#also practically made her set up a nail appointment she’s been putting off because of helping me move in this weekend tomorrow

[heartual]

heyyyyy

[my-tin-can-mans]

Pretty Nails

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddies insists on tagging along to the nail salon with you.

Notes: So yeah, that little thought I had? Decided to write a four-page sickening fluff to it. Also, if the salon ladies' names seem oddly familiar, I was watching bobs burgers while writing this.

Warnings: Fluff that's all it is. (what no angst? that's surprising for me). some sexual situations and implications to smut so minors DNI.

____

“Alright, Eds, I gotta go. I have a nail appointment in 20,” you said, leaping off his bed from your previous spot. You turned back to look at him for a beat before searching for your shoes that had been haphazardly taken off the moment you stepped into his room earlier today, only to see him with a childish pout against his lips. You giggle in response. 

“That’s not fair,” he said, “I barely got to see you all week between you working at the family video and those projects you’ve been working on. I missed you, and now you're leaving?”

“To be fair, you should've been working on the project too for Ms. O’Donnell’s class, and it's not my fault you were daydreaming about me instead,” he raised his eyebrows at your sass, “and it's also not all my fault that we barely got to see each other, you had a hellfire meeting that lasted two hours over the usual time last night, could've spent all night with me if not.” 

It was Saturday, and every last Saturday of the month was spent at the nail salon. He knew that, but every time throughout the whole year you two have been dating, he put up a fit that you couldn’t spend that time with him. Although he would never really complain because he loved how excited you got when you showed him the new set you had put on, and not that he would ever tell you, but he secretly loved the way you raked the fresh sharp nails down his back while he was pounding into you, it made him hot just thinking about it. He also loved to see whatever pretty color you got wrapped around his cock, your dainty hands barely wrapping all the way around him. So yeah, although Eddie complained about you being gone for a little while during his usually planned time to spend with you, he would never truly be upset that you got your nails done. 

He frowned at your reasonings. Jutting his lower lip out even more in a cartoonish pout now, “baby,” he whined, “can you reschedule till next week? I wanna spend all day with you.” 

You shook your head adorningly at him. “I can't just reschedule; im a regular, and they practically expect me. You know, if you wanna complain about not being with me so much, you can just tag along.” 

His face lit up at the suggestion, and you were almost shocked at that. Sure he was clingy sometimes, but you couldn't imagine him ever wanting to come to a nail salon with you. He'd stick out like a sore thumb. Not only that but there wasn't much for him to do for him there besides sit by you. He was so energetic and bored so quickly that he’d probably start complaining after the first ten minutes. 

“Can I really come?” he asked. 

“Sure,” you shrugged, sitting down on the bed after finding your shoes to put them on. You figured he was just bluffing. He’d drive you there, change his mind and then drop you off. 

So you can imagine your surprise when the bell on the door to the salon rang while you stepped through with the metalhead puppy-dog trailing your heel. The girl who usually did your nails perked up from her spot behind her table. 

“Oh honey, it's so great to see you. Come, sit down,” she spoke, gesturing to you with her hand, not noticing the man attached at your hip yet. That was until you sat down in your chair, and Eddie just stood behind you, not knowing what to do. 

“Lousie, this is Eddie. He wanted to tag along today.” you nodded your head back to him while giving her a knowing smirk. 

Her face lit up. She knew all about Eddie. What else were you supposed to do but gossip for 40 minutes a month with the same girl? Of course, you also talked about her relationships. She had two kids and was in the dating pool, so she always had a crazy story between the two. “Oh, very nice to meet you here,” she said, gesturing to the table beside you that was thankfully empty, “you can sit at Tina’s booth for now. She’s out on lunch and doesn’t have another client coming for an hour.” 

As Eddie went to sit down in the chair beside you, Louise looked at you, mouthing he's cute to you while wiggling her eyebrows. You giggled in response. “Alright, honey, here's the colors. You know the drill. You make up your mind while I get this set filed and ready.” She handed you the ring with the samples of every color on them. 

Before you could pick it up off the desk, though, a ringed hand was snatching it out of your view. You turned your head to see Eddie curiously looking at the swatches. He flipped through them with focused attention you only ever saw when he was planning a DnD campaign or re-reading lord of the rings. When his gaze glanced over at you, though, you raised a brow questioningly. 

He gave you the same look he had earlier when he asked if he actually could tag along, “can I pick?” he asked. Your eyebrows rose in shock. Surely he didn't actually care what color you got put on your nails. 

“Sure, but no black or red  Eds.” you smriked. Those were his favorite colors. There was no way he would want to pick out any other color, “it’s still summer. I wanna bright warm color to match.” It was late September, basically fall already, but it was still a little warm outside, and while you liked his taste in music, and you liked the way he dressed, you had always been a bit more girly girl. That was alright, though. He loved to see the little sundresses you wore when it has hot out. He also loved to find you in a def leopard shirt and ripped jeans. He wasn't picky, really. 

“Okay,” he said, focusing his attention back on the swatches, “I can do that.” 

Your mouth hung open at his response. And when you turned back to Louise, she had a knowing smirk on her face.  You rolled your eyes, just your luck. Here you thought you were gonna get to have some relaxing time and gossip a little, but instead, you're stuck with whatever funky color Eddie decided to choose because you can’t say no to him and no gossiping because said gossip would've been about him and well, he's sitting right beside you, and you couldn’t gossip about anything else because well let’s face it, Eddie didn’t know how to keep a secret so if you told Louise the fact that Steve had practically tripped over himself when you handed him a stack of adult films to start rewinding in the back, you knew that Eddie would never let Steve hear the end of it the next time you all hung out. 

But apparently, this day was just shock after shock from Eddie because when Lousie had finished filing off the old color and filling the gaps, she turned to Eddie to ask for the color he picked, grinning. “Alright, hun, what lovely color have you picked out for your equally lovely girl,” she said teasingly. 

He mirrored her smirk, holding up a single swatch and handing it to her. She looked at it, her smirk growing in size. “Ah, you did good, hun, perfect summer color.” she sat it down, getting up for a moment to grab the color. You snatched the swatch to look at what color he chose, it was going on our nails, and you were the last one to see it. 

It was… a very good choice. A warm peachy pink color. Perfect for summer and also great for going into fall. When you looked back at him, he was wearing the smug smirk still, and it made you want to scoff. How dare he be able to pick out the perfect color? You shook your head at him, and he laughed. 

Somewhere along the line, Tina had come back from grabbing lunch and was now sitting at her desk on the other side of Eddie. While you were busy listening to Louise talk about the date she had recently gone on, Tina and Eddie were chatting off to the side as well. You weren't really paying attention. You were just glad he was occupied enough not to start complaining, also glad that Tina seemed to be enjoying his company too and not annoyed someone was sitting in front of her while she was off the clock. 

“Alright, hun,” Lousie said, pushing your hand back to you, “60 seconds in the lamp, and you’re all good to go.” 

You placed your hand in the LED lamp, waiting for the gel to cure. When you looked over to let Eddie know you were almost done, his hand was in Tina’s, and she was brushing paint onto them. Your jar dropped. It wasn't that Eddie wearing polish was a new thing. He painted them every once in a while with a cheap bottle he got from the drug store. But seeing him with his hand perched up on the table chatting as you did with Lousie was definitely a little different. Not only that, but he was having Tina, who was supposed to be on her break, doing them. 

“Eds,” you said sternly, “she's on break. Why do you have her painting your nails!” 

He frowned at your words, “she offered.” he said, looking like a scolding puppy who just peed on a rug. 

Before you could reprimand him anymore, Tina spoke up, “it's fine, hun, I did offer, and I wouldn’t if I wasn’t okay with it, plus hes nicer than most of my clients and not as picky either.” she giggled, handing him his hand back to put under the lamp. 

Your mouth continued to hang open. Taking your hand out of the lamp after it beeped at you, you shifted focus and stood up, and grabbed your purse to pay. Once again, Eddie snatched it out of your hands from where he was sitting. 

“Nuh uh, princess, don’t even think about it. I’m paying for both of us today.” he winked at you, grabbing his wallet from his pocket with the hand that wasn’t curing under the lamp at the moment. 

“Eds, that’s really sweet, but you don't have to,” you said. He shook his head. 

“Of course I do, gotta spoil my girl somehow.” you gave him a halfhearted eyeroll that he knew you didn't really mean smiling while doing so. 

His hand finished curing, and he popped up, thanking Tina and searching through his wallet while you both walked to the front to pay. 

When you got back to Eddie’s trailer, he insisted on doting over your new nails. “Come on, you gonna show me your new set like you always do,” he said, taking your hand already to inspect them, “wow, princess, such a pretty color. Who picked that out?” he teased. 

He kissed your fingers, murmuring a so pretty again. He kissed up your arm, all the up to your neck. “Think we need to test them out though.” he mumbled into your neck, leaving a wet trailing of kisses all the way up to your mouth as well. 

“What do you mean?” you said, pulling back a bit to see his whole face. At your words a devilish grin appeared on his face. 

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean,” he said, pushing you back to lay fully on his bed. It was safe to say that after the night was over, Eddie was welcome to tag along to the nail salon with you anytime. 

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Allurement: The Invitation

Yandere Namjoon x Reader

(Y/N) frowned as soon as an envelope with a beautiful wax seal arrived early in the morning. It was an invitation pass for an exclusive event that was to be held the next day. But what had left her utterly surprised when she found her employer's name written on it along with her. (Y/N) was supposed to accompany Kim Namjoon to the event. She had no clue regarding the event, besides, Mr Kim had not even spoken to her regarding accompanying him in any such event. As if sensing her bafflement, her phone lit into light and began to ring- it was her employer. Not wasting another moment, she picked up the call-

"Good morning, Sir,"

"Good morning (Y/N), I believe you have received the invitation pass, I just received mine." his morning voice was a bit hoarse, felt deeper like rich, creamy chocolate that could melt her

"Yes, Sir, but I had no clue regarding this."

"Yes, yes, it was a sudden event, I need a date to accompany me and I was not prepared either, so I put your name, hope you do not mind, (Y/N). It's alright if you are busy I can change the name."

"No, Sir. I am not busy. Do not worry, I will be ready tomorrow. The pass has the address."

"Do not worry about it, I will come to pick you up. And I will send Jimin with a gown for tomorrow's event. See you tomorrow." with that, the call came to an end.

Her cheeks warmed slightly at his words. She knew that he had only chosen her because she was the quickest option, but that could not prevent her foolish heart from fluttering, especially when he was having a dress sent to her and was coming to pick her up himself. She would be a true fool to think that it was anything beyond a professional commitment. And that made her eyes sting slightly. But she knew that she needed to be practical. They were worlds apart after all, and she was supposed to never cross certain professional boundaries. And the best way to make her heart was to thrust the bitter truth upon it, again and again, until it accepted and was ready to move on.

-----

Jimin had arrived with a dress, it was the most beautiful evening gown she had ever set her eyes on, the material was soft to touch and it seemed to move with her, almost fluid, the full-length gown that covered her feet as well also came with a pair of delicate chiffon gloves.

"Oh, and he even had this sent, a masquerade mask." Jimin handed her a glass box that held the most elegant masquerade eye-mask she had ever seen, it looked so delicate, she was afraid to touch it, lest it would tear. It would not necessarily cover anything, it was shimmery and the material was almost transparent, but it would add to the effect.

"Are these...For me?" she was still stunned, struck by all the arrangements, it was apparent that the event was far bigger a deal than Mr Kim had let on.

"Of course not, Darling, these are for his girlfriend, he just wanted an inspection from his precious secretary." Jimin's obnoxiously sweet smile and words dripping with sarcasm had her rolling her eyes in annoyance

"I was just stunned, okay!" 'stunned' was perhaps a bit of an understatement, but the way Jimin casually mentioned 'girlfriend', left a pang in her heart. But then again, what else did she expect? Of course, a man like Kim Namjoon would not be single "And...What about his girlfriend?" she regretted the moment the words slipped past her lips before she could prevent them. Jimin's eyebrows shot up.

"What? Why do you care?"

"No, I don't care, I was just, curious. That's it." she was quick to cover up while busing herself with the gown and the accessories that came with it.

"Well, I don't know, maybe he does, he is Kim Namjoon after all. And if he does not, he might be having different girls on his lap every night." (Y/N) could not help the offended gasp at his words, landing a quick and hard smack over Jimin's arm "OW! What was that for?" she only scoffed and looked away, resuming the process of putting on the earrings, even though the once delicate, careful movements had turned aggressive. "What? What is it?"

"What? Nothing!" Jimin sized her up briefly before diverting his attention back on the accessories that he had been sent with.

"Wait, do not take off the earrings, he has also sent this pendant. And shoes." she froze in surprise and awe as Jimin produced the rest of the items from the bag. The shoes seemed too delicate to be of practical use "This...This will break."

"Nah, they won't. You can kick a metal ball with them. Look!" before she could grasp his intentions, he threw one of the glass shoes on the floor. She gasped, expecting it to shatter, but to her surprise, it remained intact, without a single scratch on its surface on inspection. While Jimin smirked smugly at her "Told you. Now come on, try on all these, if you face any problem with any of these, I have to inform Mr Kim, he will take care of it."

"Uh, okay, help me with the pendant and the shoes."

"Sure, sure Madame,"

-------

(Y/N) knew that Kim Namjoon was a perfectionist- but she had thought of so only in the professional front- as a person, he was rather a bit...Clumsy. The thought made her smile slightly. However, at the moment, when Jimin had ushered her to a high-end beauty parlour, or that was what one should call the place where two women were catering to her, she came to realise that Kim Namjoon was really a perfectionist, in every way possible. It was another story that he managed to mess things up himself more than often, but overall, with all the planning and vision,- he was every bit of the perfectionist and observant heir of the Kim Group of Companies that he was brought up and expected to be. An appointment had already been made and the payment, done. Her hair had been taken care of, turning it shiny and smoother than silk, her skin was cleansed and taken care of in a way that left her feeling pampered, especially with the manicured nails. (Y/N) came to realise, rather soon, that the event was meant for the high-profiles, the elites. And that made her doubt her boss' spontaneous decision to put her name on the list for accompanying him to the place.

But she did not have the chance to back off, it was too late already, Mr Kim had sent her the gown she was to wear, the accessories with it and she had already made her trip to the beauty parlour. And Sunday evening arrived with a blink of her eyes.

Jimin had helped her put everything on, making sure not even a strand of her hair was out of place, not even a thread of her attire haywire. And as she examined herself in the mirror, Jimin had left as soon as he was done, and she did not have the heart to stop him, his weekend had already been ruined because of an event she had no clue about other than the fact that she was required to look good and accompany her employer. Her phone dinged with a text and as expected, it was from Mr Kim, letting her know that he had arrived.

"Mom! I am leaving, please take care of yourself, dinner is in the kitchen, heat it before you eat?" she peeked into her mother's room,

"Okay, go now, do not keep him waiting. And you look beautiful." (Y/N) could not help the smile at the compliment before she hurried away, not wanting Mr Kim to wait for too long.

****

Taglist(Kindly remind me later if I missed anyone)- @whatpageisthis @amoc94 @theresa-nam-nam-me @dearbambideer @casualminiaturetimemachine @njrwifey @kpopisnicee @illnevertrustmyselfagain @potterbrooke @luvaffaire @bighitfics @mochimochipie @vixenwerr @minshookie29 @sepulcry @omgsuperstarg @rkive-diary

[sequinsmile-x]

As the Years Go By

Chapter 1 of 2. (Part 2 coming tomorrow)

Part of the Whatever Tomorrow Brings universe

A birthday present for my dear friend @sweetsecretskeptinside

Happy Birthday my love!! Becoming your friend has been one of the best things to happen to me this year, and arguably one of the best things to happen to me ever.

You are kind, and funny and so smart (and gorgeous btw) and you make me laugh every damn day. You are insanely talented (to the point where sometimes I am still in shock that I get to be your friend?! Seems fake) and it is a true privilege to read your work.

I know you’re working today, but I hope you have a lovely day. And that you know how treasured you are <3

The tags are also mushy you haven't escaped that

Love you so much!

Now onto the fic - which has been specifically designed to make you cry.

Words: 4.3k

Read on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron knew his wife better than he knew anyone else. Part of it came from all the time they’d had together, the almost 15 years since she had first kissed him, creating a good basis for them. They were each other's person, the one each would seek out when they looked across a room. A cornerstone in each other's lives.

He was also a profiler, so he could read her like a book. Her tells were as obvious to him now as her beauty, striking in the way they would blow him away. Take his breath away for a moment at the first signs of distress on her face, the way her brow would tighten slightly, her eyes hardening under his gaze. Everything in him would itch to make it better, to hurt whatever, or whoever, had hurt her.

She was nervous. He’d noticed it the moment she woke up, the way she was keeping her hands busy. Helping Theo with his breakfast even though he was definitely old enough to do it himself, folding laundry without comment even though Jack should have done it the night before.

“Em.” He tries, his voice soothing as he places his hand on her back as he joins her by the kitchen counter, the boys both sat at it eating their breakfast.

“I’m fine.” She says, far too quickly for it to be true. She looks up at him and she huffs out a laugh, moving her hand to her belly. “The baby is kicking.”

He smiles, letting her redirection of the conversation go for now, knowing she will always speak to him eventually.

“It’s because she knows we are seeing her again today.” He says, putting his hand over hers.

“You’re still sure it’s a girl?” She asks, smirking. “It’s not too late to back out of our bet.”

He stamps a quick kiss on her lips, and rolls his eyes when Jack, and Theo because he always copied his brother, made noises of disgust.

“I’m not backing out because I’m right.” He kisses her again, just to get a reaction out of his sons, and pulls back. “Your $50 is mine.”

They go about their morning, and she continues to act like everything is fine. It’s only when they get to the doctors that he can practically feel the anxious energy roll off of her, her leg bouncing as they sit in the waiting room of her OBGYN.

“Em.” He says, putting his hand on her knee, stopping the movement. He grabs her hand at the same time, knowing her next move would be to bite the skin around her nail, her cuticles already torn up. “You’re ok.”

It was a scheduled appointment, her 20 week scan, but he had sensed her nerves building in the lead up to it. She spent most of the time convinced that something was going to go wrong, that this would get taken away from her. After so many years of thinking that this wouldn’t happen for them again, that their family was complete as it was, this still felt too good to be true.

He caught her sometimes, standing sideways and looking at herself in the mirror in their closet with her hands on her belly as if she still somehow didn’t believe it.

“I know.” She replies, forcing a smile at him. “I’m just worried.”

“I know you are, love.” He says, placing his hand on her back, rubbing gentle circles there. “But it will be ok.” He squeezes her shoulder, the firm line her mouth set, making him change tactics from reassurance to distraction. “Is your money still set on the baby being a boy?”

She beams at him, her hand on her bump as she nods. “Definitely.”

“Emily?” Joanne walks out of her observation room, interrupting them before they can continue their playful argument, and she smiles at them. “Do you want to come in?”

Emily’s nerves return instantly and he holds her hand tightly, his thumb tracing back and forth over her wrist as Joanne goes through the results of the battery of tests that had been done, all of them thankfully the results they wanted. Joanne encourages her onto the bed so she can do the ultrasound, and they watch in fascination as she points out different parts of their baby. Aaron kisses his wife's temple when the sound of the heartbeat fills the room, a beautiful sound that he knew would always leave him breathless no matter how many times he heard it.

“Are you ready to find out what you’re having?” Joanne asks, a knowing smile on her face. They both nod and Aaron feels Emily’s hand tighten its grip on his, and he looks at her to see a tremor to her smile. There was so much happiness flowing off of her it almost burned him, leaving him happy to be caught up in the flames, a wildfire of a thing that he was easily swept up in.

Her joy had always been addictive to him, her smile making something bloom in his chest the first time he had seen it, a bright spot in an otherwise dark time in his life. Her laugh was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, making him always seek to tear it out of her.

“Well, I hope the boys are ready to have a sister.” Joanne says, beaming at them. “You’re having a girl.”

“A girl?” Emily chokes out, her voice thick with emotion that overwhelms them both in an instant.

It was something he hadn’t realised he wanted until that very moment. The final piece of the puzzle falling into place. He looks at the screen, at his daughter, and he feels overwhelmed immediately. He kisses Emily’s forehead, his eyes not moving from the screen as Joanne points out that the baby was waving.

“Oh, honey.” Emily says, her voice unsteady. She puts a hand on his cheek and makes him look at her. She laughs at him as she wipes tears off of his face with the heel of her hand as if she isn’t crying too. “I’ve never been so happy to be wrong.”

Aaron laughs, and tells her she can keep her $50 because she had already given him everything he would ever need.

They tell Theo and Jack they are having a sister when they get home from school and they are both delighted, even if Jack tries to hide it in his teenage aloofness. Aaron doesn’t miss the way Emily’s smile flickers slightly when Jack mentions Elizabeth, asking what she would think. Aaron watches as Emily’s mood sours throughout the day, her initial joy fading into something that seemed a little too close to apprehension.

He waits until the boys are in bed, Theo having to be allbut dragged from his mothers side, always happy to curl up next to Emily on the couch. It was something that had been the same way since he was a newborn. A tiny baby that wanted nothing more than to be near his mother.

Aaron had never been able to blame him, Emily’s side was his favourite place to be too. He sits next to her and waits her out, knowing she would always speak to him eventually. That she needed to process things herself before she brought them to him.

“What if I’m not any good at it?” She asks finally, her voice small as she focuses her attention on her hands.

“At what?” Aaron replies, catching her hand in his to stop her from picking at her cuticles before she can even start. She looks up at him with a sad smile on her face.

“Being a mom to a little girl.”

It throws him, his brain briefly short circuiting and stopping him from replying. It wasn’t something that had even crossed his mind. She was an amazing mother, the best. The way she loved Theo and Jack was endless, unconditional in a way that somehow made him love her more.

“Em-”

“It’s just…my relationship with my own mom has always been so hard.” She says, sniffling as she wipes her nose and cheeks, the tears she has clearly been holding back for hours finally slipping free. “And I’d hate it to be like that with her.”

Her hands fall to her bump, cradling it with such devotion and care he wishes she could see herself. That she could see how much of an amazing mother she already was to their daughter.

Not for the first time, he really wants to give Elizabeth Prentiss a piece of his mind.

“I want to be the first person she calls when she’s engaged, you know?” She says, wiping her face again. “I don’t want to accidentally find out because she doesn’t want to deal with my reaction.”

It had been 13 years since they got engaged. 13 years and soon to be 3 kids, and Elizabeth would still bring up on occasion that she found out her only child was getting married through someone else telling her. He still remembered the look on Emily’s face when she got the call from her mother, furious that she had found out that way.

“Emily.” He says, finally getting her attention. “She’s still got another 20 weeks to go inside of you, I think we can hold off worrying about her engagement.”

She glares at him, but there is no strength behind it, not an ounce of actual anger or annoyance. He smiles at her and wipes a stray tear off of her cheek. He decides to try a different tactic. Make her see herself through his eyes like she so often did for him.

“Do you think my relationship with my father affects how I am with the boys?” He asks bluntly, putting his own insecurity out there. Her eyes widen, fury flooding them immediately. Fierce protectiveness for him briefly overriding any lingering anxieties.

“Of course not.” She seethes, her eyebrows furrowed. She was the one who had comforted him over the years, telling him that he was not and never could be his father. Soothing him when he would discipline the boys, her gentle reassurance that it was justified was the only thing that would pull him back from the edge. She narrows her eyes at him and the tension leaves her shoulders and he watches as she physically reacts. “Very clever, Hotchner.”

“I thought so.” He replies, closing the gap between them to kiss her, his palm splayed across her bump. He pulls back and rests his forehead against hers, both of them laughing when the baby kicks against his hand. “You’re an amazing mom, Em. Our sons are lucky to have you, and our daughter will be too.”

“I love you.” She says as she reaches up to cup his cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out.” He promises, stamping a kiss to her lips. “We’ll have to come up with a name.”

She smiles at him widely. “Go get me the book.”

Emily names her, their daughter. She smiles at him as she claims that he had come up with the name Theo, so it was her turn. He remembers teasing her at first, asking just how many pages she had got into the baby name book before deciding on the name Ameila.

She sheepishly admits it’s because she likes how it sounds with his name, how she’d always dreamt of the relationship he’d have with a daughter she never thought they’d get to have. Any other teasing he had lined up falls away and he pulls her into his arms. Grateful that somehow this was their life. ____________

He wakes to the bed shifting, his wife grumbling next to him as she desperately tries to get comfortable.

“Em, are you ok?” His voice is thick, rough with sleep as he sits up and rubs at his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She sounds far too close to tears for that to be true. “Go back to sleep.”

He turns on the lamp on his nightstand and turns to look at his very pregnant wife. She’s facing away from him, curled around her pregnancy pillow, her hand rubbing at her stomach.

“She won’t stop moving.” She says, moving her hand to briefly wipe tears away from her cheek before returning it to her abdomen, rubbing soft circles there in an attempt to calm their daughter down. “And I love her so much, but I am so tired, Aaron. I just want to sleep. I need to sleep before she gets here and I can’t.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Just go back to sleep.” She sniffs, her voice wavering. “I’ll be ok.”

“We both know I’m not going to go back to sleep when you’re upset.” He says as he leans down to kiss her temple. “How can I help?”

She laughs mirthlessly. “Well if you can go in there and tell her to sleep that would be great.”

“Ok.” He says nodding, guiding her to sit up, turning her body towards him. “Face this way.”

“Aaron-”

“Trust me.” He leans over her to grab her pregnancy pillow and lays it between them, helping her settle back down next to him. He shifts down the bed so he is in line with her stomach, his palm coming to rest on her bump. “Amelia, you’ve got to start being nice to Mommy. She needs her rest before you make your appearance.”

His answer comes in a firm kick against his palm, and a laugh from Emily.

“Not even born yet and she’s already ignoring you.” She says, her hand coming to rest on the top of his head, her fingers trailing through his hair.

He shushes her. “You’re meant to be trying to sleep.” He turns his attention back to her stomach and starts to talk about everything and nothing. About his day, how he’s looking forward to meeting her, how much her mother and brothers are too. He even sings at one point, poking Emily in the ribs when she laughs at him as he tries to remember the lyrics to Blackbird.

Eventually he notices Emily’s fingers have stopped trailing through his hair and he looks up to see her fast asleep, her face half buried in his pillow. ____________

He holds Amelia first. His impossibly tiny baby was placed in his arms on a day when he didn’t even think she’d be born. She was born a whole month early, her arrival the complete opposite of Theo’s long, drawn out labour. The love he feels for the tiny baby rushes through him, and he’s grateful he’s sitting down. He looks over at Emily and sees the fear on her face, mixed with adrenaline and love as she lays torn open to bring their baby into the world. He holds Amelia to her, lets her kiss the little girl's forehead and wipes a stray tear from her face before it falls into her hairline.

He promises them both right there and then that he'll do anything to protect them. It’s less than 12 hours later when he needs to for the first time.

The doctor who had initially assured them everything was ok with Amelia, despite her early arrival, walks into Emily’s room with a slightly solemn look on his face. It was one of the first times in his career that he wished he didn’t know how to read behaviour, that his wife didn’t, because they instantly know something is wrong. He can sense the panic rise in her, the fear as she grabs at his hand, her eyes fixed on the doctor standing at the end of her bed.

“What’s wrong?” Emily asks. “Where’s my baby?”

“Mr and Mrs Hotchner, there have been some concerns overnight about Amelia’s breathing, so we have moved her from the general nursery to the NICU for a few days.”

“Wh..what?” Emily chokes out, her grip on his hand so hard Aaron can feel the bones shift beneath his skin, his knuckles almost cracking together. “You said she was ok.”

“She was, she is.” He reassures them, and Aaron can quickly feel the emotions building in his wife. Her usual control torn down by the stress of Amelia’s arrival, the pain from her surgery and the rush of hormones after birth. And their kids were her soft spot, they were for both of them. He puts his arm around Emily and pulls her closer. “The nurses overnight had some concerns that I shared and we made the decision to move her. We don’t believe there is any cause for concern in the long run, if anything we are being overly cautious. She is very small, even for a 36 weeker.”

“Can we see her?” Aaron asks, attempting to maintain his cool. Keep his strength for the two of them.

“You can go see her now Mr Hotchner.” He purses his lips and turns to Emily. “You can in a while Mrs Hotchner, but you are recovering from surgery and we’d rather you stayed in bed a little while longer.”

“I need to see her now.” Emily chokes out. “She needs me.”

“Someone will come by and get you later.” The doctor says, as if the conversation was over. He turns to Aaron. “If you ask one of the nurses where to go they will show you.”

When they are alone again he expects the last tiny bit of Emily’s resolve to snap, for her to fall apart. But he can feel her recoiling in on herself in his arms.

“You need to go see her.” She’s still crying, with all the will in the world she wouldn’t be able to stop it if she wanted to. She pulls away and looks at him, her face screwed up as she sobs. “She can’t be by herself.”

“Em-”

“Aaron, she’s so small. She’ll be scared.”

“And what about you? You’re scared.” He says, cupping her cheek and wiping away her tears. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’ll be fine.” She says, smiling at him even though she's trembling. “Please? Until I can be there.”

He reluctantly agrees, leaving her in her room alone with a kiss and making her promise to text him if she needs anything.

His heart snaps in two in his chest when he hears her start to cry in earnest the second the door to her room closes behind him.

He sits next to Amelia, looking impossibly small, for a few hours before Emily is wheeled in, looking furious about having to be in a wheelchair and delighted to be able to see their daughter.

She keeps a vigil after that. Barely returning to her own room to rest, only agreeing when she was practically strong armed into it by Aaron or the nurses.

He tries to reason with her at first. He tries to get her to go home once she’s discharged, to remind her that she had just had major surgery and needed to recover herself. Emily’s wilful nature has her ignoring him, a barely disguised wince on her face as she sits upright in the uncomfortable chair near the incubator Amelia was being kept in, an impossibly small cannula on her face delivering her oxygen. Emily’s eyes were fixed on their daughter as she rested a hand low on her own abdomen, gently covering her new scar, the physical evidence of what she had gone through to bring their little girl safely into the world.

