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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

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Conferences (Maxwell Lord/Lorenzano x f!teacher!Reader)

Summary: Alistair Lorenzano is a third grader in your class, whom you absolutely adore. Upon meeting his father, Maxwell, you suddenly have much more interest in the Lorenzano family. Set after WW84.

W/C: 2.9k

Warnings: language, flirting, talk of divorce and trauma, lots of talk of children and such, especially Alistair. brief nondescript mentions of Maxwell’s shitty childhood. uh. Spoilers for The Great Gatsby lmao

A/N: well! I haven’t written for max in a long time but the ship request (which are CLOSED) i received here really made me inspired! hope u guys like it :)

Alistair Lorenzano was a joy to have in class. You mean it too, not like when you don’t have a comment for a child’s report card and you just stick that phrase on the bottom. No, Alistair is a genuinely good kid.

The little dark haired boy walked in proudly on the first day, even as none of the other children came over to say hello or pal around with him. He seemed lonely, but he marched up to your desk and placed a beautiful apple on the desk, giving you a gap-toothed grin and introducing himself with a handshake. Alistair didn’t talk to his other classmates much that day, or any other day really. He was usually preoccupied with a book of some sort.

He sits alone at lunch and recess, usually burying his nose in a book as the other children play. He’s progressed quite quickly, reading big wordy books the other fourth graders surely couldn’t handle. When a child has no one to play with, Alistair will sit with them and talk. He’ll always help a struggling classmate with their long division or come up with a good synonym for them. He rarely raises his hand, but he’s almost always correct.

He’ll come in early most mornings. He doesn’t talk much about his family, but he says his dad works early in the morning and that he has to drop him off earlier. That’s fine with you; the kid is a good conversationalist and will read quietly while you arrange lesson plans or grade spelling tests.

You wonder what his family is like. All you know about his father is that he works early in the morning. His mother has dropped him off late several times, but that always led to more early mornings; presumably his father’s doing.

As a teacher, you tend to shy away from family-based assignments. You’re fully aware that some of your students won’t want to share what their parents do for a living, or talk about them at all. That’s why you don’t know much about the Lorenzano family- you don’t ask and Alistair doesn’t share.

Conferences are approaching soon as you approach the midpoint of the first semester. Most parents don’t come if their children are doing well; typically, only the parents of struggling children make appearances. That’s why you’re surprised to read the note Alistair hands you when he walks in, thirty minutes before class begins, as always.

You frown reading the little note of paper, pushing your glasses up your nose. “You’re sure that your father needs a conference?” You ask the little boy. He looks confused. “I’d love to meet him,” you say hurriedly, sipping your morning coffee. “It’s just that… you’re a very smart kid, Alistair. Usually it’s the parents of kids who don’t do so well that sign up for conferences.”

Alistair shrugs, taking off his puffy fall jacket and hanging it on his hook near your desk. “I don’t know. Dad just said he wanted that time,” he says, pointing at your paper.

Dramatically uncapping a colored flare pen, you make a show out of writing down the name for your 7:30 time slot: Mr Lorenzano. “Well, I will see your dad then,” you tell the kid with a smile. He seems pleased that you’re excited. “What’s his name?”

“Maxwell,” Alistair informs you, sitting at his desk and cracking open his book.

You repeat the name, writing it down in the purple pen you chose. “Your family has very elegant names,” you tease Alistair.

Alistair shrugs. “Dad likes to sound fancy.”

Maxwell has never met you, but he feels that he knows you like an old friend. Alistair absolutely adores you, tells his father about you at any chance he gets.

You sound wonderful. He supposes that Alistair would adore any female figure in his life right now. Vanessa, the former Mrs. Lord, has all but rejected her son. When Alistair would spend time at her place, she’d practically ignore her own kid, prioritizing whatever she wanted to do. Several days, Alistair was late to or completely missed school thanks to Vanessa’s ignorance.

That’s why Maxwell has taken nearly full custody now. Vanessa didn’t argue it. She was glad to have Alistair out of her hair. Besides, she resented Maxwell for endless reasons, usually unfounded. She wanted to see him struggle.

But Maxwell thrived. Alistair and his father are as close as can be. Maxwell now works a menial job, after the whole Dreamstone fiasco, but he’s managing to make ends meet. When they have enough money left over, he’ll take Alistair to the movies or buy him a new lego kit.

Maxwell hasn’t found love since Vanessa, but he thinks you might be the one for him. One could call him a hopeless romantic; his heart builds and breaks as easily as a wave on the shore. You sound so nurturing and lovely, so wonderful to the one Maxwell loves most. That’s partially why he scheduled the conference with you.

The other part was that Alistair is a budding genius in Maxwell’s eyes. He flies through thick books day in and day out, and Max wants to accommodate the skills in his son. He constantly tells him how proud of him he is, but he wants to make sure he can keep helping him learn.

On the day of the conference, Maxwell is nervous. Why is he nervous? He combs his closet several times to find one of the nice suits from his glory days, but decides it to be ridiculous. He’s not sure how much Alistair tells you about his family, but he’s sure you know he is no longer the television personality Max Lord. Instead, he settles for a dress shirt and pants, tossing on a light jacket over it. The fall air is turning crisp, especially in the evenings.

Doña Gloria from next door knocks on the door at promptly 7:00, and Alistair pops up to answer it. He loves the old woman, and wraps her in a big hug. Gloria walks inside the apartment, grinning at the sight of Maxwell’s outfit. “Ah, making a good impression on the boy’s teacher,” she nods in approval.

“Hoping to,” he nods and adjusts the suede jacket over his lapels, fidgeting with the zipper. “Alistair, why don’t you go find that game you wanted to play with Doña Gloria?”

The child runs off obediently and the woman straightens his collar for him. “Little Maxie has a crush,” she sings.

“Gloria,” he frowns as he messes with the cuffs. “I’ve never even met the woman.”

She gives a knowing smile. “But you know her. You know her through Alistair, all his stories. I’m sure she will love you, mijo.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” he sighs and pats his pockets, checking for his wallet. “She’s Alistair’s teacher. I can’t just-“

“You can do whatever the hell you want, Mr. Lorenzano,” the woman chuckles and reassures him. “Go get her.”

He shakes his head. “It’s a conference, not a date,” he says as he walks towards the door.

“It can be both!” Is the last thing he hears before he shuts the door, making him laugh.

Conferences, as always, are a pain in the ass. You sit and make small talk with parents, discussing their child’s skills with their times table versus their writing proficiency, their standardized test scores and how they stack up.

As the night passes, you grow more frazzled. Your hair, neatly tucked back, falls out in strands, and your glasses seem to slide down your nose more and more often. Some parents verbally abuse you for their children’s poor scores on their science test. Others try to get to know you a little too personally. All part of a day’s work.

A hopeful smile dares to peek out as you read your schedule and arrange your sampling of Alistair’s works. You’re eager to meet his father, to meet the man Alistair so rarely talks about but clearly adores.

There’s a knock on your classroom door at 7:30 on the dot. Shoving your glasses up your nose one time, you hurry to the door and allow the man in. “Hi, nice to meet you, Mr. Lorenzano,” you tell him and shake his hand, leading him to your desk.

Something about him seems familiar. He’s very attractive, that’s something. He doesn’t have his son’s dark, nearly black hair, but rather a light brown with bits of blonde interjected throughout. He has his son’s deep brown eyes, and his very presence makes you smile. He looks put together, dressed similarly to other fathers you’ve seen tonight.

You tuck your skirt under you as you sit in your chair. The man’s voice is smooth and beautiful as he speaks. “It’s nice to meet you as well. Alistair talks endlessly about you at home.”

Smiling, you shuffle some of his papers. The man is distractingly handsome, you find as you scramble to grab Alistair’s math test. “Well, he’s a very special kid. I adore having him in my class, truly. Your son is going places, Mr. Lorenzano.”

“Please, Max,” he shakes his head, producing something from a pocket. “Oh, and… for you.”

The sight makes you nearly laugh, but instead you break into a grin. The man’s large hand holds a shiny red apple, perfectly shaped. “Thank you,” you laugh and set it on your desk. “You know, I have no idea where that silly custom comes from.”

“I should ask Alistair,” Maxwell chuckles, his face heating as he takes in the beauty of your smile. “He knows so much. It wouldn’t be a stretch for him to know that.”

Nodding, you hand over an assortment of Alistair’s schoolwork and artwork. “He really does. I appreciate having a fellow avid reader in my class. He’s so bright, it’s… wild, really. Do you or… Mrs. Lorenzano,” you say, treading lightly, “do anything supplementary that advances his learning?”

Max looks down at the papers. “Well, she isn’t Mrs. Lor- Lorenzano anymore,” he shakes his head, his eyes not meeting yours for a moment. He stumbles, nearly using his former business name of Lord. “But no. I have nearly full custody of Alistair, and he flies through books. It’s absurd,” the man laughs, his pride in his eyes as he looks at you. “I mean, neither of us were ever as smart as this. I don’t know where he got it from.”

You frown at that. “You seem very smart, Max. May I ask what you do for a living?”

His brow furrows. “Alistair hasn’t told you?”

You shake your head, adjusting your glasses. God, Maxwell wants to do that for you, push them up your nose or better yet, take them off and kiss you deeply. “I don’t push kids to talk about their home lives. Some don’t want to share,” you shrug.

“I wish I would’ve had a teacher like you in my day,” he chuckles sadly. “I... well, I work currently for a corporate office in Arlington. It’s nothing very exciting, or anything that requires skill.”

You shrug, smiling a little. “It must be an important job or they wouldn’t pay you to do it.”

His chuckle is a little more upbeat. “I suppose. I just… my family was very poor when I was a child. I don’t want Alistair to feel ashamed that I don’t make as much money as his other classmates. Tell me, he doesn’t seem very social. Is he…?”

You want to phrase it properly, so you stutter for a moment. “Well, to put it plainly, no. Alistair does not talk much with his classmates. He’s a very quiet boy, as I’m sure you know. It’s not that they ostracize him, but rather that he chooses to be alone. He’s always reading rather than playing soccer or whatever,” you shrug. “It’s most certainly not exclusion on the basis of… having less money.”

Maxwell’s shoulders relax a little. “Well, I’m glad. Honestly, I don’t mind that he’s quiet. I’m glad he’s learning.”

“I’d usually disagree, but I have to say the same,” you chuckle. “He’s a really good kid, Max. You should be proud to have him as a son. Don’t tell anyone, but he’s my favorite student.”

He’s absolutely beaming with pride. “That’s all I could ask for. Thank you.”

“Of course! How could I not love that kid?” you chuckle as you admire a drawing Alistair made of a scene from his favorite book. “Was that all you wanted to talk about?” You ask, unsure if he had more concerns.

Maxwell’s almost startled by the question. “Oh! Yes, I got sidetracked,” he chuckles, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He’s painfully beautiful, and his laugh makes you laugh in return. It’s safe to say you really like the Lorenzano family. “He just goes through book after book, it’s endless. Do you have any recommendations for continued reading? I want him to keep going like this, truly.”

Tapping a pen against your gradebook, you think on it for a moment. “I guess the best way would be positive reinforcement, but not reward. If you, say, incentivized it, he might see it as a chore to earn the money or toy or whatever.”

Maxwell nods as he listens, a small smile on his face as he listens to your voice and intellect. Yes, his theory earlier was correct. He does have a crush on you. “Naturally.”

“So, my recommended course of action would really just be praise and support. Tell him you’re proud of him. Offer to take him to the library to pick out some more. Those little things mean more to a kid than we can know.”

Max does know, actually. He knows because he was deprived of them as a child, because he tries to use them as often as he can so Alistair never feels the way he felt. “I can most definitely do that.”

“Great,” you nod, fidgeting with the stem of the apple in front of you. “If he ever wants to do more math or puzzles or such, the library has lots of great resources for that as well. I also have lots of worksheets I could send home with him.”

“If I can tear him away from that book,” Maxwell chuckles. “Do you have any favorites? You mentioned you read a lot.”

“Oh, god,” you laugh, and Maxwell is enchanted by the sound. “There are too many options! My favorite book of all time would probably have to be the Great Gatsby. I love the classics.”

Maxwell’s smile turns bittersweet. Jay Gatsby’s life reminds him far too much of his own for comfort now. Before, he’d call himself a Gatsby in reference to lavish parties and living large. Now, he feels like Gatsby dead in the water. “Wonderful book,” he nods. “F. Scott Fitzgerald is a literary mastermind.”

“Do you read too?” You ask, intrigued. His personality shows more and more and you’re desperate for even more of it.

He shakes his head. “Not as much as Alistair, I’m afraid, but when I have the time.”

You grin. “My plans for tonight are to go home and read with some takeout. No one to disturb me or anything. I’m very much a homebody, so it’s usually just me and my gradebook and my houseplants. Takeout is the most excitement I get. I’m looking forward to working through this book though; I’m currently reading Wilde.”

“Ah, what book?”

“Picture of Dorian Gray,” you smile and look down at your tote bag with the book tucked into the side. “If I have any brainpower left. Most of these conferences are energy-suckers.”

“How many do you have left?” He asks, curious.

“You’re the last of the night, actually,” you chuckle and cross your arms on the desk, looking over at him and silently hoping he reads your interest.

“The night you have planned sounds lovely, I must say,” Maxwell chuckles. “I do love takeout, but I know of a wonderful place near here. I… we could go get dinner, if you’d like.”

Tilting your head to the side, you scrunch your nose to push your glasses back up. “That sounds wonderful, Max. It’s nice to converse with someone who isn’t 9 years old for a while. And someone so interesting,” you openly flirt now that you can tell he’s picking up on your messages.

“Me? Hardly,” he shakes his head and laughs. “I’m sure you have much more fascinating stories than me.”

“I am a third grade teacher, Max,” you laugh. “If you want stories that involve boogers, the ever-present cooties, and long division, I’m your gal, but it hardly extends past that.”

“I guess we’ll just have to find out. Do you like Italian food?”

“I love it,” you grin. “Does that mean wine?”

“Always,” Maxwell says in a mockingly offended voice, as if you’d even dare to ask such a thing, with a look of disgust.

“Thank fucking god,” you laugh before clapping a hand over your mouth. “Oh shit. Oh-“ you wince as you try to cover your curse with another curse. “Sorry. When school hours are out, I can’t hold back any longer.”

“No need to,” he assures you. “A woman like you could do whatever she wants and I’d be happy to just be in her presence.”

“Mr. Lorenzano,” you tease. “This is a parent-teacher conference!”

“Then let’s head to dinner and continue this in a nonprofessional capacity, shall we?” He asks, standing and pushing back his rolling chair.

“That sounds great,” you smile. Alistair’s father sure is something. Yes, you certainly like the Lorenzano family.

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years ago

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Bella Italia

Your Summer in Italy is definitely going to be one to remember....

Feat. Jim from the Delinquent Season

Request - Yes

Warning - smut (kinda from the offset...), age gap relationship

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @janelongxox @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @elenavampire21 @being-worthy @noctvrnalmoth

You've been working at the Sapienza University in Rome for the last 6 weeks, helping your father who was teaching a Summer School class over there. Originally from Dublin, you'd come to Italy for the summer with your parents initially for a vacation, but you got bored quickly and ended up helping with the admin side of things as an intern, whilst taking a summer class yourself in Piano. You'd had dreams of being a concert pianist since you started playing 13 years ago, your grandmother leaving her piano for you in her will when you were 7 years old. You'd fallen in love with it immediately.

All was going perfectly, except for one thing. Interns regularly worked in teams of 2, and you'd been paired with Jim. A Dublin man who despite being 10 years older than you, was the most attractive man you'd ever met, with the most exquisite ocean blue eyes and floppy brown hair.. he was simply perfect... And quite the distraction. You'd worked together for two weeks, and you knew he had a son - his wife had left him for someone else and taken their son back to Sligo where she was originally from, for reasons you didn't ask about, and he'd come out to Italy to get away from it all and take a semi sabbatical.

After three days, you'd shared a secret kiss in the small office you worked together in, after you both stayed late to help with paperwork. Your father was none the wiser, and he'd never find out - it was a holiday romance, that's all, and you were just having fun.

Which is exactly what you were doing sat on your desk at 7pm one Monday evening, under the pretence of 'working late', with Jim's fingers buried deep in your core, thrusting them in and out of you, curling them up perfectly to hit your g spot every time. His mouth took you to highs you'd never been to before. Your body was rocking against his hand, your orgasm building up quickly.

"Oh god... Oh god.... Oh god...." You moaned, as your back arched and you came hard over his hand, your hips bucking wildly.

Within seconds of your core exploding, he'd pulled down his jeans and entered you swiftly, lifting you off the table and pushing your body against the wall, thrusting upwards into you like a piston. Neither of you wanted romantic, you were both primal when you got together physically.

"That's it y/n... Good girl... Squeeze me... Fuck...." He was panting now, his pubic bone hitting your swollen clit eliciting a deep groan from your throat. The way you mained during sex turned him on no end, you could feel his cock twitching inside you.

"You gonna come Jim? You gonna fill me up?" His lips met your neck, biting and kissing lightly.. you'd need a scarf tomorrow..

"Fuck baby.. I'm gonna cum... You ready for this?" Your legs were tight round his back, nails scratching his shoulders as you felt him thrust hard into you and cum deep inside you, his thick release coating your walls. He panted into your neck, as both your bodies calmed. Pulling out of you and handing you a tissue to clean up, you both redressed and headed out the door like nothing had happened. Suddenly he grabbed your hand in the empty corridor and pulled you into him, stealing a long passionate kiss before pulling away and heading back to his room on campus. That was new.. normally he wasn't interested in anything once he'd had his end away, why did he kiss you?

Prior to coming to Italy, you'd only had sex with one guy who, frankly, never fulfilled your needs. Your sex drive was incredibly high, and he simply couldn't keep up with you. Your twice weekly trysts on a Monday and Thursday evening with Jim were proving to not be enough either, you found yourself wanting him daily, almost hourly...

"Hey, y/n, can I borrow you for a minute?" Jim asked the morning after your 'meeting' at your desk. You nodded, and he took you down the corridor towards a small janitors cupboard at the end. What the hell was he doing? He opened the door, pulled you inside and locked it behind him.

"Where did you get that key?" You asked.

"The janitor is easily bought..." He moved over to you - this was definitely new. The university was full of students and teachers, you'd never met up for sex on anything other than a Monday or Thursday evening when it was deserted...

Pressing his lips to yours you melted into it, tongues meshing together. His hands pulled your maxi dress up over your hips and sat you on a small filing cabinet in the corner. Kneeling in front of you, he pulled your underwear down your legs and kissed along your thighs. Another new thing... He'd never pleasured you this way but you weren't complaining.

His tongue licked up your open slit slowly, your hands were gripping his floppy brown hair as you groaned, bucking your hips upwards to meet his mouth.

"Fuck yes.. Jim..." He responded by taking your clit into his mouth, pulling on it. Two fingers entered you slowly, pulling forwards to find that spot inside guaranteed to make you flood him with your juices.

He started pushing his fingers in and out, picking up the pace as you panted above him. "You need to stay quiet... Can't have people hearing what I'm doing to you now, can we..." He moved back up, his fingers still buried knuckle deep inside you, as he placed his other hand over your mouth to stifle your moans. Pulling you slightly off the cabinet to an almost standing position, he leaned into your ear and began whispering, edging you closer.

"Ride my fingers... Make a mess for me baby..." He kept his hand as still as possible and allowed you to control the movements. You ground your hips in circles, and back and forth, aiming it perfectly so his fingers reached your g spot with each movement. His mouth was on your collarbone, groaning into it, knowing how much it turned you on when you could hear him. His hand was still over your mouth as your moans intensified, your orgasm edging closer. His lips next to your ear again.

"You gonna cum?" You nodded, and he panted in your ear, his moans sending you over the edge as you shuddered, coming undone over his hand. As you rode out your high, you heard him unzip his jeans and spin you around, bending you over the cabinet as he lined up behind you and thrust inside, bending over your back, the angle hitting your sensitive spot over and over hard. One hand was still over your mouth, the other pulling your hair as he pounded you. Your legs were shaking as you felt his cock twitch inside you, and moments later he came, filling you and sending you over the edge again.

Pulling out, he lifted your body back to his, facing him again now as he kissed you deeply, confusing you even further. The kiss felt more passionate and loving than normal, his lips lingered and he ran his hands softly through your hair.

"Jim...?" You asked, cautiously. "Jim what's going on?"

"Nothing, just needed to feel you.. you okay?" His eyes met yours, and he tapped your nose against his.

"I'm fine..." You lied. You weren't fine. You were falling for him, but you'd always assumed you were just a fuck - now something felt like it was shifting but you weren't prepared to get your hopes up on a man who was 10years older than you with a child back home. He kissed you again, and pulled his clothes back on, before a quick glance back and a smile, and he was out the door. You didn't see him again for the rest of the day.

The following morning, you came to work with a slight spring to your step, only to find your father in your office with a young lady you'd not met before.

"Y/n, this is Kate, she'll be working with you from this morning." You raised an eyebrow, shocked.

"Oh... Hi... Erm... Where's Jim?" You asked, smiling politely at Kate.

"He flew back to Ireland last night - he and his wife are trying again apparently, isn't that amazing! Y/n, you okay?" Your heart sank and you felt sick. Your face must've turned a shade of white.

"Um... Yes... Sorry Dad, yes I'm fine.. can you give me a minute I think I've eaten something that hasn't agreed with me.. sorry Kate I'll be right back..." You ran to the toilets down the corridor and locked yourself in a cubicle before throwing up violently. Sinking back against the door, you couldn't stop the tears. You knew he was married, but he said they'd separated, there was no chance of reconciliation after she'd cheated on him... And yet here you were, clearly having been lied to and used.

You pulled yourself off the floor and cleaned yourself up, before heading back out. Swallowing down any feelings you thought you had for Jim, and replacing them with hate and anger.

Good riddance.

#jim delinquent season x y/n #cillian smut #cillian x reader #cillian x smut #cillian murphy x reader

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letsperaltiago · 4 years ago

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even in a crowded room, it's just me and you

Summary: Jake and Amy spend their date night staking out a nightclub in Brooklyn. It's safe to say that it doesn't go exactly as planned.

Rating: T-M ish (for now 😌)

Words: 10.3 k (welp)

Read on AO3 here

Pink, blue, green, yellow, purple. Every color imaginable cuts through the dark venue like a knife, quick strokes of light appearing only to disappear just as fast, to the beat of loud techno music that definitely doesn’t strike a chord with the two young detectives, Jake Peralta and Amy Santiago.

