful for the helpfulness on such a simple task, and you wanted to make sure the man didn’t eat himself into an early grave from all the takeout he had. Dean didn’t remember the last time he cooked a meal for himself, either. You were here almost every chance you could when you and Dean weren’t too busy with work. From an early age you were in the kitchen with your mother, Karen, learning all the tips and tricks to make a delicious meal. You loved loved to cook, and he loved you...r food. Obviously.

"I don't understand why you don't just ask Dean if you can move in. You're practically here every chance you can get." Charlie Bradbury, best friend to you and Dean, was currently occupying one of the chairs at the small dining area and enjoying the fresh pot of coffee you had put on before she arrived. She was drinking out of the cup that was in the shape of Iron Man's head. It was part of a gift you had gotten Dean few Christmas' ago that were a set of Marvel superhero coffee cups. "You cook for him, you buy his groceries."

"Hey, I'm not paying for this out of my own pocket. He pays for his own stuff. I just happen to live a few blocks away from the store. And I know how to cook better than he can. It's the only way I can get him to eat something that isn't a pizza or deep fried." You defend yourself against your best friend as you put away a few cans of vegetables into a cabinet. "Besides, Dean does this stuff for me when I get busy with the paper.”

"You never do it for me." Charlie said.

“That’s because you’re annoying.” You sarcastically shot back at her. You knew what you said would only add more fuel for her to use against her. So you added, “And that's a lie. I was over at your place every single day cooking for you when you broke your leg last year after you and Dorothy went up the Adirondacks to go skiing. It’s what friends do.”

“Yeah. True. But you’re also obsessed with him and his well-being.” Charlie slyly remarked. She hid her growing smirk behind the coffee cup as she took another sip of her drink. She saw your body stiffen in discomfort at how the conversation shifte. She would take any chance she could get to remind you of the dirty secret you confessed to her at a New Years party a few years back while you were too drunk for your own good. “Why don’t you just ask him out already?”

“Because!” You quickly shushed the redhead when you realized that Dean was still sleeping in the room just across the way. Unless Charlie’s big mouth woke him up. “It’s weird. He’s my best friend. I’ve known him since I was born.”

Charlie's brow raised slightly in curiosity, "So you're finally admitting that you like him?"

You opened your mouth to defend yourself against your best friend's assumption, however you slowly shut it as you felt your cheeks burn in embarrassment when Charlie's smirk grew into a toothy smile. You would admit in a heartbeat that Dean was your best friend for long as you could remember, along with his little brother Sam, who was almost six months older than you. Your father said all you were like the three musketeers growing up, you were always at each other's side at every chance you could get. And the dynamics stayed the same when the three of you were adults with careers and lives of your own. You and Sam had your own dynamics you formed after going to school from pre-k all the way to your senior year of high school. But your friendship with Dean was...different.

There was something about him, from his nerdish love for everything comics and horror related, to old Westerns he used to make you and Sam watch all the time as teens, to his taste in music. The both of you liked a lot of the same things, sharing a special bond to the old cartoon of Scooby Do when you used to watch it together, and his secret guilt pleasure of Disney movies you would drag him every so often if there was a cute one playing in theatres. He was adamant on not wanting to see "Finding Dory" when it came out a few years ago, but he fell in love with the forgetful fish. Much as the both of you acted like best friends, at some point in your life you grew the tiniest crush on him that never stopped growing.

Luckily before you could try and deflect the conversation from spilling your guts, a familiar face greeted you when you turned around to finish putting away the rest of the groceries. A smile crept at the ends of your lips when you saw Dean standing in the doorway of the kitchen with a slightly groggy expression, his green eyes that you could stare into all day were covered behind this black rimmed glasses he wore since he was a little kid. You realized that you must have accidentally woken up from how loud you and Charlie were talking.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty." You greeted the man in a playful tone as you shut the fridge door after putting away a quart of milk. Dean scratched the back of his head, subtly making sure his short hair wasn't sticking out in any odd ends. He adjusted his glasses and mumbled a good morning to follow yours. You took a moment to examine the man when he went on the search for finding himself a clean mug to pour himself a cup of coffee. "No offense, but you like you were dragged through a hedge backwards. Rough night?"

"Yeah. If you want to call it that. I was out until three for a client. He wanted me to follow his wife around to see if she was cheating on him. You know, the stuff that pays the bills. Hey, do you know where the..." Dean tried to remember the word for the bottle of painkillers he was searching for. He rattled an invisible bottle in his hand, you grabbed him a new box of ibuprofen and threw it at him.

"Saw you were running low nd got some more. Stocked your bathroom with a new one, too. I swear, you gotta be careful with that stuff." You warned the man. But you knew you were contradicting yourself when you grabbed an open can of an energy drink you picked up from the store. "Too much of that is gonna give you kidney failure in the future."

"Uh-huh. And that stuff isn't a heart attack in a can." Dean said. You rolled your eyes as you took another sip of the drink that was the only thing keeping you from falling asleep. He ripped open the paper packaging to dig inside the bottle and take out a few pills, trying his hardest to keep the muffled sounds of his pain to a bare minimum so you wouldn't notice. But you always did.

"So," You leaned yourself against the countertop and looked over at the man who downed the few pills with a sip of coffee Charlie poured for him. You pointed to Dean's stomach area that you were guessing was making him walk around like an eighty year old man in pain. "What's the latest injury? The cheating wife kick your ass after she found out you were following her?"

Dean worked as a private investigator after taking over his father's business when John died a few years ago from a heart attack. Winchester Investigations was started before Dean's firth birthday and attracted all sorts of people for John to help them. Mostly on missing people and unsolved mysteries that families wanted closure for. But that didn’t always walk through the door asking for Dean’s investigative skills. Lately it was a disgruntled spouses wanting to see if their partner was cheating on them with someone younger than them. They wanted photographic proof to file for divorce, Dean agreed, and he'd do all sorts of weird things to get his proof.

“I...might have fell out of a fire escape trying to get her picture.” Dean admitted to you. His words became muffled slightly as he brought the cup back to his lips to take another sip. But he knew you heard him as your eyes grew slightly wide in concern as you spoke his name in a serious tone of voice. “Relax, Y/N. I’m fine. Nothing’s broken. Just a little bruised up.”

You let out a sigh and shook your head from how accident prone he could be. You rubbed your face with your hand as you let out a yawn. The few hours of sleep you managed to get last night were demanding more. “You look like crap yourself.” Charlie said. You gave her a small smile as you sarcastically thanked her for the compliment. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“About two hours. Cas and I were down at the docks since four this morning. His ‘friend’ Meg tipped him off about these four girls who said they were kidnapped and kept in these horrendous conditions in one of those storage units. You know, the ones that get shipped off into boats and stuff? Well, we got there first and took a look around. And...trust me, it was messed up." You explained the situation to your friends about the news story you were investigating for your job. These poor girls were kept in complete darkness for days. They barely were given any food. There was no place to go to the bathroom or bathe. God knows what would have happened."

"That's terrible." Charlie mumbled. You could see a slightly disturbed expression cross her face when she imagined what kind of things you had seen. She knew by tomorrow morning you would have written all about it with Cas' pictures on the front page. "How did they get away?"

"This is where things got...ridiculous. These girls claimed a guy dressed in all leather and a red mask saved them. Never saw his face. The guy never said a word to them. He somehow managed to take on four men all by himself." You said, your lips stretching into a small smirk as you retold the statement one of the women had given to Meg Masters. "When the cops got there all of the men were tied up and locked in the unit."

Charlie's brow raised itself slightly in curiosity from the description she heard a dozen times before, "You mean this could be the work of the Red Hood?"

"Red Hood. Who the hell came up with that stupid name?" You mumbled to yourself. You couldn't help yourself when you rolled your eyes as you scoffed from the name you had grown to hate. "No. These girls were severely dehydrated and scared out of their minds. They probably wanted to think it was that psycho."

"If they were in such bad shape, how did they manage to escape?" Charlie asked. You tilted your head to the side and gave her an annoyed look from how she was getting on your nerves today. She grew a smile from how easy the mention of the masked vigilante could make you so angry. "Why do you hate the Red Hood so much?"

"Because there's some stranger out there taking the law into his own hands. Putting the lives of people in danger so they can play hero.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. "Last time I check it only takes three buttons to call 911 and report a crime. It's gonna be a matter of time until they kill someone."

"But they haven't yet." Charlie subtly argued with you. You gave her a look of disbelief from her support to this masked mad man running around the city that seemed to have popped out of nowhere a few years ago. "You've got a point, Y/N/N. And I'm not dissing your dad or the cops. They do a good job. But it doesn't hurt to have some peace of mind knowing there's someone out there looking out for us folks. And he probably saved those girls from being trafficked.”

You let out a sigh as you looked around the kitchen, waiting a second before giving your best friend the satisfaction that she had won this argument. "You’re right. But I still don't like him. And I’m not mentioning him in the article.”

