#Last new year with the light installations around the city was pulling in BIG crowds

[socialpants]

Amma elaborate for those asking why and how and wtf: - The pictures are indeed of central Helsinki, capital of Finland (as per the photographer 10am on a Saturday) - the time is a big factor here as 10am on a Saturday is prime time for people sleeping late and/or curing their hangover. Before 10am on a weekend is a good time to take a morning walk if you want to experience both peace and quiet, but also do that in an urban setting. Most of Finland still runs on a 5 days on-2 days off schedule, with busy hours hitting around 6-9am and 3-5pm on weekdays, and 11am to 5pm, then 8pm to 1am on weekends. (there are 24/7 grocery stores but we're not really a 24/7 culture). Holidays and events make slight exceptions. - there's little over 5 million people in the entire country. 1 million of those in the combined area of 3 major cities; Helsinki-Espoo-Vantaa. There's going to be... space. - "Whatabout the homeless and the gangs?!" There are, as of 2023, about 3,5K homeless people in the entire country. That number encompasses people who technically have a place to stay but don't have a permanent address (so they're not sleeping rough outside), people living with their relatives and friends, or in a temporary emergency housing, or in a trailer encampment. If you find yourself in a situation where you truly have no friend or a relative or a permanent safe housing, usually the city will provide for you a place within a few days if not immediately. It's fairly difficult to find yourself without any housing options, though those state provided options don't come entirely without strings attached. Gangs? Rumour has it there are gangs. But the place where the picture is taken is not one of their hang out spots. You rarely see gang activity in daylight, nor in the middle of Helsinki. Some people would like to think they consistently see gang activity in the location of the left image (the central rail way station), but in reality that's mostly where teens and young adults like to meet up, it's a traffic hub for the trains, the subway, buses, trams, and taxis, and the "gang" activity you see that's legitimately connected to crime is most often older Finns with substance abuse issues getting together in the bushes outside the place. In the Summer. So the criminal activity of the place drops drastically for the other 3 seasons. - And it's just like people like their homes, it's cold outside, and commercial stuff has certain opening hours so there's legitimately very little reason to just hang out in the main public spaces if nothing is open and it's not Summer.

This may be an urban legend and I will preface this by saying that I don't even remember where I heard it, but going to bigger cities in Finland always reminds me of it nonetheless, so I'm telling you now.

There was a student group from either China or Korea - I can't recall which one, but Asian nonetheless - who were in student exchange to Finland, in Helsinki. The finnish hosts did their best to make them feel welcome, touring them around the city on the first day out and about, but they noticed the asian students seeming uneased by something. Not in a way of just being timid about being in a foreign country, but glancing at each other like something was off, and looking at each other with this air of "you're seeing it too, right?" but none of them wanted to be the first to bring it up to their finnish hosts. Both cultures are the high-context type, so they had clearly concluded that since the finns didn't point out the obvious unpromptedly, the subject might be too sensitive to talk about.

Eventually one of the exchange students decided to brave against this potential taboo, and delicately asked: "has something... Happened here?" And there was mutual surprise when the finns had no clue what they were talking about. This was pre-covid, nothing bad had happened there. And one of the exchange students - who still weren't sure whether they're breaching a taboo of something One Does Not Talk About - bravely elaborated. The streets are empty. It's eerie. They're in the central of the capital city and the streets are almost deserted. Has there been some calamity? A plague, an earthquake, have the people fled or been evacuated somewhere? Is it safe to even be here?

And they were just as baffled when the finnish hosts confirmed that no, this is a normal amount of people to see on the street on a normal day. Finland just looks like this. And for the sake of clarity, this is what Helsinki city centre looks like on a normal saturday morning at 10 am:

Both pictures taken by me, this morning.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 2 - First Impressions [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback to the first chapter my loves ! ❤ Here’s chapter 2, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Word Count: 2500

Warnings: Mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language.

Summary: First impressions can be wrong.

Chapter 1 

Being a spy for years had taught you to be able to tell whether a mission would be dangerous or not before they even sent you there.

For example, the mission they had put you on three years ago where you had to poison the target in a very crowded ballroom while pretending to be an artifacts expert was a dangerous one.

Or five years ago when you had quite literally brought a dagger into a gun fight in a storage unit, that was also quite dangerous.

But something told you that going after Bucky Barnes would be the most dangerous mission you’d ever had so far, and you weren’t even going to be engaged in a fight.

Instead you were expected to make him fall in love with you, which-

To be honest, engaging in a fight would’ve been much easier.

“This is unacceptable.” Your best friend paced in the empty conference room while you nibbled on the chocolate, keeping your eyes on your phone. “You should’ve said no.”

“I can’t say no, it’s a mission.”

“No, it’s my father treating you like a—like a—“ she threw her hands up, “Honey trap!”

You shrugged your shoulders, scrolling down on the screen but then looked up when she snapped her fingers in front of your eyes.

“Y/N!”

“Chloe if I nail this mission, I’ll get the position I want. I could be a handler next year, do you know how big that is?”

“You need to stop pretending like you’re fine with this.”

“You’re sending me the files tonight right?” you asked, ignoring her huff of impatience and she sat down, crossing her arms.

“Yes,” she said, “Everything there is to know about Bucky Barnes is in there, lots of things you could use. I gathered it myself. His past, his interests back then, what he has been doing since he got here, his favorite porn, his favorite musicians—“

“I’m sorry, what was that last one?”

“His favorite musicians?” she played dumb, grinning and you shifted your weight.

“You wouldn’t do that background check on me, would you?”

Her grin widened as she wiggled her brows, “Just so you know, you’re such a cliché.”

“Jesus Christ.” You slipped a little in your seat, your cheeks burning, “I hate you so much.”

“No you don’t,” she sang and you tried to focus on the screen, but the door to the conference room opened, gathering your attention. Your jaw dropped as soon as you saw the figure stepping inside and you jumped on your feet as Chloe gasped.

“Keith?”

Keith was the third member of your small friend group. He was a field agent just like you were, and for years you, Chloe and Keith had always had each other’s backs, in or outside of missions.

Back at the academy you were inseparable and it had been months since you had last seen him.

“Figured I’d find you two here,” he said, “I just followed the scent of despair.”

“I thought you were still in Prague!” You rushed to hug him and he ruffled your hair before you batted his hand away.

“I was but I got called in at 5 in the morning. General’s orders.”

“It was about time my father did something right.” Chloe came to kiss his cheek, making him grin, “Gosh, it’s so good to have you back!”

“Good to be back, gorgeous,” he lifted her up in a hug before setting her down as she squealed, “I missed you.”

Your jaw dropped when you saw the file in his hand, “Hold on. Is that what I think it is?”

“It could be,” he told you, “That is, if you’ll have me in your mission.”

“The best news I got since I landed.” You pumped your fist in the air “Yes! Yes I do want you in the mission!”

“So then,” he said as he sat beside you and put his feet up on the table while you leaned back, “Is what I heard true?”

“Yes and you need to tell her she’s being ridiculous,” Chloe motioned at you and Keith pursed his lips.

“I just thought we put this whole honey trap thing behind us back in 1950s.”

“Exactly!”

“Guys come on, if Accords pass—screw that, even if they don’t pass, think about how we can use Barnes.”

Keith clicked his tongue, tilting his head.

“Will we use him more than we’re using you right now?” he asked and you rolled your eyes, grabbing the file in his hand.

“Your alias is Whistler this time?”

“Yep,” he nodded, “General says yours is Shrike?”

“Mm hm.”

“Considering what this Barnes mission entails, I’m surprised he didn’t call you Swallow.”

You kicked at his boot and he let out a laugh, holding his hands up.

“What? That was the terminology back in the day for agents seducing people for the mission, wasn’t it? Raven for guys, swallow for girls.”

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned and Chloe sat on the table, still pouting.

“You’re both fine with this then?”

“Chloe, the guy was around in World War 2,” you said patiently, “If I don’t want to sleep with him, I’ll just tell him I’m waiting for marriage, it’s probably not a foreign concept for him, old times and all. Happy?”

She arched a brow, “If you say so,” she said, “But you know there are examples of undercover agents falling for their targets, right? Especially in situations like these.”

Keith chuckled, “Yeah, that’d make a great story for your grandchildren.”

“Except that I wouldn’t get to have those grandchildren because I’d be killed.”

“Don’t say that!”

“Just let me know beforehand if the Winter Soldier decides to make an honest woman out of you,” Keith said and you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Look at you, making jokes.”

“I’m a funny guy, thank you very much,” he said, “So what are we doing tonight?”

“Killing some Hydra scum,” you said, “There’s this gallery opening, apparently evil guys love art nowadays. Who knew?”

“You need a spotter?”

“Sure thing.”

“After you guys are done killing that target, can we hang out?” Chloe asked, “We need to catch up.”

“Only if I get to pick the movie,” Keith made a face, “I don’t trust your taste after the last time.”

“10 Things I Hate About You is a classic!”

“Do you want to hear the one thing I hate about you, Chloe? Spoiler, it’s your taste in movies.”

“Play nice, kids,” you said, skimming the lines on the screen and Chloe huffed.

“Fine. And after that, we can work on the seduction mission.”

“You’re in on that as well?” Keith asked and Chloe nodded.

“Duh.”

“Look at us, Charlie’s Angels is back.” Keith said, “Wait, does that mean General is Charlie?”

You supressed a laugh and shook your head fondly, looking at Keith.

“I missed you, asshole.”

“Missed you too, trouble.”

                                                       ***

Working for the division you did had its advantages, and it never stopped to surprise you how you could always get the newest gadgets before going on missions. Chloe had installed certain features into your “sniper costume” as she put it, and one of them was a ring that would call the nearby agents of your team to your location, and the other one was a ski mask that was both bulletproof and could change your voice.

“Batman does it, why not you?” she had said before making you try it.

“Shrike, ma’am?” Keith’s voice echoed in your ear and you adjusted your earpiece before checking the harness around your waist, just in case you needed to jump off the building. Your team was already in position if you were in any way compromised, and you started setting your sniper rifle.

“Since when do you call me ma’am?” you asked Keith and he chuckled.

“Since they put you in charge of a team.”

“Don���t listen to him, guys,” you said to the rest of the team and took a look at the city lights, taking a deep breath.

Rooftops were always peaceful, even when you were holding a sniper rifle.

“ETA of the target?”

“Two minutes.” Keith said and you pressed your lips together, pointing the rifle at the entrance of the gallery, looking through the scope.

“So I think I found a movie for tonight,” Keith said as you shook your head slightly, trying to focus.

“Later.”

“James Bond?” he asked, “We can take a shot every time the movie gets something wrong about being a spy. We’ll probably be hammered by the end of the night.”

“One minute, Shrike.” One of the agents said and you exhaled through your mouth, your finger on the trigger.

“No seriously, don’t you guys like James Bond? I think it’s because of that movie I chose this line of work, but—“ Keith was cut off when you pulled the earpiece out of your ear to have a moment of silence so that you could concentrate when the target arrived, but as soon as you grabbed the rifle again, you heard the familiar sound of someone racking the slide of a gun, followed by a calm voice.

“Easy there,” he said, “Put the rifle down.”

You cursed at yourself in your head, then withdrew your hands from the rifle. Your earpiece was off, meaning that no one in your team could hear you, and you checked whether you could grab the gun from him, but he wasn’t standing close enough.

Professional.

You held up your hands, then slowly turned to see who was threatening you before your heart dropped to your stomach.

Damn it.

This was definitely not the way you were supposed to meet Bucky Barnes.

Thankfully you were wearing a ski mask, so your identity wouldn’t be compromised and the next time you met him, you could pretend.

And he would be none the wiser.

You pressed on the ring Chloe had given you to alert the others, keeping your eyes on the barrel of the gun.

“I thought I saw a glimpse of a scope.”

“Congratulations,” you deadpanned, trying to stall so that your team could get there, “You want a watch as a prize? A refrigerator?”

He looked almost surprised at your snarky comment and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Listen, it’s my target. So if you want to kill him, too bad. I was here first, early bird and all that, shoo.”

Even you could see his confusion that lasted for a second and a small smile pulled at your lips.

“Ah. You don’t know who my target is.”

“I know I’m not going to let you kill someone in a pretty crowded gallery.”

“Even if it’s some Hydra scum?” you asked and he pulled back.

“What?”

You stole a look at the entrance of the gallery over your shoulder as the limo pulled over.

“Mm hm. You really shouldn’t be stopping me Barnes. We got this, you can go and play the superhero with Wilson.”

“You know who I am.”

“Everyone knows who you are,” you stated, making him pause for a moment.

“I didn’t catch your name.”

You tut tutted, “Don’t be greedy.”

“Well, how do I know you’re not lying about your target if you can’t even give me your name?”

“Why would I lie about my target?”

“So that I would let you shoot him.”

“Aw, you’re cute,” you taunted him, tilting your head, “But I don’t recall asking for your permission.”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds.

“Who are you?” he asked and you grinned as you heard the footsteps coming closer.

“Until next time, soldier.” You said as the team burst through the door, guns blazing. He turned around to point his gun at the agents, immediately taking cover as you picked up the rifle again.

It was time to get back to work.

You looked through the scope, found the target and pulled the trigger, blood splattering over the walls and chaos erupted over the street instantly, people screaming and running everywhere. You looked over your shoulder to see your team managing to keep Barnes busy with the constant gunshots, then you checked the harness around your waist again and jumped over the roof to land on top of the car waiting for you in the street. The rope went up to the roof as you unbuckled it and got into the car, pulling the ski mask off your face.

“You weren’t compromised, right?” Keith asked and you shook your head.

“I’m not an amateur,” you said as he stepped on the gas, the car breezing through the road. 

“You don’t look so happy,” Keith said after taking a look at you and you pursed your lips together, deep in thought.

“He didn’t take me hostage.”

“Hm?”

“When the team burst through the door and I turned around to kill the target. He’s a super soldier, he could’ve grabbed me, use me as a leverage to get out of there. That’s what I’d do but he didn’t attack me or the team, he took cover.”

“So?”

“Keith, it’s the fucking Winter Soldier we’re talking about. He can kill a team of agents in seconds, but I bet he just got out of there. Without hurting anyone.”

“Maybe he’s just a good person.” Keith chuckled and you slipped a little in the seat, biting at your fingernails.

“I guess.”

“Would it be so bad?”

“It would make no difference,” you muttered, keeping your eyes on the city lights, “Good person or not, he’s my mission.”

“Clearly, but aren’t you going to feel just a little guilty if he ends up being a good guy?”

You scoffed a laugh and turned to him.

“I’m no use to anyone if I develop a guilty conscience,” you stated, “Much less to myself. You know that.”

A silence fell upon the car before he heaved a sigh.

“Listen, Chloe has a point as always,” he said, “These kind of missions are hard, okay? The longer you’re playing your part, the easier it will be to believe it. Feelings get involved, there are bunch of agents who ended up hesitating when it was time to bring their target in, so if you—“

“I won’t hesitate.”

“Y/N.”

“I won’t hesitate,” you repeated, “I swear. The minute this mission is over, I’ll bring him in. Orders are orders.”

Keith let out a whistle, “If you say so.”

You bit inside your cheek and leaned your head on the window, fixing your gaze outside.

“Considering the lack of alternatives,” you rasped out, “Yeah. Yeah I do say so.”  

Chapter 3 

[wiypt-writes]

Riding High

Ch25: Keep it Simple

Chapter Summary: The events of Boston behind them, Frank, Fliss and Mary look forward to Christmas…and Frank has a big surprise planned. 

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut…NSFW and NO UNDER 18s!!!

Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

 A/N: So here it is, the last in the series Riding High. Thank you to everyone who has helped and re-blogged and commended in any way. Do not fear, Frank and Fliss will be back in the next instalment of their adventure Riding On

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 24

If you should ever leave me, thought life would still go on, believe me, the world could show nothing to me, so what good would living do me? God only knows what I’d be without you…

"Mary can you just hold on a second, please!" Frank sighed, grabbing the back of her coat to stop her shooting off into the crowd that streamed down the busy Manhattan sidewalk. "But Frank!" she turned and looked at him, her woollen hat jammed down over her ears "I just wanna see the stall!" "Yeah but you can't just run off!" He grumbled and beside him Fliss gave a chuckle. He turned to look at her "who gets so excited about damned wooden tree ornaments?" "Oh hush!" Fliss leaned up to give him a pack, her cold nose brushing his. In retaliation he pulled the front of her baby blue sparkly bobble hat down over her eye and she shoved him in the chest, laughing. "Fuck you!" "Chance would be a fine thing" he grumbled, taking Fliss’ hand as they headed after Mary. "Awww is that why you're grumpy?" Fliss grinned as they walked "Coz you haven't had any in nearly 3 days?" Frank pouted "No." "Liar..." "Ok, look...Frankie has needs..." he whined "I completely over looked the fact hanging out with an 8 year old in the room would be a cock block." "Always the shower..." Fliss teased and Frank snorted. "Yeah, right. Can you imagine? I give it 3 minutes before she came looking for us." "We go home tomorrow. I'll make it up to you then." Fliss grinned and he sighed. "What?" She laughed. "It’s just...you look so hot in all this winter clothing." Frank grinned. And he meant it. Seeing her wrapped up in a coat, hat and scarf had made her look all cute and cozy...and it had done inappropriate things to him for some odd reason. "Hmmm, you know most men get more turned on the less clothing their girls wear." She teased and he grinned. "Yeah, well, I'm not most men" She gave him a smile which he returned with a soft kiss as they stopped by the stall where Mary instantly dived into looking at the array of ornaments. After a few moments of looking she handed Frank one in the shape of a reindeer stag, and a doe for him and Fliss before selecting a robin for herself. "I think they're so pretty." She looked at the bird in her hand "I saw one at Evelyn's over thanks giving." "Ever heard the saying robins appear when loved ones are near?" Fliss asked. Mary shook her head. "No" "Well, I don't know about here but certainly in England we say it because there is an old belief by some people that a robin is a message from heaven, that a loved one is watching over you." "Do you believe that?" Mary looked at Fliss. Fliss hesitated "Well when my Dad's dad died I was 20 and I remember getting up the morning after he died and there was a robin on the fence of the back garden. Bill told me it was my granddad Alex come to check I was ok." "Do you think it was? Really I mean?" "I dunno sweetheart." Fliss sighed "I'd like it to be true..." "Then you should believe it was." Mary said, looking at her "Because isn't that what faith is? Believing something you want to be true?" Fliss looked at Frank who smiled and gave a small shake of his head. She turned back to Mary, smiling softly as she dropped a hand to the back of her head. This kid was unbelievably wise, but with such an innocence behind it all. "Yeah, I suppose it is." Fliss nodded. "Do you think the robin I saw could have been my mom?" She asked, her eyes wide. Frank at that point stepped in, carefully picking an answer that was ambiguous so as not to say yes, but also not dampening her spirits. "If your mom could I'm sure she would come and see you, make sure you're ok." Mary gave a nod, before she turned back to the stall, her attention back on the ornaments. "We need a dog for Thor, and a cat for Fred oh...and a pony for Monty." "What about Cap and Heidi?" Fliss asked, moving to inspect the selection of decorations. "Oh, yeah!" "This is gonna bankrupt me." Frank grumbled, his hands on Fliss' hips, chin resting on her shoulder as he observed the two of them. "Scrooge" Fliss shot back with a smile "Do you think Verity and Bill will like this one?" Mary held up a snowman. "Absolutely" Fliss nodded. "And can I get one for Evelyn?" She asked, selecting a snowflake. Despite the fact that they were now well into the fifty buck range for fucking tree decorations, Frank couldn't help but want to smile at Marys face. She was so thoughtful, the purity behind it all was, as usual, humbling. So he nodded "Sure she will appreciate it." He smiled. He moved to lift her up so she could hand the ones they had picked over to the guy behind the counter who asked Mary what names she wanted on each one. As she told him, he allowed her to sit up on the edge of the little surface, held in place by Frank to watch as he burnt the names into each ornament before he bagged them up and she took them with a thanks. "Our first family tree stuff!" Mary grinned and Fliss smiled, bending down to give her a hug. They set back off towards the hotel, stopping by a burger joint for dinner before they dumped their bags and returned back out for their final evening in the City. Frank had loved every second of their trip, and so had Mary and Fliss. Seeing Mary's reaction to snow and the Christmas lights had been amazing, along with all the bands on street corners, people walking around dressed up. It was magical and he wasn't afraid to let his inner child come out to play either, as Fliss had just found out. "Whose idea was this again?" He asked as Mary was bouncing up and down in the queue. "Yours!" Fliss scoffed as he took Mary's hand in his right "I seem to recall the very visible horror on your face yesterday when I told you I'd never done it before..." "That’s because it's an abomination that someone who's 34 has never been ice skating." "I was a professional athlete." She shrugged "I was banned from doing anything deemed dangerous " Frank looked at her "What do they consider more dangerous than flying a half tonne animal almost 2 meters into the air?" "Bungee jumping, sky diving, jet skiing, water skiing, ice skating.." Fliss shrugged "just to name 5" Frank shook his head as the queue shuffled forward a little. It wasn't too long now, luckily they had timed it right by arriving 20 minutes or so before the next lot of General Admission to the famous Rockefeller rink opened so there weren't too many people ahead. After another 10 minutes they got to the front and Frank nudged Fliss out of the way as she tried to pay. She scowled at him and he simply rolled his eyes and handed his card over. It wasn't cheap but then, he was in New York. What was? Together they headed onto the ice. Frank, having done it a few times as a kid found his legs fairly quickly and didn't stop himself laughing as Mary's completely went from under her and she landed with a thump on her ass. "Here..." he chuckled, offering her his hand. He pulled her up and moved her in front of him. "Give me your hands..." Mary extended her arms to the side and he took her mitten clad hands in his, holding her in front of him. Fliss was moving tentatively behind him, using the sides for support a little. "Ok slide your right foot forward, like on your roller skates..." Frank said. Mary did as she was told "now left...right...left...right..." He continued his chanting and glanced over his shoulder to see Fliss was concentrating on her feet, her tongue poking out slightly. "You good?" "Yup." She said, raising her hand to give him a thumbs up before she skidded slightly and went down in a tangle of limbs. Letting out a laugh he gently pivoted Mary so she could hold onto the side and offered Fliss his hand. Pulling her up into his arms he held her steady for a moment whilst her laughing subsided. He watched her for a second, her face creasing up into those adorable dimples, eyes crinkled so much they were almost shut and her shoulders shook with the force of her giggles. "I fuckin' love you..." he grinned and she smiled at him. "Back at ya sailor" After another few laps Mary and Fliss had managed to get the hand of it which meant Frank could leave them a little bit as he went off for what he called a proper skate. The girls watched calling him a show off as he crossed his feet and turned, skating backwards a little. Both of them debated sabotaging him and tripping him up but they decided not to, instead they simply pretended they didn't know him, resulting in him grabbing Fliss from behind just beneath the large tree, and spinning her round to face him. "Can I help you?" She teased and he gave a snort. "Yeah, you can... Mary?" He called to her where she was trying to perfect a turn and failing as she almost stumbled again. She looked up and headed over. "Can you take our photo?" "Only if you're gonna kiss..." she replied, making smooching noises. "Well we can’t disappoint her..." Frank shrugged and Fliss grinned, her smile turning into a shriek as Frank quickly grabbed her hips before he took one hand, keeping the other round her back and dipped her so she was bending backwards, planting a sloppy kiss on her lips. She laughed against his mouth as he gave her a wink, before kissing her a little deeper and then setting her upright, his eyes boring into hers which were shining in the Christmas lights surrounding the rink. "Oh that was great!" Mary howled and he turned to face her as she handed his phone back. Frank checked the photo and had to smile, it was a dammed good shot. He showed it to Fliss and she beamed. "A framer?" She asked. "A framer." He agreed. It took them ages to get Mary to finally leave the rink. Even a bribe of hot chocolate, marshmallows and cookies wasn't doing it. Eventually Frank put his foot down and told her it was time to go as it was almost 9pm and they still had that tree to go see before they headed to Central Park for one last walk in the lights. After handing their skates back and retrieving their belongings from the lockers they followed the path to the tree. As they round the corner Mary gasped. "It's huge!" She turned to look at Frank and Fliss, her eyes wide "Oh my God!" Frank smiled kissed Fliss' cheek as Mary walked slightly ahead of them down the walkway that was flanked with smaller trees and the famous lit up trumpeting angels . As they caught her up he slipped his spare hand in his pocket, his fingers curling round the small, leather box inside. The damned thing had been burning a hole in his pocket since he had bought it in Boston just after Thanksgiving. Fliss, Verity and Bill had all stayed for a very pleasant week rounded off with a damned good proper Thanksgiving dinner and the three of them had flown home on the Friday, as Fliss was starting to stress about her business. He and Mary followed on the Sunday after she had been given the all clear to fly after a week’s check up at the Hospital. On his spare afternoon, he'd taken a trip into the city with one goal, and it had been surprisingly easy. The first jeweller he has walked into had a perfect ring, and despite the fact he had visited several others none of them caught his eye like that. So he had gone back and asked the assistant for a closer look. It wasn't a huge rock, white gold and emerald cut with in a pave setting, but everything about it had screamed Fliss. It was delicate and feminine but with a wonderful sparkle just like her. He knew that sounded so lame when he had told the assistant but she has just smiled and told him that if he had that much conviction, it must be right. He had been lost when she asked him what size, but in a sudden inspiration he had remembered the Pandora ring he had bought her when he had gotten his first new pay check as supervisor. He mentioned this to the assistant who beamed and said she could easily size it from that by using a simple conversion chart and told him to come back the following day. His sudden good spirit had fallen as he explained he couldn't do and asked her to see if here was anything she could do, even contemplating taking it and having it sizes back in Florida. But, after the shitty run of events over the last week, his luck was in after she returned 5 minutes later with a slip of paper, informing him it would be ready by the end of the day. When he had told Mary he was going to ask Fliss to marry him, she'd been so excited. She'd asked when, where and when he said he didn’t know she'd given him the most exasperated look on the planet. The only one of his friend who he had confided in, Greg, hadn’t been much help either, simply telling him to do it in a way that meant something to them both. Simply put he just hadn't a fucking clue. He had agonized over how to pop the question. On the boat? Or maybe a sunset on their favourite spot at St Pete's beach? Did he wait for New York? As such, Frank had taken to carrying the ring around with him, waiting for that moment when it felt right. So far it hadn't happened at home and as it stood New York wasn’t faring any better. He had thought about it at the top of the Empire state, but it had been too busy. Then there was a moment in Central Park after they had been snowman building that might have worked...until Fliss had nailed him in the face with a snowball. So they'd had a snowball fight instead. Then when walking over Brooklyn Bridge, the skyline behind them… then when they walked back to the Hotel after seeing the Lion King on Broadway, going the long way round to see the display in Macy's window all lit up...and then that moment before when Mary had taken a picture of them kissing under the tree on the ice rink... but none of it felt right. It didn't feel like the moment for them. But now something stirred in his gut. This could be it. It wasn't too busy, the place was gorgeous, right in front of the tree Fliss had been so desperate to see... Ok Adler, you can do this. Taking a deep breath he pulled the box from his pocket when he heard Mary give a squeal. "Oh...wow! Frankie look..." Fliss' voice was a whisper and she nudged him, pointing to the base of the tree. He followed her gaze to see a blonde haired man down on one knee, presenting a ring to a dark haired woman who had her hands clasped over her mouth. Frank slipped the box back into his pocket and stared at the man as he placed the ring onto his now fiancés finger and did his best to look like he cared when Fliss let out a soft "Awwww" The man looked around excitedly, his eyes falling on the three of them before he asked Frank if he or Fliss would mind taking a photo for them. "Course not buddy, congratulations." Frank smiled. Fucking prick... ***** "It was AMAZING!" Mary gushed to Verity as they walked to the car, Fliss' parents having come to pick them up from the airport. "we saw so much stuff but nowhere near all of it but Frank said we could go back next year in the summer maybe and do a bit more." "Looks like someone else had a good time too." Bill smiled, nodding to Fliss who let out a loud yawn. Frank chuckled "She was up all night, I told her not to have more food so close to bed time." "I wanted a hot dog and a pretzel." Fliss mumbled, "Besides, it's nothing to do with the food...we did a lot of walking." Bill gave a snort "You ride horses for a living, you should be fit enough to walk round New York" "I probably skated about 4 miles too..." Fliss said looking at Mary "Someone wouldn't come off the ice rink" "You been sleeping ok otherwise?" Verity looked at her "I'm fine mum." She smiled "No anxiety?" 'V, she said she's fine so leave it" Bill said gently and Fliss shot a grateful look at her dad. She knew her mum was only concerned but she was fed up of assuring people she was fine. After the attack from John she had suffered a bout of delayed shock which had manifested in a few panic attacks, nightmares, and restlessness at night and on one occasion nausea. Luckily Frank had been brilliant at keeping calm when she had an episode, helping her work through it and the last incident she had suffered had been over a week ago. Once they were all in the car, Frank took the passenger seat after Verity offered it to him, Mary continued to chat all the drive home about New York, Fliss and Frank butting in here and there. They arrived home little after 30 minutes later and Fliss headed up the steps with Mary, Thor almost sending the pair of them flying when they opened the door. "Oh puppy I missed you!" Fliss smiled as she gave him plenty of attention and he kept licking her face, whining and emitting quiet little barks. "Did you miss me? Did you?" "Yerress" Frank did his best Scooby Doo impression as he walked past and Fliss let out a laugh, as she stood up and headed into the living room behind Mary, bumping into the girl as she stopped dead, giving a squeal as she saw the Christmas Tree in the corner. "Mum, Dad?" Fliss called, smiling "I take it you did this?" Frank appeared behind them both, smiling as Fliss and Mary exchanged a glance before they all turned to Bill and Verity who were stood in the doorway. "Well we know how much you like to get your tree up as early as you can and, well we were picking one up for ourselves so we got you one. You don’t mind do you?" Verity, looked at Fliss then Frank. "No, of course not!" Fliss grinned. "Saved me a job." Frank nodded "Thanks guys." "Can we decorate it tonight?" Mary asked "Pleeeeeeeaaaasssseee Frank!" Frank glanced at his watch before giving a sigh, he knew she wouldn't go to bed if he said no anyway so what was the point? Plus she was at the University tomorrow which didn’t start until 10 so... "Ok, but if you so much as grumble tomorrow morning when I get you up you'll be in deep trouble." He looked at her sternly as she stooped to pick Fred up. "Cross my heart, hope to die, we all know Fred's got one eye..." she chanted off, nodding. "We brought your box of decorations from the annex." Verity smiled at Fliss, nodding to the box on the floor. "We thought you could pick what you want to keep now you're combining."