See, they’re not exactly here to party - there are so many other places, places that aren’t Club Enzo, they’d much rather pay a visit on a Friday night - but rather to work. They’re here to stake out the location and hopefully gather evidence that can put their perp, Axel Manson, in jail for handling and dealing a new drug called ‘Kandy’ - yes, with a ‘k’. Very creative.

It isn’t exactly the date night they’d planned but Holt really needed their help and at least they’re spending time together - plus, there was no way Amy would ever deny their captain her help. The second the captain’s name flashed up on her phone screen, Jake knew date night was about to take a turn.

Having just arrived at the nightclub and watching Amy shrug off her coat to give it to the cloakroom staff, thus introducing him to her undercover outfit, he doesn’t mind the sudden change of plans. Not one bit. Sure, the instant he’d met her outside the club and could see her bare legs, he knew she wasn’t exactly wearing a pantsuit or her usual jeans. Although her coat was hiding everything down to her knee and he didn’t know what to expect. It’s safe to say that he in no way, shape or form expected this.

A dress, not too short but without a doubt short enough to make him do a double-take, clings to her body molding all the right places (which is everywhere, if you ask him) and, to top it off, it’s red. A deep, burgundy red that has him biting his lip to keep his jaw from falling to the sticky floor. Being the talented detective that she is (plus, Jake is shamefully bad at hiding his excitement) Amy notices the response, and in the darkness of the street, there’s no hiding the blood that immediately rushes to the apples of cheeks.

“Looking much, Peralta?” Even if he’s the one to make her blush, he’s still the one who’s dropped his jaw on the cold pavement and there’s no way she’s letting him off the hook. A few months ago she would’ve swept gazes or subtle compliments under the carpet, rationalizing by telling herself that he was dozing off, not minding what he was doing, or simply being friendly. Although things have since then changed. Now Amy knows for sure that he likes her, thus doesn’t have to shrug his actions off with stupid excuses to protect her hopes and feelings, and can allow herself to act on his advances. A dynamic that’s been there since the day they met but has blossomed into honest to good flirting. Butterflies take over her belly every time she catches him looking at her, but She collects herself and her cloakroom number.

“Was I that obvious?” He grins much like a kid getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar but is quick to recover because this is good - they are good - and he doesn’t have to worry about loving the way his girlfriend looks. Especially when she’s got her back turned and grants him a view that has him questioning his professionalism.

“Yes.” In the meantime, she’s turned on her high heels and it all happens so fast, so smoothly and Bond-like. It offers Jake no chance of keeping up with her which means it’s safe to say he’s surprised, very pleasantly so, when she closes the gap between the two of them to help him unbutton his coat. His nice coat, she notices, compliments a sleek, navy blue button-up shirt that comes into view once enough coat buttons have been popped open by her nimble fingers. Having already dropped his jaw in the street outside and never fully recovered, there’s no way he can allow himself to do it again. Although a small hitch in his breathing does make an appearance and outs him. The sight of his girlfriend focusing on opening his coat for him as if it were part of their mission will do that to him. She’s too good, he thinks.

Finally, she gets to the last button without her eyes straying, not once. Looking into his eyes as she pushes the coat - the first layer of more to come, later, he hopes - off of him, another hitch, one that travels through his entire body, shakes him to the core. Brown eyes and lipstick coated lips smirk at him, up through her dark lashes, because she knows he’s obsessed and she’s about to leave him hanging in that moment, all by himself. “You good?”

“Uh- uhuh.” Jake swallows loudly, unable to speak. Five seconds later he’s proven right: she spins on her heels, away from him to hand his coat to the cloakroom staff, and creates yet another torturous distance between them.

Jake is equally frustrated and thankful - frustrated because she should never be allowed to look at him like that and then turn away as if nothing happened; thankful because it gives him the time to reassemble himself.

Amy stoves their cloakroom tickets away into her little clutch and then, for the first time, gets a good look at her boyfriend’s full attire. God, she loves it when he’s cleaned and dressed up nicely. He’s freshly shaved, hair is washed and as wavy as the length will allow, and has it paired with his nicest button-up shirt and black trousers. There’s no doubt, in her or anyone else in that club’s mind: Jake Peralta cleans up more than just nicely (when he wants to).

“This is giving me mad James Bond and Maxi Pads-vibes.” He’s the first to break the momentary silence between them, thumping bass in the background, and it’s as if it brings them back in the zone. Not a very sexy remark but definitely funny and, work-wise, probably pretty smart.

“Shut up,” she chuckles immediately getting the reference, remembering Jake in his fancy three buttoned-tux and them tiptoeing around an abandoned building (and their feelings for each other) in an attempt to catch her nemesis, Minsk. As she hooks her arm with his, slightly leaning into him as they walk further into the club, lights, and loud noise, she wonders why she back then backed out of her initial plan to ask him to dance and used Gina’s grandmother as an out instead. Luckily, that’s in the past, and tonight, she has nothing to be afraid of or back out of. It’s them, him and her, against the world - or this loud club and Axel Manson, at the very least.

They walk into the dancing crowd, a sea of drunks, Amy comments making Jake laugh. After being bumped into multiple times, never being apologized to, they arrive at the bar where they’ll have to order anything but a tempting and delicious-looking cocktail. They should go out for cocktails someday, when they’re off the clock, Jake notes to himself as the woman next to him walks away with two enormous drinks while he on his part is left ordering sodas. Orange for him, a coke for Amy.

“Thanks.” As silly as it might seem the butterflies in Amy’s belly make a reappearance at the thought of Jake knowing exactly what to get her, without even asking her, and it reminds her, bittersweetly, of the past boyfriends who’ve thought they got her what she wanted only to end up serving her what they thought she wanted. In more mays than one, Jake constantly reminds her of exactly why she’s with him.

“I would’ve gotten you Orangina but this club has the decency of not serving poison to their guests.” Jake hides a smirk by taking a sip, knowing she won’t punch or shove him, risking his nice outfit being ruined. When it comes to joking and messing around, something they’ve been from day one and won’t ever change. they’re just kids, both of them, It’s an eternal dynamic that can’t be changed.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” She sips on her coke, leaving Jake hanging with a first-row experience of her lips perfectly enclosing the edge of the glass. “Anyways, what is the plan?”

Can’t she just tell him what the plan is? Sure, he could think of something but she’s already one step ahead of him, she always is, and has probably already thought of something brilliant - also she’s just that much hotter when she’s telling him what to do.

“I’m thinking…”

Thank God - his prayers have been heard. She picks up right where she left off.

“... We play it cool, act like regular guests. Then we can split up, hope that either Mason himself or one of his men seek one of us out to sell us drugs. That would be proof enough for us to take him down. Although, objectively speaking, there’s a higher chance of them approaching me since I’m-”

“Super hot?” Wow, he certainly hasn’t gotten any better at holding back his first thoughts, has he? Proud of it or not, the words are out in the open and have earned him an amused look in return. Amy featuring a crinkled nose, grinning lips, and, all in all looking, cute as ever. Cute and hot at the same time ’cause his girlfriend has range.

“I was gonna say “Since I’m a woman” but good to know where your head is at, Peralta. Very professional.”

There’s that voice again, the sultry one he can’t act casual around; the one that gets him all hot and bothered even during times like these where it’s rather inappropriate and not very HR-friendly. Clearly, she’s joking around, messing with him on purpose, and normally he’s okay with that but not tonight - not when she’s looking like this and talking to him like that. On a night like this, there’s an extra-fine and fragile line between professional or personal.

The shape of a smirk on her glowing face paired with the insanely gorgeous dress and her let-down hair? She must know what she’s doing to him, right? And while it isn’t her responsibility whether or not he can control himself, the evening has just barely begun and he’s already miserable. There won’t be a lot of solving crime on his part if this moment sets the tone for the night. Damn his smart, incredible, gorgeous girlfriend.

“If either of us makes contact with Manson, the goal is to lure him outside while the other calls for backup. If Manson is here then the rest of his gang surely must be here too, and the club will need to be ransacked. Sellers and buyers must be arrested. Our priority is to arrest Manson though. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Drink in hand, plan agreed upon, they dance their way into the big crowd. Even sober, trying to keep up with the rhythm of the music whilst balancing liquids isn’t nearly as easy as everyone around them makes it look. A few songs later, having gotten used to the crowd’s unpredictable swaying and their cups gradually being emptied, Jake and Amy get into it. They feel themselves being a part of the sea of drunks and, even sober, it’s pretty fun. It’s been a while since they’ve gone out just the two of them, and despite the fact that this isn’t their usual spot and they’re on the clock, the sentiment remains the same.

Amy has her own, very unique, dancing style, and Jake is very much aware of this. It’s safe to say he’s grown to love her dancing, finding it adorkable (Amy told him that it’s not a real word but he doesn’t care) and another good reason to think of her as the coolest human being alive. Amy is a pro at getting caught up in people’s opinions but when she’s dancing? She forgets everything around her and simply has fun. Tonight is no exception: Amy’s limbs are kicked, punched, thrown right and left to the beat, accidentally hitting a couple of guests who, luckily, are too drunk to care. It’s her very own form of art and Jake is her biggest fan.

“Dance with me!” She yells over the loud music, smile as wide as the Joker’s. She knows there’ll be missteps, she’ll fall out of the rhythm and eventually step on him. That hasn’t changed and probably never will. Although what has changed is the fact that now she doesn’t care. Now she’s confident in Jake’s feelings about her, knows that he finds her small missteps adorable, never annoying, and nothing she can do will push him away.

“Is that a work tactic of yours?” He speaks into her ear once he’s finally closed the gap between them and they’re moving in somewhat synchronization to the beat of a remix of a song that was better off in its original format.

“Sure.” A giggle fights its way through the obnoxiously heavy bass and Jake is very thankful. Every sound she makes equals a spectacular symphony. One that he doesn’t want to miss. “Makes us look more legit. Will keep out cover intact.”

“Wow, look at you throwing around slang, Santiago. So legit.”

His teasing grin deserves a playful punch to fight off his smartypants comments.

“But do you think Manson will approach us if we come off as a couple?”

“Who says we’re a couple?” She grins devilishly, leaning in close so that their noses a pressed together. “We’re drunk. We don’t know what we’re doing. We might as well be strangers.”

This time around she can’t hear it over the loud booming but his breath gets caught in his throat at the thought of Amy Santiago being his scandalous one-night stand. Of course, one night with Amy would never be enough for him but there’s something about this specific roleplay, undercover role, and the way she’s looking at him with luring dark eyes that has him fumbling into unprofessional land. Focus, Jake. He counts down from ten and Amy, oblivious to her boyfriend’s internal fight, pulls back, offering him a chance to collect himself. The bright lights illuminate her as she moves with a confidence that completely erases the dorkiness and leaves her looking like a goddess clad in red. Red as wine and all he wants to do is get drunk on her.

The couple falls into a comfortable rhythm of moving about the floor, somewhat dancing, as they keep an eye on the constantly switching crowd. In the back of their minds, they have a picture of Axel Manson keeping them alert. Hopefully, it’s enough for them to be able to recognize the criminal if he were to show himself.

“I wish we worked cases like this more often!” Jake yells, trying to make himself heard over the music. Even basically pressed up against Amy, hands on her waist, focused, she can’t make out what he says.

“What?” She yells back, leaning in further to listen as she tries to keep up the dancing, letting Jake’s hands lead her around the floor.

“I wish we worked cases like this more often!”

“Why?”

“You look really hot in that dress.” He emphasizes his point by stroking her hip, getting a good feel of the red fabric hugging her beautiful curves. Curves that under more intimate circumstances would have him explicitly worshipping her.

“Shut up, Peralta.” She rolls her eyes and tries to shake off his compliment, because, in reality, it does something dangerous to her. Dangerous and unsuitable under the given circumstances.

“You do! In anything you wear but tonight is like... Wow, my mind is extra blown, babe.”

She quickly pecks his lips in thanks, the light in her eyes enough for Jake to know that she appreciates his flirting - even when she tries to shrug it off.

To allow herself some space, she takes a step back and thus the dancing recommences. Her very own moves are throw up, do, left and right while Jake stands back and admires the goofiness unraveling before him. Fortunately, everyone around them is too hammered to care and he’s got the view all to himself. He sticks to doing the bare minimum to look like he’s dancing. Shufflin on the spot at best. This way he can surveil the club (and Amy).

“Incredible,” he cheers on, meaning it even though this kind of incredible isn’t for everyone. Although her moves indeed are questionable, Amy herself deserves every positive adjective in the dictionary. Wow, did he just make a grammar-based compliment? The Santiago-gene has really rubbed off on him, huh?

Everything is easy, like fun and games, or at least it is right up until some drunk idiot, tall and handsome, Jake will admit, accidentally stumbles into Amy. She’s a trooper though: shakes it off and keeps dancing as if nothing had happened. Instead of apologizing, said man apparently sees this as an opening, a prompt for him to act on, and smoothly allows his hand to travel across the sleek fabric hugging Amy’s hips which, upon noticing the touch, abruptly stops moving.

“Why’d’ya stop dancing, babe? You looked so good.” The strange’s voice is as sleazy as his rapprochement. Overall representing the kind of person no one deserves to be approached by. Drunk or not, Jake doesn’t care the least: this kind of behavior can’t be excused. No woman, or just person in general, should have to put up with this. Admittedly, the fact that the subject of this stranger’s idiocy is his girlfriend doesn’t make matters any better. From the feeling of his fists clenching, he can tell it makes it much worse.

“Excuse me?” Amy challenges the stranger, takes a step back, not even caring that she bumps into someone else in the process of doing so. Her priority is to make sure that the unwelcomed hands let go of her.

Then they both see it, both Jake and Amy, and like lightning coming from a clear sky, it takes them by surprise. It takes everything within them to not flinch or freeze in a way that’ll come off as suspicious, because this? This is without a doubt Axel Manson.

“No need to be prissy, babe. Take it as a compliment.”

Amy’s got her arms crossed in front of her chest and it’s clear as day, at least to Jake, that she’s in a standby position - a position where she isn’t fully sure of what her next move should be. On one hand, the perp’s moves are extremely inappropriate, especially with Jake around (even though he knows it’s a part of the job); on the other hand, she can’t act out and risk scaring Manson away. Now that he’s fallen right into their lap they need to figure out how to go about this in the smoothest way possible.

If they weren’t currently undercover, working a case that very much relies on being discreet and staying unnoticed, Jake would tell the prick to get lost. Instead, he has to take on a different role that he definitely hasn’t prepared for: the role of the random bystander that won’t intervene.

Amy still has her back turned to Jake, facing their perp, and unfolds her arms to instead put one behind her back. Firstly, it makes her look less defensive and closed off; secondly, it allows her to send Jake a signal with her fingers: a thumbs up. Jake notices and even though he wants nothing more than rid his girlfriend of this creep, Amy is now his partner and not his girlfriend. Now is not the time to act on emotions, instead, he has to go along with whatever she leads him into. He trusts that she’s thought of a playbook to follow and knows what she’s doing.

“Sorry, I was just... surprised, I guess,” she laughs off the momentary tension, at the very least tries to, praying that Manson won’t see right through this innocent, flirty act she’s about to put on for him.

“That’s alright, baby. I can take it - especially when you’re as beautiful as you are.”

Right amid people dancing and pushing their way through the crowd around them, Jake makes sure to stay at safe distance, hopefully staying out of the scene Amy and Manson have proceeded into. On his part, Manson has reached over to grab the hand of his newest catch and gives it a gallant kiss. Charming but not at all representative of his overall behavior, Amy thinks, meanwhile she acts as if the move truly impresses her. If it wasn’t for the fact that she had to stay in character for the sake of the bust, she would’ve told him off the second he bumped into her. Jake, feeling rather exclude but know it’s how it has to be, discreetly stays behind and watches the scene unfold. Sipping on orange, shuffling on the spot, acting as if some creep isn’t making a move on his girlfriend and colleague. An unpleasant feeling boils in his gut, but it’s not exactly jealousy - or so he tells himself because it’s his least favorite emotion and, more than anything else, he trusts Amy. There’s no reason for him to feel jealous. Amy is just doing her job and so she should.

… Although he does feel unquestionable mistrust towards the other man and the urge to push him off of her is even stronger. Scum like him don’t deserve even a second of attention from a woman as lovely as Amy - undercover persona or not.

“Wow, thank you. I sure don’t mind my view either.”

From a time preceding their current relationship and up till now, Jake has witnessed a bit of everything in terms of Amy’s flirting skills. Not that his own are any better but Amy’s can sometimes be… awkward and questionable. In reality, Amy Santiago is a natural but as soon as she’s consciously flirting, she gets all weird and fidgety about it. Her game is much stronger when she’s doing it unconsciously, going with the flow, like with him. As if they only know how to flirt with one another.

Yet here she is, completely nailing this coquettish act, and even though it should bother him Jake also feels… captivated. This bold and cutthroat side of Amy that usually only appears when it’s just the two of them, within the intimacy of their bedroom, is suddenly out in the open and luring in a stranger with so much ease. Amy Santiago is without a doubt the best detective slash genius.

Mason takes a step closer, smooth to a point where it’s embarrassingly obvious that he’s done this a lot, and puts a hand on her hip. It isn’t until he can taste fresh blood that Jake realizes he’s been biting his lip. Focus, Jake, he tells himself and joins the random group of dancing people next to him, hoping this will keep his cover intact while he can keep an eye on the situation. Hopefully, he hasn’t noticed him and Amy dancing together before bumping into them. Amy knows what she’s doing, he keeps repeating to himself, completely drowning out erratic beats, people singing off-key to some pop song, and other distracting sounds.

“What’s your name, gorgeous? And even more importantly, are you here with someone?” Manson’s dark eyes drill into hers with great, sleazy purpose. In all honesty, it throws her off a bit to be looked at like that by someone who’s not Jake, even worse a criminal. Concentration is key and Amy falls right back into the game with ease. On the outside nothing unusual is to be noted; on the inside, she fights to ignore the stranger’s strong fingers digging into the flesh of her hips as if she were his property.

“Cassidy, and no. I’m just here to… explore my options.” Amy gives him her best flirty smirk, personally hating the reaction it earns her but, professionally, happy to see him fall right into her sensuous trap.

“Well, Cassidy, I’m Axel and that sounds right about perfect to me. I also love to… explore.” He emphasizes his ulterior motive so obviously that it falls right under the category of an explicit plan.

It’s funny to see someone who couldn’t be leading a more different life from her own think they have something in common, Amy thinks. It sure helps the fake smile she currently has plastered on her face, even when Manson strokes her hip and causes the soft fabric to bunch up around her thigh, revealing more of her golden skin. That’s her cue - it’s go time. No more fooling around. With the hand behind her back she signals towards the club’s exit and prays that, in that very second, Jake happens to be looking her way right. Get him outside echoes in her mind and she hopes it does in Jake’s too.

What Amy doesn’t know is that Jake hasn’t left her out of sight for even a second. On the contrary, he’s quick to notice the signal and knows exactly what it means: things are about to start moving. His galloping pulse confirms it and he’s ready to follow them wherever they go.

“How lucky for both of us, Axel. Should we, you know, get out of here then?”

Amy feels like she’s in a movie, coming up with one smooth line followed by the next. Dropping line after line, spontaneous and mysterious, to a point where she almost can’t recognize herself. Although she can’t wait to bust this guy and be back with Jake, she does have to admit that it is very satisfying to see just how easy and indiscreet criminals are. It’s a fine line to walk.

“Nothing would make me happier, doll.” Axel promptly places an arm around Amy’s waist, a bit lower than expected and the move is as smug as Axel’s grin. A grin that only grows from the satisfaction of having his arm around a beautiful woman who, he thinks, will get him laid.

In the momentum of the turn they do, directing themselves towards the exit, Amy catches a glimpse of her boyfriend’s stare. There’s no begrudging his displeased demeanor, Amy thinks imagining if it were her in his place. There’s a lot of trust between the two, never any reason to feel jealous, but this kind of situation is different and (luckily) not circumstances any regular couple would ever encounter. There’s no room for jealousy - this is a matter of doing your job properly whilst also keeping your partner safe and unharmed. A partner which you more than just care for. Jake certainly has begun to entertain himself with the thought of love and this only enhances the pondering about his feelings for his co-detective.

They share a look of mutual understanding, brief but it’s there, and it puts Amy at ease to know that he’s got her back in these most trying times of their operation. Manson’s hand keeps sliding further and further down her waist, obviously and shamelessly yearning for her hip and ass as if it were his right, and if it wasn’t for the fact that it was a matter of making the bust or not, Amy would’ve smacked his hand. Alas, she lets it slide, plays the role of the infatuated prey, and doesn’t flinch under the foreign palm taking a handful hold of her dress and the flesh beneath it.

“Sarge?” Jake speaks into his phone, never letting Amy and Axel out of his sight. He can physically taste the disgust he’s feeling upon seeing his girlfriend be felt up but he’s putting his anger to good use. “Amy and I have found Manson. We’re currently luring him outside. Send back up and catch them the-”

Jake feels himself flinch at the sight of this criminal having his hands all over Amy while feeling more than just delighted by this conquest. Jake knows Manson has set himself up for great disappointment, but still, he can’t help it when the sight of Axel being a major creep has his word’s caught up in his throat.

“I- uh, yes, sorry. Just keeping an eye out for Amy. They’ll walk out onto Fulton Street. Meet us there with backup ASAP. Not sure if he’s armed or not so be careful. He’s got Amy with him.”

He hangs up the second he sees Axel and Amy make their way to the cloakroom. Needing to be sure of what to make her next move, without Axel noticing, Amy runs her hand up the perp’s strong arm, wardrobe number in between her index finger and middle finger.

“Just need to stop by the lady’s room and... “ She bites her bottom lip into a natural pause. “... get ready for whatever you and I are gonna do once we leave this place.”

She bats her long eyelashes at him. Past experiences with Jake have her trusting the simple but sultry move and its effect. It should work wonders. “Grab my coat for me, please? And perhaps I’m even lucky enough to find some candy in my pocket when I come back?” Cocked eyebrows suggest Manson read between the lines.

“What’d’ya mean, princess?”

During the course of her career, Amy’s seen a lot of perp bluff which means Mansons already steps behind her. Even with a hand on her hip and trying to play it off as confused, the detective doesn’t fall out of character. She needs proof.

“Oh please, Axel…” Amy grins before leaning in, lips almost grazing his ear. Lucky for her their perp can’t see how her legs are trembling from the adrenaline. “I know what you do around here. Share your candy with me and I’ll share mine with you. No one will know.” Her vixenish whisper echoes in her ears while her lips tease to touch the sensitive spot. Amy cocks an eyebrow playfully and there’s no way Axel can say no to that.

