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dangerousduckcloud · 4 months ago

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Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

Read it also on AO3

“You know, I’m going on a date soon.” “Yeah?” Your voice was coarse. “Yeah, she’s truly pretty, and I want to make it special, but I’m not sure what her ideal date would be, though.” You chuckled. The heat on your cheeks was simply due to the burnout of the whole exercising and not because Jason called you pretty. Not at all.

Chapter 12 < > Chapter 14

Masterlist

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog @katrina0-0 @readingfictionnothingelse @lookingforsyd @jackrabbitem @lvlythea @qmabailor

If anyone else would like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

so, the last update was like two weeks ago, sorry, life happens also, happy birthday to our favorite crime lord, i raced to post this on his bday ♥

There's mentions of grooming almost at the end of the chapter: nothing like that happens (nor will it happen in the future of this story), it's all due to a newspaper's libel.

You should run. You should leave.

Maybe if you wished hard enough, one of the bats (the animals) would take you by the shoulders and whisk you away to never be seen again.

It was different when Damian was here, knowing the topic of a date wouldn’t come out with him present (and maybe that’s why he left you two alone), but now that the kid had disappeared, there wasn’t a string of ones and zeroes in which you could hide yourself behind, either with the excuse of not seeing the notification or being busy (with what, though? he knows you don’t do squat all day.)

No, if he took the opportunity to bring up the mention of a date, you would be left on the spot, forced to reply, to stumble and make an idiot out of you.

Regardless, it seemed Jason wasn’t as frantic with the situation as you were, absorbed with fixing something on his bike. You could totally leave, bid your goodnight and go upstairs, where your racing mind could catch a break.

But of course, you didn’t. Wanting to bask in his presence as much as you could, not knowing when you would see him again.

Was he serious about the date?

In lieu of leaving, you picked up the taped-up toy to busy yourself, and not be dumbly idle fiddling with your hands. Your movements were slow, sluggish, your aching muscles not giving you full movement, but also because you were doing everything you could to prolong being left with nothing to do while you tried to think of what else to do.

There was a steel box filled with sharp, dangerous gadgets that were all broken in some way; some were salvageable, while others were destroyed beyond repair that you couldn’t even identify what they used to be, left here to be used for spare parts. This crate must be from where Damian took the tape, but you couldn’t see it anywhere when you turned your head left and right to search for it. Where did he put it? You better look for it before it gets lost, before it rolls over the floor and down into the—

“Did you ask Damian for the lessons?”

“Not really, no.” You turned round to answer him. He was fiddling with a loose strap of the red threads he usually worn around his hands in his Red Hood suit, not even pretending he was interested in talking to you. You gave up looking for the tape, making a beeline to the weight bench and sitting down, inspecting the bandage on your left hand that had the tiniest red dot. “He sent me a message to come down here. I don’t know if it was his idea or not, but—”

Your eyes looked for his face, only to find no one in the spot he’d been standing just one second ago. Out of the corned of your eye, you saw movement in the medbay, the bulky figure going through the cabinets in there.

Anger and disappointment were bubbling up inside you, battling each other for one of them to emerge victorious. Why would he ask a question if he didn’t care in hearing the answer?

“But?” he asked as he turned around, making his way back to you, gauze and cotton in his hands.

So, he was paying attention after all.

Jason sat down next to you, gently talking hold of your hand to remove the dirty and sweaty bandage, his calloused hands sent sparks all over your body, the twitch of your fingers at wanting to lace them between his mistaken as the reaction of the cotton touching the cuts. You weren’t in any pain, the cuts smaller than a paper cut, yet he mumbled a soft apology.

“But… It’s nice to have someone to care for me like that.”

Your gaze was focused on his hands, hands that’d been in countless fights, knocking unconscious men and women bigger than you without breaking a sweat, hands that were forever bathed in blood, hands that pulled the trigger on numerous criminals without a second thought, without remorse.

Only he knew how many had met their fate by these hands, and only he knew how many more would pile up to the list. He could break bones and spill blood as easy as it was breathing.

And yet, they were still capable of kindness, gentleness, of moving so delicately with every motion thought with the most care and attention it made you feel like the petals of a flower. These hands were capable of healing, of comfort, tending to the practically invisible cuts with a careful caress.

“I’m sure you have someone back home that cares for you.”

“No, at least… not anymore.” Now that you thought about it, it was taking Damian to find Tim longer than it should.

“How come?”

“I work all day, and —I love my job, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes it’s grueling dealing with all that people that…” Great, now you were rambling, the immediate conscious feeling of thinking, knowing, he might be regretting starting a conversation. “That in my free days I’m not in the mood for dating or friends.”

He nodded, cleaning the last cut on your hands and picking up the used bandages and cotton balls. Tilting his head up to meet your eyes, with the cutest, small smile on his face, and dimples on his cheeks, he asked “What about family?”

It was a matter of time for someone to ask about them, for someone to open the wound once again. “They’re gone. Car accident.”

The hands once again found their place over yours, engulfing them in the warm his body was radiating.

“I’m sorry. I—” You shook your head, both to ask him to stop and to prevent tears from falling. It’d been so long, yet every time you thought about it, the dread that consumed your body that day felt just the same. The silence stretched out uncomfortably, mostly for him than you, focused on ridding yourself of the painful memories and the tears welling in your eyes. “You know, I’m going on a date soon.”

“Yeah?” Your voice was coarse.

“Yeah, she’s truly pretty, and I want to make it special, but I’m not sure what her ideal date would be, though.”

You chuckled. The heat on your cheeks was simply due to the burnout of the whole exercising and not because Jason called you pretty. Not at all.

You’re sure that if your brain wasn’t so dehydrated to the point of resembling a raisin, it would be malfunctioning.

“I bet she’d like something romantic, like a picnic, or chocolates.”

“No flowers?”

“No flowers.”

“Alright.” He closed the lid of the aid kit, the echo disturbing the sleep of some of the bats. “I’ll do that, then. Wish me luck.” With a wink and a grin on his face, he got up just in time when echoing voices broke the silence.

When you were out of your stupor, you stood up. There wasn’t much for you to do here, as you wouldn’t be able to be of any help with the case. Besides, you were in dire need of a hot shower for sore muscles that were going to hurt like hell tomorrow.

“Timbo!” The voice rumbled through the cave, greeting him once he and Damian were at the end of the steps. “Got some intel for you.”

“Yeah, Damian mentioned something like that.”

The tense shoulders and the cognizant eyes were painfully obvious signs of how overstrung and uncomfortable Tim was, forced to pretend he’s unbothered being left with the two brothers that attempted to kill him, both more than on one occasion.

Question was, did Jason and Damian were oblivious to that, or they simply not care? Was it believable to think the two vigilantes didn’t notice?

Your shower could wait. Besides, you would be lying if you said you weren’t curious at seeing them work.

Tim wasted no time, eager to get this over quickly, and sat down in front of the computer, fast fingers gliding over the keyboard, Damian at his left and Jason behind him, scooting over when he saw you approach.

“I got a name. Gregory Crowther. Low tier goon, but he’s the one getting the girls out of the city.” His hand brushed against yours for a second. That’s simply things that happen, you thought to yourself, nothing done on purpose, no hidden meaning behind it.

You shook your head to clear your mind, focusing instead on the grand screen in front of you; a database Tim had accessed to with the information of one Gregory Crowther, the mugshot of a stout, balding man with eyes so dark and full of hatred piercing your soul through the screen, a disgusting yet impressive list of crimes next to the photo: shoplifting, indecent exposure, fraud, murder, arson, assault, battery, drug possession… and now kidnapping and trafficking. This guy was a golden worker for criminals, with years of experience dating since his teen years.

“Gregory was released from Blackgate three months ago, for arson.” Tim said. “He worked for Riddler a couple years ago, but this isn’t the type of things he does. Besides him, he never worked for any other rogue, this must be an outside ring.”

Jason began pacing, a murderous look on his face, completely different from moments ago. “Huh, well, this is… Interesting.” Tim kept talking, moving closer to the screen. “He works for a shipping company that’d had several complains of delays in deliveries since the start of the year, all of them from New York.”

“So, he picks the girls in Gotham and takes them to New York.” Jason stopped pacing, his hand holding the back of the chair with so much force you could see the leather creasing. “You said the start of the year? Can you access the records of everyone that has done deliveries to New York?”

Another list came out, with at least the names of fifty people on it.

“I’ll get their addresses and do a background check, see if some of them have some link in common. In the meantime, I sent Gregory’s address to your phone, Hood. He had a day off today.”

“I’ll have a chat with him.” Jason mumbled while looking at the address on his phone. He’d walked past you to get to his bike when he stopped abruptly. It seemed he was debating something, his hand going up as if to catch Tim’s attention, who was engrossed in the information displayed on the computer, only to fall flat at his side. Your eyes met for a second, his expression unreadable.

He shook his head and got on the bike, speeding out of the cave.

What was that?

Damian and Tim were none the wiser to whatever situation had happened just now, still focused on the screen, the very far corner of it reading fifteen past nine.

“Come, Damian.” You put your hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the stairs. “It’s getting late and you have school tomorrow.”

Tim’s snicker earned him a glare from the kid.

“I am not a child.”

“I’ll believe that when you can reach the pedals on the Batmobile. Come, or I’ll go get Alfred.”

He grumbled, but heeded your order nonetheless, stomping with every step he climbed.

Definitely not the reaction of a child.

———

As expected, your sore muscles woke you up in the morning, every move of your legs and arms needed ten times strength than usual, but there was still a reason for which you wanted to wake up early and not lay in bed all day (you could do that later). Taking another quick, scalding shower, you went downstairs hopping you weren't late.

"Morning, Alfred" You grabbed a freshly baked muffin and sat down at the kitchen island, if Alfred was still here, that meant you were on time, maybe even early considering how empty the kitchen was.

“Good morning, Miss Jane, you seem quite excited today."

"My body is on fire, and I hide my pain behind my smile."

As expected from the man who raised a household of vigilantes, his only reaction was to curve a brow. "Well, at least you're honest, unlike my grandchildren. May I inquire what ails you?"

"Damian's teaching me self-defense, and now my muscles are paying the price"

"Ah." Alfred places a steaming cup of chamomile and lavender tea in front of you, the first sip already doing wonders for your tender body.

"Master Damian mentioned it to me last night. I must say, I appreciate having a... Let's say normal person spending time with him, teaching him how to be a normal kid, especially one that cares for him as you do."

Alfred's gaze did not concord with his words. It wasn't hateful nor suspicious, simply... wary. Of what, though?

"Yeah, he’s... difficult, but I care for him like the little brother I never had" The sound of dragged footsteps drew your gaze to the door, whoever was making the noise, they wanted to be heard. "Speaking of my favorite brat. Why are you still in your pajamas?" Unlike the posh and pristine uniform, you were expecting to see him in, Damian was still wearing his plaid sleepwear.

“I am unwell, Pennyworth. I believe it wise to rest and avoid getting my classmates sick.”

“Is that so?” Alfred didn’t believe him in the slightest. “Come here so I can feel your forehead.”

“I must refuse.” Damian coughed surprisingly real. “I am contagious and do not wish to sicken you in your advance, frail age.”

“I can do it then, I’m not old.” You turned to look at Alfred. “Sorry, Alfred.”

“Apology accepted, Miss Jane. I believe it is the best option anyway. After all, my frail body could confuse Master Damian’s temperature and believe him to be healthy, we wouldn’t want to send him to school sick, now, would we?”

Before Damian could run, you put both hands on his face, the back of your hand feeling nothing but his cool forehead.

“Why don’t next time you put a warm towel before coming down? You might fool us.” Damian grumbled something in Arabic that you had no idea what it meant, but you knew he wasn’t complimenting your outfit for today. “Go get changed or you’ll be late.”

Stomping, again, he left the kitchen, his usual frown on his face ten times stronger.

Soon, the clanging of pots and pans was replaced with chatter and clattering of utensils. After patrol, Steph had spent the night in the manor, recounting how patrol went between bites of her breakfast.

“It was a pretty calm night for Gotham. There were like, only three muggings, so Cass and I stopped by BatBurguer for fries. Condiment King was there.”

Your eyebrows gently shot up your face.

“He’s real?”

“Unfortunately.” Tim piped up. “The night’s he’s out are the worst, I never know if I’ll get back covered in mustard. Do you know just how hard it is to get rid of the smell?”

“Buddy’s not that bad.” Steph said. “… When he’s taking his meds. We chat with him for a while, and he was doing pretty alright, he’s working in a convenience store next to my school, I might drop by from time to time and say hello, make sure he’s not relapsing.”

“Didn’t he used to be a comedian?”

“Yeah, but there’s a limit to the number of condiment puns one can tell.”

“Bad jokes.” Cass agreed.

Alfred walked inside the small dining room, the one connected directly to the kitchen through a simple arched wall. There was a formal, bigger dining room, but since there were rarely enough people in the manor to use it, all meals were taken here, in a booth placed next against a window. He was drying his hands on a kitchen towel, taking off his apron next.

“Master Damian, we better leave now.” Without any fight left in him, Damian begrudgingly stood up from the table, you mimicked his movements, however cheerful rather than moody.

“Why are you following me, Jane?”

“Oh, I want to go with Alfred to drop you off.”

“Why?”

“I take enjoyment in your suffering and I wanna see it as much as I can. Consider it my revenge from making me exercise more than I’ve ever done in my life.”

———

It wasn’t until Alfred had started the car that you realized what you were about to do. Cold, tingling limbs scared of going back to the city, scared of being taken hostage or kidnapped again.

Every rumble of the car felt like a beacon of your location, every possible pothole or pebble that shook the vehicle felt as if the car would stop instantly and a man would open the door to pull you out.

The rational part of your brain was begging for you to realize how improvable that was, you were safe. Both of those times you’d been in open, vulnerable areas, vulnerable situations. Besides, you were sure Alfred must be carrying a weapon with him.

You tried to focus on your surroundings rather than your invasive thoughts, looking for something that would intrigue you; there were simple, boring buildings on either side, a stray dog relieving himself on a bush, an unopened bottled water in the cup holder, Damian next to you drawing— “Is that me?”

The sudden question caused Damian to jump in his place, quickly slamming shut his sketchbook.

“Must you be so nosy?” Damian put away the book inside his backpack. You were dying to see his drawing, yet you knew how annoying it was to have people forcefully taking hold of things you wanted to keep private, so you simply said “Looked like me. I was curious.”

In the distance, you were beginning to see the form of Gotham Academy’s main building. The red, brick wall fence and trees surrounding it ineffective in covering the structure. The groups of tweens and teens excitedly chatting between them on their way inside, most likely catching up on their extravagant activities done while on vacations.

Alfred stopped the car way further than where the entrance was, discovering the reason once he spoke. “Oh dear.”

In front of you were two other cars stopped, the drivers fighting each other on who was at fault. You were confused at exactly what’d happened until you noticed the tiniest of scratches in one of the cars, barely visible, nothing these people couldn’t pay to get it fixed.

“Miss Jane, would you be so kind as to accompany Master Damian to the entrance and make sure he goes inside while I turn the car around? I shall be waiting at the corner.”

“Sure.” Taking off your seatbelt, you left the car, rounding it to get on the sidewalk, hearing Damian slamming the door shut. He was quieter than usual, not complaining or judging people, his gaze focused on the sidewalk, kicking a small pebble until it rolled to the street.

You let him be, gauging into the daily lives of the one percent; despite being young and talking like any other kid, they still exude an air of grandeur, or properness and poise.

“Jane?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you hate me?”

That made you stop. Where had he gotten that idea? Where was this coming from?”

“What? No.”

“It is alright if you do, you would not be the first one.”

“I don’t, Damian. Why would you think that?” You placed a hand on his shoulder for comfort, resuming walking when parents began scowling at you for hindering their walk.

“Earlier, at the manor. You mentioned enjoying my suffering.”