He knows he’s playing dirty when he tells her the boys miss her. That it’s unfair when he tells her that Theo isn’t sleeping well and Jack’s anxiety is getting worse with her long stay at the hospital, the vigil she is keeping at their daughters side. She glares at him, and he knows he deserves it, but she gives him a short, sharp, nod. She only agrees to go home if he stays, quietly admitting she could do with sleeping in their own bed.

Aaron agrees, and he takes her home only to immediately return to the hospital. He sits and watches Amelia sleep, his hand through the slightly too small hole in the side of the incubator so she could grip his finger.

When she opens her eyes and looks up at him he falls in love all over again. ____________

“Theo, Jack. If you aren’t in the car in the next 2 minutes I’m telling your grandmother that you want to go to Germany with her this Christmas.”

Aaron barely suppresses his laughter when he hears the rush on the second floor of the house, Jack down the stairs in a matter of seconds, Theo on his tail, the threat of an extended period of time with Elizabeth over the holiday’s enough to get them moving despite his insistence for the last twenty minutes. He turns to Amelia, already in her car seat, and smiles at her.

“Your brothers are silly.” He says and she smiles back, like she always did when he spoke to her, and it makes warmth spread through his chest. He lifts up the car seat and leaves the house, securing the front door behind him before he walks down the porch steps.

Theo and Jack are already arguing in the car about what music they would play on the journey over to Elizabeth and John’s house. As Aaron clips Ameila’s car seat into the back of the car he feels the hair stand up on the back of his neck, a familiar feeling of being watched prickling at his senses. He looks up and briefly thinks he sees a man standing a few cars down, watching him intently.

“Dad! Theo won’t let go of the aux cable.” Jack seethes, turning from his place in the passenger seat in the front of the car.

Aaron sighs and looks at him as he does the final clip on Amelia’s car seat. “Who picked the music last time?”

“I did.” Jack says, avoiding his gaze, knowing he has already lost the argument.

“Then it’s Theo’s turn.” He says, looking at Theo with a raised eyebrow when the 6 year old celebrates in a way a little too close to gloating.

He closes the car door and looks back to where he had seen the man standing, and there was no one there. No sign of anything unusual in their street.

As he gets into his car he convinces himself that he imagined it, that his first time alone with three kids since Emily went back to work was getting to him. That the lack of sleep was making him less sharp than usual, and he was looking forward to having his wife back soon.

“Daddy, when’s Mommy coming home from Canada?” Theo asks as the car starts.

“Tonight, bud. She’ll head over to Grandma and Grandpa’s to see you when she’s back.”

He thinks he’s imagined it, the man stood staring at him, until Dave drops him home to an empty house almost a week later. His family gone, and the slamming of a car door reminding him of the moment he saw George Foyet watching his family. ____________

He’s woken up by the sound of Amelia crying. It shocks him awake, makes him sit up in bed a little quickly and he looks at his wife sleeping next to him, mercifully still asleep thanks to the heavy pain killers she was on. He knew how much pain she must be in after the car crash she was in to even agree to take the medication. He was still so sad, so angry that she had been hurt on her first case back, and he wondered when their family would catch a break.

It was unlike her to sleep through one of the kids crying, so attuned to their needs, so he quickly stands and rounds the bed to pick up Amelia.

“You’re ok, sweetie.” He says as he picks her up, settling the fussy 10 month old onto his chest.

She was still small, certainly smaller than Theo had been at her age, and every time he held her he felt a wave of protectiveness for her, the need to stop anything from harming her.

Amelia was slowly warming up to him. It still stung, cutting through his chest worse than Foyet’s knife ever had, when he thought about the way she didn’t remember him when they were first reunited. That his daughter, his precious little girl, didn’t know who he was.

Things were getting better. She’d reach out for him now instead of hiding in Emily’s arms when he walked into a room, and she’d smile at him, babble nonsensical sentences at him whenever he was near.

It felt like something new, something that George Foyet couldn’t touch.

He settles back into bed and Amelia almost immediately calms down, pressing her forehead into his chest as if she was trying to crawl under his skin.

“You just wanted to cuddle, huh?” He asks, his hands securing her to him, holding her close.

“She ok?” Emily murmurs, her words slurring as she turns to face him, her hand resting on Amelia’s back as she snuggles closer to them.

“She’s fine, love.” He takes one of his hands from Amelia’s back and pushes some of Emily’s hair from her forehead, his thumb gently tracing her skin. “Go back to sleep.”

He’s not sure she was ever fully awake because she’s asleep again in seconds, her hand over his on their daughter’s back as Amelia drifts off on his chest.

He feels happy, like things were slipping back into place after everything they almost lost, and he falls into a dreamless sleep.

[alyasgf]

Reveals?

Part 5 of Everything’s Gonna Be Okay || Masterlist

Word Count- 2615

AO3

Notes- Crazy how I’ve had this chapter drafted for the longest. I went through a spout of hating all of my writing so I wasn’t really motivated. I pretty much just wrote Alyanette until I felt confident enough to continue this so,, yay here we are a couple months later, sorry for the wait.

Begin

She’d never say it aloud, but she adored her partner. She admired him for his optimism, loyalty, and how stupidly brave he could be during battles.

As she detransformed on her bed her mind also wandered to Adrien. It did that a lot recently, flipping back and forth between both blonde boys. It confused her heart, but still she knew it belonged to Adrien, as it always had, as it always would. With his soft laughs and softer smiles, Marinette couldn’t believe she was lucky enough to have him.

She laid there, staring up dreamily toward the night sky and holding her hands to her heart until a shadow obscured her view.

She heard a small knock and smiled. Did this stray ever go home?

She opened her sky light and stuck her head out.

“To what do I owe the pleasure savior of Paris?”

In the dim moonlight she could see Chat’s eyes crinkle as he smiled.

“I request your company, and perhaps some sustenance?” He said in an overly formal tone as he kneeled before her.

She laughed before inviting him in.

As he climbed down into her room she could see the glow in his eyes. Something about him was different, he seemed happier.

Most of the times that he would come Marinette could see a lonely sad look break through when he thought she wasn’t looking. It’s not that she minded of course, if she could be a form of comfort for Chat like he was for her she’d take it in a heartbeat.

“I have some chocolate pastries here, although they aren’t too fresh.” She offered him as he crossed the room over to her desktop. She didn’t normally make a habit of keeping food in her room, but Tikki had been snacking. Hopefully she wouldn’t mind too much if Chat stole a few.

“Sounds great Marinette.” He called over his shoulder as he sat in her desk chair and sat in front of her computer.

“What do you say we find some two player game on here and- oh.” Chat stopped mid-sentence and Marinette turned around from grabbing a pastry to see what had happened.

Apparently she forgot to close out the folder of Adrien’s ad photos she had saved on her computer.

She turned bright red as she ran over to the computer and quickly closed it out.

“That’s uh... research! Yeah research on some Gabriel designs!” She lied, facing her back towards Chat so he wouldn’t notice the blush now spreading down her neck.

“Right, well if it were research on Gabriel designs, why only have pictures of Adrien? Other models wear Gabriel brand clothes.” She could practically hear the teasing smirk on his face.

She turned to wack him softly on the shoulder. “Keep on this topic and I’ll make you watch me eat the pastries right here!” She threatened.

Chat held his hands up in mock surrender. “Woah so sorry Adrien Agreste fan #1.” He teased again.

In response Marinette took a large bite out of the pastry she had planned to give him. She made sure to make a show of it, with accompanying sound effects and an exaggerated sigh after she finished chewing.

“Marinette you wound me!” Chat whined, crossing his arms in a dramatic childlike fashion.

Marinette stopped to think about how adorable his pout was before she laughed and went to grab the second pastry.

“Test me again and there will be no more sweets when you come over.” She bluffed.

Chat practically snatched the snack from her hands.

“Then I’d have no reason to come back.” He said through a stuffed mouth.

“No, I think you enjoy my company too much.” She gloated before pulling up a chair beside him. “Now what game did you want to play?”

They spent the next two hours playing fireboy and watergirl, where Marinette was shocked to find they made an incredible team.

——————————————

The akuma was hard, there was no denying that. The akuma called itself Obedience. Anyone struck with its ray was forced to do what ever it said, as though playing a game of simon says with dire stakes.

Marinette regretted staying up so late with Chat the night before. How he managed to have the amount of energy he did was astounding.

Chat had already used his cataclysm and Ladybug had used her lucky charm to set up a trap, all they had to do was lead Obedience into it.

Unfortunately, they needed to charge up before that, seeing as the beeping of their miraculous was giving its final warning before it was going to give up.

They landed on a distant building and de-transformed behind opposite sides of a pillar.

“M’lady do you have any extra snacks? Plagg ate up all his cheese before the battle and I didn’t have time to restock.” Chat called from the other side of the stone divider.

Ladybug giggled. “Looks like you need to learn how to control your friend Chaton. Here.” She reached out with a macaroon for Chat to take.

Her curiosity got the best of her and she couldn’t help but admire his hand as he reached over to take the sweet.

Soft and flawless, other than the messy blue nail polish that glowed in the sunlight. At first she didn’t think anything of it.

“Going for a new look kitty?” She asked lightheartedly as Tikki refueled.

“What? Oh you mean my nails. Well, I had someone paint them for me yesterday and I guess I distracted them too much and they made a mess.” He replied absentmindedly.

Wheels began to turn in Marinette’s brain, but unsure as to why, she didn’t try to make them stop.

“Oh, someone painted them? They look cute, did someone finally take in this alley cat?”

“For someone who hates puns, you really do use a lot of cat related metaphors toward me bug. And as a matter of fact I do, and she’s my girlfriend.” He bragged. “Plagg claws out!”

Ladybug transformed as well and was going to make a joke before a few dot connected before her. Messy blue nails. A girlfriend who painted them the day before. That nail polish looked all too familiar. She tried to push it down, but the dots were already connected.

Suddenly she flashed back to Chat Noir seeing her folder of Adrien photos last night and she felt sick to her stomach.

“Hey bug? You ready to kick this akuma Chat style?”

Ladybug snapped out of her trance. Even if everything that she just thought of was true, there was still an enemy to defeat. She could fully panic later.

“I think you mean Ladybug style. Now let’s go.”

They only just managed to get to the Eiffel Tower before they heard her again.

“Where are you Ladybug and Chat Noir? Don’t you know good children come when they’re called?” Obedience sang from a few streets over.

Chat strode over to lure her to the trap.

“Well maybe this kitty needs to be put in time out.” He replied leaning on his baton juvenilely.

“Oh no sweet boy, bad children must be taught better!” She pointed cane at him and an array of vegetables began to shoot out at him.

“Oh no! I’m afraid already perfectly healthy ma’am!” He leapt and dodged as he lead her straight to Ladybug.

As he turned the corner, there she stood, hands defiantly on her hips a couple of feet away. He scampered around a very large pool of a certain substance that was hardly noticeable unless you knew what you were looking for.

He took his side beside his lady as Obedience followed behind him.

“I’ve got you now tomcat!” Obedience turned the corner too fast and slipped straight into the street filled with a ridiculous amount of oil.

She screamed as she slid, and in her fall her cane flew from her fingers. It’s momentum led it straight toward them. Ladybug stopped it with the bottom of her shoe, and stomped on it with a satisfied grin.

Once she let the akuma go and threw the now empty bottle of oil to reverse the effects of the akuma, she turned to Chat.

“Pound it!” She said it with her usual confidence, but Chat could see something else lingering in her eyes.

But he was supposed to be practicing piano at the moment so he didn’t exactly have too much time to question her about it.

“Pound it.” He replied, touching his fist to hers.

————————-

“Tikki spots off.”

Ladybug de-transformed in her room and immediately began pacing.

“Crap crap crap crap! Tikki I accidentally figured out his identity! How could I be so careless as to look at his hands? Why did I care that much.”

Tikki sighed as she sat on Marinette’s desk. Sometimes it was best to let her get it all out.

“Well obviously I cared that much because Chat Noir is my recently established boyfriend! God he’s going to get such an ego boost when he finds out we’re dating.” Marinette threw herself face first into her chaise.

“So you’re going to tell him?” Tikki zipped over to hove beside her holder’s head.

There was a muffled response from the chair.

“What was that Marinette?”

“No, not yet. First I want to see how much he knows, if he knows anything at all.” Marinette rolled over on the chaise, laying as though she were at a therapists appointment.

“Tikki do you think this will effect our relationship? Will it put us in danger?”

Tikki’s little heart warmed.

“Marinette, you guys will be fine. If anything I think this would bring you closer together. If it puts you in any more danger you’ll handle it together, like you always do.” Tikki flew closer to hug Marinette’s cheek and Marinette let out a deep sigh as she brought a hand up to hug Tikki back.

“Thanks Tikki. You’re the best kwamii anyone could ask for.” Marinette said as the stress melted off of her.

“And you’re the best Ladybug I’ve ever known.” She replied warmly.

Of course things would work out. This was Chat she was talking about, Adrien. There wasn’t a problem he couldn’t help her solve, with or without the masks.

————————-

After going over Tikki’s advice for what felt like hours, Marinette came to a conclusion.

She would tell Chat Noir (Adrien?) who she was. It was only fair, considering she knew his identity. She wouldn’t have came to this on her own, so for the millionth time in her life she thanked Tikki.

But first, she needed to have a little fun. She noticed how Adrien would tease her lately for how flustered she got around him, so she figured the least she could do was use this moment to get revenge.

Too excited to sit still, she transformed to confront her boyfriend.

———————

Adrien was laying in bed reading manga when he heard a tapping at his window. He looked over in shock to see his lady waiting outside.

“Ladybug?” He nearly stuttered out.

She was glowing in the moonlight, backlit in all her glory. She had a playful grin in her lips that made Adrien uneasy.

“Hey pretty boy, mind if I pop in?” She asked casually, as if it were totally normal for Adrien Agreste to have a spotted heroine outside of his window.

He calmed his heart, remembering this was his dorky girlfriend and invited her in. He had to remember to act friendly, not like he would with Marinette, nor like he would as Chat Noir. This wouldn’t be easy.

“Your nails look cute.” She offered casually as she sauntered over to sit in his desk chair.

Adrien froze. Ladybug had noticed Chat Noir’s earlier too.

He quickly pushed that thought away. Marinette had been oblivious of his identity up until this point, even after the thousands of clues he’d managed to drop. He wasn’t exactly concerned anymore.

He decided to take advantage of the chance to compliment his girlfriend without her being able to completely reject it.

“Yeah my girlfriend painted them! She’s so cute and sweet and pretty.” He replied dreamily.

He could see Ladybug’s eyes widen and her blush grow. This was going great.

“Did you need something?” He asked innocently.

“I- uh-“ Adrien laughed, his girlfriend really wasn’t too different outside of the suit. Flustered and flushed, she was still Marinette.

Suddenly something in her eyes changed. One second they were wide and almost panicked, the next they were full of suspicion.

“You know don’t you!” She accused more than asked. She stalked over and jabbed a finger lightly into his chest.

Now it was Adrien’s turn to panic.

“Know what?” He asked, hoping to play dumb.

“You do!”

So much for feigning innocence. Instead he opted for begging for forgiveness.

“Marinette, i’m so sorry! It’s just I knew you’d panic if I told you when I found out and it’s not like I tried to figure out your identity! It’s just that you put so much effort into the whole kwamiibuster scheme-“

“You’ve known since kwamiibuster?!” She practically shouted.

“-and you looked so cute.” Adrien added still trying to lighten the blow. “I didn’t tell anyone and I’ve known for a while and nothing bad happened so I figured-“

Ladybug cut off his rambling with a kiss.

Adrien was stunned at first but then ultimately sighed into the kiss as he leaned into her touch. His arms looped around her waist as he pulled her close, hands tracing patterns into her spandex covered back.

He pulled pack slightly, noses still touching. He could feel her breath ghost his lips.

“So we’re okay?” He asked hopefully, eyes looking deep into hers as they caught their breath.

“Of course, minou. I just wish you would’ve told me before you saw that embarrassing folder on my computer.” She blushed.

“Oh? But then I wouldn’t be able to tease you about it. Tell me, which one was your favorite? Do you think the greens really brought out my eyes?”

“You’re the worst!” She exclaimed, attempting to pull from his embrace. Adrien’s arms held her fast in place.

“You love me!” He announced proudly as he pulled her into a tight hug. “Ladybug is dating Chat Noir!”

“Would you be quiet! I don’t want to have to explain to Nathalie why Paris’ superhero is standing in your room.” She giggled into Adrien’s shoulder.

“Ladybug is dating Chat Noir” He whispered, this time softer as he nuzzled her neck.

“Yes she is.” Ladybug sighed, resigning to Adrien’s touch.

“Now,” He released the girl as he turned and clasped his hands together. “de-transform. We’ve had plenty of date night in your room-“

“Those weren’t technically dates” She interjected.

“-And not enough in mine.” He gave her a pointed look as he continued. “Of course, since it’s my room, I have full say in what we watch.” He could hear Marinette’s pout as she de-transformed. “But I’ll take suggestions.”

Marinette crossed over to where Adrien was pacing in anticipation and threw her arms around his shoulders from behind. She placed a quick kiss on the base of his neck.

“New Girl again!” She said excitedly.

“No.”

[redinkofshame]

Exotic Vacation

I based #2 on the AU list on my own honeymoon. I’m sorry the prompt never gets to the actual vacation part of the vacation… But if I added all the semi-public beach smex and threesomes this prompt would have been WAY too long.

So have some committed-relationship spice, with mirror smex.

2214 words, explicit

for @augustwritingchallenge

Read on AO3

Black Bikini Bottoms

Des and Solas hadn’t taken a honeymoon as newlyweds, as they had been new parents as well. They tied the knot at City Hall and promised each other they would take a trip for their first anniversary instead. But, between financial strain and Des’ separation anxiety, they’d called it off.

Now it was nearly their second anniversary and their daughter, Isla, was two years old, and Des was ready for a break. Cruise tickets for five days and four nights through Rivaini islands had been booked, plane tickets for her mom to stay here with Isla had been booked, and an appointment with a waxing salon so Des could get bikini-ready had been booked.

To be honest it wasn’t about the new bikini she’d packed so much as Solas seeing her in — and out — of it. Between work, parenthood, medical scares, and life in general, her and Solas’ s.ex life was all but non-existent, and she was hoping to change that, if only for the week.

The morning before was hectic — saying hello to her mother, goodbye to her daughter, and loading on the plane. They arrived late in Rivain and headed straight to their moderately-priced hotel room, where they both crashed. They did not have sex. (Thank goodness; she was exhausted.)

They were up before dawn on the day of their anniversary to begin the on-boarding process. Tickets, passports, suitcases, and a mandatory cruise ship safety lecture from the crew. It was after noon before they were free.

They managed to find their tiny windowless room well enough; it was on the lowest level and practically at the rear of the ship. After they’d checked that none of their luggage had gone missing in transit and settled a bit she sat on the bed. As it was practically the only place to sit her husband did the same. They chatted a bit, appraising the experience so far, and she scooted close, suggestively running her hand up and down his thigh as he commented on the excellent service and cheap booze.

Then a loud rumble started up, and they had to raise their voices to be heard.

He grimaced. “That must be the engine. I had not realized it would be so loud…”

Neither had she. Unlike Solas, she was a light sleeper and she was already starting to stress about the noise keeping her awake the entire trip.

But she was determined to break their dry spell. “It’s for the best,” she purred, running her hand along his chest. “Now we don’t have to worry about being too noisy.”

She pulled him into a kiss, trying to put heat into it. She wasn’t actually in the mood, yet, but she was sure she’d get there.

They kissed for several moments, nibbling on lips and necks. Neither mad a move to further, though, so they slowed to caresses. The longer it went the more painfully obvious it was that this wasn’t working for either of them. She moved her hand down and cupped hi, just to be sure, but she didn’t find anything significant.

She pulled back with a sigh and leaned her forehead against his.

He sighed as well. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired, we can still—”

“No, no, it’s okay. It’s not just you,” she admitted. She forced a smile and they stayed there a moment, heads together, eyes closed. Their hands found each other. She was trying not to get worked up over it, to blame herself, her body, to spit out something like ‘I guess we just don’t have sex anymore!’.

It was a shame. They used to have great sex. Like, really fucking good. Shouldn’t she be craving that? Would he, if she still looked like she did back then?

She reminded herself there was no reason to force themselves into some mediocre orgasms just because society said that their ‘honeymoon’ should be some kind of uber-romantic fuck-a-thon.

When she was sure she could open her eyes without getting teary she did so — only to find that while she was trying not to lose it the asshole was nodding off right where he sat.

“There’s a couple hours until our assigned dinner time,” she said, and his eyes popped open with a start. “Do you want to take a nap until then?”

“Yes. Very much so. But I would not

want you to leave you all alone on our anniversary…”

She waved it off. “I’ll nap for a bit, too, then I’ll just read. I brought a book.”

He didn’t need any more convincing and climbed under the covers. She got up and turned off the light.

She blinked.

“Holy shit.”

“Yes,” he agreed, sounding just as surprised as she was. It was dark. Like, completely lightless, even with elven vision. The blackout curtains in their bedroom at home had nothing on a windowless room under the ocean, apparently. “There’s no light from the hall; I suspect the rooms are water-tight.”

She hummed her agreement as she felt her way back to the bed. She didn’t bother setting an alarm; she never napped for more than an hour or so. With as loud as the engine was, she would be lucky to nap at all.

~~~~~

So, apparently, a cruise ship engine made for a wonderful white noise machine, especially when combined with the comforting darkness of the room. Des knew she’d over slept immediately. She didn’t bother trying to find her phone to check the time; they were out of service range and cross time zones. Instead she found the remote for the ceiling-mounted TV, which has a “channel” just to tell you the time and introduce you to the captain, as well as a few others explaining the islands they’d make port at in the coming days.

So much for a sixty minute nap; it had been six hours.

She hadn’t muted the TV fast enough and Solas stirred. “What time is it?” he mumbled. “Did we miss dinner?”

His tone told her that he already knew the answer.

“You could say that.”

“There’s room service, right?”

“I think they’re closed…”

“Well let’s try, at least.”

They did. The kitchen was closed, but uncooked meals were still available. Solas ordered a sandwich and she got the salad, and instead of eating a romantic anniversary dinner by the sea they ate in relative silenced in a room the size of a closet. At least wine didn’t require cooking.

C’est la vie. They went over their schedule for the next day, and which activities (‘excursions’ as the ship called them) they planned to hit. Once their plan was in place and the drinks were finished they went right back to bed.

With their good mood, full bellies, wine, and rest, Des thought they would ‘celebrate’ some more… But instead they wished each other a happy anniversary and went right back to bed. They did not have sex.

This time Des’ disappointment was genuine, and she allowed herself her tears. She might as well mourn the apparent loss of this part of their lives as Solas snored away behind her. Maybe they really were one of those couples after all. They had love, and family, and a life together, and sex wasn’t much of a part of that. And that was okay. But it also kinda sucked.

~~~~~~

The alarm woke them in the morning. Unlike the dinners that were scheduled in the dining room at the same time every night, breakfast would be buffet style for two hours on the upper deck, so there was no hurry. In theory. Des hurried anyway, excited to finally enjoy the view of glittering ocean for as far as her eyes could see as she sipped mimosas.

She was pulling out her outfit for the day (bikini included) when Solas invited her to shower with him. It was something they did pretty much whenever schedules allowed, so she didn’t expect any hanky-panky (and tried to convince herself she wasn’t disappointed when she was proven right).

He scrubbed her back and she watched him shave his head, checking him for missed spots. They got out and toweled dry.

She reached for her bikini bottoms but his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, grip noticeably firm. “Who said you’re allowed to get dressed?” he asked.

His wicked little grin was enough to send a tingle through her. “I can’t wait to see the incredible view,” she answered coquettishly. He didn’t bother with a response, just pulled her in and kissed her hungrily, almost immediately finding her tongue with his. His hands moved from her wrist to waist to grab great handfuls of her ass.

She tried to give as good as she got but she still had to wrap her arms around his neck just to keep her balance with the way her pressed into her, forcing her to back up until her butt hit the tiny vanity. She puled back to catch her breath, scraping her nails along his freshly-shaved scalp. He used the opportunity to go for her neck, sucking and biting as he pleased. She knew he was leaving marks on her but happily let him.

Des gasped lightly as his fingers traced to the apex of her thighs, teasing her. Fuck, it had been way too long… She canted her hips against his hand to prove how ready she was already, just in case it wasn��t super obvious.

It must have been because he hooked his elbow under her knee and lifted, speaking her open. She giggled in surprise but was cut off by her own hitching breath as he used his other hand to finger her. She buried her nose in the crook of his neck, clean and warm, until he murmured appreciatively in her ear, “Now there’s an incredible view…”

She turned to look over her shoulder only to see her own bare ass reflected in three different angles by the vanity mirrors.

Des smirked. She propped up her leg higher and leaned forward into Solas, arched her back to give him a pornographic view of his fingers disappearing into her cunt. He groaned and grabbed her ass with his now-free hand, lifting her higher still.

He worked her with those long, familiar fingers until she couldn’t take it anymore. He ignored her increasingly insistent noises of frustration — she knew he knew what she wanted, but the asshole always wanted to hear her beg for it. Finally she dropped all pretense and just said, “Dick. Now.”

He ignored her still, so she sunk her teeth into his neck, biting hard.

His surprise yelp was followed by a chuckle just before he grabbed her by the hips and spun her around. She met his grin with a smile of her own and bent over to brace her hands on the vanity table. She watched in satisfaction as his gaze dropped to her tits. Then she wiggled her butt to get him back on task.

He rook the time to run his hands up along her curves, all the way up to her shoulders and back, giving her ass a loud smack before finally aligning his cock up and — Fuck. Creators, she’d forgotten just how damn good when her husband fucked her with that big cock of his. The toys in her drawer at home had nothing on the grip of his hands pulling her hips to him as he thrust steadily into her.

She looked up at him in the mirror but couldn’t make eye contact as he was intently watching their bodies moving together instead. She’d been stupid to think he was tired of her body… He’d never said or even done anything to make her think he was no longer attracted to her, and the way he looked at her now was anything but disinterested.

She reached up to squeeze her own breast — that caught his attention. His eyes snapped up to hers and she continued the treatment, tugging her nipple for her own satisfaction, watching him watching her. Then she watched nothing at all as her eyes screwed up and she came for him, though she felt his heavy gaze even then.

He rode her through her orgasm, steady, controlled as always. Always, that was, until it was his turn. Once she opened her eyes again he dug his fingers into her and took her hard. She moaned with each thrust and it was all she could do to brace herself against the table as he lost himself, pounding into her fast, hard, deep.

She watched his face as he came at last, smiled when his eyes opened to meet hers. He smiled back and gave her ass another slap before pulling out. “Worth it for that view alone.”

She rolled her eyes and went to grab a washcloth from the shower, giving him one as well. Then her the bikini bottoms she’d been reaching for before, like a proper gentleman.

“Why thank you.” She grumbled as she started pulling them on, “Gonna get cum stains on it before I even get in the water…”

Solas cupped her face and pulled her into a long, satisfied kiss. Then he said with a smirk, “It won’t be the last time. Black was a poor color choice for our honeymoon.”

[soundwavefucker69]

Baby Tal'ika: Mace officially taking them as his Padawan

fhdskfhdkjshkjf okay let’s do this

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

“If the honorable Senator Weezin doesn’t want us to investigate a missive from his own planet, perhaps the Senator should not be doing things that requires an investigation, Chancellor Organa.”

A headache was starting to grow just behind Mace’s eyes, a steady and aching pressure that was driving him to distraction, and today was not a day where he could afford a headache that set him off. He’d have to go to Vokara before heading down to the salles.

“Mace, I’m just trying to figure out what is actually going on here, because I’m getting conflicting reports. I don’t like Senator Weezin, either, but I also need to know what’s happening when it regards one of my senators,” Bail said, and rubbed at his eyes.

“Well, we aren’t sure what’s going on, either, and when I have information, I will forward it as relevant. Master Secura just left, and I have nothing currently to report,” Mace explained. “If he wants to pitch a fit, he can pitch a fit to the child king he made the mistake of trying to turn into a figurehead.”

“The reconstructionists want to order you all back to Coruscant. Again,” Bail said quietly, and Mace tried to bat down the growing irritation.

“And they will receive the same answer. You all signed the Palpatine Accords. You can’t void it now that you’re mad militarizing the Jedi has lasting consequences. We are beholden to the Republic, not the Senate, and it is going to remain that way,” Mace bit out, and Bail sighed, sunk down in his seat on the other end of the holo transmission.

“Is Senator Weezin corrupt?” He asked quietly, and Mace bit back the information he had.

“That’s what the investigation is for.” He was absolutely corrupt, but the Jedi handled their own investigations now, and only delivered their reports once everything had been fact checked at least four times, with independent consultants verifying their information. They had to protect themselves.

“Well. I hope Master Secura is thorough.”

“She has Bly with her. She’ll be very thorough,” Mace assured him, because there was nothing that got a Jedi going like showing off their competence to their partner. “Speaking of Bly, is Rizz doing alright?”

“Rizz has put the fear of the manda into Senator Tectate, and I am very much looking forward to them doing it again,” Bail said wryly. “I was worried you’d sent us a pushover when I met them, but they’re practically running the Senate at this point. I’ve never seen the reconstructionists so scared to take the floor. I think they’re going to be my replacement in another ten years.”

Mace was not satisfied with the assessment. He wasn’t, but it was a close thing.

“Rizz is made of firmer stuff than you’d think. I think they’re planning on making another committee.”

“The Senate is not going to survive if they make another one. Please talk them down,” Bail almost pleaded, but Mace knew he wanted it.

“I’ll have Fox talk to them. In the meantime, I have an appointment, so can we continue this discussion at a later time?”

“Tal’ika is twelve today, aren’t they?” Bail asked mildly, deceptively so, and Mace let his lips twitch in something that was almost a smile.

“They are, and I believe they’re in the salles,” he replied, and Bail looked extremely pleased.

“I look forward to your next trip to Coruscant,” he said, and Mace thought of Tal’ika in the Senate chambers. Force, that was going to be a nightmare.

“I’ll keep the theatrics to a minimum.” He wasn’t going to keep them to a minimum. He was going to encourage them.