“Of course, babe. I’ll be right here waiting. Don’t be too long though.” Axel’s warm, alcohol-drenched breath hits her face when he pulls back and it takes every fiber in Amy’s body to not pull back from where the man is leaning in close, smirking like he’s got her figured out. “I’m getting impatient.”

“I’ll be quick.” She promises.

Even from a safe distance away, Jake’s glowering gaze certainly doesn’t miss how Amy seals the deal their perp and how he runs starving eyes up and down her body as she walks off. While Jake would prefer that it was him she was torturing like that, he also feels confident about this operation. It’s going to work, he’s sure. Then he’s going to need a lot of making up for how little he’s gotten to enjoy her company tonight.

Purposely brushing past Jake, discreetly bumping his shoulder, Amy makes her way to the bathroom.

One… Two… Three… Four… Five… Jake spins around on his heels and follows her into the bathroom, making sure to do so unnoticed by Axel.

“We’re in the clear,” Amy informs him when she sees Jake peep his head into the room.

“You’re brilliant, Ames!” Jake beams, stepping up to her and instantly earns himself a proud smile in return. Amy can’t help but notice how right it feels when he places his hands on her lower arms, almost as to make sure she’s safe and really there with him. Her warms skin feels so good in his hold and it hits him how much he needs her to be okay and… his. “You okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay. And I think he’s buying it, Jake! I tried to lure him into giving me some drugs. I will let you know if he does… Did you call Terry?”

Jake can tell she’s proud of herself and can do nothing but nod in agreement. So she should be. “Yes, backup should be here within a couple of minutes, ready to take him down when you exit the club. Also of course he’s buying it! That act you’re putting up? Impossible to resist.”

“You been thinking about that a lot, babe?”

They’re on the clock, Jake is aware, but she sends him a teasing wink (oh, she knows), and before he can even wrap his mind around just how turned on he is, she’s moved on as if nothing had happened. Moved on to apply lipstick in the reflection of the dirty bathroom mirror as if he wasn’t even there. The red tip of her lipstick traces her full lips oh so slowly, taunting him with every inch and curve, and it has very unprofessional, untasteful per se, scenarios flash before his eyes. The muffled sound of the bass is momentarily replaced by the remembrance filthy sounds. It all crowds his mind so fast, making remaining focused almost impossible, and if they hadn’t had a major drug lord waiting for them then he’d definitely taken advantage of how Amy was currently leaning against the sink, back turned to him, in an attempt to apply the lipstick as precisely as possible.

“Oh, Ames…” Though he really shouldn’t, he allows his hand to wander onto her hips, the ones he’d hated Axel so much for touching… Besides hating him for the obvious stuff, like being a criminal and whatnot. “You’re all I ever think about.”

Even with her hair let down, falling in raven waves and covering some of her exposed shoulder, neck, and arms, there’s little left to the imagination. As animalistic and primitive it might sound, Jake internally thanks Amy for her pick of dress, a spaghetti strap dress that shows off her strong upper body. Handling perps might just be the best workout. He does realize that he’s only making it worse, more agonizing, for himself to wait out their mission however he simply can’t help himself, and before he can bring himself to cease, his lips are attached to her shoulder blade… then back nape of her neck… then the other shoulder. Her skin tastes like a mixture of her vanilla body wash and the smoke-filled air of the club.

Their eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror, both smirking knowingly; they’re both fighting the urge to throw professionalism out the window and tear each other apart - right here, right now. How wonderful it would be to simply unhinge, give in to the vicious atmosphere of the club. Take each other home like a spontaneous hookup on a night out. Alas, right now is not the time for adulterated play pretend. Right now, even with his hands feeling dangerously good on her, closing in on the zipper running along her spine, their duty and urgent matter at hand is somehow stronger. With one last kiss to the skin of her neck and a shared look in the mirror, they wordlessly promise each other: later…

He offers her hip a squeeze and clears his throat. Smiling to show support.

“Let’s go get him.”

“Y-Yes. Let’s.”

After checking herself in the mirror one last time, she spins on her heels. Their eyes meet, outside of the mirror this time, and Amy feels confident walking out - Jake is right there behind her. Like always, he’s got her back.

“You look great!”

Having already exited the bathroom, Amy knows not to turn around, risking looking suspicious, but she can still smile to herself, and oh does she. Blush, a lot of it, as well. Luckily said blush simmers down and impossible to detect by the time she’s back with Axel. From the dance floor, Jake keeps an eye on their every move and it’s with great delight he notices Axel’s wallet falling from his pocket when the man shrugs on his coat. Having already put on her coat, Amy checks to see if her flirting worked and to her happy surprise, it did. In the depth of her pocket, her fingers come across a tiny, sealed plastic back containing a couple of tiny heart-shaped pills object: kandy.

Amy smiles to herself and Jake is quick to notice: she’s got the drugs and all the proof they need to take Manson down.

To the detective’s advantage, the pumping music drowns out the wallet’s fall and Amy is quick to latch onto Axel’s strong arm thus prompting him to lead her outside, into her trap. Coats hanging off of their frames, walking side by side, they make their way through the front door. Amy’s lungs hitch for the fresh air outside, nervously so, internally praying that reinforcement is waiting for them outside as to not be left alone with the shady criminal for longer than needed. One thing is being told they’ll be there: another thing is actually seeing the familiarly blue-clad reinforcement there waiting for you.

Click clack.

Her black heels hit the pavement, they have officially left the safety of the crowded club, and this fact, along with the absence of the blinking red and blue lights, triggers a certain nervousness in Amy. An uneasiness screaming that everything is at stake right now - the case as well as her own life - and that there’s no room for indiscretion.

It’s a well-known fact: Amy Santiago always brings her A-game. Although this specific mission demands even more detail-oriented and throughout thought decision-making on her part. One little misstep can cause a domino effect of danger and chaos, and she’s not about to topple over the first piece.

“Terry!”

On his part, Jake feels just as uneasy, if not even more, about the lack of backup. There’s a limit for how close he can stick to Amy and their perp; walking too close will only raise suspicion meanwhile walking too far behind could compromise the mission and, more importantly, Amy’s safety.

“Where are you guys? Amy and Manson have left the club. They’re making their way south on Fulton Street, and I don’t know for how long I can trail behind them before Mason grows suspicious.”

There’s an irritated undertone to Jake’s voice he simply can’t bite back - it’s not as if he’s trying to hide it - but his girlfriend is currently charming a dangerous criminal and no one but Manson himself knows where he’s taking her. If they get into a car this entire case will turn into a chase and ticking clock situation.

At this point, if Manson as much as hails a cab, Jake will have to do something. Step in, one way or the other, to free Amy from the situation or at least stall. There’s no way Jake is allowing a criminal to drag his girlfriend along as bait for a wild-goose chase. Alonge the thought is a hard pill to swallow. He always worries when she’s working a case; the second she’s out of sight a thousand horrible scenarios flash before his eyes because he can’t imagine a world without her. Amy is very much capable, he knows, and she doesn’t rely on him for anything, nor should she, but if he can keep her safe then he sure as hell will.

Then it happens. What he dreaded the most. Mason waves over a cab which immediately pulls over to park next to the couple.

A hundred feet or so keep Jake, and Manson and Amy apart. Step by step he gains speed, gains in on them, with fiery eyes glued to his girlfriend in hopes of some kind of signal from her. Manson gallantly opens the door to the cab for her. Polite for a criminal, Jake thinks to himself as his fists turn white from clenching.

Dutiful as ever, Amy she gets into the car. He catches a glimpse of her face and certainly isn’t met with what he had imagined; Amy’s shaking her head no at him, frowning and warning him with a harsh stare. Does she just expect him to keep his cool and step back from the situation? It feels very much like a punch to his gut. Can’t she see she’s in danger?

His feet never cease, on the contrary, they pick up the pace, completely disregarding Amy’s deterring signals. The car door smacks shut capturing Amy inside the cab but even then, through the dirty cab window, she’s very clearly telling him off. Her expression only becomes clearer with every step he takes.

Manson, still very much oblivious to the situation that’s about to be called into existence, makes his way around the cab and gets into the back with Amy. The sound of his door shutting behind him affects Jake the exact same way the sound of a gun going off would: adrenaline overrules his clear thinking and protocol for the given kind of situation is off the table. Protocol means nothing when a dangerous drug lord is about to drive away with your partner - partner slash girlfriend, that is. It doesn’t matter that she’s the NYPD’s best detective. All Jake sees is red and the following words come flying out without warning.

“Sir!”

He waves his arms in the air to hopefully catch Manson, or at least the cab driver’s, attention. Perfectly synchronized with Jake’s outburst, Amy’s eyes send him daggers but there’s nothing she can say or do… It’’ll blow their cover. So instead she sits back, acts as if she doesn’t know the lunatic who’s calling out for her date, and waits for the horror that is Jake Peralta’s improv skills.

“You forgot your wallet back at the club. They’re holding onto it for you. They uh- told me to run after you and let you know.” He’s out of breath from running up to the cab and leans against it as he tries to catch it. Jake has to admit that he deserves the prize for the worst cover story in the history of cover stories. All he can do is pray that their perp will believe it - even if it’s with an inch of mistrust.

“What?” Manson spits, halfway out the cab and sure as hell looking pissed - pissed like a man who’s getting momentarily cockblocked by a random stranger.

“Your wallet. Someone’s found it and I was sent to tell you.” Jake stutters from his position on the sidewalk. He can feel Amy glaring at him from her spot behind the window, begging him to look at her so she can let him know exactly what she’s thinking: idiot!

“You couldn’t have brought it with ya, ya moron?”

All night they’ve seen him in nothing but a good mood so it sure does intimidate Jake, just a tiny bit, to experience Manson growling and scowling like an agitated beast.

“I- uh, sorry. I’m just… super hammered. My brain is probably broken from all the vodkas and… orange drank and whatnot.”

Jake doesn’t even have to look at Amy to know that she’s rolling her eyes at him.

“Whatever.” Manson peeks into the cab. “I’ll be right back, darling.”

Amy smiles without saying a word, but the second Manson is out of sight she’s practically kicking down the cab door.

“What the hell, Jake?! What are you doing?”

During their few months of being together, he’s never seen her this mad. Not at him, not at anyone. Even the mattress incident has nothing on the pure acrimony she’s currently displaying. The red color of her dress suddenly carries a whole new symbolism.

“What do you mean? Ames, he was going to drive you off to God knows where!”

Why is she so angry when he’s just trying to protect her? His expression slowly starts to match hers and he doesn’t like this color on him - not one bit.

“Don’t Ames me! And I have my tracker and gun on me, plus backup is just around the corner!” She refuses to step down from her case and it’s as if they forget that Axel Mason will be back before long.

“You don’t know how far away backup is. Also, a tracker and gun won’t keep you safe against a man like Manson!”

It takes a clenching of his jaw to contain himself. Heavy breaths have him feel like an enraged bull, provoked by her red dress (even though technically bulls can’t see color - Amy told him so) and matching stubbornness - an attribute of hers he usually admires. Right now it’s hard to admire though. Even if he knows his girlfriend is very much capable of doing whatever she puts his mind to, he also knows he’d never forgive himself if she was to be harmed in any way, shape, or form; even worse if he’d done nothing to stop it. He’s read through Manson’s criminal record and knows what the man is capable of.

“So what? You’re running interference because you, the great Jake Peralta, need to keep me safe and be the one to save the day?”

She’s taken a few steps away from the cab to join Jake on the sidewalk. It’s not for the sake of keeping him company though. Oh no, her arms are very much crossed, body language very clearly cutting him off completely, and if it weren’t for the fact that they’re in the midst of quite a fight, Jake’s eyes would comment on how the crossing of her arms enhances her chest.

“It’s not like that, Amy. It’s not about being the best or saving the day.”

“Then what?” She barks and all at once everything around them seems to go silent. It definitely doesn’t ease the weight on the young man’s shoulder, the feeling he seems to be holding back for reasons unknown. How does he explain that he cares deeply for her, perhaps more than he’s ever cared about anyone before, without saying the three magic words? That would be too soon and most definitely the wrong time.

Still, with Amy Santiago looking at him like she currently is, eyes begging to understand but also filled with fury, he knows that he’s in the wrong and she, as so often, is right. He had no right to interfere. She had it under control and he let his personal fears overrule his professional rationality.

“I’m-” the words get stuck in his throat and he has to clear it to continue.

“I’m afraid of not doing enough. I know that you’re a total badass but it’s so hard for me to stand by and act like it’s all out of my hands, when my mind is telling me that I can do more and that I’d never be able to forgive myself if something were to happen to you. It’s hard to stay out of your way when I feel the way that I do about you - even if I know you’re fully capable.”

His nervous shuffling on the spot and adverting gaze cuts right through his previous angry demeanor, a much more insecure side of Jake shining through at perhaps the most inconvenient time. Amy wants to listen and discuss this with him, she truly does, because no matter how much she pisses her off, she also really likes him too.

Timing is damned, not on their side, and Manson is now once more walking out of the club as he lights a cigarette. Jake, back turned to the club, remains perfectly oblivious to the incoming confrontation.

On her part, Amy has a perfect view of her undercover admirer. “Shit.” It’s unclear and mumbled under her breath, enough for Jake to notice but without being able to see Manson, the detective remains confused. “We need to stall.” Manson makes his way towards them and an oh so familiar situation presents itself: they’ve got to think fast.

“Kiss me,” Amy commands through her teeth.

“What?”

“He’s back! We need to stall till the 99 gets here so I need you to shut up and kiss me. Now!”

To an uninformed Jake, this very sudden order profoundly confuses him. The very specific kind of confusion and disorientation reminds him a lot of that time Johnny and Dora staked out the park - he can almost feel the tree pressing up against his back and Amy’s lips on his - and the similarity of the situation will soon catch up with him.

Usually warm and kind but now burning and stressing brown irises glower at him and Jake knows: he needs to act now; trust her and whatever process her brain has mapped out. So he acts.

Like a whirlwind, he pulls her in by her dress’ soft fabric and shoves her up against the side of the cab, so hard that a thump can be heard. It’s a kiss that, in more than one way, takes her breath away. It’s warm, passionate, and quick but still deep enough to make her toes curl. In a perfect scenario, she would let Jake go on, deepen the kiss and take them where she wants to be, but an entire case is relying on her self-control.

��What are you doing, you perv?!”

She pushes him off of her, as dramatically as physically possible, and the anger in her eyes makes an encore.

Jake has never heard her scream with such high pitch and power, and it’s an understatement to say that it takes him a second to recollect himself - both because of the insanely hot kiss and the sudden scream fit.

“Hey! What is going on!?” Manson’s cigarette is long gone, adding itself to the collection of cigarette buds in the streets of Brooklyn. Too focused on hurrying back to the cab where his sidepiece of the evening seems to be in trouble, he fails to notice the exchange glances between the two detectives. Glances that confirm that this is is - their new plan. Like an actor walking onto her stage, Amy quickly switches from Amy to Cassidy.

“I wanted to smoke a cigarette while you were getting your wallet, but this freak forced himself onto me!” She makes sure to spew out the word freak, hoping it’ll cover up her true feelings for her partner.

Amy Santiago is unrecognizable, fully merged with her role as club girl Cassidy, and Jake can’t do anything but play along as they both embark on the craziness that is a very serious game of play pretend. Hopefully backup will make their way to them before Manson has the chance of reducing him to a pile of blood and bones.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you little shit?!” Their perp forces himself in-between the two, punching Jake in the shoulder, hard enough to have the smaller man trip backward. Only by a thread does Jake manage to stay on his feet.

A threatening that has Jake backing up against, so much that he eventually hits the wall behind him. Now he’s really begging for backup to arrive.

Yes, he does have his badge on him, hidden under his shirt, but flashing it could cause further hostility and threat to him and, of greater importance to him, Amy. Jake stares straight into the eyes of an enraged Alex Manson, scared but also mildly annoyed by the fact that this macho idiot feels such strong entitlement when it comes to Amy – a woman whom he’s known for approximately thirty minutes.

Not that there’s ever a good time to feel entitled to decide over a woman.

“We were just talking.” Hopelessly so, but still, Jake tries to reason with his opponent. Mason obviously caught them with their lips locked. All according to Amy this is the plan that will get them out of this disaster, safely and successfully, and, more than ever before, Jake really hopes she’s right.

“Talking? Do you think I’m blind!? I saw you making out against the cab, feeling her up with your filthy hands and lips!”

At this point Manson has a strong hand on Jake’s chest, keeping him captive against the wall with what feels like a promise to not only threaten but also hurt. A million thoughts race through Jake’s mind.

He’s not dying, not today, not when an idiot like Axel Manson thinks he can get away with miscellaneous criminal activity and treating women like garbage. Over his dead body, only metaphorically, of course, he thinks and bites the inside of his cheek.

Over Manson’s notably broad shoulder he manages to get a hold of Amy’s eyes. For the first time since he, to Amy’s great dismay, chose to confront Mason, Amy’s death stare is directed at their perp rather than him. Discreetly, making sure to not make any sudden moves and draw attention to herself, Amy reaches down for the hem of her dress skirt. Her eyes never drop from Manson’s figure, even as she gently lifts the skirt a bit, revealing the handgun she’s been carrying around - Mr. and Mrs. Smith-stylez.

By all means, even with his life is at stake, Jake takes a millisecond to notice just how fucking hot that is. If this is the last thing he sees before he goes then he won’t complain. If he does survive, then he’ll have to suggest that they buy her a nice garter for them to mess around with. He’s quickly snapped out of his fantasy when Manson pushes him harder into the wall.

“Did you hear what I said? Do you think I’m blind!?”

Jake’s floundering.

“It was- uh- an accident.”

The weight on Jake’s chest instantly increases even further, threatening to crush his bones (or so it feels). Then he sees Manson’s free arms being lifted from his side and prepared to throw what Jake guesses is the first punch.

“Don’t fuck with me, shithead. Me and a couple of friends from the club are in search of a new punchbag and right now you look like the perfect candidate…”

Jake knows he should be fearing for his life but all he pays attention to is the fact that their perp has practically just admitted to his gang being inside the club. Just as he’s about to flash a self-satisfied grin, the first punch collides with Jake’s chin.

Amy hears Jake groan out in pain, the gun ready to go, out of the corner of her eye, she sees a familiar blink of blue and red lights around the corner. Backup - she can safely reveal herself and help Jake.

“NYPD! Let go of him and put your hands in the air!”

In one swift motion, well-practiced and with ease, Amy has her gun pulled from her thigh holster and pressed into Manson’s back. The criminal freezes on the spot just as he’s about to throw another punch and allows Jake to free himself as three cop cars pull up to the scene and surround them. Amy doesn’t budge, continuously holding Manson at gunpoint. Her arms tremble from the rush. Still, she doesn’t cease until the sarge tells her to and two of her colleagues have Manson handcuffed.

“We’ve got him, Santiago.”

A heavy breath, one she’s held since Manson forced Jake up against the wall, is set free from her lungs. Newfound calmness and satisfaction rush through her veins.

After carefully securing her gun and putting it back in its holster, slowly coming down from the adrenaline-driven high, the thought of Jake and the punch he just took floods her mind. Adrenaline and anger fully clouded her mind but now that she can think somewhat clearly again, worry takes possession of her entire body. It’s as if her legs, without her brain having to order them to, instinctually take her to where Jake is being taken care of by Terry and a first aid kit.

“Jake! Are you okay?”

He barely has the time to turn around. Amid his turn, she throws herself at him, arms around his neck and if Terry hadn’t been right there, holding the bloody cloth that’s been drying Jake’s bloody nose, she would’ve kissed him to the moon and back,

“Uhmpf-“

Her hug punches the air out of him, and he should care (with being punched and crushed and whatnot) but he doesn’t, because it’s her and all he wants is for her to be okay. He recovers from the hug attack right away and naturally his arms come to wrap her up. The pounding ache in his lower face, nose, and lips, swollen and slightly bloody, somehow melts away under her touch. Technically, that doesn’t make sense but that’s what he does to her. A loud pounding reappears, this time coming from his heart rather than his head and he knows he’s alive and back with his favorite person - the most badass person he knows, too.

“I’m okay, Ames.” A pleasant mixture of her lavender shampoo and the feeling of her soft skin (she always brags about moisturizing) lets him know he’s back in his safe house and for a second he closes his eyes, lets himself slip into a momentary trance where no one or nothing can touch him. Neither of them knows for how long they stand there, simply holding each other in silence but eventually, the sarge clears his throat, obviously feeling like the odd one out during this happy reunion.

“Amy, you and I will head back to the 99 with Manson for your debriefing. Jake, I’ll have officer Wilson drive you to the hospital for a checkup and debrief you there.”

The couple quickly pulls apart, brutally pulled back to earth, and realizes that there are other people, notably their boss, around.

The night is far from over. More than anything else, Amy wants to be the one to take Jake to the hospital, hold his hand while they wait for the final verdict, but she also knows better than to make professional demands based on personal needs. She opts for a simple “Of course, sarge.” Jake as well.

To the couple’s relief, Terry sees right through them, smiles, and nods approvingly. Terry loves respecting HR-guidelines but, more than anything, Terry loves love.

“I’ll give you five.” He gives them both a pat on the shoulder, then he walks off to help with Manson who’s currently painting the dark Brooklyn night with a quite colorful chain of curses.

The blue and red light flash across Jake’s side profile, enhancing his bruised lip, as his eyes follow the Sarge. Amy watches him watch the scene unfold, and while she would’ve preferred no punches and bruises at all, it definitely doesn’t make undercover, dressed-up Jake look any less hot. She might even go as far as thinking it’s… extremely sexy.

“You’re an idiot.”

Her voice instantly catches his attention and him looking right at her only gives her a better view of the slightly split lip. So much for a solid plan, she thinks and cups his cheek in her hand as to inspect him.

He winces a bit but never refrains.

“I know.” The sigh is one of defeat.

Amy is quick to catch on a runs her thumb across his cheek in a soothing pattern. “But at least we got him,” she comforts.

“Yeah, but you were right. I was being reckless and impatient. I should’ve stayed back and let you handle it... Like I know you can. I’m sorry if it came off as me not trusting you or whatever. It wasn’t my intention to compromise you or the mission.”

“I know…” Carefully to not hurt him her hand slides off his face to instead grabs his hands. “But I do appreciate you apologizing.”

“Of course. I was wrong and you were right. The Jake and Amy story.”

A warm, familiar chuckle is shared between the two, somehow resynchronizing them, because this really does feel like Jake and Amy – whatever story they’re currently writing.

“But there’s one thing I’m going to need you to apologize for, detective Santiago.”

A charming grin is enough to let Amy know he’s about to hit her with something for her to roll her beautiful brown eyes at. And he, on his part, can’t wait.