“Speaking of decorations…” Frank said, looking at Mary.

“Oh…yeah…hang on…” She said, running to the sofa where she had dumped her little pink rucksack. She fished out the paper bag they had gotten from the stall and found the Snowman they had bought. With a smile she handed it to Verity who looked down at it, her face curling into a smile as her eyes started to prick with tears.

“Fliss said you wouldn’t mind the names Mary wanted on them.” Frank said, watching carefully.

“Of course we don’t mind!” Bill smiled, picking Mary up to give her a hug “We are Nanny V and Poppa B ain’t that right kiddo?” “Yep!” she grinned, hugging him.

“We’ll save it to hang tomorrow when you come over after school.” Verity said as Bill set Mary on the floor and she hugged her tightly.

After a little more chat Verity and Bill left and Frank instructed Mary to change into her Pyjamas before they did the tree. Deciding that was a good idea, Fliss did the same and before long they were all in the living room. Fliss and Mary going through the boxes of decorations, Frank wrestling with the tangle of fairy lights. How they managed to get so fucking knotted up after simply being in a box for 12 months was beyond him.

He had just about managed it when Thor came over to inspect what he was doing, and dropped straight onto his back on top of the string.

“Thor…get out of it…” he grumbled, pushing the dog who simply rolled over, taking half the lights with him, tangling them round his legs and his tails. “Jesus Christ…stand still…for fucks sake…”

Thinking this was a huge game, Thor started to bounce around, barking, and Frank shook his head. “Fliss, sort this mutt out….” Fliss gave a laugh and dropped off the sofa, calling Thor to her. He sat down, allowing Frank to remove the lights before he stood up, shaking them out. Together the 3 of them wound them round the tree before they made a start on the decorations.

“Frank got me this for my first Christmas.” Mary said, hanging a red bauble which had her name on it. “The glitter has all fallen off it now.”

“We can add more if you want.” Fliss looked at her and Mary shrugged.

“I kinda like it.” It didn’t take them long, and their wooden trinkets from New York were the last ones they hung, Mary ensuring they took pride of place. Frank then lifted her up so she could place the star at the top before they stood back.

“Ready for the big turn on?” Frank asked, grinning. Mary and Fliss cheered and began a countdown from 5. When they hit 1 Frank hit the switch and the lights on the tree came to life. He stepped back, looking up at it, his arm curling round Fliss’ shoulder, his other dropping to Mary as she grinned.

“Best Tree ever.” she smiled.

“Yeah, and now it’s time for the best bed ever…” he looked at her.

“Seriously?” Mary complained

“No moaning, remember?” Frank instructed her. “That was in the morning.”

“Well I just extended it to now as well.” he said, shrugging “Because I can, so get…” “Fine, fine, I’m going…” she grumbled. “Night Fliss.” “Night sweetie.” Fliss dropped a kiss to her head before Mary shot a filthy look at Frank who met her with a passive one of his own.

“I’ll be in in a second.” Frank shot after her, watching as she headed down to the hallway. He turned back to Fliss who was watching the tree, a smile on her face.

“Not exactly up to Macey’s standards…” Frank chuckled and she shook her head.

“I love it.” “It looks like an Elf threw up on it.”

“All trees should be like that.” Fliss shrugged, before she gave his cheek a peck. “Now, you go sort Mary and I’ll get us both a beer.” “Actually…” he said, looping his arms round her waist. “I believe there was something else you promised me tonight…” “Oh, yes, of course, Frankie has needs…” she replied with an almost uncanny impersonation, which made him snort. “Does that mean no beer?”

“No beer.” “You want me to wait in bed.” “Yes I do.” he nodded “Go, I’ll let Thor out and lock up.”

Grinning she accepted his kiss and smiled as she turned around, casting him a quite frankly sinful look over her shoulder which almost had him hard right there and then. Not wanting to wait a moment longer he sorted the dog, locked the door, poked his head into Mary’s room to wish her goodnight, and headed into their bedroom. Fliss was hanging her jeans in the closet after having simply discarded them on the bed earlier, and wasting no time Frank pulled off his T-shirt, tossing it to the side before he stepped up behind her, spinning her round to face him. He pressed his lips to hers, deepening the kiss as he slid his hands down to cup her ass and she smirked into the kiss.

“I like your ass.” he muttered. “I like yours too” she said back, “And your arms”

He laughed and pulled back to look down at her as her fingers trailed up his biceps. “My arms?”

“Yeah, your big, strong arms, and your big, broad shoulders and your stupid, handsome face…” she muttered, pulling him back down to her. In between the dizzying kisses Frank steered her towards the bed, and as her legs collided with the edge he stopped to gently trail kisses across her bare collar bone. His lips found her jaw and then, with a wicked quirk of his eyebrow he reached down for her thighs, and grabbing them he pulled them forwards, causing her to fall backwards as he pitched them both onto the bed. As she laughed he chuckled slightly before he kissed her again, and then it was a scramble to get out of his clothes as fast as he could before he fell back on top of his girl, his hands pulling up her camisole top, lips kissing at the spot just below her ear before he slid down her shorts, his mouth gently kissing a trail up from her belly through the middle of her breasts, up her neck and finally back to her mouth.

Fliss was utterly lost now, in the usual whirl of love, and lust and passion and kissed him back, hard as his hand gently dropped between her legs and he felt her slick against the tips of his fingers as he gently coaxed at her clit, continuing until she was nothing short of a writhing mess clawing at his back, aching for him. They locked eyes as he took her left hand in his, and slowly worked into her, both moaning simultaneously at the sensation, Fliss’s eyes rolling back at the exquisite stretch inside. Frank began to move his hips slowly, deeply, his thrusts weren’t measured in the slightest despite the fact he was absolutely aching for her. He wanted to take it slow, end what had been an amazing trip in the same mood it had started in, absolute pure love.

His mouth moved back to Fliss’s neck, nipping gently at her skin and she let out low moan as he picked up the pace ever so slightly, his spare hand kept hold of her hip, keeping her as close to him as she could possibly be.

“Fuck, Frank, right there…” she groaned as he hit her spot and he smirked slightly, he loved the way she got like this with him, ever so demanding at times, such a far cry from the timid woman he had fallen for the previous year.

“Yeah?” he panted as she gave a soft cry, her body tensing underneath him “Good.” “So good…” she moaned, arching her back. His mouth found hers again and his hand slid from her hip to gently tease her nipple and she rolled her hips to grind up against him, changing the angle slightly causing him to go deeper.

“Lissy…” he panted as he drove into her deeply, slowly, and then again and again, his pace increasing ever so slightly. Every single sense Frank possessed was on fire and he broke the long, lazy kiss that they were sharing to stifle a moan against her cheek when he felt her clench around him, a tell-tale sign she was nearing her release. The sheets rustled underneath and around them both as his hips pushed up against hers, and Frank saw Fliss’ head tip back, her throat bared to him in utter bliss as she came hard, her moans soft and breathy into his ear. Frank picked up his pace slightly, chasing his own end as he pushed her through hers, and when he felt that snake in his belly beginning to unravel, he gave a low grunt which morphed into a gasp as he clung to Fliss, spilling himself into her, his hips slowing to a stop as he collapsed forward. Fliss gave a soft chuckle as her hands gently slid up his back and into his hair, as she moved and pressed a soft kiss to his head.

“I know I keep saying it but I really do fuckin’ love you Cowgirl.” he said, voice muffled as his face pressed into her neck.

Fliss gave a chuckle “I’ll never tire of hearing it Sailor. “

He moved to look at her, flashing her a grin before he caught her mouth in a sweet kiss. **** "You still not managed it?" Greg asked as they stood at the bar, waiting for their drinks. Frank sighed and glanced at Fliss who was sat with Bonnie in the booth, the pair of them sniggering at something. "Do you see a ring on her finger?" He looked at Greg. "No" "Well there's your answer." "What's the hold up, man?" Greg frowned. "Nothing has felt right." Frank sighed "she won’t want a huge fuss in front of people so that basically ruled out all of New York...bar one moment when I thought it was time, in front of the tree at Rockefeller...and then some douchebag went and beat me to it, proposing to his girl whilst we watched..." "You're over thinking it." Greg said, looking at Frank "Take a step back. When are the pair of you at your best? The time you enjoy most, I mean" "Honestly?" Frank shrugged "at night when Mary's gone to bed and we finally sit down and just watch TV or joke around." "Well there you go." Greg shrugged "What, at home?" Frank frowned "Why not?" Greg looked at him "the point isn't to be showy or flashy but to show her you wanna spend the rest of your life with her." Frank pondered this for a moment. Greg has a point. They were at their happiest doing the simple things, spending quiet time together, being fucking normal. Fliss loved it when they curled up and Frank would simply cuddle her close and kiss her head, easy signs of affection that she had craved all through her wreck of a marriage. And Frank loved it too, because it made him feel grounded, time for him to simply be Frank in his own right, the very thing he used to use his Friday night drinking sessions for. Now he could feel it every night, thanks to Lissy…

And then, suddenly an idea came to him, out of nowhere.

Oh, it was perfect! "Greg..." he smiled, slapping the man on the back "you are a genius." "Glad I could be of service." Greg smirked "This means I get best man duty, right?"

Frank smirked at him, shrugging, not giving anything away. His eyes flicked back to Fliss who had now stood up, Simon having returned to the table sliding in next to Bonnie. Frank’s eyes travelled up her bare legs, from her high-heels up to the short little pink playsuit she was wearing, which was printed with black palm trees and other patterns, the small straps settling on her tanned shoulders, the front showing him just enough cleavage. She was wearing a black butterfly necklace that she had bought in New York and her hair was loose, falling over her shoulders in soft curls. Her brown eyes locked onto his and he smiled as he remembered the last Circle Of Truth Christmas outing the previous year, when he had told her he loved her for the first time. And here they were, now 5 days away from their second Christmas together.

“Hey beautiful” he smiled as she reached his side. His arm curled round her and he pressed a kiss to her cheek “You ok?” “Yeah, just thirsty.” she smiled. “Can I get a water as well as my gin please?”

“Sure…” he turned to look at the bar tender who was pulling their drinks together. Once he had attracted his attention and added a bottle of water to the order he turned back to her as Greg spoke up.

“Frank said you enjoyed New York.” “Oh, it was fantastic.” she smiled “Every bit as magical as I thought it was going to be.”

“Good, I’m glad you all had a good time.” Greg smiled “You deserved it after everything that went down.” “Yeah well, he’s banged up now. His brother is going to go down for Endangerment or whatever it is you call it, its’ done, it’s over.” Fliss smiled, “We got the rest of our lives ahead of us now.” “Well, if that doesn’t call for shots then I don’t know what does…” Greg smirked as the bar tender placed their drinks in front of them.

“No, Greg…” Fliss started to protest but Greg cut her off.

“Yes Greg!” he smirked, turning to the bar tender, “Can I get a bottle of Tequila pal and 8 glasses.” Fliss groaned “I’m teaching at 9 am!”

“Dumbass…” Greg looked at her and Frank gave a snort.

“I told you to switch them out…”

“I can’t!” she pouted “I already did for Boston and New York…” “Well…” Greg smirked as the bar tender set the bottle and glasses down in front of him “Looks like you’re doing it with a hangover honey.” “Fuck my life…” **** Fuck my life indeed. Fliss spent the following morning throwing up, groaning once more that she was never drinking tequila EVER again. Frank reminded her of how many times she had said that over the time he had known her and she’d simply let out a huge fake sob and thrown herself face down on the bed again declaring that she didn’t want to adult anymore as it sucked.

The days before Christmas passed in the usual chaos. Presents were wrapped and stashed under the tree, more drinks were had with Friends. Evelyn visited for a few days, which had actually almost pleased Frank a little. She wasn’t staying for Christmas, her arrangements having already been made, but she had hinted that maybe next year she could, to which Frank and Fliss had both agreed. She had been taken with Mary’s gift to her and had laughed out loud when Bill and Verity had presented her with a case of Malbec, the same Malbec she’d smashed a bottle of over John’s head. Her gifts to them both had been a substantial chunk of money, in the thousands, and when Frank had protested at the amount on the cheque she had waved it off as 8 years of owed presents. Mary’s was wrapped so it was placed under the tree for Christmas morning. Evelyn headed back to Boston on the morning of Christmas Eve, Frank and Mary driving her to the airport instead of her driver, where they had both bid her a Happy Christmas and waved her goodbye as she headed off to spend it with her friends in Newton.

After the final preparations were made Frank, Fliss and Mary collapsed onto the sofa for a Marathon of Christmas Films. Mary was, as usual, excited and the copious amounts of chocolate and candy she was shovelling down weren’t helping either, but what the hell, it was Christmas after all.

"You ok?" Frank glanced at Fliss as she sat on the other side of the couch. Love Actually was playing, the final film of the evening before Mary went to bed. Fliss, however didn't look like she was paying attention. "Huh?" She looked at him, blinking. "I said are you ok? You look like you were miles away"

“Yeah, sorry, I was errr…just running through things in my head, making sure nothing was forgotten.” Frank smiled. They were hosting Verity and Bill tomorrow as Steven and his family were at his wife’s parents for this year, flying out instead of the 28th to spend New Year’s with them all. Fliss had asked Frank if they could host, as she’d never had the chance to do that before and of course he had agreed, not least because of the excited look on her face when she had asked.

“The table is set, food and everything is ready to go…” he chuckled, looking at her “Just relax…”

He reached round Mary, his hand gently rubbing at Fliss’ back and she smiled at him, turning her attention to the TV.

20 minutes or so later the film finished and Mary jumped up, grabbing Frank’s hand to make him dance to God Only Knows as the final closing scenes played out. He smiled and picked her up, resting her on his hip as he twirled her round to the song, the pair of them laughing before he eventually dropped her down and told her it was bed time. She scooted off, Fred trotting behind her, his tail swishing as she skipped and Frank headed in about 5 minutes later to tuck her in, before he came back to the living room.

“She wants you to go and say goodnight.” he smiled,

Fliss nodded and stood up.

“You sure you’re ok?” Frank asked.

“Yeah, honestly, I’m just tired.” she assured him. Giving him a kiss she headed up the hall and Frank watched her go before he smiled to himself, and set about quickly putting the last touches to his plan.

She came back about 10 minutes later and he smiled at her as she walked into the room.

“OK, now she’s out of the way…I got something for you...” Frank smiled.

Fliss looked at him before she shook her head, chuckling a little “I got something for you too…Frank, I have-” “Me first.” Frank cut her off.

She looked at him for a second, his bright blue eyes were shining as he grinned at her and she rolled her eyes.

“Fine…” she smiled, “Ok, you first.” He grinned and then folded his arms “You gotta find it.” “What?”

“It’s hidden, on the tree, and you gotta find it.” Her face lit up as she gave a laugh “You are such a dork!” “Yeah, I know…” Narrowing her eyes playfully she moved to the tree, glancing at it. “Ok so it’s not very big then, seeing as I can’t see it straight away.” Frank shrugged as she continued her search.

“I haven’t put it high up, seeing as you’re a short ass…” “I’m perfectly average for a woman thank you.” “Trust me baby girl, nothing about you is average.” he winked and she let out a snort.

“Charmer.” she grinned, turning back to the tree.

“Ok, you’re miles off…” he said, and she moved to her right “Gettin’ warmer…warmer…ok, yep, nearly there…” Fliss continued to search, and then something caught her eye. There was something shiny handing from the nose of her Doe ornament. She stepped forward slightly, and when she realised what it was her right hand flew to her mouth. Frank’s breath caught in his throat as she spun to face him, her eyes wide.

"You, me and Mary have been hanging out together since August last year now...” he said, clearing his throat slightly “How do you feel about hanging with us forever?" He watched, holding his breath as Fliss' chest heaved with emotion as she looked at him, those brown eyes he could happily stare at all day were full of tears, the hand which had flown to her mouth in surprise was now shaking as it slid to the spot beneath her throat, that dip in her neck that he could nuzzle at forever. "I'll hang with you for as long as you'll have me..." she whispered, taking a deep breath. "Is that a yes?" Frank inhaled sharply and a watery laugh burst through her tears. "Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes!" Frank's face split into a huge grin "shit..." he sputtered before she threw herself into his arms and he lifted her up easily, her legs wrapping around his waist as he held her close, kissing her neck. She pulled back and placed a kiss to his lips, long and short pecks being shared as she laughed and he laughed, the pair of them simply lost in the moment until eventually he set her down and with a shaking hand he reached out to retrieve the ring from where it was hanging. Taking her left hand in his, with a deep breath he slipped the diamond onto her finger.

Fliss looked at it, admiring the way the delicate band sat underneath her knuckle, the beautiful diamond twinkling in the lights of the tree.

"Oh Frankie...it’s gorgeous..." she whispered, before she looked at him, taking his face in both his hands and pulling him down for a deep kiss. "I love you so much."

"I love you too." He smiled, kissing her again before he pulled away, his hands linking behind her back. 

"I err, got us some champagne." He smiled, "I know it was presumptive of me but figured we could have it tomorrow if you turned me down." Fliss looked up at him, blinking before she took a deep breath “First I need to get you…just wait here…” He released her from his hold and she turned and headed out of the room, Frank watched her go, blinking for a moment before he shrugged and headed to the fridge, the smile still plastered on his face. She said yes! 

Not that he had doubted she would, not really, but there had always been that little bit of fright she may have done. But that was all gone now. As he popped the cork on the bottle he found himself thinking about how he would be doing that soon enough on his wedding day. He poured 2 glassed and headed into the living room with them wondering if maybe a late Autumn wedding next year would be nice, October perhaps when it started to cool off slightly. They could do the beach wedding she always wanted, hire a marquee... Lost in his thoughts completely he jumped a little when Fliss spoke his name and turned to look at her as she stood in front of him, the back of his thighs brushing against the sofa slightly. He noticed her hand was in her pocket, clutching something. Playfully he nodded towards it “I assume that’s not a spanner." He chuckled, referencing the joke they often shared and Fliss shook her head, biting her lip. "No it’s a bit bigger than that" With a shaky hand she pulled out a small, white stick of plastic and held it towards him. It took Frank a moment to understand what it was and as soon as he did his eyes widened and he looked at her, then it, then back again.

"You're...we're...no!." he stuttered, reaching out to take it from her. "I found out this morning." Fliss whispered, watching his reaction carefully "I suspected last week but thought it might all be down to stress and stuff but..." "How, I mean..." "I should have started a new pill packet when we went to Boston but I forgot to take it with me. I thought I'd be ok if I started as soon as I got back but..." "There's a baby in there?" Frank cut her off as he stumbled over his words, nodding to her stomach "Yeah" Fliss nodded. "You put it there." Frank's legs grew shaky and he dropped onto the sofa, staring down at the test in his hands.

2 blue lines. 2 blue lines that had just changed his world forever. "I'm sorry, I know this is sudden and I should have been more careful..." Fliss took a tentative step towards him and he reached out, his hands on either side of her hips, gently pulling her t-shirt up. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to her belly, his forehead resting just above her navel. "I'm gonna be a dad." he pulled back, his eyes watering. "Frankie, you already are." Fliss said, her own tears once more springing forth. "I know you hate it when I say that about Mary but it's true." He looked at her, a dazed smile split his face into two as he pulled her onto his lap, where she straddled him, and he kissed her, hard, leaving her slightly breathless before he rest his forehead against hers. "Fuck, Lissy." he whispered, his eyes closed "You're cooking a little person..." She spluttered a laugh, nodding, her forehead brushing his as she did. "Was it made in Boston...is that the right word?" He pulled back to look at her and she laughed, brushing her hand through his fluffy hair as his gently reached out to rest against her stomach. "Yeah and most likely." "It's a little Boston Bean" he grinned and she laughed again, pressing her lips to his. "You're ok with it then? I know it's probably not what you would have planned but..." "Ok? Of course I'm ok!" He smiled "I love you and the thought of us making a little person that's half me, half you...fuck, it's amazing." She smiled and nodded, her voice a whisper "I know..."

"There is one problem." Franks said, his arms wrapping tightly around her. "What?" "You just ruined Christmas forever...because nothing is ever gonna live up to this ever again."

****** Fliss, Frank and Mary’s adventure continues in RIDING ON

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

DON'T CROSS THE LIMIT

Second part: No without you.

Hank ‘Tranq’ Loza x Obispo ‘Bishop’ Losa daughter!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Author comments: Something I needed to write. This work wasn't re-edited, so I'm sorry if you find grammar mistakes! I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits: @sonsofeorl.

WARNINGS: NSFW, soft smut and maybe a little angst.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba @destynelseclipsa @sheeshgivemeabreak @abbiesthings @knowles-morgan ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“Do you need someone to fix you up, Pacificador?”

Tranq turns around finding you resting against the metallic wall, close to the ring, holding a beer on your left hand with a leg curled. You're wearing one of those charming smiles that drive him insane. He was so focused fighting against Ibarra, that he didn't notice you between the crowd. Looking at him from bottom to top, stopping for a second on his bare and sweated chest barely breathing, you lick your lower lip standing up from the wall.

The last time you saw him was four months ago, before you had to go to work in a hospital in New York. But now, you're back. And with you, the sexual tension that has been installed among both since you met him six years ago, when your father brought you from Mexico. Bishop is aware of what you feel for each other, but he has never commented anything about it; he is not going to interfere in the decisions you make.

The man smirks at you, trying to clean his face of blood and sweat with a black towel.

“Do I look like I need someone's help?” He teases you, taking some steps closer.

Shortening the distance and leaning on your toes, you reach his ear without touching him.

“I know you can… take care of yourself, but I also know that my thighs could feel so good on top of you”. You whisper with a sensual thread of voice, some seconds before breaking the moment. “But you're a grown man. You can do it alone”.

Having a sip from your drink, you palm his chest twice about giving him your back. Grabbing your waist with a tattooed arm, he bows forward, placing his lips on your ear.

“Why do it alone… when la princesa de los Mayas offered herself? Club business, right?”

“Anything for my club, Pacificador”. You chuckle twisting your neck enough to look at him.

Greeting other Mayans on your way to the clubhouse, you start a race with the man through the hallway, coming into his room. Laughing and feeling happy for the first time in months, when he closes the door and catches you between his arms. Tranq sinks his nose on your neck, having a deep, deep breath of the fruity scent wrapping your skin. You let him take his time to assimilate that you are really there, and that it's not a dream.

“How many time do I have until lose you again for… who knows how many months?”

“Live the moment”.

“I'm doing it, princesa”.

Turning around under his grip, you lift up both hands to caress his chest, with your eyes on your own fingers drawing imaginary patterns.

“Take a shower, while I find the things to…” You point his face for a second, alluding to the wounds.

He nods in silence, pressing his lips on your cheek too close of your corners. You have never crossed the limit, but you can't help fantasizing about how good his tongue must feel against yours, or his hands roaming through your body. Leaving you alone at the center of the dorm, you have to take a minute to calm yourself down, before looking for the medical kit.