“Please don’t. Rizz has been talking about today, and so has Padme. They’re excited.”

Rizz was going to be handling their political education. He wasn’t going to let Padme anywhere near Tal’ika. They were bad enough with Anakin.

“I’m sure they are,” he agreed, as serenely as he dared, and stood up to give Bail a severe bow. “Until next time, Chancellor.”

“May the Force be with you,” Bail said, and inclined his head.

“And with you.”

The transmission cut out, and Mace picked up his robe. A quick painkiller, and then he had a Initiate to locate in the salles. The exhibition was starting soon.

With a sigh, he rolled out his shoulders and shrugged on the robe before sweeping out of the empty Council chambers. Quick steps led him through the twisting labyrinth that was the new Temple, and he breathed in the serenity and clarity he had sorely missed. Five years since the end of the war, and fires were still being put out across the galaxy. The separation from the Senate and Coruscant had been sorely needed, and he found that he didn’t regret it as much as he possibly should have. It was better this way. Clearer. With firm boundaries, and actual treaties to keep their independence. The war had been hard, as short as it was, and painful. It had left deep scars on the Order as a whole, but here, they were healing, no longer held hostage by their beliefs.

All because of one time traveling impossibility. A flicker of fondness rose in his chest as he strode through halls made from trees and stone, and he let himself breathe in the reality that things were better now. Some things had changed, some things had remained the same. He didn’t necessarily think their monastic principles prior to the war had been wrong. Far from it. Jedi had families. They had lovers, and healthy attachments. But things had changed in an irrevocable way, and they had to move with the changes. They had sustained scars, and deep ones. The picture of a galaxy where the people had turned on them in such a vicious manner was a hard one, the future Tal’ika painted bleak, because it had all been a trap, and they were blamed for falling into it, despite the fact that they really had no choice. They’d come out with scars, and while they were luminous beings, not constrained by mortal flesh, they were not unlike a body that had sustained heavy damage, and needed to correct as necessary to survive it.

And now they had a new home, made of tree and stone, with a world removed from the strife and conflict, but still participating on their own terms. The world they came to had been renamed Refuge, and millions of refugees from across the galaxy had gathered there, seeking solace. A new culture had rose up, part Jedi, part clone, part bits and pieces of the shattered remains. It was a culture of healing and acceptance, with the leadership populated with clones and freedom fighters like Saw and Stella Guerrera. It was strange, monks existing in the midst of a hardened warrior culture, but it was a nice strange. Even Guardians of Jedha had come to help with the rebuilding. Two of them, Chirrut and Baze, were a fan favorite among the Initiates, and Tal’ika adored them, spoke of how they had hidden them and Plo once upon a time. A kyber cave had been discovered, and the Guardians stood watch over it.

He was happy. It was a strange thing. And now, today was a day to take another step into normalcy. Fox was very anxious to hear about how it went, like it was ever in doubt. It wasn’t like anyone was going to sweep Tal’ika up under Mace’s nose. Tal’ika knew who their master was. He’d already gotten the master-padawan quarters set up, not that they knew that. Fox had helpfully provided their favorite blanket from his house, and Obi-Wan had swung in to be present for it today, and Ahsoka was beside herself with planning for the confusing lineage dinner tonight. Anakin had helpfully broken into Yoda’s quarters with Caleb’s assistance to steal the ingredients for swamp stew. Mace needed to thank him privately for that one. He was turning Caleb into a borderline delinquent, but Mace wasn’t going to complain. So long as Luke and Leia didn’t follow in his footsteps. He wouldn’t be able to handle the twin terrors turning their attention onto him.

Depa was, of course, serene and above it all, but he had a feeling that she was the one that gave Anakin the idea.

The salles were drawing near, and he realized he was going to be late if he didn’t get a move on. The meeting with Bail had dragged out longer than he thought it would.

The open salles were a mess of prospective masters watching the new initiates. Tal’ika was stretching in the corner, breathing through the stretch and pull of their muscles, and Mace settled in next to Obi-Wan.

“Picking a padawan finally?” He asked mildly, and Obi-Wan gave him a side-eye, like he didn’t damn well know he’d had his eye on the tiny Zabrak Nightbrother Boil and Waxer had ‘liberated’ from Dathomir. Tenacity was cute, and an unholy terror when Tal’ika started their instigating, but he managed to get them to slow down on occasion. He was a good, calm, grounding influence. Obi-Wan, after all of the bullshit Anakin put him through, definitely deserved a calm padawan.

“It’s my child’s choosing day,” he said with a dignified sniff, but his attention was drifting to the tiny little brown child helping Tal’ika stretch. Anakin, the new fledgling Battlemaster, was chatting with Cin Drallig in the corner. Cin had been preparing him for the role over the past five years, and this was the first year Anakin had really been set loose on the temple and Initiates. It was a good role for him, and it kept him from causing more diplomatic incidents. Mace rather liked being able to nail him down to Refuge and not cause problems. Padme probably appreciated it, too. She loved her husband dearly, and loved their visits, but she also appreciated the Order keeping him in line and out of her work. After the fifteenth Ohnaka incident, Mace couldn’t say he was upset to have Anakin practically quarantined to the planet. The very idea of Anakin taking another bundle of padawans for a liberating slave run when they had Knights for that was enough to make him grateful for his lack of hair to lose.

“Have your friends made any more incursions into Dathomir?” Mace asked, and Obi-Wan went suspiciously silent.

“Well, if they did, they didn’t tell me outright.”

“... Obi-Wan.”

“They are simply not on the planet at the moment,” Obi-Wan sniffed, and Mace sighed.

“They’re not helping our reputation.”

“We didn’t snatch them. And they had the fathers’ permission last time.”

“They kidnapped the fathers last time, too.”

“And they are now in wonderful, fulfilling relationships. Boil and Waxer are quite taken with their husbands. Did you know they started a communal garden?”

“I’m sure it’s lovely.”

“Alright,” Anakin called and clapped his hands. “In your lines! Remember your blood circle!”

“Why does he keep calling the safety circle a blood circle,” Mace muttered, and Obi-Wan sniffed delicately.

“It stresses the importance of responsibility.”

And the Initiates were giggling. Again. But they were also lining up quite nicely, so Mace couldn’t be too upset.

“Let’s run through our katas!” Anakin called, and ignited his saber. Hisses broke out across the salles, and the Initiates all fell into proper form. A beat, and then Anakin started walking through their warm-ups, counting in time. Fifteen Initiates followed suit, and Mace’s attention was drawn to his future padawan adding in some excessive flourishes they were unashamedly not trying to hide. Ah, well. They were Obi-Wan’s kid, it was to be expected.

The warm-up lasted ten minutes, and he hummed as he watched Tal’ika comfortably fit into the flow of the proceedings.

“If you’re asking Tenacity today, bring him to the dinner,” he said, and Obi-Wan shot him a look.

“I didn’t say I was asking him.”

A nudge of the Force had the woven strips of leather to stand in for a braid shifting in Obi-Wan’s pocket, and Obi-Wan gave him an answering nudge to make Tal’ika’s beads clack in Mace’s own pocket.

“I had Depa bully Grey into making tiingilar. He liked it when Boil and Waxer made it,” Mace said, and Obi-Wan huffed.

“It’s rude to make them share the same day,” Obi-Wan sniffed, and Mace rolled his eyes as Tenacity’s gaze shot to Tal’ika as his wrist copied their unnecessary flourish.

“They share everything, anyways. Tal’ika is going to be miffed if they’re apprenticed before him, and he’s going to be disappointed.”

“Fine, yes, you caught me, I’m going to ask him,” Obi-Wan muttered, and Mace’s lips twitched up.

“Good. Fox is coming.”

“Did you invite the whole planet?”

“Absolutely not. Ahsoka did. Your lineage is going to make a mess of my quarters.”

“I’ll make sure Anakin picks up after himself.”

The warm-up came to a close, and Anakin ordered the little ones to take a water break before pairing up. Unsurprisingly, Tal’ika grabbed Tenacity and dragged him to the very center of the salle, like they somehow had something to prove, and Mace’s nose screwed up as the two shared a water bottle before Tal’ika gave a pointed pat to Tenacity’s horns and shot a deliberate glance over at Obi-Wan.

“I told you. They’d be mad,” he added, entirely unhelpfully, and Obi-Wan sighed.

“How many people will be at this dinner and do you have the space for another?”

“I already made space for him. And you, me, Tal’ika, Tenacity, Anakin, Depa, Grey, Yoda invited himself, and Plo followed, Wolffe is off world on the threat of swamp stew, Caleb, Fox, Cody, and Ahsoka. Anakin might bring the twins, so keep a close eye on your lightsaber. Leia has grown a penchant for blatant theft.”

“... Yoda is coming?” Obi-Wan looked downright pained, and Mace shot another glance at him.

“I have it on good authority that a mysterious thief pilfered his pantry.”

“Oh. Then that’s fine,” Obi-Wan said, and Mace snorted.

“He probably has a secret stash of ingredients, so put your negotiator face on, and you might survive.” Yoda was suspiciously absent from the proceedings, so Mace didn’t have much hope for escape. He should have really considered the logistics of lineage blending before he set his eyes on Tal’ika and decided on the spot that they were his padawan.

“Force spare me,” Obi-Wan muttered, and Mace bit back a smile. It was almost worth it to choke through the stew to see Obi-Wan’s reactions to being subjected to it for the umpteenth time.

“They’re starting.”

Tal’ika was giving Tenacity a bow, and Tenacity was following suit. A break, and then the exhibition started. As ever, Tal’ika was aggressive, in possibly the most blatant tease Mace had ever seen. Tenacity met it with good humor, his blade flashing as he smiled that quiet little smile he had perfected when it came to Tal’ika’s nettling. Elbows and knees Fox had unfortunately taught them were being thrown in, and Tenacity was blocking them with aplomb. Anakin had started an initiative for bringing in clones to help with training, and it showed. The initiates were not above cheap shots, and trained heavily to learn how to match and block them. It used to bother Mace, but he could see the importance of it, after the war. And the Initiates loved being encouraged to be sneaky and tricky. They got creative with it, and it showed when Tenacity caught a lunge by Tal’ika and flung them over his hip. Tal’ika went down, but their legs tangled up with his and the two twelve year olds ended up in a lump on the ground, laughing loudly when Tenacity’s face smacked into their nose.

The laughing abruptly stopped when Tal’ika realized that hurt, and then Tenacity just laughed at them again as he detangled himself and sprang back, blatantly baiting them. Mace sighed and rubbed at his eyes, and Tal’ika sprang into motion with a showy move, knocking his legs out from under him and pressing him to spring back, a wide swath of his blade putting some distance. Tal’ika pressed forward again, their sabers clashing, and their free hand grabbed his arm when he overextended himself in a lunge. They pulled him in, and a neat twist of their saber sent his hilt clattering away as they pulled him chest to chest, their saber teasingly placed in a way under his throat in a way that would have given Mace a heart attack if he didn’t know that at the most, it would maybe sting a little and irritate the skin.

“I win,” they said smugly, and Tenacity huffed.

“I want to go again,” he said, almost petulantly, and Mace idly wondered who had taught them that disarming move. It stank of Agen’s influence.

“... If we do joint missions, we’re going to have a problem,” Obi-Wan muttered, and Mace considered the merits.

“First mission we should unleash them on the Senate. Do you think Tenacity’s tooka eyes will be a devastating combo with their glares?”

“Absolutely. Rizz will love it. They might steal them.”

“I might let them.”

Anakin let them run a few more spars, where Tal’ika and Tenacity took turns disarming each other and winning, and Mace got a sinking suspicion that they had absolutely planned to take turns making the other look good. Like they somehow had anything to prove, but he’d let them show off. Both of them were advanced for their age, and it was definitely time for them to start receive targeted training.

The exhibition lasted a good hour, and at the end of it, Tal’ika made a beeline for Mace and Obi-Wan, dragging Tenacity in their wake, and Mace tilted his head at the beaming Initiate.

“That was a good show,” he said approvingly, and Tal’ika grinned up at him.

“Didn’t Tenacity do well?” They demanded, and color rose in Tenacity’s cheeks.

“Tal,” he muttered, aggrieved, but they shoved him at Obi-Wan without a shred of shame.

“Dad, you should give him pointers,” they said, and then promptly grabbed Mace by the hand to drag him off. “I’ll see you at dinner!”

The dinner they weren’t supposed to know about, but Mace had learned three years ago hiding anything from Tal’ika Fox was not unlike trying to hide things from Yoda. They found out, and nothing was ever a surprise, but he supposed he could be content with that.

“You’re in a rush,” he commented, and they hummed.

“Tenacity is nervous, so I gotta put on a good show,” they said, and Mace sighed. So they were nervous, and all of this confidence was for Tenacity.

“Obi-Wan already has his braid, so there’s nothing to worry about,” he assured them, and they smiled.

“I know. I put it in his pocket,” they said. “He almost left it in his quarters.”

“So that was you.”

“He was going to ask him next week! I can’t be a Padawan for a week without him! He’d feel left out!” They protested, and Mace thought about a lecture about attachments, but it wasn’t really an attachment. Just meddling to make sure Tenacity’s self esteem was at appropriate levels.

As soon as they were out of range of the milling Masters and Knights speaking quietly with prospective Initiates, Tal’ika sobered, and Mace patiently waited for them to stride through the halls.

“Have you been having dreams again?” He asked, and Tal’ika hesitated.

“Yes,” they answered honestly, and their brows drew together. “It’s... confusing.”

“Do you want to talk about them?” He asked. The dreams of the life they had narrowly avoided had plagued them since they first landed in the middle of a warzone, talking about how Obi-Wan was cooked in twin suns, and it had always confused them. Plo was meant to be their master in that time, and then maybe Obi-Wan was their master, and then they were dying in an alley under Krell’s blade, and then they were kidnapped by a man in black and raised a Sith, or they died at his mercy for crimes someone else committed. It was a rough subject for them, and led to a lot of confusion as to what they were supposed to do with their life and who they were meant to be.

“No,” they decided, and he let them continue to lead them through the twists and turns of the Temple, knowing full well where they were going. The gardens were at the center of their new home, and work was constantly being done on them. The two of them passed Knight Beleren and Padawan Qin, who gave them serious nods, and Mace gave them a suspicious glance, because Tibalt definitely looked too innocent. Hopefully, they weren’t about to go drag racing again.

Problems for later.

“Are you having doubts?” He asked, and Tal’ika was quiet as they stepped through the doors to the Garden.

“I don’t think...” They trailed off, and Mace waited them out as they followed the turns to their favored spot, a still pond with fish brought in from Mon Cala.

“It’s just that...” They trailed off as they came a halt at the tree that rose up next to the pond, and serious amber eyes locked onto the pond. “I want to be your padawan, but...”

Mace was silent. Sometimes, it was best to let them talk out loud, because they needed a sounding board more than they needed advice.

“I can see whole lives that never happened, and I almost want to mourn them, even though... I think this is the first time I had a choice. It feels like... before I had to fight to choose, had to dip into some kind of war just to be somebody, and most of my choices were ones I had to battle to have. Now, it’s easy, and it almost feels like a cheat. Because nothing was supposed to be easy, and now it is,” they admitted. “I don’t... I know everything is pre-destined, but how can it be pre-destined, when all of these things happened, I know they happened, and then they didn’t? It feels like mistakes kept being made, and the Force used me to mop them up, and now I don’t feel like...”

They fell silent, frustrated and a little lost, and Mace thought about their first meeting in a room he would likely never see again, sitting in the grass as they picked at his cuticles. Just a child, lost in a void, looking for guidance while firmly rejecting it at every turn. They had had a lot of meltdowns in those early days, had needed a lot of help to guide them through the confusion of their existence that had been ripped away from them, and he had always mourned a little when he looked at them. They had turned the tide of the war, and done it at seven, and Jedi had not known a single thing about helping them. It took the vode to settle them, those worn and battered soldiers that had been born and molded in trauma and knew exactly how to help a child that was terrified.

“There’s a lot of ideas about what destiny is,” Mace said finally, and they looked up at him with all of the vulnerability of a child. “All of us are a part of it, but what destiny is... you can’t quantify it. You can’t consider it. I imagine the confusion will never stop, but... all you can do in the face of it is make choices in spite of it. I think you made a lot of choices in spite of it, in all of the lives you lived and didn’t live, and I think you should just continue to do it. Anakin... he was meant to be the Chosen One, and he was, to a degree.” After all, it was Anakin that compiled the evidence, and it was Anakin that had delivered the killing blow, but none of that would have been possible in this time without Tal’ika. There was a lot of confusion in the aftermath as to who the Chosen One was, and what it meant, but Mace... “But his choices didn’t exist in a vacuum. Everyone made choices to put him in the place where he needed to be. I think he was just the point where those choices converged, but Chosen One is simply a chosen time, with someone existing in the middle of it. Destiny is nothing but the choices we make, and what we choose to do with them. So ignore who you are and what you want to be and who you could have been, and just... make the choice that will make you happy. There’s a lot of stock in choosing to be happy. People don’t give it enough credit.”

Tal’ika looked down at the ground, and Mace took a seat in the grass, just like he did five years ago, and they paused before slowly sinking down next to him.

“You won’t betray the masters that could have been if you choose me, and you won’t betray me if you choose them,” he promised, even though it hurt to say. “All I ask is that you don’t betray yourself, as you are now, and as you want to be. Can you do that?”

Tal’ika sniffled, and tears rose up in their eyes, and Mace took a deep breath.

“If you want me, you have me. So will you do me the honor of trusting me to guide you into being who you want to be?”

Tal’ika paused, and the silence stretched out, broken by the chirps of birds and the gentle hum of the Force. And then, all around them, the Force broke.

“Yes,” they whispered, and he smiled.

“Then, Tal’ika Fox, I honor your name as my padawan.”

A sniffle, and then they dabbed at their eyes and let out a halfhearted sob.

“Mace Windu, I know your name as my teacher.”

Mace smiled, and with a touch to their red hair, three strands gathered in his fingers, he accepted the next step into a better future.

[shannygoatgruff]

00:00:13

Genre: Social responsibility

Pairing: Alex Høgh Andersen/OC

Warning: Language, racial slur, prejudice, mention of the YouTube video

Rating: M+18

Header by: @flowers-in-your-hayr​

For: @xbellaxcarolinax​ - thanks for lending me an ear and encouraging me to continue writing this story

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on something I saw that evoked a feeling in me. I don’t know Alex or that guy in the video. I don’t own the rights to use him or anything else in my story. I’m just going off something out there on the internet that I wish wasn’t ever there for me to have to write a story about in the first place.

A/N:  So, I don’t know if this is the right time to post this story or not, but it’s been weighing heavily on my heart for some time now. During one of my many Alex rabbit hole stalking internet searches, I came across this YouTube video of him from a few YEARS ago that made me feel a certain kind of way.  Admittedly, I went through a ton of different emotions.  I made a bunch of excuses for him.  I tried to justify him being drunk, young, being from a different country...not understanding his actions.  As a black woman, I was saddened, and a little heartbroken, but I truly don’t think there was any malice behind it.  I think it was just poor judgment on his part. But, in the end, I came up with, he’s a grown man and as a public figure he needs to be more responsible.  

I am in no way trying to sway anyone’s opinion of him, turn you against him, make you seek the video out or anything else.  I just needed to speak MY truth and get my feelings out about the situation. I’ve been the black girl in too many interracial relationships and friendships with people that just don’t get it. I am in no way trying to offend anyone - these are just my feelings.  I just needed an avenue to speak out.  

Anyway, it didn’t turn out exactly how I wanted it, mainly because I was in my feelings, but I think it’s close enough.      

I’m still an Alex fan and he could get it, at ANY moment...just say the words, Boo!  😍

I invite your comments, thoughts, and feelings...if you just wanna talk, feel free to hit me up.  I’m always open to a good discussion.

With that, 

Be easy!

Thirteen seconds…Nia Howard could do a lot in 13 seconds.  For almost 10 minutes, she had been timing herself to see exactly what types of tasks she could perform in that amount of time.  

In 13 seconds Nia could lace her brand new blue and white checked Chuck Taylor Converse tennis shoe.  She was careful to lace the shoe so the strings were only threaded on the outside of the eye-loops, creating one thick solid line across the bridge, hiding the string feeding into the next eye-loop inside the shoe, just like she liked them. This was a trick she learned in Mrs. Hamilton’s 7th grade Math class, and she had been lacing her shoes that way ever since. 

13 seconds was all it took for her to guzzle 10 ounces of the Dasani water bottle sitting on her desk. She probably could have slammed more of the water down her throat, but she wasn’t that thirsty to begin with. Had she been parched, or had it been something that she wanted to drink, she was sure she could have gotten more than 10 ounces down in that amount of time. 

Nia also discovered that she could refill the liquid nicotine and change the filter in her vape, as long as everything was laid out in front of her, in 13 seconds. She was also able to screw the tank back together, but not put the tank back on the battery base before the timer went off.  That part still took her an additional 3 seconds.  Hmm. 

In 13 seconds, she was able to remove the back of the picture frame, take out the photo, and run her thumb over the glossy paper.  It took less than that amount of time for all of the emotions of the day to come flooding back to her as she stared at their first family photo. 

It had snowed at least a foot that day.  But there they were, outside sitting in all of that powder, freezing. Nia, her boyfriend, Alex, and their then 8-week-old Siberian husky, Vlad.  He thought it would be artistic.  She thought it would be cold.  Vlad thought it was fun, running around in snow deeper than he was tall.  But they were still smiling; they were happy.  They were in love.  

Alex was wearing his favorite navy blue The North Face snowsuit, that he had zipped up to his chin. You could only see the side of his pale face, with his cold red cheek, plump pink lips, and those dark lashes covering his incredible blue eyes.  The rest of him was so bundled up, he looked like the abominable snowman.  He loved the cold and the snow.  Growing up here, these snowy days in Denmark were nothing to him.  Nia, however, wasn’t quite as used to it.  It snowed on the East Coast of the US, but not like it did in Denmark.  Her pink and white snowsuit was more for fashion than warmth.  Sitting in the snow in between Alex’s legs, she was freezing and couldn’t wait for them to finish taking pictures.  

However, his arms were warm around her, and though his lips were cold against the side of her face, she could feel his warm breath tickle her ear as he laughed and told her how much he loved her.  She had leaned against his chest and noted how well her pink and white outfit matched his blue one.  Only her dark brown skin made a contrast against the snow and Alex’s complexion, but she still looked as if she belonged.  

She sat with her feet flat on the ground, knees drawn toward her chest bringing their brown and white puppy, the perfect mix between their two tones, closer to the two of them.  While her head leaned into Alex’s kiss, her eyes concentrated on little Vlad in her lap. She had him turned so the camera could capture his one blue eye and one brown eye, while she gently caressed their fur baby, drawing him in for a kiss on his soft, furry head.  

Could they be any cuter?  They were the perfect family.  They were a good looking couple with a good looking dog.  

Thinking about the day that photo was taken quickly made her mind drift back to the first time Alex told her he loved her. She could vividly remember how he grabbed her face and leaned in for that kiss.  The way he pressed his lips to hers, and how it set off every nerve in her body.  She remembered the way her heart fluttered and how she thought she was going to float right out of her skin. But when he pulled away and looked at her with those blue eyes, he grounded her and brought her right back to the spot where he was. When his eyes shifted between hers, desperately searching for some hint that she felt the same, she knew from that moment that he was the one for her.  That entire encounter, the weightlessness, grounding, feeling his eyes look through her and hearing his heart speak her name, couldn’t have taken more than 13 seconds. She was sure it happened all at the same time.

With everything she timed, 13 seconds seemed like it passed in the blink of an eye.  It was manageable if she had a task to complete, but by no means was it a significant amount of time.  So why did it feel like an eternity, each time she watched that damn video clip?  The more she watched it, the longer it became.  That damn 13-second video clip brought out of her a new set of emotions each time she viewed it.

At first, it was shocking.  She couldn’t register anything she saw because she was too surprised at what she saw. The only thing she could process was the feeling of, Huh? 

So, she watched it again, and this time she did so with a goofy smirk on her face. The smirk was the smirk of embarrassment. Embarrassment for her, for him, for them... for not knowing how to feel.  

She had to sit with it for a few minutes before she could watch it a third time. Instead of just jumping right into again, she decided to go back to the original email and reread the message.  She had been so put off by the video that she forgot what it was that she was being asked to do about it.

When she clicked back on the email from her office and skimmed the contents she could only shake her head. Did they actually expect her to handle this?   Really?  She was a publicist.  His publicist, but come on.  This was asking a bit much, no?  There were 14 other people in that damn firm that could have handled this, even if Alex was her client.  He was still a client of the fucking firm. What was she supposed to do?

Without thinking, she put her thumb to her mouth and started biting the cuticle around her new French manicure.  She had been doing so well with that, too. She only bit or picked at the cuticles on her nails when she was nervous or angry – that’s why she made sure to keep her nail appointments every two weeks. She didn’t want to have ugly cuticles on freshly designed nails.  Now she just wasted 264 DKK.

By the third time she watched the video, she went numb.  She couldn’t tell what she felt, all she knew was her mind wouldn’t let her feel anything.  A million different thoughts and emotions swirled around her, but none of them actually hit her, yet. The best way she could explain it was akin to having an out of body experience.  It felt like the glass desk she sitting at was getting further away from her while her laptop screen continued to get smaller.  She started to see the room she sat in as a person watching this scenario from somewhere else, and as long as she wasn’t directly connected to it, she could continue to disassociate with it. Instead, she could only sit there, with her mouth open, staring blankly at this distant laptop screen, unable to process what the fuck she just saw.  

There were no words. No thoughts.  There was nothing.  Only the feeling of adrenaline coursing through her veins and the sound of her heart breaking in a million pieces, as 13 seconds altered the course of her world.  

Ten minutes had to have passed before Nia clicked the replay button on the YouTube video to watch the clip for the fourth time.  She was in a better place now.  She had gotten up, got a drink of water. Practiced a bunch of things she could do in 13 seconds.  She had refocused.  She could watch it now and deal with it with a clear head. She wasn’t sure how many times she had watched it before – it hadn’t registered. She was still in shock from that initial viewing. But, she needed to watch it again because she had to dissect it.  

Placing her chin in her hand, she didn’t give a fuck if she was transferring her Mahogany Shape Tape foundation and Cocoa Bean Black Radiance pressed powder on her palm.  Fuck the papers that were going to be stained from the makeup transfer.  That was a gripe for another day - black women that wore makeup always had issues with the transfer.  It was the plight of the beauty revolution.  She’d fight that battle another day.  Right now, there more important things to deal with. 

Where the hell were her earphones?  She needed to have the audio go directly into her ears.  There was no time to have the sound filter throughout the loft’s office and possibly get distorted. She needed every word to go directly from the computer, in her ear, and into her brain for immediate translation. Maybe she missed something. Maybe she misinterpreted it. Yea…that was it.  This was on her. It had to be, right?

Plugging in her Beats headphones, she placed them on her ears and turned up the volume on her laptop.  She took in a deep shaky breath and hit the replay button for the fourth time. 

Nope, she hadn’t imagined it.  It was still the same.  He was still having fun, hanging out with those same stupid fucking people.  He was still talking in that same drunken tone.  He still thought everything was so fucking funny and laughed at every fucking thing.  

Why did he do that laugh?  It was laugh he used when he was really tickled.  The one that he accompanied by clapping his hands because he was genuinely amused. It was that laugh that she loved the most.  It was that laugh that made her laugh too, usually.  It was that laugh that brought tears to her eyes.  

What the fuck was he thinking? When was he going to learn? There were so many of these kinds of questions she wanted to ask, but did it matter? Did he ever really have to answer them?  It was always going to be different for him for so many reasons. The question was, did she want to stick it out and deal with it?  

This wasn’t the first time he had done something so irresponsible, so insensitive. She knew it wouldn’t be his last.  The problem was, he never seemed to understand why it was a problem.  Quite frankly, she tired of trying to be his teacher.

Just as she sat the headphones back on the desk, she heard the key in the front door lock.  She didn’t want to deal with him right now. She needed more time to digest everything before she talked to him, otherwise, this wasn’t going to be a productive conversation. 

Nia was not the type of person that liked to argue, let alone, have a conversation when she was angry.  Her words were always carefully weighed, and she very rarely said anything out of anger. Hurting someone’s feelings, being misunderstood, and saying something that she would later regret were things that she tried to avoid.  It wasn’t that she was non-confrontational, she was just reserved, that way.  She didn’t grow up in a house where people yelled or used words to hurt each other.  She didn’t believe in doing that, and she wasn’t going to bring that into her relationship, no matter how passionate Alex could get about a situation.  But the way she was feeling right now, all bets were off.  

“Hallo, Vlad.  Have you been a good boy?” She heard his voice from the hallway rise an entire octave as he addressed their 10-month-old Siberian husky.  She could tell by the way Vlad whined and his paws scratched against the hardwood floors that he was jumping on up Alex.  All of that money they were spending on dog training and Alex was still letting Vlad jump on him. Nia shook her head in irritation.  “I missed you, too, boy.  Where’s Mama, huh?” 

Nia remained frozen to the spot.  She did manage to reach for her vape, on her desk, and noticed how the muscles in her neck and shoulders shook with tension.  Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to unclench her jaw.  She just needed a few more minutes to herself.  If he could just go upstairs, or in another room and leave her alone, she would be able to talk to him about this later. But, knowing him, that wouldn’t happen. 

He would keep pushing and pushing until he found out what was wrong with her and before she knew it they would be in a fight.  A fight that she would be actively participating in.  

“Babe?” He called out, making his way across their loft.  His voice getting closer to her office door. “Hey, babe,” he awkwardly raised his hand in greeting, to accompany his words, followed by his thousand-watt smile. “I got us cheesecake from a new bakery.  Casper speaks highly of them.”

Nia looked at her boyfriend and she could feel the hot sting of tears forming at the back of her eyes. Immediately, she dropped her gaze, not wanting to address him or the situation at the moment.  She managed to nod slowly as she continued to work her now jagged cuticle.