You finished the last of your drink and disposed of it in the recycling. You wanted to stay for a little longer but you needed a nap and write the first draft of the article for your editor, Gabriel, to read over to see what revisions you might need to make before the printing of tomorrow's paper. You said your goodbyes to your best friends and made your way out. A moment of silence fell between Dean and Charlie after the door slammed shut. Dean sipped the rest of his coffee as he started to open up the cabinets, wondering what he might want for breakfast. He ignored the shift in Charlie's expression as she narrowed your eyes slightly on the man.

“You fell out of a fire escape, huh?”

“Yup.”

Charlie tapped her fingers against the ceramic mug, allowing the man a chance to come clean with the truth of his injuries. But Dean remained silent as he settled on a bowl of cereal, ever so slightly wincing at the movements he made. Charlie couldn’t take it anymore. “I thought we were gonna be smart about this, Dean. You could have gotten yourself killed. We should have went to the cops—”

“Charlie, I've went up against worse. I'm just a little sore. I'll be fine in a couple of days. Nothing a little rest and painkillers can’t fix. And besides, I don't think Bobby would like how we found those girls.” Dean cut off of the redhead from expressing her concerns. Charlie let out a faint sigh as she sank down into her seat, knowing that he was right. "But you did a good job. You should be proud of yourself.”

Charlie grew the faintest smile as her face lit up at the compliment. She took another sip of her drink and looked over at the front door. "I think Y/N is starting not to had the Red Hood so much. I'd call that progress." Dean turned his head slightly and looked at the woman from the corner of his eye. "You know, I think she would change her mind for good if she were to meet him."

Dean gave his best friend a disapproving expression from her idea. He didn’t want anyone to know the truth, not even Charlie. But things happened that caused her to know his secret. And he wanted to keep it between the both of them. "Right. Tell the daughter of the city's police captain that I'm really the Red Hood. 'Cause that doesn't end up with me getting hauled off to jail. Or Y/N laughing in my face.”

"I didn't say you had to reveal your secret. Just find a way to talk to her as the Red Hood." She suggested. Dean stopped for a moment as he stared at her with a look of disbelief from how she wasn’t letting this go. He asked her in a sarcastic tone of voice if he wanted her to show up at their best friend’s front door dressed up as the persona he adapted into. “No. But I know Y/N. And she loves a man in uniform. Besides, you can’t tell me you’ve never followed her around.”

“What? No. That’s weird.” Dean quickly defended himself against such an absurd accusation his friend thought of. Charlie tilted her head to the side, he quickly moved his gaze back to the bowl of cereal me made for himself. “I did get those pictures of Mrs. Taylor last night. They're still on the computer. Send them to the client and get the hell out of my apartment. I’m going back to bed.”

Charlie watched as Dean grabbed his bowl of cereal and began to slowly make his journey back to his bedroom, the painkillers he took were starting to kick in. The redhead snickered to herself and got to work on her day job, delivering bad news to their clients about their suspicions on how faithful their partner was being. As Charlie uploaded the pictures to the computer, she found herself growing the smallest smile. Sure, this kind of work helped keep her and Dean in a job, but it was what the both of them accomplished last night that made her stick around and help the Red Hood. And she had to repay him back after Dean saved her life that night.

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[puckmanhq]

SOMEBODY ELSE // ( nobias )

WHO: noah puckerman & toby berry ( @berrytobias )

WHAT: an unexpected moment

WHERE: puckersquad penthouse 

WHEN: july 23, 2019 @ 8:42pm

WHY: because at some point these two were gonna have to converse about some shit except did they? 

Usually, Puck would have gone on acting like Toby was some 'other' in his weird little family tree. The brother of his baby mama, his daughter's uncle, his kid sister's best friend. Always there off to the side, blurred and close but never the focus, bever directly in his line of sight. Not until a couple weeks ago anyway, when he'd woken up hungover as fuck, naked and covered by an equally undressed Toby. Was it any wonder he'd assumed they'd had sex. Suddently this consistant background presence was front and center, and there that tall lanky man remained, even now. With the end credits of Fast Five scrolling along the TV screen, Puck had barely even paid attention and that was genuinely surprising. I mean Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson made his entrance to the franchise in this movie and all Puck could think about was the last time he and Toby were on acouch together. "We'd be more fucked up than last time if we actually drank everytime a one liner was said in that fucking movie. But you've gotta try the apple pie moonshine, shit tastes legit, I promise."

Toby slouched back against the couch with a silent sigh. The space between them felt a lot more than it actually was, a lot deeper than the shadows hiding inside the cushion crevices. It felt awkward. He had really hoped the movie invitation would put him and Puck back at zero. He wanted to rewind them back before the glitter hug at the parade and before the naked version of off-key karaoke. But life wasn’t a stupid VHS tape. Toby lolled his head to the side, looking at puck with his signature lop-sided smile. "Either that, or every time they shifted gears.” Toby tapped his temple with a wink. “See, you fucked up, Puck. You can’t mention apple pie to me and not have me want to taste. I love dessert. I mean, I love food in general, but sweet stuff?” He wiggled. “Ooh, baby.” He then collapsed his fingers in a grabbing motion at his handsome host. “Gimme.”

"Dude you wanna get fucked up with gear shifts you gotta watch the second and third movie. Your skinny ass would definitely need a stomach pump trying to keep up with that shit." Already pouring a shot for his apparent drinking buddy, although he was taking it slow. Didn't want a repeat of last time, if anything was gonna happen he wanted his wits about him. A drunk him trying to make something more happen is, as his sister would put it, not it. Handing the full shot glass to Toby, he smiled a the grabby hands and that shouldn't have been as endearing to Puck as it was. Maybe he had drank more then he thought. Feeling his fingers ghost over Toby's as he tried to make sure Toby had a decent gasp on the glass he felt his body desperate to react and thank fuck he wasn't seventeen anymore and he had more control over his body. Without even realizing his body had moved even closer to Toby's on the couch, effectively closing the gap between them. "It's fucking good right?There's not even a bite to it. Shit is dangerous." Honestly, he was way too focused on memorizing everything about Toby's face as he spoke to even realize he'd said anything.

“You say that like I’ve never played this game with Ali. We’re pros, my dude.” Which was, only partly true. Semi-pros was probably more accurate. Their drinking games mainly revolved around obscure references and how many on-screen deaths there were. Toby didn’t flinch at the bump of their fingers or the warmth that radiated off them. Toby’s personal bubble was excruciatingly small. He had no issue with closeness, much to the annoyance of certain people. He scooted forward to properly take the shot, gently knocking Puck’s knee with his own. He lifted the glass. “Down the hatch.” His usual grimace faded as quickly as the drink fell past his throat. “Ooh shit.” He looked over at puck with exuberant child-like wonder.  “Bro,” he drew loudly, “that was tasty as hell.” He licked his lips. “You’re gonna have to hit me with another one. It’s--” He rolled his eyes at Puck’s warning. “Oh, come the fuck on. There’s nothing wrong with things being dangerous.” He handed over his glass forcefully. He was getting another shot goddammit. “That’s what makes life interesting, Puck. Live a little with me.” He thought for a moment. You know, kinda like last time. But not like last time, because you have AC,” he clarified. Toby cleared his throat. “Should we... Um.” He scratched the back of his neck with anxious fingers. “Should we talk about that night by the way? I know we didn’t do anything, but…”

Fuck, he’d been drinking water when Toby had the fucking nerve to say something as ludicrous as down the hatch, so naturally the next thing out of Puck’s mouth was water. Putting his glass down, he lifted his shirt up to wipe the water from his chin, running it down to his chest as well, before idly taking the empty glass from Toby. “Dude you’re already saying shit like down the hatch, I don’t think you need anymore.” Despite his words his actions said he was totally down with a two shots of moonshine in Tobias Berry, seeing as he was pouring him another as he fucking spoke. “Pretty sure I wrote the book on living a little. Chapter one, Knock up your best friend. Chapter two, get sent to juvie. Chapter three, drop out of high school. Shit, maybe if I’d finished junior year I could write a damn book.” Honestly, he was going to just act like Toby hadn’t brought up the thing Puck had spent weeks trying to forget even happened. Wasn’t that like the unspoken thing? What happens on tequila is forgotten forever and whatever you do remember you pretend you fucking forgot. Did no one tell the kid the rules of Añejo? Handing him his shot and taking one himself, he wiped his bottom lip before clearing his throat. Looking intently at him, Puck tried to read him, figure out if he wanted to say something without actually having to say anything, but he didn’t know the younger man well enough to do all that. Throwing his arm around the back of the couch around Toby’s shoulders, still looking at him. It was like Puck didn’t have that much control over his fucking body and he wasn’t 100% sure where the fuck it was going to take him next and maybe that was his way of living a little. “Sorry can’t remember, what was it that didn’t happen again?” He asked with a slight smirk, looking between Toby’s mouth and his eyes, Puck suddenly knew exactly where his body want to take this.