You’re quite an idiot, aren’t you?

“Oh, fuck, Damian no, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how?”

You’d forgotten you were talking to a kid that’d gone from being an only child to having four siblings, all older than him. He wasn’t social and took all things completely literal, he most likely wasn’t used to this type of jokes.

“I was joking, Damian. It’s like when Tim asks me to do something, and I say no, but I do it anyway. It’s just to mess with him.” He was so deep in thought, a frown on his face.

“So, you do not hate me?”

“Not at all, Damian. In fact, you’re my favorite.” His frown was replaced by a smug smirk.

The bell rang, the few kids still outside running to their classes. You sided hugged Damian, wishing him good luck on his first day. His walk to the entrance as calm and unbothered as he could, not caring if he was late.

With the ring of the last bell, the street was soon empty and quiet, even the men fighting had resolved their issues and left. You were alone now, with no one to protect you from an attack, no one would know your location if you were taken.

A familiar car was the only one left in the street. That’s right, Alfred’s waiting for you. It’s not even a minute walk, nothing could happen; yet you still sped up your walking as much as you could without looking suspicious

“Everything alright, Miss Jane?”

“Yeah, just… Making sure Dami didn’t try to escape.”

“Very well then.”

Your breathing calmed down once the car was put on motion, you were soon going to be safe behind the manor’s walls. The streets were calmer now that parents had dropped off their kids and all workers were already in their offices, the drive calmer and smoothly than it’d been ten minutes ago.

While waiting for the traffic light to turn green, your phone vibrated next to you on your set. A text from Damian.

| Useless torture

A photo of his desk with an open history book attached to the text. With a smile, you typed in a reply.

| We can paint something when you get back

| Your artistic skills are not your forte.

| :(

| But I suppose even abstract ideas can convey something.

| :D

———

Both Steph and Damian were busy with school, Tim had locked himself in his room for a meeting, Cass was taking a nap, and while Dick had contacted Alfred to let him know he was alive and coming back to earth, he still wasn’t available for idle chatting, and all your bravado of the other day hadn’t dare to make an appearance today, so you didn’t have the confidence to send Jason a message (although you were curious, what did he do during the day?)

It was an unusually bright day in Gotham, the breeze light enough to not lift the pages of the book you were reading, the condensation on your glass of lemonade made it even more appetizing than it already was, cooling down your warm body. The birds were taking the lack of rain as their opportunity to sing to their hearts content.

You’d never felt this calm before, without the looming threat of real life, of work and expectations, without the need of society to be fast, fast, fast. No, time had slowed down for you, letting you breathe, fill your lungs with rose scented air from the nearby flowerpots. You were in a dream, in a bubble of peace and quiet, broken in seconds by the notification on your phone.

Normally, you wouldn’t have cared about any of this before. You still couldn’t care less about politics and sports, but now that you were a part of this city that once was fictitious and not just an outsider feeding of the scraps the fandom could get you, you’d set up notifications about local news and entertainment of Gotham (as well as Metropolis, reading everything written by Clark Kent and Lois Lane)

Of course, now that you lived in the house of a well-known public figure and his children, you also set up an special alert every time the name ‘Wayne’ popped up in any article, which, despite them not being extremely active in society lately, there were still quite a couple of newsclips every week.

So, when your phone lit up and began loading the article, it wasn’t a surprise, however, the title in big, bold letters was an unpleasant one, forcing you to take a big gulp of lemonade to help pass down the pretzels you were munching and almost chocked on.

‘Underage Bruce Wayne Lover?’

This morning, a photo of an unknown young woman seen with Damian Wayne, biological son of Bruce Wayne, began circulating all around social media, with citizens wondering if this mysterious woman is Damian Wayne's mother due to the warm embrace they were both sharing.

Since the appearance of Damian Wayne in Gotham three years ago, not much is known about his mother, with Bruce denying commenting about the topic. It's now time to wonder if his reluctance is tied to the problematic situation he got himself in.

It is important to note the youngest Wayne has not been seen caring, nor affectionate in public with any member of his family. Why, then, would he be affectionate with her if she were not his mother? They certainly share similar physical qualities.

The problem of the matter begins when one questions the age of the girl in the picture, as she does not look old enough to be the mother of a ten-year-old, in fact, she probably was his age when he was born.

This newspaper begs to the GCPD to investigate Bruce Wayne's private life and discover what he's doing behind closed doors with all the children he's adopted 'out of the goodness of his heart'.

At the time of writing this article, Wayne is out of the country in Wayne Enterprises matters, making him unreachable for questioning. Since last year, he had left most of the CEO responsibilities to his third youngest son, Timothy Drake-Wayne, so why is he the one meeting with possible clients? Could it be that these meetings are code word for whatever nefarious activities he's involved in?

You were disgusted, staring dumbly at the article, reading it once again to make sure your brain hadn’t made up the whole thing.

At the end of the article were two photos, one of when you were side hugging Damian before he walked inside the school (he wasn’t even hugging you back, how is that ‘affectionate’? There were probably thousands of photos with Dick doing the same), and the other of you getting into the car with Alfred, your face completely in focus.

Comments on the article were a mix of people throwing shit at Bruce, and others throwing shit at the article itself.

> I always knew Wayne was sick, why else would he adopt so many kids in the first place

> They should remove his custody of all of them and get them to safety

> You gotta be a fucking idiot to not consider the possibility that she's just another stray he adopted who got close to the kid

> Wasn't Wayne found in a stint of a group of child molesters a year ago and declared as 'working undercover'? I wonder how much he paid to the police to say that

> I find it highly unlikely Brucie would do something like that when he almost beat to dead a guy who tried to touch his oldest when he was a kid

Your hands were shaking, sure that all color had been drained from your face. When did they take the photo? How did they know to be there?

The reflection of something on your face drew your attention from your phone to the gate in the distance, a shadowy figure high up in a tree with a camera pointing at you.

Shit.

You didn’t even bother to take your stuff before going inside, you’d fucked up and had drawn unwanted attention on the family, not to mention helping Bruce get labeled as a groomer.

Opening door after door in hopes of finding someone, the sound of one closing in the distance reached your ears.

“Timmy!” It appeared he’d just finished his meeting, rubbing his shoulders after his two-hour conference. When you shouted his name, he immediately changed his posture; going from relaxed to cautious in a second, his hands went down to his torso, raised and ready to defend, his left leg going forward for a more stable position.

“What’s wrong?” When you shoved your phone on his face, it took him a few seconds to react, relaxing his posture and taking the device from your hands, eyes skimming over the page. “Ah.” Was all he said, calm as if you’d told him it was going to rain in Gotham “What about it?”

“What? Tim, this is serious, I’m ten years older than Damian, they’re implying Bruce slept with a twelve-year-old. Why are you so calm?”

“Because they’ve done it before.” Tim went back to his room. You’d never been inside before, only seeing glances of it when the door was left ajar and you were walking down the corridor. It was… Tidy was not the word you’d described it. Clothes were strewn all over the place. Half-filled, cold cups of coffee forgotten in every surface available. You were pretty sure Alfred would disown him if he saw this.

While you were observing his room, Tim had turned on his laptop, notes and diagrams of his call still open. Once he found what he was looking for, he turned the screen to you, the web results with several links all accusing Bruce of being an abuser, some even decades old, coincidentally, they all came from the same newspaper: the Gotham Weekly.

“They’ve been doing it since dad adopted Dick. At first the cops investigated it, —or well, Commissioner Gordon did— but they all quickly found out it wasn’t true, every two or three years they post something about this that people don’t believe them anymore, especially when they started to corner us at galas and events to give our statements. You should’ve seen their faces when their recorder accidentally hit Cass in the face, Bruce was fuming, threatened to sue them all for everything they had if they didn’t stop. I’m surprised they haven’t gone bankrupt already.”

“Oh.” Was your turn to say. “Why, though?”

“The owner, Bill Blacklow, has some sort of grudge against Bruce since their teen years, so I guess he’s trying to get back at him, I don’t really care much to look it up, after that incident they pretty much stopped, but I guess they got bold because Bruce’s not here. This isn’t really a problem, but we could give out our statement if it makes you feel better. But really, only like ten people will read this.”

His assurance and calm demeanor brought down your anxiety levels.

“You’re sure this won’t affect your family?”

“Can Superman fly?”

You sighed, letting yourself drop down on the bed.

“There was also a paparazzi outside.” Tim’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, crouching down next to the bed, the sound of boxes moving coming from under you. “What are you looking for?”

Instead of replying, his face popped up next to you, slowly raising his hands to reveal a… Oh.

Oh, this is going to be so much fun.

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marvelgurl789fanfics · 3 months ago

Text

Remy Lebeau (Gambit) x Child OC

(Remy Lebeau (Gambit) x Rogue)

~Princess Fiona’s Tea Party Part 7 to Safe~

My Heart (Part 6)

Warning: None

(Not the best at grammar or punctuation)

Summary: Fiona gets Gambit and a few other X-men to join her for a tea party.

Masterlist

A/N: I can’t stop thinking about the flashback part of my last part and decided to expand on it.

~~~~~

It was early afternoon at the mansion Storm was watching Fiona, while Gambit was training in the danger room with Rogue and Logan. Storm was sitting on a bench in the yard watching Fiona running around in a pink T-shirt dress throwing her purple bunny plushie that has been named Monsieur Sprinkles up in the air and catching it. A light laugh left her as she admired the child’s energy, “auntie, play with me” Fiona said loudly with excitement running to Storm Sprinkles tight in her arms. “What game are we playing sweet child” Storm smiled at the girl, Fiona stood there and thought for a moment before placing a small hand on Storm’s knee giggling “Tag” and ran away. Getting up and started to chase Fiona Storm was glad she chose not to wear heels today. Jean and Scott who must of been out for a walk, were stopped by Fiona giggling and hiding behind them. “What are you up to?” Jean laughed as she seen Storm walk up to them, “it seems she’s hiding so she won’t get tagged in the game she started” Storm said looking at Fiona hugging Scott’s leg but prepared to run. “Tag huh?” Scott said before quickly catching Fiona off guard and scooping her and her plushie up in his arms tickling her, “Hurry tag her I got her trapped” Scott smiled at Fiona’s full blown laughter.

“Gambit gets done training and he find you torturing his kid” Gambit teased walking out of the mansion in casual clothes hair tied back and still slightly damp from the shower he took after training. Scott set Fiona to her feet as she still laughed, “she’s started it” Scott joked back in good humor. “Mon petit never, she’s innocent” Gambit chuckled before turning to Storm and thanking her for watching Fiona. “It was no trouble” Storm smiled as she seen Fiona cling to her papa’s pant leg. “Can papa play now?” Fiona looked up at Gambit with big golden eyes he could never say no to. “Oui, but père tired so something calmer?” Gambit said slightly pleading with the three year old. Fiona eyes shined with excitement and pulled his pants leg for him to follow her with her free hand her other holding tight to Monsieur Sprinkles. Gambit allowed her to drag him to her room, once there Fiona set her bunny plushie on the floor and began digging in her toy box looking for something.

Gambit slightly regretted training with Logan, more often than not it left him sore trying to one up each other. Sitting on the floor his back leaning against the side of her bed, a gleeful sound got his attention as Fiona found what she was looking for. A shiny pink plastic crown now placed on her head with a fluffy blue boa in her hands, running the small distance from her toy box to her papa she presented the boa to him. “Oh is this for me?” Gambit asked already knowing the answer he leaned forward allowing her to put it around his neck, with a big grin Fiona grabbed Monsieur Sprinkles and hand the plushie to him. Running back to her toy box she pulled out a blue plastic Cinderella teapot and matching tea cups, bring them over to where he was sitting she began to set up her tea set. “Merci, for inviting me to your tea party princess Fiona” Gambit said beginning to play along, “prince papa always invited” Fiona giggled running to her bed and grabbing her other two plushies. Setting the orange cat plushie that she named Ginger across from where Gambit sat, then placing the white dog plushie by her open door. “He don’t get to join?” Gambit laughed as Fiona sat beside him, “Sir Fluffy is guard” Fiona said as if it was obvious. “Oh bien sûr” Gambit said trying to hide his laugh.

“What’s going on in here?” Morph snickered poking their head in the room noticing the scene as them and Logan walked by, who just shook his head in amusement. “Tea party” Fiona announced jumping to her feet excitedly, “jealous?” Gambit joked wrapping the boa around his neck and throwing it over his shoulder with a hair flip. “Oh so jealous” Morph laughed but then noticed Fiona running up to them reaching for their hand, “uncle Morph play too” Fiona cheered looking up at them with pure excitement making it impossible to say no. “I don’t know, only if uncle Logan can join too” Morph said looking over to Logan with a mischievous look earning a glare from Logan. Fiona grabbed both their hands hand dragged them in the room with not fight from either person, then running to her toy box once more. “Welcome to the party” Gambit chuckled as Morph and Logan sat down joining the tea party. “what a lovely party” morph laughed back finding the whole situation funny, Logan glared at Morph and Gambit blaming them for pulling him into this.

Fiona ran back over with two more boas handing Logan a green one, and with a sigh he put it around his neck not wanting to break the little girls heart. Before Fiona could hand the pink boa to Morph, they took it upon themselves to shape-shift into Cinderella puffy blue dress and all. A gleeful sound of amazement left Fiona as she seen them turn into a princess, dropping the pink boa to the floor and almost tackled morph before sitting in their lap. Gambit would usually tease morph in good humor for turning into a Disney princess but just smiled knowing it made Fiona’s day. Fiona poured the pretend tea in all their cups and lifting her cup up, and pretending to drink the three adults followed suit. “Mon petit this is lovely tea you must tell père the recipe” Gambit said after a pretend drink holding his tea cup with his pinky out, “oh yes I must tell the other princesses about this” morph said playing the part of Cinderella well then elbowing Logan to say something, “yea it’s great” Logan said awkwardly no sure of what to do holding the tiny tea cup in his hand.

“Oh wow, I was looking for you all for dinner but I wasn’t expecting to find this” Rogue said surprised trying to not laugh entering Fiona’s room. “Bonjour Cher” Gambit said with a smile like this was a normal thing for him, “we can explain” Morph said shifting to their natural form while Logan looked down with an irritated sound. “I don’t know how you did it sugar but you gotta to teach me” Rogue laughed lifting Fiona from Morph’s lap and into her arms.

~~~~~

Any suggestions or ideas welcome. Got other parts planned check out Masterlist.

I don’t know French, all French is from google translate:

Monsieur (mister)

Mon petit (my little one)

Oui (yes)

Père (dad/father)

Merci (thank you)

Bien sûr (of course)

Bonjour (hello)

Cher (dear)

Part 8

#marvel #marvel xmen #x men 97 #x men #x men x reader #xmen oc #remy lebeau #remy lebeau x reader #remy lebeau x oc #gambit #gambit x reader #gambit x oc #gambit x rogue #x men fanfiction

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kimi-level-of-idgaf · 2 years ago

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We’d make a cute one of these - Trevor Zegras

trevor zegras x fem!reader

My older sister had asked if I was able to watch her one year old daughter while her and her husband went on a date night.I had immediately said yes as I love my niece and jump at every chance to see her.

“TREVOR!!” I yell from the couch.

“What’s up babe?” Trev says as he walks out of the kitchen.

“Can you go get the stuff for Leilani? She’s coming over in an hour.” I say with my puppy eyes.

“Lei is coming over? Since when?” Trevor asked.

“Since Addie just called me five minutes ago. Is there a problem?” I say with a grin, knowing he’s wrapped around the little girls finger.

“No, I like knowing in advance. She never eats our food. We need to have stuff for her or something,” Trevor sighs, as he turns and starts fretting over the small stuff we have laying around our house that Leilani might grab ahold of.

“Well we have some fruit she can eat. And yogurt,” I say, getting up and walking into the kitchen. I hear Trevor sigh behind me. “Well, what? Do you want to go get some for her?” I ask with a quirked eyebrow.