You wait for him checking some emails on your phone, finding your new contract ready to be signed tomorrow by morning. But you leave it away over the desk, when Tranq gets out of the bathroom wearing clean clothes. And you could swear that no one fits this good in black. No one. His face looks somewhat better, but his left eyebrow keeps bleeding. Having a seat on the edge of the mattress, next to the medical stuff, you open the kit to take some cotton to wet in peroxide.

“Don' move, okay?”

“And you?”

“What?”

“That if you can move”.

“Of co—”.

Not ending the sentence, he pushes you onto his lap with both hands on your hips. You can't help but leave an innocent laughter escaping from your throat. Your left hand tours his skin cleaning the fresh blood mixed with the short hair over his eye, focusing on the size of the wound to know how many stitches you will need. But one is more than enough. Hank can defend himself pretty well, he's been doing it since ever. You know his story. You know all the shit he has been through over the year, until Padrino called him to join the Mayans. He's also one of the most interesting men you have ever known.

“You were right”. He mutters.

“Yeah, I'm always right”. You reply too low, focused on the simple task. “But exactly, about what I'm right at this moment…?”

“About how good your thighs feel”.

You were so assorted in taking care of him, that you didn't notice his huge and long fingers touching your skin. His thumbs going up from your knees, barely lifting the beginning of your skirt. Then, they go down again, to repeat the ephemeral caresses that speed up your pulse.

“Stop… This looks like the… start of a horrible porn movie”. You complain with a soft laugh, leaving away the cotton inside the medical kit.

“I'm sure it would be the best porn movie of all”.

You lean back some inches, twisting your neck with an incredulous gesture in your face.

“What? My mother didn't raise a liar”. He adds with a firm tone of voice.

“Ay, ya, Hank… Párale, ¿sí?” (C'mon, Hank… Stop, okay?). You laugh again grabbing the small stitch, taking off the security paper to focus again on the gap.

But you can't. His hands keep touring your thighs and it's killing you, torturing you to death. Sticking it over the eyebrow, making some pressure, you crouch your gaze to his attentive dark eyes.

“What?”

“What if I can't stop?”

“Look, there is a line between us”. You remark with a hand among your chests. “And we can't cross it”.

“Tell me I'm not crazy”. He says pulling away some bristles of your hair, behind your ear. “Tell me that you feel the same”.

“What would solve that?” You sigh, closing your eyes, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“Nothing. But I just want to know if you have ever imagined a life together. That it wasn't only me”.

“I do. I do so many times that I find myself talking to you, as if you were with me in New York. In the kitchen, in the living room, in the bed… But then I realize you're not there, and my heart breaks a little more”.

“Why don't you call me? Why don't you text me?”

“For what? For… make it real five minutes? Then I would hang up the call and still be alone".

“You know I could leave the club and move to the big city, for you”.

Yes, you know. You know that he would leave everything for you. He can easily find a normal job, with his skills and his personality. But you know that he loves the Mayans; his brothers, his family. The mexican brings you back to reality when his lips peck your collarbone. Gently and slow.

“I bet no one can make you feel like I do”. He soughs between dearly kisses, dragging his hands on your thighs, until his wrists disappear under your skin.

His thumbs stretch both sides of your legs, nailing his other fingers under your buttocks.

“I bet no one can touch you like I do”.

His rapturous voice intoxicates you completely, closing your eyes again and focusing on his caresses. Traveling his mouth to your neck, leaving some short kisses there.

“I bet you're so wet right now because of me”.

“Hank…” You gasp totally lost in the way his right hand has to go a little down.

You can't lie. It's the first time he goes so farther, and he already has you begging in silence for something else, however slight. His forefinger continues over your panties, down to your core to press it lightly. A soft moan dies in your throat with his teeth trailing your skin. He knows exactly how to play with your mind to drive you crazy.

“Just one second”. He implores you muttering it, not needing a single word from you to know what you want him to do.

With the help of a second finger, Tranq pulls aside the fabric, sliding the longer one inside you; so slow that you can feel perfectly how it makes its way between your tightness. You moan again kissing your chin, until reaching the height of your lips.

“This feels so much better…”

“Hank…”

He ignores you, pulling down his finger to thrust it again, drinking every gasp, every sob that comes from your mouth. You are conscious that this shouldn't be happening, but four months has been too much time. You used to conform yourself with a light touch from him, a kiss on your cheek, a quick hug. But now, you can't handle the necessity you have developed by having so much distance between you two. And you want more.

“Stop, please…” Fortunately, your brain manages to make a connection with your mouth.

“You sure?” He asks, somewhat disappointed.

“We can't”. You shake your head, growling pitifully when you feel the emptiness wrapping you again.

The mexican nods then, supporting both palms of his hands on the mattress, pulling his gaze away from you.

“I'm sorry”.

“It's okay, princesa”.

He's not angry at you, but at the separated lifes you have to live because of your father. Because you can't lose him, even if it means to lose yourselves. Getting up from his lap, you put your clothes on well, accommodating your hair behind your shoulders to pick up the medical stuff. Grabbing your phone from the desk, you leave the dorm with your legs shaking. More because of the rage, than because of the pleasure, for short it was.

Reaching the bar, you take a Jose Cuervo bottle from it, to hide inside the Templo. The only place where no one is going to come in tonight. The Mayans are too busy enjoying the party and the bitches hanging around. Almost closing the door, you fall down on the leather sofa, opening the tequila to have a long sip until the liquid burns your throat. He has made it real for a moment and you're feeling unhappy like never before.

The salty tears flow in your lips, without knowing when you started to cry. It's terrible shit carry something like that for six years, touching it with your fingertips, to see that you're losing it out of sheer cowardice. And, what could be worse? Lose your father, who has loved you unconditionally, or lose the man who you love unconditionally?

[litwitlady]

Send Me Home (1/?)

Read on AO3.

‘The Braves are down to their last at bat, Jeff. And it’s Michael Guerin in the on-deck circle. What’s Ramon’s strategy here? Does he try to jam him up inside or keep firing fastballs and hope Guerin can’t catch up?’

It’s September in Atlanta and the Braves are playing the Marlins. Every game counts as both teams vy for a spot in October baseball. Michael Guerin is a lead candidate for MVP, and he’s always a threat in the bottom of the ninth with two outs and the bases loaded. The sellout crowd roars as his walk-up music begins to play.

I was born to the desert And to the desert I’ll return Sun-soaked and leathered Tattered and tethered Send me home, send me home, send me home

‘Ramon’s got that curveball, Chip. I’m not sure Guerin’s ever met a fastball he couldn’t hit. Especially in the bottom of the ninth. So, I think Ramon starts with the curveball even if that’s exactly what Guerin’s expecting.’

Michael steps into the batter’s box and takes a couple of quick practice swings, eyes wide and watching Ramon’s every move. He squares his hips and lowers his hands on the bat just a touch. It’s an adjustment he’s been working on for the past month or so with great success. Ramon lets loose his first pitch. As expected, it’s a nasty curveball and a pitch Michael has struck out on more than once during his twelve year career. But this time he’s prepared and anticipates perfectly where the bottom of the curve will land. He shoots a laser to shallow right field, and it drops in for a walk-off single. The dugout empties and everyone tackles him as he crosses home plate, one game closer to October.

--------

Later that night, Michael sits on the tailgate of his Chevy, beer in hand and staring up at the stars like so many nights before. Several of the guys had harassed him about going out to celebrate, but he’s not in the mood. He’s never in the mood these days. The winning still feels good and the possibility of the MVP is a dream. But for a long time now, he’s felt like there’s something missing in his life. Something essential, something elusive, something just out of his reach.

The truth is that he’s lonely. It’s a truth he can admit to himself when he’s alone underneath the cosmos watching the stars blink down at him against the wide expanse of space.

There have been relationships along the way. Women he’s dated earnestly. Once upon a time, maybe even a couple he could have loved. When he was younger, there had also been a few men. But none recently. The deeply rooted homophobia of baseball to blame. Mostly anyway. It’s strange now - everyone knows he’s bisexual, a simple Google search is all it takes. But he’s fairly certain baseball collectively decided to ignore his sexuality altogether after he got called up to the majors all those years ago.

He wants to believe he’s not afraid to be seen with men. He tells himself it’s just simpler this way, less complicated. Fewer awkward questions and the focus remaining on his athletic abilities rather than his sex life. Besides, only two major league players have ever come out and they both only did so after they’d retired. He supposes maybe he counts as the third. It’s not the stuff of fairytales, and Michael had learned that lesson during his brief stint in Double-A ball.

That feels like a lifetime ago.

Alex Manes’ new album drifts through the truck’s windows. His low, throaty voice practically purring into Michael’s ears. He’s been a big fan of Alex and his music for several years now. They’re both from New Mexico and the way he sings about the desert rings true enough to Michael that listening to one of his songs sends him right back home. Despite their many issues, he misses his brother and sister so badly sometimes he can barely breathe. Alex’s music reminds him of all the things and all the people he’s left behind - for better or worse. A couple of years ago, he’d had the opportunity to see Alex perform live but he’d turned it down. He still can’t explain why.

The night stretches out before him. Beer and music lulling him into a peaceful sleep until a bright light flashes in his face and startles him awake. He sits up and raises his hands peacefully. ‘Hey, Ernie.’

‘Oh, Mr. Guerin. I didn’t recognize you. What are you still doing here? It’s past midnight.’ He clicks the flashlight off and clips it back onto his belt. ‘Congrats on the walk-off!’

Michael shrugs. ‘Thanks. Didn’t want to go home just yet. Like watching the stars at night. But I haven’t seen you in a while. The grandkids still running circles around you?’

‘You know it! Caleb just turned five and is a holy terror. Michelle is eight going on eighteen. I can barely get a word in edgewise between the two of them.’ His eyes shine even in the darkness, crinkling at the edges.

Michael’s heart aches at Ernie’s easy, simple joy, but he manages a genuine smile thanks to the night’s shadows softening the edges of his jaw. ‘That sounds nice.’ He hops off his tailgate. ‘I’ll get out of your hair. Got an early game anyway. Need to get some sleep.’

‘Well, now, don’t let me chase you off. I don’t mind the company. It gets a little spooky at night. You can always come knock on my door if you ever need anything.’ Ernie opens the Chevy’s door for Michael and shuts it behind him. ‘All these other guys with their flashy sports cars and you in this old rust bucket. You’re a weird one, Mr. Guerin. But I like that about you.’

Michael runs his hands around the cracked steering wheel. ‘Most days this truck is about the closest thing to home I’ve got. There’s still desert dirt in the bed and an engine I rebuilt myself. What the fuck would I do with a Ferrari?’

They both laugh and Michael waves and honks his horn as he pulls out of the player’s lot. The streets are mostly empty, cars keeping to the well-lit interstate at night. He decides to stay on surface roads and take the long way home, radio softly playing old country songs. His thoughts drift to tomorrow’s game and the rookie pitcher the Marlins are starting. His own rookie year had been tough, and he makes a mental note to speak to the kid at some point during the game, ask him how he’s doing and if he’s being treated well.

The streetlights along Peachtree illuminate his path through Brookhaven. He crosses into Atlanta city limits and enters Buckhead just as ‘Lay Me Down’ by Loretta Lynn and Willie Nelson starts to play through his speakers. And all too soon, he turns down his street and opens the cedar gate at the end of his driveway, parking his truck and sitting in the darkness until the song comes to an end.

Climbing out of his truck, he unlocks the front door with his telekinesis, slipping inside quietly and deactivating his alarm system. He’d bought the house in foreclosure, spending most of his money on remodeling the mid-century ranch. It’s not extravagant, but it’s the most expensive thing he owns. He’d even let Isobel fly out to decorate the place within a very strict budget, and he’d had to admit she’d done a great job - one side of his front door Atlanta, the other side New Mexico.

But even so, it has never felt like home.

The first few nights he’d spent in the house had been rough. It was too quiet and too soft and too much. More than once he’d grabbed his ancient, worn sleeping bag and crawled into the bed of his truck. Sleeping hard on the uncomfortable. ribbed metal but beneath the stars he loved so much. The morning dew waking him with the sun each morning.

These days he manages to sleep in bed at night, but only because he’d installed two skylights overhead so that the stars would always be his. And only his. He rarely brings anyone home anymore, preferring their house to his. But when he does, he takes them to a guest bedroom. None of them ever seem to mind how empty the space is or how devoid of personality. Four blank walls and a lone bed filling the room. Why would they? It’s not Michael the foster kid from the desert they’re sleeping with. It’s Michael Guerin the multi-millionaire first baseman with the single-season home run record and the aw-shucks, good boy smile.

Tonight he doesn’t bother turning on any lights. He just pads through the kitchen to grab an apple and a bottle of water, undresses and climbs into bed. He takes a large bite of the granny smith and pulls out his phone, calling Isobel.

‘Congrats on the walk-off!’ He can hear another game in the background. Isobel had never watched a baseball game in her life - including any of his - until the day he’d gotten drafted right out of high school. But now she watches all of them. Or as many of them as possible. Her scouting reports are better than anything stamped official and readily available in the team clubhouse.

‘Thanks. Didn’t really see the ball that well tonight, though. Is Max there?’ It’s stupid to ask when he already knows the answer.

‘Out with Liz. They’ve been inseparable ever since she moved back to Roswell. It’s gross and I miss you.’ The sound on her tv goes silent and he knows she’s settling in for a long conversation. ‘Tell me about tomorrow. Any surprises?’

‘No. New kid on the mound just called up. Got a mean slider. Torres has some pain in his wrist so he’ll be benched.’ Michael finishes his apple in two large bites and guzzles his water, listening to Isobel pound away at her keyboard already deep in research mode. ‘Might get me moved up to the number two slot.’

They spend fifteen minutes strategizing. It’s what they do most nights. Isobel critiquing the numbers based on intuition and her own database of knowledge concerning the human psyche, while he runs statistical analyses and probabilities in his head faster than humanly possible. Michael suggests more than once that she’d make a great scout and that maybe when he retires they can go into business together. He’s told her this a million times, but she only laughs him off and reminds him that she already has a job.

‘A worthless job that doesn’t pay you what you deserve.’ He reaches for the tv remote on his nightstand but can’t find it. Not that it matters. He switches the television on with his mind and nods his head through the channels, stopping on an old western and muting the volume.

‘Philanthropy is not worthless, Michael!’ She sighs loudly to punctuate her exasperation. ‘And my salary is not the point - the point is helping people. Besides, I have all of Noah’s money and can negotiate more pay any time I choose.’

That he believes. ‘How’d your date go last night?’ Asking Isobel about her date absolutely means she’ll push him to share something just as personal. But it was her first official date with a woman and he genuinely wants to know how it went. No matter the price he’ll pay.

‘Really, really, really well.’ He can hear the grin in her voice and it makes him smile. ‘She’s a cardiologist and very good with her hands. Valenti makes a pretty superb matchmaker. Maybe I’ll ship him your way because you could certainly use the help.’

Michael rolls his eyes and fakes a groan. ‘You can keep Valenti. Don’t you think it’s weird to have your ex setting you up on dates? Do you really think he’s the best judge of character?’

‘Kyle knows me better than most. He was my first relationship after Noah and he put up with a lot. I trust him implicitly with my heart and yours. Plus, I was the one who broke up with him.’

‘My heart is fine, thanks.’ He lies smoothly and knows exactly how she’s going to respond.

‘I can’t stand the thought of you all the way across the country in that foreign place with no one to go home to at night.’

He snorts. ‘It’s called Georgia, Iz. And I’m not home enough for a relationship to work right now.’

‘Half the guys on your team - on any team! - are married. So that’s a pisspoor excuse. You keep pushing everyone away. Don’t forget who you’re talking to. I know you, Michael. As soon as you start to feel something, the doors slam shut and you become another stereotypical lonewolf cowboy.’ Her voice is loud now, vehement and self-righteous. They’ve reenacted this scene so many times it feels very paint by number at this point. ‘I hardly ever hear a smile in your voice anymore.’

She’s right and she knows it. He used to love dating, meeting new people. First kisses and first fucks. Last kisses and farewell fucks. He lived for those moments and now he hardly ever looks anyone in the eye. ‘We have this conversation at least once a month. And nothing has changed. It’s too hard right now, Iz. I’m too known to ever really be known. Not the way I would want to be. Not in any way that I would trust.’

There’s no use arguing so they move on to easier topics. Max and LIz’s ongoing romance, details of Isobel’s date, Maria’s remodel of the Pony thanks to a very generous anonymous donation. Every word out of her mouth squeezes his heart a little bit tighter until it’s too much and he says goodnight.

Flipping onto his side, he reaches his arm out to the other side of the bed, running his hand over the cold, unwrinkled sheet. His eyes land on the empty pillow no head ever touches and tries to imagine a face looking back at him. A face that might smile suggestively or quietly murmur goodnight. But he’s unable to conjure anything beyond a blank, shapeless outline. It makes him feel pathetic so he yanks the pillow underneath his own head and forces his eyes shut, trying in vain to quiet his mind. Despite his best efforts, sleep takes its sweet time finding him.

The next morning he’s exhausted but gets to the field early. He’d woken up to a cryptic message from Isobel. There’s a surprise waiting for you after the game! Stick around this time, Michael. Don’t make me get on a plane. He’s sure that can’t mean anything good, but he attempts to put it out of his mind for now.

The ballpark is already bustling with activity. Michael heads into the clubhouse to change. He stops and asks Stan, their hitting coach, for some extra work before the rest of the team arrives. He’s worried about how he’s been shifting his wrists recently and wants someone else’s opinion. The adjustments he’d made last night seem to be working, but he’s worried about straining a muscle or tweaking the wrong tendon. Two of his teammates are already on the IL with wrist pain. He doesn’t want to be next, especially with the postseason race and his run at MVP on the line.

Michael finds Danny Marks asleep in one of the clubhouse’s leather chairs. He swats him on the head on the way to his locker, laughing at Danny’s loud yelp. ‘Fuck, man, you’re always asleep. How did you manage to stay awake on the mound long enough to put together two Cy Young seasons?’

‘Talent, Guerin. Talent. You should try it sometime. Maybe then you’ll win MVP.’ Danny yawns and stretches his arms over his head. Michael glares at him. ‘Don’t worry. You’re still the favorite. Our very own diamond darling. No one else is getting their own personal concert any time soon.’

‘What?’ He sits on the chair at his locker, blinking at Danny in confusion. ‘Personal concert?’ Isobel’s strange text message flashes through his head again while he inwardly groans.

‘Oh, yeah.’ Danny grins and crosses his ankles on the table in front of him, brashly enjoying the way Michael squirms. ‘Alex Manes is traveling down from Nashville just for you - baseball’s most beloved first baseman.’ He throws a toy football at Michael’s head, chuckling when it bounces off his curls. ‘He’s not bad looking, you know.’

‘Stop.’ Danny is Michael’s best friend on the team and the only one he feels comfortable enough to have this conversation with. ‘Whose idea was this? Did Isobel do something? Or was this you?’

Michael doesn’t want this. Not at all. And he can’t exactly explain why. Music is personal to him - profoundly personal. Always has been since he was nothing but an unloved kid trapped in various violent foster homes. It was music that had kept him warm at night and music that had loved him best. The only escape available to him during most of his darkest hours.

Over the years, there have been many artists he’s considered favorites. Most of them old country crooners or folk song heroes. Much like Alex Manes. But with Alex, it’s something more. Something he has a hard time vocalizing. They are both from New Mexico. Both spent a chunk of their formative years in Roswell. Michael has read or watched multiple interviews with Alex where he’s alluded heavily to an abusive father. His lyrics certainly do the same. Lots of kids grow up that way - Michael knows he’s not alone in that particular fate - but the way Alex puts that pain to music settles something inside his chest that has never been settled before.

So the thought of meeting Alex worries Michael. They say don’t meet your heroes for a reason. In his head, Alex represents a sense of safety, a sense of home. What happens when they meet and that’s taken from him? Because maybe Alex is a liar. Or maybe he’s a dick. Either possibility is very real. He’s also a vet, and Michael hates, hates, hates the military. And he doesn’t want to hate Alex. Doesn’t want to lose his music. Cannot emotionally afford to lose his music if he’s being honest.

‘Isobel apparently knows someone who knows someone who knows someone. I just didn’t try and stop her. Or Lena.’ Danny’s wife is Isobel’s favorite human. It’s the worst thing that’s happened to Michael since meeting Danny. The two of them have done nothing but make his life one unasked for surprise after another. ‘Besides, even if you hate it, the team could really use some fun before heading into the postseason. Some good old-fashioned team bonding, my friend. And this time, you don’t get to run away. The guys need to see their captain smile every once in a while.’

Michael sighs and changes into his warmups. Danny’s phone rings and he grins one last time at Michael before disappearing for some privacy. Michael decides to push Alex Manes to the back of his mind and concentrate on the game ahead of him. Stan is waiting, anyway. So he’ll focus on his wrists for now and worry about everything else later. The one thing he does do, however, is pull out his phone and send Isobel a very pointed text.

You should have gotten my permission first.

Isobel’s text response is nothing but the angel halo emoji. Michael wishes his telekinesis was strong enough to travel across state lines because he’d like to throw her phone into the wall. Since that option is not available to him, he sends Max a text instead.

Your sister is a menace.

He pockets his phone, not bothering to wait on an answer. Max tends to be too busy these days. Not that that’s anything new really. Unless your name is Liz Ortecho or Isobel Evans, he doesn’t have much time for you.

The morning stretches by as gametime approaches. Batting practice goes well and Michael works with Stan on keeping his wrists from turning too much when he swings. His teammates have all found out about the concert by the time the first pitch is thrown and none of them will let him forget it. Each time his walk-up music begins to play, Danny leads a small group of particularly bad vocalists in a sing-a-long. All of them belting out the lyrics at the top of their lungs. Michael tries to keep the stupid grin off his face and almost suceeds.

He won’t admit it, but he actually begins to get excited. Doesn’t even mind when Max only ends up responding with a snarky text.

Try living less than five miles from her.

He’d give anything to live five miles from Isobel. Michael loves his teammates. He really does. Atlanta has one of the best team dynamics in baseball. Maybe the best. They support each other, love one another, and when they say family, they mean it. Team dinners and family outings are normal even during the off season. Michael doesn’t avoid spending time with them because he dislikes anyone - although there have been various tiffs in the past but nothing long lasting. He avoids them because he loves them enough to let his mouth loosen too much, all his secrets threatening to tumble out with no regard for his safety or the safety of his siblings.

He knows this because it has happened on more than one occasion. Years ago during his rookie years when living hard and drinker harder were his nightly norm. On any given night you’d find him at the bar, four fingers deep into a bottle of bourbon, mouthing off about moving things with his mind. It wasn’t the booze talking; it was his loneliness. The throbbing homesick ache in his chest that only Max and Isobel could smooth away. Once he knew his teammates were shitfaced, he’d let some little comment slip about his abilities. Half of them never paid any attention to the things he said and the other half merely laughed at him.

He’d told Isobel one night about the things he said and she’d yelled at him solidly for an hour. The next day he’d gotten a nasty phone call from Max and has kept his mouth shut ever since that conversation.

Keeping their secret is important. Michael understands that, but the lying exhausts him. He loves Danny and hates that the most important part of himself Danny and Lena can never know. He loves his other teammates, and he doesn’t want to hide this huge part of himself from them forever. The lying has always made him feel unclean - distant and deceptive. Back in Roswell, it had been easier. He hadn’t had many friends and the people closest to him shared the same secret. But now, the people he sees every single day aren’t allowed to know the real him. It breaks his heart in a way he could never have anticipated, making him feel truly alien.

Michael and Isobel had jumped through enormous hoops to keep his DNA secret from team doctors and drug testers. It’s the only reason he’d ever agreed to her mind influence.

A major league baseball player cannot have telekinetic superpowers, alien or not. The cheating accusations would be immediate and relentless - his career over and his name shamed forever. Regardless of the fact that he would never dream of cheating to advance his career. Besides, he’s self-aware enough - or perhaps cocky enough - to understand that his level of talent doesn’t require any telekinetic assistance. Michael Guerin is just that fucking good.

During his last at bat in the eighth inning, Alex Manes’ face flashes on the digital scoreboard high above centerfield advertising the aftergame concert. Michael concentrates on keeping his wrists tight and imagines that Alex is somewhere in the stadium watching him. He swings at the first pitch - a fastball left too high over the plate - and knows he’s gotten every piece of it by the cracking sound his bat makes. He starts a slow run to first base and watches the ball sail over the leftfield wall. With his signature two claps, he rounds first and enjoys the cheering crowd chanting his name. Stepping on the bag at home plate, his eyes glance back up at the scoreboard, but Alex’s face has disappeared. And suddenly his nerves have returned tenfold at the realization that soon he’ll be face to face with a man he has no idea how to talk to - what to say or even if he’ll get a chance to say anything at all.

Despite the cheers and happy butt slaps from his teammates, the pit in Michael’s stomach stretches wide. In the clubhouse, he checks his phone again and one last final message from Isobel lights up his screen.

He wants to meet you first.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Riding High Ch 25: Keep It Simple

Chapter Summary: The events of Boston behind them, Frank, Fliss and Mary look forward to Christmas…and Frank has a big surprise planned.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut…NSFW and NO UNDER 18s!!!

Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: So here it is, the last in the series Riding High. Thank you to everyone who has helped and re-blogged and commended in any way. Do not fear, Frank and Fliss will be back in the next instalment of their adventure Riding On in a little while.

And yes, I know it ain’t Christmas but…well, in my mind it should be Christmas every day!