To the rest of the world, Alex Høgh Andersen was the model, actor, and photographer that walked on water, ate bullets, and shit ice cream.  He was the sexy heartthrob that had over a million Instagram followers.  The guy that couldn’t post a picture of taking out the trash without it being sent over 5 continents and 35 countries in a matter of minutes.  He had over 2,000 fan sites, and countless fan fictions written about him…fans adored him the world over and he was only 25. He was fucking perfect.  

To Nia, he was just her Alex.  Her clumsy, silly boyfriend, who never put his clothes in the hamper and always left the toilet seat up.  He was the guy that loved to cook but never cleaned the dishes.  He was the one that was always singing or beat-boxing or banging on something trying to make music.  He was always tried to make people laugh.  He was loud, goofy, and drank too much. He smelled awful after a workout and had the messiest bed head when he let his hair grow.  He sometimes smacked when he chewed and always talked with his mouth full.  He was a clown, but he meant well.  He was sweet, and thoughtful and always treated her like she was the most important woman in the world.  

Nia never had one reason not to trust him...until now.

“Baby,” he took in the expression on her face and rounded the glass desk to where she was sitting.  Kneeling in front of her seat, he turned her swivel chair to face him and took her hands in his, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

She raised her eyes wide and looked at a place on the bookshelf, right over his left ear. Refusing to look into those beautiful blue eyes of his and lose her train of thought.  She felt the sweat start at her top lip, something that always happened right before she was about to cry, but she fought the urge.  

“Alex,” she tried to keep her voice steady, but she was pumped full of adrenaline and emotion so it shook involuntarily, “what the fuck?” She pulled her hand from him and turned her laptop toward him.  Hitting the play button on the YouTube video again, she played the 13-second clip for him.  

Alex watched himself, drunk as hell, outside of a night club in Ireland with friends.  He asked his friend to do part of a skit from one of his favorite comedians.  He knew exactly what was on this clip.  He’d seen it, and still thought it was funny. “What’s wrong?”

Nia didn’t say anything, she just let the clip play.  Alex’s friend, Danny, this clout chasing, promoter fuck stood in the shot with him.  Out of Alex’s mouth came the line from Kevin Hart’s Seriously Funny Comedy routine, “Go night, night, nigga?”

He had said it low as if he was talking to Danny, asking him to perform the line from the stand-up.  So what does the little hanger on do?  Danny, who is black, does a really bad, really loud Kevin Hart impression for Alex and the camera, “Go night, night, Nigga!”  

Alex then comes back in the scene and repeats it and they all laugh because it’s so damn funny.  Alex disappears from the screen because he’s laughing so hard, but Danny is still there, shit-talking about having a big dick.  When Alex returns, the two of them end the video with a rousing chorus of “Alright, alright, alright…”  

She didn’t say anything to him, she just looked.  She searched his face for some sort of understanding, some kind of recognition. Something.  But when he turned back to face her and all she saw was confusion she felt her shoulders drop and the first fat tear roll down her face. “Wow.”

“Honey,” he lifted a brow, not quite sure what his crime was.  He knew she didn’t like Danny, but he hadn’t even seen him since he was in Ireland last.  It had to have been a few months. “This was months ago,” he reassured her, with his Danish accent punctuating his English words, “I know you think I drink too much and you don’t like to see me drunk.  It’s no good when it goes viral.  But, we were just fooling around.  It’s nothing to cry about.”  He cupped her cheek in his hand, hand brushed away her tear with his thumb.  His blue eyes moved swiftly between her brown orbs.  “Where did you even find this?”

“Your fucking manager sent it to me, Alex.  They want me to fix this shit.  I’m supposed to make all of this go away.  Me...your fucking black girlfriend - I have to make this racist bullshit you pulled go away.”  She should smack him.  She should.  It would be justified, right? “How in the fuck am I supposed to do that when you think being drunk was the fucking problem with this video?”    

“I’m not a racist,” he said with genuine shock, “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t. You never do.” She got up from her chair, suddenly needing to distance herself from him.  “Why do I always have to be the one to educate you?  You are a grown man.  I shouldn’t have to explain this shit!  You DON’T get to say that word, Alex.  EVER.” She pointed a well-manicured finger in his direction, “It’s hurtful.  It’s hateful.  It’s ignorant.  And coming from YOU, it’s fucking devastating.” 

He was confused. What was she so upset about?  What exactly had he done wrong?  Turning around in his place, he slowly stood up and leaned against the desk.  Legs outstretched, arms folded across his chest in a defensive position he could tell that his girlfriend of three years was upset. Not just the regular run of the mill upset, either.  Something he had done had really bothered her.  

“Nia,” he breathed her name with a smirk on his face, “I think you’re making way bigger a deal of this than it is.  Danny was there, he didn’t care.  If I had said something bad, he would have told me.”  He pleaded with his face for her to trust him on this, it was all a misunderstanding.  “We were just joking. Besides, I didn’t say the bad word – the one with the other ending.  I changed it. We were just doing the part from the Kevin Hart comedy.” 

“Alex,” she straightened her posture and spoke very clearly so that he could understand her.  There was something in the way that he was dismissing what she had said to him that was really rubbing her the wrong fucking way, “You are not Kevin Hart.”  She did not crack a smile when he did.  She kept her face stoic and refused to drop his gaze.  “You are not black.  YOU don’t get to use that word, or any variation, thereof.”

Rolling his eyes, Alex relaxed his posture and lifted his face toward the ceiling. Is this what he came home for?  He could have still been hanging out with his friends for all this.  At least they wanted to have fun tonight.  It was a Friday for crying out loud, was this how they were going to start their weekend?  It was the first one in months that neither of them had to work.  They had been planning this weekend for forever, it seemed. They were supposed to be Netflix & chilling, drinking wine, having breakfast in bed…nowhere in their itinerary were they supposed to be fighting over a stupid joke.  

Alex’s hand covered most of his face, as he rubbed his eyes and tried to gather his thoughts. He didn’t want to argue.  He wanted to change out of his hoodie and jeans, and get into some comfortable sweats.  He wanted to feed Vlad and cook dinner with her.  He wanted to eat in front of the TV while they caught up on this season of How to Get Away with Murder, which they promised each other not to watch until they were together.  “Jesus, Nia, why do you always blow things out of proportion?”

“Why do I.. I’m sorry?  Do I always blow things out of proportion?  Really?” She looked around the room as if he were talking to someone else, “Are you fucking shitting me, right now? Blowing shit out of proportion?  Why do you always have to be such an insensitive prick?”  She watched as he threw up his hands and walked out of the room mumbling under his breath.  “Yeah, say that shit in English, Alex, since you have such a grasp of the fucking language.” 

God, she was doing it.  She was doing everything that she never wanted to do when she argued.  She was speaking out of anger.  She losing the point.  She didn’t have one anymore, she was just mad. “Really…I don’t know who the fuck you think you playing with, but I am not the one.”  

Taking off his jacket and throwing it on the couch, Alex turned around to face his girlfriend.  He paid particular attention to the way her chest rose and fell when she was heated like this. He had always thought she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, but now her anger didn’t match her beauty. “I don’t know what your problem is, Nia, or what you think I did, but I told you, it was a joke.  All of this, it’s not fair to take it out on me.  You owe me an apology for starting on me for no reason when I just walked in the house.”  

He flopped down on the couch and leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose.  He could feel a headache beginning right between his eyes and he knew it was from tension. 

“What part of this don’t you understand?  You offended me. You offended black and brown people all over the fucking world, thanks to YouTube.  I don’t have to apologize for shit.  You and your little fucking troll friend need to be apologizing!” She started walking around in a circle, she felt just that crazy at the moment. 

Nia looked over at the corner to Vlad.  His blue eye and brown eye lowered to the floor in sadness, as his parent argued. Her heart broke for their baby, but it couldn’t be helped. “Obviously your manager thinks this is a big fucking deal if they sent this shit to be fixed.  Alex, you can’t go around offending people.  You are in the public eye, whether you want to be or not. You have fans that are from every walk of life - do you know how many of them you just insulted? You need to be more responsible for your actions and the shit that comes out of your mouth.”  

“Nia, I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal.  I hear that word a hundred times a day. It’s not a problem.  It’s in every song. It’s on American TV…Danny and your brother-in-law call me that all the time.  I’m not a racist.  I’m in love with a black woman.”  He found himself raising his voice because no matter what he was saying, she didn’t seem like she was understanding, “One time,” he held his finger up to emphasize his point, “I do a part from a comedy that I like, with my black friend, and you lose your damn mind.”  

“What the fuck, yo?” Was she going crazy? She tried to inhale clean air, and exhale the poison before she spoke, however, it wasn’t helping.  All she could do was rub her temples. “Danish, American...it doesn’t fucking matter does it?”

“What doesn’t?”   

“Your privilege?” She rubbed her temples slowly and tried to crack her neck. “I’m gonna say this real slow so you can translate it into whatever the fuck language you need to understand it.  I don’t care how much trap music you listen to. You don’t get to say that word. I don’t care if you know the words to every Kendrick Lamar song.  You don’t get to say that word.  I don’t care how many black friends you have. You don’t say that word.  I don’t care what my brother-in-law calls you, or me, or the man in the moon.  You don’t say that word.”  

She got closer to the couch and bend down so that he could hear her.  Barely opening her teeth to speak, she made her point crystal clear, “And I certainly don’t care if you are fucking me or a 100 other black girls, it doesn’t make you black.  You still don’t get to say that word!”

“Oh my God, Nia! It’s a fucking word.”

Was she talking to herself?  Was he that clueless?  Where there no words in Danish that meant anything like it?  They had racism all over the world, surely there was a word in his language that used to oppress another culture to the effect that that word had been used to tear down black people, but black Americans especially.  Nia didn’t know what it meant to other black people, she could only tell him what it meant to her.  

“Do you know what’s like to have no identity, Alex?  Do you know what it’s like to still be referred to as the term they used when they listed you in catalogs to be bought and sold like an animal?  It was no different than saying the word ‘cow’ – it was a word to describe cattle. That’s what an entire country thought of people that look like me.  For no other reason than the color of my skin.”  She couldn’t stop the tears from pooling in her eyes.  She was so beyond mad that her voice was eerily quiet.  “Those people didn’t do anything to deserve it.  They were just born next to the equator.” She shrugged her shoulders in defeat.

“That word stripped men of their role in the family and made some impotent and others were turned into bucks that were only good for breeding…it broke them. It made women broodmares, whose job was to have babies to keep plantations going.  Families were sold apart no different than how Vlad was taken from his mother because he’s a dog.” She pointed to their puppy hoping that he would understand, “They thought it was okay to do that to my ancestors because of that word. Alex, I don’t care how much you hear that word. When you say it, that’s what it feels like to me. That I don’t exist.  That Nia doesn’t exist. That I’m no different than Vlad. But, here’s the rub - in all the time we’ve had him I have never once heard you refer to him as a dog.  But now you used the word nigga, and you think it’s funny.  So, I have to wonder now, how do you describe me?”

He was dumbstruck. 

He didn’t mean any of that when he said it.  It was a joke.  It was an homage to Kevin Hart.  It was fucking funny.  He understood that she was hurt, but he didn’t quite get why she was hurting. “I see that this hurt you. I’m sorry about that.  It was not my intention.”  He reached out to touch her and retrieved his hand when she pulled away, “If it was wrong, why didn’t Danny correct me?”

“That little fucker?” God, she hated him.  “Because he set your ass up and you’re too fucking stupid to know it.”  She didn’t mean that.  She didn’t want to hurt him just because he had hurt her.  But she was tired of telling him the same thing over and over again. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that little bastard is not your friend?  Do you remember how we met?  The drunken video he posted of you doing the Haka dance that ended up all over the internet? Do you remember how I had to spin that shit to save your career?”  She rolled her eyes and stood up from the couch. “Whenever you pop a bottle, that little clout chaser is always right there with a fucking camera.”  

“He’s not like that, he’s my friend.”

“He set your ass up! It’s a game, Alex!  Black guys play it all the time.  See if you can make your white friend say the word. Only, I’m surprised he didn’t punch you in the mouth afterward.  Cause that’s what they’d’ve done in the States.  But maybe things worked differently in Ireland.”  

“Whatever,” Letting out a frustrated sigh, Alex resigned.  

“Right. Whatever.” Walking back into her office, she slammed the lid closed on her laptop before throwing it and a few files into her work bag. “Un-fuckin-believable.”  She left out of the office and sat her bag on the floor by the door before she walked across the hardwood floors towards the stairs. “Move, Vlad,” she said lovingly rubbing her big four-legged baby on the head.  

Vlad made no intention of moving as if he was purposely trying to stop her from ascending the stairs.  Instead, the dog looked at her, then back at Alex, before turning his gaze back at her. “Vladimir, honey, I need you to move.” She watched as her 50-pound defiant child laid on the bottom step and put his brown and white head on his paws. “Fine,” she said, skipping a step to climb over him and made her way up the rest of the stairs, rolling her eyes when the dog followed behind her.

Alex followed behind them and stood in the doorway of their bedroom watching as grabbed a handful of items; a t-shirt, toothbrush, and hair scarf. This entire argument had been blown way out of proportion. Now she was leaving?  “Baby, where you going?”

“Away from you.”

Tags:   @oddsnendsfanfics​​  @a-mess-of-fandoms​​​ @waiting4inspiration​ @simsadventures​​ @chipster-21​​  @tgrrose​​  @alicedopey​​   @thelastemzy​​​  @naaladareia​​ @alexa4040​​ @absolutelynotanidiot​​ @pokeasleepingsmaug​​ @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme​​ @skadithegoddess​​   @geekandbooknerd​​​ @dreamlesswonder86​​ @inforapound​ @youbloodymadgenius​​ @cruelfvckingsummer​​ @mummybear​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​​ @honestsycrets​ @jzr201​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @ivarthebloodyking​

[jasonrae117]

Night at the Wayne Casino

This is gonna be a long one, I took the advice from @bourniebna and made it longer but also making it into two parts and leaving it on a semi-cliffhanger. Thank you everyone for the support and love! Enjoy! 

PART 3

Damian found himself on the third floor, a place he thought he would never be. Filled with rooms upon rooms of well equipped and private spaces for massages, mud baths, facials, and anything and everything a five-star spa could hold. He would never require the services provided here since he disliked physical contact unless it was necessary or it was self-initiated, which it typically wasn’t. Damian kept it simple with occasional handshakes or a pat on the shoulder.

When it came to women, he had been with a few. His name was enough by itself to get him laid easily, and where that wasn’t enough, his physique helped greatly. Anything that wasn’t strictly helpful to his endgame seemed inefficient and he always strived for maximum efficiency.

Here he was crossing the threshold to the Wonder Spa, a highly rated and regarded spa for ultimate luxury and innovation in experiences. He approached the reception desk where the two top ranked masseuses and overall spa managers sat preparing their completely packed schedules for the day, Cassandra ‘Cassie’ Sandsmark and Stephanie Brown.

Stephanie looked up from her tablet and a bright smile graced her face. “Damian Wayne? I never thought I’d see the day where you came to the spa!” Beside Stephanie, Cassandra perked up, eyes widened and mouth opened in excitement.

“Oh wow! Stress built up that much? We do have a full appointment schedule but we can squeeze you in.” Damian’s face remained the same, with a bored expression waiting out their excitement. He didn’t dislike the two employees, but they tended to be too peppy and care more about gossip and people’s personal lives, specifically his and whether or not it contained a girl. It was very tiresome and he currently didn't have the time nor was in the mood for their antics.

“Didn’t you say the spa was for weak patsies that like to hand over ridiculous sums of money for frivolous treatments?” Cassie thoughtfully brought a finger to her chin. 

“No, I think it was that the spa was a bloodthirsty capitalistic vampire sucking money from dim-witted fools that think worthless products and services will actually make them look or feel better when in reality their lives were already a waste.” Stephanie’s eyes searching the ceiling for his quote. They both broke out in laughter and faced him again when they had calmed down. 

He hadn’t moved an inch and he tried to remain calm but the overly floral scents and the girl’s mocking were grating on his nerves.

Cassie placed her tablet on the desk and rested her chin on her palm as she looked back up at him. “So really, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Damian let out a small breath and mentally counted to ten. “Yesterday a woman had possibly come here and I want any information you have on her.”

Cassie and Stephanie exchanged glances before focusing on him again. Stephanie rolled her eyes and began typing on her tablet. “Is this about Raven? What is it with all you boys?”

Damian couldn’t help the shock that appeared on his face. “How did you-”

“Oh, that one that Tim sent! God, she was gorgeous!” Cassie practically bounced in her seat. 

“Yeah she is. Her skin was incredibly smooth. Cassie’s skin is pretty perfect, but this woman’s was literally flawless. I mean, it’s insane with her skin tone, no freckles or blemishes, just absolutely stunning skin.” Damian tried to fight the heat that rose to his face remembering how remarkable she looked coming out of the pool and the tiny droplets that rolled down her smooth curves, luckily Stephanie turned back to her friend, “I asked her what products she uses and what her routine is, you know what she said? She said she just washes it with some drugstore face wash and that’s it. She said she drinks a lot of water too. Luck and good genes I swear." 

"Perfect skin, gorgeous, and that body! I'm pretty stacked, but her ass! I'm literally jealous. That's why all the boys are crazy about her." Cassie shrugged and leaned back.

"Sandsmark, Brown! I'm here on official business. What's this about 'all the boys'? Who else is discussing her?" Damian crossed his arms and felt his irritation coming to a peak. 

"Oh my gosh! Do you have the hots for her too! First Jason, then Tim. I liked her too but you boys are wild. I wish I got this much attention." 

"Brown, focus. How did you know I was talking about Miss Roth?"

"Like I was saying, Jason hung out with us after we all got off and he wouldn't shut up about the 'hot girl that dissed him'..."

"Oh, I loved when she told him that he was a..what was it?" Cassie then snapped her fingers. "A delusional cockalorum who thinks boyish tricks will woo a woman that has even the tiniest bit of self worth and respect. He didn't even know what that meant!" She burst out into another round of laughter.

"You had to look it up too!" Stephanie shook her head giggling at the memory. Her eyes caught the glare Damian's was sending and she cleared her throat. "Anyway… yesterday a woman, Raven, came in with Tim's employee discount card. She was very nervous, but naturally we were curious because it's Tim's card. She told us what happened and we sent her to change so that we could call Tim. He confirmed everything and told us to give her the works and put it on a tab for him."

Cassie was nodding to the story and jumped in. "We thought this girl must be special and were curious so during her treatments we got to talking. She told us her point of view from the Jason situation and we bonded over horror stories of men hitting on us." She smiled fondly.

"She was actually really nice and tried to pay for the services but clearly we couldn't let her. She snuck a three hundred dollar tip into our drawer though. Literally one of the best clients we had. Then Tim swung by and asked her to dinner and walked her out of here. After that we don't know. We invited her to go to a club with us on Friday because she seemed so cool, but she's leaving on Tuesday." Stephanie huffed and brought her attention back to the tablet. 

"She didn't say anything about why she's here by herself?" He questioned, this trip becoming less informative and more of a nuisance than he had hoped. 

Stephanie sighed loudly, eyes focused as she tried to recall the memory, "Oh, yeah. She said something about working in advertising and having to analyze the ads and products and survey something. Poor girl has to work while in Vegas, major bummer. She says she tries to work during the days and play at night. Except yesterday, she felt like she needed that."

Damian processed this new data. Stephanie's information regarding Raven's occupation matched with what Tim had found on her. That would usually be a point in her favor, but if she was as crafty and smart as Damian suspected her to be, then she could have easily set up an almost alter ego that checks out and have her backstory memorized. Her good looks probably swaying prying minds from digging deeper. No matter, he wasn't so easily duped.

"I don't blame her...Now the only question that remains, is why do you care Damian?" Cassie looked suspicious and leaned slightly forward.

"She is a suspect in the casino. We don't have hard proof but something doesn't sit well with me when it comes to her." 

"Maybe because Tim swooped in before you could." Stephanie mumbled under her breath. 

Damian scoffed at the remark "Enough. That is all I wanted. Now proceed with your opening procedures." He nodded farewell to them and began toward the exit.

"She asked about you…" Cassie looked at her nails acting nonchalant.

He quickly snapped around, his full attention on Cassie. "What did you tell her? Why did she want to know?" His eyes narrowed.

"Calm down. We talked about Tim and she said that she ran into you a few times and said it seemed like you were always near her. We told her that you're the head of security and take it too seriously, like an assassin traveling by shadows waiting for someone to break a rule so you can strike. It got a pretty good laugh."

"Yeah but the best part is how she described you. If she didn't accept Tim's dinner invite, I swear she'd be ready to jump your bones..or uh bone." Stephanie dramatically winked at him and they began to giggle again. 

Damian kept his face stern but found it hard to swallow. He wanted to ask what Raven has said about him, but he feared it may unintentionally come across as sexually interested rather than a desire to know all information in an objective manner for the sake of the case. But perhaps he was a bit...interested. Not that he would ever admit it out loud. 

"Great. Did either of you think it might be unwise to divulge the status of all our employees to a stranger that may be trying to con our casino or worse? Or perhaps, you just want to hand her a key card so she can just as easily access it all by herself."

Stephanie rubbed at her temple and loosened her grip on the tablet, her words trying to coax him to a more manageable level of irritation,"Damian, relax. It's not hard to figure out that you're some big bad security for the casino. You literally stare people down and nothing else all day. You don't even try to blend in. She seemed to meet a bunch of us by accident or by everyone else's own will. It's not like she's seeking all of us out. I think you need to let it go or get laid or-" 

"And I think this is why you weren't given a position on the security team and instead washed up here as a servant to drunk simpletons." His words spewed out like venom as he scowled at her.

"Ok, I think we've done our part in your stupid investigation. We have actual work to do." Cassie stood up and placed her hands on her hips.

"Tt. Then I suggest you get to it and try not to gossip or discuss our business with clients." He growled out and turned on his heel. 

"Ay ay captain." Cassie saluted with a roll of her eyes.

Damian left the spa more frustrated than he went in. No matter how attractive she was, he wouldn't let her get to him. He had two and a half days to catch her and prove himself. 

Raven was a slippery snake and she was able to wiggle her way out of suspicion with everyone else, but not him. 

Damian groaned as he started to feel a headache coming on. He made it back down to the first floor of the casino and was about to start patrolling before he remembered it was his day off. If it were up to him, he wouldn't take one. Criminals didn't take days off but his father insisted due to laws regarding the matter. 

He just had to stay away from Jon and Richard since they'd be the first to call him out and force him to leave. He couldn't actively patrol but he could visit his coworker in the security room, picking up his notebook he had 'accidentally' left behind. 

He had to keep tabs on Raven if he wanted to get a step ahead of her. His talk within the spa proved almost useless except finding out that she was interested in him, in possibly more ways than one. Damian shook the thought from his head. That's what she wants me to think. He climbed the stairs to the second floor and looked across the large room to the hallway where the security room was located.

He would have proceeded normally had it not been for the two figures draped over each other tangled in a heated kiss. His primal instinct was to sprint over to them and yank Tim off of Raven and throw him as far away as he could, and lead Raven away to where they'd be alone. He shut his eyes as tightly as he could cutting off that train of thought. After a deep breath he refocused on the pair.

Tim had her pinned against the wall and his hands were roaming over her navy lace dress. Fuck, why did she have so many sexy dresses and why did they have to look THAT good on her? His jaw tightened as her hands curled in Tim's hair pulling him closer. Tim brought his mouth to her neck and Damian almost lost it when his hand slid to the curve of her ass. 

He immediately began to head over as soon as Tim pulled out his key card and inserted it in the lock, clumsily pressing his finger on the scanner until it clicked open for him. Damian watched as Tim pulled Raven inside and although he couldn't hear past the noise of the music and sounds of the slot machines, he was sure she let out a surprised gasp. He cleared the space slower than he would have liked, but he couldn't exactly plow through everyone that got in his way. 

He stopped as he reached the door and flushed when he heard a moan that definitely came from the woman within. He couldn't take it. Not only was he not the biggest fan of Tim Drake, he was harboring a suspect, while on duty, in an authorized personnel only area. He was a bit scared of what he might walk into but that was his woman in there...his wanted woman...fuck, his suspect. He slammed his card in and held his thumb to the scanner and he was quickly granted access.

His face was crimson with the rage that filled him and his fists were clenched. Suddenly though, the red in his face went from being caused by his anger to being caused by the sight in front of him. 

Raven was in nothing but black lacy panties, a matching bra, and thigh high stockings held up by a garter belt. Her ivory skin shone brightly through the lace and the blush on her cheeks added to the look. Her swollen lips were parted and her head was thrown back as Tim was in the process of kissing down her chest as one of her bra straps hung off her shoulder. She was sitting on the desk with all the papers pushed aside and Tim between her legs with his own shirt unbuttoned. 

Damian was shocked at how quickly they had moved in the relatively short time it had taken him to cross the casino floor, but in reality it was only one piece of clothing missing. 

Taking one last look at her and committing it to memory, Damian steeled his resolve and regained his stiff posture and his menacing glare. "What the hell are you doing Drake!" 

"Fuck!" Tim broke away from her and Raven yelped and covered herself, climbing off the desk. "Shit Damian, what the fuck are you doing?"

"I asked you that and I have yet to be given an answer!" His voice began to raise in volume.

"Can we talk about it in a second." Tim began smoothing his hair and attempted to straighten his clothes.

"Why the hell is there a guest in the security room and why are you trying to fuck her on company property on company time!" 

Damian noticed Raven slowly bending down to reclaim her dress without exposing herself further. Damian scoffed and turned around giving her a small bit of privacy. He heard the shuffle of fabric and she quietly cleared her throat.

He turned back around and narrowed his eyes at the woman whose face was now bright red with embarrassment. "I should...uh..go. I'm sorry, really." She had stepped closer to him and licked her lips uncomfortably. "It's my fault. It won't happen again. Uh..thank you?" She shyly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and slipped past him. 

Once she was gone, Damian turned his attention back to Tim who had just finished buttoning up his shirt. Tim held out his hands in surrender. "I know. Trust me, I know it all. I'll report myself. I wasn't thinking and I compromised our security. Although nothing actually happened thanks to you. And I don't mean to be snarky about it, I know that I probably wouldn't have stopped myself at all. But it's not her fault. So please don't turn this into one of your theories about her. I take full responsibility."

"You disgust me Drake. Can't even control your urges when it comes to your job. You'll be lucky if you even have one tomorrow. If it wasn't close to prime time and short notice, I'd dismiss you right now." Damian stood tall and crossed his arms, staring Tim down.

Tim took in a deep breath and released it slowly as he plopped into the computer chair. "Noted. I..um..think I've wasted enough time. I'll get started on the report and do a few sweeps of the casino." He didn't look Damian in the eye and pulled up to the desk, a blush rising to his cheeks while he rearranged the papers that had been strewn about. 

"Good, about time you take your job seriously. Although a bit too late in my opinion." He watched as Tim's movements stilled and his fists clenched. He didn't make a move though, it would be futile. Damian let out a small laugh before exiting the office.

He began planning his next move to get more information on Raven that didn't involve her revealing more skin. Although he enjoyed what he saw, it distracted him and that wasn't good for his mission. A cheery voice broke his thoughts as he was crossing the casino floor.

"Hey Damian." Jon walked up to him a look of concern overlaying his usual happy demeanor. "I saw Raven fleeing from here." Great, was everyone on a first name basis with his number one target? "You didn't terrorize her with an interrogation without me, did you?" He playfully nudged his shoulder and added a chuckle trying to mask the seriousness of his question. 

"No, Jon. I just caught Drake almost fucking her in the security room."

"Oh. Tough break…" Damian scowled at him. "I mean, wow unbelievable. So, what's your next move?"

"You all are infuriating. Could, at least you, stop implying that I'm trying to court our top suspect?" Damian began walking toward the elevator with Jon following right beside him.

"I would if you quit acting like it. She's hot, and I guess intelligent according to you, and she has the record for a woman, hell anyone, holding your attention this long without you losing interest." Damian was about to open his mouth to respond but Jon cut him off once more. "I'm only saying this because I care about you, as your best and only friend. It would do you some good to relax and actually stop working for once. The rest of us can handle a day without you, you gotta trust us."

"How can I trust the man that brought a potential criminal into our security office?"

Jon hesitated and paused to find the right words. "I'm not saying it was ok, but you know he hasn't been the only one to do it. Yes, you were pissed then and it wasn't the security office per se, but I think you're taking this a little more to heart because of whom it entails."

"A criminal!"

"A very attractive woman that has the unfortunate burden of once being labeled as a suspect and then having you get attached in that mindset. Maybe the situation with Tim spooked her, and you can finally try to talk to her as Damian and not as head of security?" Jon looked pleadingly at him as Damian hit the button to call the elevator. 

"You all may think she's innocent, but I don't. Perhaps I am a bit attracted to her, but unlike Drake, I am professional and can contain myself around women."

Jon rolled his eyes and Damian stepped into the elevator. "Ok, well you go actually take the night off and contain yourself at the rooftop party tonight." He winked at him just before the door slid close.

Rooftop party...that's where she'll be. This is why Jon was tolerable enough to be his friend. Damian made his way to his suite a few floors down from where he was headed later that night. He would attend as regular Damian Wayne, but that didn't mean that his head of security side couldn't be 'undercover'. 

If he wanted to catch her, he knew he had to go at it by himself, everyone else had been compromised. Tonight was the night he was sure he'd get lucky. 

[olliedollie1204]

the kids are alright

AKA, Kai will see Elliott and ask “Is anyone going to adopt that?” and not wait for an answer

Edit: now also on AO3!

Characters: Kai, Elliott, Emile Picani, Larry and Dot (mentioned)

Words: 2,354

(A/N: I read both Elliott and Kai as being older teenagers, with Elliott being like 17/18 and Kai being 19/20? That might not be accurate but that’s the vibes for this.)

As soon as Kai pushed his way through the glass door, he started the process of freeing himself from the ridiculous amount of safety gear he had to wear while skateboarding.

Off came the elbow pads, knee pads, and wrist guards, which he dumped unceremoniously in his backpack; then he undid his helmet, the black and purple gradient one that Lauren got him when he told her he was gonna take up skating again. That, he tucked under his arm for safekeeping, grabbing his board with his other hand as he made his way down the hall to Picani’s waiting room.