Toby tossed back his shot before answering, hoping the liquid courage would coat his throat and make everything he wanted to say smoother, sweeter, and more like the taste that was already fading from his tongue  “I know you can’t remember, Puck. That was the whole point of talk--” Toby blanched. Was… Was Puck putting the moves on him? It was all there. The smirk. The arm move. Toby’s pupils dilated. Was Puck looking at his mouth? “Oh God,” he spoke absentmindedly. “I mean, um…” His heart doubled its speed as he forced his gaze away. Why did he suddenly feel like he was 15 again? He didn’t still have a crush on his sister’s baby daddy. That was idiotic. “Aliyah said we…” Toby swallowed and regained his composure. “She said that we were being drunk jackasses and we sang karaoke and shit. Got naked at some point?” Cuddled. “Then we, um. Then we passed out. Nothing happened. But I wanted to make sure you weren’t weird about it, I guess?” Toby laughed nervously. “You know what? It’s fine. Water under the bridge or whatever.” Toby patted Puck’s thigh. “That cool? We good?” He didn’t move his hand.

As the other spoke, Puck looked at him intently, holding back a smile as he recounted their tale all those weeks ago. Once them getting naked was mentioned he could feel the slight pressure from him biting his bottom lip. Honestly it made him think it was kind of a shame they hadn’t made out, would have taken care of some of their current tension, but then that would be so much less fun. A flustered Toby was, kinda hot. Barely even registering what the younger man said before he finally stopped talking, Puck just looked down at the hand resting on his thigh and nodded. There were a couple of way he could probably lead this moment, and he was definitely going to be the leader, which should surprise exactly no one. Option one was to just say, yeah man we’re good, and laugh that shit off and let everything just settle into something normal and expected. Option two though, “Kinda a shame, right? That we didn’t make out, at least. That would’ve made the morning after hangover so much more worth it.” fuel the tension and see where it goes. Clearly, the dude was attracted to him, I mean who wasn’t? and Puck.... Puck would label it healthy human curiosity, after all he just wanted to know what it would be like to make out with Toby, nothing to dwell on there. So he leaned in, maintaining eye contact to see how close the other would allow him to get. When he was so close he could the other man’s warmth, he stopped looking at his lips before looking back up to his eyes, searching for permission.

Toby’s heart continued to thunder in his chest. He thought he had grown out of this feeling years ago. Again, he reminded himself he wasn’t a goddamn teenager with a crush. Puck wasn’t ruffling his hair as he walked past him to get to Lucky. Puck wasn’t playfully punching him in the shoulder. Puck wasn’t doing that nod of appreciation for babysitting on such late notice.. No, this was different. Very different. Puck was looking into Toby’s eyes, into Toby’s fucking soul. “A shame?” he repeated. “I mean, we could have for all we know. I think Aliyah caught the tail-end of our whole drunk singing thing. Maybe we did kiss before she showed up. And we just forgot. Like everything else.” Tobias Berry was on fire. “I don’t know about making a hangover worth it, Puck.” His headache for the entirety of the Pride Parade came to mind. “Though,” Toby laughed to himself. “I’ve actually been told I’m a really good kisser.” He licked his lips unconsciously. “Five star reviews.” Oh God. Was he doing this? Was he actually doing this? “We can make it worth it now,” he spoke quietly. “If you want to.” Eyes closed, Toby neared Puck’s lips with his own.

Up until two years ago, Toby was Lucky’s kid brother, then he was Lucky’s kid brother and Jo’s uncle. Then he was Lucky’s kid brother, Jo’s uncle, Aliyah’s roommate and Stevie’s best friend. To Puck, Toby had always been someone somebody else knew, he was always in his peripheral vision, a familiar but out of focus figure in his mind. Then the night before the IHQ Pride Games happened and suddenly he could see the younger man so clearly it was almost blinding. Had his hair always been that curly? Had his smile always been that endearing? Had he always talked this much? Had his voice always sounded like that? At first he thought maybe he was just doing this because he could, you know, like he always did. Saw someone attractive, charmed his way into their favor and did what came natural because he needed a release but that wasn’t what was happening. Not really, I mean, if it were he’d have shut Toby up at ’A shame?’ or been too focused on his mouth to hear anything he was actually saying, but he could’ve recited him word for word right now. Then, as if in slow motion, Toby assumed the, ‘kiss me’ position and Puck felt his instincts kick in and he had a hand on his face, the pad of his thumb tracing his jawline and he was so close and then those four words rung in his head; ‘If you want to.’ and he realized he really fucking did and that was kinda fucking him up, because Toby wasn’t just some dude, he was ingrained in the fabric of Puck’s life and somehow he was just now piecing that together. Resting his forehead against Toby’s, he knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t think of a single reason why as he closed the gap between them. It was slow and something else that Puck would later find was... meaningful. Fuck.

[seyaryminamoto]

Did you outline the entirety of Gladiator or do you create new arcs as you go along?

Gladiator is by far the most complicated story I have ever plotted. I’m pretty sure it shows, but it’s been a large-scale mess that I’ve tried to put together to the best of my ability. So many threads to bring together, so much that needs to be addressed in a world where the Fire Nation has virtually won the war… so it’s been a very long process.

I’ve been working on this story for 6 years now. I think I can safely say, around this point in time, that I have all arcs and important plotlines planned out. And even then, I only finished planning out what the General of Ozai’s Imperial Guards has been doing behind Ozai’s back around a couple of weeks ago. 

I suppose it might sound insane, especially as I’ve always held on to some of my original ideas on where to take the story. I probably plotted the events from chapter 97 around two days into planning the story. I plotted the eventual Combustion Man confrontation since day 1, I believe? But as the scope of Gladiator is so big, it’s a whole complicated process of steering things along carefully towards the direction I want for the story.

It must have taken me over a year to know what was the actual route the story would take for Part 3. After a lot of input by a friend, which left me in a bit of a strange position briefly because, while I didn’t dislike the ideas, I didn’t know what to make of them right away either, I eventually glimpsed a better outcome than the ones I’d been toying with so far. Ever since I figured where we were headed, a lot of the worldbuilding and sideplots have been geared towards developing the world into what it will have to become for Part 3. Some things may feel irrelevant right now, I suppose, but ultimately they won’t be. Nearly all characters, new or old, canon or OCs, will have a part to play in the story’s future. I can only hope that Part 3 will indeed do the rest of the story justice, but I’m confident that it’s the best direction I could be choosing for Gladiator.

There were several arcs and storylines that I did come up with later down the line: for instance, Hahn’s involvement in the story has been a late-ish addition, even though he’s going to bring in an important element for Part 3 (and for Zhao’s motivations to conquer the north). There’s an arc in the navigator right now, the Gladiators and Sponsors Race event, and it’s also a relatively late addition to the story. Azula’s confirmation as Ozai’s heir was also a late addition, something I came up with probably a couple of months before writing the scene where Ozai tells Azula he wants to declare her his heir. Hell, this may even sound completely bonkers but Azula’s homeless people situation was something I came up with like… DAYS before writing it. That wasn’t planned beforehand AT ALL, even though it has become a pretty important wedge that drives Ozai and Azula apart (plus it gave me the excuse for Azula’s speech in the festivals and I am ever delighted I wrote that). As for Haru’s family’s arc, for a very long time I had planned for Tyro to be alive, but eventually I realized it might just make more sense if he wasn’t. It would hike up the stakes, and on top of that, it would give Azula the motivation to take action about slavery even if Ozai was going to shut her down. And what started in Haru’s family arc through Tyro’s death will have a huge impact on everything that will come in the Slave Riot arc, and everything that comes next.

So… it’s not a straightforward process. It’s more like going forward, then backtracking, then going further back and then modifying what’s ahead if the lead-up doesn’t fit…? There’s a lot of tinkering to do for plotlines to work, for characters to develop in the way they need to. It’s hard work… but I can’t deny I love tying up old arcs with new ones, showing that nearly nothing is inconsequential, and that as much as it’s a slow-going process, our two main leads are moving forward to change a world what direly needs people with their abilities and leadership to take a stand for what they truly believe in.

If you’re curious about what I’d been planning before my friend’s input helped me find a whole new direction for the entire story…

Sokka was going to become Ozai’s gladiator. Yeah. I have no idea how I went from “Ozai discovers them” to “Ozai hires the guy who destroyed his daughter’s virtue”, but I did indeed. And it made as little sense when I came up with it as it does now that I’m telling you about it.

Sokka and Azula weren’t going to have half as many romantic moments in Part 1 as they did. I actually had planned for the first chaotic kiss, and then they would stay perfectly professional and pining over each other hopelessly until 97. Haha. I sure overestimated my willpower AND theirs.