Series Masterlist //  Main Masterlist 

Chapter Song:  God Only Knows by the Beach Boys

If you should ever leave me, thought life would still go on, believe me, the world could show nothing to me, so what good would living do me? God only knows what I’d be without you…

"Mary can you just hold on a second, please!" Frank sighed, grabbing the back of her coat to stop her shooting off into the crowd that streamed down the busy Manhattan sidewalk. "But Frank!" she turned and looked at him, her woollen hat jammed down over her ears "I just wanna see the stall!" "Yeah but you can't just run off!" He grumbled and besides him Fliss gave a chuckle. He turned to look at her "who gets so excited about damned wooden tree ornaments?" "Oh hush!" Fliss leaned up to give him a pack, her cold nose brushing his. In retaliation he pulled the front of her baby blue sparkly bobble hat down over her eye and she shoved him in the chest, laughing. "Fuck you!" "Chance would be a fine thing" he grumbled, taking Fliss’ hand as they headed after Mary. "Awww is that why you're grumpy?" Fliss grinned as they walked "Coz you haven't had any in nearly 3 days?" Frank pouted "No." "Liar..." "Ok, look...Frankie has needs..." he whined "I completely over looked the fact hanging out with an 8 year old in the room would be a cock block." "Always the shower..." Fliss teased and Frank snorted. "Yeah, right. Can you imagine? I give it 3 minutes before she came looking for us." "We go home tomorrow. I'll make it up to you then." Fliss grinned and he sighed. "What?" She laughed. "It’s just...you look so hot in all this winter clothing." Frank grinned. And he meant it. Seeing her wrapped up in a coat, hat and scarf had made her look all cute and cozy...and it had done inappropriate things to him for some odd reason. "Hmmm, you know most men get more turned on the less clothing their girls wear." She teased and he grinned. "Yeah, well, I'm not most men" She gave him a smile which he returned with a soft kiss as they stopped by the stall where Mary instantly dived into looking at the array of ornaments. After a few moments of looking she handed Frank one in the shape of a reindeer stag, and a doe for him and Fliss before selecting a robin for herself. "I think they're so pretty." She looked at the bird in her hand "I saw one at Evelyn's over thanks giving." "Ever heard the saying robins appear when loved ones are near?" Fliss asked. Mary shook her head. "No" "Well, I don't know about here but certainly in England we say it because there is an old belief by some people that a robin is a message from heaven, that a loved one is watching over you." "Do you believe that?" Mary looked at Fliss. Fliss hesitated "Well when my mum's dad died I was 20 and I remember getting up the morning after he died and there was a robin on the fence of the back garden. Bill told me it was my granddad Alex come to check I was ok." "Do you think it was? Really I mean?" "I dunno sweetheart." Fliss sighed "I'd like it to be true..." "Then you should believe it was." Mary said, looking at her "Because isn't that what faith is? Believing something you want to be true?" Fliss looked at Frank who smiled and gave a small shake of his head. She turned back to Mary, smiling softly as she dropped a hand to the back of her head. This kid was unbelievably wise, but with such an innocence behind it all. "Yeah, I suppose it is." Fliss nodded. "Do you think the robin I saw could have been my mom?" She asked, her eyes wide. Frank at that point stepped in, carefully picking an answer that was ambiguous so as not to say yes, but also not dampening her spirits. "If your mom could I'm sure she would come and see you, make sure you're ok." Mary gave a nod, before she turned back to the stall, her attention back on the ornaments. "We need a dog for Thor, and a cat for Fred oh...and a pony for Monty." "What about Cap and Heidi?" Fliss asked, moving to inspect the selection of decorations. "Oh, yeah!" "This is gonna bankrupt me." Frank grumbled, his hands on Fliss' hips, chin resting on her shoulder as he observed the two of them. "Scrooge" Fliss shot back with a smile "Do you think Verity and Bill will like this one?" Mary held up a snowman. "Absolutely" Fliss nodded. "And can I get one for Evelyn?" She asked, selecting a snowflake. Despite the fact that they were now well into the fifty buck range for fucking tree decorations, Frank couldn't help but want to smile at Marys face. She was so thoughtful, the purity behind it all was as usual humbling. So he nodded "Sure she will appreciate it." He smiled. He moved to lift her up so she could hand the ones they had picked over to the guy behind the counter who asked Mary what names she wanted on each one. As she told him, he allowed her to sit up on the edge of the little surface, held in place by Frank to watch as he burnt the names into each ornament before he bagged them up and she took them with a thanks. "Our first family tree stuff!" Mary grinned and Fliss smiled, bending down to give her a hug. They set back off towards the hotel, stopping by a burger joint for dinner before they dumped their bags and returned back out for their final evening in the City. Frank had loved every second of their trip, and so had Mary and Fliss. Seeing Mary's reaction to snow and the Christmas lights had been amazing, along with all the bands on street corners, people walking around dressed up. It was magical and he wasn't afraid to let his inner child come out to play either, as Fliss had just found out. "Whose idea was this again?" He asked as Mary was bouncing up and down in the queue. "Yours!" Fliss scoffed as he took Mary's hand in his right "I seem to recall the very visible horror on your face yesterday when I told you I'd never done it before..." "That’s because it's an abomination that someone who's 34 has never been ice skating." "I was a professional athlete." She shrugged "I was banned from doing anything deemed dangerous " Frank looked at her "What do they consider more dangerous than flying a half tonne animal almost 2 meters into the air?" "Bungee jumping, sky diving, jet skiing, water skiing, ice skating.." Fliss shrugged "just to name 5" Frank shook his head as the queue shuffled forward a little. It wasn't too long now, luckily they had timed it right by arriving 20 minutes or so before the next lot of General Admission to the famous Rockefeller rink opened so there weren't too many people ahead. After another 10 minutes they got to the front and Frank nudged Fliss out of the way as she tried to pay. She scowled at him and he simply rolled his eyes and handed his card over. It wasn't cheap but then, he was in New York. What was? Together they headed onto the ice. Frank, having done it a few times as a kid found his legs fairly quickly and didn't stop himself laughing as Mary's completely went from under her and she landed with a thump on her ass. "Here..." he chuckled, offering her his hand. He pulled her up and moved her in front of him. "Give me your hands..." Mary extended her arms to the side and he took her mitten clad hands in his, holding her in front of him. Fliss was moving tentatively behind him, using the sides for support a little. "Ok slide your right foot forward, like on your roller skates..." Frank said. Mary did as she was told "now left...right...left...right..." He continued his chanting and glanced over his shoulder to see Fliss was concentrating on her feet, her tongue poking out slightly. "You good?" "Yup." She said, raising her hand to give him a thumbs up before she skidded slightly and went down in a tangle of limbs. Letting out a laugh he gently pivoted Mary so she could hold onto the side and offered Fliss his hand. Pulling her up into his arms he held her steady for a moment whilst her laughing subsided. He watched her for a second, her face creasing up into those adorable dimples, eyes crinkled so much they were almost shut and her shoulders shook with the force of her giggles. "I fuckin' love you..." he grinned and she smiled at him. "Back at ya sailor" After another few laps Mary and Fliss had managed to get the hand of it which meant Frank could leave them a little bit as he went off for what he called a proper skate. The girls watched calling him a show off as he crossed his feet and turned, skating backwards a little. Both of them debated sabotaging him and tripping him up but they decided not to, instead they simply pretended they didn't know him, resulting in him grabbing Fliss from behind just beneath the large tree, and spinning her round to face him. "Can I help you?" She teased and he gave a snort. "Yeah, you can... Mary?" He called to her where she was trying to perfect a turn and failing as she almost stumbled again. She looked up and headed over. "Can you take our photo?" "Only if you're gonna kiss..." she replied, making smooching noises. "Well we can’t disappoint her..." Frank shrugged and Fliss grinned, her smile turning into a shriek as Frank quickly grabbed her hips before he took one hand, keeping the other round her back and dipped her so she was bending backwards, planting a sloppy kiss on her lips. She laughed against his mouth as he gave her a wink, before kissing her a little deeper and then setting her upright, his eyes boring into hers which were shining in the Christmas lights surrounding the rink. "Oh that was great!" Mary howled and he turned to face her as she handed his phone back. Frank checked the photo and had to smile, it was a dammed good shot. He showed it to Fliss and she beamed. "A framer?" She asked. "A framer." He agreed. It took them ages to get Mary to finally leave the rink. Even a bribe of hot chocolate, marshmallows and cookies wasn't doing it. Eventually Frank put his foot down and told her it was time to go as it was almost 9pm and they still had that tree to go see before they headed to Central Park for one last walk in the lights. After handing their skates back and retrieving their belongings from the lockers they followed the path to the tree. As they round the corner Mary gasped. "It's huge!" She turned to look at Frank and Fliss, her eyes wide "Oh my God!" Frank smiled kissed Fliss' cheek as Mary walked slightly ahead of them down the walkway that was flanked with smaller trees and the famous lit up trumpeting angels . As they caught her up he slipped his spare hand in his pocket, his fingers curling round the small, leather box inside. The damned thing had been burning a hole in his pocket since he had bought it in Boston just after Thanksgiving. Fliss, Verity and Bill had all stayed for a very pleasant week rounded off with a damned good proper Thanksgiving dinner and the three of them had flown home on the Friday, as Fliss was starting to stress about her business. He and Mary followed on the Sunday after she had been given the all clear to fly after a week’s check up at the Hospital. On his spare afternoon, he'd taken a trip into the city with one goal, and it had been surprisingly easy. The first jeweller he has walked into had a perfect ring, and despite the fact he had visited several others none of them caught his eye like that. So he had gone back and asked the assistant for a closer look. It wasn't a huge rock, white gold and emerald cut with in a pave setting, but everything about it had screamed Fliss. It was delicate and feminine but with a wonderful sparkle just like her. He knew that sounded so lame when he had told the assistant but she has just smiled and told him that if he had that much conviction, it must be right. He had been lost when she asked him what size, but in a sudden inspiration he had remembered the Pandora ring he had bought her when he had gotten his first new pay check as supervisor. He mentioned this to the assistant who beamed and said she could easily size it from that by using a simple conversion chart and told him to come back the following day. His sudden good spirit had fallen as he explained he couldn't do and asked her to see if here was anything she could do, even contemplating taking it and having it sizes back in Florida. But, after the shitty run of events over the last week, his luck was in after she returned 5 minutes later with a slip of paper, informing him it would be ready by the end of the day. When he had told Mary he was going to ask Fliss to marry him, she'd been so excited. She'd asked when, where and when he said he didn’t know she'd given him the most exasperated look on the planet. The only one of his friend who he had confided in, Greg, hadn’t been much help either, simply telling him to do it in a way that meant something to them both. Simply put he just hadn't a fucking clue. He had agonized over how to pop the question. On the boat? Or maybe a sunset on their favourite spot at St Pete's beach? Did he wait for New York? As such, Frank had taken to carrying the ring around with him, waiting for that moment when it felt right. So far it hadn't happened at home and as it stood New York wasn’t faring any better. He had thought about it at the top of the Empire state, but it had been too busy. Then there was a moment in Central Park after they had been snowman building that might have worked...until Fliss had nailed him in the face with a snowball. So they'd had a snowball fight instead. Then when walking over Brooklyn Bridge, the skyline behind them… then when they walked back to the Hotel after seeing the Lion King on Broadway, going the long way round to see the display in Macy's window all lit up...and then that moment before when Mary had taken a picture of them kissing under the tree on the ice rink... but none of it felt right. It didn't feel like the moment for them. But now something stirred in his gut. This could be it. It wasn't too busy, the place was gorgeous, right in front of the tree Fliss had been so desperate to see... Ok Adler, you can do this. Taking a deep breath he pulled the box from his pocket when he heard Mary give a squeal. "Oh...wow! Frankie look..." Fliss' voice was a whisper and she nudged him, pointing to the base of the tree. He followed her gaze to see a blonde haired man down on one knee, presenting a ring to a dark haired woman who had her hands clasped over her mouth. Frank slipped the box back into his pocket and stared at the man as he placed the ring onto his now fiancés finger and did his best to look like he cared when Fliss let out a soft "Awwww" The man looked around excitedly, his eyes falling on the three of them before he asked Frank if he or Fliss would mind taking a photo for them. "Course not buddy, congratulations." Frank smiled. Fucking prick... ***** "It was AMAZING!" Mary gushed to Verity as they walked to the car, Fliss' parents having come to pick them up from the airport. "we saw so much stuff but nowhere near all of it but Frank said we could go back next year in the summer maybe and do a bit more." "Looks like someone else had a good time too." Bill smiled, nodding to Fliss who let out a loud yawn. Frank chuckled "She was up all night, I told her not to have more food so close to bed time." "I wanted a hot dog and a pretzel." Fliss mumbled, "Besides, it's nothing to do with the food...we did a lot of walking." Bill gave a snort "You ride horses for a living, you should be fit enough to walk round New York" "I probably skated about 4 miles too..." Fliss said looking at Mary "Someone wouldn't come off the ice rink" "You been sleeping ok otherwise?" Verity looked at her "I'm fine mum." She smiled "No anxiety?" 'V, she said she's fine so leave it" Bill said gently and Fliss shot a grateful look at her dad. She knew her mum was only concerned but she was fed up of assuring people she was fine. After the attack from John she had suffered a bout of delayed shock which had manifested in a few panic attacks, nightmares, and restlessness at night and on one occasion nausea. Luckily Frank had been brilliant at keeping calm when she had an episode, helping her work through it and the last incident she had suffered had been over a week ago. Once they were all in the car, Frank took the passenger seat after Verity offered it to him, Mary continued to chat all the drive home about New York, Fliss and Frank butting in here and there. They arrived home little after 30 minutes later and Fliss headed up the steps with Mary, Thor almost sending the pair of them flying when they opened the door. "Oh puppy I missed you!" Fliss smiled as she gave him plenty of attention and he kept licking her face, whining and emitting quiet little barks. "Did you miss me? Did you?" "Yerress" Frank did his best Scooby Doo impression as he walked past and Fliss let out a laugh, as she stood up and headed into the living room behind Mary, bumping into the girl as she stopped dead, giving a squeal as she saw the Christmas Tree in the corner. "Mum, Dad?" Fliss called, smiling "I take it you did this?" Frank appeared behind them both, smiling as Fliss and Mary exchanged a glance before they all turned to Bill and Verity who were stood in the doorway. "Well we know how much you like to get your tree up as early as you can and, well we were picking one up for ourselves so we got you one. You don’t mind do you?" Verity, looked at Fliss then Frank. "No, of course not!" Fliss grinned. "Saved me a job." Frank nodded "Thanks guys." "Can we decorate it tonight?" Mary asked "Pleeeeeeeaaaasssseee Frank!" Frank glanced at his watch before giving a sigh, he knew she wouldn't go to bed if he said no anyway so what was the point? Plus she was at the University tomorrow which didn’t start until 10 so... "Ok, but if you so much as grumble tomorrow morning when I get you up you'll be in deep trouble." He looked at her sternly as she stooped to pick Fred up. "Cross my heart, hope to die, we all know Fred's got one eye..." she chanted off, nodding. "We brought your box of decorations from the annex." Verity smiled at Fliss, nodding to the box on the floor. "We thought you could pick what you want to keep now you're combining."

“Speaking of decorations…” Frank said, looking at Mary.

“Oh…yeah…hang on…” She said, running to the sofa where she had dumped her little pink rucksack. She fished out the paper bag they had gotten from the stall and found the Snowman they had bought. With a smile she handed it to Verity who looked down at it, her face curling into a smile as her eyes started to prick with tears.

“Fliss said you wouldn’t mind the names Mary wanted on them.” Frank said, watching carefully.

“Of course we don’t mind!” Bill smiled, picking Mary up to give her a hug “We are Nanny V and Poppa B ain’t that right kiddo?” “Yep!” she grinned, hugging him.

“We’ll save it to hang tomorrow when you come over after school.” Verity said as Bill set Mary on the floor and she hugged her tightly.

After a little more chat Verity and Bill left and Frank instructed Mary to change into her Pyjamas before they did the tree. Deciding that was a good idea, Fliss did the same and before long they were all in the living room. Fliss and Mary going through the boxes of decorations, Frank wrestling with the tangle of fairy lights. How they managed to get so fucking knotted up after simply being in a box for 12 months was beyond him.

He had just about managed it when Thor came over to inspect what he was doing, and dropped straight onto his back on top of the string.

“Thor…get out of it…” he grumbled, pushing the dog who simply rolled over, taking half the lights with him, tangling them round his legs and his tails. “Jesus Christ…stand still…for fucks sake…”

Thinking this was a huge game, Thor started to bounce around, barking, and Frank shook his head. “Fliss, sort this mutt out….” Fliss gave a laugh and dropped off the sofa, calling Thor to her. He sat down, allowing Frank to remove the lights before he stood up, shaking them out. Together the 3 of them wound them round the tree before they made a start on the decorations.

“Frank got me this for my first Christmas.” Mary said, hanging a red bauble which had her name on it. “The glitter has all fallen off it now.”

“We can add more if you want.” Fliss looked at her and Mary shrugged.

“I kinda like it.” It didn’t take them long, and their wooden trinkets from New York were the last ones they hung, Mary ensuring they took pride of place. Frank then lifted her up so she could place the star at the top before they stood back.

“Ready for the big turn on?” Frank asked, grinning. Mary and Fliss cheered and began a countdown from 5. When they hit 1 Frank hit the switch and the lights on the tree came to life. He stepped back, looking up at it, his arm curling round Fliss’ shoulder, his other dropping to Mary as she grinned.

“Best Tree ever.” she smiled.

“Yeah, and now it’s time for the best bed ever…” he looked at her.

“Seriously?” Mary complained

“No moaning, remember?” Frank instructed her. “That was in the morning.”

“Well I just extended it to now as well.” he said, shrugging “Because I can, so get…” “Fine, fine, I’m going…” she grumbled. “Night Fliss.” “Night sweetie.” Fliss dropped a kiss to her head before Mary shot a filthy look at Frank who met her with a passive one of his own.

“I’ll be in in a second.” Frank shot after her, watching as she headed down to the hallway. He turned back to Fliss who was watching the tree, a smile on her face.

“Not exactly up to Macey’s standards…” Frank chuckled and she shook her head.

“I love it.” “It looks like an Elf threw up on it.”

“All trees should be like that.” Fliss shrugged, before she gave his cheek a peck. “Now, you go sort Mary and I’ll get us both a beer.” “Actually…” he said, looping his arms round her waist. “I believe there was something else you promised me tonight…” “Oh, yes, of course, Frankie has needs…” she replied with an almost uncanny impersonation, which made him snort. “Does that mean no beer?”

“No beer.” “You want me to wait in bed.” “Yes I do.” he nodded “Go, I’ll let Thor out and lock up.”

Grinning she accepted his kiss and smiled as she turned around, casting him a quite frankly sinful look over her shoulder which almost had him hard right there and then. Not wanting to wait a moment longer he sorted the dog, locked the door, poked his head into Mary’s room to wish her goodnight, and headed into their bedroom. Fliss was hanging her jeans in the closet after having simply discarded them on the bed earlier, and wasting no time Frank pulled off his T-shirt, tossing it to the side before he stepped up behind her, spinning her round to face him. He pressed his lips to hers, deepening the kiss as he slid his hands down to cup her ass and she smirked into the kiss.

“I like your ass.” he muttered. “I like yours too” she said back, “And your arms”

He laughed and pulled back to look down at her as her fingers trailed up his biceps. “My arms?”

“Yeah, your big, strong arms, and your big, broad shoulders and your stupid, handsome face…” she muttered, pulling him back down to her. In between the dizzying kisses Frank steered her towards the bed, and as her legs collided with the edge he stopped to gently trail kisses across her bare collar bone. His lips found her jaw and then, with a wicked quirk of his eyebrow he reached down for her thighs, and grabbing them he pulled them forwards, causing her to fall backwards as he pitched them both onto the bed. As she laughed he chuckled slightly before he kissed her again, and then it was a scramble to get out of his clothes as fast as he could before he fell back on top of his girl, his hands pulling up her camisole top, lips kissing at the spot just below her ear before he slid down her shorts, his mouth gently kissing a trail up from her belly through the middle of her breasts, up her neck and finally back to her mouth.

Fliss was utterly lost now, in the usual whirl of love, and lust and passion and kissed him back, hard as his hand gently dropped between her legs and he felt her slick against the tips of his fingers as he gently coaxed at her clit, continuing until she was nothing short of a writhing mess clawing at his back, aching for him. They locked eyes as he took her left hand in his, and slowly worked into her, both moaning simultaneously at the sensation, Fliss’s eyes rolling back at the exquisite stretch inside. Frank began to move his hips slowly, deeply, his thrusts weren’t measured in the slightest despite the fact he was absolutely aching for her. He wanted to take it slow, end what had been an amazing trip in the same mood it had started in, absolute pure love.

His mouth moved back to Fliss’s neck, nipping gently at her skin and she let out low moan as he picked up the pace ever so slightly, his spare hand kept hold of her hip, keeping her as close to him as she could possibly be.

“Fuck, Frank, right there…” she groaned as he hit her spot and he smirked slightly, he loved the way she got like this with him, ever so demanding at times, such a far cry from the timid woman he had fallen for the previous year.

“Yeah?” he panted as she gave a soft cry, her body tensing underneath him “Good.” “So good…” she moaned, arching her back. His mouth found hers again and his hand slid from her hip to gently tease her nipple and she rolled her hips to grind up against him, changing the angle slightly causing him to go deeper.

“Lissy…” he panted as he drove into her deeply, slowly, and then again and again, his pace increasing ever so slightly. Every single sense Frank possessed was on fire and he broke the long, lazy kiss that they were sharing to stifle a moan against her cheek when he felt her clench around him, a tell-tale sign she was nearing her release. The sheets rustled underneath and around them both as his hips pushed up against hers, and Frank saw Fliss’ head tip back, her throat bared to him in utter bliss as she came hard, her moans soft and breathy into his ear. Frank picked up his pace slightly, chasing his own end as he pushed her through hers, and when he felt that snake in his belly beginning to unravel, he gave a low grunt which morphed into a gasp as he clung to Fliss, spilling himself into her, his hips slowing to a stop as he collapsed forward. Fliss gave a soft chuckle as her hands gently slid up his back and into his hair, as she moved and pressed a soft kiss to his head.

“I know I keep saying it but I really do fuckin’ love you Cowgirl.” he said, voice muffled as his face pressed into her neck.

Fliss gave a chuckle “I’ll never tire of hearing it Sailor. “

He moved to look at her, flashing her a grin before he caught her mouth in a sweet kiss. **** "You still not managed it?" Greg asked as they stood at the bar, waiting for their drinks. Frank sighed and glanced at Fliss who was sat with Bonnie in the booth, the pair of them sniggering at something. "Do you see a ring on her finger?" He looked at Greg. "No" "Well there's your answer." "What's the hold up, man?" Greg frowned. "Nothing has felt right." Frank sighed "she won’t want a huge fuss in front of people so that basically ruled out all of New York...bar one moment when I thought it was time, in front of the tree at Rockefeller...and then some douchebag went and beat me to it, proposing to his girl whilst we watched..." "You're over thinking it." Greg said, looking at Frank "Take a step back. When are the pair of you at your best? The time you enjoy most, I mean" "Honestly?" Frank shrugged "at night when Mary's gone to bed and we finally sit down and just watch TV or joke around." "Well there you go." Greg shrugged "What, at home?" Frank frowned "Why not?" Greg looked at him "the point isn't to be showy or flashy but to show her you wanna spend the rest of your life with her." Frank pondered this for a moment. Greg has a point. They were at their happiest doing the simple things, spending quiet time together, being fucking normal. Fliss loved it when they curled up and Frank would simply cuddle her close and kiss her head, easy signs of affection that she had craved all through her wreck of a marriage. And Frank loved it too, because it made him feel grounded, time for him to simply be Frank in his own right, the very thing he used to use his Friday night drinking sessions for. Now he could feel it every night, thanks to Lissy…

And then, suddenly an idea came to him, out of nowhere.

Oh, it was perfect! "Greg..." he smiled, slapping the man on the back "you are a genius." "Glad I could be of service." Greg smirked "This means I get best man duty, right?"

Frank smirked at him, shrugging, not giving anything away. His eyes flicked back to Fliss who had now stood up, Simon having returned to the table sliding in next to Bonnie. Frank’s eyes travelled up her bare legs, from her high-heels up to the short little pink playsuit she was wearing, which was printed with black palm trees and other patterns, the small straps settling on her tanned shoulders, the front showing him just enough cleavage. She was wearing a black butterfly necklace that she had bought in New York and her hair was loose, falling over her shoulders in soft curls. Her brown eyes locked onto his and he smiled as he remembered the last Circle Of Truth Christmas outing the previous year, when he had told her he loved her for the first time. And here they were, now 5 days away from their second Christmas together.

“Hey beautiful” he smiled as she reached his side. His arm curled round her and he pressed a kiss to her cheek “You ok?” “Yeah, just thirsty.” she smiled. “Can I get a water as well as my gin please?”

“Sure…” he turned to look at the bar tender who was pulling their drinks together. Once he had attracted his attention and added a bottle of water to the order he turned back to her as Greg spoke up.

“Frank said you enjoyed New York.” “Oh, it was fantastic.” she smiled “Every bit as magical as I thought it was going to be.”

“Good, I’m glad you all had a good time.” Greg smiled “You deserved it after everything that went down.” “Yeah well, he’s banged up now. His brother is going to go down for Endangerment or whatever it is you call it, its’ done, it’s over.” Fliss smiled, “We got the rest of our lives ahead of us now.” “Well, if that doesn’t call for shots then I don’t know what does…” Greg smirked as the bar tender placed their drinks in front of them.

“No, Greg…” Fliss started to protest but Greg cut her off.

“Yes Greg!” he smirked, turning to the bar tender, “Can I get a bottle of Tequila pal and 8 glasses.” Fliss groaned “I’m teaching at 9 am!”

“Dumbass…” Greg looked at her and Frank gave a snort.

“I told you to switch them out…”

“I can’t!” she pouted “I already did for Boston and New York…” “Well…” Greg smirked as the bar tender set the bottle and glasses down in front of him “Looks like you’re doing it with a hangover honey.” “Fuck my life…” **** Fuck my life indeed. Fliss spent the following morning throwing up, groaning once more that she was never drinking tequila EVER again. Frank reminded her of how many times she had said that over the time he had known her and she’d simply let out a huge fake sob and thrown herself face down on the bed again declaring that she didn’t want to adult anymore as it sucked.

The days before Christmas passed in the usual chaos. Presents were wrapped and stashed under the tree, more drinks were had with Friends. Evelyn visited for a few days, which had actually almost pleased Frank a little. She wasn’t staying for Christmas, her arrangements having already been made, but she had hinted that maybe next year she could, to which Frank and Fliss had both agreed. She had been taken with Mary’s gift to her and had laughed out loud when Bill and Verity had presented her with a case of Malbec, the same Malbec she’d smashed a bottle of over John’s head. Her gifts to them both had been a substantial chunk of money, in the thousands, and when Frank had protested at the amount on the cheque she had waved it off as 8 years of owed presents. Mary’s was wrapped so it was placed under the tree for Christmas morning. Evelyn headed back to Boston on the morning of Christmas Eve, Frank and Mary driving her to the airport instead of her driver, where they had both bid her a Happy Christmas and waved her goodbye as she headed off to spend it with her friends in Newton.

After the final preparations were made Frank, Fliss and Mary collapsed onto the sofa for a Marathon of Christmas Films. Mary was, as usual, excited and the copious amounts of chocolate and candy she was shovelling down weren’t helping either, but what the hell, it was Christmas after all.

"You ok?" Frank glanced at Fliss as she sat on the other side of the couch. Love Actually was playing, the final film of the evening before Mary went to bed. Fliss, however didn't look like she was paying attention. "Huh?" She looked at him, blinking. "I said are you ok? You look like you were miles away"

“Yeah, sorry, I was errr…just running through things in my head, making sure nothing was forgotten.” Frank smiled. They were hosting Verity and Bill tomorrow as Steven and his family were at his wife’s parents for this year, flying out instead of the 28th to spend New Year’s with them all. Fliss had asked Frank if they could host, as she’d never had the chance to do that before and of course he had agreed, not least because of the excited look on her face when she had asked.