Trevor smiles and nods his head. He turns on his heel, grabs his keys, kisses me head, and heads out the door.

I stand there, baffled, for a second before I head up to get the toddler pen that Addie gave me for when Leilani comes over. After setting it up in the living room I go back up to the closet to grab the box of toys that have accumulated at our place since Leilani was born. After I have some blankets and some toys set up in the playpen I decide to make myself some tea before she gets here.

As I’m stirring my hot cup of green tea I hear the door to the garage open and into the kitchen walks Trevor. With three whole bags of baby snacks.

“Trevor!! She’s not our kid! We don’t need this much!” I exclaim, eyebrows raised.

He grins, “Babe, she’s always with us. Just start bringing some when you go to lunch with her and Addie. Maybe we can win her over and she’ll just stay here forever.”

A small grin creeps to my face. “Hmm, I’d like to see what Addie thinks about that.” As he opens his mouth up to respond, the doorbell rings and Trev’s face lights up. He runs to the door, swinging it wide open. “Leilani, you’re getting bigger everyday!” He says, taking the toddler from Addie as they both walk in. “Don’t remind me,” Addie says as she sets Leilani’s diaper bag on the floor next the bench by our front door. “Well, I’ve got to go. You guys know everything I would normally say, right?” she asks, still being a worrisome mother. I open my mouth.

“We’re fine! Leilani loves visiting us, don’t you?” Trevor says over me as he walks away with Leilani into the living room.

Addie turns to me, “When are you going to give that man a kid of his own, look at him with Leilani.” she coos.

“We are not close to having our own baby. But yeah, he’s great with her, isn’t he?” I say, watching after him.

“Hmm. We’ll see. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Thank you guys so much again. Really, you guys are lifesavers.” Addie says on her way back to the front door.

Helping her out I say, “Of course, we’ll take her anytime.”

After Addie leaves I grab my cup of tea and head out to the living room to see the tv already set up playing Bluey and Trevor sitting with Leilani in his lap. He was leaning over her bopping her with his finger all over and she was rolling around his lap laughing and giggling. I smile at the sound of the little toddlers glee and go to sit next to them.

“Who’s that Leilani? Who is she? Is that Auntie y/n?” Trev says in the voice he reserved for speaking to Leilani.

I lean over Trevors shoulder and smile at the little girl who’s eyes are farting back and forth from me and trevor and a smile that doesn’t falter.

“Hmm, it’d be pretty cute if we had one of these,” Trevor mutters and turns his head.

I turn my head in shock. We’ve never had this conversation. I knew Trevor was great with kids and I knew he was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. “Kids? You want kids right now?” I ask with a lazy smile.

“Well , maybe not now.” he says, grinning back at me. “But I know it’s you. I want to have my life be with you and all of the actual parenting stuff that we never get to do now, I want that later, with you. That, I know for certain.” Trevor admits, getting serious.

“I can’t wait to live that life with you, Trevor” I say as my eyes well up with tears.

Leilani lets out a soft wail and regains our attention. “Yeah, Leilani. What do you say? Do you want a little cousin?” I laugh as Trevor asks Leilani for her input as if she had any. I could definitely see this becoming the normal for Trevor and I soon.

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader #nhl blurb #nhl hockey

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oswanily · 1 year ago

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Medieval Recolors of Objects Dump, part 1

There isn't enough maxis match medieval cc, so here is a little set of recolors, making some game items look more appropriate for the era. Not everything is pictured, but apart from the Ye old cookbook oven, everything on the pictures is included. As you can see there is enough to furnish a house (apart from the bathtub: I found enough good cc bathtub options, and the base game wooden one can work fine, so I didn't bother with it).

This set contains 21 items, please read the item description (below the cut) because not everything is base game compatible!

Also, as you can see, this is part 1, there is a part 2 planned, and some CAS items too.

Items list:

Bench: Outdoor Retreat required, recolor

Bunk Bed: Horse Ranch required, retexture, I also tried to up the energy and comfort level but I haven't tested those (but it should work, I have done it before)

Candles: Base Game, recolor and tuning edited so they work as an anti monster under the bed lamp

Chair: Base Game, retexture

Changing Table: Growing Together required, retexture (don't add the safety belt thingy, there wasn't really a way to make that era appropriate so i left it as is)

Chest: Base Game, retexture, works as a dresser

Counter: Base Game, retexture, the angled pieces look a bit weird but I did my best

Double bed 1: Outdoor Retreat required, retexture of the mattress with the original frame wood swatches

Double bed 2: Base Game, retexture

Dresser: Kids Room Stuff, retexture

Fridge: Cottage Living required, recolor, this fridge doesn't work off the grid (for the ultimate decades challenge you can't have a functional fridge, so I made it based on what I needed, if you want a functioning off the grid version just ask!)

High chair: Base Game, retexture

Infant bed: Base Game, retexture

Mission tables: Base Game, retexture, three sizes

Potty: Cottage Living required, retexture

Screen (room divider): Base Game, retexture

Single bed: Cats & Dogs required, retexture

Toddler bed: Base Game, retexture

Toy Box: Cottage Living required, retexture, (don't look in the toy box when it's open, the toys have a wood texture but there's a very anachronistic robot in there)

The swatches don't match on all items, but most have at least 6 swatches in common.

The download is a .rar file, extract it and you can pick and choose which items you want. Remember, only keep items you have the corresponding packs for!

If you have suggestions for objects you want to see in part 2, tell me!

Download: SimFileShare | Dropbox

@allhistoricalcc @ts4medieval @maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters @mmfinds @sssvitlanz @emilyccfinds @public-ccfinds @alwaysfreecc thanks!

#mycc #S4CC #mmcc #medieval cc #sims 4 medieval

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helix-enterprises117 · 9 months ago

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Halo Reloaded: Armor Up

The Spartan-II training facility's halls were usually the kind of place where silence went to die, punctuated by the constant march of boots and the stern commands of instructors. But today, they echoed with a different sort of rhythm: the slightly off-kilter stride of John-117.

Decked out in the Spartan equivalent of "casual Friday" attire – which, to be honest, still looked like something you could parachute behind enemy lines in – John was a study in youthful determination, albeit with a side of lingering awkwardness unique to 14-year-olds. The Spartan augmentation process had been a rollercoaster that none of them were eager to ride again.

Most of his fellow super-soldiers-to-be treated the ordeal like a mildly inconvenient flu, bouncing back in four days with little more to show for it than a new ability to bench-press a warthog. John, however, had been on the receiving end of the cosmos’s sense of humor, enduring a grueling two weeks that left him wondering if someone had swapped his augmentations for a particularly nasty case of space mono.

Stepping into the conference room felt like walking into a surprise party where the guest of honor is a military secret. The usual sterile, buttoned-up atmosphere of the room had been swapped out for something that could only be described as "expectant tension with a side of Spartan." His fellow Spartans, a collection of 16-year-olds who made the average Olympic athlete look underdeveloped, were all buzzing with a mixture of excitement and the kind of jittery energy usually reserved for kids on a sugar high.

Dr. Halsey stood at the front, her demeanor that of a professor about to unveil a breakthrough that would either win her a Nobel or get her a stern talking-to from the ethics committee. "Gather round, Spartans," she said, her voice a blend of command and conspiratorial glee. "What you're about to see is the result of years of blood, sweat, and an ungodly amount of government funding."

The Spartans shuffled closer, their usual poise momentarily replaced by the universal human reaction to being told they were about to get a present: unabashed eagerness.

John, finding himself amidst a sea of towering figures, couldn't help but let a wry smile play across his lips. The situation was absurd - a group of teenage super soldiers, giddy as school kids, all because of what? A new toy?

As Halsey pulled the cover off the object with a flourish, she might as well have been a magician revealing her final trick. "Behold," she announced, stepping aside to reveal not a rabbit, but the next generation of Spartan armor. "Your second skin."

The room erupted into an odd mixture of awe-struck silence and muttered commentary that sounded like someone had crossed a sports commentary box with a tech expo. "Would ya look at that," one of the Spartans whispered, voice tinged with reverence and a hint of disbelief, "It's beautiful."

"Bet it could make me run faster," Kelly chimed in, her comment floating over the crowd like a challenge.

John stood there, taking it all in – the armor, the reactions of his peers, the palpable excitement in the air – and couldn't help but think about the road ahead. The grueling training, the augmentations that felt more like an exercise in masochism than enhancement, and now this... it was all leading to something bigger. Something dangerous. But as he looked around at his fellow Spartans, their faces alight with anticipation and a touch of youthful naivety, he felt a surge of camaraderie.

"Yeah," he finally spoke, his voice cutting through the chatter with the ease of someone used to being heard, "But can it do laundry?"

The laughter that followed was a rare sound in the Spartan-II training facility, a moment of genuine human connection amid the relentless preparation for war. In that laughter was an acknowledgment of the absurdity of their situation – teenagers, turned into super soldiers, preparing to don armor that made science fiction look quaint.

The atmosphere had shifted from one of eager anticipation to cautious intrigue, thanks in no small part to Dr. Halsey's next revelation. "As part of our development process for the Mjolnir suits," Halsey began, her voice steady, betraying none of the drama that her next words would unfurl, "we conducted an initial test with a volunteer from the Marine Corps."

A collective breath seemed to be held among the Spartans. Volunteer work within the UNSC often ranged from the mundane to the suicidal, and given the context, guesses on where this story was going veered towards the latter.

"The marine was a seasoned veteran," Halsey continued, her gaze sweeping across the room, locking eyes with each of the Spartans as if to underscore the gravity of her recounting.

"Decorated. Experienced. And, most crucially, willing." Murmurs of respect whispered through the ranks. To volunteer for unknown, potentially lethal testing was a mark of courage—or recklessness—that every Spartan understood intimately.

"Upon activating the suit," she pressed on, "the marine's initial response was of exhilaration. The Mjolnir's capabilities far exceeded anything within our current arsenal. However," here, Halsey paused, allowing the word to hang in the air like a guillotine's blade, "the suit also responds to neural impulses at the speed of thought."

A sense of foreboding crept into the room, a shadow that grew with Halsey's every word.

"Regrettably, the human body, unenhanced, cannot withstand such instantaneous, powerful responses. The marine... suffered extensive injuries."

"How extensive are we talking?" a Spartan interjected, the question hanging between curiosity and concern.

"Every bone in his body was broken," Halsey answered, her tone clinical but not without a hint of regret. "He survived. Recovery will be... extensive. And yes, his career in the field is effectively over."

A heavy silence followed her declaration. The implications were clear and chilling: the Mjolnir armor was not just a tool, but a titan that demanded respect, and a certain genetic fortitude, to wield.

"Will he be alright?" another Spartan asked, the question voiced softly, a rare crack in the façade of Spartan stoicism.

Halsey met the question with a nod. "He will recover, physically. He's been recommended for an honorable discharge and will be offered a position away from the front lines. His sacrifice has provided invaluable data."

The room settled into a contemplative quiet, each Spartan wrestling with the story's implications. The line between human and superhuman, it seemed, was drawn not just in ability, but in the very capacity to survive their own strength.

Then, breaking the silence with a resolve that seemed to push back against the room's growing somberness, John-117 spoke up. "He knew the risks?"

"He did," Halsey confirmed, meeting John's gaze with an unreadable look.

"And he volunteered anyway," John mused aloud, not a question but a statement—a reflection of understanding, perhaps, or a glimpse into his own unwavering resolve.

"Yes, John," Halsey replied, her voice carrying a new weight, a recognition of the courage mirrored in her Spartans. "He did."

As whispers of concern and not-so-quiet bets on who’d bite the bullet and go first swirled around, John-117 stepped forward. The runt, the Omega, the kid who was always picked last for dodgeball until people realized he could dodge, throw, and strategize like some kind of mini-Sun Tzu.

His bravery wasn’t just the talk of the town; it was legendary, bordering on the reckless. But then again, who among them wasn’t a few crayons short of a full box for signing up for this gig?

John’s choice of gear was like watching someone decide to bring a knife to a gunfight because they’d figured out a way to make the knife shoot bullets. The Mirage armor core he selected was the equivalent of choosing the sleek sports car in a lineup of armored tanks. It was built for speed and agility, the kind of suit you’d wear if you wanted to dance through bullets rather than walk off getting hit by them. Its plates were thin, flexible, more akin to the elegant armor of a futuristic knight than the hulking exoskeletons of its brethren.

Tossing aside the standard-issue Mirage helmet with a flick of disdain, John opted for the MK-VI—a headpiece that looked like it had been designed for a BMX rider destined to joust in a post-apocalyptic world. With its pronged visor and compact design, it was less about shielding your identity and more about making a statement: Here I am, come and get me.

As the suit’s pigmentation shifted to a forest green at John’s command, it wasn’t just the armor that changed. The mood in the room took a turn from anxious to awe-struck, as if everyone had suddenly remembered who they were and what they were training to become. This wasn’t just about surviving a suit; it was about mastering it, becoming one with it.

Strapping on his bandolier like he was accessorizing for the end of the world, John’s machete sheath and radio clamp weren’t just tools; they were statements. I’m here to fight, and I plan to win. His readiness was palpable, a physical thing that filled the room and reminded everyone exactly why they were there.

Dr. Halsey, ever the ice queen with a heart of, well, maybe not gold, but perhaps a sturdy alloy, regarded John with a look that might have been pride or might have been calculating the odds. "How do you feel?" She asked as the room held its breath.

John, surveying the sea of faces—his teammates, his rivals, his family—cracked a grin that was all cocky assurance and youthful bravado. "...Like I'm ready to take on the whole damn world."

The armory erupted, not in laughter, but in a shared release of tension, a collective acknowledgment that, yes, this was insane, but if John-117 was leading the charge, then maybe, just maybe, they had a fighting chance.

Dr. Halsey, allowing the faintest smirk to grace her lips, simply nodded. "Then let’s see if the world’s ready for you, John." This wasn’t just a test; it was a declaration. John-117 wasn’t about to enter the arena. He was about to redefine it.

@ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask, @authortobenamedlater, @empresskadia, @makowrites, @makowrites, @killer-orca-cosplay, @ageless-aislynn.

#halo #halo fanfic #halo fanfiction #master chief #john 117 #master chief fanfiction #master chief fanfic #halo headcanon #halo au #halo reloaded #ultimate universe #Ultimate Halo #helix studios117

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gaiathemexicanbeauty · 2 years ago

Note

UHM

Boss

Can I have headcanons of the Mad Dog of Shimano watching his crush play with a toddler and he realizes he's in love </3

Boss <\3

majima crush headcanons

warnings: mention of alcohol but mostly dumb fluff! :3

reader is gender neutral! :D

idk who ur calling boss but if its me HEYYY SIR YES SIR I CAN WRITE FOR YOU 🫡

also i know you only asked for the crush with a toddler but this will be just a general crush headcanon list as well!

thanks so much for requesting! i’m steadily getting through the requests i have but make sure to check out my ask box! thanks for reading! <3

i think if majima had a crush on someone i feel like he wouldn’t really know it at first, he is most definitely the “we look like a couple of besties” guy but not on purpose

that or he’s completely ignorant and when (if you ever do) tell him, he’s like “????? REALLY??”