After 97, though, I didn’t use to have remotely as many plans as I do with Part 2 right now. I knew I didn’t want them to be caught right away, but I didn’t think I’d extend things as long as I have because I had virtually no idea of where we were headed and how to get there. I didn’t know what needed to be set up, and so, I didn’t know if there’d be any story to tell beyond “Ozai caught them”. So, I had assumed I would give them a few months of romantic bliss only to tear them apart shortly after.

Back when things were very nebulous and new, I wasn’t sure about aging up Aang despite I think my explanation for him being older isn’t all that absurd. So, initially he was going to be a little 12-year-old kid amongst a bunch of grown-ups. Even then, I wanted Zuko to go south but I had no idea HOW to get him there. At that point in time, Zutara was a possibility for the story. When I decided to age up Aang, and Suki became a larger player, I realized there was a much smoother possibility by pairing them up with different characters instead (and frankly, Zuko’s character development via Zuki has made me feel so much better about him that I am really, REALLY glad I picked the current storyline over this one).

Zuko was, at one point, going to become a gladiator. It’s something a lot of people asked for, so I, being the easily-swayed fool I was, thought it might be a good idea for him to be the Blue Spirit. I can’t remember who I came up with as a possible sponsor for him, maybe the fact that I couldn’t even come up with a sponsor is the true reason why I ditched this idea.

Katara was also going to be a gladiator: Azula’s. Yeah. After Ozai took Sokka, Katara was SOMEHOW going to end up in the Capital and Azula was going to hire her in some nonsensical bid to save Sokka from her father. Where’s the logic? I dunno, I’ve been wondering the same thing for the last 6 years.

I didn’t have any clue who was going to be Fire Lord, and I actually didn’t realize Azula was going to have every right and reason to be the one to inherit the throne until relatively later in the game. It sounds so dumb now, I’m sure, but for a time I had taken for granted Zuko would be Fire Lord (must be I subconsciously bought all his talk about his MANIFEST DESTINY…! until I didn’t :’DDD).

There really wasn’t going to be much of a war left to fight anymore. The White Lotus wasn’t going to have a particularly important role, and I had no intentions of bringing Ursa in until Yang’s story displeased me enough that I decided I had to tell my own take on Ursa’s disappearance, if just to put it out there. Anyhow, going back to the White Lotus subject, it meant that someone killing Ozai was going to be the only way to end the mess of the 100+ year war because I had zero confidence about writing big battle scenes (tbh I still don’t? but I’m still going to give it a shot).

Toph and Iroh were going to be largely irrelevant. I mean, now that I look back on it, their roles were merely going to be about antagonizing Sokka and Azula for as long as they could. I had no intentions to make them friends with Toph, and I didn’t really plan to feature Iroh in a particularly plot-relevant role until, well… :’D until the White Lotus attacked, oops.

Ultimately, everything was going to boil down to conflicts between the show’s core cast (and not even all of it, like I said Toph, Iroh and Suki weren’t particularly relevant all along), and OCs weren’t important in my plans at all. Poor Rui Shi only became relevant when I wrote chapter 7, I believe, and he first tried to defy Azula’s commands. Kino outright didn’t exist until… way past a year after I started the story. I literally came up with him after I went to bed and I forgot about him the next morning. I spent HOURS beating myself about remembering what I had come up with until he finally came to me again xD Side characters like Song, or even Shoji, were added mostly for the fun of bringing in familiar characters from the show at first. Eventually they gained relevance for reasons far more important than their brief appearances in the show, Song in particular.

My idea for Sokka and Azula getting back together in Part 3 was… probably a big reason why I didn’t feel comfortable with my general outlining back then. It’s not that it was TERRIBLE, but it didn’t make much sense for a dramatic reunion to take place when they would have, arguably, been living in the same Palace for a while if Ozai took Sokka as his gladiator :’D therefore, it was generally pretty anticlimactic, melodramatic, and I knew I needed something better than that.

I can’t remember much else of my early, scrapped plans. Virtually everything plot-related I’ve written up here is completley discarded now, which is why I feel free to disclose it all. Admittedly, this wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the reported original plans George R.R. Martin had for ASOIAF x’D but it’s not exactly good either. I’m glad that I allowed the outlining of the full plot to take as long as it had to until I had found the right direction for the story, else I would still be working with most this nonsense in mind and… Gladiator would be so much worse. I have no doubts it would be.

[theresnoturningback]

Gone  Fishin’ [PART 4]

A/N: And so we’ve come to the thrilling conclusion! It took me 22 days  but I finally finished this fanfic. I am satisfied with my work, with the help I got along the way and the friends I’ve made as I wrote every chapter. I never thought I would go back to writing like this. I remembered my days at uni. Best four years of my life. I learned so much, I wrote so much and I loved life so much. Honestly, I have serious skin issues and as I wrote every chapter, I felt my skin being healed. This is not a metaphor or anything. My skin literally got clearer and smoother. The two weeks I spent away from my notebook, my skin condition came back aggresively... If I was looking for a sign to never stop writing, that’s it. I’m sorry I’m rambling about myself when ya’ll just want to read some Clouis fluff. I’ll leave you guys be. Word Count: 8274...ya’ll might wanna grab some snacks while you’re at it.

Clementine’s decisive feet led her away from the school quickly. Her trusty knife in her right hand just in case things got messier than they already were. She was alert and determined to be alone on her way there and back. The quiet steps behind her argued otherwise.

She wasn’t sure who was following her, she only knew it couldn’t be AJ for several reasons. Two of them being that his legs were still too short to keep up her pace and of course, she had made it pretty clear with her yelling earlier that she didn’t want him there. She reflected on the latter and made a mental note to apologize to the kid once she was back. He didn’t deserve to be yelled at for wanting to help her.

The person behind her had been silent so far. She figured that if she didn’t say anything, they would remain a mystery, but she was dying to know if it was Louis. Maybe there was still a chance to fix things and make them less awkward. She swallowed her pride and broke silence with an annoyed sigh.

‘I’m sure I said I wanted to do this alone’

She waited for a response and Aasim’s voice made her look back at him in surprise.

‘I know what you said, but I promised AJ I’d keep you safe’

She squinted at him, resenting the assumption that she needed his help for something so trivial.

‘I don’t need anyone to keep me safe. I’m perfectly fine on my own. It’s been like that for years an--’

An arrow flew close past her, interrupting her speech and making her blood freeze. She heard an agonizing groan and a thud a few feet away from her and realized Aasim had just saved her life.

‘I owed you that one. Now we’re even’ He gave her a smug grin accompanied by a raised eyebrow.

She breathed deepy, walked towards the corpse and retrieved the arrow.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be an asshole about it’ She returned the deadly weapon back to its owner.

‘It’s okay, Clem, I can see it hasn’t been a normal day for you’ He smiled comprehensively as they began walking side by side. She didn’t expect that response, that was not his usual inflexible and stern attitude. She wondered if his usual behavior was just a façade.

‘It’s been one crazy day’ She mumbled mindlessly.

‘Yeah, I can see that, too’ Aasim recalled that one time, not long ago, he and Louis had an unexpected little boy talk while hunting.

‘You do?’ Her confusion grew by the second

He nodded, always looking around and with his bow ready to shoot.

‘Yeah, Louis can be a bit of an idiot and sometimes he does and says shit that make things weird but he means well’

‘I never said this was about Louis’ She sentenced, frowning once more. Aasim now looked at her, taking offense in her innocent defense.

‘How stupid do you think I am, Clem?’ She glanced at him as he looked forward once again, resuming his explanation ‘It may not seem like that at times, but Louis and I are actually good friends, despite our obvious differences. I respect him and value him a lot as a person. We have deep conversations after dinner some evenings, when he’s not in the mood to play with his cards’

‘It’s not that I didn’t know you were friends. I just didn’t know you were so close’ She excused herself for not seeing it before.

‘I mean, there’s no way you could have known that until now, because you’ve only been here a couple of very intense weeks, but I hope it makes more sense now that it was me who delivered Louis’ letter to you that night, and why we share the music room to hide from the world...and also the fact that I’m walking next to you right now instead of any other person. He knew you needed space at that moment for whatever reason, but he wanted you to be safe as well. I didn’t promise AJ I’d keep you safe, only’

‘So...how close are you with Louis exactly?’ She dared to ask, letting him know immediately she wanted to know just how much information he had on her.

‘Close enough to know he has a ginormous crush on you’ He gracefully shot an arrow at a walker in the distance and turned his head to her to finish his sentence ‘And from what I’ve seen so far, I assume the feeling is mutual’

‘It’s a little more complicated than that...’ Clementine scratched her forehead, looking downwards, instantly regretting her question. Aasim approached the fallen monster, who was trying to crawl closer to them, and kicked him in the head. As he was busy taking a knife from his pocket to end the walker, another one made his way to the dirt road, limping hurriedly behind him.