“The table is set, food and everything is ready to go…” he chuckled, looking at her “Just relax…”

He reached round Mary, his hand gently rubbing at Fliss’ back and she smiled at him, turning her attention to the TV.

20 minutes or so later the film finished and Mary jumped up, grabbing Frank’s hand to make him dance to God Only Knows as the final closing scenes played out. He smiled and picked her up, resting her on his hip as he twirled her round to the song, the pair of them laughing before he eventually dropped her down and told her it was bed time. She scooted off, Fred trotting behind her, his tail swishing as she skipped and Frank headed in about 5 minutes later to tuck her in, before he came back to the living room.

“She wants you to go and say goodnight.” he smiled,

Fliss nodded and stood up.

“You sure you’re ok?” Frank asked.

“Yeah, honestly, I’m just tired.” she assured him. Giving him a kiss she headed up the hall and Frank watched her go before he smiled to himself, and set about quickly putting the last touches to his plan.

She came back about 10 minutes later and he smiled at her as she walked into the room.

“OK, now she’s out of the way…I got something for you...” Frank smiled.

Fliss looked at him before she shook her head, chuckling a little “I got something for you too…Frank, I have-” “Me first.” Frank cut her off.

She looked at him for a second, his bright blue eyes were shining as he grinned at her and she rolled her eyes.

“Fine…” she smiled, “Ok, you first.” He grinned and then folded his arms “You gotta find it.” “What?”

“It’s hidden, on the tree, and you gotta find it.” Her face lit up as she gave a laugh “You are such a dork!” “Yeah, I know…” Narrowing her eyes playfully she moved to the tree, glancing at it. “Ok so it’s not very big then, seeing as I can’t see it straight away.” Frank shrugged as she continued her search.

“I haven’t put it high up, seeing as you’re a short ass…” “I’m perfectly average for a woman thank you.” “Trust me baby girl, nothing about you is average.” he winked and she let out a snort.

“Charmer.” she grinned, turning back to the tree.

“Ok, you’re miles off…” he said, and she moved to her right “Gettin’ warmer…warmer…ok, yep, nearly there…” Fliss continued to search, and then something caught her eye. There was something shiny handing from the nose of her Doe ornament. She stepped forward slightly, and when she realised what it was her right hand flew to her mouth. Frank’s breath caught in his throat as she spun to face him, her eyes wide.

"You, me and Mary have been hanging out together since August last year now...” he said, clearing his throat slightly “How do you feel about hanging with us forever?" He watched, holding his breath as Fliss' chest heaved with emotion as she looked at him, those brown eyes he could happily stare at all day were full of tears, the hand which had flown to her mouth in surprise was now shaking as it slid to the spot beneath her throat, that dip in her neck that he could nuzzle at forever. "I'll hang with you for as long as you'll have me..." she whispered, taking a deep breath. "Is that a yes?" Frank inhaled sharply and a watery laugh burst through her tears. "Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes!" Frank's face split into a huge grin "shit..." he sputtered before she threw herself into his arms and he lifted her up easily, her legs wrapping around his waist as he held her close, kissing her neck. She pulled back and placed a kiss to his lips, long and short pecks being shared as she laughed and he laughed, the pair of them simply lost in the moment until eventually he set her down and with a shaking hand he reached out to retrieve the ring from where it was hanging. Taking her left hand in his, with a deep breath he slipped the diamond onto her finger.

Fliss looked at it, admiring the way the delicate band sat underneath her knuckle, the beautiful diamond twinkling in the lights of the tree.

"Oh Frankie...it’s gorgeous..." she whispered, before she looked at him, taking his face in both his hands and pulling him down for a deep kiss. "I love you so much."

"I love you too." He smiled, kissing her again before he pulled away, his hands linking behind her back.

"I err, got us some champagne." He smiled, "I know it was presumptive of me but figured we could have it tomorrow if you turned me down." Fliss looked up at him, blinking before she took a deep breath “First I need to get you…just wait here…” He released her from his hold and she turned and headed out of the room, Frank watched her go, blinking for a moment before he shrugged and headed to the fridge, the smile still plastered on his face. She said yes!

Not that he had doubted she would, not really, but there had always been that little bit of fright she may have done. But that was all gone now. As he popped the cork on the bottle he found himself thinking about how he would be doing that soon enough on his wedding day. He poured 2 glassed and headed into the living room with them wondering if maybe a late Autumn wedding next year would be nice, October perhaps when it started to cool off slightly. They could do the beach wedding she always wanted, hire a marquee... Lost in his thoughts completely he jumped a little when Fliss spoke his name and turned to look at her as she stood in front of him, the back of his thighs brushing against the sofa slightly. He noticed her hand was in her pocket, clutching something. Playfully he nodded towards it “I assume that’s not a spanner." He chuckled, referencing the joke they often shared and Fliss shook her head, biting her lip. "No...it’s...a bit bigger than that" With a shaky hand she pulled out a small, white stick of plastic and held it towards him. It took Frank a moment to understand what it was and as soon as he did his eyes widened and he looked at her, then it, then back again.

"You're...we're...no...that's..." he stuttered, reaching out to take it from her. "I found out this morning." Fliss whispered, watching hair reaction carefully "I suspected last week but thought it might all be down to stress and stuff but..." "How, I mean..." "I should have started a new pill packet when we went to Boston but I forgot to take it with me. I thought I'd be ok if I started as soon as I got back but..." "There's a baby in there?" Frank cut her off as he stumbled over his words, nodding to her stomach "Yeah" Fliss nodded. "You put it there." Frank's legs grew shaky and he dropped onto the sofa, staring down at the test in his hands.

2 blue lines.

2 blue lines that had just changed his world forever. "I'm sorry, I know this is sudden and I should have been more careful..." Fliss took a tentative step towards him and he reached out, his hands on either side of her hips, gently pulling her t-shirt up. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to her belly, his forehead resting just above her navel. "I'm gonna be a dad..." he said, pulling back, his eyes watering. "Frankie, you already are..." Fliss said, her own tears once more springing forth. "I know you hate it when I say that about Mary but it's true." He looked at her, a dazed smile split his face into two as he pulled her onto his lap, where she straddled him, and he kissed her, hard, leaving her slightly breathless before he rest his forehead against hers. "Fuck, Lissy..." he whispered, his eyes closed "You're cooking a little person..." She spluttered a laugh, nodding, her forehead brushing his as she did. "Was it made in Boston...is that the right word?" He pulled back to look at her and she laughed, brushing her hand through his fluffy hair as his gently reached out to rest against her stomach. "Yeah and most likely." "It's a little Boston Bean" he grinned and she laughed again, pressing her lips to his. "You're ok with it then? I know it's probably not what you would have planned but..." "Ok? Of course I'm ok!" He smiled "I love you and the thought of us making a little person that's half me, half you...fuck, it's amazing." She smiled and nodded, her voice a whisper "I know..."

"There is one problem." Franks said, his arms wrapping tightly around her. "What?" "You just ruined Christmas forever...because nothing is ever gonna live up to this ever again."

[drethanramslay]

Part 1: Adara

Pairing: Aurora x MC (Iris Everette)

Author's note: Hey guys! Here is the first installment of the mini series. Hope you like it and enjoy it.

Songs: Kiwi by Harry Styles and Nervous by the Neighborhood

Tagging: @agent-breakdance @miyakokurono

Warning: PG, slight swearing and violence and some fluff

Iris rode on her motorbike, feeling the fall wind sting her through her leather jacket. It was five am and there were hardly any people on the usual busy streets of Boston.

Iris enjoyed these moments. Riding her motorcycle, feeling the wind ruffle her red hair, making her look like a tantalizing flame, easy to see, hard to catch. The sun was slowly rising, and peaking through the various buildings as if it was playing hide and seek.

In these moments she felt free. Almost liberated.

But, such moments don't last very long. She saw the hospital's great glass facade and pulled into the parking lot. She took out her helmet and shook her windswept hair. She picked up her messenger bag and walked towards the entrance of the building.

She spotted Dr. Naveen Banerji stepping out of his car. "Hey Chief! Good morning." She called out. Naveen's kind eyes stopped at the red head and he smiled. "Well, a very good morning to you too, Dr. Everette." She waited patiently for the older diagnostician, so that they could walk into the hospital together.

"So, I saw Declan Nash yesterday in the foyer. Is it true that he got his own office here?" Iris said slowly, side eyeing the chief. Dr. Banerji was the most diplomatic person she had met, and was a very good actor. Hell, he had the entire hospital fooled regarding his illness. So when she saw him grimace, she knew that it was true.

Fucking cunt. It would only be a few minutes before my fist would bury into his mouse face.

"Yes Dr. Everette. That's apparently true. And I also learned that Ethan was responsible for this entire... transaction." ."But, Chief-" Iris began before Naveen held a hand up, stopping her.

"You don't need to explain it to me. I know how it went down. I don't blame him or you at all. Sometimes, we need to bite the bullet for the greater good." He said, with years of wisdom pouring out of him. Iris rarely respected authority, but there were very few people who she respected and Dr. Banerji was one of them.

Iris mulled over the words, lost in thought. Soon she reached the locker room where she saw her roommates, changing. "Hey frriiieenndsss." Iris said with a haunting voice.

The group burst into laughter as Jackie groaned. "For the love of Lord Ram, Iris stoppp." She grumbled as she tied her shoe laces. The previous week, on their day off, they had binged watch 'It lives in the woods' against Jackie's wishes. Jackie maybe as tough as a rock, but she despised horror. So they did the exact opposite. She disliked the 'black ghost thingy' and his obsessive need to say 'frrriiieeennnndsss'. She found it creepy and spooky. Spooky because, when Iris was going to bed, she saw Jackie sleeping with the lights on.

"C'mon Jackie. You know I love you right." She said as she nudged her shoulder. "Fuck off. I'm outta here." Jackie picked up her things and headed for the door.

"Don't forget, we are watching season 2 tomorrow night." Bryce hollered after her. She just flipped him off and walked out. Iris chuckled as she hung her jacket in her locker. She was just taking her shoes out when Bryce strolled and sat next to her on the bench.

"Well, your hair looks like sex hair. Who is the lucky someone??"

Iris just rolled her eyes. "Don't talk shit, scapel jockey. It is too early and I need a coffee or four to have the strength to deal with you." Bryce just laughed and stood up. "See you later bro. Dr. Tanaka allowed me to assist on a Whipple."

Iris whistled lowly. "Oh ho, Hotshot. Remeber me when you are famous."

She just shook her hair and smiled. She was in her underwear, reaching for her scrubs, when someone cat-called her. "Nice legs. Putting a show on for me, mia cara?"

Oh god, give me strength.

"Suck a dick, Vincenzo." She didn't bother looking at him as she slid her, scrubs on. He came forward and leaned at the locker adjacent to hers. "C'mon babe... It's meant to happen anywa-" She was done with his bullshit, so she opened the locker door, letting it bang on his face.

"Why you little-"

"Leave her alone, asshole." A husky feminine voice spoke out. Both of them turned to see Aurora standing there, with her hands in her waist and her eyes narrowed.

Iris' breath caught in her throat and she felt flustered. She usually was the one who made people flustered, which she found amusing. She wasn't one for all these- feelings. But, after she met Aurora, she couldn't help but be fascinated by her. She found the quiet, observent and intelligent resident intriguing and someone who she felt drawn to, like a siren.

"What are you going to do? Run to your auntie?" Vincenzo scoffed.

"No. After I am done fucking up your case, my aunt will almost look cute." She said cooly. Vincenzo's jaw dropped and he just turned tail and ran away.

During the entire exchange Iris, almost swooned. Operative word being, 'almost'.

"Careful Rory, it almost seems like you care for me." Iris said teasingly.

Aurora rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Princess. And, how many times do I have to tell you, my name is not RORY?!!"

"Well, I am gonna pretend that I didn't hear that. C'mon Rory, it's a beautiful day to save lives." Iris said as she dragged Aurora by the hand.

Aurora was caught off guard but she would be lying if she didn't enjoy the feeling of the redhead's warm hand in hers. She squeezed it gently and followed her for rounds.

⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️

It was a crowded Friday night at Donahue's. Aurora hung her coat at the overflowing coat rack, praying to God that her coat won't become the new doormat for the pub. She then shoved her way towards her new roommates.

Roommates. That's a new term she was still getting used to. She never really had them before. She was from the hustling city of New York, before she shifted here for med school. She was a day scholar at Harvard Medical school and had stayed with her aunt.

She found herself a group of friends. She never really had friends before. She had learnt from a young age, that people always had an ulterior motive. She was basically royalty. They always wanted to impress her so that they could have a good word with her family.

Her mother was a famous actress, who had starred in various TV shows and movies. Her dad, was a nation renowned cardiac surgeon and her aunt was one of the leading neurosurgeons of the country.

Knowing her family history, it was but obvious that Aurora would get into medicine. As you expect a fish to swim in water, people expected her to nail her SATs and get into one of the best colleges in the nation.

She never really had the chance to decide her own path. She thought that she had escaped her overbearing parents when she shifted to Boston. Boy, she was wrong.

Her aunt's heart was in the right place but GOD, she was annoying. But, she was better than her parents. Anybody, would be better than her parents, who were just a bunch of robots who gave Ethan Ramsey a run for his money.

But, Iris changed that outlook. Iris really shook the walls she had spent years reinforcing. One look at her piercing green eyes, Aurora felt exposed. Usually, Aurora felt uncomfortable feeling this exposed. But with Iris....She was willing to take the leap.

But when she thought about Iris, she couldn't help but feel that she was still an enigma. She knew so very little about the young resident. She could see the fort, surrounding her. Iris maybe laid back and teased people incessantly but, there was so much more to her.

"Hey girl. Wassup?" Jackie greeted her. She shrugged and slid onto the barstool. "Same shit. Different day." Sienna spat her drink while Iris snorted. Jackie just smiled slyly. "Okay then."

"Rory, what do you want?" Iris asked, beside her.

I want to know more about you.

"The usual. Cherry vodka and soda." Iris nodded and then flagged down the barkeep.

"Hey Rory! How was your day?" Bryce asked.

Iris slapped his shoulder. "Only I can call her that. Be more creative, Lahela."

Aurora snickered and nudged Iris. "So overprotective."

"I am your knight in the shining armour. Get your facts checked, Rory." Iris exclaimed.

Everything was great, untill it wasn't.

Vincenzo was right behind Iris, trying to get to the bar table. It would have been completely normal if, he wouldn't have reached down to grab her ass.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. Iris turned around, grabbed his wrist, twisted it and pinned it to his back. He yelped but that didn't stop her. She slammed his head on the bar and kept him there. Collective gasps went around them and someone pulled the cord of the jukebox at the same time.

"Now, now Vincenzo. What have you done?" She asked, her voice so cold, that it sent a shiver down Aurora's spine.

"I-I didn't do anything!!" He sputtered.

She pulled his hand more, make him screech in pain. "Wrong answer. Try again."

He was sweating now. "I-I grabbed your ass."

"Correct. Now tell me, is it nice to molest people?" She asked sweetly.

"N-n-no." He gasped.

"Ding ding ding. That's the correct answer. Now listen to me, and listen good. Next time, if I see you anywhere near me or any girl, and try to manhandle her, I will skin your testicles. And don't feel for a moment think that I am joking. Because I am not." She said with acid dripping in her tone.

She lets him go. She straightens his tacky jacket and pats his cheek. She smiles. "Now run along, boy."

She turns around towards her drink and takes a sip of the smooth whiskey. Over the rim of her glass, she noticed the expressions of her friends and colleagues.

Sienna had her mouth open, with a lettuce hanging out.

Jackie, was stunned while, Bryce had a hand on his chest, taken aback.

Dr. Ramsey's eyes were as big as saucers, which was the most expression she had seen from him.

Aurora had a heated gaze.

And, Elijah had fainted.

"Elijah?!!" Iris rushed and shook his shoulder. He woke up disoriented. "Yeahhh I might have passed out after seeing something so scary."

"I don't know whether to be scared or be turned on." Bryce said, recovering first. "Well, I'm turned on." Aurora mumbled into her drink, so lowly that only Iris heard. Iris was as red as her hair.

"Well, remind me not to ever cross you Iris." Jackie said.

Iris laughed but her laughter was cut shot when she was pulled roughly of the chair by an angry Vincenzo. She was hurled into the table, hitting the back of her head, hard. Glass broke and cut her in the stomach.

She could see black spots in her vision and she froze. This blow reminded her of her personal hell. She was reminded of the monster, she had been running all her life from. The demons haunting her and reminding her that they are not very far away. That they would ways be there, right over her shoulder.

She stayed there, waiting for the next blow when she saw through her bleary vision, Dr. Ramsey and Bryce restraining Vincenzo.

"Hey, hey, HEY!!" Aurora said as she shook Iris' shoulders. "Stay awake for me Iris. We are taking you to the hospital to check for a concussion."

"Rory...stay..." Iris mumbled as she held onto Aurora.

"I'm here Iris. I am always here."

⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️

Aurora flashed the light into Iris' eye for her neural check up. It blinded Iris and she slowly and painfully followed the source of light.

After a few moments, Aurora nodded to herself and switched off the light. "Good thing is that you don't have a concussion. Now about the gash on your stomach, I will stitch it up and give you a tetanus shot."

"But I'm sooooo sleepy." Iris said mid yawn.

Aurora chewed her lip, to come with something that could keep her awake. "Well, let's play the question game."

"Question game?" Iris asked amusingly. "Yap. I ask a question you give an honest answer and vive versa. You can even go first."

"Hmmm... favourite colour?"

"Forest green." Just like your eyes. She added mentally.

"Do you have any tattoos?" Aurora asked as she cut the shirt which was drenched in blood.

"Yeah... Two."

"I haven't seen them." Aurora as she lifted the t-shirt to rest below Iris' breasts.

Yup it it's a mess. She sighed and reached for antiseptic

"For that you might have to get me naked."

Aurora stopped in her tracks. She slowly turned to look at Iris who was giving a shit eating grin. Without hesitation, she dabbed the antiseptic, right on the wound.

"FUCK. Fuck. Fuck. Couldn't give a warning Rory??!" Iris said as she hissed.

Aurora just smiled smugly and said, "Oops??"

"My chance. Why do you call me Princess?" Iris asked. She never really understood the reference behind that one.

"Well, you remind me of Merida, from 'Brave'. You haven't seen it?" Aurora asked as she searched the wound to make sure, there weren't any glass pieces left.

"Nope."

"Well, it's my personal mission to make you watch it. Don't move. I am stitching you up." Aurora said.

She picked up the needle and thread and moved closer to her stomach. "Sooo.... Tell me about your family." Iris froze and the room became so silent that you could hear a pin drop.

Way to go Aurora.

"You don't need to say if it's too invasiv-" Aurora quickly covered up but Iris just reached and squeezed her shoulder, with a soft smile on her face.

"It's okay...it's just been so long since I have spoken about them. Well, my mother was like a ray of sunshine. She was always radiant and positivity just oozed out of her like a waterfall. She had so much love for everyone and she was empathetic. She and I used to sing karaoke in the kitchen while we cooked food. We were not very well off but, she made sure that I never felt that I lacked a childhood. She was my best friend, more like a sister than a mother." Iris said with a small smile, her eyes having a faraway look.

"She died when I was sixteen. Leukemia. She had grown into a shell of a person because of the constant chemotherapy but, her spirit stayed strong. If you spoke to her over the phone, you wouldn't even realise that she was sick.

She always told me, "Adara, always keep your youth alive. Always be kind to people and don't hesitate to help your enemies. The day your curiosity and youth dies, you start wilting like a flower. Never give up and always stay strong." Iris recited from her memory.

"Adara?"

"Iris Adara Everette. It means 'fire' in Hebrew. She used to call me 'little red' when I was younger because of my fiery spirit."

"She sounds like a lovely person. I'm sorry..." Aurora said, gently.

"Nah, it's okay I have made my peace with it."

"What about your fathe-" Aurora asked.

"Hey, are the stitches done?" Iris asked, as she looked down at her stomach.

"Yup. Now, you need bed rest for the next one week-"

"One WEEK??!!"

"-with plenty of water. Keep yourself hydrated. I am keeping you in the hospital for the next two days, for observation and then you can head home after that.

"BUT-" Iris started but Aurora shushed her.

"Doctor's order. Don't worry about your patients, Elijah and Jackie will manage them. Dr. Ramsey is already aware so he has given you the week off."

"Fiiinnneeee." Iris blew a raspberry.

Aurora turned and started disposing off the medical waste and her gloves when she heard a tiny voice saying, "Stay." Aurora turned around to see Iris giving her the cutest puppy eyes, which she could not resist.

"Pleeaaseee Rory?? What if I get a haemorrhage in the middle of the night?? Or or-"

"Calm down Adara, I will stay the night."

Iris smiled a genuine smiled which she had reserved only for Rory. She shifted and patted on the space next to her, on her hospital bed. Aurora took of shoes and settled in the covers.

"Thank you, Rory." Iris said as she nuzzled against Aurora.

"For what?" She asked as she wrapped an arm around Iris.

"For fixing me up... and calling me Adara."

"Do you mind? If I call you that??"

"Nope, infact I love it. But call me that, only if we are alone. " Those were the last words she said before they both drifted into a dreamless sleep.

AAAAAHHHHHH ❤️💖 UWU

Soooooo, how did you like it?? Like and reblog :))

[freddiesaysalright]

Beautiful Mess Part 10

A Brian May x Reader Fic

Summary: Reader works in a bookshop. She meets Brian May and they have an instant connection. It seems to be a fairy tale romance. But, things are seldom what they seem.

Word Count: 3k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @mrs-jack-murphy​, @not-john-watsons-blog​, @simmisblog​, @mirkwoodshewolf​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @thosequeenboys​, @lv7867​, @maymacca​, @rethought​, @brianslittlepet​, @jinxy93​, @stephydearestxo​, @mrcleanisthicc​, @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls​, @readinghorn​, @lookuptotheskiesandsee​, @reedusteinrambles​, @borhapqueen92​, @1204-moonchild​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: So, I’ve had a couple people ask how many parts there are going to be to this story, and I think there is going to be one more part and MAYBE an epilogue. Idk, I didn’t plan this story as well as my last one so it depends on how the next part goes. Anyway enjoy this update!

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9

Part 10 here we go!!!

Things were appearing to fall into place. You and Brian were going strong as a couple. The window was being installed in the shop. You were on good terms with the Kimballs. The prosecution of the man who had held you up was going well because he decided to plead guilty to all of the charges. The evidence against him was overwhelming, and you and Brian could easily identify him, having spent so much time in close quarters.

You were happy about all of that. Truly, you were. But the fact that Richard was dying clouded a lot of your joy. It hung over you day and night. You began to regret agreeing to be with him at the end of his life because you weren’t sure you could stand back and let him go. Then again, that wasn’t really up to you.

You dwelled on this as you got ready for the New Year’s party. Your makeup and hair were already done. You had on a tight black dress and some matching heels. You were putting in your earrings when Brian entered the bathroom.

“You ready to - oh, wow,” he sighed as he took you in.

He looked handsome in his suit. You’d gotten it for him as a late Christmas gift. He complained that suit jackets rarely fit the length of his arms, so you got him something tailored just for him.

You smirked. “You like it?”

“You look incredible,” he told you, coming up behind you and wrapping his long arms around your waist. He kissed your neck. “Good enough to eat.”

You closed your eyes to his warmth and hummed with contentment.

“And maybe I will before the night’s over,” he said huskily into your ear.

“So naughty, baby,” you replied with a giggle.

“Can’t help it, when you look this good,” he returned. 

He pressed his lips to your shoulder. You sighed.

“Brian, don’t,” you said halfheartedly. “If we start now, we’ll never make it to the party on time.”

His lips trailed back up to your neck.

“Then we’ll be late,” he murmured. 

“We can’t, baby, we - oh, Brian,” you moaned lightly when his tongue circled a sensitive spot by your ear, and your stomach turned with fresh desire.

“Just a quickie,” he suggested, holding you tighter against him.

“As much as I want to,” you laughed. “We can’t. We’ll just have to wait until we get home.”

He chuckled. “Very well then. You’ve always been worth the wait.”

You beamed at him, turning in his arms to face him. You stood on your toes to kiss his cheek sweetly. 

“You are so good to me,” you praised.

His shy smile made your heart melt and nearly reconsider your firm stance.

“Come on, dove,” he said. “Charlie sent a car for us.”

Your mouth dropped. “And you were really trying for a quickie?”

He laughed. “Yeah. But can you blame me?”

He gestured toward the mirror again. You did look really hot.

“Okay, I suppose that’s fair.”

Giggling together, you went to the front door. Brian helped you into your coat and then you climbed into the backseat. The chauffeur held the door open for you, and then closed it once you were both in before returning to the driver’s seat.

You looked on the streets of London as the car sped past. The lights and the people struck you suddenly as very beautiful. You were becoming a lot more sentimental about things lately. Just the way the city looked on this lovely winter night made something in your heart stir. You looked over at Brian and took his hand.

“I’m so happy to be sharing all of this with you,” you said.

His brow wrinkled as he looked at you. “All of what?”

“Just...life,” you said. “Everything.”

He smiled at you again and you scooted closer to him. He kissed the top of your head.

“As scary as that night was,” he said, and you didn’t have to ask him which night he was referring to. “I’m sort of glad it happened.”

“Yeah?” you wondered.

“If it made you realize you wanted to be with me, I think it was worth it,” he said.

“Brian, you got shot,” you reminded him.

“I know,” he said with a light laugh. “But my arm healed. That pain passed. And now we have forever.”

“You really think I’m worth all that?” you questioned.

“All that and more,” he assured you. 

You smiled and relaxed against him. The city disappeared behind you as you headed out to the Kimballs’ home. It was remote, since it was such a large building. In fact, it was more of a mansion than a house. You remembered as a child wondering why Richard’s house was so big, when you and your family had something small. Well, small by comparison. But as time went on, and when you eventually moved into the Kimball house, it became normal to you.

Brian, on the other hand, was astounded.

“My God!” he cried. “That’s massive!”

“Yeah, Charlie really wanted to show off,” you replied with a shrug. “It is a bit much for just the three of them, but y’know, rich people will always be rich people.”

“Well, I’m not exactly a pauper, but holy shit,” Brian said.

The chauffeur pulled up to the front door, behind a whole line of cars, letting guests out to make their way up to the door. Brian helped you of the car and then together you climbed the large stone steps. The door was propped open, but the cold bothered no one. The party was packed with bodies, and a fire crackled in the fireplace of each room.

Someone took your jackets for you and then you made your way through the crowd, looking for any sign of Richard or Charlie or Susan. You found them in the second sitting room, with some more of their closest friends.

“Y/N, darling!” Susan cried, getting to her feet to come and embrace you.

“Mama!” you replied, inhaling deeply.