BUTTTT!! when he finally realizes it, he is so distraught; he’s the guy that thinks about it at night and he’ll toss and turn before finally laying on his back

he stares at his ceiling with his fingers intertwined over his stomach before he growls and gets out of bad to go out and find something to do to get rid of the giddy feeling in his stomach (he wouldn’t tell you that, though, he punches anyone who insinuates he has a crush)

so he obviously doesn’t tell you when he has a crush on you

and i think when the two of you are alone, he feels a lot less inclined to be all “HEHEHE HAHAAH IM CRAZY AND INSANE” to impress you but he’ll act funny when you’re in a bad mood

had a really vivid image of you and majima maybe at one of those rooftop bars or maybe ur just on a rooftop hanging out (for whatever reason) and you’re telling majima all about your day and how you need a drink but you may as well have stopped talking bc he wasn’t paying attention, he was looking at you and taking in the view of the moon and the way it was shining on you; not that you would really notice bc of the completely unbothered front that he puts on

i think seeing you with a kid is what really reels him in, though, he’s almost scared of the way his heart leaps in his chest

you and him probably head for a park (there’s like two in kamurocho if i remember correctly, it’s been a long day guys) after a night on the town

majima is laying on a bench with his arm over his eyes while you sit by his feet and change your shoes for something more comfortable before a toy runs into one of your shoes and knocks it over

“hey, you got in the way of my car! you’re sitting on my tunnel!” a shrill voice says, running up to the bench you are sitting at and snatching the car away.

majima has most definitely woken up from his very light state of sleep, one of his arms hanging off the side of the bench and the other laying on his stomach as he watches you start to playfully argue with the kid

and he regrets it

he doesn’t say anything while he watches you make a “racetrack” (it’s really only sticks that you and the boy can find around the park) with the small boy, he’s afraid he’ll spit up a butterfly or something from how many are flying in his stomach right now

you’ll occasionally look up to see what majima is doing and he’ll feign disinterest, picking at his nails or something to make it seem like he totally he wasn’t looking at you

“MISTER! DO YOU WANNA PLAY TOO?!” the boy shouts from inside the slide, making majima sit up as you shrug your shoulders at him and gestures for him to join you two

and how could he say no to that?

the three of you spend what only feels like a couple of minutes making the rest of a racetrack before a group of small boys catch the small boy’s attention and he leaves\

“you sure can hold your own with a kid.” majima mumbles from behind you, sitting down in the exit of the slide and leaning back on his hands

“what can i say? kids like me.” you say, shrugging softly before you crouch down to majima’s height inside the slide

you boop him on the nose with your finger which makes him jump before you say “which is probably why its so easy to be around you.”

majima’s face goes beet red before he swats your hand away, making you giggle as he grumbles about how he ‘hates’ you

IM SORRY IF THIS WAS LITTLE TOO LONG AND MAYBE WASNT WHAT YOU ASKED FOR HELPPP

i reallly tried to make it obvious that he had a crush on you but imo, majima himself isn’t the kind of guy to be really obvious about who he likes unless he’s drunk

but either way, i got so excited to write this and had so much fun! :D i hope you enjoy it! <33

#yakuza #yakuza 0 #yakuza x reader #yakuza imagine #yakuza imagines #yakuza kiwami #goro majima #majima goro #majima x reader #goro majima x reader #yakuza headcanons #headcanons #reader insert #majima x you #goro majima x you #yakuza x you

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gosmigenergy · 1 year ago

Text

FEELS LIKE CHRISTMAS / Maxwell Lord (Lorenzano) x F! Reader

Summary: Celebrating Christmas for the first time with Maxwell.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mostly holiday fluff but turns explicit, holiday stress, mentions of family, mentions of Christmases alone, mentions of food, drinking, sixty-nine dude, oral - male receiving, oral - female receiving, P in V, unprotected sex (use protection irl please), language, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 5.9k

Author’s Notes: I did plan on making some continuous fics about Bunny and the Boys but I work in retail, have just come back from Iceland (panini delayed holiday) and I’m going to Norway to visit my sister over Christmas. When I was considering what to do because I really wanted to post something, I found this unfinished Maxwell Lorenzano seasonal story hidden away on my computer.

Anyway, enjoy!

You normally loved the season, you basked in multicoloured lights, engulfed by the smell of roasting chestnuts, ears ringing with the constant playing of hymns and cheesy pop songs.

However this was the first year you and Maxwell chose to celebrate Christmas, with him came Alistair and with him came the pressure of presents. For Maxwell, they had to be perfect even though he wasn’t loaded with fake Black Gold money, he had to give his son what he never had, the one gift every kid was asking for.

The Ghostbusters Firehouse was proving to be one of the most desired toys of the season, it had been since Halloween.

Alistair had dressed as one for the school disco, you’d found a jumpsuit and dyed it brown, found an embroiderer who made the name tag and spent hours building a Proton Pack from cardboard boxes. All that effort was worth it, to see that kid running up the steps with several other Ghostbusters in similar attire, be it triple the price.

“I love you,” Maxwell said, beaming with a lopsided grin and tears framing his eyes.

In that moment, you felt a warmth that you’d never quite felt before, one that was reflective of a proud parent.

You didn’t feel that right now.

After hours of following the herd, going into what felt like every toy shop in DC and coming out empty handed each time, you broke.

“Alistair is back in two and a half hours, I just want to go home,” you cried. You were literally crying on a bench, cheeks hot with the freezing air.

Maxwell’s smile had disappeared long ago, replaced with a straight line.

“Fine.”

He huffed into the space next to you.

The bus ride home was quiet, Maxwell keeping his emotions to himself, his grip tight on the shopping bags. You’re grateful as the tension seemed to drop a little when you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Please talk to me.”

The pair of you had finally stripped yourselves of your winter accessories and coats, abandoning the gifts in your bedroom to stop prying eyes, yet neither of you had said a word.

“What’s there to talk about? I’m a shit father who couldn’t get a present for his son.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Maxwell Lorenzano,” you walk to him and place your hands on his cheeks so he couldn’t look away. “You are not a shit father.”

His deep brown eyes glossed, his chin crinkling as he tried to stop himself from having an absolute meltdown.

“I can’t even get my kid the one toy he wants, what am I going to do?

“What are we going to do? I’m not letting you blame yourself for this. This is companies exploiting Christmas, making people feel shit for things out of their control.”

“Don’t you love Christmas?”

“Yeah but not this. Not making a father feel guilty for not getting his son a toy, that’s not what this is about. I love everything around that, the delight of snow and the rush of having to get outside. The warmth of a hot chocolate settling in your stomach, nights on the couch wrapped in copious amounts of blankets with It’s a Wonderful Life on the tv…”

Your heart twinges.

“The smile on the face of someone you love getting something unexpected, the voice on the other end of the phone as you wish them happy holidays.”

That’s what it always was for you. Your family far away, you unable to afford to get home.

“Mi amour.”

Maxwell brought a thumb to your cheek and caught the tear that had escaped.

You sigh, “It’s just been a long day.”

“I know.”

He pulled you close, resting his slopping nose on top of your head, breathing you in. You hold each other for a fragile moment.

“I need to go and have a think, ok?”

He kissed your forehead.

You nod before looking around your shrinking space, somehow the apartment the three of you shared was getting smaller.

“I’ll get this place in order before Alistair arrives and start on dinner.”

“Thank you, baby.”

He walked away almost defeated.

“Hey, you better not go in there and make some elaborate plan to make everyone’s deepest desires come true.”

“That was one time.”

You giggle.

A while later, the knock at the door interrupts your flow but you couldn’t stay mad for long when that wide smile greets you.

“Max, Alistair’s here!”

You’re almost knocked back as he throws himself at your legs and in for a hug, you squeeze his head to save yourself from falling.

“How’ve you been?”

“Good.”

“How was your mom?”

You didn’t really care, you were just making pleasantries to try and pretend you didn’t find the woman absolutely insufferable. When he lets go and gives you a shrug, you take the hint.

Ok, you mouthed.

“Alistair,” Maxwell appeared, his smile matching his son’s as he fell to his knees to embrace him enthusiastically. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

“Me too, mom said she wants to talk to you, she’s downstairs.”

“Alright, why don’t you help with dinner?”

“Ok!”

Alistair ran to the kitchen.

You guessed what this might be, the exchange of presents from ‘Santa’ as discussed between them. Alistair was going to be away from his mother for the holidays, not that either of them seemed to mind. You and Maxwell would have him until New Year so you had plenty planned.

“I’m sure you can keep him distracted for a while.”

“Of course,” you winked.

---

“Why is your tree so small?”

Alistair cocked his head to the artificial tree placed on a side table next to the television.

“Oh, I got that tree when I first moved to DC. I couldn’t afford much but I was desperate for some sort of Christmas decoration and there it was, last on the shelf at Goodwill.”

“Were you on your own that Christmas?”

“Yeah, my family were all back home.”

“Have you ever been back?”

“No, I’ve never had the chance. Though I’ve had loads of good Christmases here with friends and neighbours, Mrs Zonana gave me the biggest chocolate log you’ve ever seen.”

“Really?! Do you think she’ll make one for the party?”

“I’m sure she will.”

“Have you ever wanted a big tree? Mom had one that almost reached the ceiling.”

You shrug, “I’ve never thought about it, it’s just been me but, yeah, I guess something a little bigger would be nice.”

“And colourful lights for the window?”

The more he inquired, the more excitable he became and your smile grows.

“Colourful lights would be good too.”

“How’s everything going in here?”

Maxwell wrapped his hands around your waist, the chill prominent from his trip outside. He rested his chin on your shoulder and looked down at the carnage of flour, butter and cheese, Alistair’s hands coated in the ingredients.

“It’s gonna be later than expected.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“It’ll be worth the wait.”

---

“Can I just sleep here tonight?”

Alistair’s eyes were heavy, belly full from dinner and his body warm from a combination of flannel pyjamas and a fleece blanket.

“No, we all need to go to bed.”

Maxwell was the only one moving, he’d cleaned up and offered to make special hot chocolates, two of which would feature alcohol. He handed his son a mug brimming with whipped cream and marshmallows.

“But it’s comfy here,” he moaned.

“I can’t disagree with him.”

You were stretched on the couch, waiting for Maxwell to return to fill the space he left behind. He was your headrest, allowed you to snuggle within the crook of his arm and listen to his heart beat slowly. Once he was back, you were asleep for sure.

“Everyone is going to bed,” he reiterated.

He remembered the last time the pair of you fell asleep on the couch, his cricked neck played up for almost a week.

“Boooo.”

“Careful you two or Santa won’t bring you presents.”

Alistair laughed.

“Oh dad, Santa isn’t real.”

“What makes you say that?”

You try to deflect, Maxwell was hoping for another year of illusion at least.

“Jake told me.”

Curse you, Jake.

“Well, it’s not that he’s not real, it’s more that you’re old enough to allow Santa to bring joy to another kid. He’ll make sure this year’s extra special, I’m sure of it.”

His expression scrunched, “That sounds rubbish.”

“Oh no,” Maxwell shook his head, “it’s very true.”

Alistair’s eyes flitted between both of you and you knew the game, keep a straight face just long enough for him to believe you.

“That’s cool.”

He continued to watch the Christmas special on the tv. Maxwell handed you your hot chocolate and slipped into his spot. He let you settle back before leaning down and kissing the top of your head.

His words were soft, “Thank you, baby.”

You had gone to check on Alistair one last time before heading to bed.

“He’s out of it.”

Maxwell was already cosy under the duvet, glasses on as he read a battered copy of A Christmas Carol. Closing the door gently, you tiptoed across the room and slide into the other side, resting your fuzzy head on the pillow.

“How are you not dizzy reading after that drink?”

“Because I didn’t put an extra shot in mine.”

“Max!”

“What? You deserved it.”

You huff, you can’t stay mad at his stupid face, his wide toothy smile looking down on you.

“How did it go… with the present swap?”

He put his book down, “Fine.”

Maxwell was a man of little words when it came to his ex wife.

“You know you told Alistair that white lie about Santa Claus? Well, lucky for us, she managed to get that firehouse.”

“Of course,” you scoff.

The moment Maxwell lost his ‘wealth’, his then wife dropped him for someone who could pay the lifestyle she was after.

“Paid triple the amount for it.”

You let out a singular laugh.

“At least Alistair will be happy.”

“Do you think he’ll like what we got him?”

“Why do you ask?”

Maxwell’s brows furrowed, maybe he did make a mistake putting another measure of Irish cream in your hot chocolate.

“He knows we’re not necessarily as well off as his mom but I don’t want him thinking that we don’t love him as much because we can’t give him that.”

“Alistair knows we love him, maybe even more than his mother does.”

“We got him underwear,” you throw your arms up as you spoke.

“He needs new ones.”

“I know he does but we’re giving them as a present.”

“I was very happy when I got underwear one year.”

“You’re lucky to have a kid like him.”

“I’m lucky to have you too,” he said, cuddling closer. “Not every girlfriend would go from toy store to toy store trying to get a present for a kid that isn’t theirs.”

“You both mean the world to me.”

“And you’re everything to us.”

He cupped your cheek, feeling the heat seer through his palm before his lips met yours.

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You can’t remember falling asleep, only Maxwell gently shaking you awake. In your groggy state, you could sense it was still dark out yet you rolled over to see him fully dressed.

“Alistair and I are heading out,” he whispered. “He forgot to get a present for his friend.”

“I’ll get dressed.”

“No, don’t get up. Have some time to yourself, ok baby? We might be a while.”

“Ok,” you immediately roll back over.

No offence to Maxwell but it was way too early and you were far too hungover to kick up a fuss, he told you to stay and you wouldn’t put up a fight about it.

The phone started to ring the moment you stepped out of the shower.

After a lie-in, you visited Mrs Zonana ahead of her Christmas party, hosted every year in the apartment complex’s courtyard. You offered to help in some way and after much persuasion, she had you and another neighbour putting up the gazebo and decorations. Then you got back and knocked up some cookies for the evening before getting ready.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby.”

“How’s your day going, Max?”

He groaned, “It’s gone fine but we’re running late, we’re waiting for the next bus. Do you mind if we meet you at Mrs Zonana’s?”

“Not at all, can’t promise there’ll be any food left.”

“It’s Mrs Zonana, she’ll save us a plate.”

You hum sarcastically.

“Don’t deny it, she loves me.”

You roll your eyes, “Am I being replaced?”

“Of course not,” the phone crackled, “I’ve got to go, love you.”

He hung up before you got the chance to reply.

When you finally made it downstairs, the outside was already buzzing. You made your way through the throng of your neighbours, stating you’d catch up later before reaching Mrs Zonana.

“Oh, I’ll make the boys their plates and keep them warm in the oven.”

“You don’t have to, they’re the ones running late.”

She battered you with a tea towel, which you were unable to decipher whether it was meant to be playful or if she really did want it to hurt.

“Sorry we’re late!”

Everyone practically cheered at Maxwell and Alistair’s arrival. You swiftly apologise to Nico to ensure you got to them first.

“Finally! Where have you two been?”

You jokingly put your hand on your hip and pout, Alistair giggling at your phoney expression because you, of all people, were never mad.

“Sorry, baby.”

“It’s not me you have to apologise to,” you smile wickedly as you sense Mrs Zonana’s presence.

“Alistair, come get yours and your father’s food.”

He runs away immediately.

“Did everything go ok?”

Maxwell hummed.

“You look exhausted.”

“I know but it’s all with a good intention.”

You rubbed your thumb along his cheek, warm in a rush to make it back, the faintest sensation of whiskers from lack of shaving.

“How have I not been greeted by my man yet?”

“Hola, Mrs Zonana.”

Maxwell slipped seamlessly into Spanish around her and you always prayed that they were saying kind words when your name popped up. You drew your attention to Alistair for a while and listened to him talk about his day with his father.

Occasionally, yours and Maxwell’s eyes would catch across the courtyard and you’d exchange the softest of smiles throughout the rest of the evening.

“I’m tired.”

Alistair was valiant in staying up, most of the other kids had gone to bed. He flopped onto the edge of the garden box with you and Maxwell, who had escaped another lecture on ancient artefacts from Mr Fennec.

“We should probably get you boys to bed, huh? It’s been a long day.”

They both groan, playfully collapsing their heads to your shoulders.

“Come on,” you ruffle Alistair’s hair.

After saying your goodbyes, the three of you strolled up to the apartment.

“I have never seen a boy this excited to go to bed,” you laugh.