‘Aasim, watch out!’ Clementine ran with difficulty in Louis’ coat, but made her way on time. She pushed the monster away and helped by her adrenaline rush, she drove her knife into his skull several times.

She stood up, panting and adjusting the coat

‘Thanks, Clem’ He managed to say breathlessly

‘Now you owe me again’ She helped him up and they continued their march towards the cabin.

‘So...things are complicated’ Aasim proposed the follow up with a rather hesitant voice. Clementine’s only response was a quiet tired sigh

‘I get it, too soon’

The skies were turning darker by the minute. They decided it was time to turn on Aasim’s flashlight.

‘Why don’t you tell me how you found out about Louis’ crush’ She suggested, trying to hide her conspicuous curiosity. He decided to play along.

‘I suspected it at first, but one day it slipped by him while we were arguing in the music room. He tried to brush it off and play it cool right after, but he was so flustered he couldn’t keep up with his lies and ended up talking about you for at least the following thirty minutes’

‘Seriously, thirty?’

‘Well, it stretched up to a little longer than an hour when he got comfortable. The day he wrote you the letter, he spent the whole afternoon at the piano with the piece of paper in front of him. After he finished writing, he wanted me to improve it, but I refused to read it. Whatever he wrote had to be a reflection of his own raw feelings for you. I didn’t want to ruin that with my own words’

Clementine didn’t say anything for a good five seconds, until Aasim shone the flashlight on her face, only to notice she was lost in thought and her face was bright red.

‘Knock it off, Aasim!’ She protested, dazzled by the blinding light

‘Sorry, sorry...hey, can you not tell Louis? I shouldn’t be telling you these things, but I wanted to cheer you up a little bit, since you’re having such a crazy day...’

Clementine’s eyes widened a little. It was refreshing to see Aasim trying to lighten up the mood. At times he resembled something similar to the older brother she never had.

The boy was trustful, but also good for a banter and they could learn from each other in a diverse amount of matters.

‘Thanks for your good intentions, but I might have oversimplified it when I mentioned my day was crazy before’

‘Well, duh…’ Clementine glanced at his friend ‘I don’t buy it’

‘What?’ She raised an eyebrow.

‘The story about the five walkers appearing out of nowhere and giving you trouble. I call bullshit on that’

‘We were attacked, that’s no bullshit’

‘Come on, you can easily deal with that amount of walkers. I’ve seen you fight together’ A hint of admiration decorated his words, to which Clementine scoffed modestly.

‘We had to run because we were outnumbered, what’s not to believe?’ She insisted, almost like a child

‘Shh, wait’ Aasim made her stop and pointed the flashlight at one side of the dirt road, suspicious of a couple of figures on the ground. Clementine remembered that spot. She had been there with Louis that very afternoon.

They took a couple of circumspect steps closer to the bodies. She recognized a familiar weapon at the distance and ran to pick it up.

‘Huh, only two walkers near Chairles. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?’ Aasim eyed at her with a sly smirk.

‘Alright, Mr. Detective. It wasn’t five walkers like we said before…but these two did get us by surprise’ She swung the leg chair idly as she looked at the smashed skull of the legless walker that threatened Louis’ life ‘We were...arguing’

Aasim’s playful expression faded slowly as Clementine showed more and more signs of being upset.

‘Clem, did Louis...do anything bad to you?’ Aasim’s halting words made her heart sink. ‘I mean, we joke that he’s an idiot but if he did something that he shouldn’t have done, then-’ She shook her head, trying to erase any mental images his assumption brought to her head.

‘Of course not! how could you even think that? he’s your friend!’

‘I’m sorry, it’s just, you know...you’re my friend too, and the world is so fucked up that you never know... ’ He quickly apologized as they started walking again. Clementine interrupted him once more.

‘He didn’t do anything wrong, he…I don’t think he would dare to do anything to hurt me…he has been so good to me and AJ and It would never cross my mind that he has second intentions’

‘I’m sorry for thinking about the possibility… I had to make sure’ he apologized once more. Clementine didn’t say a thing, so Aasim kept talking to avoid the much feared silence ‘But if you have real feelings for him, then I don’t know why you are so conflicted about…’

‘I never said I had feelings for him’ She tried to sound assertive but she stammered and instinctively hugged herself defensively, realizing once more it was Louis’ scent that didn’t let her think clearly.

‘So, I’m guessing the reason that you’re in his coat right now, and the reason he didn’t come for Chairles just to give you some space isn’t because you two shared a romantic moment alone in the woods and now that you’ve realized your true feelings about him, you don’t know what to do with your them’

‘Something like that…’ she didn’t want to admit that’s exactly how it went ‘How did you figure it out?’

‘I’ve been there…’ He mumbled. Clementine’s surprise and curiosity battled inside her mind

‘Wait, so you and Louis…?’

‘No! Oh, no..’ Aasim panicked ‘Nothing has ever happened with me and Louis, I can assure you that’

‘Because  if it has, then I d--’

‘Nothing. Has. Happened’ He emphasized ‘Besides, he the only thing he talks about lately is you, so...there’s that’

She tried not to direct the conversation to her feelings again

‘So, who’s this person that made you feel things that you didn’t know how to handle?’ Aasim opened his mouth, hesitant at first.

He looked at her; she was smiling at him mischievously. She had had such a tiring day, he might as well amuse her with more of his life. He looked ahead as he confessed what was in his heart

‘Ruby’

‘That’s so sweet’ Her smile widened as she shifted her look from him to the road ‘You two would make a very cute couple’

‘Thanks’ Aasim managed to mutter. Clementine thought maybe he really could understand what she was going through. Her follow up question came out slow and cautiously, testing the waters of their new growing friendship.

‘So have you two...kissed?’

He shook his head

‘I have only thought about it, but I’ve never actually dared to do it’ He admitted bashfully after some seconds.

‘Huh…’ Her soft smile slowly turned into a pensive frown. Maybe if she hadn’t dared like she did, things wouldn’t be so complicated between her and Louis.

‘So, there’s still some things that don’t match in your story’  Aasim’s observation burst her bubble

‘Hmm?’

‘Did you guys kiss back there where the two walkers were or at the cabin, while fishing? Both places seem plausible for such scenario...‘

‘What makes you think we kissed, we haven’t kissed…’ She blurted out her words almost violently, giving Aasim even more reason to maintain his theory on the matter. Unwillingly, her tone rose up considerably, like when she tried to convince Javi she and Gabe didn’t like each other, to no avail. Her voice tended to betray her like that at the most crucial times.

‘I could tell from his expression back then...something new happened to him, and since you both spent the whole afternoon together, it was safe to assume that you kissed’ Clementine raised an eyebrow skeptically ‘Also you just mentioned kissing, and judging by the way you phrased it, it must have been on your mind before this conversation.

‘How’s kissing something new to Louis? Not that we did kiss but... I’m curious’ It sure didn’t feel like Louis didn’t know what he was doing. There’s no way that was his very first kiss, she thought

‘He’s never kissed anyone’ Aasim confirmed ‘well, except for that one only time we played spin the bottle years ago, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the same experience’ He nudged her playfully, she shook her head, annoyed, but told herself to remember to ask him for that anecdote later. She had a more urgent question to ask.

‘His expression...what was it like?’ She gripped Chairles as Aasim answered.

‘I’ve only seen that face once; years ago, during a hunting trip...it was fear. Fear for the loss of a loved one. He was afraid he might lose you forever if nobody helped you’

‘What hunting trip, what happened?’

‘I’m really not the one to tell you that story…but it’s not a pretty one’ He mumbled grimly.

Clementine fell silent, letting his friend’s words sink in her mind. One of the things Louis told her right after their kiss was that he had nothing to lose. In which moment did he realize he was afraid of losing her? Who did he lose years ago?

She knew how cornered and confused she felt when Louis began questioning her reasons not to pursue a relationship with him, so she decided to let him tell her his life stories at his own pace.

‘Well, we’re here...’ Aasim stopped and pointed the flashlight around.

‘There’s no suspicious sounds or movements’ Clementine observed, following the light.

‘Don’t let your guard down’ He warned

She responded with a nod and walked closer to the abandoned spears, only then she remembered she had carelessly tossed hers at one moment. Aasim, on the other hand was content that they had enough food for the following day

‘Nice job, Clem…’ He cheered , taking a closer look at the bucket ‘How did you manage to catch all these fish?’

‘Louis helped a lot’ She shrugged

‘Really? He must be very invested in fishing’ He joked, but his friend was not amused ‘I’m sorry’

‘I didn’t want to scare him, you know...’ She fidgeted as Aasim cocked his head slightly to the side, listening attentively ‘I just think I felt an overload of thoughts and sensations I’ve never felt before and didn’t know what to do with myself, that’s why I ran back to the school, like a coward. If I knew things would get this complicated, I wouldn’t have kissed him in the first place’

‘That’s strange’ He chuckled, to Clementine’s surprise. He helped her put the tools back in the cabin ‘All this time I thought Louis was the one that kissed you, not the other way around’

She couldn’t help but chuckle along, recalling the few weird seconds Louis spent looking at her before she dared made a move.