Her perfume had been the same all your life. It had a warm, vanilla scent, and it always made you feel at home. It lingered everywhere she went.

“How are you?” she asked, pulling back to look at you. “Richard told me about the ghastly business at the shop, and I’m so sorry you went through all that. You’re recovering alright?”

“I am, Mama, please don’t fuss,” you replied. “Have you met Brian?”

You reached back and took his arm, pulling him closer. Susan hugged him.

“And of course you were the one who got really hurt,” she said. “How’s the arm?”

“Perfect,” he told her. “Thank you, Mrs. Kimball.”

“You may call me Susan, Brian dear, don’t be silly,” she said with a welcoming smile. “We’re so happy for you and Y/N.”

She looked at you once more.

“All we ever want is for you to be happy, darling,” she said gently, cupping your cheek with her hand. “I do hope you can forgive us for being so blind.”

“All is forgiven,” you said. “You acceptance of all of this means more than you know.”

She beamed and then ushered you into the room to greet Charlie and Richard. Charlie shook hands with Brian and Richard kissed your cheek.

“How are you?” you asked, looking him once over.

“Relax, Y/N, I’m not going to collapse or anything,” he returned. “Do try and enjoy yourself. It’s a party.”

“But you -”

You were cut off when Brian approached and greeted Richard. Charlie took that opportunity to squeeze you in his arms. You laughed as he let go, and you saw he had already had a lot to drink. His cheeks were rosy and his breath smelled of whiskey.

“Papa, you seem to be enjoying yourself,” you giggled.

“It’s a new year, darling girl, which means tons of new opportunities,” he returned. 

He pinched your cheek and wandered off, greeting another guest. You were a bit shocked by his positive outlook. This was also the year he would lose his son. Didn’t anybody remember that? 

You started mingling, introducing Brian to other guests, many of whom were thrilled to meet him. Brian got along great with them, answering their questions about life as a rock star and discussing music of all kinds.

“And what has Queen got planned for the new year?” asked a business colleague of Charlie’s.

“Great stuff,” Brian replied. “The album’s coming out next month, so we’ll be on tour in March.”

“Where will you be touring?” the man’s wife asked.

“We’re starting the US, actually…”

Brian continued to talk, but you could hardly hear. He never told you he was going on tour so soon. That was when you would be heading to Switzerland. You had sort of been counting on Brian coming with you because to see Richard go alone...you weren’t sure you could handle something like that. Now, you and Brian were going to be separated. Disappointment disguised as anger made you turn your eyes sharply on your boyfriend.

“When were you planning on telling me this?” you asked, cutting across him.

“Sometime this week, I suppose,” he said, his eyes questioning you already. “What’s the matter?”

You looked away. “Nothing. I need some air.”

You swept away, leaving Brian confused, and headed toward the balcony. You stepped outside and wrapped your arms around yourself against the chill. Only one other person was out there, braving the cold. Richard.

“Hey,” he said. “You alright?”

He had just lit a cigarette and held it between his fingers. You reached out and took it from him, bringing it toward your lips. His eyes searched your face.

“I thought you didn’t smoke,” he said.

“I don’t,” you snapped, and took a drag.

He chuckled, retrieving another out of his pack and lighting it. You shivered, so Richard wrapped his scarf around your shoulders. You nodded your thanks. You were about to ask what he was doing out here, when you heard your name. You both turned to see Brian jogging out onto the balcony.

“What the hell was that about?” Brian demanded as he approached.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Richard said, and slipped away.

Your eyes followed him to the door. He put out his cigarette, but tucked it into his pocket to smoke again later. Brian ignored Richard entirely, eyes fixed on you.

Guilt started to creep up your spine. You felt you had been unfair. Brian had every intention of telling you he was going on tour, it just happened to come out at this party. But, that wasn’t what  you were really upset about. 

“Care to explain yourself?” Brian asked.

“I’m sorry,” you said shortly. “It was just unexpected, that’s all.”

“What was?” he pressed. “That we’re going on tour? How do - Y/N, are you smoking?”

“No,” you said hurriedly and flicked the cigarette away.

“What’s going on?” Brian said, his tone surprisingly gentle.

“You’re going away,” you said quietly. 

For a moment, you wondered if he’d heard you since he didn’t answer. You met his eyes again.

“And I’m really going to miss you,” you admitted. 

His body relaxed as he stepped toward you. His expression softened. 

“That’s not all, is it?”

You took a deep breath.

“I don’t understand how everyone can act like nothing’s wrong!” you blurted out. “This year isn’t something to celebrate! He’s going to...he’s going to die!”

You choked on the last word as a tear slipped down your cheek. Brian folded you into his arms and you held back another sob.

“And now, we’re going to be apart,” you whimpered. “It’s not permanent, I know. But it doesn’t make that any easier. Especially since it’s when I’m going to need you most.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t even realize you wanted me there.”

A beat passed and you sniffled before burying your face in his chest.

“I think it’s better this way,” he went on. “I think you and Richard will need that time for just the two of you.”

“I can’t do it, Brian,” you whispered. “I can’t watch him die.”

“You’ve got to,” he returned. “You can be strong for him. I know you can.”

You shook your head.

“D’you want to go home?” he offered.

“I can’t, not without them asking questions,” you said. “I just don’t feel much like celebrating.”

“Well, there’s a lot to be thankful for, dove,” he said. “You and I are both alive. We’re together. Your family is incredibly happy for us. That counts for something.”

“Of course it does,” you replied. “But I can’t think about anything other than Richard.”

Just then, you heard the crowd inside begin counting down.

“I know this year is going to be difficult,” Brian said. “But there’s going to be so much of it that’s amazing, I promise.”

You looked into his eyes. 

“We’re going to have our first full year together,” he said. “You can come and see us on tour. We’ll find a house together. You’re going to have a whole new business to take care of. Richard’s passing isn’t going to be easy, but you can’t let it make you forget all the wonderful things coming as well.”

You nodded, snuggling closer to him.

“Five…four...three…two...” the gathering chanted.

Brian’s eyes reflected everything that was magnificent about your life.

“Now, forget everything I just said and kiss me,” he told you with a grin.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” the crowd inside shouted.

Auld Lang Syne sounded over the speakers as Brian’s lips claimed yours. For this moment, as one year died and another began, you could forget your sorrow. Brian was a wonderful, shining light in your life. You felt that as long as you had him, you had something worth being joyful for.

“Happy New Year,” you said with a small smile as you parted.

“Happy New Year, dove,” he returned.

***5 Months Later***

Brian was exhausted. Tour was only halfway over. You were still in Switzerland. He missed you so terribly that he ached, but there was nothing to be done. Richard was reaching the end of his life, but he had not gone yet.

This night, Brian was so grateful to see the bed of his hotel room. He had to avoid after parties and the like because temptation lurked around every corner. Not that he really thought he would be unfaithful to you, but it embarrassed him to have to turn away the women that approached him, and he didn’t like to hurt anyone’s feelings.

As he flopped into the squishy pillows and closed his eyes, he groaned as he waited for sleep to overtake him. He needed a shower, but he couldn’t be bothered. All he wanted was to sleep.

But it didn’t come.

With a groan, he got up and decided to go ahead and shower. Perhaps getting the grime and sweat off would help him be more comfortable going to bed. The shower was hot, and as the water ran down his skin, he spied the scar on his arm from the night he was shot. Naturally, he next thoughts were of you.

The parting was dreadful for you both. You went with him to the airport, and you were a tad weepy as you said goodbye, but both of you held it together. The image of your watery eyes as he kissed you once more was burned into his mind. He hated to see you so upset.

He called you almost every day. You always asked how the show went the night before, and he usually had a great story of something that went wrong or something incredible Freddie did during the show. You told him a bit about Richard, but as the weeks wore on, you became more reluctant to talk about it. Brian understood.

As he lathered some shampoo into his curls, he recalled your last night together. It was really something special. Your lovemaking was slow and passionate. Desperate to feel every inch of each other and commit it all to memory before being apart. It made his throat a little dry to think of the way you had sounded as he had worshiped your body.

Fuck, he missed you.

He rinsed off, grabbed a towel, and dried himself as well as he could. He fished around in his suitcase for a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt. As he slipped them on and crawled into bed, he tried to imagine you were there with him. Your soft curves pressed into him. The smell of your hair sinking into the pillows. The sound of your breath evening out.

Even that did not make sleep come.

He considered calling you, but it was much too late for that. It was about six in the morning where you were, and he didn’t want to disturb any rest he hoped you were getting. The last time he’d spoken to you, you sounded tired beyond belief. Emotionally fatigued.

Sleep continued to elude him, so Brian turned on the television. Nothing particularly interesting was on, so he quickly switched it back off and picked up the book you loaned him. It was a favorite of yours. Emma by Jane Austen. Brian had never read it before. He had read Pride and Prejudice as well as Sense and Sensibility in his school days, but when he went to university, he hardly read any novels. It was all scientific theses and papers. It had been years probably since he’d read a work of fiction.

As his eyes scanned the page, he noticed a place you had underlined. It read “Without music, life would be a blank to me.” In the margin, you had written “Brian.” His heart warmed at the sight. You thought of him even when wrapped up in a book. He was hit with such a wave of affection for you, he once again considered calling you just to tell you how sweet you were.

Just then, the phone rang. His heart broke. Something in his gut told him it was you, and there was no way it was good news at this hour.

He picked up the receiver. 

“Hello?”

“He’s gone!” you wailed on the other end. “Oh, God, Brian, he’s gone!”

A lump formed in his throat at the sound of your voice.

“I’m so sorry, dove,” he said. 

“He’s gone…”

[aion-rsa]

The Best Thanksgiving TV Episodes

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Halloween and Christmas are objectively the two best American holidays. One allows for us all to indulge in our gothic, spooky side, while the other comes along with family and cheer (forced or otherwise). There’s another holiday between them, however, that is at constant risk of being overlooked.

Thanksgiving doesn’t have candy like Halloween or presents like Christmas. What it does have, thankfully, is television. Just like its Halloween counterpart, Thanksgiving comes along in the fall at an important time in the TV schedule. Traditionally, the last week of November is when many network TV shows are looking for a quick boost of creative and commercial energy to get through the Christmas break. And what better way than to do so than with a Thanksgiving episode, where all characters are basically culturally required to get together?

Though Halloween and Christmas specials often get the most attention, there are many fascinating Thanksgiving-themed episodes of popular TV shows. Here are just some of our favorites. 

Bob’s Burgers

Season 3 Episode 5 – “An Indecent Thanksgiving Proposal” 

Fox’s beloved animated series has staked its claim to Thanksgiving as its holiday of choice, which makes sense given that the Belcher clan takes their food quite seriously. Of the many Bob’s Burgers Thanksgiving specials, season 3’s “An Indecent Thanksgiving Proposal” is likely the best.

This episode finds Bob reluctantly agreeing to “rent out” his family to landlord Calvin Fischoeder (voiced by Kevin Kline) to pose as his family for Thanksgiving dinner while Bob poses as the family chef. While this is a strong enough set up to begin with, the episode excels at escalation and goes to some wild places – even indulging one of the series’ favorite recurring gags of Bob losing his mind and befriending an inanimate object. Of course the inanimate object this time around is none other than a Thanksgiving turkey.

Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Season 5 Episode 7 – “Two Turkeys”

“Two Turkeys” is a prime example of what makes Thanksgiving such a creatively rich holiday for sitcoms and other serialized TV endeavors to exploit. Brooklyn Nine-Nine had already long established that both Jake (Andy Samberg) and Amy’s (Melissa Fumero) respective parents were crazy. All that was left to do was to get them in the same room together.

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That’s just what “Two Turkeys” does. The whole family, including Jake’s dad Roger (Bradley Whitford), Amy’s dad Victor (Jimmy Smits), and Amy’s mom Camila (Bertila Dama), decides to have Thanksgiving at Jake’s mom Karen’s (Katey Sagal) house. Quickly, dueling Thanksgiving turkeys are set up, competitive juices start flowing, and a thumb or two is lost. “Two Turkeys” is Brooklyn Nine-Nine’s best Thanksgiving episode but “Mr. Santiago” in which Boyle intends to behead a live turkey certainly gives it a run for its money. 

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Season 4 Episode 8 – “Pangs”

Most TV Thanksgiving specials ignore the complicated origins of the holiday…and perhaps wisely so. For a long time, most sitcoms and network dramas lacked a real capacity to carefully discuss Thanksgiving myth-making while also addressing Native American genocide. 

Buffy the Vampire Slayer, however, had no such misgivings and dives right in. “Pangs” is technically the beginning of a Buffy/Angel two-hour Thanksgiving event. It’s got all the usual Thanksgiving episode trappings: food, friends, and family. It also has an army of Chumash Indian Warriors coming back from the grave to punish Sunnydale for its colonial sins. 

Chuck

Season 4 Episode 10 – “Chuck Versus the Leftovers”

This is cheating a bit as “Chuck Versus the Leftovers” technically takes place on the day after Thanksgiving. But Black Friday shopping and turkey leftovers are certainly a part of the Thanksgiving experience. 

This episode finds Chuck’s mom Mary (Linda Hamilton) and international arms dealer Alexei Volkoff (Timothy Dalton) coming over to Chuck’s place for a day-after-Thanksgiving leftover feast. Meanwhile Chuck’s friends at Buy More have to contend with the Black Friday shopping crowd. This is the definitive Chuck Thanksgiving episode as it highlights what the show does well. It balances the high-octane drama of Chuck’s spy life with his supposedly tranquil home life. Getting to enjoy Linda Hamilton and Timothy Dalton going head to head is just icing on the Jell-O salad. 

The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air

Season 1 Episode 12 – “Talking Turkey”

The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air features a few Thanksgiving episodes over its six season run but its first attempt remains the best. Will’s mom Viola makes one of her rare series appearances here when she joins the Banks’ household for Thanksgiving. 

After the parents see how the kids mistreat everyone’s beloved butler Geoffrey, the gang is forced to cook a Thanksgiving meal on their own. Predictably it doesn’t go well. This is a big episode for all involved but for Viola and Aunt Viv in particular. It’s fascinating to watch through a modern lens, given original Aunt Viv actress Janet Hubert’s steadfast lack of involvement in all future Fresh Prince reboots and reunions. 

Friday Night Lights

Season 4 Episode 13 – “Thanksgiving”

So many of the best moments in Friday Night Lights happen at the Taylor family dinner table. How then could the show pass up an opportunity for a good-old fashioned Thanksgiving episode?

“Thanksgiving” is an excellent episode that also serves as its respective season’s finale. This hour concludes Coach Taylor’s first year with the East Dillon Lions in truly satisfying fashion. Before that there’s still plenty of time for a heart-to-heart with QB Vince Howard and Buddy Garrity’s attempts at frying a turkey. 

Friends

Season 5 Episode 8 – “The One With All the Thanksgivings”

Perhaps no series on television took the responsibility of Thanksgiving episodes more seriously than Friends. Friends has so many Thanksgiving-themed episodes that the entire list could essentially be made up of them. And that makes sense given the show’s premise of friends as a found family in the big city.

For the purposes of this list, however, let’s go with the aptly-named “The One With All the Thanksgivings.” In this fifth season episode, Ross, Rachel, Phoebe, Monica, Joey, and Chandler flashback to all of the Thanksgivings they’ve shared together. Consider this a Canterbury Tales of Thanksgiving … that just happens to feature Monica with a turkey on her head.

Gilmore Girls

Season 3 Episode 9 – “A Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving”

Stars Hollow, Connecticut on Gilmore Girls just looks like a town itching for a good fall holiday. The New England hamlet is the kind of place that absolutely lights up with some fallen leaves and the warm aroma of turkey in the oven. Thankfully, the show agreed and rolled out a Thanksgiving-centric episode in its third season.

“A Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving” adopts the tried and true “accepted too many dates to the ball” trope as Lorelai and Rory are pulled among four competing Thanksgiving dinners: Lorelai’s parents, Sookie, Luke, and Lane. It’s a jam-packed (and tofurkey-packed) episode that still somehow finds the time to introduce the beloved Cat Kirk.

How I Met Your Mother

Season 3 Episode 9 – “Slapsgiving”

In many ways, How I Met Your Mother was the natural sitcom successor to Friends. Like its NBC forefather CBS’s comedy followed a group of friends living their best lives in New York City. Another area in which HIMYM picks up the Friends ball and runs with it is with its appropriately respectful treatment of Thanksgiving.

How I Met Your Mother loves itself a good Thanksgiving episode. None of them, however, are better than the season 3 installment “Slapsgiving.” This episode finds the gang gathering at Marshall and Lily’s house for their first Thanksgiving as a married couple. Meanwhile, Barney is living in mortal fear of the third slap Marshall owes him due to losing a “slap bet.” That countdown to The Slap imbues an already excellent episode with a real fun sense of urgency. 

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia

Season 9 Episode 10 – “The Gang Squashes Their Beefs”

Dennis, Dee, Charlie, Mac, and Frank have made a lot of enemies during It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia’s very long, very creatively lucrative run. That’s why for the show’s ninth season finale, the gang decided to gather several of the folks they wronged together and get to squashing some beefs. And what better way to do so than with a nice Thanksgiving dinner?

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This installment is a one big setup to a dinner table with the gang’s rogue’s gallery at the end and it is all well worth the wait. Some dry turkey and even dryer conservation is nowhere near enough to make nice with the McPoyles, Hwang, Cricket, Gail the Snail, or Bill Ponderosa, but bless the gang for trying anyway.

Mad Men

Season 1 Episode 13 – “The Wheel”

Not many Thanksgiving episodes can lay claim to being their respective series best hours, but then again AMC’s all-time classic Mad Men isn’t just any other series. Season 1 finale “The Wheel” is certainly among the best Mad Men installments ever and it just so happens to take place during the week of Thanksgiving 1960.

The Thanksgiving timeframe serves as an elegiac backdrop and Mad Men viewers are forced to confront what kind of man Don Draper really is. Don delivers the pitch of his lifetime to Kodak executives as he urges them to imagine their latest photo wheel creation not as a sleek, dispassionate time machine, but a carousel that can bring families back home to all the most important times of their lives. Then when Don returns home for Thanksgiving, he discovers what he probably already knew – those times are gone and no carousel can bring them back.

Master of None

Season 2 Episode 8 – “Thanksgiving”

OK, we know we just said that not many Thanksgiving episodes can lay claim to being their respective series’ best but here is another contender. “Thanksgiving” is the eighth episode of Master of None’s second (and thus far, final) season and it’s a perfect example of everything the show does well.

This episode takes a break from Dev’s (Aziz Ansari) storyline in the present to delve into the past of his friend Denise (Lena Waithe). Over several Thanksgiving meals throughout the years, Denise comes to realize her attraction to women, processes it, and does her best to communicate her identity to her mom (Angela Bassett). It’s a touching saga made possible by the Thanksgiving season. It also serves as many viewers’ introduction to the storytelling dynamo that is Lena Waithe. 

This episode takes a break from Dev’s (Aziz Ansari) storyline in the present to delve into the past of his friend Denise (Lena Waithe). Over several Thanksgiving meals throughout the years, Denise comes to realize her attraction to women, processes it, and does her best to communicate her identity to her mom (Angela Bassett). It’s a touching saga made possible by the Thanksgiving season. It also serves as many viewers’ introduction to the storytelling dynamo that is Lena Waithe. 

The O.C.

Season 1 Episode 11 – “The Homecoming”

Mid-2000s teen drama The O.C. always paid proper respect to holidays. Who could forget the Cohen family’s dutiful observation of “Chrismukkah?” But the series’ first Thanksgiving installment in season 1 might just be its best holiday offering ever. 

“The Homecoming” is a wonderful example of everything that The O.C. does well. The plot splits itself in two with Ryan (Ben McKenzie) and Marissa (Mischa Barton) heading back to Ryan’s hometown of Chino to meet Ryan’s brother in prison. That sets up a ludicrous crime arc that would make even the Riggins brothers of Friday Night Lights jealous. Meanwhile, back at the Cohen household, Seth’s (Adam Brody) inelegant juggling of the two women in his life comes to a chaotic head.

Orange is the New Black

Season 1 Episode 9 – “Fucksgiving”

Orange is the New Black’s Thanksgiving episode debuted all the way back in 2013, when Netflix was just proving itself to be a spot for original content. So imagine viewers’ surprise that in the streaming world, you can include the F-word in episode titles.

As is the case in every OITNB episode, a lot happens in this hour-long installment. But with Thanksgiving as the backdrop, there’s a real festive air to the proceedings. Perhaps it helps that Taystee (Danielle Brooks) is set to be released and returned to the real world or that Pennsatucky (Taryn Manning) is praying for the rightful end of said real world. In any case, “Fucksgiving” passionate conclusion makes a convincing case that Thanksgiving is among the sexiest of holidays.

Riverdale

Season 4 Episode 7 – “The Ice Storm”

Riverdale’s Thanksgiving episode is about just as insane as one would imagine a Riverdale Thanksgiving episode would be. “The Ice Storm” (which borrows its name and concept from Rick Moody’s 1994 novel of the same name) finds Jughead and Betty stranded at Stonewall Prep due to an ice storm on Thanksgiving while Archie hosts a Thanksgiving dinner at the community center.

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Of course this episode features cartoonish levels of scheming, but it also takes the responsibility of the holiday seriously. Riverdale spends the episode’s opening once again addressing the tragic death of Luke Perry and his character, Fred Andrews. Amid all the plot twists, the show still excels at putting family first. 

Seinfeld

Season 6 Episode 8 – “The Mom and Pop Store”

Many episodes of Seinfeld feature dense plotting, but even by those standards “The Mom and Pop Store” is a very busy episode of television. These 22 minutes feature Jerry getting tricked by a mom and pop shoe store, George trying to find Jon Voight, and Kramer having some major nosebleed problems.

But the Thanksgiving portion of the episode is what stands out as Elaine gets the invite to Jerry’s dentist’s (played by none other than Bryan Cranston, beginning his fruitful arc of Seinfeld guest appearances) Thanksgiving. Jerry is unsure if he himself is invited, but when dental issues begin to pop up, he decides that a Thanksgiving dinner full of dentists might be a useful place to stop by.

Smallville

Season 6 Episode 7 – “Rage”

While it was cruel for Smallville to wait until after the Jonathan Kent era to hold its first Thanksgiving episode, it’s nice that it got around to it all the same. Granted, Thanksgiving doesn’t factor much into “Rage.” Instead much of the hour deals with Clark assisting his good friend Oliver Queen with his mysterious addiction.

But when the Thanksgiving table moment finally does arrive, it’s a real winner. In terms of pre-Arrowverse WB/CW warm and fuzzies, it’s hard to top a dinner featuring Clark Kent, Martha Kent, Lionel Luther, and Green-freaking-Arrow. And of course the presence of NXIVM’s own Allison Mack as Chloe Sullivan just adds a strange glow over all.

The Sopranos

Season 3 Episode 8 – “He Is Risen”

Many classic Sopranos scenes take place around the Sopranos family dinner table (mostly so Tony can yell at the insufferable A.J.). It’s only natural then that the show would feature a Thanksgiving episode at some point during its classic six-season run.

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That moment comes midway through the excellent season 3. Granted, Thanksgiving doesn’t play a major role in this hour, aside from Janice’s creepy elderly boyfriend muttering “he is risen” during dinner. But this episode is filled with classic Sopranos moments all the same: the introduction of Gloria Trillo, the death of Gigi Cestone on the toilet, and Ralph’s continued seasons-long efforts to dig his own grave. All of those events will factor heavily in the episodes to come, for now, however, The Sopranos is happy to just pass the gravy (actual gravy, not red sauce).

South Park

Season 15 Episode 13 – “A History Channel Thanksgiving”

Over the span of its staggering 23 seasons (plus one Pandemic Special), South Park has revealed a real affinity for holiday episodes, particularly the Christmas ones in which the show can feature longtime characters Santa Claus and Jesus Christ.

In this season 15 episode, however, South Park turns its satirical eye to Thanksgiving…or the History Channel version of it more accurately and weirdly. After the boys are assigned a paper on the history of Thanksgiving, they watch the History Channel to discover that the holiday’s origins are far more extraterrestrial than expected. Soon, Stan and company are involved in an interdimensional Thanksgiving adventure involving wormholes and Natalie Portman.

The West Wing

Season 2 Episode 8 – “Shibboleth”

A “Shibboleth” is a long-standing tradition or custom (often a phrasing or even a single word) that distinguishes one group of people from another. The best episodes of The West Wing seek to understand what the shibboleths of this strange country are…and “Shibboleth” is undoubtedly one of the series’ best episodes.

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It’s the night before Thanksgiving at the White House and the West Wing staff are all facing decisions. CJ has been tasked with choosing between two turkeys to pardon; Toby, Josh, and Sam must figure out how to watch football on Thanksgiving day; and most seriously: President Bartlett has to decide what to do with a boat of persecuted Chinese evangelical Christians seeking asylum. It’s a typically hectic day in the West’s most powerful executive office, but the show explores how one holiday can bring all the chaos to a halt. For a little bit at least.

The post The Best Thanksgiving TV Episodes appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[peachfyzzy]

risotto nero x reader x prosciutto: old friends

I had fun writing this! I’m honestly considering another installment?? I sorta left it open for that, and I really liked where this one went! 

warnings for: sin, sin, more sin, risotto dick

nsfw under the cut 

   Deep down, you knew this would happen. You had spent so many wasted nights screaming your frustrations out into the empty, barren night sky. Now, the stars that used to dot the dark blue canvas lost their magic. They looked more like shooting stars in light of the tears pricking your eyes and blurring your vision. You spent so many nights under them with Prosciutto. Discussing dreams, hopes, fears, wants, needs. Everything and anything you two had stored in your brains. He always seemed to be stressed or pent up in a way, and that would make you work 5x as harder just to see a smile grace his toughened features. He came as quickly as he left- but it didn’t leave you any less damaged. Through bated breaths and snug bodies, he’d always give you little morsels of the truth. You knew he had a team and people to look after, but not much more than that. You didn’t know what his job entailed but his tone alone spelled seriousness. “Bella if I am to disappear one day, you aren’t to go looking for me.” He’d cup both sides of your cheeks with his slender, cold to the touch hands and you’d nod. The words weren’t allowed to sink in for very long, because soon after, your mind would be miles away from the precarious situation you were in. Instead, you’d be deep in the covers, lost within the reverie of your dangerous boyfriend. When you fear that every meeting may be your last, passion comes in ample amounts. The crescent moon above you made you seethe. 