Kai didn’t know how many patients the quack doctor had; enough to keep his business from shutting down, he guessed, but he’d never even seen another person in the building at any of the sessions he’d been to already.

So the sight of someone actually sitting on the waiting room couch made Kai freeze in his tracks.

The other person— around Kai’s age, maybe a little younger— had their eyes on their phone, and made no outward reaction when Kai appeared in the doorway; but Kai was way too suspicious of everything around him to not pick up on the way the kid’s eyes flicked towards him for less than a second before returning to their phone, or the way their thumb was moving across the screen too fast and haphazard for them to actually be doing anything.

They were nervous, Kai suddenly realized, because he’d shown up, and now the two of them were alone in a tiny waiting room of a therapist’s office.

Ah, fuck. Kai hated knowing people were uncomfortable. His social anxiety wasn’t quite like that, but he’d certainly seen enough of his friends go through it to know that this encounter was ticking a lot of boxes: in tight quarters, with a stranger, in a vulnerable setting, in silence.

Well, Kai never had much of a filter anyway, so he might as well try to relieve some of the tension in the room.

“Sup,” he offered, dropping onto the other end of the couch, leaving the cushion in the middle empty as a buffer space. The kid nodded politely, pulling their backpack up onto their lap and hugging it against their chest. Kai caught a glimpse of a ‘they/them’ pronoun button on their bag.

He felt a release of breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Thank fuck, another one.

“Did the Doc double book his appointments or something?”

Kai pretended not to notice the way the kid jumped slightly before looking at him, hesitant and confused.

“I’m sorry?”

Kai gestured towards the door. “I’m his 11 o’clock. What’re you in for?”

The kid faltered for a second before holding up a crumpled stack of papers in their hand. “I, um, just need to drop off some paperwork.”

“You had to do that in person?” Kai asked. Too late, he realized the words were kind of unnecessarily hostile, but, well, he wasn’t a people person, so he didn’t know what the fuck he should be doing better, okay?

Luckily, the kid didn’t seem too bothered, merely looking down at their lap and picking at their nail polish.

“Uh, he asked me to? I was gonna email them but he said he doesn’t have a computer, so…” They trailed off, apparently not knowing how to finish the sentence.

Kai furrowed his brow. “How does he advertise his shit without a computer? That just seems like a bad business practice.”

They shrugged. “I mean, I guess word of mouth is good enough. Um, my friend told me about him, but I don’t actually know where she heard about him.”

“Same,” Kai replied. “My girlfriend made me come here at first, but she never told me how the fuck she found him. Probably some magic newspaper ad— ‘The person you need is Emile Picani’, or some dumb shit like that.”

The kid huffed a small laugh. “Was that— was that a Nanny McPhee reference?”

“… Huh,” Kai replied after a moment. “Yeah, it was. Didn’t think you’d recognize it.”

Again the kid shrugged, but now there was a small smile on their face. Kai grinned back, leaning against the stiff couch and kicking one leg on the table as he bounced his other leg against the floor.

“I’m Kai,” he said, lazily throwing up a peace sign. The kid blinked in surprise.

“Um, Elliott. Nice to… meet you,” they finished awkwardly.

“Same,” Kai replied, nodding. The room fell silent for a couple beats before he continued, “Still, no computer. I mean, Jesus, get with the times, man!”

“Probably doesn’t have one because he spent all his money on stuffed animals and Funko Pops,” Elliott muttered. The quip came fast, and Kai let out a huff of surprised laughter. Fuck, yes. Now this was something he wanted to talk about.

“Okay, I have to ask you this, because no one else will fucking get it,” he blurted, turning so he was facing Elliott more directly. They looked at him with slight apprehension as Kai leaned closer.

“What is his deal with cartoons?”

A beat, and then a slightly exasperated half-smile formed on Elliott’s face. “I know. It’s like, I assume he went to school for, you know, counseling or whatever, but he only knows how to explain things through kids’ shows? Like, how did you even get your degree? Or your license?”

Kai nodded. “I mean, I guess it makes sense. That hyper ass motherfucker practically is a cartoon character. Like, you know how he literally sings when he walks in the room? Who fucking does that?”

“Yes!” Elliott’s smile finally broke through completely. “Yes, oh my God, yes. And have you noticed the way he’s, like, incapable of sitting still? Like, he practically bounces all over the place, he throws his arms and legs everywhere, and his face—” 

“Oh, way too many facial expressions, for sure,” Kai finished. “Oh! Oh, and sometimes he’ll, like, scrunch his nose up and stick his tongue out when he’s taking notes or whatever? Like—” 

Kai demonstrated, making Elliott snort with laughter. Kai started laughing, too— it wasn’t a particularly funny impression, but something about the dissipating awkwardness in the room made laughter come easier.

“And you can’t talk about any other form of media with him, because he won’t get it!” Elliott continued, their voice brightening throughout the conversation. “Like, anime? Never heard of it.”

“Video games are a bust, too,” Kai added. “Unless it’s, like, ‘Steven Universe: Save the Light’ or some shit.”

Elliott paused before sheepishly holding up a finger. “Actually, I’ll give him that one. My first real session, he, uh, he talked about Steven Universe for an hour, and— I don’t know, it’s not that bad.” They shrugged again, suddenly timid again.

Kai blinked. Backtrack, dumbass, backtrack. “No, yeah, I— I actually think the shit he talks about is… you know, it can be good, or whatever. Helpful.”

Ugh, fuck, that was embarrassing. Even though Kai could admit that Picani’s methods weren’t completely insane, he didn’t wanna share the intimate details of why he was there with someone he just met, even though Elliott seemed like a pretty cool kid.

He was just starting to visualize the letters WWLD in his head— What Would Lauren Do?— but thank fuck, the two of them were saved from any more awkward apologies by Picani’s office door swinging open. Kai slumped even further in his seat, while out of the corner of his eye he saw Elliot go ramrod straight.

A kind looking couple walked out of the office, holding hands and speaking quietly to themselves.

“Alright, Dorry, I’ll see ya next time!” The doctor’s cheerful voice carried into the waiting room as the couple left.

Eliiott darted their eyes to Kai, mouthing, ‘Dorry?’

‘Like the fucking fish?’ Kai mouthed back, making Elliott snort. The noise made Kai struggle to stifle his laughter in the otherwise silent waiting room, and suddenly the two of them were folding in on themselves, hands pressed over their mouths in a weak attempt at keeping quiet.

“Well, hey there, Thing One and Thing Two!”

Kai and Elliott snapped their heads up in unison, looking to where Picani was leaning in the doorway.

“I’m sorry for the wait, but I must say, I’m so happy to see you two smiling for once!” The doctor giggled, smoothing his tie and giving them both a knowing look.

Kai glared at him, opening his mouth to deliver some scathing retort, but he was interrupted by Elliott practically jumping off of the couch.

“Here’s the paperwork you asked me to bring.” They thrust their arm out to Picani, who took the papers and carefully smoothed out their wrinkles.

“Ah, thank you, Elliott! Kai, you mind hanging tight in my office for a second?”

Kai nodded wordlessly, gathering his bag and his skateboard and brusquely moving past the others into the small office. He dropped onto the couch, his bag hitting the ground with a weighty ‘thud’, as he tried not to eavesdrop too much on Picani and Elliott in the hallway. ‘Tried’ being the keyword, since they were about two feet away from the door, and Picani was a loud motherfucker.

“Thanks for bring this in for me, Tinkerbelliott!”

“That barely makes sense,” Elliot’s voice interrupted, and Kai smirked to the empty room. Get his ass, Elliott.

As the conversation continued, Kai let the rise and fall of their voices wash over him. He tried to get into his “whatever” mindset, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the kid in the waiting room.

It was like he and Elliott had some instant fucking connection or anything cheesy like that. They weren’t platonic soulmates, and honestly, it didn’t even seem like they had that much in common. But as Kai sat there, lazily rolling his board back and forth under his feet, he couldn’t help but think about all the crazy shit Picani put him through, and how talking about it with someone who really got it was… kinda fun, or whatever.

“So sorry for the wait, Agni Kai!”

Picani’s chipper voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and suddenly there was the Doc himself, shooting him a friendly smile as he made his way behind his desk.

“I’ve just been busier than a Mighty Bee this morning,” he rambled, sliding Elliott’s paperwork into a file while still managing to talk with his hands. “But I promise, starting this second all of my attention is on you. So!” he finished, folding his hands on the desk and looking at Kai expectantly. “What’s up?”

Kai looked at him for a few seconds before standing, the abrupt movement startling Picani and making him jump back in his rolly chair.

“Kai—?” 

“I’m taking this,” Kai stated, snatching a pen from the cup on his desk before Picani could respond.

“Oh! Um, ok, just be careful because it’s a glitter gel pen—” Picani’s voice got quieter as Kai swung himself out of the office, hoping he could catch Elliott without having to try and run.

Thank fuck, as he turned down the main hallway, he caught a glimpse of a figure dressed mostly in black halfway to the front door.

“Yo, Elliott, hold up!”

They froze for a moment before turning around to face Kai, curiosity and wariness lining their face.

When he got closer, Kai pointed to the folded paper Elliot was holding. “Is that important?”

“Um, no, not really— ah.” They cut themselves off as Kai snatched the paper out of their hand. “Okay.”

Kai didn’t respond as he flipped the paper over, leaning against the wall to scribble something on the back.

“You got Instagram?”

A beat, and then Elliott nodded. Kai finished with a flourish, underlining what he’d written despite it being the only thing on the paper, and passed it back to Elliott.

“Here. Follow me, I’ll follow you back,” he said as Elliott read his messy scrawl, their mouth dropping just slightly.

“Oh!” There was a distinct tone of surprise in their voice, which Kai didn’t comment on. They folded the paper in half and held it tightly in their fist. “Um, thanks, Kai. I’ll— I’ll do that as soon as I get home.”

Kai nodded. There was just a beat of awkward silence before he spun on his heel, walking casually back to Picani’s office.

“Later,” he called over his shoulder, not looking back.

“Um, yeah!” Elliott replied in a voice that clearly wasn’t used to yelling. “Later! Bye!”

Kai heard the front door open and close again by the time he reached Picani’s waiting room. He swung around the corner, feeling uncharacteristically optimistic for his session, but barely stopped himself before he collided with the good doctor himself.

“Woah! Watch out, Speed Racer!” Picani chirped, looking down at Kai. “Thought you were trying to make a run for it.”

Kai rolled his eyes before setting his gaze somewhere over the other man’s shoulder. “I left literally all of my shit in your office, obviously I was coming back.”

“Well, you just left in a real hurry, is all!” Picani replied, reaching up to straighten his tie. His voice went strangely neutral as he continued to ask, “Did you need to talk to Elliott before they left?”

Kai’s eyes flicked back to the doctor’s face, and— ugh, fuck, Picani was looking at him with that annoying sort of half-smile he always got when he thought Kai had reached some stupid ‘breakthrough’.

Kai flushed, folding his arms across his chest. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Picani—” 

“Nothing!” Picani replied with faux-innocence, putting his hands up defensively. “Just nice to see you making a friend, that’s all.”

Kai groaned, rolling his eyes so hard they nearly got stuck in the back of his head.

“Don’t be weird, man,” he grumbled, pushing past Picani into his office. He pretended not to hear the doctor’s amused chuckle as he followed him in, gently shutting the two of them in for what Kai was certain would be yet another absolutely ridiculous (yet unfortunately helpful) therapy session.

[incoherentbabblings]

Take Back the Cake, Burn the Shoes, and Boil the Rice (4/11)

Within two months there have been two murders of Gotham newlyweds moments after the ceremony. The only connecting factor was both brides wore the same designer’s work. Needing to establish who exactly is behind the crimes, Bruce enlists Tim and Stephanie to have the biggest wedding Gotham high society has seen in decades, putting a target on their heads not just for the killer, but Gotham society too. It goes about as well as you’d expect. Ao3 Link Here!

Tim had no idea there was such a market for wedding planners. He imagined most people planned it themselves. Stephanie had made the very valid point that neither of them had time. Apparently, because she maybe still hated herself a little, she chose possibly the most ridiculous looking woman who came at an equally ridiculous price tag.

“Why’d you choose her?” Tim asked, as the two paced back and forth in one of the drawing rooms of Wayne Manor.

Stephanie was picking a hanging nail. “She had stupid glasses.” She muttered. “Her website screamed ostentatious. That’s what we want right?”

“Well yeah but –”

Alfred opened the door for Mrs van Dijk, and Tim couldn’t help but mutter a curse at the sight of her. Stephanie caught Alfred’s face as he shut the door, to which she noted he seemed quite relieved to be rid of the woman.

Bottle eyed didn’t do it justice. Her glasses seemed an inch thick, and they took up half her face. Humongous brown pupils peered through at Tim as Stephanie very quickly made her way over to him, holding onto his shirt and showing off the ring. Mrs van Dijk’s clothes were seemingly made from rags, and various bits draped across the floor. Her nose was tiny, upturned and pointy. Her teeth were too big for her mouth. She grinned maniacally at the sight of the young couple. She herself somehow looked sixty and thirty at the same time.

Stephanie had picked a winner surely.

“Oh, how happy I am to meet you! I thought for sure I was being pranked when you rang me!” She looked and wandered around the room, utterly fascinated. “And at Wayne Manor no less. I am the luckiest person in the world… Do you mind if I just put my bags here?” The four assorted totes and satchels and rucksacks seemed a bit excessive to Tim, but he nodded, not quite sure what to say. She slapped them down with a delighted squeal.

Nails on a chalkboard. Tim smiled, baring his teeth as they clenched together uncomfortably. Stephanie stepped in, being on the ball for once.

“Thank you for agreeing to help us! And on such short notice too.”

“It’s going to be a rush to get everything done in time.” Tim confirmed.

They all sat down, but then Mrs van Dijk decided she was too far away and stood up. She settled in between Tim and Stephanie, both of whom flinched at having a stranger be so close. They flinched again when she took a hand each and tugged them onto her lap, a little pile of happy hands. Happy sweaty hands. Tim shivered up his spine, and Stephanie’s left leg spasmed at the uncomfortableness of it all.

“I have had a think the past two days.” Van Dijk said earnestly. “You said, Stephanie, you wanted the grandest wedding Wayne money could provide.”

“Yup.”

“I am going to work a little unconventionally. A little traditionally. But you two are the most important clients of my career. I will give you the world.”

“…Thanks.” Tim responded lamely.

“In my thoughts, I see the Cathedral.”

Neither Tim nor Steph were religious.

“I see gold and white.”

Neither were colours they wore nor sought out.

“Carnations for flowers.”

Carnations were for funerals. Tim and Stephanie knew this very well.

“I see the reception here, in the gardens.”

The weather was never good enough to guarantee any event outside.

“And your gown…”

There, Stephanie could not cave in. “I want Rebecca Andrews.”

“Oop! Pardon?” By now word had spread that she was a cursed designer.

“I have my heart set on her you see… Ever since I was younger.”

“…But I… I brought books!” She threw their hands off her lap, Tim rubbing his freed palm against his trousers as the woman fumbled through the tote, tugging out three lever arch files.

“Oh wow… you really prepped for this.”

“I told you! I will give you the world.” And then she sat down, tossing one folder to Tim, and one to Stephanie. Slapping her own open, Mrs van Rijk flipped through pages until she found examples to show Stephanie.

“See? Oh, Mr Wayne wouldn’t you die to see her in this?”

Tim struggled not to swear. “Oh boy.” He said instead.

That seemed too many ruffles for one human body.

Stephanie blinked, and agreed. “No no. I’m sorry, but this is the one area I must put my foot down.”

“…Even though…”

Stephanie smiled reassuringly, and confirmed, “Even though.”

Mrs van Rijk stared at the huge taffeta construction and sighed sadly. “One day I will get a bride in one of these… Nevermind. I will arrange an appointment with Ms Andrews. Funny lady that one.” As she put the folders back, Tim shot Stephanie a look which amounted to kettle meet pot.

Otherwise, they went with whatever this lady suggested. The only thing both Tim and Steph genuinely liked the idea of was a lemon cake rather than a fruit cake. They told themselves that because it maybe wasn’t even going to reach the altar, what they wanted didn’t really matter. Details were details. What mattered was ensuring they were a target.

Stephanie proceeded to go on a coffee date with Cassandra, who gave the evils in her characteristic manner to anyone creeping to close, and a trip to the arcade with Damian, who grumbled and pretended to shoot a photographer with one of the guns for a zombie shooting game, until Stephanie called him over with the food she had bought him. Tim uploaded an old photograph of them when they were fifteen to his social media pages. Bruce mysteriously went to visit Crystal’s hospital when she was on shift, ensuring that she was seen chatting the Mr Wayne. The picture that went in the news was not the most flattering of Mrs Brown – her expression was nothing short of mystified and in awe that Gotham’s favourite child was talking to her – but it served the same goal as the other outings.

The family was doing everything they could to prove that Stephanie was not just someone out of the blue who had stepped into the role of fiancée for Tim. She was a Gotham girl through and through, her mother worked an admirable job, she was known by the family and spent time with them independent of Tim…Older photos began to be circulated. Old school photos when they both attended Gotham Heights were circulated, as was the fact that she was a student in her final year of Gotham College who volunteered at the clinic on Park Row, just around the corner from Tim’s social housing redevelopment project.

Don’t think of this girl as an upstart, they were practically begging, she’d been a part of Tim and Cassandra and Damian and Bruce’s lives long before anyone cared. Tim, who actually braved reading comments and replies, noted that, for the most part…well they weren’t flat out insulting her. Or him.

For the most part.

That counted for a lot.

Though some of them…

Thankfully Bruce and Dick over many years had cultivated a stock image of a slightly batshit (hah) bonkers family that only seemed to grow with the years in equally odd members. Off kilter, sure, but overall a good family. Thank goodness for Gotham stereotypes.

Next step in becoming a target – an engagement photo shoot.

Tim was not even aware these were a thing, but found himself standing in a full suit a mere three days later. Images to be posted amongst societies circles and to be sent with rsvp invitations. This had been it’s own conflict. None of their superhero friends has been invited, but indeed to everyone, this was for real. Tim had ignored the Titans for days at this point, unable to explain what was going on. There was no pithy explanation.

He had been given a black tux, a dark red suit, a navy shirt and chinos, and a pot of hair gel to style himself. Stephanie, meanwhile, was upstairs, with a veritable army of beauticians, hairdressers and too many dresses to count.

It was raining, because of course it was. But the photography studio had insisted on going forward in the manor gardens.

“We can make it look real Austen and shit.”

Tim really didn’t understand the man’s reference. Said man was holding a camera with a very large lens that Tim suspected wasn’t necessary for this kind of shoot. He had sunglasses on, despite the weather, so Tim knew he was very cool. The four assistants who had been with Stephanie trotted down the stairs, moving quickly to set up lighting. All four looked a little dissapointed, but whatever reason Tim didn't understand.

"Okay?" He asked.

One got in Tim’s face and began fixing his hair. He instinctively flinched away from a stranger in his personal space, but quickly smiled apologetically and allowed her to resume. His gut churned from enduring the uncomfortable closeness.

"It's fine. We just... she's been hurt quite bad hasn't she?"

Tim flinched completely away. It seemed the look in his eyes was enough to make the lady look to the floor, and find something else to work on. Tim's protectiveness was flaring, and he knew it was making others uncomfortable. But he also doubted it was as uncomfortable as Stephanie was having strangers examine her body like that.

“Am I okay to come down now?” Stephanie’s voice drifted in from the top of the staircase, providing a welcome distraction.

The man (Tim couldn’t for the life of him remember the name) immediately became effusive.

“Of course, princess! Let’s see you. You’re in the red dress, right?”

“…Yeah.”

She poked her head around the corner and stared at Tim. She sighed sharply at how handsome he looked. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “Can I hold onto you walking down? It’s a lot of skirt…”

Tim didn’t care that she was blatantly lying. He hopped up to the top step, holding out his hand for her to take. When she did take, still half hidden behind the wall, Tim felt her trembling. He looked at her inquisitively.

“My scars…” Was all she could say. She was bent over, blonde hair curled to look like Sleeping Beauty’s. The assistants who had done her hair had made the decision to have it all down in order to hide her upper back, shoulders, collar and arms. She was wearing flowers in her hair, and her makeup made her look otherworldly. Tim realised it was all to draw attention upwards, away from her torso.

Tim squeezed her fingers. Stephanie as a rule did not show skin... not since Black Mask.

“You wore that purple dress, remember? The one I got you? That showed more skin.” He tried to remind her, so she could logic her way up to being confident in the beautiful dresses.

She only shook her head, and he could see her eyes growing frenetic with an increasing panic.

“No-one was paying attention, not like this. People are going to see me.”

He stepped closer, creating a bubble around them that made Steph’s breathing quieten, and her back straightened. Saying she was beautiful wasn’t going to work. Some of her scars, little that he had seen, were not beautiful. He wouldn’t lie to himself and say they were. Stephanie was beautiful; the injuries, the torn skin, the white shiny scars, the mangled puckered wounds… there was no beauty in the experiences that created them. No amount of sweet talking would convince her nor the world of it. But that didn’t mean she was lesser for it. Not even close. He stared straight into her eyes, praying he looked reassuring.

“It’s okay.”

She nodded, and gently, encouragingly, he tugged her forward into the viewpoint of the photography team. It was a strapless crimson gown, with a sweetheart neckline and a large wide skirt that made her waist tiny. The photographer hissed. She looked lovely, but some scars shined in the artificial light. It was going to make tidying up the images awkward.

“Oh.” He stated. Stephanie immediately hid behind Tim, feeling humiliated. “Do we want to hide these in post? Or are we drawing...”

Tim glared in an intensely threatening manner, and the man coughed, correcting himself.

“Doesn’t matter. You both look like royalty. Every time I do one of these shoots… but this must be one of the best.”

His team twittered like little birds in agreement. Stephanie struggled not to roll her eyes at the weak save.

Shots were taken of them walking down the stairs, though Stephanie did manage to trip of the final step, crumpling in a heap on the floor. The man had ensured she was okay, then demanded she remain there. Tim was forced to sit behind her, two or three steps up.

“Fix her hair and dress.” The man commanded. Immediately her position was altered, and her hair was pulled to cover certain patches of skin. Her breathing wobbled.

She wasn’t good enough.

A little off put by having so many people fuss over her, Stephanie reached upwards. Tim gave her his hand, and then quickly, unthinkingly, pressed a kiss to the back of her head. He watched as goosebumps trailed up her back, and he cursed himself a little for even attempting to comfort her.

“Oh!” Shouted the man. “Hold that. Her ring looks good.”

There were four outfits and locations in total – the strapless red gown for Tim’s black tux in the main staircase being the first. For the Thomas Wayne’s library Stephanie perched herself on a leather loveseat armrest, sitting awkwardly and slightly off to the side in her insecurity. Tim had his bowtie removed and three buttons undone, to which he promptly redid one. Stephanie was changed into an off the shoulder green dress with sleeves that split open to expose her arms and hit the floor. The gown had such a deep neckline that Tim’s eyes were drawn to a white scar that went up her sternum. She caught him looking and hissed like an angry cat, unsure if he was staring at her chest or the wound. The golden gown, the one that looked like rays of sun, for the shots in the conservatory was beautiful, but again, Tim could see she was growing increasingly uncomfortable with both the attention and exposure. Repeatedly for couple shots she would start to migrate behind Tim, half hidden away until called out and forced forward. Tim found he couldn’t say anything in front of the photography crew to comfort her. He kept some part of himself connected to her, hoping the touch would ground her. Obviously this was not an option for the solo shots.

She seemed much happier with the final dress. A shorter purple dress with feathers all along the hem. It had a high neck and long sleeves. Tim couldn’t help it, he laughed as she brushed through the bird feathers. She shivered in her bare legs though and begged to put on a pair of tights. The man narrowed his eyes, or at least Tim thought he did behind those glasses, but agreed.

“Some posed shots.” He said, staring down into his viewfinder. “Then go frolic outside.”

“Frolic?” Stephanie raised on eyebrow, and Tim mirrored it.

“Outside?”

Tim took off his blazer as he and Stephanie questioned the photographer in between snaps being taken. Steph grabbed a hold of Tim’s shoulder to balance as she zipped up a boot. The rain was coming down as hard as ever.

“Yes. We need some natural shots.”

His assistant opened the double window doors, cold air blasting its way in. Rainwater dripped inside, and Tim shuddered at the fit Alfred would have. The water crept dangerously close to one of the rugs, and even Stephanie made a panicked oomph noise, and she rushed out front into the pouring rain, hoping that the quicker this round was done the sooner these people would pack up and leave and she could return to flat shoes. Her heels were starting to ache to the point of distraction.

Tim rushed out after her, resisting the urge to yell at the frigid water which immediately soaked him to the bone. Stephanie looked back at him, her dress clinging in all the right ways, hair a sodden blanket. She was laughing from the shock of how cold it was.

“I can’t believe you agreed to this?” He yelled over the sound of the rain hitting the paving stones. Stephanie just laughed and held out her arms for him to step into. Her makeup was starting to run, but rather than making her look like a drowned rat, she looked lively and bright. Her face flushed red from the cold, and Tim willingly went straight into her hold.

She brushed his wet hair out of his eyes, grinning at the face she saw underneath. Still so pale, with such dark bruises under his eyes. Still not sleeping well. But he was happy, at least for the moment. She didn’t want her moodiness ruin that for him.

Stephanie couldn’t get that moment of the kiss to her hair out of her mind, nor could Tim stop thinking about the declaration of love and kiss on the lips she had given him last week. They were stumbling in the dark, seeking physical comfort in each other, and both knew how dangerous it was. Simultaneously, and without mentioning it to the other, they resolved to corner the other. Soon.

Until then, when the photographer called for them to kiss, it was Stephanie who cradled Tim’s face and pulled him close. It was the kind of kiss that they made when they were adolescents: enthusiastic, clumsy, but infatuated. Stephanie tried to convince herself that it was just another kiss for the job, like the ones one their dates and engagement dinners, but as always the sharp stab of enjoyment that came with Tim’s smiling kisses made her shiver and doubt. She squished his cheeks and laughed when they broke apart, and when she tried to leave Tim’s hold and playfully pulled her back around her waist, tossing out further into the rain so he could run inside before her.

She collapsed in, ankles a little wobbly, grimacing at the water they had allowed into the room. Tim shut the windows and huffed.

“Perfect.”

Remembering they had been watched, the redness in Stephanie’s skin vanished, and she resumed staring at her feet, shuffling backwards behind Tim.

Hair dripping wet, and conscious that the pair might catch a cold, Tim tried to be genial when he asked if they were done. The man bared his teeth and he flipped through the images. He didn’t look totally satisfied.

“I don’t know… Can we go for some more artsy stuff? You guys got a ballroom, right? You two are such a good pair…I just want some more to play around with.”

Stephanie stumbled in her shoes, growing more tired by the moment. Tim began to shiver. One of the assistants not so subtly nudged the man, letting him now his time was up.

Bruce in one his blessed moments of good timing, had at some point begun watching through the open door to the drawing room, seemed to realise that Tim and Steph had also had enough.

“Thank you, Mr Hare, but I’m going to have to ask you to wrap up. Let my kids dry up.”

Being referred to one of Bruce’s own made Stephanie stare in open shock, whilst Tim looked gratefully at him, giving a small smile.

“Oh.” Said Mr Hare – Tim tried to not feel guilty at not knowing his name for the entire shoot – and finally he took the hint. “No worries. This was a good session! Listen, I’ll send them when their done to van Rijk. She’s a beast, will probably want them tomorrow if I know her.”

Bruce smiled politely and indicated for Alfred to begin showing them out.

Tim’s shivering had grown worse, and Stephanie noticing this, rushed to one of the sofas which had a cream throw resting over the back to cradle Tim within.

“Rub your chest if it’s gets unbearable.” She uttered, “That’s where all the important bits are.”

Tim smiled, teeth chattering. “Minus a spleen.”

“Huh?” She looked at him, confused.

“I… Oh. I never told you?”

She tilted her head, gears turning ever so slowly in her head. “That you don’t have a spleen? Tim! You’ll get sicker easier and worse!”

She managed to kick off her shoes and moved in closer, tugging the throw around them both. With the assistants out of the room, Tim grew somewhat warmer knowing she was being genuinely caring in this moment.

“How long ago?” She asked, shifting so she could keep them both somewhat warm.

“Um…” Tim looked at Bruce helping Alfred escort the team of the estate. “When I first went looking for him. Got stabbed.”

Her breath warmed his neck, and her fingers drifted down to where his scar was. She cooed when he twitched as if her touch hurt him, but to Tim it felt like a bolt of electricity had passed straight down his spine. He told himself it was because of the static from the rain and humidity.

Bruce watched the group begin to pack up, both ensuring they had left with all their equipment but also listening to their conversation, trying to not to smile.

“I think…” He interrupted, and the pair jolted at the reminder that someone else was in sight of them. “You both should shower up. Then a quick word with you both.”

Stephanie was the first to break away.

“Can I use Cass’ room?”

“We have a spare room if you want it. We have loads of spare rooms.” Tim hinted.

Steph didn’t take the hint. “Cass’ is fine.”

Bruce, however, did hear the hint, and in a rare moment of paternal ingenuity, decided to throw a little bomb into the mix.

“When is Stephanie moving into your apartment, Tim?”

Stephanie, who had no idea such an idea was on offer, gulped. Tim, also appeared a little thrown.

“I… I…”

“I’ve never even been to your apartment.”

“Well, there’s your chance.” Bruce said. “Now hurry up, before Alfred sees the state of the floors.”

Bruce’s edict was law, and reluctantly Crystal agreed for Stephanie to move out.

When it came to moving in with Tim, Stephanie was surprised how easy it was. She really didn’t own that much stuff to begin with, and Tim had a lot of spare space.

Tim’s apartment, based in Park Row no less, was large, and took up two floors. He seemed awful proud of it. Steph didn’t miss the piano sat in the corner but chose not to comment.

“One of your projects?”

Tim huffed, thinking she was diminishing his efforts with Park Row. He was lifting her suitcases up the stairs. “Well, the redevelopment is as good as I make it… And I live here… so you know, I stand by it being good.”