‘He froze’

Aasim couldn’t believe her words. Louis, the usually charming, easy going dude that literally never shut up, froze before Clementine. He’d pay a big sum of money just to travel back in time and space and witness that.

‘Really?’

She nodded, amused.

‘But like I said, after we kissed, everything changed’ Her smiled slowly turned into a worried smirk ‘I never imagined I could feel the way I felt at that moment’

She felt her cheeks go warmer once more at her declaration.

They walked out the cabin and closed the door. As Clementine walked down the steps, she remembered there was one thing she hadn’t found yet.

She snatched the flashlight from Aasim’s hands and ran to the last place she remembered she saw her hat.

She found it a few steps far from the riverside, probably blown by the wind, but still dirty and forgotten. She ran towards the worn out accessory, picked it up, shook it a few times to remove the dust.

‘I see you got your priorities straight’ Aasim walked closer to her, with the bucket full of fish in his left hand.

‘Shut up’ She laughed as she put it on, exchanged Aasim’s flashlight for Chairles and then began their walk back to the school.

‘There must be an interesting story behind that old thing’ he suggested. She knew by now he loved a good a story.

‘This old thing keeps me sane. It helps me remember all the important lessons I’ve learned over the years since I was a little kid’

‘It’s cool to realize how some ordinary objects hold so much emotional power over us. Like your hat, it looks like any other baseball hat to me, but of course to you it means so much more’

Clementine nodded agreeingly

‘My dad gave it to me before the world changed forever’ She paused to rethink her words ‘Well, he didn’t actually give it to me, but it’s the only thing that belonged to him that I still have with me. The only thing that reminds me of my parents the way they used to look like...and not the way I last saw them. This hat has traveled the same amount of miles, seen the same horrible things, and people I loved risked their lives for it when it got lost’

‘Well, fuck’ Aasim sighed, overwhelmed

‘Yeah, how’s that for a book?’

‘You know, that’s actually not a bad idea...!’ He glanced at her, actually considering it

‘I was joking, Aasim’  She shook her head, regretting that she indulged him with stories that were yet to be told. It was too late, he was already scheming and drafting in his mind.

‘I mean, you have all kinds of anecdotes, right? You have been on the road for years and visited places we have never seen before. We should sit down and try to write a couple of paragraphs. Personally, it helps. I always feel at ease once I finish writing my day. Maybe it would do you well, too. Give it a chance, if you don’t like it, then you can stop anytime’

‘You know what, it could work’ She mumbled, almost lost in her own thoughts.

There were moments she would like to treasure forever; like the day she met Lee, and saved him from her babysitter, all the things she learned from him along the way and all the people she met during the few months they spent as a family; especially Kenny, Katjaa and their son Duck.

She often found herself daydreaming about what Duck would look like, and how he would be like if he had never been bitten. Maybe if she put those thoughts into written words, then she would stop thinking so much about it.

She would love to tell AJ’s story, from how she met his parents to the present day, with all the details in between, including all the people who help them get to where they were now. She wouldn’t dare to leave out the first time he cried in Kenny’s arms. He had such powerful lungs for someone so little. She wouldn’t forget to write about the first time he fussed in her arms, either; no matter how many times she had told him that story already. Every time she’d finished saying ‘and in that moment, I realized how special you were to me and I’d love you forever, no matter what.’ She could tell that was AJ’s favorite bit. She was sure Javi would have loved teaching him to play baseball, and AJ would have loved to play baseball with him. And while Gabe wasn’t around anymore, she wanted to tell the little boy about Javi’s dorky nephew who taught her the obscure rules of Euchre. The book would make a nice birthday present for him, and he would use the blank pages to write or doodle whatever he wanted.

Of course, not all of her memories were pleasant. Actually, most of them were just the opposite.

Their adventures with the New Frontier and then the McCarroll ranch and all the nightmares that came with them would make up a horror book on its own. Honestly, she had something to fit almost every genre.

Aasim’s voice sounded in the background but she couldn’t distinguish any words.

‘Huh, what did you say?’

‘I said that you need to fix your dilemma with Louis first’ His tone changed into a stern one in half a second ‘I don’t want to see him suffer, Clem, so before you talk to him, you need to know exactly what you want’

‘Ok...’ Her mood dropped along with his voice.

‘Besides, you can’t write with a head full of confusion, so right after you solve your mess with him and you lovebirds finally get together, we get down to business. Literary business, that is’ He offered her half a smile, just to let her know it wasn’t his intention for his last words to come out mean or aggressive.

Suddenly, a wind blow from the south breathed through the dirt road, producing a  shiver that took her already algid body by surprise.

‘We better hurry. You must be freezing’ Aasim observed with concern. She nodded, tightening her fingers around Chairles as an instinctive response to the cold air against her skin. She clenched her jaw as an effort to stop her teeth from chattering, but it was futile.

They hurried their steps and kept silent for some minutes.

‘We can’t get together, because I don’t like him’ She muttered softly. She tried to convince herself of the last statement by repeating it over and over in the form of a whisper, like a mantra she knew was a complete lie

‘Why deny it? The world already ended. It’s not like something worse is going to happen right after you realized you have feelings for him’

‘I have been on the road enough time to know that something terrible will happen if I let my emotions drive my actions. It’s not that I don’t like him...but I can’t. You wouldn’t get it…’

‘I know I have lived pretty much my entire life sheltered and I can’t possibly imagine all you have gone through, but I also know that staying true to your feelings is not the same as letting your emotions control every aspect of your life’

‘Yeah, maybe you’re right’ She was the one to offer him a weak apologetic smile now ‘That was nice advice, thanks’

They walked a little longer until Aasim heard the rattling of leaves behind them. He pointed the light to the source of the noise, only to find three walkers slowly limping their way out of the woods and into the road.

‘Hold this, point it at them’ He gave her the flashlight, put down the bucket and readied his bow to get rid of the incoming menace.

He was too focused shooting to notice a fourth walker approaching them from the opposite direction. He was mostly flesh and bones, but he was quicker than the rest

Clementine planted the flashlight in the ground for Aasim and ran to the stray walker, knocking him over with a strike of Chairles at the chest. Once down, she crushed his skull by beating him repeatedly with the wooden weapon.

‘Need any help?’ She rushed to his friend, ready to attack but he was already retrieving the three arrows he had used to get rid of the walkers. She stood in earnest admiration ‘You...decked three walkers by yourself…just like that?’ He turned to face her and gave her a tired smile in the middle of the duskiness.

You didn’t know I had it in me, did you?’

‘I’m actually really impressed’ They laughed, picked up the flashlight, the bucket and continued making their way to the school.

They walked for a while until they finally spotted the first traps hanging from the trees, welcoming them to the school surroundings.

‘We’re almost there, just a little further’ Aasim announced ‘Please, remember what I told you about Louis...and remember not to disclose anything I told you...’

‘You have given me a lot to think about, Aasim...and of course I won’t say a word to anyone about your little crush on Ruby

‘You just mentioned it’

‘I mean, starting now’

‘Just remember, Louis is an outstanding person when he wants to be, although he prefers to act stupid at times...and I think the same of you’

Clem raises an eyebrow

‘You think I am stupid?’

‘I think you choose to act stupid’ Clem shook her head, letting him know that wasn’t making it any better ‘...not always, though’ he added quickly ‘I’m just saying, you seem to love drowning in a glass of water’

‘I don’t think you can say that to me when you can’t even bring yourself to tell Ruby how you feel’

‘Can you please stop mentioning her? This is about you!’

‘Fine, fine…’

‘Look. You’ll know what to do. You’re a smart person and the music room will be always open for you to come and write your tales of horror, or whatever it is you want out of your mind’

‘I thought I had to tell you and you would write’

‘If I did that, I wouldn’t be helping you, now would I?’ He shook his head ‘No, if you want, I could read what you write and give you notes on what to improve. The mood of each story needs to be drenched in your own experiences and nobody can do that for you’

‘Thank you, for everything’ She gave him a warm, sincere smile, which he returned spontaneously.

Soon after, they found themselves in the clear, amongst the traps. In the distance, Aasim could see Mitch and Violet, probably keeping the area free of walkers until they arrive. He signaled them with the flashlight and they were met halfway.

‘You made it back’ Violet told Clementine, relieved.

‘We had some encounters, but it’s all good’ She answered, walking next to her

‘How did it go?’ Mitch asked. Aasim gave him the bucket of fish in response.

‘We’ll have a good dinner’ He smiled. Violet and Mitch shared a look

‘Everyone else ate already’ Violet told them

‘Well, not really everyone…’ Mitch added ‘Violet and I had dinner before coming here, but Louis and AJ refused to eat until you guys showed up’

Aasim glanced over at Clementine but she didn’t look back at him.