     It was coming up on the 1 year anniversary of Prosciutto's disappearance. You did exactly what he asked, and didn’t go searching for him. As strong as you were, you knew getting wrapped up in more illegal activity would only result in a more broken heart. Until today. The soreness immigrating from your heart called out for reprieve every day, and you decided tonight would be the night. You were going to storm the bar you had met him in for the first time in forever and search. You’d do it night and night again until you were satisfied. Just the mere hope- the mere chance at seeing him again made your heart do flips. How could you resist? Gliding around in your room, you slipped on one of your favorite dresses. The blue shade-matched his eyes perfectly, and you always felt beautiful in it. It had been months since you had even seen it, but you took the lack of crying after seeing it again as a small victory. You looked at yourself in the mirror, admiring your form in the lovely piece. You were more than smitten. Finally, you wrapped yourself in a long coat to hide your promiscuous form. He was always possessive with your body. With a final check in the mirror, you were off. 

☆☆☆☆

          You entered the crowded dive bar with your head down. Your presence turned a few heads, but mostly, you felt somewhat safe in the populated area. Trying not to ruin your lipstick by biting your lips, you took a seat and anxiously tapped the wooden counter. Your mind drifted back to the day you met him. It was a night very different than this. A few people dotted the open dancing space and the music hung quietly in the air. You were dressed up to forget that night, but now, it was the very opposite. Would he be here again? Did he keep track of your anniversary? Would he even remember that you guys met in the dinkey old bar? Checking your watch, you quietly slid off your coat and sat it on the seat next to you. Eyes bore into the exposed flesh of your back. You had to admit, stepping into the night wearing little to nothing in the middle of mafia territory, wasn’t the smartest idea. But then again, those not so smart choices got you Pros. As you traced the rim of your glass with your finger, an unfamiliar warm hand was placed upon your shoulder. 

     “Go home.” 

     You whipped around and took in the tall, muscular man standing in front of you. Prosciutto was very dedicated to not mixing work and pleasure, all but when it came to Risotto. You heard tales of Pros nameless team members, but only truly got to meet the bigger goth male. You could tell he had an undeniable trust for the head of his team, and you two quickly became good friends. His tone was serious, and the way his burning red pupils stared down at you made you feel his worry for you in this part of the city. 

     “You know I can’t…” Your voice was small compared to his. Risotto took a seat next to you and sighed, waving for a drink. 

     “It’s dangerous here and you know that you can go. you just-.”

     “Tell me where Prosciutto is.” Without you willing it to, your hand reached out to grip Risotto’s wrist. It was too big for you to fully wrap your hand around, but your grip was strong enough to convey seriousness. 

     “No.”

     “Then at least tell me why he left.” 

     “No.”

     “Can you tell me if he’s alive or not?” 

     “No.”

     “Th-”

     “I said no. What do I need to do to get you to understand that?” Risotto never needed to yell to make you scared of him. You withdrew a bit, sighing and getting up. It was clear that you wouldn’t get answers from him or from anyone in the trashy bar. As you stood up, Risotto let out the faintest of whispers. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I let you get hurt again.” You turned around slowly, squinting your eyes. He wasn’t one for emotions and just seeing this was surprising enough. “I was foolish to let Prosciutto keep you around. Not only did I allow your heartbreak, but I ensured mine as well.” The pieces began to slowly fall in place. Risotto and Prosciutto loved you deeply. Deeply enough to abandon you in hopes of distancing you from their gruesome life. You almost laughed at the mafia cliche. 

     “Let’s go outside.” 

☆☆☆☆

     You didn’t expect to spend the night sharing sloppy kisses with your boyfriend’s boss, but you couldn’t deny your feelings any longer. The feelings of abandonment, the feelings of heartbreak, the feelings of pure lust. Risotto’s feelings for you were completely new to you. He was always so good at hiding them, but looking back, the signs were visible. He watched you and Prosciutto share a happy life, only wishing for your happiness from the sidelines. Now, you weren’t sure of your feelings. You knew you loved Pros, but the pounding in your chest was from Risotto and only Risotto. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you.” His words were spoken in his normally serious voice, but hid a primal craving. “Ever since he brought you up to the team- fuck.”  His words were accented with feverish, nipping kisses. The cold exterior of the black, unmarked car he pushed you against gave you goosebumps. With a gentle hand, he opened the passenger’s side seat and you got in with shaky legs. The whole ride to his house was a game of not getting hit or running someone over. By the time you two had reached the halls of his unexpectedly large apartment, you were pressed against the walls with your dress hiked up. 

      “Did he buy this for you?” 

      “Oh..uh, yeah.” 

      “I’ll get you another one.” In one motion, the top portion was ripped straight from your skin. You yelped at the show of power and pushed the dull sadness for the dress to the back of your brain. It had been so long since you allowed yourself to selfishly take in pleasure, and an old memory wasn’t going to stop you. Any doubts you had were drowned in Ris’ deep, almost monotonous voice. With a careful hand, he delicately took the pale blue panties and teasingly pulled them down your right leg, leaving all of your clothes pooling at your feet. He took in your body hungrily and finally met your eyes again. Some doubt lingered in his eyes. Was it the fact he was about to fuck his best friend’s former girlfriend? Or was it his fear that he was taking advantage of someone so much smaller? He’d loved you for so long, and now that the time had come, he was panicking. 

     “Take me, Ris.” 

     A chill ran up Risotto’s spine. Those words fit you so nicely. With one harm, he lifted your whole body up and wrapped your legs around his waist. Your bare sex was pressed against the confines of his leggings, and you took a moment to appreciate how wet you already were. Big, strong, and well endowed, Risotto was sure to leave you heaving. After a minute of prepping and shuffling, he finally aimed to take you fully. Inch by inch, you could feel yourself expanding and bottoming out. It was like nothing else, and moans of unbridled ecstasy poured from your mouth. The pictures hung upon the walls bounced with every one of his thrusts into you, and you slowly approached your blissful apex. By the end of it all, you were a mess of moans and sweat- in a fucked out state of disbelief and happiness. 

     That, however, did not stop you from noticing the sleepy, blonde-haired man standing in the doorway, a look of shock on his face.

[piermanwalter]

Megatron’s Weed Dispensary: An Awful Fanfic I am Morally Obligated to Write

Because I noticed my grades weren’t good enough to get into my major, I issued myself an ultimatum: For every percent I get less than 80 for every class by the end of the school year, I will write one thousand words of terrible fanfiction over the summer, as suggested by random people online. You can send me your own unwritable prompts if you want, but bear in mind that the more requests I get, the shorter the stories, because I have 8000 words to get through all of them. (Total combined word count: 1889)

As promised:

Just as the first brittle rays of light shone over the horizon, the alarm went off. Megatron hauled himself out of the chair he shut down in last night while dealing with tax forms for too long.  Pouring himself a cube of energon, Megatron made his way downstairs to the storefront. His past self would probably hate him. Shrieking like a predacon and promising to tear the entire planet apart just so everyone could suffer as he had, Megatron knew it was his own weakness and incompetence had led to their defeat, and was prepared for death. The Autobots, in all their soft and cowardly ways, had let them live in their new society, making sure he was protected from anyone seeking vengeance for the war, albeit with a few restrictions. Some mercy. He would prefer to be rotting in prison, exiled to some tiny asteroid, publicly executed, or even be forced to become a gladiator again. Instead, the great leader of the Decepticons is reduced to managing microeconomics in a tiny narcotics shop surrounded by too many gawking idiots too frightened to enter his shop and actually buy something.

The few Decepticons that had survived the last battle were also doing about as well as he did. Not destitute, but not allowed any amount of power, which he supposed they deserved.  Soundwave works as a building electrician, granted the privilege of internal com reactivation for good behavior. Astrotrain joined one of the newly formed shipping companies. Knock Out became a broadcast host, getting all the attention he wants at the expense of reading out prewritten propaganda drivel. At least they weren't nearly as badly off as Starscream, who was last seen going to Earth to become a stripper or something and never spoke to them again. In the early days of their integration with society, the Decepticons constantly planned secret meetings and vandalized government property, but now, it had seemed that everyone got caught up in their mundane routines and completely forgot about their past lives.

Speaking of which, a seeker who had been nervously pacing through the crowd finally worked up enough courage to enter the shop. What was his name again? Nacelle. A low ranking grunt soldier who managed to survive the war by being overlooked. Now that the best fliers were dead, he finally had a chance to shine as a professional racer. Looking proudly down upon the Decepticon logo the flyer chose to keep, Megatron said, "Still have the mark? Good. What are you here for?" Nacelle cleared his throat in a long burst of static. "It's my fault. We had a chance and I blew it for all of you. I thought I could weave through without getting stuck and-" "What happened happened. It's all ancient history now. Don't let it bother you." The last battle was fought in a series of deep tunnels below Cybertron. The cramped spaces were barely enough to stand in, let alone transform and fly. There was nothing a seeker jet like him could do. "Hey. Um… Boss. I'm sorry, okay? If I wasn't-" "You could have gone to the big pharmacy, but you came here, and my life has gone to slag so hard that this action matters. Ha! You did good."

Nacelle started nervously chuckling, so Megatron had to throw his head back and guffaw as hard as he could in order to get the nervous flyer to laugh with him. Now significantly more cheered up, he said, "Hey! Because I got hurt in my last race, I just got my Level 3 insurance voucher approved! No more weak stuff for me." Nacelle peered greedily into the display cases. "I'll have two centagrams of crystal tetrathyllead, a bottle of uravorite-infused high grade, two octane-cookies, half a kilo-" "You idiot. Don't get yourself killed. You'd be better off following the doctor's orders. I recommend 85 kilograms of the good anticorrosives, not the diluted trash they pipe into you in hospitals, taken over the next six weeks. Pick the brand yourself."

Torn between extreme curiosity towards hard drugs and wanting to obey his leader, Nacelle anxiously shuffled around and took so long to decide on a bottle of Velocitron-synthesized DCI-4A that Megatron started to pity him. "You know what, I'll throw in one of these for free." He took out a case from under a desk and opened it to reveal tiny jars of even tinier gems ranging from ice blue to deep green. "A racer like you should know what these are." Nacelle was shaken from his panicky mood the instant he laid eyes on the little jewels. "Wow! Steamlights! I didn't know there were any of them left in the city! Most of us racers got scared off using them after Fireflight popped two in a row and crashed into the ground at Mach 3." Megatron carefully tweezed out one of the smaller steamlights, a tiny blue cylinder barely bigger than a basketball and dropped it in a vial. "This is amazing. But…wow. These things are super intense." Handing the vial to Nacelle, Megatron replied, "That's fine. If you can't deal with the boost and your turbines detonate midair, consider it the price of failing me in the tunnels. Don't use it until you have fully recovered." His plan of rebuilding Cybertronian society may have died valiantly, but Megatron was still going to look after his troops the best he could.

Megatron's good mood was almost immediately ruined by his next customer. Out of all the mecha to come through the doors, it had to be the Autobot poster boy himself, Ultra Magnus. Glitch. "Hello! I've been making rounds, checking up on the other Decepticons. I really am glad that you are all doing so well. It is a bit suspicious for a mech of my standing to be here, but here I am." After the war, Ultra Magnus, the ever-faithful soldier, had much less to do and had let himself go a little bit. His protoform increased in non-subspacable mass enough that gaps appeared in his armor, but not nearly enough to warrant Megatron's spark crushing insults.

"You morbidly obese son of a Yugo. The only reason I let you in my shop is to marvel at the medical miracle of your sustained existence." Ultra Magnus cracked a sickeningly genuine smile and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't catch what you were saying." The store made so much money off valuable goods that it could stay running from a single sale per day, so Megatron legitimately didn’t care about losing a potential customer. "I'll say it again in a way your idiot prototype cyberbrain can understand. You're a chunk and I hate you." Ultra Magnus was mildly shocked. "Well! I didn't expect you to overcome our mutual grievances this soon, so whatever you say is entirely forgivable. Also I met Shockwave today, and I'm glad to say he was very courteous. Do you want to know how he's doing?" "I can ask him myself. Go eat Optimus Prime's tailpipe. Maybe that's why you're so slagging fat."

"Don't act as though you are different from me." For a second, Megatron thought they were actually about to start fighting right there, then Ultra Magnus winked. "To be fully honest, being here to check on you gives me an excuse to gather a few treats for myself without being caught. You won't judge, right? I'll take half a kilo of hypervisco and three bottles of the ferroin Engex. Ooh. Baltic amber oil from Earth. I'll have fifteen liters of that too, thanks." Deciding that Ultra Magnus wasn't worth the effort to continue yelling at, Megatron measured out the orders and accepted the credits in silence.

Megatron briefly entertained the idea of contaminating all of his product with acid crystals and astatine, but decided against it. He might kill or sicken the slagger before he got caught, and then he'd spend a few centuries in prison, then Prime would argue to put him through another course of rehabilitation, then he'd be stuck in another dead end job under much higher supervision. Like it or not, this Primus-damned stall was all he had, and it mattered greatly to Megatron that he got to be his own boss, make his own decisions, and yell at as many customers as he wanted.

After Ultra Magnus left, the crowd outside thinned. It was getting dark. Nearly time to close. Megatron debated shutting the shop early before deciding to stay open in case a few late night partiers wanted to pick up something fun. Megatron was shaken from his daydream about what his legal consequences would be if he ate forty kilos of steamlights and went on a uncontrollable nitro-fuelled rampage when a minibot burst through the doors, vaulted over the counter, and grabbed a case containing sealed vials of concentrated Berserker Button. As bad as it was for the mighty Megatron to be robbed by a random mech, at least this meant he had something to do.

Leaping from behind the counter to the door in two massive steps, barely remembering to trigger the hard light door shield, Megatron unsheathed the energon blade from his wrist and turned to pursue the target. A pathetic weapon compared to his massive fusion cannon, but he was able to get it installed as a necessary tool of his profession. After all, it's not as if he was lying.  With his massive stride compared the minibot's short steps, the thief barely made it one block before Megatron knocked him to the ground with a flying kick, a bit of overkill for such a tiny opponent. The bot pulled out a beam pistol. Caught up in the thrill of the chase, Megatron nearly decapitated the little bot out of instinct. The blade stabbed into the ground a single meter away from his neck. Interrupted by a regular police patrol, Megatron was more than happy to surrender the thief to them. The little bot had been so terrified the random drugstore he robbed was staffed by none other than Megatron himself that he confessed everything. The Berserker Button was confiscated as evidence, and Megatron was allowed to return home to await further legal procedures the next morning.

Even after the leisurely walk back, his coolant lines still pumped hard, preparing for a death battle that will never happen. Megatron laid face down on the ground for a few minutes, waiting for the feeling to pass. Able to think clearly, Megatron figured that the legal procedures tomorrow would be formality more than anything else, considering the overwhelming evidence in his favor. He'd likely get reimbursed for the Berserker Button, then things would go back to normal. The case was at most going to take three days, barring some stupid Autobot-Decepticon rivalry showing up. Looking back, this was probably not the best day to spew horrible insults at one of the most influential figures of society. Either way, there was nothing Megatron could do about it. He felt a pang of guilt. In the past, he and his army would have bulldozed anyone who dared inconvenience him, and now he was acting like a regular civilian. Just in a day in the life of an ordinary mech. At this point, what did the last six million years mean to him or anyone else?                                          

[waveridden]

FIC: and you breathe (one breath at a time)

Lovelace goes somewhere warm, and quiet, where nobody has any idea who she is. Nobody, except for somebody who died in space six years ago.

Wolf 359, post-canon. 7.7k. Gen, Lovelace-centric, some implied/background ships. content warnings for some discussion of death/grief and PTSD.

With all my love to @travismcelrcy, who helped shape the ideas.

Read on Ao3 || title lyric

#

Sydney is bright in the summer, a constant barrage of sunlight that slams into Isabel full-force the second she steps out of the airport. It was raining when she left Shanghai. Or maybe she’s still not used to sunlight - not blue light or red light or artificial Hephaestus lighting. Honest-to-god sunlight.

Isabel slips a voice recorder out of her pocket and switches it on. “Note to self,” she murmurs, “double-check which vitamins sunlight is supposed to give you. Just in case that matters.” She doesn’t need to record captain’s logs anymore, hasn’t for a long time, but it’s the fastest way to keep track of things. Grocery lists and memories from the old crew and whatever else is worth hanging onto these days.

She left her suitcase back in Brussels, so it’s easy to wander the streets with nothing but a backpack and a vague recollection of places she should visit. She’s never been to Australia before. She’d only left the country once, before the Hephaestus, and that was to go to Niagara Falls for the weekend with some friends in high school.

(Sam had laughed when she told him, and she’d raised her eyebrows, said “You telling me you traveled a lot, Oklahoma boy?” like it was a challenge. It always was a challenge, and maybe she’d feel bad about it if he’d ever stopped rising to the challenge. If he hadn’t met her every step of the way, until-)

There’s a list of names tucked away in her backpack. She’s been trying to visit people who deserve to know what happened. Kuan’s sisters, who grieved by screaming. Victoire’s mother, who’d cried as Isabel told her in halting French what happened to her daughter. Sam’s family, who barely reacted at all. Like they already knew he was dead.

They probably did know, she supposes. It’s not like it was hard to guess.

Sydney’s beautiful. She tries to imagine Mace in the city as she walks through it, slowly. He’s not from Sydney, of course, he’s from some smaller town. He used to talk about it, but she can’t remember the name of it, and of course his files with Goddard don’t exist anymore. There’s next to no proof that he was ever there.

But he was here. She imagines him squinting in the sunlight, trying to read a street sign. She imagines him pointing at some local business and saying that there, Captain, that’s his best friend’s uncle’s ice cream shop. She imagines him painted bright in the sun, laughing with his boyfriend, pushing a stroller.

Isabel blinks. That one felt less imaginary.

He’s gone by the time she looks back, of course. She’s been seeing ghosts for the last month. All of Kuan’s sisters had his smile. Every tall man with a suit and a carefully disarming smile is Cutter. Hell, she even sees shades of Minkowski and Eiffel sometimes, even though she knows both of them are safe and sound back stateside. She’s used to it by now. She should be used to it by now.

She still goes straight to her hotel room. Bolts the door once it’s closed. Moves a chair in front of the door just for good measure. Good things never happen when the dead start showing up again. She knows that better than anyone.

 #

 Getting back to Earth goes like this:

Goddard debriefs them. It takes weeks, plural, because nobody’s sure what to do with their story. Two of the most important people in the company are currently space debris, and the third doesn’t even remember her own name. And all the rest of them are officially dead.

It’s Jacobi, actually, who’s most helpful in moving things forward. Lovelace gets the impression that it’s because he wants to get out of there as fast as possible, but she has to admit, it’s nice having someone who knows people. Kepler’s name pulls weight, and by extension so does Jacobi’s. It gets things in motion, even with the gaps in the power structure.

The process is also kept completely secret from the public, which they probably weren’t supposed to figure out. Jacobi guesses as much on the second day, snorts and says “it’d look bad for them to be caught in a lie this big,” and that’s supposed to be that. It’s hard to bring people back to life, in terms of paperwork. Probably a nightmare.

But they’re debriefed. They see doctors, who don’t know what to do with Lovelace, human and also decidedly not. They see therapists, who kind of wave Lovelace off because there’s absolutely nothing in their repertoire that could help them deal with aliens. They sit in corporate meeting after corporate meeting where Lovelace tries to focus on getting out and not how badly she wants to rip this company to shreds.

Goddard lets them go on a Tuesday morning. They reach Minkowski’s husband that night, living just outside of Boston, and all of them pile into a house that seems far too empty for one man. Lovelace gets a bedroom to herself. They figure out how to install Hera in the house, because Doug refuses to let her live in a box. She’s up and running by Wednesday morning.

Jacobi’s gone by Wednesday afternoon without so much as a goodbye. It stings, maybe more than it should, but Lovelace has faith that he’ll come back one day. If only because he’s bored.

By the early hours on Thursday she has a list of cities. Shawnee, Brussels, Shanghai, Sydney. She writes and crosses out Moscow a dozen times - even if Selberg was hers he also decidedly wasn’t, and she doesn’t owe that man any more of her sympathy - and does the same for New York City. Who says you can’t go home? Probably other people whose entire families think they died in space years ago.

She makes a second list for good measure. Victoire used to wax rhapsodic about the summer she spent in Iceland, and Kuan had endless stories about visiting cousins in Hawaii. Sam traveled constantly, which she wouldn’t expect from someone from Oklahoma, but he wanted to see the world. Or, no, he felt like it’d be a shame if he didn’t. A shame? An embarrassment? It’s hard to remember his exact words.

It’s hard to remember his exact voice.

Lovelace lifts her voice recorder, brand new, purchased from a RadioShack with a shiny Goddard-issued credit card. “Get back in touch with Canaveral, see if they have any of Lambert’s old logs somewhere. Shake them down if you have to.”

Isabel Lovelace has a valid passport Thursday night. She says her goodbyes on Friday morning, promises to call and hugs Eiffel a little tighter than she should and leaves. She has more ghosts than the rest of them. It’s time to put them to rest.

 #

 The problem, which she learns in Oklahoma, is that as much as she wants to get this over with, she can’t start with the families. She tells Sam’s mother what happened one day, his father the next, and then if she stays in Oklahoma for one more goddamn second she thinks she’s going to suffocate, so she’s in Brussels the day after that.

(“That could just be an effect of Oklahoma,” Minkowski - no, Renee says, when Isabel calls her, now in Brussels and still not quite breathing right. “I mean, I’ve never really been there, but it sounds… like Oklahoma.”

“Maybe,” Isabel allows. “But if I’m going to be here, I should start with the tourist thing, right? Instead of just jumping in with the… bad news.”

“The tourist thing,” Renee echoes, in that voice that means she’s not laughing at Isabel, per se, but she’s definitely laughing and it just so happens that Isabel said something funny. “You mean relaxing?”

“I guess I do.”

“You’ve earned it.”

She has. She’s earned it and re-earned it and the universe probably owes her a full year of not dealing with other people’s problems at this point. “Then maybe I’ll stay in Belgium for a while.”

“Just make sure you call,” Renee says, soft and careful. She never says goodbye, only asks for Isabel to call again. And she always does.)

It takes two weeks in Brussels before she has the stomach to find Victoire’s family. After that she stops over in Moscow for all of two days, just to see the sights, and then it’s three weeks in Shanghai. And of course, by the end of that she’s ready to snap in half, so she takes a week for herself in Thailand to recover.

Sydney is warm, not as warm as Thailand but also sunnier. It’s not quiet, but it’s just her and her ghosts there. And it’s going to take a little more work to track down Fisher’s boyfriend - she knows his name’s Corey, he’s a history teacher, and he lives somewhere reasonably close to Sydney - so she might as well take another break.

She ends up on a beach, one of the quieter ones. It’s a weekday morning so it’s not terribly crowded, just a few families that Isabel makes a point of staying away from, carving out her own quiet corner in the sand. She sets up with a towel and an umbrella and a stack of books that she got from airports and-

-and her phone starts ringing.

Isabel sighs. It’d be easy, it’d be so easy to just ignore it, but the fact is not a lot of people call her. This number isn’t in enough databases to get calls, and it would be… inconsiderate if she didn’t take full advantage of Goddard generously footing all her bills for a little while. Including the bill for international calls.

She smoothly reaches into her backpack, resting a carefully-calculated arm’s length away from her on the sand, and swipes to answer. “You’ve reached the phone of Isabel Lovelace. I’m currently unavailable because I finally got to a real beach where I can relax for a while, so leave a message if-”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is this a bad time?” Hera asks, not sounding sorry at all.

Isabel rests back on her towel. “No, Hera, it’s not. Unless there’s an emergency, because I am halfway around the world right now and can’t help.”

“No emergencies. Thank god.”

She smiles, relaxing a little as she does. “And you’re bored?”

“Horribly.”

“What do you do now that nothing’s constantly going wrong?”

“Not much,” Hera admits. “I’ve been teaching myself new languages.”

“Programming language or human language?”

“A bit of both?”

“Of course,” Isabel says. She thinks idly that maybe she would’ve been sarcastic about that, once upon a time, but now it comes out fond. Indulgent. Hera complained about being in a house and how it was so much smaller than the Hephaestus, but now she has the Internet. There’s only so much complaining she can do with the entirety of human knowledge at her fingertips. “How’s everyone?”

Hera hums. “Minko- uh, Renee- shoot. Is it weird that I’m still having trouble with that?”

“It’s only been two months, Hera.”

“But I talk to her every day.”

“And how many days did you call her Minkowski?”

“More than sixty,” Hera admits. “Okay. Uh, Renee’s looking for jobs, although nobody’s really sure what kind of thing she should look for. Doug’s a waiter now, all the customers love him.”

“And everyone’s in one piece?”

“In one piece.” She says it so proudly that Isabel can’t help but smile. “And Renee’s been helping me practice my French.”

“Do you need to practice?”

“Of course I need to practice, just because I know the whole language doesn’t mean I know how to speak it right.”

“One of these days, you should learn a made-up language. Or make your own.”

“I’ve already looked into making up my own, but it’s not as easy as you might think. It’s kind of a fun side project, it’d be nice to talk to a linguist or something sometime. Figure out how-”

“Lovelace?” says someone, about three feet to her right.

She drops her phone. She hadn’t noticed anyone coming towards her, and these days there’s no way to tell if it’s someone hostile or not. From the other end of the phone Hera says something but Isabel’s hand is already halfway into her bag, where she has a knife waiting for her, and she looks up to see who it is and squints against the sunlight and-

“Lovelace,” says Mace Fisher, like he thinks she’s going to disappear.

Slowly, Isabel pulls her hand away from her backpack and lifts her sunglasses, just as Fisher - it can’t be, it has to be - drops to a crouch, then his knees. His hair’s longer now, curling in loose spirals around his cheeks. He has the same scar down one side of his nose. He’s wearing the most horrific swim trunks that she’s seen in her entire life, and he’s staring, and he’s here.

“Fisher,” she says, and he gulps, and suddenly her eyes are stinging. He sits back on his heels, looking winded, and Isabel remembers her phone. She snatches it up and takes a deep breath. “Hera.”

“Ca- Isabel, what’s going on, is everything okay?”

Is everything okay. Of course, everything’s fine. Just Lovelace and her ghosts again. “I’m going to have to call you back.”

“That’s not a yes.”

“I don’t know yet, Hera.” She’s still watching him, of course she is. He looks somewhere off over Isabel’s shoulder, mouths something that she doesn’t bother to try and understand. He must not be here alone. “It’s… complicated.”

“Are you safe?”

“I think so.”

“Call us back,” Hera says, voice small. “Just- just to be on the safe side.”

“Of course,” Isabel says, and hangs up. Fisher is still there, so that’s a good sign, probably. If this isn’t real then at least her brain is collapsing all at once. Hell, they have no idea what the sun’s radiation is going to do to her weird alien brain. Maybe long-term exposure induces hallucinations. Maybe this is the last thing she sees before her internal organs turn to soup. It could be worse, she figures.

Fisher’s still staring at her.

“So,” she says carefully. “This… is new.”

“You died in space,” Fisher says. “I don’t know if you heard.”

“No, I’ve been told.” She looks him up and down. She listened to him die, during that meteor storm. They all did. “You… also died in space.”