“Oh, and that is?”

“I’m going to need you to apologize for looking so fucking hot tonight.”

“Jake…” Blush instantly replace her normal skin tone. Even months into their relationship he still manages to do things to her that she can’t control. Especially looking like this, all dressed up, tussled hair and bruised face working in contrast.

“Like, even with Manson all up in my face, all I could think about was you in that red dress…” He runs his hand along the fabric hugging her hip. “And don’t even get me started on the thigh holster. I was so afraid that I’d die tonight and never get to peel it off of you.”

“Jake!” She skips forward and shuts him up by planting her hand across his mouth. “The officers or the sarge could hear us!”

“Ouch!”

“Oh my God, your lip! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine.” He winces once her hands fly off of him and free his sore lip. “I really should head to the hospital, huh?”

“Yeah, you really should. Are you going to be okay?”

“Totally.” Jake confirms, nodding his head yes. “See you at your place later? I’m sure the hospital will let me go home tonight.”

“Sounds like a plan.” She nods, trailing off but then the opportunity for a clever comment presents itself and she can’t resist. “If you can you stick to it this time?”

A teasing glimmer in her eyes and cocky smile lets him know just how proud she is of her own comeback.

“You got me, babe. But yes, promise I will stick to the plan this time. I’ve learned from my mistakes.”

“Good...” Without further prompting his girlfriend leans in close, close enough for her breath to tickle her ear, and drops a bomb that’s been threatening to explode since they first walked into the club.

“... And if you can’t then I’ll have to teach you a lesson, detective Peralta.”

Oh, how the hospital better let him go home tonight.

#idk how i feel about the final result but *throws bone* here ya go #club fic #i literally dont know how undercover cases work so dont be too hard on me #jake and amy #peraltiago #jake x amy #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #jake peralta #amy santiago #undercover #fluff

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thehangeddemon · 3 years ago

Text

Waiting for Tonight, Part I || AU || Master Maxi

Maximus: Maximus leaned over the bar, looking for a bar rag he could snag to wipe his hands. His black shirt a casualty of a reckless dancer.

But what was on the other side of two chatting women in neon cocktail dresses was more intriguing. He lingered, hunched over the messy wood and steel bar hoping to catch the stranger's eyes.

Xavier: It would take precious little to draw the stranger's gaze. He was focused on everything and nothing, studying the interesting faces in the crowd, listening to snippets of conversation, feeling the pulse of the music.

And cutting through all that was the silent, distinct feeling of being observed in return.

He tore his gaze away from the dancers and almost immediately found what he sought. He grinned. Well then, wasn't that all kinds of interesting?

Immediately taken with the man watching him, Xavier nodded toward the seat next to him which had somehow managed to be empty.

Maximus: Caught, just as he wanted. His smile reached his eyes, honest but reserved. Shy, one might say, despite the atmosphere.

The stranger pointed to himself, cheeks tightening as his smile deepened. "Me?" he mouthed.

Xavier: Ah ha, not just a passing look. There seemed to be genuine interest there. Perfect.

Xavier nodded. "You," he mouthed back. "Drink?"

Maximus: His shirt was pinched and fanned. "I had a-" Cut off by the girls as the shifted about, finishing their drinks and disappearing into the crowd.

The gap between them was immediately closed, though eye contact diminished with his approach.

"I'd love a drink. Mine is all over me." A thick Louisiana lilt gently trimmed by years of service.

Xavier: The unexpected accent had Xavier smiling even more. It matched his admirer's voice beautifully.

"Yes, it is," he chuckled, flagging down the bartender. His own accent would probably be a surprise as well. There wasn't a hint of American in it at all; it was all English Northerner, tempered a bit by his time in this country. "What's your poison?"

Maximus: "My friends had me doing Jäger bombs, but I'd rather bourbon. What are you drinking?"

Xavier: "How's that for a coincidence, I've been drinking Manhattans."

Maximus: "Now that is a drink."

Xavier: "A very far cry from Jager bombs. Would you like one?"

Maximus: "Yes, please." Eye contact returned with another true smile. "I'm Maximus."

Xavier: He ordered them two Manhattans before turning the entirety of his attention back on his companion.

"Maximus. Very regal. I'm Xavier."

Maximus: "Says the kettle to the pot," he chuckled. This time, his chin ducked against the collar of his shirt, against his shoulder.

Xavier: "Any old person can be named Xavier. Maximus is the name of emperors."

Maximus: "My mother's Italian. That's the only explanation. Where does Xavier come from?"

Xavier: "Couldn't tell you. I suppose my mother saw or heard it somewhere and liked it."

Maximus: "I'd have to see you in better light to say if it suits you."

Xavier: Xavier chuckled. "I leave that judgement entirely up to you."

He nodded his thanks as the bartender placed their drinks in front of them.

"Your health," he toasted.

Maximus: "To yours." He smiled, watched him for a moment before taking his first sip.

"Will you dance with me?"

Xavier: “Why yes.” Xavier grinned at Maximus over the rim of his glass. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Maximus: "Can't both wait for the other. We'll never get anywhere." In that case, he would finish his drink in a few struggled sips and smooth his shirt.

Xavier: "Ah, but then how would we build anticipation?"

It was a shame to down this drink so quickly without savoring it, but Xavier had other things to savor. Better things, even.

The allure of seeing this man move was impossible to resist.

Maximus: "There are plenty means of anticipation. Asking someone to dance should not be one of them." It's how this man would dance, where his hands and eyes would travel, that mattered more.

Maximus offered his hand once the crowd began to thicken.

Xavier: Xavier just continued to smile as he took Maximus' hand and wove through the sea of bodies. "I appreciate a man who gets right to the point where it counts." Would he get right to the point in other, more intimate ways? Or were they his preferred method of building anticipation? Xavier couldn't wait to find out.

"Are you taking us directly to the center of the dancefloor?"

Maximus: "It's where I last saw my friends." But he had slowed, coming to a halt several feet away. He wanted this man to himself, but with the safety of numbers and nearness.

His smile, reserved though it was, illuminated his entirety. The multicolored stobe lights danced beside his freckles.

Xavier: "No offense to your friends, but I hope we don't find them any time soon." He would hate to have to share Maximus' attention.

And that glorious smile.

"You are absolutely stunning, you know that?"

Maximus: "You can't even see me." Maximus laughed. A fluttery sound. "But blue is your color."

Xavier: "I can see more than enough." He slowly began to move, enticing Maximus to follow.

"Is it? Always been told it's red."

Maximus: "Red? With your hair?" He inched himself closer. Just short from that beautiful chest. "Maybe. I'd have to see your eyes." He took a breath, swayed his hips. "Are you always so forward?"

Xavier: Xavier laughed. "It's not too on the ginger side." It just casually brushed it, like a passing acquaintance.

Those eyes, on the other hand, were positively cat-like in their intensity. Sunflowers floating in blue-green water and focused completely on the man in front of him. On his every movement, his every expression, his every...everything.

"Life is entirely too short to not tell a stunning man he's stunning."

Maximus: It would seem both men were doing an equal amount of intense study.

"Well, thank you. I don't think - I've never been called stunning in my life. To have the likes of you say it will carry me to the new year."

Xavier: "Then everyone who's ever laid eyes on you has done you wrong. Or they've been blind. One or the other."

Maximus: "I think you're a man with wanting." His laugh could hardly be carried through the thick crowd and thunderous music. Too nasally and modest. "But you make me feel good."

Xavier: "I'm a man who speaks nothing but the truth." Too much flattery? To some maybe. In his eyes, there could never be too much so long as it was sincere, and it most certainly was.

"That's my night made then," he said with a grin.

Maximus: He wanted to hear more of that voice, but getting much closer and he'd be cheek-to-cheek.

"Are you here with anyone?"

Xavier: Xavier shook his head. "No one. You? Anyone apart from your friends?"

Maximus: "If you're asking for a special someone, there is no special someone."

The song reached its climax. Hands in the air; lights like blinding beacons danced as frantically as the patrons, encouraging the chaos. Maximus pressed forward. An apology just as caught as his embarrassed laugh. Too many people and one particularly inconsiderate blond with no regard to personal space made for the best excuse.

Xavier: His grin was quick and bright and unabashed. "Lucky for me."

Xavier saw the woman heading their direction out of the corner of his eye, but was too busy watching Maximus move to pay her any mind. The erratic lighting did him absolutely no justice but god, he looked stunning in it.

Lost as he was in his musings and the music, there was no chance of keeping the woman from barreling into Maximus, only of catching him when he stumbled.

"Looks like I just got even luckier."

Maximus: His laugh was akin to a cough, just as shy as he retreated from Xavier's hold. This was what he wanted, but he couldn't help his overthoughtful nature.

"The good samaritan." Maybe...maybe he'd bring his arms to his dance partner's shoulders.

Xavier: And maybe his own would find their way to Maximus' waist. Not to wrap around--yet--just to rest there delicately.

"I suddenly have a lot to thank that woman for."

Maximus: "And you didn't have a dance partner?" A playful scoff.

Xavier: Xavier laughed. "Maybe I was holding out for the right one."

Maximus: "You're ticking every box."

Xavier: “I’m just happy to be here.”

Maximus: Oh no, even more people in an overcrowded dance floor. Seemed the only solution would be pressing into the handsome stranger.

Xavier: Well now, who were they to argue to obvious solutions? Xavier certainly wasn't going to. No, he was just going to tighten his hold a little bit under the pretext of dancing, grinning like a madman all the while.

"Thank god for crowds."

Maximus: "How much have you had to drink?" Asked from the man nose-to-nose with him, rolling his hips in time with the heavy bass, pressed firmly against his dance partner.

Xavier: “The Manhattan I had with you plus another earlier,” he said absently, more focused on the movement of Maximus’ body than anything.

Maximus: "So, you're not going to regret dancing with me tomorrow?"

Xavier: "I couldn't regret anything about you if I tried."

Maximus: He couldn't be any closer than he was now. All that remained were lips, and denial was almost as delicious as the innocent little brush of skin.

"Sorry," he lied, grinning.

Xavier: Xavier chuckled softly. “Think absolutely nothing of it,” he said, making no attempt to hide how intently he was staring at Maximus’ lips. “Definitely don’t do it again.”

Maximus: "Not for any reason?"

Xavier: “Well, I mean, if you’re really curious and really want to, who am I to stop you?”

Maximus: "I'm really very curious," he grinned.

Xavier: "Oh, then it would be terribly rude of me to get in the way of that," Xavier said with a matching grin. "Forget rude, it would be positively criminal."

Maximus: "Maybe we should wait one more dance. Just to say we tried."

Xavier: Xavier nodded sagely. "Yes, of course. It's very important to try."

Maximus: "Trying, right." There were people watching. Some gawking, some admiring, some disgusted. He didn't want to care tonight. Tomorrow he would, of course. But right now he wanted to live in a bubble.

Xavier: He felt the eyes but paid them absolutely no mind. He'd been getting those kinds of stares his entire life; he'd long ago learned to block them out. And tonight, he would do the same for this man he'd only just met.

Xavier would make himself a shield between them and the world outside the dancefloor, keeping the whole of his attention on Maximus and willing the song to end. It was taking Herculean effort not to lean in and kiss him.

Maximus: This was the most forward he'd ever been with a man, and he couldn't see him repeating this tomorrow night. He needed this. Medicine, he told himself, before another month of tireless and thankless work.

Another song. Some trance number with bass rattling his insides. Scrambling logic and caution into shambles.

Nose-to-nose once more, those lips so impossibly close. A kiss by any other name.

Xavier: The song had ended, never mind that another began. They could officially say that they'd tried.

And it had been a damn good try.

Only a whisper of a kiss at first. They were so close already that it was just the barest brushing of lips, testing the waters. Testing Maximus' comfort level.

Maximus: Fingers got lost in his dance partner's hair. His face was warm. He could blame it on alcohol, music, the heat of a hundred warm bodies and the pulse of bass in his chest. None of it was relevant except to conceal the act of his body pressing forward, head tilting to accommodate and offer his mouth. Xavier was bereft of the soft inhale, the tiniest noise from the back of Maximus' throat.

Xavier: Xavier's smile was blinding as his lips met Maximus' again. The anticipation had been fantastic but this was so much better. And now that he'd gotten a taste, he wanted more.

"Come on," he said, taking Maximus' hand and leading him off the dance floor.

Maximus: Xavier's hand was given a firm squeeze. Only a half-second of reluctance to move, before his feet obeyed him.

He didn't need to ask what would happen next, but the mere thought sent butterflies through his stomach.

Xavier: He squeezed back, silently trying to set Maximus' mind at ease. Despite the various scenarios running through Xavier's head, he didn't have anything too intense in mind. Not yet anyway.

He was just after a little bit more privacy. And where was the most private part of a club?

The roof.

Maximus: The night was gorgeous, despite the light pollution. He was surprised they'd been allowed through, and it made him wonder what influence this man had.

"I can still feel the music on my skin."

Xavier: When a person spent as much time in a place like this as Xavier did--and tipped as well as Xavier did--they earned certain privileges.

Access to the roof happened to be one of them.

"Really gets you in the chest, doesn't it?" Xavier said with a grin, pulling Maximus close again.

Maximus: "Are you real?" he laughed. Hands came to rest on Xavier's shoulders.

"Chest, stomach, throat. It's on my arms."

Xavier: "As far as I know." The music thumping below them wasn't slow in any sense of the phrase, but Xavier did nothing more than sway them gently. There was no frantic energy to keep pace with. There was no rush. There was only the night air and this rooftop.

Maximus: Something about his nearness and the bizarrely romantic circumstances had caused tremors beneath the surface. His entire body buzzed with anticipation of the unknown. His forehead pressed to Xavier's, and somehow even the city was silenced.

Xavier: Xavier smiled at Maximus and did away with the last bit of space between them. Up here there was no one to gawk or judge and he wanted to take advantage of every second.

"Can I kiss you again?" he whispered.

Maximus: The fact that he asked, when men before him simply took, he could appreciate his air of gentlemanliness.

But his answer would be given with his lips, pressing to him with warmth and eagerness.

Xavier: This close, Maximus would be able to feel the soft, pleased hum reverberate in Xavier's chest as he was held and gently kissed to within an inch of his life. Xavier felt like he was in Casablanca. Of all the gin joints in all the cities in all the world, he'd managed to walk into the exact right one and find Maximus.

He'd never felt luckier, and he wouldn't pull away until his lungs demanded air.

Maximus: The strain on his lungs was a delightful burn, but one which lost its luster almost immediately. Xavier clearly had stronger lungs; he endured for much longer because when would he see this man again? Probably never.

Maximus leaned away to lick his lips, laughed with a hint of embarrassment.

"You're a swimmer."

Xavier: Xavier laughed breathlessly. "Hardly. I like looking at the water more than being in it. You just taste that good."

Maximus: "There's a," he paused to lick his lips, "there's a metaphor here, I think, but I don't care right now."

Xavier: "Probably," he chuckled. "Regretting that dance?"

Maximus: "No, not regretting anything. You?"

Xavier: "Not even a little bit. You have no idea how glad I am that I came to this club tonight."

Maximus: This was not where he expected his evening to go. There were hopes and then there was standing on a club roof with a gorgeous stranger. "Show me," he said with a smile.

Xavier: Xavier smiled back. "Take a deep breath." Because it would be another long while before they came up for air again.

Maximus: Maximus made a show of a deep breath. Wide chest swelling forward by the display. A gentle, shy laugh followed.

Xavier: "Beautiful man," said Xavier, drawing Maximus into another heady, swaying kiss.

Maximus: His smile faded with the warmth of Xavier's lips. A sharp and unexpected sensation ascended his spine and tickled the back of his neck. He'd been called pet names before, but beautiful had not been among them.

A shy, gentle tongue was offered for the taking.

Xavier: He swore he could almost sense the effect his words had on Maximus. That effect was satisfying enough on its own, but he didn't say it for the sake of flattery. He could do any number of things for the sake of flattery.

That Maximus was beautiful was simply a fact that Xavier couldn't help but express, just like he couldn't resist deepening their kiss to completely immerse himself in that intimate little taste of him. Did he taste as sweet as he looked? Was it just as addicting as the rest of him?

Maximus: The taste of cigarettes and alcohol. Of something sweet and cinnamon. Well blended with his cologne. A man with the rare common sense not to saturate his clothes. Xavier's nearness rewarded with just than warmth and lips and tongue.

Despite the rush to this moment, there was shyness. The subconscious press of his firm body pinged his awareness. Leaning away with a nervous laugh.

"Sorry."

Xavier: The cologne was the first thing Xavier noticed. Too often in places like this it was cheap perfumes and body sprays that dominated the close air, not subtle, enticing surprises like this. What he wouldn't give to just bury his face in Maximus' neck.

Ah, well. Missed opportunity.

"Don't be," he said, smiling despite his body screaming to pull Maximus close again. "I keep you under too long?"

Maximus: "I don't know what's too fast," he confessed. Fingers had curled into Xavier's shirt.

Xavier: Xavier's expression became gentle. "Does it feel too fast?"

Maximus: "Yes," he said carefully, "but I don't care."

Xavier: "Are you sure? We don't have to take it any further than this. I don't want you to feel pressured."

Maximus: Maximus decided to prove his confidence with action. Returned his lips with measured eagerness. Xavier's clothes were released long enough to wrap and rest his arms around his shoulders.

Xavier: Well that settled that then.

Xavier smiled against Maximus' lips, tempted to pick him up and carry him somewhere. Surely there was somewhere to sit up here so they could be a little more comfortable.

Fuck it, he was just going to wrap his arms around Maximus' waist and eliminate even the notion of any space between them. He wanted closeness and body heat and more of that cologne filling his head.

Maximus: Another thoughtless roll of his hips. He was aching. Surely Xavier would feel what he had caused. This passing fancy; he would be gone tomorrow. Leaving behind a memory until the next interested passerby. That was the purpose of these nights. No one he knew wanted love; no one believed in its obtainability. So, Maximus played along. Fingers combed their way through silk hair. Attention given to his roofmate's bottom lip.

Xavier: This close, there was no way Xavier wouldn't feel the effect he was having on Maximus and there was no way Maximus wouldn't feel how he was doing the same. Xavier groaned, just barely resisted the urge to grind against him.

His hands started to slip lower, itching to touch more of Maximus but moving slowly just in case he was stopped, to ask permission.

Maximus: The simple movement was mirrored, a soft little gasp escaping between his lips and he almost apologized for the noise. No, he wouldn't stop him. He was waiting to see how far Xavier would explore.

Xavier: Xavier had never found himself wanting to consume a sound until he heard that sweet gasp, and immediately hungered for more. He only hoped Maximus wouldn't feel compelled to quiet himself.

When his hands reached Maximus' hips, they gave a gentle experimental squeeze. They could either reach around to Maximus' ass or dip into the waistband of his jeans; the decision would be guided by Maximus' reaction.

Maximus: Hips that were particularly sensitive, muscles clenching were given attention. Eyes cast a concerning glance to the only door. Music too loud to catch his quickened breath. Vibration too heavy in their chests to catch four feet on the roof.

The answer Xavier sought was in the squeeze of his soft brown hair, the breath against his neck, the quiet nuzzle of encouragement.

Xavier: Unable to decide which option appealed more, Xavier did both. He let his hands slip beneath Maximus' waistband and squeezed Maximus' hips a second time, far more deliberately. Would he get as beautiful a sound as before?

What about when took a cheek in each hand? How would Maximus react then?

Maximus: Another shaken breath, breathed in and out against Xavier's skin. A man so deprived of touch to shake with their intimacy. He was embarrassing himself, he thought, but couldn't bring himself to speak.

Xavier: Embarrassment was the farthest thing from Xavier's mind. He suddenly had a ravenous need to touch Maximus absolutely everywhere that he could. His back, his sides, his abdomen, his chest. And he would, any and everywhere he could reach. The only things stopping him were the limitations of clothing and the lack of a place to lay Maximus out comfortably for a more thorough exploration.

Maximus: The words were leaving him before he could catch himself. Words he wished he could pluck from the air.

"This where we undress now?" He laughed nervously against Xavier's mouth, eyes as apologetic as the following kisses.

Xavier: No, no apology was necessary or required. Those kisses would be for the sheer pleasure of them.

"You have no idea how much I want to," he said with feeling, unable to resist trailing kisses down Maximus' neck. "Maybe we could go somewhere more private first. Anyone could walk up here." Besides, he didn't have the necessary items in case they wanted to take this beyond heavy petting.

Maximus: "I know what I want to do." Words braver than the first. The reason was simple. His suggestion was familiar. Dropping slowly to a single knee. Kissing over Xavier's stomach. Eyes watchful of his expression while fiddling with the zipper of his jeans, dipping his hand within for his release.

Xavier: "Oh yeah? And what's that?" It didn't dawn on him what Maximus intended to do until he was halfway down. "Woah, wait, are you sss--ahhhh...."

Xavier's expression flitted from confusion to surprise to pure bliss. This wasn't exactly what he'd been planning to suggest but it was just as good. His muscles tensed and his hips jerked, skin seemingly all the more sensitive for being clothed. Funny how that happened. It was like the body primed itself for touch and reacted immediately to the slightest bit.

But he still had a question to ask before he grew even more distracted. "You sure?"

Maximus: Maximus was momentarily frozen with admiration for his future endeavor. Licking his lips, eyes returned their gaze upward.

"You're... clean?" Better safe than sorry, but he hated the question. It was so awkward, and killed the flow of sex.

Xavier: As someone who'd asked that question many times before, if it ever did manage to kill the mood, the mood wasn't in the right spirit to begin with.

Xavier nodded and bent down to steal another kiss. "As a whistle. You?"

Maximus: "Promise." Maximus arched his back, taking another kiss the length of his slow fondling of the head. "Is this okay?"

Xavier: "Mmmm...mhmmm..." Xavier nodded, forced himself to take an even breath to attempt to settle his body. He wanted release as much as he wanted this to last. "Definitely. More than okay."

Maximus: His mind seemed to stutter a moment. Wanting back up just for more of those kisses, but there was something else he wanted and had already begun. So, he would give the tip a taste. Gaze steady as he licked down the length of Xavier's cock.

Xavier: Even breaths. Steady, even breaths.

Xavier looked down and nearly lost his senses completely as he watched himself be sampled. It was all he could do not to keep still. He ran his fingers through Maximus' hair, offering gentle encouragement.

Maximus: The way Xavier's chest heaved did something to him. Warmed him the way only new things could. The wild unknown of something gorgeous.