Alistair had run ahead the moment you reached the walkway. Maxwell brought you closer, locked an arm around your waist and breathed you in.

“Don’t think I can blame him.”

The holidays were always tiring even when you were on your lonesome, you were always invited somewhere with someone and keeping up appearances was the norm. You spent years coming back, crashing onto the mattress before getting up to do the whole thing all over again. It was nice that the building party was the only real big deal this year.

Maxwell chose to do his office party by himself because why would you want to be surrounded by drunk, obnoxious salesmen for the evening? You were better off with Alistair baking cookies, watching a film and secretly helping him wrap presents for his father. Then Alistair’s mom took him to the school party and to meet Santa, attending the Christmas light switch on was the one event you happily obliged.

“Why are you taking so long?”

“Because we’re old,” Maxwell shouted as he and you approached.

“Did you hang mistletoe on the door?”

Your inquiry was met with a shrug.

“You do realise that I don’t need a Christmas tradition for an excuse to kiss you?”

“Ew,” Alistair fake barfed.

Maxwell rummaged to find the key in his pocket, refusing to let go of you. Alistair snatched it out of his hand as soon as it reemerged. Maxwell’s hand came to your jaw and gently, he eased you to face him. He stared at you with his brown puppy dog eyes, bringing his other hand to meet your cheek.

“Shouldn’t we be under the mistletoe?”

His face was illuminated by an orange glow as Alistair made his way inside.

“Too much effort,” he smiled before clashing your lips together.

It could be because he’s tired or the alcohol or the fact he was trying to make the kiss more of a pantomime for his son to endure but Maxwell was messy. He practically pinned your face to his with both hands, slipping his tongue passed your lips sloppily, forcing your body to turn backwards to the door.

You gasped for air when he finished.

“I like the enthusiasm.”

You take a couple of steps back to see his expression soften, he knew what he’d done, chose not to say anything.

Then you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

Wait, that wasn’t there when I left.

And suddenly the room seemed to fill with pinpricks of every colour.

“Merry Christmas!”

Alistair leapt from behind you and slowly, inch by inch, you took everything in. You didn’t utter a word, couldn’t even scream as your chest began to heave.

The tiny desk tree had been replaced with one triple the size, overloaded with baubles. Every wall was lined with string lights, the kitchen sill decorated with ornaments and tinsel and the focal point, three stockings hanging from the breakfast bar, embroidered with golden letters.

“Do you like it?”

You fall to your knees and squeeze Alistair hard. You put every ounce you had in you to hug that boy and kissed his head multiple times.

“I love it, Alistair, I love it so much,” your voice cracked.

“You’re crying.”

“They’re happy tears, I promise,” the words were catching in your throat.

“Let me take your coat, baby, Alistair’s got more to show you.”

“There’s more?”

Alistair was beaming up at you, nodding passionately.

Maxwell helped you pull yourself out of your coat, your body shaking as it failed to follow basic instruction. He trailed a hand down your spine as you attempted to get it together, wiping the tears that were already falling.

Taking your hand, Alistair showed you what else they’d done. The old tree had now taken pride of place at the end of the corridor between your rooms. There was more lights along the ceiling and the pictures on the walls had changed to winter scenes of snowfall, ice skating and carollers.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this just for me,” you smile, more tears forming.

“Well, I said about it to dad and he said he overheard us talking yesterday and felt like we should do something,” Alistair said. “Also I didn’t have any money and I couldn’t get up high so I needed some help.”

You couldn’t help hugging him again.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better surprise.”

“Really?”

“Oh, I’m going to remember this one forever.”

Alistair excitedly returned to Maxwell to pass on the good news. Of course you were going to love it, Maxwell knew you would. Luck aligned for him, there was still some money left in the budget you two had built, Mrs Zonana gave a hefty contribution and Suzanne from the other block let him and Alistair hide whilst they also played look out.

Plenty of people loved you more than you realised.

He automatically hugged you when you came back, “You good?”

“There aren’t any more surprises are there, I don’t think I can cope.”

“Not from me.”

You laugh into his chest, “Thank god.”

He ran a hand through your hair, squeezing you a little tighter before reluctantly letting you go.

“Can I have another one of those hot chocolates?”

“Sure.”

“And me,” Alistair chimed in, “please.”

The three of you rested on the couch, Alistair retelling the day and how each decoration came to be. It felt like your heart could burst, he was so overjoyed. Maxwell’s arm was draped firmly over your shoulder, chest rising and falling slowly as sleep tried to take him.

You knew you spent too long in the bathroom, you worried Maxwell may have fallen asleep before he even got chance to see your gift. It was a risk you were taking but you hoped it would pay off.

“Maxwell. Are you asleep?”

“Just resting my eyes,” his head lulled against the headboard.

“Oh because I was hoping I could give you one of your presents early.”

He opened one eye, “Really?”

You hum, fingertips playing with the tie on your fluffy dressing gown.

“Well, you’ve been such a good boy these past couple of days,” you pull open the knot, “and I think you deserve it.”

You shrug your shoulders and let the fabric fall to the floor with a light thud. Maxwell’s head snapped up, both eyes wide with the delight of seeing you dressed in nothing more than a see-through babydoll in bright red, nothing left to the imagination. Your bush freshly trimmed and nipples pert.

His smile brought the dimples to his cheeks. He leaned forward, gesturing with both hands.

“Come here.”

You saunter to the edge of the bed and he moves to you fit perfectly between his legs. His hands run up the backs of your thighs, fingers burying into your ass as he pressed his forehead to your stomach, the refreshing scent of your favourite perfume catching in his nostrils. He moved his hands to your hips before looking up at you drunkenly.

“How long have you been hiding this from me?”

You hum, biting your lip sheepishly.

Whilst in the mall, deflated from toy shopping, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, leaving Maxwell amongst the other male shoppers in the seating area. As you walked, your eyes caught something in the window of a shop.

You only treated yourself to lingerie when it was a special occasion and after the day you two were having, it called for it.

Dress up wasn’t something you and Maxwell chose to do so, even though the enthusiastic sales assistant tried, you gravitated towards the little red number you wore tonight.

“I shouldn’t have got you tipsy last night, should I?”

You cup his face in your palms.

“It didn’t help.”

Brushing aside his stray hairs, you lean down and kiss him deeply, his back straightening to attention. You both part, catching your breaths.

“So, are you one of Santa’s naughty little elves or…”

Maybe you should have got the costume. You look at him, your eyelids low as the corner of your lips curled.

“I’d much rather be Mrs Claus.”

The smile grew back on his face.

“Now it’s time for you to go back to bed.”

Maxwell happily obliged. He made sure to look at the view in detail one more time before slipping his hands off you. Pushing back on the mattress, he rested on the pillow, hands tucked behind his head.

“Are you coming to tuck me in?”

You climb on the bed and crawl over his body, your index finger trailing along his underwear where his hardening cock was becoming visible.

“Not until…”

Your faces meet and he waits in anticipation for your next line, it doesn’t come easily. You think of all the seasonal puns but they’re all ridiculous - candy cane, north or south pole, Christmas has cum early?

He breaks first, a singular laugh ruining any chance of you being a seductive Mrs Claus.

“Hard to keep up the charade?”

“Yeah,” your expression scrunches. “I don’t think ‘not getting rid of your south pole’ does what I want it to do.”

He snorts at the terminology.

“Want me to take the rein?”

You thought he was going to make some sort of sleigh ride joke but nothing came after. He calmly brushed the hair from your face, breathing and heartbeat steady, his expression soft. Maxwell didn’t usually take control but this time, he seemed so sure.

“Ok.”

Then something changed, his pupils blew a dark black.

“Turn around.”

You listened, swapping your legs over each side. His hands travel up your legs before they claw your ass apart and you instinctively arch your back to offer him a better view. His cock twitched beneath the cotton fabric.

“Wet as always.”

“Always for you.”

He hummed, glad you were facing the other way round because he could feel the temperature rise in his cheeks.

You kiss the skin above the waistband of his underwear then lick in one motion, sending a shiver along Maxwell’s spine. He returns the favour, kissing the creases that joined your legs to your butt before spreading his tongue over your folds.

You shudder, leaning back further to try and catch the tip of his nose.

He knew exactly what you were doing, “Behave.”

You grumble, pouting your lips as you glance over your shoulder. You couldn’t see much past the sight of your ass but you caught each other’s eye.

Your fingers play with the elastic before you gradually peel his underwear off, inspecting his throbbing bright tip, precum glistening. To behave would be to not take the top in your mouth and spread your tongue over but you were going to get him back for his little remark, that and you were hungry for him. Dampening your lips, you took Maxwell in your mouth, rewarded with his lengthily moan.

“Oh fuck,” he says as you take him further, “you are not behaving.”

He felt your soft laugh against him, the vibrations pleasing enough to have him creeping closer to the edge.

There was only one way to play this game.

Swallowing hard, he spreads you wider before teasing you along your outer lips, soothing with his tongue after a gentle nip. You breath with a sigh and just as he gets you into a false sense of security, he buries himself into your weeping cunt.

You pull up, Maxwell’s cock falling with a slap to his navel as you gasp and whimper.

“Put me back in your mouth, baby, I don’t want you waking up Alistair.”

You massage his balls lightly and the air hisses through his teeth, he was going to blow if you weren’t careful.

“And what about you?”

Maxwell was the most vocal lover you’d encountered. He didn’t respond, returning to your cunt with more finesse, his tongue working against your blooming clit.

You let out a choked whine before wrapping your lips around his tip and sweeping around with your tongue. You felt his groan run through every nerve ending, your walls clamping round him. Slowly you took his length into your throat and back up again, picking up the pace according to his movements.

You couldn’t tell how long the pair of you were locked like this, in this pure unadulterated bliss.

He only came up for air to sing your praises and for his final admittance, “I’m so close, baby.”

You already knew that.

His hips had bucked a few times to get his cock further into that little throat of yours, the sound of you gagging sweeter than any music. His body was tensing, his grip on your hips making them numb, he was forcing himself not to cum out of the want of making you cum first.

“This is your treat, Maxwell,” you say after releasing his cock with a pop. “How do you want me?”

“I want to watch you bounce on my dick until we both cum.”

You smile coyly, turning yourself to face him, “Now that’s some Christmas magic I can do.”

Straddling his hips, you kiss him squarely on the lips and force him to lay with his back firmly on the mattress. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you taste the tang of your arousal before pulling back, teeth nipping his bottom lip.

You lift yourself up, taking his cock in your hand as you line it up with your entrance. Eyes focusing on him, you slowly sink down, Maxwell releasing a choked gasp when just his tip slides between your folds.

His eyes flick up and down your frame as his palms trail your thighs, encouraging you to take his length.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you lower yourself, a soft hum as he fills you. His cock twitches, his head falling back, eyelashes fluttering shut as you held steady.

“Fuck,” he sighs.

You sit for a minute, inner walls pulsing as your aching pussy readjusts to the stretch of his girth. All this time together and you still hadn’t gotten used to how heavy his cock was. He feels fingertips grazing the skin of his chest and opens his eyes. You’re gazing down at him, eyelids low but he could still catch the glint in your eye.

“I thought you wanted to watch.”

Oh, he did but he fucking adored how you felt around him, he could stay like this all night if you allowed him. But you started to raise your hips, your other hand lifting the fabric to your waist so he could see the drag of your folds.

He groaned, not too loud yet not too soft, just enough for it to hit your ears.

“Like that?”

You tease as you drop back down, knocking the air out of his lungs. He can’t answer, can barely move his head because his mind is solely on your pussy around his cock. You gradually begin to pick up the pace when your legs stop protesting, the slap of your skin against his getting stronger, his fingers digging further into the flesh of you.

A squeaking moan escapes you every time you bounce from him, lips sealed together as you try to keep the volume down. You can still hear Maxwell, his hushed praises blending into his second language, his throat bulging as he tries to contain his grunts and groans.

Your walls were tightening, your hips stuttering when the tip of his cock hit somewhere new as you rolled your pelvis forward. His lips crashed into yours, swallowing the honeyed groan that came deep from your chest. He held you in place, your legs shaking with anticipation.

You could feel your arousal spilling between your thighs, preparing you for the final chase, the spark igniting low in your belly.

Maxwell coiled his arms around your waist, removing his lips from yours as he nudged his nose against your cheek. You catch your breath, fingers drawing circles over his shoulder blades before you finally looked in his big brown eyes. Always soft and sincere even though you were about to ruin him, he would happily take it.

You kiss his lips, palms moving to settle on either side of his neck. Lifting your ass a little, you let him shuffle his legs closer to boost you up before you rolled your hips.

A moan escapes you as your clit grazes the hairs above his cock. He sighs, lips parting as he focuses on your movements, your walls twitching around his aching cock. His broad palms fall from your waist and over the curve of your ass, fingers sinking into the muscle as he guides you up his length.

“That’s it,” he says breathily.

And when you get going again, you feel the tingle as it dances along your skin, your belly warming. Maxwell’s hands following as you bounce, legs locking beneath your weight.

Both of your hot and heavy breaths trickle down your flushed chest, his soft grunts seeping into your ears. Your hands trail over his outline, the shiver shooting up his spine as your fingertips tease.

His head fell forward and you pulled him close to your body, nestling his face in the crook of your neck. Keeping on hand on his back, you draw the other to his hair, the colour no longer a fake blonde. Your fingers delve into his thick roots and tug gently, the noise he makes having you close your eyes, riding his cock as fast as your ceasing legs would allow.

His hands grip tighter, his tongue so loose he can barely get the words out to warn you as his balls recede and he coats your walls. He manages to hold you down as you hiss through your teeth, body trembling as your own orgasm surges through your body.

“Shit, Max,” you choke.

Your cunt pulsates, milking him for every last drop before your muscles relax. He groans your name passionately, his body going limp, back hitting the mattress with a loud exhale.

You keep your eyes closed, your hand reaching for his chest as it rose, filling the lungs with much needed oxygen. Your legs shudder with an aftershock, his hand coming to your wrist. You blink, the room coming into focus and you catch his lopsided grin as he gazed up at you in a blissed out state.

“Best present a guy could ask for,” he chuckles.

You giggle, brushing the hair from your face with your free hand. Lifting your hips, you slide off his cock, thick white cum dribbling from your folds before you crawled up the bed to settle next to him.

He snakes an arm under your neck, across your shoulders to draw you closer to his chest. You snuggle to his frame, draping a leg in between his, hand fixed to his chest as his heartbeat slowed.

Glancing up, his eyes are already closed. You knew he was exhausted, all the rushing around, trying to give everyone the best Christmas, making up for all the ones he’d missed. All you wanted to do was tell him he didn’t have to but he wouldn’t listen.

Maxwell wouldn’t have it any other way.

When he came to in the morning, your side of the bed was empty. He could hear life outside of the door, the faint strip of sunlight breaking through the curtains. Stretching, he tried to find his t-shirt before guessing you borrowed it when Alistair came to wake someone.

In the now cramped living room, he saw you and Alistair on the couch, huddled under a blanket with mugs in your hands. The pair of you had soft smiles and were whispering to one another, you attempting to understand what was happening on the kids show you were watching. A few more presents had made an appearance under the tree, sugar cookies filling a plate on the coffee table.

“Morning,” his voice sounded groggy, vocal cords not quite ready to talk.

“Morning dad!”

“Morning, coffee’s fresh if you want some.”

Your smile grows at his arrival before he comes down and kisses you. He continues to watch you both while he wanders round the kitchen, semi listening to what was happening on the tv. Returning with a mug of coffee, Maxwell leans over and grabs a handful of cookies, met with a little groan from Alistair who had to tilt sideways to see the screen.

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers before sitting down.

You wriggle to make room as he slumps into his usual spot. After he’s got comfy, you nestle back against him and he drapes an arm over your shoulder. His lips come to the crown of your head.

“You ok?”

“Perfect,” he strokes your cheek as you drop your head back. “Feels like Christmas.”