When they arrived at the gates, Clementine heard her name from above, but she couldn’t see anyone standing in the watchtower, she could only distinguished two different silhouettes moving in the dark.

AJ went  down the ladder as fast as a bullet, eager to greet the girl. As soon as they crossed the gate, he tackled her and she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug as the rest of the teenagers gathered around Omar to ask for their share of food, complaining to Aasim about how long it took him and Clem to get back. The kid made their embrace last long enough to worry Clementine. He didn’t want to let go and she knew exactly what she did for him to act that way.

‘I’m sorry I yelled at you before’ She apologized gently ‘It wasn’t your fault’

‘I’m glad you’re back. Are you... safe?’

‘No bites’ She assured him smiling, and nodded the group ‘Aasim helped me get back fast’

‘Not fast enough…’ He mumbled almost bitterly ‘But I’m happy he helped you’

They stood up and walked closer to the benches

‘He’s great! He had already killed three walkers by the time I finished fighting just one with Louis’ chair leg’

‘Chairles’ AJ corrected, Clementine rolled her eyes, amused.

‘Right, right... Chairles. This thing is heavy and hard to use...But you should have seen Aasim with his bow’

‘I could have, but you didn’t let me’

‘Come on, kiddo, I apologized’

‘Yeah’ He laughed ‘But I’ll rub it in your face whenever I get the chance’

‘Oh really…? Then I’ll make sure that the tickle monster visits you every time you bring it up’

‘You know what? Nevermind’ AJ sat in one of the benches, apart from the rest. He wanted to eat with Clementine alone, and she was well aware of it, from the length of their hug back at the gates.

‘Don’t sit down just yet, go get our plates, I have to give this back to his owner’ She pointed at Chairles.

‘But I just sat…’ AJ grumbled under his breath..

‘Come on, I’m tired too’ She noticed him trying his best to hold back his attitude.

‘Okay’ He finally sighed, standing up again.

As he walked closer to the older kids, Clementine approached Louis with caution. He was sitting at a different table, eating alone.

‘Hey’ She greeted softly. As soon as he looked up at her, she looked down at her hands.

‘Hey’ He smiled, despite her evasive eyes ‘It was about time you guys showed up’

She put Chairles on the table.

‘I… brought it back’ He moved his eyes from the weapon to her uneasy stance. He noticed she was still wearing his coat, but didn’t mention it. She looked adorable like that, and as far as he was concerned, that was the opposite of a problem. Besides, she probably still needed it more than him.

‘Thanks, Clem…’ He breathed his words of gratefulness as he reached for her fingertips as a subtle reminder of his unchanging feelings towards her.

As soon as she felt his hand touching hers, her heart fluttered and she took a step back.

‘You’re welcome. I have to go’ She turned around as quickly as she spoke. He didn’t care, because he knew that deep down she felt the same.

‘I’ll see ya around’ He raised his voice to be heard in the increasing distance. Her answer was a look back and a vague waving of her hand.  He was enraptured by her whole existence and the way she tried to act around him now, like they never lived all those meaningful moments in such a short amount of time.

‘Welcome back’ AJ smiled while scraping the sides of his bowl with a spoon ‘You took your time, I almost ate your food’ Clementine sat down in front of the boy, taking in the whole scene with raised eyebrows.

‘AJ! You didn’t wait for me? You ate all your food already...and I was gone for two minutes!’

‘I was hungry’ He protested, pouting ‘...I still am’

‘I know, I know…’ She had to remind herself to use her kind words.

‘I’m sorry, Clem’ He insisted, looking at her with his big eyes. She couldn’t resist his puppy eyes, and finally smiled at him.

‘AJ…‘ She began ‘About what happened today...I wasn’t mad at you at all, I was just…’

‘Don’t worry Clem, I know what happened’

‘You do?’ She froze with the spoon midway to her mouth

‘Yeah, Louis told me everything’

‘He did? Everything?’

AJ nodded enthusiastically. She panicked inside. How could Louis do such a thing?

‘Yeah, he told me he had to save you from a river shark after you fell into the river while fighting against five walkers that attacked you while you were fishing and that’s why you were cranky’

Of all the things that happened that day, that was the only sentence she didn’t expect to hear.

‘Excuse me AJ, I wasn’t listening...did you just say a shark?’

‘Yeah, he told me the whole name, even... but I can’t remember...it was uh, a great white river shark, I think, I’m not sure’ He explained as she glanced back at Louis, who was now accompanied by Aasim.

‘Yes, that’s exactly what happened’ She sentenced, focusing her attention back to her meal and hoping AJ wouldn’t ask further questions.

‘It was a very hard day for you’ He observed sympathetically

‘It kinda was…’ She agreed with a faint smile ‘How was your day, what did you do while I was gone?’

‘I spent the whole evening with Louis. He was walking around and I saw him while I was on lookout duty, I said hi to him and he offered to keep me company. It was nice, we talked about a lot of  things’

‘I’m glad you had fun, kiddo’

AJ waited for her to finish her food. As soon as she stood up to clean, he took the bowls from her

‘Let me, you are more tired’ He ran away to wash the dishes before she could even answer.

She sat down again, unable to hide her surprise. She looked back at the boys at the next table. Aasim was finishing his food and Louis was tweaking and cleaning Chairles. They didn’t seem to be talking about anything in particular. She prayed they weren’t talking about her.

As she turned her head, she saw AJ running back to her

‘What do you want to do now?’ She told him, ready to indulge him with a whole hour of doodling if he wanted.

‘I want to go to bed. I’m beat…’ He admitted.

‘Oh, then...in that case, let’s go’

They started walking back to the dorms. AJ took her hand, taking her by surprise once again. She tightened her hand around his, as a way to reassure him everything was alright.

Clementine opened the big door to their room and AJ ran straight to his bed.

‘Clem…’

‘Yes, AJ?’ She sat down beside the little boy, already knowing what he was going to request.

‘Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?’

‘Of course...what will it be tonight? A story or a song?’ She asked as she cuddled him in a motherly fashion.

‘I just want you to be here…You don’t need to do or say anything’

She caressed his cheeks with the back of her hand, deeply endeared by his words

‘I’m here now’ She said softly as she watched him close his eyes.

The room felt enormous when it was pitch black and silent, but the warmth that they gave to each other gave them a sense of safety and hope for the future.

‘Clem…?’  

His quiet call caught her dozing off

‘Hm?’

‘I was afraid today’ She held her breath ‘I wasn’t there to make sure you came back. I thought you...I wouldn’t know what to do if you died...’

‘Hush, now’ Her voice lowered as soon as she heard herself in his voice ‘You know exactly what to do if something bad happens to me and I’ve prepared you to go on without me eventually. We’ve discussed this a thousand times’ His upset silence let her know once more what his opinion on her backup plan was  ‘I know it’s not a pleasant conversation to have, but I need to be sure you’ll know what to do in every possible scenario, starting with the possibility of us separating again, maybe forever’

‘I guess…’

‘Alvin Junior…’ She warned

‘I know, Clem, I know…’ He huffed, turning on the bed to face the wall

Clementine sighed and tried to choose her next words more carefully to avoid upsetting the boy even more, but before she could even open her mouth to answer, he broke silence once more.

‘Can we stop talking about this, please?’ His lips quivered as he spoke, fighting back honest tears of embarrassment ‘I just wanted to let you know how I felt about you leaving...’

She felt him sniffle and cry silent tears in the dark. Her first reaction was to hold him tight to comfort him just like she used to do when he was just a small baby in the midst of the constantly decaying world.

‘I’m sorry…’ She kissed the back of his head ‘It won’t happen again’

‘I love you Clem’ He wiped away his tears, regaining control of himself.

‘I love you back’ She whispered her usual response ‘Try and rest…’

He remained silent for several minutes, lost in his many grim thoughts and the secretes he shared with Louis in Clementine’s absence.

‘You smell funny’ He yawned before finally giving in to his exhaustion.

‘Well, that’s a weird way to end an argument…’ She muttered to the already sleeping boy.

She closed her eyes for several minutes, basking in the unusual peace that the silence brought along with the deep darkness of the night. She waited to fall asleep, but some thoughts were still running wild inside her mind. She made sure AJ was fast asleep and sat up on the bed to make a final reflection on everything lived during the day. She looked down at herself and immediately remembered she was wearing a certain piece of clothing that didn’t belong to her; the only thing that AJ clearly couldn’t recognize as hers.

She held the lapels, brought them closer to her face and inhaled. It did smell funny. A mixture of smoke and the usual mustiness that was ever present in old clothes. Years of having to change her attire due to her constantly developing body had made her grow accustomed of that smell. However, there was one distinctive scent she couldn’t quite recognize; it was slightly citric, but also had a slight hint of spices; a rare combination for such an old coat. Not that she complained. It‘s very Louis, she thought, breathing in again, recalling every pleasant memory she had with him.