He closed his eyes, swallowed him down until his nose buried against hair and warm skin. What a perfect taste. A better assuage for his oral fixation than cigarettes and chewing gum. That little taste of precum stirred his insides. The smallest moan to be felt wholly over Xavier's cock.

Xavier: It would've been so much easier to hold himself together if he closed his eyes, or at least looked away, but Xavier just couldn't bring himself to do either. He couldn't deprive himself of the stunning sight at his feet.

There was a shaky inhale as he watched himself disappear into Maximus' mouth, followed immediately by a groan as he felt Maximus make contact with his skin again. The mere thought that he'd been taken completely was almost as heady as feeling and watching it happen, and he worried any movement from him would end it all prematurely.

He wanted Maximus to be the one to move and set the pace and explore. He wanted to be explored, to be tasted. He wanted to see exactly how crazy they could drive each other with just this.

Maximus: It was just skin, he told himself the first time. The taste of skin was nothing if not sweat or cologne on someone's neck. It was and it wasn't at all. It was sweet, he insisted. Sweet and smooth and sour and inviting. Taking this man, this stranger down his throat was like a religious experience. Sacrilegious and artful. One more. Again. His rhythm a well-choreographed dance from other eager nights drowned in alcohol and heavy bass.

He began to fondle, middle finger slowly inching towards that special place where pressure equaled bliss.

Xavier: There was no amount of steady breathing that could hold this off. Not long enough for him to commit every second and sensation to memory. He could feel Maximus' touch everywhere, feel heat and electricity and impatience everywhere.

He was concentrating so hard on trying to make this last that he didn't have enough to stop himself from letting that soft, almost pleading moan from leaving his throat, much less from letting out of the rush of them that followed.

"M-maximus...I c-can't--I'm gonna--"

Maximus: Years ago, his first encounter with a man in similar fashion had ended with considerable embarrassment. He'd leaned away too soon, stained his shirt and sullied his face. He could still remember the bellied laugh from his lover. It was the last time he ever saw him. A lesson which now forced him forward, swallowing bitter almond with empty thoughts. The chase was better than the catch, he told himself. The tail end of the evening and a goodbye as last words, if any.

Maximus leaned away after a moment, sure he had taken all Xavier had to offer. He could never think of what to say at this point. Instead he smiled awkwardly and licked his lips.

6:22 PM] Xavier: Xavier's hands never left Maximus' hair, burying in it to anchor himself to this plane of existence. His self-control had fled him in every possible way except to make sure he wasn't being too rough or pulling Maximus' hair. He didn't have the presence of mind for anything else.

Maximus and anyone who might be in the vicinity would hear every obscene sound of pleasure and barely restrained curse, see the way his chest heaved and hips stuttered and sated smile spread across his face. For a moment he forgot exactly where they were, mistaking the thump of the bass from the club below them for his heartbeat thundering in his chest.

Utterly spent, he leaned down to pull Maximus up into a kiss. He'd catch his breath later, it wasn't as important.

Maximus: Maximus was all but putty in Xavier's hands. Back arched as he inclined to his lover's whims. He sighed into his mouth and felt no sense of urgency to open his eyes.

But he should say something, he thought. Maybe, but nothing was coming to him. So, he remained there, bowed and silent, struck by present circumstance.

Xavier: His pulse slowly returned to normal but his breathing remained labored. He didn’t want to break their kiss for anything, only letting himself take quick breaths out of sheer necessity.

He ended up being the one who spoke first.

“Your turn.”

Maximus: A simple statement which left a rather dumbstruck look in Maximus' eyes. It hadn't occurred to him that he might receive his equal.

"I-I don't... I don't... need..."

Xavier: Xavier was helpless to stop the grin from spreading across his face, just as he was helpless to stop himself from leaning in for another lazy kiss.

"We can go somewhere with more privacy if you want. And more comfort. You deserve a bed when I devour you whole."

Maximus: "I don't, um, go 'home' with men. Although, you have me reevaluating my standards right now."

Maximus bit his lip and smiled. Despite everything, it was bashful; no one stared as long and as hard as this Xavier.

Xavier: "Praise indeed." Just one more kiss. He had to have one more. Shy was a good look on that beautiful face. "Would a nice hotel room work as a middle ground or does that sound too eager? Fuck it, I am eager."

Maximus: He almost hated himself for what he was about to say, but, "Maybe some other night? When I know you're not a cannibal." His smile was playful, albeit a little forced, worried he'd spoiled the evening.

"I want your number."

Xavier: Xavier's own remained friendly and easy. A request to pump the brakes a little bit wasn't going to spoil anything at all. He was just sorry to miss the chance to get to see more--so much more--of Maximus, and return the favor.

"You can have it. How about I take you to dinner? I know a great little seafood place not far from here."

Maximus: "You... wanna take me to dinner? Now?" His laugh was incredulous, just a little too poised.

"First time I've had that offer."

Xavier: "You've never had someone offer to take you out for dinner?" Xavier couldn't decide if he was appalled at every man in the city or grateful to be the first. Perhaps he was both.

"I would very much like to take you, whenever you want. Could be today, tomorrow, later this week. But I do want to take you."

Maximus: "Does this seem like the kind of place for formal offers?" There was a smile, but it bordered on defensive. So unexpected an offer, he couldn't seem to shake the red flag from in front of his face. No one ever wanted the day after.

"Um... sure. I mean - I mean if you want...to."

Xavier: Xavier thought he recognized that smile. It had an unmistakable hint of something he was certain had been directed at him in the past by other people, though he couldn't quite figure out the cause.

He nodded. "I want to. Do you want to go?" he asked gently, trying not to be pushy.

Maximus: Maximus considered a moment, took a step back he hadn't meant to. He recognized that stance, given by others, and felt awkward for having done so.

"Tomorrow, or later this week, you said?"

Xavier: He noticed the step but pretended not to. He couldn't entirely say he was surprised by it; he'd probably feel cautious too if he'd gotten asked to dinner when it didn't usually happen.

Xavier nodded again, offered a smile. "I did. You can set the date and dinner will be on me."

Maximus: The young man swallowed. He could still taste him on the back of his throat. Deliciously bitter.

"I have... Tuesday off."

Xavier: Xavier's smile grew. "Tuesday works just fine. Don't have any plans that day." And even if he had, he'd cancel them. Maximus was infinitely more appealing than just about anything Xavier could think of at the moment.

"Want to meet at the restaurant or want me to pick you up?"

Maximus: "Oh, uh. How - I'll meet you there. Do you like..." He suddenly couldn't think of food. Couldn't think much of anything outside of apprehension and lust. "...Italian?"

Xavier: Ordinarily Xavier would've told, not offered, a prospective date that he would pick them up and he would've done exactly that without a second thought. In this situation? That second thought was needed.

He wanted Maximus to feel safe and comfortable.

"I love everything Italian." From cars to food and everything in between. "Just tell me where and what time and I'll be there."

Maximus: It seemed Maximus thought that line was funny. A private joke that wasn't really a joke. Wanted to reveal his family history - what was obvious given his name.

"Okay, um... W-What about Graziosa?" Maybe a higher end restaurant might scare this flirtatious man away.

Xavier: That smile didn't budge a single inch. They were two for two on private jokes; if only this beautiful man knew that Xavier was moth to flame with anything higher end.

"Graziosa on Tuesday. It's a date." He debated for a moment on giving Maximus his business card since it had his phone number on it before deciding against it. A little mystery never hurt. "Got a pen?"

Maximus: Maximus felt at his clothes. Usually the answer was yes. "Not tonight. But I'll see you at... seven?" Would be a lot of effort on Xavier's part just to stand him up. He would dwell on that later.

Xavier: It was effort, yes, but Xavier's aims were far from the notion of standing Maximus up, or even getting another sexual encounter out of the deal. He wanted one, but that wasn't the only reason he wanted a date.

Xavier was intrigued by this man and he always followed his intrigue.

"Tuesday at seven," he repeated with a nod. "I'll be there."

Maximus: And now he couldn't pull the smile from his face. His eyes fell between them, ducking his chin to try and hide his dimples, the eagerness. He didn't want to appear desperate.

"Tuesday at seven," he echoed. Cleared his throat.

"Friends are probably... lookin' for me."

Xavier: “Yeah, they probably are,” said Xavier. More was the pity.

He was enjoying these stolen moments immensely, and even though they’d be seeing each other again soon, he didn’t want to part ways. He could only wonder if he sounded as reluctant to do so as he felt.

“I’m afraid I’ve been monopolizing you. I’d be sorry if I wasn’t enjoying you so much.”

Maximus: "Do you always talk like that? Like a book." Seemed they were both borrowing time. Anything for one last moment. He took a breath. "I really need to go."

Xavier: Xavier chuckled and nodded. "I guess I do. The perils of having an English accent: everything sounds like literature."

Oh, please don't go, he thought. I'm not ready to give you back yet. "I know. We'll see each other soon."

Maximus: He was losing points this way. Had to. What had been organic and sensual was becoming awkward and jaded by indulgence. His friends would call Tuesday a prank at any rate. 'Men like us don't date.'

Maximus forced himself around and back through the wedged emergency exit.

#Waiting for Tonight Part One #maximusfairchild

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scavengerfive · 5 years ago

Text

Good Enough

I actually signed up for the Abel Secret Santa exchange which was nerve-wracking. Writing fiction about people you know is a bit weird, I know, but it’s all in good fun. I even got Sam to proofread it for me, but between him and me, it’s likely things are still a bit rough. Nonetheless, here it is.

I hope it’s something, @puzzle-of-many-pieces. Thanks for putting all of this together, @runnerzero and @notforconsumption. It takes place in some obscure limbo of season 1. I’m used to writing quiet, stoic, or shy Fives, so when Lyric said they headcanoned Five as vocal, Five ended up coming out as quirky and weird which was fun.

Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays!

---

“Looking good, Runner Five.”

“There he goes again. It’s really unfair. How come I can never get Sam to flirt with me? It makes a man feel a bit insecure.”

“W-what? I-I’m not flirting… I was just–Five is making good time, and there are no zombs close enough to worry about. That’s all I meant.”

“Sure, it is. So, how come you didn’t say, ‘Looking good, runners’?” There are three of us out here, you know.”

“Well-I–I mean–I didn’t forget–I just… shut up, Simon.”

“Hey, you know the rules. Numbers only.”

“You!? You want to talk about rules?”

Jody’s muffled giggles were clear over the commlink, and you too snickered to yourself as Sam’s voice hit a new octave. Simon never failed to wind Sam up. You didn’t mind the banter. It was better than the oppressive silence of another ghost town or a chorus of the undead making their rounds. Like Sam said, there were no zombs in the immediate vicinity, so you couldn’t hear any eerie moaning filling the air.

You couldn’t see the other two runners anymore, but you trusted them to take care of themselves. You would all meet up soon enough anyways. For now, you scanned the signs of the buildings you passed. Each runner had specific items to collect, things the township was running low on, but there was enough leeway for you to snag anything you thought would be handy or appreciated.

You found yourself stepping into an old convenience store. It had clearly been ransacked quite a few times, but there were always things people overlooked. You bagged a few expired painkillers and batteries, along with twine and deodorant (which was definitely needed). Your eyes alighted on a box behind the counter, and with a small smile, you shoved it into your bag before roaming the aisles, snagging a few more supplies. You knocked some books into the bag along with magazines, paper, and pens.

“All right, guys. It’s time to head back home. You’ve got everything you need?” Sam asked.

The commlink was filled with affirmatives, and as you jogged back towards Abel, you were joined by Jody then Simon, the two runners falling to your side. You flashed a quick smile to each of them.

“So, how was your luck?” Simon asked, an easy smile on his lips.

Jody grimaced.

“I got most of my stuff, but it’s really hard to find a working radio nowadays,” she said. “Found a broken one. It should be good for parts.”

“Five?”

You adjusted the bag on your back, squinting into the setting sun. You thought you could see the radio tower in the distance even though you should be too far off to spot it yet. It was most likely wistful imaginings.

“Good. You?”

“Janine should be pleased. I got her those wire strippers she’s always asking for. Plus, a few things for the Doc.”

Your headset crackled to life, and you heard Sam’s voice over the commlink again.

“I’ve spotted a few zombs in your path, but they should shamble on before you guys reach them. Keep an eye out though.”

“Got it, Sam,” Simon and Jody said at the same time, and Jody added, “Thanks.”

The three of you ran in comfortable silence, each keeping an eye out for any nasty surprises lurking. Soon enough, you could actually see the tower this time, the red beacon switched on even though there was still enough light to see your surroundings.

“So…”

Your eyes drifted over to look at Simon who had a mischievous smile growing on his face. You felt mild trepidation at the sight, but it was swiftly overpowered by a familiar excitement. You and Simon were dangerous together because you were too easily caught up in his recklessness. So, you were not the least bit surprised when the next two words came out of his mouth.

“Race ya?”

“Wait, what? Guys!” Jody yelled as you booked it after Simon’s cackling form.

“Keep up, Runner 4!”

“Not again, guys,” Sam groaned in your ears, and you grinned.

—

“You’ve really been keeping yourself busy, Five. I think you have your name down for every supply run we have coming up for the next month. All that on top of your regular missions? If you keep this up, Maxine might mandate a break for you, and I would agree with her.”

You were rifling through the sports equipment as Sam worried in your ears, something you were used to by now. You supposed some of these compression sleeves you were examining would be useful and bagged them. Extra protection. Circulation efficiency. Whoo!

“I’m fine, Sam. I won’t overdo it.”

“If you say so… what are you looking for anyways?”

“Cricket bat.”

“Why?”

“Request.”

“Ah…”

You moved into the next aisle, coming across some fishing gear and archery equipment. There were no rods left (understandably), but there were some string and a few hooks. You knew Janine would be eager to get her hands on anything useful, so you were quick to fill your pockets, snagging the hooks through your bag’s straps to secure them. There was little else of note but two plastic bows, a few arrows, and other archery equipment like sights and guards, which surprised you. You would have expected people to have taken everything, but you supposed archery wasn’t the most common skill. A bow and quiver of arrows would be an unnecessary burden if someone didn’t know how to use them.

You picked up a bow and plucked the string in thought.

Cr-clash!

A stand collapsed to the ground, and a zombie in a tattered shirt stumbled over it. It still had a name tag hanging off the torn fabric. The undead employee shambled towards you, arms out, and a moan whistling through its rotting jaw.

“Five! Is that a zombie I hear? Tell me it isn’t.”

“It isn’t,” you lied as you stumbled back, hand reaching out for something. D-mnit, you didn’t bring your bat because you wanted your hands free. The store was supposed to be cleared. You turned in time to see another zombie on the other end of the aisle, blocking your escape. Its groans joined the first. “It’s two zombies.”

“Aw, man… it should have been empty. Can you run out of there?”

“Not really.”

Your fingers closed around a smooth, narrow shaft, and with little hesitation, you notched the arrow and aimed at the first zombie which was closest, elbow high. One of your eyes squeezed shut, and the head of the arrow buried itself in the zombies forehead with a solid thud. With no pause, you grabbed another arrow, swung around, and got the second zombie through the eye just as its hand brushed your arm.

When it crumbled to the ground like the first, you waited a moment longer, just in case, before you let your stance drop. Your breathing was loud in your ears, and as you sought to calm your heart back down, your ears tuned back into Sam’s frantic voice.

“–VE! Answer me, d-mnit! What’s going on?! Are you all right?”

You blinked and let out a shaky breath. Slumped against the wall, you said, “I’m fine, Sam. I took care of them.”

“Thank G-d,” he breathed. “Don’t go quiet on me like that again. Not like that. I was worried.”

“Sorry, Sam. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better.”

The twitching of the zombies’ bodies stilled, and you gingerly padded over to the first one, planting a shoe on its jaw. Wrapping a hand around the arrow, you yanked it out with a nauseating squelch. The tip was red and wet, but you figured you could wipe it down easily enough. You retrieved the second one similarly. Honestly, this wasn’t the first time you found yourself thankful since the outbreak for that summer at camp. Even you couldn’t miss with targets that close.

You left the shop minutes later with the cricket bat you had come for and some other useful supplies but not before snagging a thin book off one of the shelves that caught your eye.

“I’m heading back, Sam.”

“Good. You owe me a Curly Wurly for my troubles.”

“Fine.”

—

“Runner Five, I thought I had ordered you to be taken off the roster for at least a week,” Maxine’s disapproving voice said through your headset.

You grimaced from where you were hunkered down behind a low wall at the edge of someone’s old yard. Dirt was working its way under your nails as your fingers burrowed into the wilted grass. The sound of the undead surrounding your hiding spot was almost deafening. You needed Sam right now, not a lecture.

“Now’s not the best time, doc,” you hissed into your mic, peeking over the faded bricks before ducking back down.

“You wouldn’t be in this situation if you had listened to me.”

“That’s fair but still not the time.”

“Maxie!” You could hear Sam’s muffled yell through the headset. There was a scuffling sound before his voice became much clearer. “How many times–Runner Five! What the h-ll?! I was only gone for three minutes. How did you end up surrounded by–what is it? At least, thirty zombies! Five!”

“Luck?”

He sighed, and a strained smile flashed across your face. You were certain that was a sigh reserved only for you.

“You’re giving me grey hairs, Five. I’m gonna get you out of there, and then we’re gonna have words.”

“Get me out, and you can have a whole dictionary.”

“Right. To your left, there’s a break between those two houses, the blue and green one. Head for it. You won’t be able to avoid catching some of the zombies’ attention, but you should be able to lose most of them if you are quick. Go. Now!”

You sprang up and made a dash for the gap Sam had pointed out. From the way the groans got even louder behind you, you knew you had been spotted. No worry. You’d dealt with worse. Compared to what you and Sara usually got up to, this was a holiday.

“Five, things aren’t looking pretty anymore. Change of plans. Can you get into that house right there? The one with the broken window. Yes, that one. In you go. Yup! Be careful. Don’t cut yourself.”

Your shoes crunched over the broken glass on the tiled floor as you levered yourself down from the sill. You peered around, hands tight around the handle of the bat you had collected from a garage before getting trapped in the neighborhood. You couldn’t be certain that there were no zombies waiting out of sight, ready to jump you if you let your guard down.

“If you can go out the front door, that street is a bit more deserted. It won’t be for long, so be quick.”

Your feet were nearly silent as you made your way out of the kitchen and into the living room, the room dim and musty. Expected when there was no one to dust. The smell of decay hit your nose, and you startled at the sight of a body on the couch.

Swinging around, you had your bat at the ready. It took a moment to register that the body’s head was caved in and slumped into the cushions. It didn’t look fresh. The blood had dried into a dark stain with clumps of hair in it. Someone else had already taken care of the zombie–if it had been one. Humans still killed humans despite the apocalypse.

“I don’t see you on my cameras, Five. What’s taking you so long? Your way out is getting more crowded by the second.”

“There’s a body. Dead.”

“Dead dead or about to bite you and make you one of them dead?”

“…dead dead.”

“One less thing to worry about… what is it, Maxine?” You heard a muffled voice. “What do you mean Five is supposed to be off running duty? Their name was… Five? What did you do?”

“Runner Six was feeling sick, so I covered for her.”

“Five…”

Your eyes perused the shelves out of habit, looking for anything an Abel resident might like. Wait…

You pulled down a DVD case and popped open the cover.

“Woah…”

“What is it?”

You snapped it shut, the plastic making a dull clicking sound. Looking back at the shelves, you grinned.

“Nothing. I’m coming out.”

You ran out into the horde a moment later and trusted Sam to get you home but not before a few more things made their home in your bag.

—

The gates rose before you, and you pedaled hard to clear them, riding under the spray of bullets that mowed down the zombies that had been on your tail. Residents looked up as you came to a smooth stop, a wild grin on your face that only died a little when you saw Maxine waiting for you with her arms crossed.

You held up your hands and waited for the klaxon of the lowering gate to go quiet.

“I swear, this time, I meant to help out in the kitchen, but Janine asked for me personally. I couldn’t say no, could I?”

“You could have, and you will,” Maxine said. “The guards have been informed that you’re not allowed to leave Abel for the next week, so don’t expect anyone to raise the gates for you–even if your name is on the roster.”

“Aw… Maxine…”

“Five.”

“I’m an Abel runner and an able runner,” you said, grinning when Maxine groaned. “If I can run, shouldn’t I?”

“If you overdo it, you won’t be able to run when we need you to.”

She frowned when you snickered at her unintentional pun. You sobered up (sans a small pout) and nodded.

“Fine. Doctor’s orders are doctor’s orders,“ you ceded, climbing off the bike. "I’ll be by the clinic for my bite check in a second. I just need to drop some things off. Scout’s honour.”

“I’m certain you’ve never been a scout.”

“Fine… runner’s honour.”

“You have honour now?”

You mock gasped as you walked away then went in search of Runner 16. You figured the bike was too big to hide, and too many people had seen you ride in on it, so you might as well deliver it to the runner now. The back tire was a bit flat, but it got you home safely. You were certain the runner would be able to fix it up, no problem.

Now, Sixteen didn’t cry per se, but you were certain his eyes looked a little misty as you passed him the bike. You awkwardly waved off his effusive gratitude and made an escape to your room that barely had any space left in it, digging through your supply bag and tossing some things onto your bed, which was about the only free space left at this point. The more people trusted a runner, the less likely their bag was taken from them the moment they got back to Abel and all the supplies stored away.

You had managed to get about the last few things you were looking for before Maxine took you off rotation. There was more you could have gotten, but this should suffice. Thankfully, no one checked the rooms regularly, or you would have gotten in trouble by now. It was worth it though. This was the best way you knew to express what you didn’t know how to in words.

You took the rest of the mostly full bag and stepped out of the cramped room. On the wall next to your “door”, where you had first missed it, a small, hand-written note was stuck to the wood. You peeled it off. At closer inspection, you realized it was a flyer for this year’s holiday party, hosted by Jack and Eugene. You’ve heard stories about past ones. You were almost surprised Janine would allow it (if the men indeed asked her permission), but you also knew she knew the importance of keeping up morale. She would most definitely regret it by the end of the night though.

Tucking the slip of paper away into your pocket, you adjusted the bag on your shoulders and jogged out of the runners’ quarters. You made sure to drop off the rest of the collected supplies and made a quick detour to the comm shack to return your headset. Then, you went to the clinic where Maxine was waiting for you.

—

Despite your best efforts, you did not manage to sneak out of the township for a run again. It was a long shot, but you tried anyways. The guards, however, were not willing to risk Maxine’s wrath, not when she had reign over the good stuff, like aspirin and plasters, so you were stuck helping out around the township. You took a shift in the kitchen almost every day and volunteered to read to the children at the school where they were working their way through the Harry Potter series.