#ww84 #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lorenzano #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord ww84 #pedro pascal fanfiction #smut #one shot #it's christmas

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sunny6677 · 3 months ago

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Taking Candy!

The Rewritten version of the Hatzgangs scene in Tender Treats for The Saturated AU. (1/2)

@mayisgoingnuts

"..why didn't you just bring a costume?"

It shows Ross asking this with a confused face, and pans to Roy who only shrugs nervously. Lila and Jaune are seen talking to someone in the background, who Lila rather rudely rolls her eyes at and just storms off afterward while Jaune follows anxiously.

"I dunno! I couldn't think of anything as to dress this year. My parents were too busy and stuff.."

..Robert furrows his brows at this, and let's out a sigh. "Whatever. We just need to get the candy for my sister, and then we can all go home. I hate having to do stuff for her."

Roy then spots something on a bench nearby. Seemingly.. just a jacket and a toy microphone. He seemingly thinks about taking it, though he's a bit hesitant. He glances toward Ross though, and gains a bit more confidence in his decision, so he goes over to take it. He takes the microphone and puts the jacket on. Proudly, he walks back over to his friends who have unamused expressions.

Roy laughs a bit as he shows it off.

Ross, blankly, goes—"..why are you wearing that?"

"For a costume!" Roy exclaims, "Don't I look like a rapper?"

Robert blinks. And then smirks. "Well, no.. you just look stupid."

Right then though, Skid and Pump begin to practically hurry past them, only doing so because they can see the three of them and don't wanna have to deal with any of them. But they don't rush past fast enough and Roy notices them. Roy grins from ear to ear, and approaches from behind them.

"Hey, kids!" Roy cheerfully says, "Where'd you get all that candy?"

The kids reluctantly turn around, and Skid just rolls his eyes. "Why the hell would you need to know?"

Roy frowns a bit. "..you seem kinda mad. Does someone need a hug—"

Ross then grabs Roy by the back of his collar without much explanation. "Ugh—Roy! Get over here!"

Roy begins to protests as Ross drags him off in the background. "Wh—What? What's the big deal?"

Ross stops dragging him, and makes him forcibly stop on the sidewalk. "Big deal? The big deal is that you keep being nice to them!"

"How's that a big deal?"

"They don't deserve any of that! Ugh.. we're gonna change your costume after this. I don't know how much longer I can stand looking at you like that."

"Mmph.. that's mean!"

"..mean? I'll show you mean.."

Their argument continues as Robert comes up to the kids with a sigh.

"Hey, kids. I don't like asking you for favors, so I'm just gonna make this quick. I kinda need some candy for my little sister. Said she needs it because she's too sick to go out. And I.. reallyyyyy don't wanna have to deal with her whining if I don't come back with anything. So, can I have some?"

"..mmm.. listen, we.. really wanna help you and stuff. But—" Pump is interrupted by Skid.

"We don't."

"..we.. reallyyyyy don't wanna help you and stuff. But we gotta go get some more candy. And we don't plan on giving you some, so—"

"Are you serious? This is like the one time I've asked for something!" Robert complains.

"Yeah—the one time you asked for something without trying to beat us up!" Skid huffs.

Robert snarls. He suddenly walks foward with a determined glare, and practically begins to force Pumps mask off of his head. Pump grunts in mild pain and defiance, while Skid tries to force Robert's hand off the mask.

"Give me the candy! Give me it!"

"Ugh—wehhh—okay, okay, fine! Jeez.."

Pump finally says this with a defeated, disgruntled frown. Robert seems to let go of Pumps mask, while Skid only shoots him a mild glare. The two then hold the box up a little more. Robert takes as much candy as he can. And when Ross and Roy come back over—Ross takes only a little bit. While Roy excitedly exclaims and takes a lot for his bag.

"If you ever say no to me again," Robert yells out sternly, "I'm gonna make you regret it!"

Pump blows a raspberry, while Skid rolls his eyes. "..yeah, yeah. Whatever."

The two then leave with visibly upset expressions.

#spooky month #robert spooky month #the hatzgang #ross spooky month #roy spooky month #skid spooky month #pump spooky month #saturated au

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hamsterbellbelle · 6 months ago

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Additional CC list for Evergreen Family Home🎦:

A.I. mirror/TV || Appliances tower/microwave/fridge/cabinet || Bar cart/beach ball/lounge chair/cooler || Bathroom counter || Bench (bedroom) || Blinds || Bookcase || Books/ Tablet PC || Books/wall lamp || Books - A - B - C - D || Bowls || Bread box ||

Card wallet || Ceiling light/outdoor table/calendar || Ceiling light || Ceiling/Floor || Chair with clothes || Coat stand || Coffee table || Computer || Conduit || Cookie (deco) || Corkboard/file holder || Cup stand/trays/kitchen rack || Curtain ||

Doors/archway || Doors || Drain || Drink crate || Entrance sign || Floor || Folded clothes || Folders/papers || Hamper (deco) || Hamper (functional) || Hamster bedding || Hamster cage/hamster cleaning tools/pet food || Handbag || Inflatable pool || Intercom ||

Kids bed/bedroom items/toys/bookshelf || Kids drawings || Kitchen trashcan || Ladder/paint can/tool box || Loveseat || Magazine || Mirror || Mirror || Paint bucket || Pet toy bin || Plant pots || Plants/dining chairs/chair with bag || Plants - A - B - C - D - E || Pots || Pouf ||

Radio || Rug (bathroom) || Rug (kitchen) || Shoes (boots)/umbrella basket/wall frames || Shoes (sandals) || Shoes/coat rack || Shoes/wall phone || Shoes || Side table (living room) || Side table (outdoor) || Sink (bathroom)/bathroom clutter/toilet paper || Sink (kitchen) || Stationery mug || Suitcases || Surge plug ||

Tissue box || Towel || Toy (bear) || Toy (unicorn) || Toys (frog) || Toy/box || TV || Wall bicycle/CD player || Wall boiler || Wall photo || Wall shelf || Wall stickers || Wallpaper/hair dryer || Washing machine/laundry items/ironing board || Water jug/paper bag || Wine bottle || XBOX One S ||

🐹 🐹 🐹 🐹 🐹

Animated magazine || Animated Maneki Neko || Archway || Suitcase || Wire ||

#sims4 #ts4 #cclist #myfinds #cc #familyhomes

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summerlycoris · 1 month ago

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Is it really a birthday party if you wake up in a hospital?

Chapter 18- I had my cake. I ate it. It ate me too.

Ao3 link- here

Chronological link- here

Well, Cassie couldn't dodge this bullet anymore. She was due to have her second appointment with Ms Tyrian. Except this time, she'd be meeting her at her home. Because Ms Tyrian was working from home- being a Friday, her kids only had a half day. So it made sense for her to be home for them.

Mom was laying some ground rules on the drive over- she had other stuff to do, so she'd be dropping Cassie off, then picking her up later.

"Be polite. Don't do anything there that you wouldn't do at home. And don't leave the house until I get there. Ring me when you're done with your appointment, okay?"

"Yes, I will."

"Good."

Mom drove into a large yard, and pulled up near a kinda rundown house. The yard was muddy dirt and scraggly wet grass, from last night's storm. Full of sun-bleached toys, and various equipment. The kind you'd find out in rural areas. Plus a huge shed out back, visible from the street. Which made sense- this house was in Virgin. Cassie hadn't expected a therapist to live in a place like this.

Cassie went to get out, grabbing her crutches. But Mom called out from the front seat. "Cassie, you're just going to slip over, or track mud through the house. I'll carry you to the porch."

That just made Cassie feel like a baby-

"No- I'll be careful. And I'll take my shoes off so I won't track mud, either." She had to go quickly, before Mom could come around and get her. Which… kinda meant putting 'careful' on the backburner. But she was up, and shutting the car door by the time Mom had gotten to her. "See? I can do it."

Mom just shook her head, and clicked her teeth. "Okay, come on then."

She got over there carefully, trying to avoid the muddier parts of the yard. With every step, her crutches and shoes would slightly sink into the ground. Which made things harder. Luckily, they didn't have far to travel before the porch. Cassie slipped off her shoes, while sitting on a little bench out front. But she couldn't do much about her crutches. "Umm…" She could feel Mom staring at her with a 'you should've listened to me' look.

"I've got some tissues in the car, hang on."

She retrieved the tissues from the glove box, and gave some to Cassie. "Thanks, Mom." She started wiping down the ends of her crutches. Mom started wiping up the soles of her shoes, which confused Cassie.

She asked why, and Mom told her. “You'll need to wear your shoes with your brace, unless you want to damage it.”

… That made sense. Sometimes, she was still surprised when she had to wear shoes.

Mom knocked on the door while Cassie put her sneakers back on.

By the time Cassie was done, the wooden door had been opened by two little girls- one blonde, one brunette. Both wearing witch costumes. They both looked the same age- maybe eight years old? The wire door was still shut. Cassie could hear a boy's voice inside, calling out about the door.

"What's the password?" Said the one on the right. The other just giggled into her hand.

"... Open sesame?" Mom suggested. Only to be met with more giggles.

"Nope! Can't come in!" Laughter now, as the girls shut the wooden door on them. Cassie could see Mom fuming, but she could hear bigger footsteps approaching.

"Gemma! Nikki! Stop driving away my clients!" There was the sound of a bunch of little feet running away, and then the wooden door opened again. This time, Ms Tyrian was there. "I'm sorry about that, Marcela. The girls can be a little mischievous."

"Oh, it's not a problem." Mom lied. Ms Tyrian didn't seem to notice, and let them in.

The house looked like a home full of kids. Toys everywhere in the living room, with the tv clearly playing some cartoon show, from the exaggerated noises. A few lounge chairs and a sofa over to the side, with a familiar boy laying on the floor reading to a young baby…

He looked up at them with a start, and yelled out "What are you doing here?! I haven't told you where I live yet!" While pointing at Cassie.

"Chris, be polite. She's here to see me."

He blushed, looking embarrassed. "It's just… sorry. Hi? Pardon the mess, um…"

"Chris- it's okay. I think your house looks cool." Because it did look cool- it may have been run down, but it looked like a family home. And Cassie liked those sorts of homes best.

"Um, okay. Thanks?" He seemed a little confused, and embarrassed, trying to hide some of the toys around him.

"Well, I just got finished with my last client." Ms Tyrian said, addressing Cassie. "Would you like to come with me? Marcela- are you waiting here or…?"

"Oh, sorry. I need to get to the shops before they start closing. Groceries wait for no one, Sophie." She joked. "I'll pick her up when she's done, she's got a phone to ring me up on."

Ms Tyrian nodded. "Well, okay then. I'll talk to you a bit later then. Cassie?" She motioned for Cassie to follow.

Cassie waved bye to her Mom, before going with Ms Tyrian. She needed to be a bit careful going through the house, because the hallway beside the living room, leading up to the office, was fairly narrow. But, it was only narrow once they got past two doors facing each other. And only because there were cupboards, and little tables along the sides. At the end of the hallway was a door, labeled ‘Mom's office- stay out unless you're on fire.’

"Nikki made that sign- she thought it was hilarious. And well… she's not wrong." Ms Tyrian sighed. As they approached the door, a teenage boy opened it quietly. A few years older than Cassie, by the looks of it. With brown hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. He started when he saw them walking towards him, then stared at Cassie.

He looked a little familiar-

"Were you sneaking around my office again? You cheeky boy- I thought you'd already gone home." She crossed her arms.

Ms Tyrian probably would've said more. Except there was a loud CRASH, and the sound of something breaking. Then a girl scream-crying, and another screaming "MAMAAAAA!"

Her face went pale, eyes wide, as she wheeled around and ran through a door near the front of the house. "What are you- oh Gemma! How did you get in here?" Cassie went to follow her, before feeling a hand on her shoulder.

She gasped- and nearly fell over, turning that quickly. It was that boy. "I'll go check- don't worry." He didn't wait for a response- just ran past her and into that room. Shutting the door behind him.

She didn't really know what to do- this wasn't her house, and she wasn't sure if Ms Tyrian would want her wandering around, even if it was to try and help. Besides, that boy was there now, too. So things should be okay?

The continuous, yet now muffled, screaming from the girls said otherwise.

“Cassie? Hey, Cassie?” She could faintly hear Chris calling out over the din, and carefully made her way back towards the living room.

Once she got there. Chris was sitting up holding the baby in his lap. He looked a bit confused. And frightened, from the way his face went even paler than usual.

“Do you know what’s going on?” He asked her.

"Uh, yeah, kinda? I think your sisters broke something and hurt themselves. Your Mom and another boy are in there, though.” she said, pointing in the rough direction.

She wasn’t sure what room it was. But he seemed to get it. He furrowed his brows a bit, and sighed. “They must’ve got into the kitchen. Mom probably left it unlocked again.” he looked back up at Cassie, while the baby fussed and tried reaching for his face.

Cassie kind of got the message- the kitchen was off limits to his sisters, and they’d hurt themselves in there. Possibly badly, from the way they were crying.

“Well, no one's yelled for an ambulance yet… your Mom and a older boy are in there with them. Is the older boy your brother?" she asked, rubbing her arm and feeling awkward.

He shook his head. "God no- I’ve got enough siblings! Sounds like Tony- he’s one of Mom’s clients, and he babysits sometimes. He must be working off the clock." he sighed, and rolled his eyes. "Well, um. Sorry again for being weird when you came over. I just wasn't expecting it at all. I didn't even know you were one of my Mom's clients."

Cassie laughed nervously. She wished shed been able to keep the fact she was seeing a shrink quiet. "Yeah, In your defense, I've only been to her once before. And that was at the hospital, so…" She changed the subject. "Is that little baby your brother? He looks really cute.”

"Oh no- my nephew. My sister's busy with schoolwork, so sometimes we look after him. His name's Danny- wanna come hold him?" he asked, holding him up slightly, so that she could grab him.

She nearly agreed, until Ms Tyrian poked her head out the (kitchen?) door. The noise of that door opening alerted Cassie, as she turned back to look at her.

The screaming had stopped, replaced with sobbing noises. "Cassie?” Ms Tyrian looked down the hallway, before seeing Cassie standing in the doorway leading to the living room. “I'm so sorry- I have to deal with this. Did you want to wait in my office? I shouldn't be long at all."

She nodded. Ms Tyrian shut the kitchen door again, and Cassie turned back to Chris. Who just clicked his tongue. "Sorry- can I come hold him afterwards?"

"Yeah, sure. He loves meeting new people- good way to socialize him, y'know? I'll see you after."

"I'll see you then." She said, before heading back into the hallway, and shutting the living room door. The office door was still open from where the boy had come through earlier.

She would've preferred to hang out with Chris, than sit there alone. But Mom had asked her to be polite.

She didn't want to cause more problems. By the looks of it, Ms Tyrian already had enough on her plate.

Ms Tyrian's home office was small, kinda cozy. With a filing cabinet and a full bookcase against the wall to her right. There was a computer on her desk, pressed against the left wall. And in the middle of the room were two chairs, facing each other with a rug in between. One chair was a couch, and the other was a lounge chair. The lounge chair was probably Ms Tyrian’s, so Cassie went and took a seat on the couch.

She waited for a bit, just looking around, until she decided to send some texts to Lawrence and Siobhan.

After a while, Cassie got distracted by the door creaking open. She put away her phone, and looked up at it- that boy from earlier was back. His eyes went wide as he saw her. "Um- hi? I'm allowed to be here." He said.

Well, that's suspicious. "Uh-huh. Sure you are."

He grinned sheepishly at her. "I am actually! Kind of… Ms Tyrian lets me hang around sometimes, to read the books." He pointed to the bookcase. "She doesn't want me hanging around all the time- it'd interfere with her job. But she's busy right now… do you mind me being here?"

"No, I don't. Just as long as you aren't setting up any secret cameras or something." She teased.