“Hmm.” She set one of four boxes on the couch. Hard and square, it didn’t lend itself to resting and relaxing. Tim had probably chosen it for the aesthetics more than anything, and was likely cursing himself that he had offered to sleep on it whilst Stephanie took his own bed. Glaring at the obnoxious chandelier which hung down from the open space of the ceiling of the first floor down to just above their heads on the first, she hummed to herself.

“These aren’t…I…”

Tim waited patiently at the top of the steps for her to finish.

“How did you make sure you haven't just gentrified the area?”

Tim put down her suitcases, practically skipping down the steps to get to her level, a little put off with her question. “You worried I kicked poor people out of Crime Alley?”

Stephanie blushed, and defended herself. “Not intentionally.”

“No. Not intentionally. Not unintentionally either.” He scoffed, but before he could turn way, Stephanie halted him.

“How then?”

Tim couldn’t hear the sincerity in her tone, instead he heard patronising accusations. His temper flared unexpectedly. She still could rile him up like no other. “You care?”

As could he to her, apparently. Her blush turned to a flush of red anger, and her defensiveness became aggressive.

“What kind of question is that? Do I care about your job? The unprivileged? Gotham in general?” She waved her hands. “Nevermind. Not if you’re gonna take everything like an attack.”

With a whirl that smacked Tim in the face with her long ponytail, he flinched back and watched her drag another box in. It was too heavy for one person, and she was going to hurt her back in her stubbornness.

“Steph, let me help.”

“I’m fine.”

“Steph –”

“You don’t always need to be so –”

“You know you can accept help from –”

The pair trailed off, both bent awkwardly over a box, glaring at each other. Stephanie was the first to break, groaning in a tantrum and stomping up the steps. She looked down over the railing to Tim looking up at her.

“You honestly don’t have a spare room?”

“No. The other room is an office and a bathroom. It’s just for a few more weeks… I made space in my closet for you.”

“Thanks. Real generous there, Timbo.”

Her sarcasm was biting, and Tim felt the childish urge to stick his tongue out at her. She vanished from sight though, rolling her clothes through to his bedroom. Kicking the box at his feet, his eyes widened in shock at how heavy was, and he stumbled away.

“What she got in here… boulders?”

Dragging it into the hallway, Tim popped outside to see Crystal driving away, the two remaining boxes left at the foot of the steps to the door. They were lighter than the box of bricks, and once they were inside Tim shut the front door. Stephanie was still upstairs, so was likely unpacking her clothes.

Opening the heavy box in some grim determination to be vindicated in its contents, he was instead met with a box filled with stuffed soft toys.

She still held onto them? At the top of was a somewhat familiar teddy bear. She had held onto it and smacked him with it playfully on occasion. When he had visited her to tell her he was having to leave Gotham… when she was pregnant, when she didn’t know his name or anything about his parents or who was behind that mask… all she had known was this boy had – for some unknown reason – chosen to stay with her, to spend time with her. She had taken a lot of convincing over two years it was because Tim genuinely loved her, and it wasn’t out of some Bat driven duty to be kind to those weaker than you. By the time she believed it herself, she had seen Tim kissing someone (someone who she now knew he didn’t want to be kissed by) and everything had gone down the crapper. Seeing that stuffed bear affected him more than he expected.

Resting under it was the duck he had won her the other week. Its silly face peering out from under the other toys made him laugh despite his tense mood.

He picked up both toys and walked up the stairs. In his room, Steph was piling her shoes into a corner of the closet. Tim set the duck down on a table that rested at the foot of his bed.

“You kept this?” Tim asked, waving the teddy.

Stephanie gasped, clumsily pulling herself off the floor, and reached out to take it. Tim snatched it back.

“Give it.” She cried.

“Did you seriously bring everything? I could have helped you pack. Even the toys.”

She seemed increasingly upset, when Tim was only trying to tease. “I’m serious Tim, give it.”

He didn’t give way, so in her frustration, she shoved him. Hard. No damage was done, but the look of horror on her face at becoming physical like that with him made Tim’s stomach drop more than anything.

Her face turned white and she begged, “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Tim really didn’t know what to do with her constant mood swings, so awkwardly returned her bear to her. She nearly ripped it out of his hands and cradled it reverently.

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have made fun of you. I just thought it was sweet, that you held onto this stuff.”

In her hands, Stephanie looked down at the bear. When she spoke, it was near a whisper.

“My dad bought it for me.”

“He did?”

“Mmm. When he was… when he was trying to be better.” Her look grew angry then. “I don’t know why I keep it.”

Without thinking, she plopped on her bed, staring at nothing. Tim realised he needed to intervene, and quick. He sat next to her and took one of her hands in both of his.

“We need to talk, I think.”

Dropping the bear, her other hand joined the three. Tim tried not to shiver at the warmth. “Me too.”

“Let’s get the rest of your stuff in, yeah? Is it all for upstairs?”

“I have some photo albums. And a couple of things for the kitchen. Figured you didn’t cook much.”

“Not really.”

She pulled their pile of hands into her lap, her look growing softer by the moment.

“Then I’ll cook tonight? First meal in a new place. Be a good wifey and all that.”

Tim tried not to imagine Stephanie with rollers in her hair, red lips and a frilly apron holding an apple pie. He failed. “Can’t comment on the contents of my fridge.”

“That’s okay.” She stood up, wandering down to the yellow duck. She pinched its orange beak. “Tim?”

“Mm?”

“I am genuinely interested in your work. I’m not being accusatory about that.”

“Thank you, Steph.”

She smiled, but it was sad.

With one box filled with stuffed toys, it truly didn’t take long for Tim to help her move the rest of her stuff into his room. Photos proceeded to take up free surface space, and Tim’s bathroom quickly became filled with so many items for the bath that his mind drifted to the idea of Stephanie. In his tub. In his apartment. He burned red for the rest of the afternoon, his brain not allowing him to let go of her soaking in bubbles.

There was one that smelled like cola candy that he liked, but it was at that point he decided he was being creepy, and wandered back downstairs, to find his fiancée’s head rammed in the fridge.

“Alright there?”

“Garlic…red onion… half a pepper…” Her muffled voice was amused. “Butter… cheese… milk.” She shut the door, hands full of everything except the milk. “Pretty standard student fridge contents huh?”

“I’m not a student.”

“Nah, but you have twenty-year-old brain anyway. We’re all messes.” She looked at the ingredients in her arms. “I can do something with this. You good a stirring?”

“I have movement in my wrists.”

She smiled. “Then grab me a knife, cutting board, pot and frying pan?” When he did, she jerked her head over to the sink. “Fill the pot three quarters up and throw a chunk of salt in. When it boils – two mugs of pasta and stir.”

It was a simple quick dish, but she gave Tim enough instructions to make him feel like he somewhat contributed to the food that she made. Sitting with her at the counter, watching her pile cheese higher and higher into her bowl, made him feel content in a manner he didn’t feel often in his home.

When they were finished, Tim stared into his empty bowl gathering the courage to say,

“We should talk.”

Stephanie beat him to it. Tim picked up the dishes, hand shaking a little.

“I’ll wash up.”

She reached out, fingers wrapping around his wrist gently. If he wanted, he could pull away without being violent, but he held still. Steph looked at him, trying to make him understand.

“It can wait a little bit.”

She was right, but Tim couldn’t shake his nerves. He set the bowls down, then sat back on the stool.

Stephanie’s hand shifted, and then suddenly they were interlocking fingers.

“Tim…” She began, and she was unable to look at him as much as he for her. “How much of this is real for you?”

Tim had told Dick he had wanted her to start the conversation, for her to lead the way, but now when it was happening, Tim moved from nervous to frightened.

“What do you mean?”

The look Steph gave Tim from the corner of her eye was indescribable, but the closest Tim got to giving it a name was pity.

“Do you want to be with me?”

“Do you?”

Deflecting like a wimp. Avoiding conflict. Tim tried to convince himself it was because Stephanie had to be the one to tell him. The moment she was decisive, so would he.

Instead she sighed like she didn’t know what to say. They were still holding hands. Tim began to breathe shallowly.

“Please, Steph. It’s fine if you don’t.”

There was his admission. She knew, she’d always known. But somehow, she had found the talent of laying her cards close to her chest, and he hated it.

“It’s not that.”

Not a denial. Not really an admission either.

“What is it?”

“It’s everyone else. Like, I’ve been getting all these messages all the time from people I haven’t spoken to in ages but then Kara keeps messaging me asking what’s going on. Why I didn’t tell her? Why are her and Conner not invited? But I can’t… I can’t lie to our loved ones about you.”

“Because you…don’t love me. And you don’t want to lie to the people we love that you do.”

He felt hollowed out. He felt like he was hurting her. But she had agreed to this. She didn’t have to. He had given her a way out. So what? She was being a martyr?

“No…No Tim.”

And suddenly Tim could breathe again.

“But don’t you get it? Even if I wanted… we are lying to everyone. How can anything good come from a lie? Especially for us. Where has us lying with each other ever done us any good?”

Oh. She thought they were repeating old bad patterns.                                

“I’m not lying to you.” He said, trying to reassure her. Not once since this whole thing had begun.

“And that’s all that matters?”

“It should. We’re the ones in this…relationship…so that’s all that counts.”

She sighed patiently, like she was explaining something to a child. “Tim, we don’t live in a bubble.”

Tim ignored it, and shamelessly began to beg. His patience had run out. It felt like he was pulling wisdom teeth, that’s how closed off she was being.

“Stephanie. Steph, please. You can’t say it’s a lie when I’ve done nothing but be honest with you. You have to tell me the truth.”

“About what?”

“You said you loved me at dinner.”

“I did.”

“Do you?”

“Of course, I do.”

Tim did not feel any lighter with the admission, nor did Steph look happy to say it.

“When this is over, do you want to be with me? For real? Like I do for you?”

Finally, finally, they looked each other in the eye.

“I don’t know.” Her voice was wet, quiet, and strained, like she was on the urge of crying. She didn’t even sound sure of her uncertainty. Maybe Tim was completely delusional, but he sensed that for all her talks of wanting the truth, she didn’t know what to do with it when it was staring her right in the face.

She was still frightened, and Tim knew it was from every piece of negative and positive attention being flung there way. Like Tim, Stephanie just wanted to be left alone. Unlike Tim, she couldn’t cope with the attention. And he didn’t know how to help her.

She then got up from the table, picking up their bowls to do the washing up. She had gotten what she wanted from the conversation. Tim was being earnest, like he always was. Tim still loved her, like he always had. Tim wanted a real relationship with her, like he had always wanted.

And she had only given him mixed signals in return. Self-loathing bubbled in her gut, which only served to fuel her seemingly growing self-esteem issues. Her anger spiked.

And she’d tried so hard to get over her adolescent insecurities too…

Patrol was waiting, after which Stephanie would spend the night with Cass at the manor, and Tim would return to his apartment, staring at the empty space in his large bed.

Neither slept that night.

[pandawritespoorly]

With Time: Chapter 33 - The Sun’s Going Out

Author’s Note: Woo! Saturday again!

A warning that Adrien is not doing so well. He's struggling, and you may feel uncomfortable reading it. I want you all to prioritize your mental health over my story.

What's this? A strong language warning? It's been a while! 'Bullshit'.

Chapter Summary: Adrien is fine.

First | Previous | Next

“Alright Chloe,” Marinette says as she takes a seat across from the blonde, “What did you want to talk about?”

“I’ve been working on… a project. For a while now. Originally, I was going to talk to you about it in, like, November, but Adrikins and Sabrina both mentioned that you weren’t doing so well - ‘cause it was cold.” Chloe snaps her compact shut, putting it in her purse and looking at Marinette.

She clasps her hands together, placing them on the table and leaning forward seriously, “I’m starting a non-profit. For bullying. I want you to help me.”

Marinette is taken aback, this is certainly not what she expected. On reflex, she asks, “Why?”

“I know that I can never undo what I did, all those years, when we were kids, but I want to do something to make up for it,” Chloe looks away for a moment, “I did awful things, even when I was trying to be better,” she looks back at Marinette, “I let things with Lila get as bad as they did. I could have done something. I should have helped you before it got to the point it did. I’m so sorry for that. I could have spared you from… so much. It’s… I’m so sorry, Dupain-Cheng. For everything. So, I figured, there’s no use moping about it! I wanted to do something! So I figured… I can try to help? Help other people, and make something positive from all I did.”

Chloe looks down at the table. Marinette can only guess how badly she feels. The Chloe she knew would have never admitted she was wrong, have never tried to do anything like this.

This. This is... 

Amazing.

Marinette stands, rushing to hug Chloe tightly, “Oh, Chloe, that’s an amazing idea. I love it so much! Thank you! I’m so proud! You’ve become such an amazing person!”

Chloe blushes slightly, but eventually shoves the short girl away (gently), “Ugh, I know. Sit down like a civilized person, why don’t you?”

Marinette can tell from her tone that she’s not saying it in a mean way, just a Chloe way. Marinette smiles at her and sits down, ignoring the stares from the other people in the cafe.

She’s so proud.

“Anyways,” Chloe brings them back on track, “I’ve been working on setting it up for a while now. At first, I wasn’t even sure what I could do, but Sabrina suggested a non-profit, and then… well, yeah, here we are.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I’m not really sure, but this just seemed  like your sort of thing, because you know, you’re so you - one of those people that’s just good. It’s almost sickening how nice you are, honestly.”

“Thanks!”

Chloe glares at her. “See! You took that as a compliment! Ugh! You’re ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! Whatever.” She flips her ponytail for effect, “It’s called Everyday Heroes, and it’s going to be focused on educating people on bullying and helping the victims. You could probably work as a speaker on bullying - if you are comfortable with that, of course - which would fall under the scope of ‘education’ I guess. Or just spread the word. If you can think of anything, I’m open to suggestions.”

Marinette hums, “I could do that. Need any help with fundraisers? I can help there too.”

Chloe brightens. “Yes! That’d be great!”

They talk a little longer on the non-profit, exchanging ideas and planning. After a moment, they pause. Chloe sips on her drink and looks at Marinette.

“So, I heard about Adrien. What Gabriel and Lila did…”

Marinette scowls, “Ugh, that.”

“Right?! The only reason that no one is doing anything is ‘cause he’s some dumb old white rich guy. Sabrina brought it up to her father, who brought it up with his superior, who threatened to fire him for even considering going after Gabriel. I mean, can you say ‘corruption’?” “He’s being completely isolated! Sure he’s around people, but they’re not good people-” Marinette pauses at this. She’d always insisted that the class was still good.

They are, right?

She knows they are, but Lila… Lila has twisted them into something dark.

Something bad.

“...good people for him, anyways. This is- this is-” She clenches her hands into tight fists, feeling her nails bite into her skin, “Ugh!” she growls.

She remembers herself. She can’t get mad. That’s not allowed. Not while Hawkmoth is still a threat.

“Come on Chloe, let’s go back to the bakery.” She stands, placing some money down to cover her drink.

“I guess I can go with you,” Chloe sighs.

Marinette smiles. When they get outside, she wrinkles her nose at the chill. She may not be at risk of hibernating anymore, but that doesn’t mean she has to like the cold.

Waving at Maman and Papa as she leads Chloe through the back, she marvel’s at how much has changed in just one year. Less than a year actually.

There’s the whole… Dupont mess. She doesn’t want to think about that.

Chloe though! Now she can bring her to the bakery and no one bats an eye because she’s not a bully anymore. She’s a friend!

“Okay, so I brought you here because I figured that you could help us out. We’re planning to take down Lila during the music comp-”

“I’m in!” Chloe interrupts immediately.

Marinette’s eyes twinkle in excitement, “I thought so. Give me a minute to get everything out.”

Chloe nods, taking a seat on the chaise.

Marinette buzzes about the room, taking out papers and lists. She takes a large rolled-up paper out from some corner, placing it near the pile she’s made as she goes to grab a few last things.

Returning to the mess, she sorts it seemingly at random, moving some this way or that after a quick glance. When there’s enough space cleared, she unrolls the biggest one, spreading it out across the floor.

It’s a schedule for Concours d'arts musicaux, as well as a map of Collège Françoise Dupont.

Marinette takes a sheet of paper from another pile, unfolding it to reveal a rather lengthy list titled ‘Lila’s Lies’. Some are highlighted.

As she makes a few final rearrangements, Marinette says, “Obviously we aren’t going to debunk everything, because we don’t have that much time, but we’re going to assume that the rest will fall if you give the push.”

Chloe gives her a flat look. “Really? You’re making quite the assumptions on their intelligence here.”

Marinette glares. “They’re smart people, Chloe. It’s not their fault they’ve been manipulated.”

“Smart? Sure, when I think ‘smart’ I think a guy with glasses thinking his eye could have been gouged out with a paper napkin.”

“Ignoring that, they’re smart people.”

“Sure. You tell yourself that Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe retorts.

Marinette ignores her. “Anyways, the current game plan is to get Jagged, Prince Ali, Mrs. Rossi in to debunk her lies there. We’ll also play parts of the recording from when she, uh, saw me at the museum-”

“I want to hear that.”

“Chloe, really, it’s fine,” Marinette tries to reassure her.

Chloe shakes her head. “Nope. I want to hear it.”

Marinette sighs, handing Chloe the phone so she can listen. The blonde looks furious by the end. Marinette cuts in before she can say more, “How about you use your anger constructively and help me finalize the plans for the competition?”

---

“... and after fencing you have a picnic date with your girlfriend. It will last at least four hours. To offset the time lost, you will have extra lessons for the next two weeks. Any further dates will do the same. Ms. Rossi is aware of this and has assured me she will plan accordingly. That is all, enjoy your breakfast, Adrien.”

“Yes, Nathalie,” Adrien says robotically. Turning to his plate he can’t even muster up the energy to be disappointed in the small portions. His old dietician had retired. The new one was trying his best to ‘go by the book’ and be very exact in his portions for someone of Adrien’s size and weight. Nevermind that the old one had noted that he seemed to have a ‘worryingly fast metabolism’ given how many calories he loses, and should be fed accordingly.

Nope. That didn’t matter.

Nothing matters in regards to Adrien Agreste.

He’s just some pretty toy for people to show off.

His plate is only half done, but suddenly he’s not hungry anymore. Finishing early gives him approximately ten minutes of free time, so he goes to his room.

In the past, he’d have used this time to play games or text his friends, but now?

Now he just goes to his bed, staring up at the ceiling and focusing on thinking of nothing at all.

Plagg has other plans.

“Kid, this isn’t healthy.”

“Plagg, everything has been properly planned out so that my physical health and wellbeing will be at their peak. I-”

“Well, firstly, that’s bullshit.”

“Such language is not befitting of the Agreste brand.”

“Well thank me I’m not a part of that. Neither are you. A family shouldn’t be a brand first, family second. Adrien, this isn’t healthy for you mentally or physically. It’s only been like a week of this, and you’re a completely different person. I’m worried about you, kid.”

Adrien sighs. He doesn’t have the energy to argue.

This is just his life now. Plagg should accept that - it takes less energy than to fight it.

“Your friends are trying their best to help you out, but Nathalie and Gabriel are playing interception big time. Felix’s appointments aren’t being prioritized-”

“It’s a waste of time anyways. Father wants me to be the perfect face for the Agreste brand. Perfection requires sacrifices, which I have to be willing to make,” Adrien’s voice cracks as he speaks.

Plagg nuzzles into him, trying to provide comfort as best he can. “You aren’t perfect. It’s just a fact of life. You shouldn’t have to be making these sorts of ‘sacrifices’.”

They lay like that for a while before there’s a knock on the door.

“Adrien. Your extra practice for Concours D'arts Musicaux begins soon. Your bodyguard is waiting for you, it is time to go.”

He can’t muster up the energy to call out his usual response, simply rising to grab his stuff and go. Plagg settles around his neck, hidden by the collar of his shirt.

As Adrien approaches the car, he sees the Gorilla give him a concerned look.

He’s fine.

The drive consists of silence. Adrien is sitting up straight and staring ahead of him blankly.

He’s fine.

They arrive, and he exits the car. He keeps his face passive and maintains perfect posture as he enters the building for practice. Adrien is fifteen minutes early as is expected of him. One must make a good impression for the first whole group practice.

He’s fine.

A soft touch to his arm alerts him that someone wishes to speak with him. Of course, he obediently turns to face them. He hopes he’s able to help, because the last thing he would want is his Father to find out he’d been useless.

He’s fine.

“Adrien?”

He finally registers the owner of the voice and touch. Allegra. She’s standing before him, holding a bag from the Dupain-Cheng Bakery. She’s frowning, but it’s the first time in weeks he’s actually sure he didn’t do anything to cause it.

It’s a relief to not be a disappointment for once.

“How are you?” Her voice is still soft, gentle. It’s far from the monotones of those in the Agreste mansion.

“I’m fine.” It’s a reflex.

“No, honey.” She puts a gentle hand on his arm, a touch he could easily shake away if he wanted, “No you’re not.”

He screws his eyes shut, shaking his head desperately, and hugging her tightly. She returns the gesture, petting his hair and making comforting noises while leading him out of sight.

The last thing he needed was for someone to post a picture of The Adrien Agreste seemingly crying. Father would have his head.

It’s a few minutes before he finally lets go. He looks at the ground, “I’m s-”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” she says immediately. The whole group has gotten quick with that response after being Marinette’s friend.

He remains silent, so she continues, “We figured out pretty quick that even with Felix trying to schedule appointments, they weren’t really making it a priority. He got a call that it had to be ‘postponed due to the prioritization of Adrien’s social life’. As if. How are you really? You look pale, honestly you shouldn’t be here if you’re sick.”

He sighs, “No, I’m just…” he hesitates, looking for the right word, “...tired. Father is really cramming in a lot.”

She looks at him suspiciously, “How are you food wise? That old man had better be feeding you.”

“Yeah, he’s feeding me.”

“But…?”

Adrien wonders if she’d care or not. Should he mention it?

Sure, the new dietician cut back on his food, but he hasn’t had much of an appetite anyways.

“I have a new dietician, so my portions have been reduced, but I haven’t really been hungry anyways,” he mutters.

She frowns, “We figured that you wouldn’t be eating enough. Mari sent food with me for you.” She shoves the bag towards him, “I’m under orders from all of them to make sure you eat at least one whole pastry.”

He smiles for the first time in…

How long had it been?

He ends up eating all the provided pastries, and she takes care of the trash for him, and they walk to the main room together.

---

Adrien has finished his homework. He’s done fencing. He’s reviewed Chinese.

He continues to mentally go over his day, assuring himself that he’s done all he’s supposed to, while intentionally ignoring the four hour (it lasted six by the end) date he’d gone on.

Except now he is.

Six hours with he-

No, not ‘her’. His girlfriend.

Just thinking it makes him feel nauseous. Gross. Filthy. Unclean.

He might actually be sick.

The whole thing was a nightmare. Sitting in a park with her. She was constantly touching him, leaning against him, running her hands through his hair.

He doesn’t want to think about how often she kissed him.

A soft knock at the window pulls him out of his thoughts.

Ladybug.

He hesitates. This-

“Kid, you haven’t been going on patrols. She’s got to be worried. Talk to her.”

Adrien had been avoiding Ladybug, even after the three akumas they’d had, he just… he had to get back to his schedule. There would be huge consequences if he went missing for too long. As for patrols - he just wanted to sleep.

He’s tired of being awake.

Plagg is right though, and he really does miss her.

He lets her in.

“Oh, my sweet prince…” Ladybug caresses his cheek, looking at him worriedly.

Adrien doesn’t say anything, just appreciating her company.

“Come on, let’s go. No patrol tonight, I just think you should get out of here.”

Chat Noir and Ladybug take off, and he’s content to follow her lead. He’s not entirely surprised when she lands on her balcony and releases her transformation.

He follows her inside.

“Do you want to detransform?” It’s a question, not an order. Despite that, he feels his ears droop in shame.

“No, I’m sorry. I just… I don’t want to be Adrien right now.”

She smiles sadly, “That’s purr-fectly fine Kitty.”

He still feels bad, and- hey! “Did you just make a cat pun?” His ears and tail perk up.

She smirks, “Purr-haps.”

He grins, “I love you so much!” He rushes forward and picks her up, spinning her in circles. She giggles.

“Want to watch a movie? Or an anime? I have popcorn and pastries.”

“Yes.”

He sets her down and she carefully leads him up to the loft. A bowl of popcorn, a tray of sweet pastries, and her laptop are already there. She crawls to the end, holding her arms out to him.

Chat flops down next to her. She has him choose a movie, and they settle in.

It’s almost like a-

...a date.

Just like that he’s back at the park. That’s all it takes.

“Adri-love! There you are my sweet!”

Lila rushes up to him, not hesitating to kiss him dramatically.

“Hi,” he manages.

She frowns. “Oh no, what’s wrong? Normally, you’d call me something cuter.”

He can translate - cute nickname or else.

“I-I’m fine, my, uh, peacock.”

She pauses, then nods, accepting the name. She kisses him again, which he guesses is supposed to be a reward.

He feels sick.

Her hand grabs his, and she leads him towards the blanket she has set up in a secluded corner of the park. Normally, he’d be grateful that the usual paparazzi isn’t around, but he really wishes that someone - anyone - would be here.

He doesn’t want to be alone with her.

He doesn’t want to be with her, period.

“Chat? What’s wrong? You’re crying.”

Marinette.

He’s with Marinette.

He’s safe.

She’s already paused the movie and set everything aside. She brushes his hair aside, studying him.

“N-nothing,” he whispers.

“It’s not nothing if it’s bothering you - your feelings matter. A very smart cat-boy told me that once.”

He wishes she’d hug him.

He’s relieved she doesn’t.

“I j-just, I had- I- a d-d-date tod-d-day…” he stutters. More tears threaten to fall, but he’s supposed to be perfect.

He hears a sharp intake of breath.

“Do you want a hug? Is touch okay?” She’s well aware of how Lila treats him, and doesn’t want to do anything he’s uncomfortable with.

You know, the way you treat people you care about.

Chat Noir hesitates. His day has been filled with nothing but touch so cold it burned, or the poisonous leaching from her.

Well, not quite only that.

He’d hugged Allegra. That had been nice. A warm hug, not burning, not freezing. Just… caring.

It’s only when he nods that she finally reaches out to him. Burrowing his face in her stomach to hide the tears, he finally lets himself cry softly.

Marinette doesn’t comment on the tears, or the quiet hiccuping of his sobs. She just pets his hair comfortingly.

“It’ll be alright, love. You’re okay, you’re safe. You are absolutely amazing. You’re my favorite person in the whole world - my kitty. Everything will be okay. I promise,” she murmurs. She continues to whisper quietly to him for sometime, eventually just humming a soft song.

It’s the calmest he’s felt all day.

A low purr stutters out of him, and he can tell she’s smiling, even if he can’t see her. He knows she wouldn’t tease him for crying in front of her, but her shirt smells like her, so he doesn't move.

He’s missed her so much.

---

Author’s Note: That child. I feel so bad. For those of you worrying, the competition is soon.

Wondering why Adrien called her a peacock? Well, I was looking for words that meant 'showy/conceited' and that was there. Not to mention one of the villains of Paris is a peacock.

So Chloe, huh? I've been planning this for a while. Like Chloe said, that meeting was originally planned for November.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave any thoughts, theories, constructive criticism, or anything really in my ask box, in replies or through reblogs. I love seeing what you think!