Around the township, you could see the oncoming holiday season due to the collective efforts of Abel’s residents. There were festive decorations, found or made, hung up on or tacked onto different buildings. There was even a tree in the quad, small but brightly decorated. Simon had brought it in.

You breathed into your hands, having forgotten to wear your threadbare gloves before you started making your way to the clinic to help Maxine. There had been an accident with one of the construction efforts. No one was killed, but there were a few injuries that Maxine needed a few extra hands on. You liked to be useful. Plus, you hoped, if you put yourself in the good graces of everyone, you might be forgiven if you got caught tonight.

—

It was moments like this you wished you had an operator in your ear, preferably Sam, but you knew he would talk you out of this or get you both caught. You wouldn’t want to get him in trouble. Plus, he would probably spill everything.

It was risky being out past curfew. The consequences were severe because Janine and the Major enforced them, but it was also the best time to act if you wanted your plan to be a success. The only downside was that you had to keep making trips back to your room because everything was too much to carry at once. Each dash back to the runners’ quarters increased your chances of getting caught, but it was unavoidable. You were surprised you made it this far anyways. The apocalypse had trained everyone to be light sleepers, and you found yourself blending into shadows more often than not when a groggy individual swung first, opened their eyes later.

“Hey! Who’s there? Joe!”

You threw yourself down behind a woodpile as torchlight shone where you were just moments ago. With your back pressed against the wood, splinters embedding themselves into the fabric of your coat, you held your breath.

“I didn’t see anything, Pete.”

“I was certain… never mind. No one would be stupid enough to be out here now anyways.”

You bet your -rse there’d be someone stupid enough. Case in point: you. You smothered your anxious snicker before you could give yourself away.

Waiting with bated breath for the light to move on, you still waited moments more before you risked moving. You had only one more delivery to make anyways, but it would certainly be the riskiest, which is why you saved it for last.

The wall of Janine’s farmhouse loomed over you, and you questioned your sanity once more. You must be insane for even considering breaking into Janine’s home, let alone actually doing it, but here you were, pushing open a window you had made sure was unlocked earlier when you visited to drop of some files. You weren’t going to try anything fancy like getting into her room. You were stupid, not suicidal. The counter should do.

When you got the window open wide enough, you bent down to pick up the items you placed on the ground after you managed not to drop them on your way over. You straightened up…

Click.

…only to be face to face with the barrel of a rifle.

Sh-t.

“Runner Five, I do hope you have authorization to be out past curfew. Though, where you would have gotten that authorization, I don’t know, since I’m the only one who can grant it.”

“…Happy Christmas?” you squeaked, holding up your gifts with a shaky smile.

—

It smelled like death. You were ready to die. Your muscles shook as you hefted another shovelful of semi-frozen sh-t to add to the growing pile of semi-frozen sh-t in the wheelbarrow before driving the shovel back into the earth.

Latrine duty. You supposed it could have been worse. Janine could have been shot you or exiled you, or worse, taken you off running duty permanently. You shuddered at the thought then scratched your nose through the handkerchief that did little to block out the smell. At least, it wasn’t as bad as it was in the summer when the rain made it all wet and the sun made it smell to high heaven. As winter settled in, it only really hit you when you were ankle deep in it. You just hoped you wouldn’t smell like sh-t at the party tonight.

The intercom announced that it was time for breakfast right when your stomach growled, and you shucked the shovel to the side, peeling off and folding the work gloves before placing them on the shelf. You pulled on the new gloves you had traded a screwdriver for because it was getting too for your old ones to do any good. You would come back after you’ve eaten. You’ve been working since sunrise and deserved a break.

As you walked through Abel, towards the kitchen, you took a moment to observe the residents moving about around you. You could see lil’ Molly, walking hand-in-hand with Ed, clutching her old bunny which now bore a red knit hat and scarf. The tot fussed with it then babbled excitedly at her dad. They passed by Runner 16 who was standing with his new bike, gesturing wildly as he spoke with a big smile to Runner Six who was clutching a blue notebook and pen.

You hid a smile and joined the food queue to wait for your ration, listening to the conversations around you.

“I just woke up and found a Cluedo box in my room. Unopened. Do you know how rare that is? I don’t know…”

“…a Bible. A little worn and marked up, but it’s not missing any pages. When I saw it, I just started crying…”

“…new boots and pants. I’m almost embarrassed to ask who knew I needed…”

“It was only a pack, but I had just about forgotten what gum tastes like. You want one? I have…”

“…loose tea. I can finally have a decent cuppa. Just because the world ended…”

“Five?”

Your head jerked up, and you realized you were at the front of the queue. Some people were giving you weird or impatient looks, but you just grabbed a tray and worked your way down the table. There was a rare offering of hot chocolate at the end, and you took a cup. You wondered how the kitchen got their hands on hot chocolate mix and smirked to yourself as you inhaled the rich scent in the steam.

“Five! Over here!”

Sam waved widely at you from his spot at a table, his smile big under a red tinged nose. An orange knit hat shoved his bangs down over his eyes, and he brushed them aside to beam at you as you walked over to where he was sitting with Jody and Simon. Jody was hunched over yarn and knitting needles, having chosen to brave the cold it seemed rather than wear gloves that would hinder her work, while Simon seemed intent on inhaling his meal with no room for coming up for air.

“Five!” Sam exclaimed as you sat across from him. He was clutching a DVD case to his chest. “You wouldn’t believe it! An actually copy of Toy Story. No one’s been able to find one since the outbreak. It’s unbelievable. When I went to the comms shack this morning to check the equipment, the case was just laying on my desk–along with a jar of Marmite and a bat. Can you believe it?”

“Yeah,” Simon said between mouthfuls (or rather, with a mouthful). “I found a football in my room. Don’t know how it got there. It certainly wasn’t there when I turned in.”

Jody flashed him a disgusted look at his lack of table manners before she beamed at you.

“It looks like Abel’s got itself a Secret Santa. They got me yarn and needles, wool, a strander… just about everything I needed to keep knitting.”

“And a bow and arrows,” Sam added. "Which is–majorly cool.”

“Yeah,” Jody said with a blush. “I guess they must have heard me on Radio Abel. It’s sweet. They even got me a book on how to make my own supplies.”

You saw Janine queue up with Sara over Sam’s shoulder. The two women were conversing, and when one looked at you, the other turned too. Janine had a glare that you would swear was not as harsh as usual while Sara cocked a brow at you. You could see she was carrying a familiar, hardcover book.

You tried not to wheeze. She knew, didn’t she?

“Did you get anything, Five?” Sam asked.

“Huh?” you gasped, looking back at him. “Oh… I got new socks and these gloves,” you said, holding up your hands and wiggling your fingers. “Warm and cozy.”

“Do you think they’ll come out?”

“Who?”

“The Secret Santa.”

“I think if they had wanted credit, they wouldn’t have gone through so much trouble to avoid getting found out,” you said, sipping your hot chocolate when Sam squinted at you.

“I just don’t get how they did it,” Jody said.

“They’ve got to be a runner. Or working with one,” said Simon.

“No, that’s obvious. I meant how they delivered everything. What about curfew?”

“Maybe they got permission from Janine or got a guard to help them.”

“Or maybe they just didn’t get caught,” Sam added, an amused smile on his face as he shot a look at you.

Hah! You sipped your hot chocolate aggressively and almost choked as it burned your throat. You didn’t need this type of irony or suspicion in your life right now.

“And thank G-d for the hot chocolate.”

“Are you all going to the party later? If I heard correctly, Jack and Eugene got their hands on some booze, and I, for one, am thirsty,” said Simon.

“When aren’t you?”

Simon shot a glare at Jody then you for snickering.

“I should be back from my run on time,” Jody said. “Are you still grounded, Five?”

“Haha… yes…” You huffed. “Which means I’ll be around for it at least.”

“I’ve got a shift at the clinic today, so I’m free tonight,” Simon said.

The intercom came to life over their heads, calling all runners on duty today to retrieve their headsets and report to the gates for briefing.

“That’s my cue as well,” Sam said as Jody packed away her knitting.

“See ya, guys,” Jody said.

The two took their empty trays with them as you and Simon bid them good luck. You turned your focus to the rest of your meal, wanting to eat it all before it got too cold.

“So, did you get permission from Janine?”

“For what?” you asked around a banger halfway in your mouth.

“To sneak around past curfew.”

“…I don’t know what you mean. Oh, look at the time, I have to get back to latrine duty. See ya, Simon.”

Smooth.

—

“And let us make a toast to the Secret Santa that brought a little more needed cheer to our dreary existence this year!”

“Jack!”

“What? It’s true.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to say it. To our very Secret Santa who we are all very thankful for.”

The room cheered while Jack bickered back at Eugene. Jody accepted a cup from Simon and shifted over to let him sit.

“So, when are we going to tell Five that pretty much everyone knows it was them?” Simon asked.

Ed, who was nearby, snorted, and the two runners chuckled. They could see you by the wall with Sam, the two of you watching Jack and Eugene drunkenly joke off. You were clearly trying to hide a smile in your sleeve.

“What did Five get you, Ed?” Jody asked.

“Some old driving games,” Ed said over his cup. “I missed playing them. And they got Molly a hat and scarf for her rabbit. She adores them.”

“I don’t think we should tell them,” Jody decided.

“Why is that?” Simon asked.

“They clearly went through so much trouble to keep it a secret. I don’t think they’d want the attention.”

They saw you look up when Sam leaned over to say something to you, and you started sputtering, gesturing wildly in what looked like denial.

“So, what? We say nothing?”

“I know, the idea is new to you,” Jody teased, grinning at Simon’s offense, “but yeah. We all know. That’s good enough. Let’s let them think they got away with it.”

“All right. Here’s to ‘Secret’ Santas,” Simon said, raising his cup.

“And oblivious Fives.”

"I’ll drink to that,” Ed said.

“Hear, hear,” crowed those around them.

Jody snickered when the commotion caught your attention from across the room, but she wasn’t too worried. You weren’t the most perceptive, but, at least, your heart was always in the right place. She figured that was good enough.

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trnhtm · 5 years ago

Text

Notes on Sims 4 environment design, mods and opinions

I’m still on my creative high believe me but i need to get this off my chest and might be a draft for an in-depth analysis of why we should just dump ts4 and push ea to make ts5 better for us

• Firstly, the pic is my maxis screenshot with a reshade preset that shan’t be reveal yet of my first mod to the game, a background replacement of the basegame, to bring my city into the game aka Ho Chi Minh City of Vietnam 🙆🏻‍♀️

• Secondly i found a mod that replace the city buildings and such for the game (to which was extremely hard to track down and the creator is MIA or retired) i imagine doing that must’ve been pretty crazy cause finding the buildings file for environments is pretty hard and also getting it to work properly too, kudos to whoever did that for us, love it to death

• Last point and this is a big one that would pull everything into a hot can of worms:

I recently found out that the original sims 4 wasn’t meant to be what it is today, which is a ‘lackluster cartoon version of sims 3’ smh.. It was, and i’ll keep it in bold, supposed to be an online multiplayer platform 🤡 the clownery, the irony, my god.

Its original name was Olympus and it’s still remain in the game codes til this day, and it’s the reason why there are multiplayer mods for ts4 that exist out in the world and it IS THE REASON why ts4 is this bad and lackluster and weird like how it still is today. I didn’t know until recently looking at the wiki pages and watching YouTube analysis/story on ts4 that i was made known of this fact. Now we have the sims free play and it’s nothing like ts4, and to be frank i dont want to know it, because we all know that is what Olympus was aimed to be but was released on the wrong engine and the wrong time.

2013-2014 and before that (i’d say 2010+ ish) is the prime time of online platform gaming, if you know, you know. EA though it could make something to compete and/or destroy the competition but what it did was ignoring their gamer audience. We are introverts that sit at home torturing our sims and build homes that we’d never able to afford. That’s what we are, most of the sims players dont wanna have a multiplayer time ‘socializing’ through our sims and flex on other people. Why did they think making a kid/young teenagers version of imvu is cute?? Bro c’mon, C’MONNNN 🤧 We are adults, young adults that wants to live out crazy scenarios and multiple timelines, okay? Like the game is 40-60$ and yall expect kids and teenagers to be your core demographics?

Be real for a sec, most players of the franchise technically grew up with the game, and most of them are adults now still enjoying the game albeit lackluster content. Coming back to the 2 points i said in the beginning and explaining with the Olympus argument:

Yall be damn out of your minds to say that ‘they make the game like this because they want it to rUn On LoW sPeC cOmPuTeRs’ i call bs. It was meant to be an online platform, so it was built much simpler to be able to load fast and not experiencing online lag while on multiplayer mode. Low spec computers? What about sims 3?? That bitch was colorwheeling openworld fully customizable since 2008?? People played it fine back then. What are you talking about?

When it was at pre-release days, Olympus faced so much backlashs from players that it was forced to switch to the damn ts4 basegame we eventually got back then, it had basically nothing to play with, no babies, because what? Because it was meant to be an online sims platform. The game was made very compact and pretty low poly imo, all the meshing was boiled down to 1 size fits everything. Which very much explains the reality of in-game environment being cardboard placements of scenes AND the reality of we might never get proper cars and openworld.

I truly hope they dont try to make another Olympus nor pushing this ‘online multiplayer’ narrative to us again, just dont, please. Make the sims great again, not worse, thank you.

Bonus Prediction time:

For ts4, on what i’ve seen thus far, i say we would get some content for elders, some more vacation map/or maybe a remote country side with rice fields for farming content. Chances of openworld and cars are low, i dont even wanna think about it. Hopefully some good scifi/city content because we dont got those enough tbh. Maybe a generations type pack, or hobbies, there arent much expansions that can be added to the game anymore i think

For ts5, highly doubt it’d be as vibrant or stylized like ts4. I’d say mildly stylized but not too cartoony, an upgraded sims medieval (mind you that game have better sims texture than ts4, tea) i hope they make the game not too alpha. We would get cars, openworld, colorwheel. Build wise i think it would be in the likes of paralives but not too too customizable because then the proportions would be very off.

And that’s probably it for today, it feels great that I finally got down to wrote this all out bc really it sucks to be in the arguments of ‘ts4 should add this, and add that, and of we never had cars,...’ it’s tiring, and to finally know that at its core the game was not supposed to be like this, does relieve me somewhat. I’m sure the people working at the sims team knows it and already biting their own heads for the hot mess they’ve created and now they have to deal with the mobs that always up on their neck everyday demanding for things that werent meant to be buildt in the game at the beginning. Cut them some slack really, and at this time they are doing their best to fill in all the gaps that ts4 lack and fixing all the bugs within the game. Pray for the sims 5 and hope that they wont do us wrong in the future, because we do feed them yknow.

Thanks for reading anyways, this was long af 🤕 i’ll write more soon, hopefully not on this subject again

#simblr #the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 #ts5 #sims rant #opinions

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crazy-little-cool-cat · 6 years ago

Text

Hand in Glove - Chapter 15 | Ben Hardy x OFC

A/N: This took a while but it’s finally here, yay!

Word count: ~3.1K

Warnings: Slight smut, lots of fluff, swearing like a sailor.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14

“What are you looking at over there?” Ben peeked over Annie’s shoulder at her phone.

“Pinterest.”

“Oh.” Ben rolled back to his spot on the bed, clearly disinterested.

“Clara told me to check it out when I talked about how bored I am,” Annie switched off her screen and put her phone on her bedside table. “All alone at home…” she traced her finger along Ben’s veiny arm. “With nothing to do.”

“Hmm.” Ben glanced sideways at her, a small smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“There’s a lot of really cool stuff on there.” Annie’s voice was dangerously low.

“Yeah?” Ben turned his head to face her, his eyes hooded.

“Mhm.” Annie nodded. “Lots of new things I want to try.”

“Like what?” Ben leaned closer to Annie, his breath ghosting over her face. Toying when the hem of the t-shirt she stole from him, he closed the gap between them, biting on her bottom lip before kissing her.

“Knitting.”

“That sounds…” Ben started pressing kisses down her neck and stopped. “Did you say knitting?”

“I did.”

“Knitting.”

“Yeah, you know.” Annie giggled. “Wool, needles. The whole shebang.”

“Um, alright.”

“I just want to make something for her.” Annie shrugged. “Might as well, right?”

###

“Ben, look at this!” Annie grabbed Ben’s arm to get his attention. “Look!”

“Annie, please,” Ben whined, “I’m absolutely shattered!”

Annie looked at her boyfriend and grimaced. His eyes were bloodshot red, with dark circles under them. He could barely keep them open. His blond, soft hair was sticking up in all directions, and he couldn’t stop yawning.

“I’m sorry…” Annie pouted and let go of his arm.

“Oh, don’t give me that look!” Ben groaned before his mouth opened in a big yawn.

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry.” Annie put her phone away and laid down.

She rolled over on her side. Ben instinctively cuddled up behind her. With one arm under his pillow and one over Annie, he sighed.

“Did you finish knitting that blanket, yet?” Ben mumbled into her hair, rubbing lazy shapes on her bump.

“No,” Annie whispered back, “it was all crooked. I hated it. I’m making some wall decor now.”

“Annie, it wasn’t crooked!” Ben chuckled. “I mean, not as bad as you think…”

“It was awful!”

“She would love it even if it was nothing but a string.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck and felt her take in a shaky breath. “Annie?”

“It’s just -” Annie quickly wiped tears away from her face.

“Oh, no, no…” Ben murmured and laced his fingers with Annie’s. “No tears. Please.”

“I just love you a lot, okay?”

###

Ben stood in the middle of the kitchen, running his hand through his hair. With closed eyes, he took in a deep breath. He spent the last two minutes trying to figure out where the plates went.

“Annabelle?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you organise the kitchen?” he hoped his voice sounded nonchalant.

“Yeah!” Annie called from the living room. “Doesn’t it make so much more sense now?”

Ben squeezed his lips between his index finger and his thumb.

“Plus, now I can reach things!”

“Annie,” Ben clenched his fists. “Where are the bloody plates?”

“Second cupboard to the left!”

“No,” Ben could hear his stomach growling, “no, they’re not there.”

“Yes they are.”

“Annabelle Lee.” Ben hissed through clenched teeth. “I’ve been here for much too long and I need food. Where the fuck are my plates?”

“Second bloody cupboard to the bloody left!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Ben muttered before he raised his voice. “They are not in the second fucking cupboard to the motherfucking left, Annabelle. The second goddamn cupboard is wide open. No plates.”

“First of all!” He could hear Annie approach. “Don’t you use that fucking language when you’re talking to me.”

“Annie, I’m absolutely famished -”

“Second of all, I meant the lower cupboard.” Annie walked around Ben and opened the right cupboard. “Ta-da! Plates!”

“Thank fucking God!”

“Fuck you, too, Ben!”

“Are you upset?”

“Why would I be?” Annie shrugged. “It’s not as if my boyfriend’s potty mouth was directed at me because he can’t control his temper when he’s hungry.”

“As soon as I get some grub in this belly,” Ben waved his spoon around as he spoke, “I’ll make it up to you.”

###

“What about this one?” Ben pointed, “do you like this one?”

“These prices are absolutely ridiculous!” Annie whisper-screamed at Ben as they trudged along Baby Depot, this time without Joe. “What a rip-off!”

“I thought you liked shopping.”

“I do!” Annie walked around yet another changing table, opening and closing little drawers and compartments, “but this? This is a bloody scam, is what it is!”

“You said it yourself, love.” Ben carefully read the label attached to the changing table, informing himself on all safety features and possible gimmicks included in the product, “baby stuff is expensive.”

“I can build this myself, for crying out loud!” Annie blushed slightly under Ben’s intense gaze. “What?”

“You used a hot glue gun and destroyed four pairs of my socks when you tried to make our daughter a puppet.”

“It was an honest mistake!”

“Four pairs, Annie.”

“It’s a learning curve!” Annie crossed her arms over her chest. “Plus, it’s a bit hard to maneuver around with a bloody watermelon attached to your midriff!”

“You need to stay out of Pinterest.”

“You need to not think you can tell me what to do.” Annie muttered and rolled her eyes.

“But Annie,” Ben patted the changing table, “do you like this one?”

“I think it’s cute and I love it.” Annie muttered.

“That’s all I wanted to know.”

###

Annie and Ben sat on the floor in their new house, after accepting the baby furniture delivery and having ordered in some lunch. The entire house was empty of furniture and they could hear the echo of their satisfied hums and moans as they bit into their food, smiling sheepishly at each other.

“You sure you want to stay here?” Ben set his now empty container aside and wiped his fingers on a napkin, “it’s okay if you don’t.”

“It’s fine, Ben.” Annie gently pushed Frankie’s head away. “We hardly ever get alone time together. I’d sit and watch paint dry with you.”

“Pregnancy made you soft.” Ben smirked and crawled on his hands and knees over to Annie’s side.

“Did it?”

“Oh, definitely.” Ben propped his knees up and crossed his legs, wrapping his arms around his knees. “I don’t hate it.”

“Duly noted.”

“Come on, I should get started.” Ben hopped up on his feet and helped Annie up.

“I’ll just take Frankie out to the garden and join you.” Annie hastily kissed his chest and walked off, whistling to the pup.

Ben watched her from behind the glass sliding door. A soft gust of wind blew Annie’s hair up and around her, and she shook her head to get it out of the way. Her long, flowy cobalt blue maxi dress billowed around and clung to her legs. She laughed as she watched Frankie trot around, sniffing every leaf and twig she could find. Frankie wagged her tail so hard, her entire body was swinging along with it. Her ears flopped up and down.

As much as he wanted to stay and admire Annie from afar, he wanted to get the furniture assembly out of the way as fast as he could. He walked up the stairs, glancing back over his shoulder.

###

Annie couldn’t help but wonder whether she will ever stop being endlessly horny. She couldn’t tell if it was a pregnancy side-effect or just Ben’s influence over her. It could very well have been a winning mix of both.

Ben’s biceps flexed as he worked. His jeans rode lower and lower on his hips as he kneeled on the floor. His brows were furrowed as he carefully read the instructions and muttered profanities when they didn’t seem to make any sense. His hair was messy from running his fingers through it. His tight fitting t-shirt clung to his body in all the right places. Annie was bewitched.

“Love, could you pass me that screw?” Ben twirled the screwdriver as if it was one of his drumsticks.

“Hm?” Annie shook her head lightly and blinked.

“Screw.” Ben kept twirling the screwdriver. “I need it.”

“You and I both.” Annie mumbled as she reached over and grabbed the twisty metal, grunting as she heaved herself up. A thought popped up in her head. She bit her bottom lip as she smiled mischievously. “You need a screw, Ben?”