He laughed and shut the door behind him. "Oh no, don't worry- I'd never do that… or at least, I'd never be caught doing that." He joked, with a wink.

She couldn't help but laugh. He looked at her, a bit pensively. "Y'know, you look familiar… are you Cassie Oliveira?

That took her back. "Um, yeah, I am. Do I know you from somewhere…?"

He nodded, and went over to the bookshelf. "Yeah- from Greg's thirteenth birthday. You were there- he introduced you as a family friend."

That jabbed a shard of glass right into her heart. She'd thought he couldn't have hurt her anymore. "Family friend…"

Shows how much he thought of me.

His shoulders slumped, as he leant against the bookshelf, looking at her, arms crossed. "I'm guessing, from that, that you, uhh… have a complicated history with him?

She bit the inside of her cheek and looked at her lap. She didn't want to get into this. "Yeah. Guess you could say that."

He sighed. She looked up at him. He looked… relieved? What- "to be honest, I… get that. I have a bit of a complicated history with him, too." He looked at her confused look, then slapped himself in the face. "I haven't even introduced myself properly- you must think I'm a weirdo! My name's Tony Becker. I… used to be one of Greg's friends? Like I said, it's… complicated."

Used to?

Cassie relaxed a little. "Do you want to sit down for a bit? I don't think Ms Tyrian's gonna be here for a while." The crying had stopped. But that didn't mean whatever she had to ‘deal with’ was over.

He nodded, and sat down on the couch beside her. Moving the crutches that had leant up against that side, so he didn't knock them over.

For what felt like a while, neither of them knew what to say. Cassie chewed on her cheek, and Tony picked at a loose thread in his turtleneck sweater.

"We used to go to the same school. Probably still would've, if, y'know... We would work on projects together, and hang out after school."

"His Mom was my Mom's old college roommate. They'd been friends since forever. It just made sense we would be too. And we were. I think? I thought we were best friends. But best friends don't…" try to kill their best friends by cutting the elevator cables.

He stopped picking at his sweater for a bit, and pointed at Cassie's leg. "Did he do that to you?"

Her eyes went wide. Had she said too much? How does he know? She opened her mouth to ask him, but he interrupted- "I'm asking because, it wouldn't be the first time he's hurt a 'friend'." He pulled the turtleneck down, showing a faint, thin scar on his neck.

And her mind whirled in place. Like a wheel stuck in mud. She was sure her jaw had dropped. What could she possibly say to that? Because it was obvious what that line meant- Gregory tried to slit his throat? What the fuck?

That was… so much more personal than cutting an elevator's cables. You could drop someone's elevator, and never even hear them scream. But to cut someone's throat- that's a whole different kettle of fish.

It left her wondering if she really knew Gregory at all.

"I'm sorry for scaring you like that. Did you want me to stop talking about this?" Tony asked, letting the turtleneck slip back up. That helped bring her back to earth.

"No, you're not scaring me. It's just- that doesn't even make sense. What he did to me- there was some logic behind it." He didn't want to let that monster out. That monster that killed Janet. That nearly killed Andy and her friends. That nearly killed me. "That logic wasn't sound- it got out anyway-"

She stopped, and realized that Tony looked completely confused.

"... How about I start at the start?"

________

She told him everything. V.A.N.N.I Mask. AR world. Killer robot. Being tricked by the killer robot. Best friend. Betrayal. Two weeks under sedation. Six weeks of trying to get back any semblance of her normal life. Janet. Guilt. Anger.

"Like I said, the logic wasn't even sound. The monster just climbed through the fallen elevator to get out. So it didn't even matter. He didn't have to drop the elevator. He could have let me out. Maybe we could have done something about it, I don't know. But he didn't. He didn't…"

They'd gotten closer on the couch without Cassie realizing it. Until he wrapped her in a hug. "God, I don't know what to say to that…"

She didn't know what to say either. She just hugged him back. It felt like the world was hanging upside down- any minute now, everything she thought she'd known would fall away.

"... What I don't get is why he'd do that to you." She said.

He let go of her, and looked sheepish again. "Yeah- there was a weird logic behind what happened to me too. I was snooping around, trying to figure out something about the Pizzaplex. I ended up getting too close to unraveling something he was trying to hide. And that's when he tried to take me out. He invited me there, and we stayed later than usual- I lost track of time. He said he'd show me what was really going on…" Tony laughed, bitterly.

"He certainly did! First, he kept asking me to see Freddy with him. But I'd been suspicious of that bear earlier, so I refused. Then… he must've gotten desperate. He invited me into a weird little room, and… went for plan B." He looked down into his lap, Cassie just listened patiently. He'd listened to her, after all. “He tried to slit my throat first, then…” he looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. “But it… none of it worked out for him. Things got really blurry. But I got away- he wasn't strong enough to do it I guess? I don't think he was expecting me to fight back. I had to sneak around, it seemed like every one of the performers was looking for me. By the time I got out to the entrance, it had locked down for the night. And all the staff had gone home." He went back to fidgeting with that loose thread.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" She asked. "He could've been brought to justice- and 'my friend tried to kill me because I was too nosy' is a lot more believable than 'my friend cut the elevator cables to keep a terminator-thing down in the sinkhole'!" She just couldn't believe it- this could've been prevented. If Gregory was in Juvie, she'd have had no reason to believe he was at the pizzaplex in the first place!

She could've just stayed home and sorted out what movies she'd watch with Mom the next day-

He withdrew a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's… it wasn't that simple. Like I said… It's complicated. Ms Tyrian should be back soon- I'll grab that book and get out of your hair-" Tony stood up, and went to go towards the bookshelf. But Cassie reached out, grabbing him by the wrist. He tensed up under that touch, and looked a little… Scared? Guilty? when he turned back to her.

There was a surge of guilt through her- he'd opened up to me- and now he thinks I'm judging him because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be weird about it. It's just… a lot to take in. I don't blame you." He relaxed a little, and she let him go. He didn't make any moves to leave, this time. "The Pizzaplex was closed- How'd you get away?"

Tony sat back down next to her, and said- "I didn't get away."

________

It was over. All over now.

He'd been caught. Now he was staring up into Monty's green snout, as he leered over him. Or were there three Monty’s? Vision blurry and spinning. Sirens blaring in his ears. Everything hurt.

After a whole evening of narrowly avoiding attempted murder by his ‘friend’. Then animatronics, stalking him through every room. Then, a creepy bunny girl with a knife… he had nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

The fire escape wouldn't open, no matter how hard he had wrenched at the doors. And he couldn't find any other way out of this awful place. It was only three am. In desperation, he'd come here. And it had been a mistake- such a mistake- And this camera- The stupid freaking camera didn't work. Not on Monty-

And he couldn't keep running. He wasn't gonna make it until the doors opened again- He was gonna die, with the only evidence of tonight being a blurry photo of Monty, slamming Tony into the ground. Disorientating him. Making his entire head spin and ache. Leaving bruises on his neck and back to join the cut from earlier. The shallow cut on his neck that had still bled down to his shirt collar. Only stopping when he found a bandage. Cuts through his shirt on his belly, and more cuts on his arms and hands from when he tried to grab the knife.

And the sirens blared. It felt like they would never stop.

All those painful memories in his head. Memories that would all be gone soon. All he could do was shake in fear, still laying where Monty had thrown him down. Panicked gasps, his left hand clinging to the carpet. Right hand holding that stupid camera. Because what else could he do? He wasn't going anywhere.

There was a soft sound of footsteps near him. Human footsteps. He looked over, and sobbed. Of course he was here. But without Freddy, this time. Instead, he had the white rabbit as his backup. She had a large knife in one paw.

Monty, his ‘friend’, and creepy bunny-lady. The whole menagerie was here!

If they're going to kill me, I don't want to go out begging. I want to be brave. I want to be brave-

He wiped the tears from his eyes, and tried to look determined, forcing himself to sit up. But he couldn't stop shaking.

"... Why do you always leave me to clean up your messes?" The bunny-lady asked, stretching her arms into the air, standing behind Greg.

Greg just rolled his eyes, and looked back at her. He had been walking gingerly, and had a hand pressed against his ribcage. It must've been from where Tony had fought back, trying to get away earlier. "I dunno, because I'm just a kid? Besides, you're the one with a real knife. That utility knife was useless…"

She walked over to Tony with a forced-sounding giggle. The lights in Monty Golf shone awfully off the knife-edge. She knelt down in front of him. Sirens still blaring in his ears. Some from Monty Golf. Some from this bunny. She had something with her- like Greg- that disrupted modern technology. Her big, red eyes piercing his-

She stared at him for what felt like forever. As he fought not to sob, or cry, or beg for his life.

Instead, he lifted his camera. And caught her. The whole reason he'd wanted that camera- because there was a weird bunny-lady chasing him, who couldn't be seen on the security cameras. He wanted proof that she existed-

The picture printed- with her face on it. Greg was visible in the background, with a look of surprise on his face. Tony felt a bitter sense of accomplishment.

Until the bunny-lady grabbed him by the throat. Tony could feel her fingers, through her suit and his bandage. Strangling him in the same places Monty's claws had grabbed him earlier. Pressing her palm into the scabbed line. "Well, aren't you cute?" She wrestled him back to the floor as he gasped uselessly for air. He could hear the muffled clatter of something hitting the carpet.

Her knife? His camera? Both?

He wished he could lie and say he'd put up a good fight. But she was heavier than him, and bigger than him. It wasn't a fair fight. Kicking- punching- none of it seemed to do anything. He couldn't find any strength to put into it- his vision went black-

He could hear himself whimper in pain as she let go of his throat, rolled him onto his belly, and pulled his arms behind his back. There was a pressure around his wrists- something plastic-feeling- zip-ties? He tried to move, but her knee was pressed down into the back of his rib-cage. He could only catch shallow breaths that made him feel lightheaded. Or maybe he'd always been lightheaded? His throat hurt so much. The alarms continued-

"For fucks sake Monty, would you go disable that noise?!" He could hear Greg whine. Nothing else was said, as Tony heard heavy metal feet stomp away.

He buried his face into the carpet, trying to get his breath back as she… rubbed her paw through his hair? Was she… trying to comfort him? What the hell-

"What are you gonna do to me?" He asked in a raspy voice. Because he should've been dead by now- she had a knife. She could've easily finished the job.

"I’m still thinking, sweetie. There are other options for you…"

"Really, Vanny? Why don’t you just cut to the chase, and cut him up!"

"Because that’d be a waste. He's that wannabe-reporter you've been complaining about?" Tony couldn't see what happened, and couldn't hear anything said, either. "Well, then he has some useful skills. Haven't you learnt by now- what you're doing isn't working. We need to… change our approach."

This made Tony's brain work fast. Because what Greg had been "doing" was murder. Maybe the bunny lady would take mercy on him?

Or maybe she'd do something worse.

More silence. "He's got that rebellious streak. I can tell. We could really get something out of him…" she grabbed his hair, and pulled his head up. Sending a jolt of pain up his already injured back and neck. He cried out-

"Just do it- kill me already!"

He didn't want to be tortured into silence. He'd already been tortured enough.

And she laughed. In her harsh, electronic voice. "Sorry, sweetie. I've got another idea." She let go of his hair, and got off him. Letting his head fall to the ground. He caught a few deep breaths, and tried to get the world to stop spinning. But he couldn't rest for long- she flipped him onto his back, trapping his wrists underneath him. She sat him up by grabbing his shoulders. Holding him steady as he wobbled in place.

The whole world spun around him and the bunny-girl. Like a merry-go-round. And she stared him in his eyes. Again.

"How about this? You play a game with me? You play a game, and if you win, you get to go home. If you lose, you help us. But if you do win, you gotta be good and stop messing with us. Doesn't that sound fun?"

Greg was grinning behind her. Barely containing his laughter. Like he was in on some joke that Tony wasn't. Holding that picture in his hand.

And this whole deal seemed off to Tony- wasn't she scared of being exposed? Of people realizing what was going on here?"

Maybe she thought he'd be scared into silence? If she thought that, she thought wrong… but he could take advantage of that.

He played it up- the scared kid look. Puppy eyes, trembling lip. The works. He couldn't do it as well as Greg did, but he could still do it if he tried. "You'll really let me go? I'll be good… I'll never tell a soul…"

She stroked his cheek with her paw, making an "Aww" sound. He had to fight not to shiver under it. How many people have her hands killed? She giggled, and pulled him up, standing. She grabbed his bound wrists. "Of course we will, sweetie. Now, if you'll just come with me…" As if she was asking for a favor, instead of leading onward her captured prey.

But he followed. He had no choice- her hand was around his wrists, after all.

All he could do was hope she'd stick to her words. And that he could even beat her game. It'll surely be rigged.

________

Once he'd finished telling his story, Cassie couldn't do anything but stare at him in horror.

He picked at the loose thread in his sweater, and couldn't look at her, staring at his knees. "In a way, it was rigged… but I won anyway. I got really lucky that day!” He grinned for a second, before his face fell again. “I… promised I'd drop it. They let me go. But they kept an eye on me afterwards. I had no evidence- except the cuts and bruises. The photo was destroyed. If I'd told anyone… people would've thought I was making it up. 'Help! My friend's working with a bunny-themed serial killer out of the Mega Pizzaplex- and Monty nearly killed me!' They'd tell me I'd been playing too many video games."

He laughed, and looked back up at her. "Do you know how weird it was? To have to pretend everything's okay after experiencing that? I couldn't just not have anything to do with him. Because he was Ellis's friend, too…"

"Yeah. I do know what that's like." She admitted in a whisper. "I can't tell anyone anything about Gregory without looking like I'm crazy. The only people who know what really happened to me are, well, you, and Andy. Everyone else expects me to still miss him. And I do… kind of?" She had to think for a moment. Tony waited patiently, without interrupting. "I miss the Gregory I thought I knew. The one who'd watch dumb movies with me. Or go camping with me. Or would play Fazer Blast with me. But… that Gregory… it was just a lie?"

She didn't know what else to say after that, so she just looked down at her lap. She could feel Tony edge closer to her, and put a hand on her shoulder. "That's… that's it. I couldn't put it into words before, but that's it. I miss playing dumb games, or hanging out at lunch, or calling ourselves stupid names. But the rest? I don't miss that."

She nodded, and they sat like that for a bit. He took his hand off her shoulder after a while.

"I think I've seen that rabbit lady before- was she wearing all white?" Cassie asked. He looked surprised, and nodded. "In the AR world- one of the security cameras changed to her chasing Gregory. But that footage didn't play in the real world. Maybe… she's the reason he went missing?"

"That's a real possibility… Maybe he messed up, and she had to take him out?"

"Maybe she was trying to. But I don't think she succeeded. Because I saw him not too long ago- at the hospital. He'd changed his hair style and clothes, and grown a little taller. But it was clearly him. He ran away when I tried to follow him…"

Was he only there to finish the job? That thought sent a shiver up her spine.

…

She couldn't get that thought out of her head, until Tony spoke up again.

"I've had this theory for a while now- no proof, though- that maybe… maybe there were two Greg's?"

She just looked at him. "Gregory's an only child. He definitely doesn't have an evil identical twin, if that's what you mean-"

"No, not quite." His eyes locked onto hers, looking intense. Like he was looking through her. A shiver went up Cassie's spine. "I'm thinking more like… a split personality? Or maybe mind control- maybe both- ever watched Spirited Away?"

She nodded. "You're thinking he's like… Haku?"

"Perhaps.” He shrugged. “He did say he was 'the wizards most favored apprentice.' And he didn’t seem like himself that night… If he was being controlled, that would explain some things."

They pondered that for a bit. It was… a possibility. And a possibility Cassie wanted to be real. A possibility she suspected Tony wanted to be real, too, from the look in his eyes.

But mind control? If that existed, it’d be known about. The government would be using it to keep people in line. Mom would be out of the job if mind control existed. Because there’d be no reforming offenders- they’d just get stuck to the straight and narrow by force.