She looked over at AJ, thinking it wouldn’t hurt to leave him for a couple of minutes to return the borrowed garment.

She lit the candle and made her way out of the room quietly, trying not to bump into anything in the half dark space.

She carefully closed the sturdy door and made her way to Louis’ room, thinking over and over about all the pros and cons that came along as consequences of her actions. Every step she walked closer to him, she convinced herself it was a good idea to leave her deeply rooted fears behind, stop acting like a feeble kid and let new adventures find them as the strong team she knew they were.

She stopped in front of a big wooden door, hoping it was the correct one.

She didn’t knock. Instead, she opened the door slightly and slided in as quietly as she could. She walked closer, making sure he was alone.

The room was a complete mess, at least as far as she could see. She looked for him in the darkness and found him sleeping sprawled on one of the beds with his face buried in the pillows. Smiling at the scene, she stepped closer, but tripped over Chairles, making Louis jolt awake.

‘Huh, wha-who’s there?’ He tried to look around with his eyes still half closed.

‘Shh, don’t yell…’ She whispered, leaving the candle on his desk ‘It’s me, Clementine’

‘Clem!’

In his state between dream and reality, he tried to stand up without stepping out of the bunk bed and hit himself in the head with the frame.

The sound of his forehead hitting the metal structure made Clementine cringe and rush next to him

‘Ah, fuck fuck fuck…’ He swore, curling up in pain with his eyes shut close as he pressed his hands against his forehead.

‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…let me see’ She climbed on the bed to move his hands away and press her fingers against his now tender forehead, trying to measure the damage taken.

‘Ow, ow...careful…’

‘That’s going to look really ugly if we don’t apply cold right now’ She observed.

‘Don’t worry I’m going to look like a unicorn no matter what…it’s not the first time this happens, but it always hurts’  He said, sitting up again to face her

‘What do you mean it’s not the first time it happens?’

He shrugged, making her glance at his freckled shoulders. She thought her day was already done with these little surprises, but she was clearly wrong.

‘I’m a light sleeper, it actually happens more often that I’d like to admit’

‘You sleep shirtless…’ She looked away, notoriously blushing

‘What?’ He looked down at himself ‘Oh…yeah, I do’ He reached over and grabbed the tattered shirt that was sitting next to his pillow

‘I’m sorry I came here so late’ She apologized without taking her eyes off the flickering candle

‘Time is never a problem when it comes to you’ He said, trying to sound smooth as he struggled to slide into his clothes in the dark.

She giggled, no longer being able to pretend she wasn’t fascinated by his sleepy voice or his shoulders specked with freckles all over.

‘I’m here to give you back this old thing’ She stood up, took off the old coat and handed it over to Louis ‘By the way, it’s super hard to run in it’

‘That’s because it’s not made for tiny girls’

‘You’re the worst’ She laughed

He looked down at it, then back at her and without taking her gaze off of her, he threw it behind him

‘Thank you’ He smiled, well aware she wasn’t there just for that. He stood up in front of her ‘I see you have your hat back, too’

‘I do, how perceptive of you’

Louis took it off of her and put it on his head. She didn’t protest. She wore his stupid coat the whole day, it was only fair to let him try the hat on for a couple of minutes, at least.

‘How do I look?’ He smiled

‘I like your hair up, better than trapped in a hat’ She admitted, taking the old accessory off of him and tossing it over his coat.

He appreciated her tender honesty, smiling at her.

‘Well, I have my coat back, you have your hat back...is there anything else to be said between us?’

Clementine crossed her arms  and narrowed her eyes at him.

‘OK, fine...I think there are still some unsaid things since this afternoon’

‘I agree’  He smiled triumphantly ‘So...what’s going on in that head of yours?’

Clementine gulped and sighed, trying to remain as calm as she could.

‘I think I’m ready to face my fears head on…’

‘My darling Clem...I’m concussed and I just woke up…’ He faked a frown ‘Can you be a little more clear?’

She closed her eyes, this time to gather some patience. She knew he had understood her well.

‘What I’m trying to say is that I want to give us a chance’

His face lit up but still played along

‘But when you say give us a chance, you mean…?’

She rolled her eyes and leaned over to kiss him. He breathed in through his nose at the surprisingly warm touch of her lips. As she pulled back, she could see him looking at her with joyful beaming eyes. He held her hand in his and this time she didn’t back away. Instead, she let him lead her beside him. She studied him longingly as she put one of his dreadlocks behind his ear and cupped his cheek ever so gently, just like he did to her back at the river. He closed his eyes as she ran a single finger across his freckles, tracing the form of his nose and his eyebrows.

He opened his eyes again and to his amusement, he found her lost in his features. ‘You’re so beautiful…’ She whispered as he pulled her closer and brushed his mouth against her lower lip.

‘Right back at ya’ He smiled against her skin, receiving her soft pecks across his jaw line.

It was nice to feel cherished that way, with just the right amount of passion, alone and away from the crumbling world.

She put her head on his shoulder and sighed against his neck, giving him goosebumps all over.

‘I have to go back…’ She murmured glumly

‘What’s your rush, Cinderella?’ He hummed while running his fingers through her hair‘It’s not midnight, yet’

‘It’s way past midnight and,besides... promised AJ I’d be there’

‘Well, he is asleep, right?’

‘He’s actually a very light sleeper...Just like you’

‘Come on, Clem…’ He pleaded softly, kissing the corner of her mouth ‘Stay a little longer?’

‘I’m sorry…If you want, you can come over and keep me company while I watch over him’ She stood up and took the candle from the desk. He rested his back on the wall, considering her offer.

Just as she turned around, the door opened.

‘Hi, Louis...I can’t find Clem...have you seen her?’  AJ peeked over, but they could only identify his worried voice

‘Hey, little dude…’ He waved, smiling kindly at the boy like he always did..

‘I’m here, kiddo’ Clementine put the candle back on the desk and sat on the bed in the same position as Louis, patting the space between them, as an invitation to join them.

‘Clem! I woke up and you weren’t there’ He frowned as he climbed on and sat in between Louis and her ‘You promised me you wouldn’t leave again’

‘Funny how she never stays in one place, huh…’ Louis eyed her over the little boy, making her shake her head. AJ welcomed the joke with a small chortle.

‘Sorry, goofball…I wanted to return Louis’ coat, since you complained that it smelled funny’

‘Hey, I resent that’ He nudged at the kid, playfully.

‘I for one, think it doesn’t smell as bad as it looks, but buddy here confessed he didn’t like it just as he was falling asleep’

‘I don’t remember doing that’ AJ crossed his arms

‘The funny smell could be a perfume I found years ago in the headmaster’s office. I liked how it smelled, so I kept it...and I wear it..you know, in rare occasions. It makes me feel good about myself’ He confessed ‘Don’t tell anyone though...if anyone found out, I’d have to kick you out in a second, and I don’t any of us would like that very much’

The three of them laughed at the slim possibility of that ever happening.

‘I think you’d miss us too much, and would go look for us right after’

‘And I’d have to save you from hordes of walkers’

‘Yeah, right, you saving me...’

AJ didn’t understood at all the small banter between them, but wanted to contribute to the conversation as well

‘Like when he saved you from the five walkers and the great white river shark, remember, Clem?  He interjected enthusiastically.

‘You saved me from the shark and all of the walkers…? I actually forgot about that!’ She spout sarcastically with her eyes fixed on his.

He shrugged apologetically as AJ kept on talking

‘That’s maybe because you’re too tired Clem, we should go back to sleep’ He got down the bed and held the girl’s hand.

‘You’re right, AJ’ She reached for her hat and followed him ‘Maybe a little rest will make my memory better’

‘Wait, guys’ Louis stopped them on their way out ‘Do you wanna crash here for the night?’

‘Really, we can stay here?’ AJ’s smiled bloomed instantly as he looked at Clementine. He made little to no effort to hide his admiration towards the freckled young man.

‘Sure you can, little dude! Climb aboard!’

The boy ran back to the bed and lay down, already closing his eyes to sleep. Louis  laid his jacket over AJ before looking up at his beloved girl.

‘What say you, Queen Clementine?’ He acted out with his arm extended to her as AJ encouraged him with another small giggle ‘Are you in?’

‘Okay…’ She blew out the small light of the candle ‘If it makes him so happy to waste his time with you…’ She took his hand and lay down next to AJ.

‘Some might say he’s not the only one who likes to waste his time with me’ He lovingly interlocked his fingers with hers into a relaxed lace, cuddling the boy as he peacefully drifted into the land of dreams. They stared into each other’s eyes, under the poor lighting offered by the growing moon through the semi boarded window. Clementine was the second to fall asleep, soon after AJ.

Louis remained awake as long as his body allowed him, wondering what he did to get such incredible company that night. That was the best the three of them had slept in months.