Ben stopped moving altogether at the tone of her voice. The same tone that causes blood to rush from his head to his other head, as Annie so fondly referred to it sometimes. Annie walked around him, bending over slightly as her hand hovered over his. Ben instinctively outstretched his palm open and caught the screw when it fell.

“Thank you.” Ben looked up at Annie as she towered over him. She angled her body so her baby bump won’t get in between them as they stared each other down. “Actually, I might need another one.”

“Yeah?” Annie’s voice was raspy.

She looked at Ben through hooded eyes, her breath catching when his tongue poked out to lick his lips. Ben’s eyes stayed fixed on hers as he tossed the screw and screwdriver aside and snaked his hands under the hem of her dress. His fingers trailed up her legs and thighs, gently scratching and squeezing at her. Ben shuffled closer to Annie on his knees, tilting his head a bit as he sat back on his heels.

He hooked his fingers around the waistband of her panties and slid them down, painfully slow. He could hear Annie scoff impatiently and pressed a lingering kiss over her dress, right under her belly button. When she felt his fingers graze her ankles, she stepped out of her undergarment and followed it with her gaze as it slid aside on the hardwood floor.

Ben hiked her dress up with one hand and worked his way up the inside of her legs with the other, leaving trails of goosebumps as he climbed further up. Just when Annie reached down to lace her fingers through his hair, he ducked his head under the bunched up fabric and let it fall on his back. Gently nibbling at her thighs, he pushed her legs a little further apart, making room for himself.

Annie could feel his warm breath on her skin and shivered. She looked around her for something to hold on to but the walls were too far behind her and to the side, and the crib was definitely not stable yet. A light panic washed over her before she felt Ben’s tongue on her. With a loud gasp, she almost lunged forward as her knees buckled, but Ben quickly reached a hand up for her to grab and wrapped his arm around her, giving her butt a reassuring squeeze.

“Ben.” Ben’s lips and tongue worked her as if it was his life’s mission. Every gasp, every moan, every spasm of Annie’s thighs egged him on, making his cock impossibly harder. “Ben.”

“Mm?” he hummed, his lips sucking at her clit.

“Are you going to get that screw or not?”

###

The Google alerts were going off like cannonfire. It seemed like every few minutes, another article came out. Annie rushed up the stairs, Frankie close at her heels, holding her dress up to avoid face-planting before she reached the nursery, where Ben worked on the last piece of furniture.

“What the fuck?” Annie barked, out of breath, clutching the door frame. “What the fuck?”

“What?”

“Are we hearing wedding bells?” Annie read the headline aloud. “Hardy and Lee - tying the knot?” Annie snarled at the words.

“So what?”

“So what?!”

“Yeah, so fucking what?” Ben shrugged as he continued working. “Annie, you’re practically my wife already. Let them have their fun.”

“I’m practically your wife?”

“Well, I mean -”

“I have to pee.” Annie’s anger seemed to vanish at the blink of an eye. “You’re just about done, yeah?”

“Almost, yeah.” Ben nodded and finally looked at his girlfriend. “Shouldn’t be longer than a few more minutes and then we’ll head home.”

###

“Annie!”

Ben’s roar woke Annie from her nap on the sofa. She rubbed her face groggily and rolled off, stretching as she walked over to the bedroom. Her eyes widened at the unexpected sight in front of her. Ben stood, stark naked, in the middle of the bedroom, seething.

“You rang?” Annie giggled.

“Where the fucking hell are my pants?” Ben hissed, his hands firmly planted on his hips, giving her a full frontal view of his godlike body. Her eyes darted down to his crotch and a cheeky smirk tugged at her lips. “Don’t you even dare, you little minx!”

“Don’t wave it in my face then!”

“Annie, focus.” He marched up to her and pushed her chin up with his fingers, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “Pants.”

“Dresser.”

“I checked the dresser.” Ben let her chin go. “It’s not there.”

“Didn’t you listen to anything I said?” Annie rolled her eyes and stomped over to the dresser. “I explained it all last night.”

“After a 14 hour long workday?” Ben raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me, it must have slipped my mind.”

“You said you got it!”

“I lied!” Ben shrugged. “T’was the only way to get you to let me get some fucking sleep!”

“Oh, sod off!” Annie rolled her eyes and pulled a drawer open, balling up Ben’s favorite grey sweatpants. She walked up to him, shoving them against his chest. “There.”

###

“Can I ask you something?” Ben handed Annie some more bubble wrap before celo-taping another cardboard box shut.

“Of course.”

“Will you ever want to marry me?” Ben asked, biting the inside of his cheek as he waited for an answer.

“For fuck’s sake.” Annie muttered and dropped the roll of bubble wrap. “You promised not to do this.”

“What?”

“Propose.”

“I’m not.”

“You just used will, you, marry and me in the same bloody sentence, you absolute twat!”

“I wasn’t proposing, Annie.” Ben’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why is it such a horrible thing, though?”

“What?”

“Annie, we bought a house. We’re about to have a baby.” Ben’s eyes followed her as she walked out of the kitchen. “Oh, great. Go ahead, run off.”

“I am not your wife.” Annie froze in her tracks. “You are not my husband.”

“Would it really be so bad if I was?”

“Why are you doing this?” Annie turned around. “What are you trying to get, here?”

“Answers!” Ben raised his voice in frustration. “Where are we going, Annie?”

“Pardon?”

“Where are we going?” Ben crossed his arms. “Where is this going?”

“You said it yourself.” Annie shrugged. “We bought a house. We’re about to have a baby.”

“What difference would marriage make, then?”

“Ben, don’t.”

“No, I need to know.” Ben’s entire demeanor hardened. “What’s got you so terrified that the mere mention of the word is so unbearable to you?”

“I already told you.”

“I’m not your asshole dad.” Ben’s body softened. “I’ll never hurt you. Or our child. Children.” He walked over to her, slowly. “I will never. Not all marriages are like that.”

“It’s not just about him.”

“What, then?”

“I’m not doing this.” Annie pursed her lips and turned.

###

Annie stood in front of her wardrobe. She decided it was best to keep away from Ben and went about packing her clothes while he finished packing up the kitchen. She pulled a hanger off the rail and stared at the long, black dress. Lost in thought, she stood there, clutching the dress.

“Are you hungry?” She heard Ben asked, but didn’t turn around. Or acknowledge his presence in any way. Her eyes were stuck on that dress. “Look, I know you’re upset with me bringing up the M word but this is just immature.” Ben walked up behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Seriously.”

“Jesus!” Annie hissed, startled.

“Oh, sorry!” Ben giggled. “What you got there?”

“It’s just this dress.” Annie turned around, still holding up the hanger. Ben reached over and held the dress by the sides, letting it slide in his grip. He smiled when he saw the deep slits on each side.

“Haven’t seen this one in a while.”

“Do you recognize it?”

“It’s what you wore when we first met.” Ben smiled, his eyes flickering from the dress to his girlfriend. “You looked so bloody good in this.”

“I’m genuinely impressed!” Annie chuckled.

“It’s one of my favorite memories.” Ben bit his bottom lip. “Seeing your legs fly out the sides and around Gwil. All I could think about was that I wanted you to wrap yourself around me like that.”

“What?”

“I was so bloody jealous of Gwil.” Ben sat on the edge of the bed. “I mean, until he said you were his cousin. Then I was just relieved. And pleasantly surprised.”

“Why were you surprised?”

“When he told us about you, he never mentioned what you looked like.” Ben patted the mattress next to him, inviting Annie to sit with him. “Don’t get me wrong, Gwilym is very handsome, so it was a given that you would be good looking. But then?” Ben took the hanger from Annie and set it aside, “you took my breath away. You still do.”

“God, that’s so cheesy.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.” Ben shrugged. “You didn’t even have to say anything. You already had me just by looking at me. Looking like that.”

“Please,” Annie rolled her eyes, “you weren’t in love with me.”

“Oh, no.” Ben’s eyes seemed to darken with lust. “I was drunk and horny and you were the most beautiful, fittest bird I’d ever seen. I had a raging boner the rest of the night.”

“So romantic!”

“Annie,” Ben gulped, hesitantly, “I know why you hate the idea of marriage, and believe me, I’m not a fan of weddings myself -”

“I know.”

“But I like the idea of knowing that there’s something that binds us together, you know?” he laced his fingers with hers.

“Creating an actual human isn’t binding enough?”

“It is,” Ben chuckled, “but it isn’t. I need the symbolism. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“Ben…”

“I’m not asking anything. I’m just letting you know.”

“Okay.” Annie sighed. “Now I know.”

“Think of all the Pinterest ideas!” Ben mumbled and laughed when Annie smacked the back of his head playfully.

“Oh, fuck me!” Annie groaned suddenly.

“Don’t mind if I do!” Ben bit his bottom lip and leaned in to kiss her neck.

“No, you wanker!” Annie gently pushed him. “I just realized something.”

“What’s that?”

“I met the love of my life, whom I’m having a baby with but will probably never marry, at a bloody wedding.”

“The irony.” Ben snorted. “Wait, probably?”

TAGLIST: @ramibaby @xgoingdownx @clara-who @violetpond @sweeterthancheese @drummerqueenrmt @westansstuff @rogerinamainbitch @justgivemethekeys @blondecarfucker @cheeseedreams47 @rogerspoison @deacy-dearest @pinkmarvel @onceuponadetectivedemigod @darcyshire

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dramallamadingdang · 6 years ago

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lilleputtu replied to your photoset “One of the cabins-at-the-pond. This one has its own private bit of the...”

your landscaping is amazing. teach me your secrets

Not really any secrets, I’m afraid. It got long, though (Surprise, surprise!), so I cut it. My approach to landscaping more rural/rustic neighborhoods is like this:

1) I use a larger-than-necessary lot for the intended structure, to allow for landscaping, especially for blending in with hood deco flora. A tiny cabin on a 3x3 lot, for instance, where neighborhood-deco scrub encroaches onto the lot, which I can incorporate into the on-lot landscaping. :) Structures in rural areas aren’t usually built right up against the road, after all, and a larger lot allows you to sit the structure away from the road. I know people seem to like tiny lots -- and I get it -- but honestly? When I do this sort of thing, most of the lot ends up being “fenced off” so Sims can’t use it anyway. (More about that farther down.) So, I use larger residential lots in rural areas, sometimes up to 4x4.

2) I build the rough structure -- usually just foundation (if applicable), walls, windows/doors and roof -- in the spot I want it to be in because I “build” the landscape around the structure.

3) If there’s going to be water on the lot, I put that in now.

4) I terrain-paint a walkway from the road to the entry of the house. I usually make the walkway wind a bit, not just a straight line. I terrain-paint a driveway, too, if I’m going to have one and I don’t want to use floor tiles for it. I tend to use a gravel terrain paint for rural walk/driveways, but there are all sorts of terrain paints you can use. I use paint because the shapes you can make with paint are more flexible than what you can make with floor tiles.

5) Trees. I position one or two of them near the path of the walkway, especially toward the road end of it, to define the entrance to the lot. I try to balance the positions, heights, and shapes of the trees to create a visually-pleasing line, similar to the attention I pay to roof lines on the structure. I also give some consideration to scenic views and also to privacy, even though Sims don’t care about either of those things. :) As in, I tend to place some larger trees in places that block views through windows into bedrooms from the sidewalk. But if there’s a nice view out of, say, a window wall, I don’t block that with trees. This is why I put in the windows in the rough structure, because that helps me to decide where trees will and won’t be on the lot. Density and type of trees used is dependent on the neighborhood’s environment, of course. Arid ones get pines and birches-that-substitute-for-aspens, for example.

6) I plop down grass under the trees and any neighborhood deco that is sitting on the lot. I use that converted-from-Bioshock “Boardwalk” grass for this because it’s nice and big. You cover a lot of ground with just one instance of it. I alter the orientation of the grass plots so they’re not all facing the same way and so that there are some curves, for a more natural/chaotic look. Those plots of grass define the area where shrubs and rocks will be used for the “understory” beneath the trees.

7) I plop down shrubs and rocks underneath the trees/deco in the areas defined by the grass patches and also here and there around the footprint of the structure, to break up its facades a little. Again, I use a variety of shapes, types, and heights to create visual interest. And, again, the types used are dependent on the neighborhood’s environment. Deserts and near-deserts don’t naturally have flowering shrubs with lush, dark green foliage, for instance. It’s mostly rock and scrub and yellow grass and cacti.

8) Fill in any little gaps with ground-cover type vegetation. Depending on the environment, I use various grasses and ground covers from the Miasmata conversions, various meshed grasses that MLC repositories, flower squares, “flower squares” that are cacti, “flower squares” that are grass, small plants from the buy mode plant catalog, etc. This can add touches of color and/or just fill in small spots where you don’t want a bush.

9) Terrain paint. Honestly, this can make or break the look of a lot and it’s often the thing I spend the most time on. I layer the paints, using quick squirts and the middle-sized “brush,” because layering them makes the look softer and more natural, with no one paint being overwhelming. The first spray is plain dirt. It goes underneath all of the landscaping. On top of the dirt, I have this rocky sand paint that I really like (I have no idea who made it; its description is in Polish, which I can’t read. :) I got it with a lot ages ago.) I squirt that over the dirt. If pine trees are on the lot, squirts of pine needle paint go under there. On the top there might be something with a bit of green. The Maxis “sandy grass” or CuriousB’s “weedy lawn” one that’s part of her terrain default set tend to work well. I keep painting, blending and layering various paints together until I like the look of it, basically. Then with the smallest-size brush, I go around the edges of the landscaped areas to add more concentrated paint to better define the landscaped areas. Then, over the whole lot, I put down a few fast squirts of a paint that blends in with the general terrain, just to soften any areas of unpainted terrain, using the largest-size brush. Finally, I go back and touch up any areas that might have gotten paint that I don’t want on it.

10) Invisible fences. I put these around any neighborhood deco that’s incorporated into the landscaping, so that Sims don’t walk through the deco. :)

10a) I also have a pet peeve that when I paint walkways on the lot, I want Sims to USE THEM, DAMMIT! and not walk willy-nilly all over the place. So, I tend to lay down invisible fences to create “cattle chutes” for Sims, so that they walk in the places I want them to walk on the lot and not where they want to walk. :) Since you can’t see invisible fences as you draw them, I usually draw the fences with regular fences till I get the layout right, to make sure Sims can access the places where I do want them to go, and then replace the real fences with the invisible one. Of course, if you use landscape stuff that needs to be tended, then you’ll need to allow Sims access to them, but I use a Perfect Plants mod for landscape plants, so I don’t have to worry about that.

And...that’s it? *laugh*

#lilleputtu #replies #tutorials #sort of

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demomeister · 2 years ago

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Install a mods folder sims 3

What Modding The Sims 4 Adds To Your Game Making sure you correctly install your mods and keep them up to date is vital so we've updated this guide to ensure the information is clear, easy to follow and will help you have a great experience with mods. Updated AugBy Helen Ashcroft: As The Sims 4 grows some mods have become outdated and others have become more complex. Related: The Sims 4: Best Maxis Match CC Creators And Curators In short, here's everything you need to know about modding The Sims 4. We also look at how to minimize any negative impact on your game experience, especially after patches are released. In this guide, we take a look at where to find mods, what they can do, and how to download and install them. They are also more likely to cause issues in your game and require more frequent updates. However, despite the fact that mods are relatively easy to install, the process is more complex than when you are dealing with custom content, which adds create-a-sim or build and buy objects. The best news is that mods aren't as complicated as you may expect and they are completely free to download and use. The modding community works hard to fill in the gaps offering everything from small quality of life additions to brand new features and functionality. If you love The Sims 4 but find yourself annoyed that certain features still aren't in the game, then mods can be the answer.

Updating And Resolving Issues With Sims 4 Mods After Patches.What Modding The Sims 4 Adds To Your Game.

#Install a mods folder sims 3

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plumbobpost · 7 years ago

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Fanfic Friday: Spotlight on Skell’s Fortune & Romance

Sul sul!

Today Week of Woohoo continues with a very special twist. I have had the opportunity to ask Skell a few questions as part of a new series of posts about storytelling in The Sims community.

Skell’s Fortune & Romance serves as a prequel to the Pleasantview and Strangetown storylines in The Sims 2 from the perspectives of the Caliente sisters, hence the title which references their aspirations. Her story takes place in the time period between the first and second games and fills in the gaps between the contradicting timelines of The Sims, The Sims 2, and The Sims 3. Although the story is largely from Dina’s perspective, it features most of the iconic The Sims 2 characters ranging from Olive Specter to the Tricous to Bella and Mortimer Goth, establishing its own vivid mythology in the process.

In addition to writing, Skell has also created beautiful Maxis-Match content for The Sims 2 and is a frequent contributor to the Totally Maxis Tumblr and the fansite Garden of Shadows.

Without further ado, I’ll let Skell speak for herself.

You’ve said in the past that Fortune & Romance started out as your attempt to make sense of Maxis canon for the premade characters of Neighborhood 1, Pleasantview, and Sunset Valley. How did this evolve from your personal headcanons into a full-fledged story?

“I had played TS2 off and on for years before I was part of the fandom, mostly just goofing around but I had a lot of fun taking pictures and experimenting with posing. One day I discovered Strangetomato’s “Strangetown Here We Come” on TVtropes and was amazed at the way she fleshed out the premade stories from the game. Through her comment section, I discovered the whole fandom and started paying better attention to the premades. Eventually I came up with a backstory for Dina that I really wanted to write and share.”

Why did you choose Nina and Dina Caliente to be your protagonists? Did you ever consider different lead characters?

“It was always gonna be Dina because I was intrigued her backstory with the mysteriously inconsistent Michael Bachelor and the fact that she’s part alien. I wasn’t as interested in Nina until I noticed that she was shy (like me in RL) and also autonomously beating people up all the time. That’s when I realized she was gonna be a co-star and balance to Dina’s antics.”

Instead of ignoring Maxis’ characterization of Dina as a gold digger, you embraced it and made it a focal point of her character. Similarly, you fully acknowledge Nina’s romance aspiration while not making her a heartbreaker. How did you find a balance between their implied “villainy” in The Sims 2 and making them more sympathetic characters?

“I enjoy classic movies where Marilyn Monroe or Thoroughly Modern Millie is like “teehee I’m gonna marry a millionaire,” and it’s quirky rather than villainous. In those stories, she usually falls for a poor guy and chooses love over money (and often he turns out to be secretly rich.) Since Michael didn’t give her a “married a rich sim” memory, I wanted to write Dina the gold-digger as a modern version of that kind of story.”

“Maxis kind of setup Romance sims for “villainy” by not allowing for casual or open relationships, but of course that can be fixed with mods. With Nina, it’s interesting that she doesn’t really fit the “outgoing party girl” type. I think of her as a quiet person with a very intense energy. She needs lots of exercise and woohoo so that she doesn’t explode.”

There are a lot of unconventional relationships in your story. Nina and Servo. Olive and Ichabod. The Tricous. Even Dina and Michael. That being said, there is very definitely a theme of “love conquers all.” What motivated your approach to these relationships? How does that relate back to your attempts at reconciling Maxis canon throughout different games?

“I have a thing for mixed supernatural relationships. Dina and Mike bonding over their hidden supernatural heritages was always key once I figured Michael had a magic side. I knew I wanted to have Nina be intimate with a servo because that’s HAWT, but I didn’t foresee how intimate things would get until I figured out Servo’s character. The Tricous’ happy polyamory was my explanation for all the weirdness going on with their relationships and family tree. And I wanted Olive, Ichabod, and DJ make up this very loving and weirdly “normal” Unholy Family.”

Speaking of reconciling Maxis canon, you created your own version of Michael Bachelor in order to match his appearance in The Sims better and to create a resemblance between him and his famous sister, Bella Goth. Why do you think Michael was depicted so differently throughout the first three games? What did you draw inspiration from in creating “The Ultimate Michael Bachelor?”

“I think it mostly comes down to them wanting to use a familiar name for Bella’s brother/Dina’s husband in TS2, and carrying that forward. In TS3, I saw a boy who had his life all planned out for him by his father. In my headcanon, he screwed that all up and became the graduate of TS1 who had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. His relationship to Bella is the reason why he’s still single by the time he reconnects with Dina, who helps him find direction.”

There is an abundance of strong female characters in F&R, some of which were not originally portrayed that way. Why did you feel that it was important to write them as such?

“Well, because I’m a proud “SJW,” of course! But seriously, it’s less about being strong and more about seeing them as people?”

^Best answer that I could have asked for.

A large portion of Fortune & Romance is dedicated to the mythology of The Sims universe(s) and to supernatural sims. How did you go about the process of world building? Did you draw inspiration from different games in the series and/or from outside sources?

“My biggest worldbuilding is the explanation of where the supernaturals came from. The fairies are sort of fallen angel types who each have an animal form, and their magic rubbed off on human sims to create the supernatural life states.”

“I try to base the worldbuilding off things in game or aspects of game play. The fairy backstory was heavily inspired by fairy tales, in the way they morally test humans for punishment or guidance.”

Aside from premade supernatural sims such as the Smiths, Calientes, and Summerdreams, how did you go about deciding which premade sims were supernatural and which weren’t? How did you decide what life state they were?

“Bella has that awesome bio about being descended from “occultists, decadents, and mystics,” but then in TS3 the Bachelor family is uber-normal, so it eventually became that Jocasta is a squirellier version of Samantha from Betwitched.”

How has Fortune & Romance evolved since you started? Are there things you would do differently if you were to restart it?

“I was such a younger, different person when I started it, and yes there are many things I would do differently. (Michael’s skintone, for example. I tried to split difference between games with a custom skintone in between S2 and S3, but everyone assumes he was whitewashed to S2.)”

“When recreating families for TS4 I came up with a backstory for Dulcinea and Nestor’s relationship as well as a backstory for Don that explains how he got to be the way he is. I still can incorporate these things, but it would have been nice to bring them in earlier.”

With your story having reached a climax, many readers are wondering whether or not F&R will come to an end sooner rather than later. Not to spoil anything, but will the story continue after the party and if so, do you intend for it to last until the events of The Sims 2?

“I never intended for it to last until the events of TS2 because then it would be really depressing. There is more stuff planned for after the party though!”

Aside from writing Fortune & Romance, you have also created a variety of Maxis-match custom content. Why do you prefer working in this aesthetic? How do you feel it complements your writing?

“The game is cartoony, and I like to use that style to tell the story. I prefer to keep things heightened and silly rather than realistic, which very much fits into The Sims aesthetic.”

Speaking of Maxis-match, you have been working on a project for The Sims 2 that involves adapting Maxis-based custom content to blend in better with the game files. Would you mind elaborating a bit on The Maxis Match Repository Project?