"You've known him for years, right?" Tony asked. She nodded, and he continued. "What do you think about this? Do you think it's a possibility for people to end up under that kind of control?"

"I… I hope you're right. Maybe? It could've happened."

But she didn’t have much hope. It just seemed like pseudoscience to her. And he must’ve seen the look on her face, because he dropped the subject.

She looked back up at him, as he changed the subject. "Y'know, Ms Tyrian knows about what happened to me. She… has had similar experiences. She's not gonna think you're crazy, even if the rest of the world would."

She hadn't realized just how much weight she'd been carrying, just with that thought. Until he said that, and she felt it all fall off. "You really think so?"

"I know so."

She thanked him, as the door into the office opened up, catching them both by surprise. Ms Tyrian must've finished helping her daughters. She leant against the door-frame, and rolled her eyes with a faint smile. "Tony, are you on fire?"

He grinned and shrunk into the couch. "Not yet, Ms Tyrian."

She crossed her arms, smile widening. "In that case, don't you have somewhere to be? You should get going, before you miss it."

"Hah, yeah. Guess I'm being a bit slack today." he replied to Ms Tyrian, then whispered to Cassie. "Newspaper club. Mom thought it'd be good for me to do it…" He stuck out his tongue, and Cassie had to keep from giggling. "It was nice to meet you again, Cassie." He stood up and quickly grabbed a book from the shelf.

From what Cassie could see of the cover, it was about… exorcisms? Or demons? It has that kind of cover-

He then went to walk out. Until Cassie yelled out "Hey Tony- wait a minute!" He did, as she staggered over to him, after fumbling with her crutches for a moment. "Do you want my number? In case you want to talk about other stuff?" She kept it vague, because she didn't want Ms Tyrian's first knowledge of her Gregory-issue being overheard in this conversation.

Tony seemed to catch on, at least. "Yeah, sure. If you give me yours, I'll text you mine, okay?"

She nodded, and gave him her number. He checked it was accurate with her, and then she got a text notification from him. Just as he said.

And there was so much relief running through her right now. That she wasn't alone. That she wasn't crazy. He left with a wave, and she turned to face Ms Tyrian.

She was looking at Cassie with a funny expression on her face. "Cassie, he is way too old for you. He'll be sixteen soon. Don't let him charm you, okay?"

"Wait, what? It's nothing like that! We just have some things in common…" She blurted out. Why does this always happen?

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding!" She laughed, putting her hands up in front of her. "Well, do you want to get started? It's been a long time since I've seen you. I'm sure you have a lot to talk about.”

Ms Tyrian took the lounge chair, leaving Cassie the couch. "I'm sorry that I'm late for your appointment, Cassie. Sometimes the kids get a bit… Well, girls will be girls, huh?" She said, shaking her head.

"I guess so. I didn't realize you were Chris's Mom. You look so… different from him."

Maybe Cassie shouldn't have said that last bit, as Ms Tyrian's eyes went downcast. "Yes. He takes a lot from his father. Luckily, only in looks." She straightened up, and looked at Cassie, holding a notebook. "But we're not here to talk about my family- we're here to talk about you. I heard from your Mom you went up to Salt Lake City, for some rehab" she looked down at Cassie's leg brace, then back to her tlso, leaving her feeling a bit self conscious. "It looks like the rehab went well. Did you have fun there?"

"Uhhh, yeah. It was fine. I met a girl there. We didn't get along at first. But now we're friends? I hope we are, anyway. She said she'd like to see me again next summer break."

Ms Tyrian clapped her hands together. "Oh- that's brilliant! I'm glad you got to meet someone nice."

Cassie fidgeted a bit, stammering out. "Um, yep."

"So. How has school been treating you so far?"

Cassie fidgeted a bit before answering. "Um, it's been a learning experience? I thought my ex friends wanted to be friends again… but I think they just got curious about me. They didn’t really want to talk to me." She sighed. "But I have Lawrence, and he's introduced me to his friends, so that's nice."

Ms Tyrian nodded, and took some notes down on paper. Then she asked a few more questions about school.

Meanwhile, Cassie answered and fidgeted. For the first time in ages, she wanted to talk about Gregory. But Ms Tyrian wasn't asking that question.

"Well, it sounds like you've been doing well. I'm glad that you've been readjusting back into school without much trouble. This might be our last session- your Mom would be happy that things are turning around for you, Cassie-"

"Actually- Ms Tyrian- can I ask you something?"

“Oh- of course. What would you like to ask?”

Cassie couldn't help but fidget with her skirt. “Um, about Gregory. I… I got talking with Tony about him earlier. And Tony said you'd understand…” Ms Tyrian's face was impossible to crack. Still, like a rock. “So… would you?”

She took a few notes quickly, which didn't fill Cassie with much hope. “I strive to understand all my clients. If you're worried about me judging you, I won't.”

That… wasn't much of a confidence booster. At all. Now she just wanted to be out of there-

“I'm sorry if that sounded curt. For confidentiality reasons, I can't go into personal details about Gregory. It wouldn't be ethical. But I can listen to you- it'll just… be a more one-sided conversation than you may be expecting.”

“… ‘Confidentiality reasons?’ Have you worked with Gregory before?”

“... I cannot answer that question.”

Okay…

“... In that case, is it okay if I start from the start?”

“Of course it is.” She said, putting down her notes. Now fully paying attention.

________

It took a while to explain everything- everything she'd gone through at the Pizzaplex, everything she thought she'd known about Gregory. What she had discussed earlier with Tony.

She tried to stick to the facts, or at least what she thought was fact. It still hurt to go into the feelings- she felt a bit hypocritical because she'd just bared her soul to Tony. But she’d trusted him. Even if she’d barely known him. Despite reassurances, she wasn't sure if she could trust Ms Tyrian yet.

Once she was done, she took a deep breath and sat back into the couch. Still feeling tense- she couldn't tell what Ms Tyrian was thinking.

“Tony said that you'd had experience with him too. What… What did Gregory do to you?” She asked Ms Tyrian in a rush of words.

She sighed. “Cassie- I can't go into this with you-”

“Then how does he know what you've been through?!” She blurted out.

And regretted it when a shadow fell over Ms Tyrian's eyes. Anger.

She sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose before answering. “I can't go into my other clients' details with you Cassie. All I can say is this- if you start investigating this like… certain other clients have done in the past. I will drop you and you will need to find a new therapist. My days of rewarding bad behavior are over!”

Now she just felt ashamed. Mom had asked her to be polite, and not do anything she wouldn't do at home- and she hadn't. “I'm sorry.”

Ms Tyrian sighed again, and shook her head. “No, I shouldn't have gotten so confrontational about it. I'm sorry for getting heated with you.”

Cassie didn't know what to say to that. She kind of didn't want to say anything, in case she put her foot in her mouth again.

“How about we start with your experiences- or rather, how you feel about them. You must've felt something when he cut the elevator cord.”

And she did. She had felt a lot of things after Gregory betrayed her. But she… didn't want to go into them.

She looked determinedly into her lap. And could hear Ms Tyrian’s lounge chair squeak as she stood up from it.

Then saw Ms Tyrian's shoes, from the top of her eyes. Standing in front of her. Then kneeling. Cassie looked up, to see her green eyes right there. “Oh, good. Now I can see your eyes.” Ms Tyrian said, with a slight smile.

Like she was trying to reassure Cassie that she isn't mad anymore.

“It must've been hard, thinking you were safe, only to have the rug ripped out from under you like that. How did that make you feel?” Ms Tyrian asked. Her eyes piercing Cassie’s.

She couldn't help but squirm a little. She wanted to run away. Far away. But she had crutches to use, a muddy yard to cross, and miles to walk before she got home.

“I… I…”

Ms Tyrian looked at her weirdly. “You don't need to be self-conscious. I remember you telling me about how special he was to you… about that camping trip, where he helped you dive into the lake. The fishing. The campfire. The little moments that you still remember. Those memories must've been nice at the time- but how do you feel remembering them now?”

Cassie swallowed a lump that'd been building up in her throat. And it took her a bit to find any words. And they still weren't right- “... Bad. I feel… bad.”

Ms Tyrian nodded, keeping her eyes glued to Cassie’s. “Of course you do. It's best to tell people how you feel, instead of bottling it up. So, tell me more?

Cassie’s heart was beating hard in her chest.

How did she feel about Gregory?

…

She wanted to bite him. Kick him. Pull his stupid self-cut hair. Make him cry too. Make him feel something like she did.

That was how she’d felt in the hospital.

Do I… still feel that way?

She’d had time to cool off a bit. But the ache was still in her heart, from when he’d stabbed her in it. Metaphorically, of course.

The blood didn’t flow as readily as it had. But it still trickled. Still burned.

And she couldn't forget what Tony had suggested, either. Maybe it hadn't even been the real Gregory.

(Maybe she’d never known the real Gregory.)

(That thought hurt more than knowing he'd tried to kill her.)

She felt like crying. But she didn't want to cry in front of Ms Tyrian. Instead, she just wrapped her arms around her chest.

Her eyes and nose started to get watery, as she looked back down at Ms Tyrian’s shoes.

Cassie heard the sound of movement, and those shoes walked away. Then they came back, and Ms Tyrian was touching her face with something, near her eyes.

A tissue. Dabbing at her tears.

Green eyes. Filled with concern. Staring directly at her.

She tried to say it. How she had felt. How she feels now. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Her own arms weren't a good enough hug. She felt like a wounded animal, trying to guard itself against the vet.

“It's okay to feel upset about him, Starbright. Do you want a hug?”

And her arms were open. Waiting for Cassie. Damp tissue held in one hand.

Cassie let go of herself, and broke down into Ms Tyrian’s arms. Sobbing against her shoulder, as she patted her back. “There, there, Cassie. You'll be okay…”

She didn't feel like she would ever be okay again.

________

It had been a very… enlightening talk, once she’d calmed down enough to talk.

Afterwards, while she was waiting for Mom, Cassie went back to the living room to see Chris and Danny again.

They were now playing with a little baby play-set. The kind where the baby's on their back, and there's jingly toys above them. Chris was now on his belly, smiling and shaking around the toys while Danny squealed with excitement, and tried to bat his hands at them.

Chris hadn't seen her yet, so she got to watch them play for a little bit. It was… cute? That was a word she would've never thought Chris could be.

Eventually, he turned his head and caught her. Blushing furiously. "Hey- don't just stand there and stare at me!" He said, brow furrowed, and the smile now gone.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Cassie said quickly. He rolled his eyes, and now Cassie wasn't sure if she was still invited to hang out with him-

"Well? What are you waiting for? We can't come to you- so come here!" He waved her over.

She clicked her teeth and rolled her eyes, before going over to him to sit cross-legged near Chris. She had to lean on the nearby coffee table, to have any luck with getting down that low. Meanwhile, he sat himself up slowly. Pushing himself up into a strange sitting position, with his legs splayed around him. Like he’d been sat earlier, now she thought about it.

Danny kept eyes locked on Chris, and Chris muttered "I'm setting a bad example for you, you should watch how Cassie does it- not me." He turned to Cassie. "Speaking of, this is Cassie. She's a friend of my friend."

She crinkled her face at that. He wasn't exactly wrong… but it felt strange to say it like that.

He caught her expression out of the corner of his eye, and slightly amended it. "Well, okay. She's an acquaintance of mine, because we haven't known each other for very long yet."

… That was a bit nicer. It left open the opportunity to become friends, at a later date.

"Anyway, you said earlier I could hold him. Is that still okay?" She asked.

Chris nodded. “Do you know how to hold a baby?”

She nodded, and reached out to pick up Danny. Making sure to support his head. He was so tiny. She was kind of scared she'd drop him.

"He's about six months old. He's doing well, he can roll over all by himself now."

Danny reached out to tap Cassie's face. But he kinda missed and put his hand on her mouth instead. Her mouth felt all slimy. She backed up a bit, so the hand could fall away, then she wiped her mouth with her sleeve

"Good idea. He'd been chewing on his hands earlier."

"... Thanks for the heads up." She said, sarcastically.

For a little while, they just played with Danny. Wiggling their fingers near him, for him to try and bat with his little hands. Until Chris asked Cassie- "I saw Tony slinking out the front door earlier. He wasn't trying to snoop on your session, was he?"

She shook her head. "Oh no! We were having a chat, while your Mom helped out your sisters. He, um. Helped me out with some things." Cassie didn't want to go into detail. She'd had enough of baring her soul for one day.

Chris didn't pry. Even though he must still be able to see the puffiness around my eyes. But he did make a suggestion. "You be careful with that guy, Cassie. He's got a silver tongue. Very good at getting people to say what he wants them to say- and what he wants them to say is too much."

Cassie scowled a bit and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure Chris. Maybe he's just nice? Not everyone's like you, y'know?"

Chris threw his hands up, besides his head. Palms spread wide. "Don't get me wrong! He's nice. I like talking to him sometimes. And I wouldn't let him near my sisters if he wasn't nice… but he's stubborn, and pushy. He could get a fish to admit to dancing the tango. If you remember that, you'll have a better time with him."

She clicked her teeth again, and put Danny back down. Honestly, she felt like that description better fit his Mom… but she couldn't exactly say that. She could hear a car pull up out-front. It sounded like her Mom's car.

She didn't want to leave Chris on a bad note.

"I'll remember that for next time I talk to him, thank you for the heads up. Hey- I'll see you at school on Monday?"

"Yeah, I'll see you there. Thanks for playing with Danny." He waved her goodbye and she waved back, as Cassie heard her Mom knock on the door. When Cassie stood up and turned around, grabbing her crutches, she could see Mom through the window.

"Ms Tyrian- Mom's here. I'll see you next time!" She yelled out. Hearing a distant goodbye back.

She went out, and went home with Mom.

********

Author's note. Yes. I know Vanny can be seen on the cameras in Security Breach. And even that one camera in Ruin. But the therapy tapes imply she is not visible, at least, not properly. Fifth therapist can kind of see Vanny. But not really. The footage is blurred. Also, it makes sense for Vanny to not be visible story wise- otherwise, if Vanessa would have to delete any footage showing Vanny frolicking around anyway, she wouldn't need a costume at all. (Though, regardless of whether Vanny is visible, footage would need to be deleted of at least the murder of the kids. Otherwise someone would find out immediately after reviewing the footage.) Ruin cam is. Not actually something that happened. Vanny never chased Gregory through the bakery. I think it's just The Mimic playing tricks on Cassie lmao.

I think Vanny being visible on cams in Security Breach is, like a lot of things in SB, just a case of gameplay and story segregation. Pretty sure Chica, Monty, and Roxy aren't supposed to possess the power of teleportation, either. But they do in game, because that was just how they coded them to be dangerous.

(Well. Maybe Chica's supposed to teleport. I'm a possessed Chica truther.)

I couldn't find anything online about whether someone wearing a kafo brace can sit crossed legged. I imagine its possible- but probably not super comfortable for very long. If you wear one, and know if its possible or not, please let me know. I'm trying to be accurate, but I cant always find answers. I know people wearing afo can w-sit from experience, but that doesn't really help with this case.

Also, for anyone confused about why Cassie doesn't consider Lawrence as someone in the know about her- she told him about the weird robot who tried to kill her, and who killed Janet. She didn't have to explain Gregory then, so she didn't. Andy and Tony are the only ones who know about Gregory and the elevator.

Also also- Poor Tony. He tried to camera-cancel Monty post patch. Press F to pay respects.

Song title is from Penelope Scott’s Feel Better.

Bit of a hiatus now until i complete chapters 19, 21, and 22, like I've mentioned previously. 19 and 21 are halfway done- but 22 still needs a bit of work. We'll be back soon enough!

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf fanfic #cassie fnaf #fnaf cassie #tony becker #is it really a birthday party fanfic #summerly writes #wow only *checks notes* 18 chapters in and I can add a different character tag!

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