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[plethoraofocs]

so the origins of my first star trek ocs

so, i watched aos first. and i loved it because it was my introduction to star trek and the characters and i recently realised it’s v problematic and stuff so i watched tos. and this is a super long and needlessly complex explanation of how my first three star trek ocs (dottie, clarke, and taylor) came to be! more on them as individuals to come :) (i did give the broad strokes of their backstories in here so it’s a long post. i’ll put the basic parts in bold so you can skip the boring bits that i just rambled in

my first character, i made for the aos timeline, but shifted her over to the tos timeline without much hassle. 

her name is dorothy (dottie) jane negga, and she was born on the lunar colony to her human parents, as their third child born on the moon (one brother, one sister). they moved back to earth (specifically the greek countryside, which i need to do more research on, sorry) where they started an olive farm (neither of her parents come from greece nor do they have a background in farming, but her oldest brother took a horticultural course on the colony so he gets it up off the ground). she has a supportive and wholesome background (which was difficult for me to write because there was so much opportunity to give her a Tragic Backstory but i need to stop doing that so much lmao), two younger siblings (another sister, and a non-binary sibling). of the five siblings, she is the only child who didn’t want to work full-time on the farm, and the family helped put her through starfleet academy, where she took the command route with various piloting qualifications before being assigned to the enterprise as ‘ensign dorothy negga’ due to her exceptional academic success as well as her fantastic interpersonal skills. 

next up was my second star trek oc, someone i had a vague impression of while watching aos but fleshed out and named while watching tos. her name is s’on ahkhu clarke (i don’t know how vulcan names work i’m so sorry), and she is half-vulcan, half-romulan. in my tos timeline, her father (a weaver of cloth on vulcan) was tricked into thinking her mother (a notorious romulan captain attempting to infiltrate the vulcan high council) was an ambitious young vulcan with no social standing trying to work her way up. he fell in love, she went with it. they had a child together, her mother using it to further secure herself in vulcan society, but she was found out shortly afterwards and escaped back to romulus. clarke’s father raised her alone until she was eight years old, when her mother began correspondence with the vulcan high council over custody of the child. eventually, her father was forced to let her travel to romulan space every other year for a year to stay with her mother. her mother was, by then, captain of a mixed-species, all female, space equivalent of a pirate ship. while she found the practices of stealing, torturing, and murdering not only illogical, but deplorable, her mother told her that if she did not assist in running the ship, she would not permit her to return to vulcan. eventually, she joined starfleet academy during one of her years where she was supposedly ‘on vulcan’, and she managed to partially cut ties with her parents. she was just shy of being legally an adult on vulcan when she arrived at the academy, and was put in accommodation with the equally young cadet dorothy negga. the two became oddly co-dependant despite their wildly different personalities, and their symbiotic study relationship assisted them both in getting grades good enough to be assigned to the enterprise upon their graduation. clarke is a redshirt, but is exceptionally skilled with various types of defensive and offensive attacks from her time spent with her mother, so don’t worry, she’s safe. also : no-one is sure whether or not they were doing the do on the regular in the academy or not, and they won’t comment on the discourse.    

last, and definitely not least (lowkey my favourite of the og 3) we have taylor jones. taylor is... pretty weird, im not gonna lie. so i came up with her in pretty much the same way as i did clarke, a vague idea during aos that solidified during tos, she just took longer to nail down. the enterprise is in full swing by the time she gets introduced during a typical ‘away mission gone wrong’ type situation. she’s quite animal-like, she can’t speak, she’s afraid of everyone (except clarke and spock because telepathy and shit), she is telepathic and empathetic, but doesn’t seem to understand language. she’s in bad nick, and she’s the only survivor of a life-support systems failure of a starfleet-scientist-gone-off-the-rails’s illegal experimentation subterranean lab on a class-m planet. turns out he’d been deliberately inter-breeding species (humans, vulcans, orions, romulans, betazoids, ect) in order to create species perfectly designed to suit various jobs he needed doing to sustain himself on the planet. taylor was designed as basically a poorly treated PA, engineered for and trained to anticipate and fulfil his needs through a combination of telepathy, empathy, and a scarily fast learning and adaptation ability. with the help of clarke, they manage to get her aboard the ship and into medbay, where she (for some reason) practically imprints on dr.mccoy. dr.mccoy nurses her back to health (she won’t let any of the other medical staff near her) and begins to teach her how to communicate verbally, while clarke refuses to leave her side as she takes her time to teach taylor how to control her telepathy and how to refine telepathic communications. when they found her, she didn’t have a name, so they assigned her the name ‘taylor jones’. as well as this, leonard and clarke have to try and untrain her from her need to assist everyone on every little thing. she went missing for the first week she wasn’t locked in medbay as she raced around the ship frantically trying to meet everyone’s smallest whims, only being recovered when kirk was feeling mildly thirsty and she showed up on the bridge with a glass and a pitcher full of water (she got the hang of replicators and other technologies pretty fast, it was what she was genetically predisposed to do, after all). she proves to be quite useful on away missions, as she develops an interest in science (much to mccoy’s disgust, he’d enjoyed teaching her about anatomy and first aid, and is loathe to share her with spock), and kirk appoints her to the role of ‘acting ensign’.    

now this is where my inexcusable surplus of star trek ocs kicks in.

i realised that it’d be pretty dope to make my own starship crew, like, a whole ass crew. but i dont know enough about star trek too avoid continuity errors and shit. so i decided to start my own star trek “series” set approximately fifty years after whatever star trek series is the furthest in the future (so, like, picard, right? idk the timelines im a Bad Fan). the basics for these three are the same, except they start out on another enterprise namesake (enterprise-j) as the flagship of starfleet, where the senior officers (i’ve yet to flesh them out fully) are NOT (obviously) the og bridge crew. eventually, taylor decides to travel to earth to get her qualifications from the academy while the other two girls finish out their ‘explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilisations’ mission. taylor graduates the academy just as that mission ends, and is assigned to a research vessel that will be doing more in-depth research on planets/phenomena encountered by the enterprise-j as ensign jones, under captain dorothy (she insists on being called dottie) negga. clarke gets the position of cheif of security. there are many more charcters on board this ship. i still have more i need to make because i want to make an oc for as many of the people needed onboard as possible. 

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Day One - Hidden Connections

AN: You guys!!! Spideychelle week is finally here!! Ahhhh I’m so excited to see what everyone else as written and to share my stuff! Here is my contribution to day one! It’s a little short and quick, and there’s a fair amount of non-romantic stuff in it, but I just thought this idea was really funny and had to write it down! A huge thank you to @spideychelleweek for putting this together! 

Prompt: Secret Relationship AU/College AU

Pls enjoy some 2.4k of humor, fluff, and a dash of angst.

.

.

“To whom it may concern,”

“Dear Sir or Madam,”

“Dear Mr. Bugle,”

“Hello,

I hope your day is going well.

My name is Peter Parker, and I happened to film the altercation between the criminal known as Rhino and the heroes Luke Cage and Spider-Man on the intersection of 42nd Street and 11th Avenue. I have some screencaps of it attached, if you are interested in the video for a blog post, let me know. I am willing to sell said footage for a discounted quick-sale price.

Sincerely,

Yours Truly,

Love,

Thanks,

Peter Parker

--

Releasing a puff of air through his lips, Peter hits send.

The clickable ad he’d seen while scrolling through Facebook said: SEND VIDEOS OF SPIDER-MAN. $1 PER SECOND*. It was only after he’d clicked did he notice the fine print: Spider-Man must be within the frame for the whole second, otherwise the dollar is void.

But that doesn’t matter. Peter has a full five minutes that Dronie had so graciously recorded for him of Luke Cage and him kicking Rhino’s ass.

And he really needs the money.

MJ’s birthday is four days away, a day which also coincides with his rent being due, so in other words: he’s essentially broke. While he does have money in his bank account, he only has enough for one of those things, not both, and he can’t really afford to be evicted at this point. He knows MJ won’t leave him if he doesn’t get her anything…

But she at least deserves something nice.

This video should net him roughly $300; he can take her out to a nice dinner, maybe buy her something actually decent for a change. Not another scarf.

And who knows? She might not even want to go out to a fancy restaurant, seeing as she’s turned down every offer he’s given to take her out in the six months they’ve been dating. Every date night, it’s either been take-out, a quick slice, or some kind of fast food. Not that he’s complaining about hanging out with his girlfriend; every minute spent with her was more than enough. And he’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t a little easier on the wallet.

But there was still that seed of doubt. Why did she never want to leave Queens? Why was it always such a rush to get back home? Why hadn’t she introduced him to her parents? The intrusive, relentless thought that her being embarrassed of him might have been a factor whispered darkly in the back of his mind. He knows he can be immature at times, both with his sense of humor and overall behavior, so, albeit shamefully, he could understand where she was coming from.

Maybe a nice present accompanied by a fancy dinner could help to prove that he can act like a grown-up.

Maybe.

--

The next morning, while happily munching on a bowl of Hulk O’s, he’s genuinely surprised to see a reply in his notification bar from none other than J. Jonah Jameson himself.

“I want to see that video. Will talk about your payment after I have it analyzed by my team.

Your appointment is today at 9am. Don't be late.

J.J. Jameson

Editor for the Daily Bugle Heralding Your Daily News │Tel [212] 555-7109│Fax [877] 555-0971

Sent from my iPhone.”

Peter only allows himself a moment to be put off by the the informality of Jameson’s response, brows crinkled as he turns to check the time.

8:30 AM.

He drops his spoon into the bowl, milk and soggy cereal splashing.

Well, shit.

He stuffs whatever clothes he can find into a backpack before roughly yanking his suit on; he flings himself out of his fifth story window, cereal bowl abandoned on the kitchen counter. Phone in hand, following along on Google Maps, he wonders how super heroes were able to find their way around big cities before GPS.

The next thirty minutes fly by in a blur, and Peter honestly doesn’t know how he’s able to put enough brain cells together to find a place to change into his civilian “interview” clothes. It’s a wonder he made it there in one piece.

The lobby doesn’t have any kind of directory, or any indication of where J. Jonah Jameson is supposed to be. In fact, Peter isn’t even sure where he’s supposed to meet the guy, unable to recall if there’d been anything like that in the email.

He gingerly approaches the front desk, ducking his head down slightly as he offers a smile to the receptionist. “Uhm, hello! I’m here to see Mr. Jameson?”

The woman gives him the the quick once over, visibly unimpressed. “You got a delivery, kid?”

“Uh, n-no.” Peter shifts awkwardly, smile fading. “He, uh, he sent me an email. To meet him at nine? Today? Right… Right now?”

“Hold on,” she says, her voice monotone, turning to the phone on the desk and dialing a four digit number with freshly manicured nails.

Peter starts to say, “Thanks,” but is cut off by the woman holding a finger up.

“Hey Ted, I’ve got a kid down here. Says he’s supposed to meet with Jameson. Do you know anything about it?”

She listens for a moment, nodding. “Okay, thanks.”

Click.

“Okay, kid, go over to that elevator. 17th floor. Someone will meet you.”

Peter smiles again, throwing a quick, but polite, “Thank you,” over his shoulder as he moves.

He’s met by who he assumes to be Ted, a slight middle-aged man with tired eyes. “Peter Parker?” He asks.

Peter nods.

“Alright, follow me.”

Peter isn’t taken directly to the office at first, only being seated in the waiting area just outside.

For thirty minutes.

9 AM, he said. Don’t be late, he said.

The door to the office is ajar, the sound of Jameson yelling at and berating some poor unfortunate soul over the phone almost as loud as the clacking of Ted’s typing on his keyboard.

“I don’t care what that weasel said, I want it done right this time! And if you had done what I’d told you to, we wouldn’t be having this conversation!” There’s a pause as Jameson presumably listens to the person on the other line begging for mercy. “Fine. Go with the lilac. It’ll clash with your comforter, you’ll see. Don’t come crying to me when you have to buy a whole new bed set.”

Another beat of just Ted’s typing passes.

“Okay. Love you, Mom. Buh-bye.” Jameson hangs up, before yelling out the door. “HOFFMAN!”

“Yes, sir?” Ted answers quickly.

“MY 9:00 IS LATE. IT’S 9:30!”

“No, sir, he’s here sir. He’s been here since 9.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME? I COULD’VE HAVE ENDED THIS CONVERSATION SOONER. MAKE A NOTE OF THAT, HOFFMAN.”

“Yes, sir. Will do, sir.”

“NEXT TIME, INTERRUPT MY PHONE CALL. STICK YOUR HEAD IN HERE. GIVE ME A SIGNAL.” He sighs. “Okay. Send him in.”

Ted looks over. “You can go on in. Good luck.”

Peter falters for a moment, wondering if he’s really willing to go through with this.

No. He is. MJ was more than worth it.

He says a quick, “Thank you,” before walking in to the lion’s den.

Jameson sits at his desk, looking up briefly, chewing on an unlit cigar. “Well, quit your dawdling, get in here.”

Peter picks up the pace.

The man glares at him for an uncomfortable few moments, sizing him up, before extending his hand. “You got the video?” He asks, skipping introductions entirely.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” Peter swallows, handing him the drive.

Jameson hums. “I was expecting someone… More… professional.”

It’s then that Peter realizes he’d left his apartment without even combing his hair or brushing his teeth. He hadn’t even bothered put on deodorant or to change out of his The Mighty Thorgi t-shirt. He’s wearing a pair of the day before yesterday’s and yesterday’s jeans, and to make matters worse, he’s wearing two different shoes; one grey converse and one blue.

“You homeless or something? Because there’s a soup kitchen around here.” Jameson spends the next few moments trying to plug in the USB to his computer, flipping it over and over. “Damn thing. HOFFMAN!”

Ted practically sprints in. “Yes, sir?”

Peter tries to speak. “I can do it if you—”

“—Don’t patronize me, kid,” Jameson snaps. “Hoffman. Plug this in.”

Peter watches in silence as Jameson’s expression never changes as the video plays out on his computer. Peter knows what’s on the video, he knows it by heart, in fact. He fought in it. When the video ends, Jameson leans back, his blank expression now seems thoughtful.

“I’m gonna give it to you straight kid,” He says. “It’s a good video. Now I can send this down to my lab nerds. They can calculate the exact amount of time that Spider-Man’s in a full frame. I’m guessing it’s gonna be around $120 to $150. But, that’s if we give you credit, of course. If you wanna sign the rights of this video over to us, we’re looking at, say, $350 upfront. You won’t be credited, though.”

To Peter, that actually sounds pretty good; he gets a good amount of money, more than he thought, and his name won’t be tied to his alter-ego. It’s a win-win. “Oh, yeah! That sounds great!”

Jameson’s smile is shark-like. “Great. HOFFMAN! GET ME CONTRACT A27!”

“Do you mean A63, sir?” Ted asks from the door, contract already in hand, placing it on the desk.

“Yes, yes of course. A63.” Jameson shakes his head. “Can’t get decent help around here,” he mutters.

Peter signs where Ted indicates. Jameson signs the last page and hands back the contract.

“I’ll be back with your copy,” Hoffman says as he exits the room.

Jameson then opens his drawer, retrieving a thick check book and grabbing a pen. “Parker Peterson, right?”

“No, no. Just… Peter… Parker.”

As Jameson writes the check, Peter takes the time to take in the office around him, his eyes drawn immediately to the portrait on the desk. His stomach drops as he realizes who it is.

No doubt about it.

That’s a picture of his girlfriend.

Why is there a picture of MJ… on Jameson’s desk?

“Pretty, isn’t she?”

Jameson’s voice startles Peter, and he looks over, the older man glaring right into him. “Huh?” Peter asks.

“She’s pretty, right? It’s okay. You can say she’s pretty. Beautiful even.”

Peter nods, voice soft. “Yeah. Really beautiful.” And he means it, more than anything, nervous as he is; MJ is the most beautiful person he’s ever known.

With the flick of his wrist, Jameson deliberately flips the portrait away from Peter.

In the amount of time Peter’s been in the office, Jameson has had two volumes: Loud and VERY LOUD. There seems to be a third setting, however. In a hushed, threatening tone, Jameson seethes. “Listen here, kid. I don’t need no smelly, grubby, unemployed jackass drooling all over my daughter.”

Wait, what?!

Fuck.

“I don’t know what thoughts were going through your sick little mind, but that’s my little girl, and I will be damned if she fuels your pervy little spank bank! Do I make myself clear?”

Oh, if only he knew...

Even though Peter could easily take down the older man, he still finds himself shrinking back slightly.

He nods profusely. “Yes, sir, of course sir.”

“Good.” Jameson roughly shoves the check at Peter. “Now get the hell out of my office.”

Peter doesn’t need to be told twice as he dashes through the door, nearly running past Hoffman who expertly passes him the contract copy.

“Have a nice day!” Hoffman calls as Peter disappears down the hallway.

--

Omw, the text read from MJ.

Luckily, Peter had already planned for arrival; the apartment’s clean, the floors vacuumed, Febreez has been sprayed. Conditions were perfect. All he needed to do now was sit and wait, mindlessly tapping his fingers against his thigh, the events from earlier replaying in his head on some kind of torturous loop.

The sound of the key turning the lock fifteen minutes later had his pulse quickening. She was here. “I brought Chinese!” She called as she set the bags down on the dining room table.

Peter cuts right to the chase, barely lasting a second. “So. I met your dad today.”

MJ nearly drops the lo mein, her eyes blown wide. “Oh my God.”

Peter shrugs.

“I am so. So. Sorry.”

He tilts his head a fraction, brows wrinkling in confusion. “Why?”

“I don’t know how he find out,” She says, almost to herself. “I tried to keep this— us— hidden from him. He chases away any guy who comes close to me; friend, colleague… One time a teacher said I was a remarkable student and he— It doesn’t matter. I’ve tried explaining this hetero-normative, misogynistic bullshit to him, but it just goes right over his head. He’s always had this… toxic paternity complex. Like, I know that he loves me, I guess, but that’s no excuse.” She folds her arms across her chest, glancing away, her eyes welling in frustration. “And I just didn’t want him to scare you away.”

Peter puts his hands on her arms. “Woahwoahwoahwoah. Hey. It’s okay.” She looks up at him. “He doesn’t know about us. I just went to the Bugle today to sell a video of Spider-Man… and I saw your picture on his desk.”

Relief washes over her, and she puts a hand on her chest. “Oh, thank God.”

“Nothing to worry about.” Peter grins, before growing confused again, expression crinkling. “I thought your last name was Jones?”

“It is.”

“Then…?”

“So’s my Mom’s,” she elaborates. “They just never got married. Or stayed together, really.”

“Ah, gotcha,” Peter nods.

A comfortable silence fills the room, the food on the table surely getting colder by the minute. But MJ finds that her curiosity is growing too strong. She has to know.

“What did he say?”

Peter snorts, face scrunching as he scratches the back of his neck. “A lot. He totally freaked out when I said you were pretty.”

“He yelled at you for saying I was pretty?”

“Well… It wasn’t really yelling. Just angry whispering. And...” Peter turns bashful. “I said you were beautiful.”

A small smile cracks MJ’s expression, and she looks back down at their now intertwined hands. “Gross.”

“I know.” He cups her cheek, thumb caressing the soft skin there as he stares deeply into her eyes. He leans in, placing a loving, lingering kiss against her lips. As he pulls away, they both sigh. “Just so you know…” He starts, voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes gaze adoringly into his; she’s not even trying to hide how mushy she feels at this moment.

“You’re always the star of my spank bank.”

“Wait, What?”

[marieschunne]

SGE AU: Chapter One

Author’s Note

This story is based on the fiction world created by the very talented Soman Chainani, an alternative universe/fan fiction written by a reader and is not at all affiliated with the original series. This story will not include the series’s main characters (notably Agatha, Sophie, or Tedros) and is focused solely on telling the story of a fictional main character that I made.

Note that I have made changes to some parts/story concepts, as well as including darker themes to better suit on describing the tale of the Evil Queen’s daughter.

Summary

Maeve of Avalon is the princess of the most famous evil kingdom in all the woods. Growing up, she has been groomed by the Evil Queen to become her successor, to continue the legacy of evil.

But it was soon proved to be in vain when the invitation for the School for Good came instead. Her fate was not at all as as she thought; for Maeve found herself trapped in the worst of nightmares and the thin line between good and evil, forcing her to choose between her wicked destiny… or accepting her mother’s wrath.

The room tilted under me as my head spun with disbelief, my fingers clutching the Flowerground ticket—the pressure of my grip on the shining, glossy surface creating a crease on the edges. My name gleamed under the casted dim light from the chandelier above, dripping of oil and cobwebs in which the spiders have long since crawled away to avoid the wrath of my broom. There was no mistaking it, I thought, as my eyes widened and once again ran over the glittering words: Princess Maeve of Avalon; 1 Passage Ticket; the School for Good.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I placed the ticket on the edge of the windowsill where I’d found it earlier. My shoulders suddenly felt heavy… too heavy, as though invisible boulders have been dropped against it. I fell to the ground, feeling the rough surface of the carpet tucked between me and the cold stone floor. Pressing my hand against the bridge of my nose, I struggled to keep the emotions from rising, though it was clear a raging thought appeared in my mind, in bold black letters atop the small words screaming in my head: Mother is going to kill me.

I shouldn’t have opened the windows this morning, though I always do it every day. Even if the letter hadn’t fallen straight to the windowsill for me to find, it would have somehow ended up in my hands anyway, although I doubt it wouldn’t cause a sort of chaos in the castle, not to mention my mother’s bubbling wrath. Ever since I turned fourteen and the date of acceptance came near, Mother would not stop talking about the School for Evil, where my place as a student must have been guaranteed already after the success of Mother’s story. She was the Evil Queen in Snow White’s fairytale who didn’t even bother with burying her stepdaughter or her foolish prince; instead, she had them both cremated and frozen in the dungeon so that whenever she brews a potion of mischief, she could do so while staring at their dead souls.

For years I have been training for this moment—hours spent in the dungeon following Mother’s potion and spell books, creating explosives and capturing doves, putting them in a cage just for the fun of it. When I was seven, I remembered catching a mouse hiding in a small corner near the throne room before presenting it to Mother, always eager to earn her approval. That was when she told me to kill it.

I cried then, refusing blatantly. In return, Mother lashed my palms and killed the poor animal right in front of me. A pitiful soul is unbecoming of a villain. Since then, I never cried; nor did I blink when I saw other creatures getting murdered before me.

What would she do when she finds out about my ticket? Lash me again? Torture me in her dungeon? Kill me before another villain could and cremate me beside my stepsister?

Though ashamed, I don’t want to die yet. Mother used to tell me that to die is a weakness—of course, except for the years catching up on you—and to live is to win in the universe’s game. If she ever discovered the existence of this wretched Flowerground ticket, if she ever found out that her blood daughter is a student of Good—

My hands shot out to the metal ball at the end of the bed, one I used for practice torture, before flinging it at the gilded mirror. The echo of glass shattering pierced my ears, but I could barely hear it over the sound of my pumping heart banging against my eardrums, adrenaline coursing through my blood. If there was anyone I fear most in this world it would be Mother, and should she ever find out that a stymph bird never came to whisk me away to that school, I might as well be doomed.

Suddenly, a hard knock came from the door, snapping me out of my dark thoughts and back into reality. Quickly, I grabbed for the ticket and stuffed it inside my drawer. I barely had time to push the thing shut before the door opens, revealing an ugly goblin that is the castle’s Chief Steward standing in the doorway, her rock grey skin murkier than usual. She sneered at me with her crusted lips, her eyes a muddled green, “the Queen is awaiting your presence at the gates.”

Hiding my shaking fingers, I forced my expression to remain calm. “What for? Is she going somewhere?” I truthfully doubt my ability to remain neutral and not give away the yawning chaos of fear inside me if I were to face her at this time… but do I have a choice?

“It is the weekly trial, girl,” the goblin said, narrowing her eyes as though she could smell my skepticism.

“Right,” I said, straightening the creases of my black sheer skirt. “And it is Your Highness to you, Gill. Or simply princess should suffice.”

Ignoring her dark expression after being scolded, I rushed out of the door without another glance, blood still roaring in my ears.

✧ ༄ ♥ ༄ ✧

“At last!” Mother announced, tapping her long, slender fingers against the carriage door, her red nails the color of her enemy’s blood. Her lips were turned upside down in a frown—an expression between upset and irritated as she sighed, “where have you been, Maeve? The people are anxious for this trial! They demand justice!”

They always do. Under Mother’s rule, the people have grown to be either cruel or cowardice, with no one daring to lift a finger for rebellion. How can they, when Mother was a product of a successful Evil story, read by every single child in the Reader world? Besides, Mother would of crush them into pieces in a blink of an eye.

“I lost track of time,” I mumbled, carefully tiptoeing the apology at the edge of my tongue. Was this why the School Master appointed me as a Good student, instead of Evil? Because he knew that somewhere deep inside, a small part of me cared enough to say sorry?

“Villains don’t just forget about time!” She scolded sharply. “If I were a tad bit late in killing Snow White, she would have been a queen in my stead!”

“Yes, Mother,” I said, forcing my voice to be firm.

She climbed into the carriage first and I followed, feeling the dark velvet of the chair cold as any stone under my skin, keeping the whole aura always in gloom and doom, just as Mother liked. If I were her, I would have added something red, or perhaps a lighter color…

I cringed in disgust. Pink is a color for good princesses. It is a color that should never enter my eyesight.

Not letting my thoughts run any deeper, Mother quickly engaged me in a conversation that always included bits of advice on torture, death, and more misery. Her lips widened to form her trademark storybook sneer, her dark brows arched elegantly. “Only a day more until you must leave for the School, Maeve. Now, remember to make sure that your windows are always open to easier access for the stymph birds. No nonsense of pretending to be asleep in bed; absolutely ridiculous! I was more awake than I had ever been when they took me.”

“What were you doing when they took you?” I wondered, the invisible weight of the Flowerground ticket still pressing against my palm.

“I was carving open my old Gran’s heart—I didn’t need her to pester me while I was at school,” she told me, her eyes far away as her face contorted with satisfaction. My stomach dropped. If Mother was cruel enough to kill her own blood, then what was there to stop her from killing me?

It felt much like pushing myself off a cliff when I dared myself to ask, “Mother, what do you think of the School for Good? What—What if, in some extraordinary case, one of our people was taken to Good?”

She frowned, taking her time to think about it. Probably imagining all sorts of torture for this imaginary Good person—who also happens to be real, and that person is me. “I wouldn’t be able to reach the School for Good to kill that child myself… there are violations set by the School Master. But the family… oh, yes. The family should suffer enough that the child would be too afraid to ever set foot upon this kingdom again.”

I pursed my lips. Now I’ve heard enough. After acknowledging her reply with a curt nod, I inclined my head to look out the window, at the sight of our kingdom. Like the castle, the richer part of the kingdom is dark, built from the smooth ground with precious obsidian and silver. The trial has always been held at the Square, in the middle of the village. Soon, our carriage rumbled down the jagged streets over dirty pebbles down the less fortunate neighborhood. Here, the houses are in ruins, some of the stones crumbling down over roofs and causing a leak to trickle all over the already damp curtains. Iron buckets were placed on the doors after being emptied from the rain that poured heavy last night. I’ve noticed that some of them had enough gall to try and plant flowers, only to have it wither and die on the small boxes placed on their broken, dirty windowsills.

“Such a hurtful sight to my eyes,” muttered Mother, tone tainted with disgust. Her eyes ran critically over the neighborhood that we passed by every week, though I know beforehand that she thought it unnecessary to mend the slum. They must work their way for money; that’s the only way they’ll repair their hideous homes.

Finally, the carriage rumbled to a stop and the door was opened by our coachman: another goblin, this one grim looking. He bowed at us as we descended the small flight of stairs to the Square, where a crowd has already gathered to witness the trial. Every villager must be present for the trial in respect for the Queen and to see by their own eyes just how cruel the punishment if they dared to cross the line.

We approached the dais in which two thrones—one made of great obsidian, and the smaller one of iron—have been placed atop. Mother took a seat first and the people bowed in her presence, no one daring to meet our eyes. Even when I ascended they feared me too, though whereas Mother was full of glee to have her part of the cruelty of the week, my face remained blank; an expression I’ve long mastered to not give away my true feelings.

Perhaps I used to feel sorry for them when I was young. Remorse on their behalf, even. But now I felt nothing; just a cold abyss robbed of emotions. Perhaps if I were taking a more gleeful perspective, the School Master would consider kicking me out of the School for Good?

With that in thought, I plastered on a smile. Mother looked at me suspiciously but didn’t say anything. She lets the people stay like that for a whole minute, relishing in their tired shoulders, before her voice, cold and loud–like a mallet hitting glass–echoed in the Square: “Rise, my people.”

The people rose. While some of the lords and ladies wealthy enough to live in the richer neighborhood stood at the front lines, smiles on their faces in respect for the Queen are displayed, the peasants standing behind them looked as miserable as ever, their faces powdered with dirt and ash. An awful odor hung in the air—the scent of previous corpses whose lives had been taken here before.

At the center of the Square was a stage, which I think used to be a place to house performances instead of a large, hulking guillotine made of wood with a blade at the top, sharper than any knives. Mother made the blade herself—it never failed to perform a kill filled with blood instead of a clean one, since she loves the idea of the townspeople rubbing off the trickles from the Square’s pavement. The executioner stood ready by the guillotine, his eyes that could barely be seen over the piece of fabric covering half of his face examined a large bucket placed under the killing machine, as though contemplating whether it would hold the heads about to be chopped off today.

There was no law in the kingdom; not really. Mother, true to her Evil, lets the streets roam with beggars and thieves, even murderers. They go unpunished if it was not associated with the nobles or the royal family. Trying to escape, however, holds the same level of crime as both, because it meant abandoning the kingdom and its queen.

A senior goblin stepped forward, wearing a ridiculous cap that Mother insisted they wear for the trial as if the whole setting wasn’t horrific enough. “Your Majesties the Queen Grimhilde and Princess Maeve; may I present to you Hal, a slave who was caught trying to escape from the House of Waldorf in which he was employed,” the goblin announced.

A bulky man with thick muscles up his arms dragged a rope behind him in which a man was tied around the neck and made his way through the crowd for the stage by crawling on his knees. Like an arrow, a strange emotion rose inside me, and I battled it back down, disgusted by myself. Why did I feel that way? My hands twitched against the armrest of my throne, as though it was about to spring forward and save the slave from the dark fate that awaited him.

Beside me, Mother roared, “what do you have to say for yourself, slave?”

Does he not have a name? Even in his last living seconds, he would be known as the disobeying slave—never the man that he was inside. I caught myself with such thoughts and held back a wince. Fingers digging into my palm, I watched as one of the lords stepped forward with a look of hidden pride—perhaps to acknowledge the fact that the slave was his—over a mask of disappointment. He announced, “I shall speak for him, my Queen, for he was a property of mine.”

The Queen gave a curt nod. The Lord continued, “this man was found trying to flee to the woods last night. I say there shall not be mercy for this one!”

In reply, Mother raised a hand, shutting him up. The lord dropped his head under the Queen’s hard gaze. “Let the people decide,” she clipped, her eyes roaming over the audience. “What do you say, my people? Do we spare him?” A glint of mirth danced in her emerald green eyes. “Or do we punish him?”

The crowd roared at the last sentence. It was expected as any, especially with the careful watch of the guards surrounding every corner. Mother gave another nod, and the bulky man marched the slave up the stage, where the executioner was waiting, almost eager. We all waited with bated breath as the man was strapped down to the guillotine hole. I could almost see the executioner’s wicked grin behind his mask when he pulled the blade higher.

My face was blank as stone when the blade fell and the man’s screams filled my ears. The music of pure evil.

[burgers-and-french-fries]

Sunsets & Whisky Kisses: Chapter Forty Nine.

Jack stayed on the sofa that night for as long as he could but about three hours in, he got restless. He knew he shouldn’t have done what he did but it was too late to go back and change anything.

Grunting in annoyance, he sat up and decided that the best thing to do was to finish his plans for Anna’s new room. He stood up and went to make himself coffee. Once the coffee was ready, he poured the hot liquid into a very large cup and walked into his office where he later fell asleep.

Jack woke up when he felt a little hand slap his thigh a couple of times.

“Dada, mama cry.” Anna said, referring to the fact that Ryleigh had accidentally dropped the ‘R’, that Jack had given her the night she told him that she was pregnant with Anna, and cut herself.

“Why is mama crying?” Jack asked groggily as he rubbed his eyes and sat up.

“Her has owie.” Anna replied with concern.

Jack stood up and stretched.

“Where is she kiddo?” Jack asked as he picked Anna up and walked out of his office.

“I’m in the kitchen.” Ryleigh replied through her sniffles.

“What happened?” Jack questioned when his eyes landed on his wife’s thigh.

“I ran into the dresser and Knocked the initial over that you made me. Somehow it cut my thigh as it fell.” Ryleigh explained, feeling upset that she broke the ‘R’.

“Did it break?” Jack asked as he set Anna down and took the clean cloth from his wife's hand.

“Yeah.” Ryleigh replied as the tears welt up in her eyes again. “I’m so sorry.” She said as she watched Jack clean her wound.