“The TS2 repository project is made up of conversions/separates/or otherwise adapted Maxis which pull their textures from the ones that are already in your game, rather than creating new ones. This makes the files much much tinier. I also wanted to create a catalog where you can easily find it all in one place rather than hunt all over the internet. Check it out and don’t miss out on the gems in the back of your catalog!”

You’ve played every main game in The Sims franchise, and you’ve even made some very popular 2t4 recreations of the Calientes and Michael Bachelor. Do you have a favorite game for playing? Creating sims? Making Content? Building?

“I enjoy a lot of things about TS4. The game looks great and CAS and Build Mode are the best of any game. My favorite aspect is making sims, especially that you can share sims with traits/careers/skills so they have their own little story packaged with them. However, it is much more difficult for storytelling since there’s not even a way to pick up sims and move them around.”

“TS2 is still the best as far as premade sims go, and it’s the only one I make content for. I’m a bit of a control freak with my sims, and TS2 has been mastered by fans at this point where you can have ultimate control.”

Why do you continue to play The Sims? Do you feel that the games provide a creative outlet?

“I always loved playing with Barbies as a kid and The Sims really is the ultimate dollhouse. The first time I ever heard about TS1 I knew I HAD to have it. My aunt bought it for me while I was on vacation, but I couldn’t play it until we got home! During the car ride back home and I read that manual from cover to cover multiple times, so many ideas buzzing in my head.”

Any parting comments, teasers, spoilers, public service announcements, etc.?

“I’ve been on hiatus a long while and am just now getting back into the swing of things. I’m currently working on finishing up the chapter I started posting on Tumblr but never finished. It was FreddyAirmail who got me back in the TS2 spirit by asking me to help out with the Crystal Springs neighborhood project. It’s a community hood with houses based on each of the Stuff Packs, and I made the families for Teen Style and Family Fun!”

Thanks again to Skell for answering my questions. To those of you out there who aren’t familiar with her work, go check out her Tumblr and make sure to catch up on Fortune & Romance.

If you have any questions, comments, or suggestions, feel free to visit my ask box. If you are interested, give Plumbob Post a follow, and reblog for anyone else who you think would enjoy this blog. Stay tuned for upcoming posts!

Dag dag!

*Photo Credits go to Skell*

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wobblyfet · 7 years ago

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The Definitive Ranking of Villainous Pokémon Teams

With USUM just coming out and Team Rainbow Rocket being a thing, I thought I’d dig up a ranking I started a while ago!

7. Team Flare

Look, those outfits are snazzy. There’s no denying that. But… who the hell are these people? What’s their goal as a team of villains?

I mean, Lysandre talks about creating a more beautiful world because he thinks humanity is dumb. The qualifiers for what a more beautiful world exactly are is never made particularly clear, just that this involves the purging of everyone not in Team Flare. He gets a bit of backstory about having a genuine savior complex turned into radical disillusionment, but it doesn’t really cover how murky his goals are here. Like, what exactly is he objecting to about the ugliness of the world? Does he want to wipe out much of the world’s ecosystem with the laser beam of doom in their headquarters or just people? How does that work? And what is Team Flare?

I’m not sure at all what the organization of the rest of this team is. The grunt dialogue suggests getting in is quite expensive, and some of them seem pretty caught up in this whole beautiful world business. There’s suggestion Flare membership is kind of an issue of status. Much of both Lysandre’s and general dialogue about it do sort of resemble the dialogue from real world radical organizations, but the problem here is that radical ideologies tend to have a deeper surface rationale than what Team Flare’s deal is. They care about class elitism while also wanting to destroy what makes the world economy, and I don’t really know why these people would be more invested in genocide than, say, aggressively running a fashion line or a country club.

The problem for me probably boils down to how little depth this team is given. The grunts are just sort of there, admins are indistinguishable, and nobody has really any characterization except Lysandre and Malva, and even that’s pretty murky. Because of that, they fall flat as antagonists.

One thing I did like about them as villains: how Lysandre uses the Holo-Caster to spread his message. Having him pop up between videochatting your friends to monologue about purity and cleansing was genuinely disquieting. In this day and age, abruptly revealing that this world’s equivalent of a smartphone is actually a vehicle for ideological evil is intimidating and relevant.

Though, I gotta say, a Pokémon game is really not the place for Holocaust puns. Boo on that.

6. Team Aqua

These guys are the only ones to seriously rival Team Flare’s stupidity. To begin with, looking at the original games, the whole hook of “More water! Yay environments for Water Pokémon!” is really bizarre in the context of a villainous team on Hoenn. Hoenn is a goddamn island, and at that one that is already thoroughly integrated with the sea. Why there would be enough radical water lovers in this area to warrant any a whole group obsessed with expansionism is kind of beyond me.

I do like that how the remakes broadened both Aqua and Magma’s motives, but… remixed Team Aqua is still incredibly dumb. They’re a radical group in defense of wronged Pokémon, which is cool, but the answer is to destroy the world and restore it to another primordial state? What? I’m no expert in environmental science but I’m pretty sure something like that would, like, definitely wipe out most Pokémon, including the ones that live in the sea. A questionable goal for a group purportedly all about saving wronged Pokémon.

And what’s the long-term plan here for the rest of the group? Is this destruction of the world like a death pact for the members or what?

Archie is entertaining, but let’s be real, he’s also pretty lame. Going so far as to recruit a potentially suicidal eco-terrorist cult only to chicken out when a big whale starts to make it rain is kind of pathetic.

Things that win Team Aqua villain points: fleshed out and entertaining characters in Archie, Shelly, and Matt. Also, pirates are cool.

5. Team Galactic

I feel like Team Galactic started the trend in Pokémon games of there being apocalyptic stakes with the villains. A good Pokémon villainous team doesn’t really need to be world-destroying to work well as bad guys, as I’ll elaborate on below. That said, I would still put a big gap between Galactic and the bottom two teams, and I do generally like these guys.

Cyrus wants to create a new universe without pesky things like spirit or feelings. This makes enough sense for a villainous team in the context of Sinnoh, where a person can capture deities of space and time in Pokéballs. And I also quite like how the game contextualizes Cyrus as a villain of emotional abuse in his childhood- not to say this excuses him, but it adds a nice bit of depth.

Like the last two villainous teams, I have some questions about how exactly Cyrus’s goals translate to an ideology for an entire team of mooks, or, more importantly, how such a wet blanket of a leader convinced a legion of followers to run around Sinnoh in those embarrassing spacesuits. It’s never made super clear what the rest of Team Galactic is hoping to get out of the deal, but unlike Team Flare or Team Aqua, it’s easier to headcanon a large group of people being enticed by holding positions of power in a new world where, without any spirit, people and Pokémon might easily function as slaves.

Another thing I like: Cyrus’s eventual fate in the distortion world. No redemption, no dramatic downfall scene, just him eerily ranting about his ambitions as he wanders off into the netherworld. It’s creepy and sad, and fitting ending to his saga.

Overall, I don’t have strong feelings one way or the other about Team Galactic. It’s satisfactorily developed but comparatively not as interesting as other bad guys in this franchise.

Those team spacesuits, though. There’s no explanation for that.

4. Team Magma

Look, this team suffers from a lot of the issues that their counterparts do. Namely, the way Maxie and his team just kind of fuck off very quickly after awakening Groudon. It’s sort of ridiculous to go so far to advance your villainous team only to give up so quickly. But, other than that, Team Magma is so much better.

To be fair, in the original Gen III games, their motives are pretty thin. However, for the same reasons Team Aqua doesn’t make much sense, Team Magma does. Hoenn is a tropical island in the middle of the sea that demands travelling through the sea and jungle to get anywhere. Hell, I spend enough time facing Wingulls and Tentacools on water routes and I’m ready to sign up. Or take a Team Magma pamphlet, at least.

I kid, but that’s mostly why I like Magma’s expanded motives in the remakes so much. In a world that’s obsessed with accommodating Pokémon and keeping balance with the environment, a reactionary group obsessed with human expansionism makes for realistic bad guys. And expanding land for development at the cost of the ecosystem is exactly what a group like that in Hoenn would focus on. To be clear, none of this is to say that Team Magma is condonable, or that Pokémon’s pro-environmentalist message is somehow a bad thing- it’s just that in this context, Team Magma would be one of the most plausible villainous organizations to come up.

I also quite like Team Magma’s characters. Maxie is a cool customer and exactly the type of smug asshole you’d expect to present an environmentally-unfriendly development plan at the corporate meeting, and Tabitha and Courtney are quite amusing. Updated Courtney in particular is weirdly charming, and I kind of hope we see more of her. And even though I just whined about how easily Maxie turns around and changes his mind, I don’t really think a redemptive ending for them is necessarily a bad thing. Isn’t an ending like that what most of us are trying to get from the Maxies of the real world driving our planet to ruin?

Anyways, if Magma started looking into building eco-friendly bridges across those damn water routes, I’d totally take a pamphlet. Just saying.

3. Team Rocket/Neo Team Rocket

Team Rocket! The OG villainous team! And easily still the most iconic, over twenty years later now. They invented the Pokémon villainous team, and they surely deserve some props for that. That’s the whole reason Giovanni’s coming back as the leader of the super-villains, right? (I have some qualms about this, but more on that later)

Nostalgic factors aside, I think Team Rocket works quite well as an antagonistic force. I just praised Team Magma for being possibly the most realistic villainous team in the Pokémon world, but I really think that dubious honor should go to Rocket. These guys don’t want to end the world or build a new universe or anything like that; they see simple profit in Pokémon and are totally willing to go after that, whatever the cost. And with that, they’re able to function on a large scale and do terrible things.

Even without threatening the Pokémon world with apocalyptic aims, for my money they’re still demonstrably scarier than any other evil team in the series. Yes, Team Rocket will actually murder that Cubone’s mother, and they will mutilate those Slowpokes for profit, and they will mess up Magikarps with freaky radio wave experiments. For that reason, Rocket plots are more memorable than like anything else in the series.

And, like any evil organization worth its butter, they won’t fucking die. They’ll be reorganizing and spreading their tendrils to the underbelly of Johto and the Sevii Islands and now Alola. It’s totally plausible to me that a mafia with an eye for exploitative profit would have more lasting power than any of those other cults and become the villains of the Pokémon world.

They’re only at #3, though, and that’s because of one thing: Giovanni makes very little sense as a big bad boss.

I mean, he’s the shadowy kingpin of Kanto’s criminal underworld, and a gym leader? Isn’t a gym leader’s entire job to be a public official/stepping stone for up and coming trainers in the league? I’ve seen the meme of the one dude in Viridian City musing on the mystery of the gym leader while standing right next a sign that says “GYM LEADER: GIOVANNI”, but really, that’s actually, that’s a really strange problem for the team.

Because really, why would Giovanni think it’s a good idea to run a criminal syndicate from inside an establishment that literally asks for kids to come in and beat him, and then when it happens, be all like “Welp, that’s it for my criminal empire. Time to fuck off to the mountains.” It’s easily the most inexplicable downfall in the series.

I’m not sure why Neo Team Rocket in Johto wanted this guy back so desperately. And I know he’s leading Team Rainbow Rocket because he’s the most iconic legacy villain and all, but let’s be real, all those leaders probably could’ve picked someone more competent to be the evil superboss.

2. Team Plasma/Neo Team Plasma

If I were in the Pokémon world and didn’t have the luxury of a video game screen’s distance, I would probably have some serious moral qualms about the whole catching, training, and battling system. I mean, like, PETA’s response to the Pokémon franchise is over the top and unintentionally funny, but the ethics of how you train Pokémon the only way the games let you is a fair thing to consider. Would the Pokémon world be better off without gyms and Pokéballs, really?

That’s the main reason I like Team Plasma. Their premise is more ideologically compelling than any of the other teams. Because, really, in the first four generations there’s a lot talked up about bonding between Pokémon and trainers and how the two built up the world through cooperation, but there’s really not much to indicate that this exchange is demonstrably preferable to Pokémon whose best interests might not, you know, involve forcible abductions and battling until passing out. Having a villainous team like Team Plasma let the franchise address this question in a thoughtful way, and I dig it.

It also let the Team Plasma grunts be some of the most gloriously awful hypocrites in the franchise. I still remember how absolutely infuriating it was to have all these twerps show up and obstruct me with Pokémon battles while getting all self-righteous about how battling this way was wrong, and how much I hated them all even though they had a valid point. I dig that too. A mix like that can be an ideal recipe for a good antagonist.

What really sells me on Team Plasma, though, is the family drama backing it all. N is great every time he shows up, with all his cryptic dialogue and struggles to do right by the creatures he loves. Pokémon never really had an anti-villain before and he was perfect for games as much about moral ambiguity and balance as Black and White were. Having someone intimately connected to Pokémon and their needs (I remember the chills I got when you first go in his room and see all the scratched-up toys) makes him ideal to communicate the message that good trainer-Pokémon relationships are a healthy reciprocal exchange where a trainer ideally pays attention to the needs of their Pokémon. It’s a nice message.

N adding moral ambiguity to the game is great, but the drop of Ghetsis as the true mastermind is a good one too. The extent of Ghetsis’s manipulation of N was damn chilling, and silly robe or not, adding the personal touch cements him as one of the most solidly awful main bad guys in the series. Child abuse is sort of a running theme in this franchise, and I oddly appreciate much of the way it’s featured- I mean, I don’t like it, but it’s a literary appreciation. In the case of Black and White, framing an ethical struggle of how to do right by your Pokémon against someone brutally exploiting that struggle for the sake of a power grab was effective.

(as an aside, I didn’t much care for the reveal that N wasn’t Ghetsis’s biological son. I feel like the game sort of treated the reveal as a “Guess what? Ghetsis wasn’t your legitimate father all along!” which isn’t great, since whether or not a child has blood relationship to their caretaker doesn’t actually have any bearing on said caretaker’s impact and moral responsibility as a guardian, and pretending otherwise reinforces a harmful message that adoptive parents aren’t somehow “real” parents. Not super important but it’s just a little thing that bothers me)

Team Plasma’s second appearance is honestly less memorable to me than the first, but I dig the whole team evolution and split between Ghetsis’s power grabby followers and N’s good-hearted followers. It gives the saga of Team Plasma a legacy development we’ve really only seen otherwise with Neo Team Rocket in Johto, albeit with a more epic bent.

The big unanswered questions- how the hell did Team Plasma end up a weird religious monarchy? (And who the hell are Anthea and Concordia?) I feel like demanding more practical details of the running of all these evil organizations than a game for children is realistically going to give us is a running theme in this ranking, but I care about these things, dammit.

1. Team Skull/Aether Foundation

When I first made this ranking about a year ago, I gave first place to the Sun and Moon antagonists then too, but I wondered if it was recency bias speaking. But after a year of being less wrapped up in Gen VII than I was then, I can look back and say that these guys are the definitive #1 villainous Pokémon team. I make this announcement seriously and with perfect objectivity on the matter. No questioning or dissenting opinions will be tolerated in this house, silly nit.

I kid, of course. This is just an opinion-based list I wrote for my own amusement. But that said, I do think the antagonists this game gave us are easily a cut above everyone else on this list, just with what speaks to me.

Team Skull, to begin with, is everything. Everything from their designs to their dialogue to the way Alola treats them like a giant joke really feels like these guys were crafted with a lot of affection for them. They’re perfect for the Gen VII games because, like much else, it’s goofy and self-aware and just plain fun. I’ve seen footage of the grunt reacting in horror over you getting to say you don’t remember who they are several times now and it’s still hilarious.

But also like much of Gen VII in general, it swings back around with a surprising amount of depth. The more time you spend talking with grunts, you get more and more of the sense of a lost and displaced group of people turning with their comrades on a society that doesn’t have a place for them. A lot of this is framed around the failure in the Island Challenge, but really, it’s not hard to read more into all the possible reasons the Skull kids could have turned to crime than that, right? (and even if you just leave it at that, I do sort of wonder sometimes about how much value the Pokémon world puts on someone’s strength as a trainer. It seems like it might be a somewhat limiting way to run things, to say the least, but that’s a discussion for another day)

Anyways, Team Skull resonates with me for the same reasons that Magma and Rocket do- it’s a not inaccurate depiction of what kind of evil organizations would appear in a world that resembles our own. What many of the Skullsters describe reflects real life gang psychology remarkably well. The world doesn’t want you, because the normal standards (the Island Challenge) are too high, perhaps on top of not having food or money or being shut out socially for any number of bullshit reasons. But the gang has your back, and it’s gonna provide AND stand with you against the world. Hence the perpetuation of crime culture even when “better” life choices are there, and the emphasis on belonging and group loyalty. The way the story frames Team Skull along those lines gives you another totally plausible villainous group, but unlike Rocket or Magma, it does it in a way that frequently plays on your empathy.

Don’t get me wrong here, I definitely do not mean to paint Team Skull as a bunch of poor lil’ woobies who turned to crime because they had no agency to be better people. They’re still the villains here, after all. We see plenty in game of all the ways they’re earnestly terrible to Alolans, from generally being obnoxious punkasses who get in your way to vandalizing to stealing children’s pets to taking over Po Town. As funny as it is, I’m not totally sure why the denizens of Alola are as unconcerned with Team Skull as they are; taking over an entire goddamn town is nothing to sneeze at.

It’s just… surprisingly nuanced, is all. Team Skull can be a bunch of weenies, genuinely threatening, and have a kind of a tragic reality underneath it all at the same time. Walking through the barricaded ruins of Po Town, across all the belligerent patrollers or members just sitting in the rain, is eerie for more reasons than one.

Boss Guzma encapsulates all of it pretty well. He’ll gloriously ham things up every time he’s on screen, and he’ll bully anyone in his way, but the game also gives him some backstory and, eventually, room to express his standards and prove that he’s really not beyond redemption here. Because getting caught up in Lusamine’s sinister plots really always came down to wanting personal validation and what’s best for his Skull kids, more than a core desire to watch the world burn from Ultra Space. (I might just be a sucker for the Even Evil Has Standards trope, but even so)

I also love the moment where Plumeria decides to help you. It’s not a moment of redemption in the sense that she’s seen the light and decided to stop being a punk. Her MO doesn’t ever change at all; she fights you because she wants to protect her kids, and she comes to your side because she wants to protect her kids.

I love everything about Team Skull, but they’re only half the equation. Sun and Moon also gave us the Aether Foundation. Hoo boy.

Lusamine is my favorite main antagonist in the series. For my money, she’s easily the scariest. And not just because she fucking froze her favorite Pokémon in ice to admire them at her leisure forever. I mean holy fuck what was that and was anyone expecting a scene that horrifying in a game like this. But anyways… (shudders)

Lusamine is intimidating first because of the way she wraps herself in a veneer of civility and benevolence. I mean, it’s true that she gives off creepy vibes from the introduction, just like Lysandre, but the difference lies in just how much the Aether Foundation embodies the qualities of Pokémon Good Guys we know so well at this point. They want to protect the ecosystem and, for Lusamine, it comes from a place of love. But it takes a while to figure out just how messed up that understanding of love is.

Lusamine’s love bubble is about what she can control, and when what she loves deviates from her expectations, she reacts with physical and emotional violence. Because underneath it all, she’s an astonishingly selfish person who puts her loved ones in danger by association. She treats her love for vulnerable parties as a tactic to mold them into whatever she wants, even to horrifying ends (permafreezing Pokémon who probably loved and trusted their trainer), and treats love as a commodity that can be withheld as a punishment and an excuse for doing whatever she wants in retribution. She can take advantage of Team Skull, and more horrifically, Nebby and her children, and eventually end up at critical self-indulgence in Ultra Space because all the world has failed to meet her impossible standards for love and therefore deserves to be razed by her deadly interdimensional pet jellyfish.

I mentioned in the last entry how child abuse is something of a running theme in the Pokémon franchise, and Lusamine brings the most intimate and thoughtful depiction of it yet. It winds up with Gladion lost and caught up with criminals he doesn’t even like associating with and turns cold. Lillie ends up working very hard, by way of new positive social bonds, to overcome the complexes association with her mother forced into her. In the end, both get to symbolically save themselves and stand up to Lusamine’s abuse. It touched me in a place I would have never expected a series like Pokémon to reach.

Lusamine is the fucking worst, but… I appreciated how the games even gave her backstory and space for empathy, too. The lady had a hard deal herself, and after losing your partner that way, it’s understandable that someone would end up obsessed with control and selective about love. She’s still terrible, mind you, but it’s worth seeing where something like that is coming from. And also, I really appreciated that even when her kids are breaking free and standing up, how they still sort of love each other. I loved Lillie’s monologue on Exeggutor Island about how her mother wasn’t all bad all the time, and they have good memories. It’s a realistic outcome for abuse victims to think that way, really. Lusamine’s concept of love is horrifying and unconstructive, and the fact Lillie loves her isn’t going to stop her from resisting her mother’s mind games, and the mere existence of familial love between them isn’t going to come close to fixing just how much in the wrong Lusamine is, but it’s there. It’s more unexpected thoughtfulness it would have been easy not to include, and I’m very glad it’s there.

I also love how Lusamine, like N, addresses in a meta sense some of the moral quandaries the format of Pokémon lends itself to. Because yeah, realistically, the average player is going to be kind of similar to Lusamine- we see Pokémon as ideally under our control and as decorative collectibles to be frozen in the game file indefinitely when we don’t need them anymore. And just like Lusamine, our reaction to seeing a brand new interdimensional jellyfish of doom (or the like) is going to be “I’ve got to get that.” The value of an antagonist like Lusamine is to show how this way of playing Pokémon absolutely cannot be extended to your living, real life relationships.

If I have one criticism of the Skull/Aether coalition as bad guys, it’s probably that the rest of the Aether Foundation is rather opaque. One minute they’ll be serving the wholesome environmentalist mission, and the next they’ll be attacking you with evil grins under Lusamine’s orders. Exactly how much the members knew about and were chill with Lusamine’s secret agendas or how this was dealt with after her downfall was never something that was really addressed.

(Also, screw Wicke. That woman was clearly aware of both how Lusamine was abusing her kids and the shady things the foundation was up to, and why it was wrong, but she still supported it all by working as an Aether executive. I would have hoped you’d get to kick her oily butt like you do with Faba to teach her a lesson about passive complacency in evil activities, or at least see her get a verbal slap on the wrist, but apparently not)

Overall, though, I have a hard time nitpicking when the good parts are so thoughtful and meaningful to me. It’s with this that I’m proud to declare these the top baddies! Woo!

Anyways, that’s it for the definitive ranking! I had fun with this. Will Rainbow Rocket be more or less the sum of its parts? I can’t wait to find out!

#pokemon #lusamine #guzma #giovanni #cyrus #archie #maxie #holocaust reference//#genocide reference//#child abuse//

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