“It’s ok honey. The main thing is that you’re ok.” He replied.

Ryleigh sighed and wiped her tears away.

“Mama still mad.” Anna stated as she looked up at her father.

“I see. What about you, are you still mad at me?” The father asked as he finished cleaning Ryleigh’s thigh.

“Yeah, but mama need you.” Anna answered with a serious nod of her head.

“Right.” Jack said, internally sighing.

“I think I’m good now. Thanks for helping me.” Ryleigh said.

Jack nodded and stepped away, not wanting to make Ryleigh angrier.

“You’re welcome.” Jack replied.

“Dada kiss it better.” Anna instructed as she pointed at him sternly.

“No sweet pea, I’m fine.” Ryleigh responded.

“Dada, kiss it better.” Anna said again, not giving up on it.

“Just do it Jack, she’s not giving up on it.” Ryleigh said with a huff.

“Now dada.” Anna said.

“Don’t be bossy little lady.” Ryleigh replied. Jack looked at Ryleigh and she nodded at him, letting him know that it was ok.

He knelt down and ran his fingers around the injury lightly. The way his fingertips traced her skin sent shivers down her spine. The way his warm breath fanned over her thigh had her mind racing with scenarios that were far too explicit and inappropriate to perform in front of a child.

His eyes traveled her body until he locked eyes with Ryleigh. Both of them could feel the electricity course through their veins. Jack’s eyes darkened slightly, making Ryleigh look away as her heart raced. She knew that if she kept watching him, Anna would be scarred for life.

Everything felt as though it was in slow motion as soon as Jack’s lips touched her. Her skin burned and all she wanted was to have him but she couldn’t for two reasons. Anna was in the room and she was nowhere near ready to forgive her husband yet.

“All better.” Ryleigh said when her husband pulled away.

“Why don’t you go and lay down for a while longer and I’ll watch the girls.” Jack suggested.

Ryleigh thought about it for a few minutes and decided that it wouldn’t hurt.

“Ok. Thanks.” Ryleigh said and walked off toward the stairs.

Anna watched her mother walk away and decided that she wasn’t ready to be alone with her father yet. The toddler ran after her mother but stopped when she dropped her ducky. Anna picked him up and continued her chase.

Jack chuckled to himself as he watched his daughter make a bee-line for her mother. The pitter patter of her feet and the way her little bum moved as she ran really warmed his heart. He was glad that Ryleigh was getting the attention Anna usually gave him, even if it did sting a little.

=

Dakota sat on the sofa watching Joshua play while she fed baby Katherine.

“Babe, it’s your brother.” Chase said as he handed Dakota her phone.

“Thanks.” Dakota said as she answered her phone. “What can I do for you, dog breath?” Dakota teased.

“Haha, very funny. I need your help.” Jack replied as he rolled his eyes.

“Let me guess, you want to know how you can guilt your wife into not being angry with you?” The woman asked.

“And Anna. Both of them are mad at me.” He replied.

“Four words. Spa and toy store.” Dakota said simply.

“Are you suggesting that I bribe my wife and daughter?” Jack asked amusement.

“Not at all. I’m just suggesting that you show them how much you love them.” She said with mock innocence.

“So bribe them then?” He smirked.

Dakota laughed.

“Yes, but don’t let on that I told you.” Dakota warned playfully.

The siblings talked for a few more minutes before Jack went to get himself some breakfast.

=

Grace moved around the kitchen making herself some breakfast before she actually got sick. You see, nausea had set in full force once she had announced her pregnancy to everyone. Not only did she experience nausea but she also had mild cramps. The cramps were something she experienced in her pregnancy with Ryleigh but obviously because it had been so many years, the woman had forgotten just how annoying all the pregnancy symptoms were.

“What has you up so early?” George asked as he sauntered toward his girlfriend sleepily.

“The baby.” She replied simply.

George nodded and made himself and Grace some tea, despite her telling him that he didn’t have to. Grace made the rest of her food and when it was all ready, she and George sat at the table to eat.  

George really wasn’t the type to have breakfast but on the days he did eat it, he usually had toast. Grace on the other hand, had made eggs, bacon, sausage and of course pancakes. Not forgetting that all important bowl of fruit on the side. Oh yeah, pregnancy symptoms and cravings had really kicked in.

“You sure you can eat all of that food?” George asked, earning himself a glare from the full mouthed woman beside him.

George chuckled and continued to eat his food before having to get ready and go to work.

=

“Come on kiddo. Let mama sleep.” Jack said as he picked Anna up in his arm that wasn’t holding an alert Parker.

“I sleep too.” Anna whined as she wriggled in her father’s grasp, hoping that he’d let her go.

“No, you let mama sleep. You, me and Parker are going out so that mama can sleep and not be disturbed.” Jack explained.

The father reached the main floor and placed Anna down.

“Go get your shoes please, sweet pea.” The father said.

Anna did as she was asked and Jack walked over to the kitchen counter to write a note for Ryleigh and leave her one of his cards so that she could treat herself to whatever she wanted. He had also booked her an appointment so that she could get her nails done.

Jack knew that bribing his girls wasn’t the right thing to do but if it meant that they would forgive him, then he would continue to bribe them for as long as he wanted.

“Otay dada.” Anna said, running toward him with her sandals.

“Good girl. Let’s go to the car and I’ll put your shoes on once I put Parker in her car seat.” Jack explained.

Anna eyed him suspiciously.

“I’m taking you and sissy out so that mama can sleep.” He said but Anna still looked at him. “I’ll take you to the toy store.” He offered and Anna jumped up and down excitedly.

“Yay.” She cheered, making her father chuckle. Even Parker cracked a small smile, which made Jack chuckle even more. He really did love his girls. They meant the world to him.

“Ok little ones, let’s go to the car.” Jack said.

Anna ran to the front door and waited for her father to open the door so that she could run outside.

=

Once they got to the toy store, Jack got the stroller out and set it up before getting Parker and Anna out.

“Is ducky all comfy?” Jack asked as he watched Anna place her baby in the very bottom compartment of the stroller.

“Yes dada.” Anna replied.

Jack nodded and picked her up and got her all buckled into her seat before heading inside.

As soon as the father stepped foot into the toy warehouse, Anna started kicking her feet with excitement.

Not wanting Parker to wake up from her nap she’d decided to take in the car, Jack unbuckled Anna and took her out. He made it abundantly clear to the toddler that she had to stay beside him and hold his hand.

Anna agreed and together they walked the isles until Jack opened his mouth.

“What toy do you want? Only one though.” He said, not realizing that his daughter would soon run off.

“All of dem.” Anna replied a-matter-of-factly.

Jack chuckled and shook his head as they continued to walk around.

It didn’t take Anna long to spot something, remove her hand from Jack’s and run off toward the toy she saw.

Jack had to practically run to keep up with her.

Eventually he got to her and saw that she was holding a ducky. The exact one that was in the bottom compartment of the stroller.

“I have two?” Anna questioned, trying to see if her father would let her get two toys instead of one.

“No honey.” Jack said.

“I have two?” Anna tried again.

“No.” Jack said firmly.

“Peas?” Anna asked, giving her father her best puppy eyes.

“Anna, I said only one. You need to listen please.” Jack warned but Anna ignored him and pulled a ducky from the shelf.

The tot walked over to the stroller and attempted to place the new ducy beside her sister. She wanted her sister to have one as Anna knew what a good friend her ducky was.

“Sissy.” Anna said softly as she looked up at her father with a slight sadness in her eyes due to the fact that her father wasn’t letting her pick a toy for her baby Parker.

“That’s why you wanted two toys?” Jack asked, feeling an overwhelming amount of pride for his daughter’s sweet heart.

Anna nodded and rocked back and forth on her feet cutely.

“Her have ducky?” Anna asked with genuine hope in her voice. “Peas?” Anna questioned when her father’s silence grew.

“Sure.” He answered with a bright smile.

Jack moved the new ducky toy closer to Parker and the baby, who was now awake, smiled at her father.

“Otay, my turn.” Anna said as she trudged off to where she had seen the wooden toys when the trio had walked in.

The father walked closely behind his daughter so that he could still see her but also in case she tried to run off again.

Once she reached the toys she was looking for, Anna walked toward the cars. There was one slight problem though, the cars were higher off the ground and Anna was only 2ft and 5.13” tall.

The little girl turned around and looked up at her father. Jack smiled and picked the tot up so that she had a better view.

“Tata dada.” Anna said.

“You’re welcome, sweet pea.” Jack said as he pushed the stroller closer to the shelf.

“Want dem peas.” Anna said as her little index finger pointed to a cool looking car set.

 “You sure you want the cars?” Jack asked, making sure that Anna truly wanted them.

“Yeah peas.” Anna said with an enthusiastic nod.

“Alrighty, kiddo. Let’s put them next to your ducky and go and pay for them.” Jack said as he took the box off the shelf and put it in the stroller.

The father took the items to the checkout and paid for what Anna had chosen.

=

Meanwhile, Ryleigh had gone downstairs and saw the note and the credit card Jack had left for her. She had a sneaking suspicion that this was Jack’s way of guilting her into talking to him again and even if it was, she’d never turn down a chance to use her husband’s card and treat herself.

The woman had decided that she would just throw on whatever was comfortable and tie her hair up and however she looked, people were just going to have to deal with it.

After she was all ready, Ryleigh got into her truck and headed to where she knew Jack had booked her nail appointment.

The entire drive there, Ryleigh thought of what else she could buy for herself. She went back and forth between something for herself or something that both her and Jack could enjoy. In the end, she decided to go with something that both her and Jack could enjoy.

Just as she parked at the nail place, Jack called her.

“May I help you Mason?” Ryleigh said with boldness.

“Wow, forget I called then.” Jack replied, knowing that she was somewhat teasing.

“What do you want Jackson?” Ryleigh asked.

At that, Jack knew he was still in trouble.

“I just called to say that we’re going to McDonalds. Do you want anything?” He inquired.

Ryleigh smiled to herself.

“Double quarter pounder with bacon and cheese. Large fries and to drink I want an large sprite and then maybe a large strawberry triple thick milkshake.” Ryleigh replied, making sure to give her request some thought as she spoke.

“You really hate me don’t you?” Jack asked, inwardly groaning at what she had asked him to get for her.

“It’s only $14.37.” Ryleigh said with a shrug.

“You’re lucky I love you.” He teased.

“Yeah, I love you too.” Ryleigh said.

“Want anything else or are you ok with that?” Jack questioned.

“I think that should be good. Enjoy your food. Please give the girls a kiss for me.” The woman replied.

“Will do babe.” He said before hanging up the phone.

Ryleigh smiled and put her phone in her bag before getting out of her vehicle and walking into the building she was parked in front of.

=

“What do you want Annie?” Jack asked as he sat in the drive through of McDonalds.

“Aprise.” Anna said with certainty.

Jack chuckled and nodded.

“Happy meal?” He asked, looking at the little girl through the rear view mirror.

“Peas dada.” She replied and went back to looking out the window.

“What do you think Parker should have?” He asked, wanting to see what his oldest would say.

“Too whittle.” Anna said, not even bothering to look in her father’s direction.

“I see. I suppose Ducky is too small for a treat as well.” Jack shrugged.

He pulled forward a little bit and waited for the person in front of him to order their food.

Anna snapped her eyes to her father and smiled.

“Cookie peas.” Anna said excitedly.

“How about we get three cookies. One for mama, one for me and one for you and ducky to share.” Jack suggested.

Anna nodded and smiled.

“Tata dada.” The tot said with a wide toothy grin.

“You’re welcome kiddo.” He answered, pulling up to the speaker so that he could order everything.

When he was sure that he had asked for everything, he glanced down at the price and saw that the total came to $24.15.  

Normally Jack and Ryleigh would try to keep their food from McDonalds under $20 but Jack figured that because of what he’d done, he’d go above and treat his girls.

“Should we go home quickly to put mama’s food in the fridge and then go to the park to eat our lunch or should we have a picnic in the backyard?” Jack asked Anna.

“Home.” Anna replied.

“Okie dokie.” Jack said as he put the signal on to turn in the direction of their house.

=

It had been about an hour since George had left for work and Grace was getting ready for her first ultrasound. She was super excited to see the baby and hopefully hear the heartbeat.

The woman had promised her boyfriend that she would pick him up and they would go to the appointment together.

“Ok. Keys, bag, wallet, water, snack, medical documents.” Grace said as she went through everything that she knew she needed for today.

Once she was sure she had everything, Grace rushed to the car with excitement.

Before long, Grace pulled up to the burger place and hurried inside.

“What has you all happy?” George joked.

“We get to see our baby today.” Grace beamed, making George chuckle.

“You ready to go then?” The man questioned.

Grace nodded.

“Definitely.” She answered cheerfully.

George walked back into the kitchen to wash up and remove his apron.

The couple then went to the doctor’s office where the appointment was being held.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Grace wondered out loud.

“I’d be lying if I told you that I wasn’t nervous.” George responded with a nervous smile.

“This baby is going to love you. You’re going to be an amazing dad.” Grace said truthfully as she held George’s hand in hers.

=

“Alright kiddo, you all done?” Jack asked Anna as she flopped back on the trampoline.

When they got home and Jack put Ryleigh’s food in the fridge, Anna asked if they could  sit on the trampoline and eat their food while Parker took her nap upstairs. Jack agreed and that’s where they were now. Full and relaxed.

“All done.” Anna confirmed as she threw her ducky in the air and giggled when he landed on her face.

“Shall we go in and you can watch a cartoon while dada fixes mama’s letter?” Jack asked and Anna nodded and rolled onto her side so that she could sit up.

Once she was sat up, Anna moved over to her father and she threw her arms around him and gave him a hug.

“Love dada.” She mumbled.

Jack kissed the top of her head and held her close to him.

“Dada loves you too, sweet pea.” He replied.

Unbeknownst to them, Ryleigh had returned real quick to grab something she had promised Dakota she would drop off for Katie.

Ryleigh saw the sweet moment and smiled to herself. It was still so nice to see that Anna loved her dada so much and that her dada loved her just as much.

The woman walked back toward the front door before she was seen. She didn’t want to disturb the fun morning/after Jack and Anna were having.

=

Back at the doctor’s office, Grace and George were watching their baby squirm around on the screen in front of them.

George felt all his worries fade away as soon as he saw the baby. He knew that there were going to be challenges but he also knew that if he needed any help, Ryleigh, Jack, Chase and Dakota would gladly share their knowledge with him. He had full confidence that everything would be ok.

“Would you like to hear the heartbeat?” The ultrasound technician asked.

George and Grace looked at each other with bright smiles before Grace turned toward the other woman.

“Yes please.” Grace said. The tech smiled and turned the sound up so that the expectant parents could hear the steady rhythm of their baby’s strong and healthy heartbeat.

The sound was better than anything George had ever heard. To him it was the confirmation that he needed to know that he was doing the right thing.

George had always known that he wanted to marry Grace but he had heard that she had gotten married and had a child, George knew that his chances of marrying Grace were over.

When he and Grace had gotten back into contact, those feelings of wanting to marry her returned. He knew he had found the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Sure they were both older and kids would probably be out of the question, but that didn’t matter to him.

However, when Grace told him that she was pregnant, George knew that this had happened for a reason.

This baby was already loved beyond all comprehension and he couldn’t wait to see what traits the little one inherited from him and which ones they got from their mother. The mother that George was so in love with and knew 100% he was going to marry.

“Alright. I’ll get the pictures printed off for you and you can pick them up at the front desk.” The tech explained, making George jump.

“Thank you.” Grace replied.

The woman nodded, stood up and left the room.

“You ok? You kind of spaced out on me.” Grace stated softly, letting her hand caress George’s cheek gently.

“We’re going to be ok.” He whispered before kissing her sweetly.

=

Back at the Mason household, Anna had gone down for her nap and Jack took that time to fix the ‘R’ that had broken earlier in the day.

It took him a little over half an hour to fix it but when he was done, you barely see where certain pieces had broken off. Jack was pleased with how it turned out.

“Jackson, I’m home.” Ryleigh called when she walked through the door.

Jack heard her and placed the letter back in its original spot before hurrying down the stairs to see her.

“Slow down, you’ll fall if you’re not careful.” Ryleigh warned.

Jack nodded and sighed, catching his breath.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” The woman asked.

“Maybe because I’m happy to see you.” He said casually.

“Right, well. I’m going upstairs to change.” Ryleigh said somewhat coldly.

“No kiss or hug?” Jack asked. He knew Ryleigh had to still be upset at him but so much that she would refuse to greet him the way she normally would.

“No. Nice try though.” She said as she ascended the stairs tiredly.

Jack nodded sadly to himself and walked into the kitchen to get her food out of the fridge. He wanted to make sure it was ready for her to dig into.

“I could have done that myself you know.” Ryleigh said as she walked into the kitchen.

“I just thought I’d have it out and ready so that you could simply enjoy it. Sorry for being helpful.” Jack snapped.

“You, helpful? If you wanted to be helpful in the first place, you should have told me that you went to see George and told me that you knew my mother was pregnant. Setting out food isn’t going to right your wrong. Neither is fixing the letter up there.” Ryleigh snapped back.

Jack looked at her with defeat.

“You’re right. I should have told you but I knew how you’d react if I did. I thought I was doing the right thing by respecting your mother’s wishes for no one to know until she told George. And by the way, it was Anna who wanted to go and see George, not me.” He snarked, throwing the dish towel he was holding to the ground.

He walked out to the backyard and sat down on the porch swing.

“We aren't finished.” Ryleigh said as she stepped out of the house.

“Yes, we are.” Jack said as he turned back to look at the view in front of him.

“Did you fix that letter because you were trying to bribe me into talking to you again?” Ryleigh asked after a few minutes of silence.

Even though Jack knew that it was a bribe, he could see in his wife’s eyes that she still wanted to pick a fight. He decided not to fuel the fire and went for answer B.

“No. I knew how much that letter meant to you, so I fixed it.” He responded.

Ryleigh sighed and shook her head.

“Maybe I overreacted a little.” She said as she sat next to him on the swing.

Her food was long forgotten by this point.

“A little? Ryleigh, you pretty much chewed the guy to pieces and spat him out. Not to mention how you made your mother feel. You made us all feel like shit.” Jack said, standing up from the swing.

“Where are you going?” Ryleigh asked.

“To be alone.” He said. Ryleigh sat in her spot and thought about what he had said.

Deep down, she knew Jack was right. She had let her own feelings and emotions get the better of her and essentially created a big mess.

She honestly didn’t think about the consequences for her actions until now.

Ryleigh stood up and went inside.

She walked over to where she had left her food and split everything in half. Some for her and some for her husband as a peace offering.

Ryleigh had even made her husband a fresh cup of coffee before heading toward his office where she knew he’d be.

To her annoyance, the door to the office was closed which meant that she would have to awkwardly knock with her foot.

“Go away Ryleigh.” Jack called from the other side of the door.

“Please open the door.” She whined.

Jack groaned and threw his pencil to the desk.

Ryleigh heard him and swallowed nervously.

“What part of ‘alone’ do you not understand?” Jack grumbled, ignoring the fact that Ryleigh was standing there with food.

“Look, I’m sorry ok. It’s just hard knowing that mom is moving on so quickly.” The woman said quietly whilst averting her eyes from Jack’s intense glare.

“Ryleigh, you’re not the only one finding it hard. How you acted was ridiculous and incredibly childish.” He lectured, making Ryleigh look at her feet in shame.

When Ryleigh didn’t say anything, mainly because she knew if she looked at him or opened her mouth to speak, she’d start crying.

“If that’s all, leave me be.” Jack said rigidly as he went to close the door.

“Can you stop getting mad at me. I get it ok. How I acted was stupid but are you really going to keep making me feel guilty?” Ryleigh asked with full defeat in her voice.

Jack could tell that she was on the verge of tears and sighed, softening his features just a little bit.

“You know that food is for you right?” Jack asked and Ryleigh nodded.

“I wanted to share it with you as sort of a peace offering. At least  I had hoped I could share it with you.” She replied with a slight shrug.

“If I say yes to the food, will you promise me that the next time something happens, you won’t fly off the handle. That you will actually act like an adult?” Jack bartered.

“I’ll try but what will you do if I forget and fly off the handle again?” Ryeligh asked, genuinely curious.

“Just don’t shut me out. We can talk about it when we’re in private or whatever.” Jack replied.

“Okay.” She said.

“Right. You want to see what I’ve been working on for Anna’s room?” Jack questioned, hoping it would make Ryleigh smile.

“I’d love that. Thank you.” Ryleigh said as she breathed a sigh of relief.

Jack took the coffee mug from her and walked into his office with her following behind. Ryleigh shut the door and sat the food on his desk.

“Can I kiss you?” Ryleigh asked as she stood in the middle of the room.

Jack chuckled and walked over to where his wife was.

“You never have to ask to kiss me you know. I will always welcome any and all forms of affection from you.” He whispered as he leaned in to kiss her softly.

Ryleigh looped her arms around Jack’s neck and enjoyed the feel of his lips against hers. She had actually missed sleeping next to him the night before. She missed turning over, knowing that he was there. She missed their goodnight kiss. She missed him. He was her home and he always would be, no matter how many fights they had.

“I love you so much and I’m sorry for everything.” Ryleigh said after she broke the kiss.

“I love you too. Always.” Jack replied, resting his forehead against Ryleigh’s.

He closed his eyes and just enjoyed holding her in his arms.

Slowly, Jack began to sway back and forth to a silent melody in his head. Ryleigh let him lead and chuckled when he started humming.

They could have kept dancing if it weren’t for the knock on the front door.

“Pretend we aren’t here.” Ryleigh said quietly.

“Whoever it is, they won’t go away.” Jack replied as he pulled away.

Ryleigh grumbled and followed her husband to the entryway.

Jack pulled open the door to reveal Grace.

“Hi mom, what can we help you with?” Ryleigh said with a new found cheeriness.

Grace smiled widely.

“I hope it’s ok that we just dropped by. We wanted to show you something.” Grace replied.

“It’s fine. The girls are napping and Jack and I were talking.” Ryleigh explained as she let her mother in.

“Thank you honey.” Grace said.

“Would you like some tea or something?” Jack asked.

“Tea sounds great, thanks Jack.” Grace replied as she and Ryleigh sat at the table.

“So, what did you want to show me?” Ryleigh asked, not thinking anything of it.

Grace smiled and pulled out a picture of the ultrasound, handing it to her daughter.

“Seriously?” Ryleigh said incredulously.

“Pretty neat eh?” Grace asked, not realizing that Ryleigh was upset.

“Neat? How could you?” Ryleigh scoffed, handing the picture back to her mother.

Ryleigh knew that she had promised Jack that she wouldn’t flip out again but if anything, the fact that her mother hadn’t even told her about the ultrasound, let alone ask her if she wanted to go, hurt her in more ways than one.

“I thought you’d be happy and excited to see the baby.” Grace said as tears grew in her eyes.

Jack walked over to the women and saw the looks on their faces.

“What now.” Jack whined, having had more than enough with all the drama.

“What now? Really?” Ryleigh said as she stood up and went upstairs.

Grace laid her head on the table and Jack rubbed her back.

“She’ll come around.” He said, hoping that it would ease the hurt that Grace was feeling.

“I don’t think she will.” Grace mumbled.

“She promised me that she wouldn’t flip out again.” Jack admitted and Grace smiled sadly.

“Maybe it’s best if we just left.” She said.

“We?” Jack asked.

“George is on the phone in the car.” Grace replied simply.

“I see.” Jack said before stomping could be heard.

“Mama is mean.” Anna shouted from the top of the steps. “Her woke me up.” She shouted again.

Jack groaned and went upstairs to get Anna.

The father picked her up and took her downstairs to keep her grandmother company while he got her water ready.

“Hi Mi.” Anna greeted when she realized her grandmother was beside her.

“Hi sweet girl.” Grace asked as she tucked Anna’s hair behind her ear.

Anna giggled and shrugged her shoulders.

“Here you go my darling.” Jack said as he placed Anna’s cup in front of her.

“Tata dada.” Anna replied as she lifted the cup to her mouth and leaned back to chug a bunch of water.

“Slow down Anna.” Jack said when the little girl leaned forward and started sputtering.

“I otay.” Anna said as she caught her breath.

Ryleigh walked downstairs with Parker in her arms.

“Got anything you want to say to your mother?” Jack asked as he looked at his wife.

“Yes, I do actually.” Ryleigh replied as she turned to face her husband.

He raised his brow at her as if to say ‘well, tell her already.’

“I know I didn’t exactly show any enthusiasm when you announced that you were pregnant but you could have at least told me you had an appointment today. I mean, when I was pregnant with the girls, I made sure to keep you included and even brought you along to them but when it comes to this baby, I don’t even get told? That hurts.” Ryleigh explained as calmly as she could.

Grace looked at her daughter. She honestly hadn’t even thought to ask Ryleigh if she wanted to tag along, so for this, Grace couldn’t really say anything.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. I was too excited to even realize that I should have at least told you.” Grace said and Ryleigh nodded.

“Thank you. It may not have seemed like it but I would have actually liked to go, this is my sibling after all.” The younger woman admitted, shocking her mother and her husband.

“I see baby peas?” Anna asked as she looked at her grandmother.

“I have a whole bunch of them.” Grace said as she pulled them out, not caring that she had pulled other documents out as well.

She picked up a couple more pictures and placed them in front of her granddaughter.

Anna giggled as she pointed to the blob in the picture.

“Wittle.” Anna stated.

“The baby is small right now but it will get bigger.” Grace explained and smiled brightly once more.

“Is that my birth certificate?” Ryleigh asked, never really having seen the document thoroughly.

“It sure is but I should put it back into my bag before it gets lost.” Grace answered a little too quickly for Ryleigh’s liking.

Ryligh grabbed it before her mother could and looked at it, wondering what her mother didn’t want her to see.

Soon enough, Ryleigh found the reason. Her biological last name was missing.

“Why is my last name missing?” Ryleigh asked.

Jack stood up and took the document from his wife so that he could look as well. Even though he knew David wasn’t Ryleigh’s real father, he didn’t think Ryleigh’s last name would be missing.

“I can explain.” Grace said nervously.

“I’d start if I were you.” Ryleigh warned, causing Jack to close his eyes and prepare for the screaming match that was about to happen.

“It’s blank because I didn’t know if I should add a last name or not.” The woman admitted.

Ryleigh saw red.

“Why not?” Ryleigh asked, eerily calm.

“Because I-” Grace started before Ryleigh handed Parker off to her father.

Jack knew right then that he should take the girls outside but as he moved, Ryleigh turned to look at him.

“Take them upstairs and then get your ass back down here.” Ryleigh said and Jack knew not to argue but in this situation he had to.

“Ryleigh, I’m not leaving them on their own.” He said calmly.

“Fine.” She said.

She took  a deep breath to try and release some of the rage she felt.

“Start explaining.” Ryleigh said, now looking at her mother.

“David wasn’t your real father.” Grace said softly and Ryleigh’s heart broke. It was like losing him all over again.

“I met your real father at a bar one night.  David, Anna, Gabriel and myself had decided to go out for drinks and your father was sitting alone at the bar and the other three dared me to get his phone number. One thing led to another and you were here nine months later.” Grace explained as she watched Ryleigh’s face fall.

The woman could see the unshed tears in her daughter’s eyes and knew she should have told her years ago.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Ryleigh asked with a brokenness to her voice that Jack and Grace hadn’t heard since David had died.

“I didn’t tell you because David and I agreed that he would raise you as his. We wanted to protect you.” Grace said as her own tears fell.

“Protect me from what?” Ryleigh questioned.

“Your father was in the military at the time and I just didn’t want you to know about him and then lose him.” Grace answered.

Ryleigh nodded and scoffed.

“You are something else, you know that? How can you expect me to feel normal now. I feel like my life has been a lie.” Ryleigh sobbed.

Jack carefully laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder. When she didn’t push him away, he knew that she wasn’t mad but just severely disappointed.

“Who is my father?” Ryleigh asked and before Grace could answer, George walked through the door.

Jack had texted George and let him know that the door was open for him when his phone call was finished.

“What’s happened here?” George asked when he saw both Ryleigh and Grace crying.

“Mama mad an Mi sad.” Anna answered softly.

“I see.” George responded.

That’s when it clicked for Ryleigh. The only person that she knew of that had been in the military was George and she remembered back to the dinner when something was said about George and her mother having known each other beforehand.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Ryleigh shouted, making everyone jump.

Grace knew that Ryleigh had just figured it out.

“What?” Jack inquired.

“Please tell me he knows?” Ryleigh asked her mother, completely ignoring her husband.

Grace shook her head and looked at her hands.

“What is she kidding about?” Jack asked again, hoping to get an answer this time.

“George is Ryleigh’s father.” Grace admitted.

George stepped back from Grace and Ryleigh scoffed. Hearing her mother say it out loud hurt.

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me I had a child?” George shouted.

Ryleigh looked at her husband and he nodded. He took Anna and Parker outside to play while the other three worked their issues out.

“How could I have told you if I didn’t know where you were going? By the time that I found out I was pregnant, you were gone and I was on my own with a child I wasn’t ready for.” Grace finally yelled.

Ryleigh felt as though her heart was being ripped out and pulverized. First she loses a man she thinks is her father, finds out that he isn’t and then finds out that her mother didn’t want her at first. It was all too much.

“Don’t blame me, I offered to give you an address where you could send mail but you turned that down.” George spat.

“He’s right mom. You robbed us of knowing each other. You robbed me of having A father to walk me down the aisle at my wedding, you robbed me of having a father there when my daughters were born. You robbed us all by doing what you did and truthfully, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for this.” Ryleigh said through her tears.

“I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing.” Grace said as she placed her head in her hands and sobbed.

“I’ll never have those moments back.” Ryleigh said with complete heartbreak.

“Ok, that’s enough. I get that you are all hurting but you’re scaring the girls with all your screaming so please, either go somewhere else or drop it.” Jack yelled as he walked back into the house.

“He’s right. Let’s go Grace, we’ll talk at home.” George said and Grace nodded.

He helped his girlfriend compile all that she had pulled out and Ryleigh went upstairs.

She was far too hurt to talk or see anyone else.

=

Later that night when the girls were in bed, Jack held Ryleigh in his arms as she cried for hours on end.

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