He snorts. “Apparently not.”

They never found a body. Of course they didn’t, it was deep space, but they never had anything to remember him by, other than what he left behind. “Apparently not,” she agrees, and her voice is a little thicker than she expected. “How about that?”

Fisher swallows. “The others-”

Isabel’s breath catches. None of the others had been home, when she visited. “They- Mace-”

“Oh,” Fisher breathes, and lunges forward. Isabel lets him, reaches out, pulls him in. And he feels real, not like a hallucination, not a ghost. He’s as real as she is and he’s squeezing her like he’s trying to make sure of it, one hand pressing her head into the crook of his shoulder. “Captain-”

“Oh, god, don’t call me captain,” she laughs, and he huffs out something like a sob, warm against the back of her neck. “I’m nobody’s captain anymore, got it?”

“Aye-aye,” Fisher says, and fans one of his hands out on her back. Isabel laughs again and her eyes are still stinging but she’s not crying, she can’t cry until she understands. “What are you doing here, anyways?”

Isabel sits back on her heels, keeping one hand pressed against Fisher’s shoulder. Just in case he disappears. He pulls away too, a little reluctantly, but one of his hands drops to her knee. “I was, uh. Trying to say goodbyes, you could call it.”

“Ah,” Fisher says. “I take it you haven’t been back long, then.”

“A couple months.” She shrugs. “Goddard… wasn’t interested in letting us go.”

Fisher raises his eyebrows. “Us.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I can imagine.”

“What about you?” Isabel rubs a hand across her eyes, probably scrubbing salt and sand into them, which has to be why the stinging doesn’t go away. “What… how long have you been back?”

Fisher shrugs. “Five years, give or take.”

“So you got back after the first mission.”

“First mission,” Fisher repeats, something like dread creeping into his voice. “Captain-”

“Isabel.”

“If you’re Isabel then I’m Mace.”

Isabel nods and takes a deep breath. “It’s… a really long story. It’s one I can tell you, but-”

“Daddy!” a child’s voice shouts, from somewhere behind Isabel. Mace is on his feet in a flash, so fast that she barely has time to mourn the loss of contact before he’s off and running. It’s just enough to make her panic, so she whips around, climbing to her feet in the process. Her sunglasses tilt dangerously to one side, threatening to fall off, and she manages to settle them back on her face just as she spots Mace again.

He’s crouching low, looking seriously between two kids. Twins, if Isabel had to guess, both of them dark-haired and olive-skinned. They don’t look anything like Mace, but one of them has the same stubborn mouth, and one has the same honest eyes. His kids, if ever she’s seen them.

Cautiously, she takes a couple of steps closer. Mace doesn’t notice, talking in a low, serious voice to the twins. “Five minutes, alright? Five more minutes on the sand and then we can go back in the water, how does that sound?”

“But Kuan said he’s gonna squish my sand castle,” says the one with Mace’s mouth, and Isabel nearly takes a step back. “And I don’t want him to!”

Mace looks seriously at the twin with his eyes. “Kuan.”

“I’m not gonna squish it,” Kuan mutters. “But Sam said his was better than mine, and that’s not nice. ”

Mace turns back to the other twin, looking exasperated. “Sam-”

“Mine’s better,” Sam protests, but he falters instantly and turns to his brother. “I’m sorry, Kuan. You’re right, it wasn’t nice.”

“I’m sorry I said I was gonna squish yours,” Kuan says seriously. “That wasn’t nice either.”

“Good job, boys,” Mace says, and both of the twins brighten up instantly. It figures that Mace would have the most well-adjusted kids Isabel has ever seen. “Daddy just needs three more minutes to talk to his friend, and-”

“Friend?” Sam demands, and both twins turn to her immediately, with that uncanny perceptive stare that children always have.

Isabel’s hands are shaking. She notices it sort of absently, the same way she notices there’s a man with a sleeping baby lying on his chest watching them intently, the same way she notices that the only clouds in the sky are wispy and light and dreamlike. Like it doesn’t affect her that she’s having trouble breathing.

She glances at Mace, over the tops of her sunglasses, and he nods slightly, so she takes a couple steps forward and drops into a crouch next to him. “Hi, guys.”

“You’re friends with Daddy?” asks Kuan.

Isabel nods. “I am. I used to work with him, a long time ago.”

“In space?”

“Yes, in space.”

“Whoa,” Kuan whispers. “Was he cool?”

“The coolest.”

Mace snorts and nudges her with his shoulder, still as solid and real as anything. “Second after you, maybe.”

“Oh, definitely,” Isabel says, with an exaggerated nod, and both of the twins giggle. “But, you know, it’s hard to measure up to me.”

“Daddy’s cool!” Sam bounces up and down. “This one time, this one time he was making pancakes, and he flipped them in the air!”

“In the air?” Isabel repeats, trying to sound like it’s the coolest thing she’s ever heard. “You know, that might just be cooler than me.”

“Never, Captain,” Mace mumbles, and Isabel rolls her eyes. Maybe she shouldn’t teach kids to roll their eyes, but if they’re living with Mace, they’re probably going to be supernaturally patient. Someone has to teach them. “Boys, we can go in the water as soon as I’m done talking to Miss Isabel, alright?”

“Miss Isabel?” Kuan turns so he’s looking at her and leans in, putting his face very, very close to hers. It takes all her self control not to pull back. Children can smell fear, or something. “Like baby Izzy?”

“Baby Izzy,” Isabel repeats. “Is that… a TV show, or something?”

Kuan giggles. “No, silly, it’s our sister!”

“Sister,” Isabel echoes, feeling like a broken record. They have a sister named Isabel. That can’t be right. She turns, carefully, to look at Mace, who is staring intently at the sand by her feet. “Mace.”

“Middle name’s Victoire,” he mumbles, and meets her eyes, looking sheepish. “There’s not a lot else you can do to remember people, these days.”

She understands. When the world has already mourned and moved on, when Isabel’s mission to say her goodbyes was met only with acceptance and grief that’s still heavy on her skin, there’s not much else to do, other than remembering. He had to grieve already, without her.

“Mace,” she says again, her throat so thick that it hurts to say. She swallows a couple times, until she feels like she can breathe again, and says, “We can talk later.”

“Yeah?” Mace says, and she wonders if he expected her to want to talk to him. He looks so… hopeful.

“Yeah.” She takes a deep breath. “I can… you know, I brought books. I have a cell phone that I mostly understand how to use. I can kill time.”

Mace laughs. “Yeah, those have changed a lot. You want to come in the water with us?”

Isabel has gone swimming once, in the last two months. It was in a Goddard facility, for some kind of fitness check-up. It’d been nice at first, cool and refreshing. Chlorine is one of those things that she’d forgotten, not unlike the exact flavor of potato chips and how to talk to children, and she’d even appreciated the sting in her eyes.

It’d taken eight minutes and forty-one seconds, as per her official Goddard chart, before the panic set in. Before the water stopped feeling like water, and all she knew was that she was floating, and if she was floating she must’ve been back in space, back on the Hephaestus, and if she was on the station then she wasn’t safe, and-

Nine minutes. A new record, said the Goddard tech who was observing her. Most former astronauts don’t even make it to five.

“Maybe later,” Isabel says. As long as her feet are on the ground, she should be fine.

“She can sit with me,” someone says, off to one side. It’s the man with the sleeping baby, still watching them. He has one hand resting on the baby’s back, and he looks relaxed, but his eyes are as sharp as anything she’s ever seen. “If you want.”

Isabel nods slowly. “I think I’d like that.”

Mace reaches out and brushes some sand off one of Isabel’s knees, leaving his hand to rest on her thigh. “Alright.”

“Alright,” Isabel repeats, and looks back at the twins. “Sam. Kuan.” She has to take a deep breath, because fuck, even that is hard to say, isn’t it? How does Mace do it every day? “It was very nice meeting you.”

“You too,” Kuan says, very seriously. Just like any kid trying to pretend to be a grown-up. It reminds her of Hui, of her Kuan.

“Are you gonna still be Daddy’s friend?” Sam asks. “Because you look like a good friend.”

A good friend. A good captain who lost her crew and barely scraped out with her second crew. A good person trying to say her goodbyes.

“I will be his friend,” she says. It’s too awkward and stilted for a kid but it’s all she can manage. Friends are hard to come by these days.

Mace squeezes her leg and gets to his feet. “Who’s ready to go in the ocean!”

The twins both scream in excitement, and Isabel glances back at the man who is most certainly Corey. “You mind if I bring my things over?”

“Course not,” Corey says, amiable as anything. “Although I hope you don’t mind that I’m going to be asking you a few questions.”

Isabel smiles faintly. None of them talked about Their People Back Home too often, at least not in the first few hundred days, but she still remembers Mace talking about his boyfriend. He used to say Corey was smart. And suspicious. She can see that already.

As soon as she settles in next to him, Corey points out towards the water. “I had to come to Sydney for a work conference. It was Mace’s idea to make a trip out of it and bring the kids, and he’s been wrangling all three of them by himself for most of the week.”

Isabel follows where he’s pointing. Mace is in the shallows of the ocean, each twin holding his hand. Every time a wave comes in, no matter how small, they all try to jump over it. She can hear the twins shrieking and laughing, and Mace laughing with them. “How old are they?”

“They turned four last month.” Corey smiles faintly. “He was self-conscious about the name thing. Originally it was going to be Samuel Kuan, and then we found out we’d be adopting twins.”

“And you were okay with it?”

“Of course. My boyfriend comes back from space, from the actual dead, and says he wants to name the kids after the people he lost? What kind of a person would say no?”

Isabel nods, and looks at the baby still asleep on Corey’s chest. “She’s quiet.”

Corey snorts and strokes the baby’s - Izzy’s back, smiling down at her. “Tired herself out screaming earlier.”

“I hear that babies do that.”

“You have no idea.”

“How did he come back?”

“We’re still not sure,” Corey admits, and looks back out towards Mace and the twins. “He says the last thing he remembers is getting knocked off the station by a meteor, and then next thing he knows he’s back on the station two years later with nobody but that doctor of yours there.”

Something cold creeps up Isabel’s spine. “And what did the good doctor do?”

“Lied to everyone who came to rescue them.”

“Lied?”

“Said that there was some kind of misunderstanding, that Mace had been with them the whole time in a coma.” Corey shakes his head. “They made it back to Earth and Selburg disappeared. Mace looks for him sometimes.”

“That’s good of him,” Isabel says, because it is. Even if Hilbert doesn’t deserve a damn good thing anymore. Even if he infected Mace with Decima for the sake of research, for some greater good that turned out to be no good at all. Maybe it was his penance, bringing Mace back to Earth. After all, he knew the theta scenario. He probably knew there was no point in running experiments on an alien.

“You don’t sound like you mean it.” Corey looks at her, eyes narrowing. “Do you know how he came back?”

Isabel exhales. “I do.”

Corey takes a deep breath. “I’m not going to ask you to explain, but Mace will.”

“I know.”

“And be careful, when you do. Whatever it is, he already has questions.”

“What kind of questions?

“Doctors have been saying he’s in peak condition for the last five years. They also keep saying that he breaks some of their equipment.”

Psi waves, Isabel thinks. Psi waves, or alien biology, or one of those other things that Pryce and Cutter went on and on about.

Because he’s like her.

“I’ll be careful,” she says, and turns away from Corey’s eyes, back towards the shoreline. One of the twins jumps too high and crashes to his knees in the water. Mace lets go of his hand, just long enough to scoop him up and balance him on his hip. “I’ll tell him the truth, if he asks, but I’m not going to scare him away or anything.”

“Good,” Corey says quietly. “And I know we’ve never met before, but I’m glad you’re not dead.”

Isabel quirks a smile. “Thanks. I’m glad he came back to you.”

“Me too,” Corey murmurs. Mace picks up the other twin now, holding them both carefully, like it’s nothing. Like he was made to hold them. “Me too.”

 #

 Mace and Corey have to leave first, because when you have three kids you need to feed them lunch. They leave Isabel with Mace’s phone number, Corey’s number in case Mace’s phone dies, and a small collection of seashells that Kuan picked out for her.

(“I didn’t get her anything,” Sam whispers, looking absolutely horrified, and then proceeds to dump a child-size fistful of sand on each of Isabel’s thighs. “Is mud good for your skin?”

Mace, who’s reapplying sunscreen on Kuan, takes one look at Isabel’s face and laughs so hard that he has to sit down.)

And then they’re gone, and it’s Isabel, by herself on a beach. Just like she wanted.

The breeze keeps blowing. The air still tastes like salt. The waves keep crashing on the sand. There are still families around, but a few have filtered out, probably to go to lunch or school or whatever else families in Sydney have to do. Maybe they’re on vacation. Maybe they’re just passing through. Maybe she’s just passing through, although she’s not sure where exactly she’ll go after this. She still has that list: Reykjavik for Victoire, Honolulu for Kuan, Sao Paulo and Quebec and Copenhagen and San Francisco for Sam. Disneyland. New York. Boston.

She doesn’t remember getting to her feet, but the next thing she knows she’s standing in the shallows. The water’s around her ankles, lapping against her calves, gritty with sand and salt. It feels good. It’s grounding.

She’s holding her cell phone. Slowly, she punches in the numbers and holds her breath.

Renee picks up on the second ring. “Hey! I was just about to call you, I got a package from Goddard today. Apparently they archived all of your crew’s old logs on analog recorders. Less of a chance of a hacker accidentally finding some of Goddard’s dirty laundry. Hera and Dom are going to try and convert them to digital for you, although you can always come pick them up in person.”

Isabel swallows. The world seems too bright, suddenly. She’s not used to the sunlight, she might never be used to the sunlight again, she spent seven years in deep space and she was dead for three of those. Or maybe she was only alive for two of them.

She remembers Lambert’s voice. Or maybe she just remembers a ghost of it. It’d be another thing, another thing entirely, to have his logs. Or to have him in front of her. The way Mace was.

“Isabel?” Renee says cautiously. “Are you there?”

“There’s a baby here named after me,” Isabel says abruptly. It seems like the easiest entry point.

Renee goes quiet. Isabel takes the opportunity to lower herself so she’s sitting in the water. She’d forgotten what sand felt like, but it’s the kind of muddy sand that’s easy to bury your toes in. She has one foot halfway covered in mud when Renee finally says, cautiously, “We’ve only been back for two months.”

“I know.”

“That’s not enough time for that to happen.”

“She was adopted.”

“Who adopted her?”

“Mace Fisher, from my old crew.”

Another silence. This one only lasts long enough for Isabel to get the toes of her other foot into the sand, before: “Is there some kind of an explanation for this?”

“I think it’s another theta scenario.” She pauses. “Actually, I’m sure of it, because the only other option is that I just vividly hallucinated a two-hour encounter with five people, only one of whom I’d ever met before.”

“Who were the other four?”

“His partner and kids.”

“You never met them?”

“Never had the chance. Kids are all under the age of four anyways. For all I know-” Isabel swallows, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that her voice cracked. For all she knows it was just wishful thinking.

Renee sighs noisily. “Did you look them up on Facebook?”

“What?”

“Facebook. Finding a profile page to see if you were imagining them.”

Isabel blinks. “No.”

“Alrighty then,” Renee says briskly. It’s kind of a comfort: all business, no question of what it means if Isabel is seeing things, just another fact-finding mission. Isabel can hear her tap a few buttons, and then: “Hera, you busy?”

“No,” Hera says immediately. “No, I’m- Isabel! You hung up so fast earlier, was everything okay?”

“I ran into one of my old crew members,” Isabel says, as no-nonsense as she possibly can. Renee’s certainly not fooled, but Hera just might be, if she plays her cards right. “We’re trying to figure out what’s going on.”

“We’re looking for a Facebook page,” Renee explains. “Or some other kind of social media.”

“Ooooh, finally, something interesting!”

Isabel grins. She can’t see Renee, all the way in Massachusetts, but she can still imagine Renee grinning back at her. “I don’t have a lot for you to go on,” she warns. “His name is Mason Fisher, and his partner’s name is Corey.”

“Last name?”

“Don’t know.”

“Occupation?”

“Corey’s a history teacher, or at least he was seven years ago. Mace was in the military.”

“Anything else?”

“They have three kids, Sam, Kuan, and Izzy.”

“And they live in Australia?”

“Yes. Although I’m not sure where.”

Hera hums to herself. “You sure like to give a girl a challenge, I’ll tell you that. And my first Facebook search isn’t picking up anything.”

Isabel’s heart hiccups in her throat. “Nothing?”

“Not yet, but I started with all the parameters in place and I’m broadening the search as we go.”

“Try the other sites too,” Renee suggests. “Twitter, or Instagram, or whatever people are using these days.”

“I’m already running those too,” Hera says. Isabel knows that tone of voice. It’s the “I don’t want to tell you my systems are failing, but they are” voice. “I’m still not seeing anything. And I’m running Corey with an E-Y, Cory with just a Y, I’m putting K’s in there-”

“Have you tried LinkedIn?” a new voice says. “If they’re trying to fly under the radar, which they very well might be, they won’t be on Facebook, but most professionals are on there these days.”

“Oooh,” Renee says softly. “Good one, Dom.”

“Thank you. Hi, Isabel.”

“Hi, Dominik.”

“Are you still in Thailand?” Dominik asks, sounding completely unbothered by the fact that his wife’s best friend is searching for evidence of someone who might not exist. Isabel likes that about him. He takes everything in stride.

“Australia, actually.”

“Staying in the warm half of the world, I see.”

Isabel snorts. “Yeah, it’s great, it’s always sunny in Sydney.”

“Oh, god,” Renee mutters. “You know, it’s crazy to say this, but I’m still not used to the sun. Like, the actual sun, you know what I mean? Heat that isn’t from a vent, light that isn’t from a bulb…”

“Or a star outside the window,” Isabel adds. “And isn’t blue.”

“Isn’t blue!” Renee snaps her fingers. “I keep expecting everything to be blue!”

“And way colder.”

“God, way colder. And I keep forgetting about gravity.”

Isabel laughs, a little more wetly than she intends, but she can’t help it. “Earlier today I was lying on the beach, reading a book, and I went to put the book down-”

“Oh, no,” Renee laughs, like she’s already figured out the punchline to the joke. Or already lived it out a dozen times over.

“Except, of course, I just let go of it, and it fell-” Isabel smacks her knee with one hand. “Right into my solar plexus.”

Dom chuckles. “Hopefully it wasn’t too heavy.”

“Eh, just an airport paperback. Heaviest thing about it was the main character’s tragic backstory.” She sighs. “Worst part was that I cursed loudly on a public beach and almost woke up a sleeping baby, but-”

“Check your phone,” Hera says suddenly. “Is this him?”

Isabel pulls her phone away from her ear and looks at it. The message from Hera opens on its own, as messages from Hera are wont to do. It’s a professional headshot, much cleaner and more put-together than he’d been on the beach.

“Yeah,” Isabel says, a little winded. “That’s Corey.”

“Awesome,” Hera says, clearly relieved. “Corey Rapp, that’s C-O-R-E-Y, has a LinkedIn profile, thank you, Dominik. He’s still a history teacher at a secondary school north of Sydney. Government records show he adopted twins about four years ago and a daughter last year, like you said. No evidence of a spouse or partner, at least not on the record, but knowing what Goddard’s like, that doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t look like Corey has a Facebook or anything under his own name.”

“Neither do I,” Renee points out. “If anything that makes them smart. Means they’re watching out.”

“Good choice,” Dominik murmurs. Isabel agrees, would say as much if she could remember how to breathe.

Mace is here. He’s alive, more than six years after he died, and he’s also definitely an alien. She’s going to have to tell him. Maybe Corey, too, depending on how Mace takes it. She’s not the only one in the world, and somehow, that’s worse than if she were alone. At least if it were just her she wouldn’t have anything to feel guilty about.

“Lovelace,” Renee says quietly.

Isabel blinks. Her skin is hot. Right. Sunlight. Beach. She’s here. “Hey.”

“You okay?”

“I’m good.”

“Hera and Dom left,” Renee says cautiously. “You kinda went dark for a minute there. Anything you wanna talk about?”

“Not really.”

“How about things you don’t want to talk about?”

“Oh, there are way more of those, don’t worry.”

“I’d be more worried if there weren’t,” Renee admits. “So. You found your alien crewmate who survived the most unlikely series of events that any human has experienced.”

“You really think that’s more unlikely than what we went through?”

“Eh.” Isabel can picture the accompanying shrug, almost jokingly nonchalant. “It’s gotta be on the list, right? Anything involving aliens is… up there.”

“Oh, up there,” Isabel mutters, and Renee makes a soft noise that somehow sounds like a smile. “How’s Doug?”

“Definitely the most well-adjusted out of all of us.”

“Hera said he got a job?”

“He works the night shift at Olive Garden. Customers love him.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Renee says, and then goes quiet, and Isabel feels… bad, for a few seconds. She’d been with Renee and Doug for a while, but what they’d had, the casual trust and the years of determination to survive, was irreplaceable. Doug-and-Renee is never going to be the same as Eiffel-and-Minkowski.

“How about you?” Isabel asks, and then kind of wants to kick herself. That’s not necessarily a better talking point.

Renee hums. “Better than I’ve been. Dom and I decided I can’t go back to the military, what with being legally dead, so I’ve been trying to put together the case against Goddard.”

“By yourself?”

“With Hera, sometimes.”

“So by yourself.”

“Mostly,” Renee admits. “I was going to wait for you to come back, but…”

But this trip was supposed to take two weeks, tops, and Isabel hasn’t come back yet. But she has a second list of places to visit. But now she found somewhere else that she could stay for a while. But you can’t plan on someone who might not come back, don’t you know that by now, Captain?

“I’ll help once I’m back,” Isabel says, which she figures is the most honest thing she can say. When she’s ready she’s going to burn Goddard to the ground. Which reminds her: “Have you heard anything from Jacobi?”

“Not yet.”

“And you haven’t tracked him down?”

“Isabel,” Renee chides. “He’s an adult, he’s not my responsibility, and if his way of handling it is leaving, then I’m not here to judge him for it.”

“So that’s a no,” Isabel says, and grins when Renee groans. “He’ll turn up sooner or later.”

“Yeah, I know. And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Fisher’s alive,” Renee says, like Isabel could have possibly forgotten. “You’re not the only theta scenario. You’re in another new country by yourself. Take your pick. I have a couple reasons to be worried here.”

And Isabel thinks about it, actually thinks about it. It’d be easy to lie, sure, but Renee would know, and she figures if they’re in this whole space trauma business together she might as well be honest.

She pulls one of her feet out of the sand, sticking it into the water. “I'm coping,” she says slowly. “It’s early yet in the process. I think I might be going through the opposite of the five stages of grief.”

“Is that going through the stages in backwards order or experiencing the opposite of each stage?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“Thinking you were hallucinating could be a form of denial,” Renee says, far too thoughtful. “Or the opposite of acceptance? Is that how it works?”

“I don’t know, shrinks gave up on me, remember?” Isabel’s phone buzzes in her hand, and she glances at the screen. “Mace is calling me.”

“Then answer!”

“Okay,” Isabel says, and then, “Thank you.”

Renee doesn’t ask what she’s thanking her for. She’s smart like that. “Any time. Time zones don’t matter, just call.”

“I will,” Isabel says. It’s not quite a lie. “Talk to you soon, Renee.”

“Talk to you soon, Isabel.”

Isabel swipes over to answer. “Mace.”

“Isabel,” Mace says brightly. She almost doesn’t catch the note of surprise. “I realized I forgot to ask how long you’re in Sydney.”

“Until I leave.”

“No dates?”

“Well, you know, international travel gets a lot easier when a multibillion dollar company is footing the bill.”

“Huh,” Mace says. “Well, if you’re not busy tonight-”

“Isabel,” Renee says, sounding far too amused, and Isabel almost jumps out of her skin in surprise. “You didn’t hang up on me.”

Isabel frowns. “Apparently not. Did I make it a conference call?”

“You’re still not used to the new phone,” Renee says smugly, which is completely unfair. Phones have changed a lot in seven years, and Isabel is entitled to a few moments of staggering confusion. “That’s okay, you know.”

“Took me a while to get used to it too,” Mace says, in what’s probably supposed to be a sympathy move. “Touch screens and all.”

“You must be Mace Fisher,” Renee says, and Isabel’s breath catches. It’s so outrageously her, making a point of acknowledging that she can hear the person on the other end of the phone. “I’m Renee Minkowski. Former commander of the final mission to the USS Hephaestus Station, which is currently space dust.”

“Can’t say I’m sad to hear about that,” Mace admits. “And Captain, you owe me… so many explanations for all of that.”

“Many, many explanations,” Isabel agrees. “I can pay for drinks too.”

“I’ll leave you two to make plans now.” Renee pauses, and Isabel can feel the smugness from thousands of miles away. It’s strangely comforting. “Isabel, don’t worry, I can hang up on my own.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Isabel says as dryly as possible. “I’ll call you soon, Renee.”

“You’d better,” Renee says, and then there’s a soft beep.

Isabel exhales. “So. Drinks?”

“I probably shouldn’t leave my hotel, if Corey’s alone with the kids, but-”

“Hotel bar?”

“Hotel bar. I’ll send you the address.”

“Let me know when it’s a good time to come.”

“I will.” Mace pauses. “So, we can talk about this later, but…”

“But?”

“Renee, hm?”

Isabel groans. “Mace.”

“Are you guys close?”

“Come on.”

“No, I’m just saying, you sounded happy to talk to her.”

“That’s because I was.”

“Good,” Mace says, sounding pleased. “I have to run now, I just wanted to call and check.”

“Yeah,” she says softly. “I’ll see you tonight, Mace.”

“I’ll see you tonight,” he echoes, and then there’s that soft beep again, and Isabel’s alone on the beach.

One of her feet is still buried in the sand. Carefully, she wiggles her toes. The mud squishes between them. It almost tickles, and she can feel some of the sand dissolving in the water. The shallows are still lapping around her, against her hips, her thighs, one hand that she plants in the sand while she cradles her phone in the other.

There was a point where she thought she’d never make it back to a beach. She hadn’t been to many beaches before space, and definitely not many with actual oceans. The Air Force isn’t exactly interested in destination resorts, after all. But here she is. Sitting on a beach in Sydney.

Isabel swirls her hand through the water, letting the sand cloud around her. She never thought she would feel sand again. Or sun. Or the sheer gratitude of knowing that someone else made it out alive. She has another list, one that’s been getting longer: things she’s getting to experience again. Maybe for the first time, depending how you look at it.

Sydney is bright in the summer. There are people waiting for her in Boston, and a list of cities she has to visit. There’s a stack of books on the beach, next to her backpack, underneath an umbrella. She should go back to those and make some kind of progress, or at the very least make sure nobody takes her book before she can finish it.

She stays in the ocean, just a little longer. It’s not every day that she gets the chance.

[mara-lune]

Ch. 1 Welcome to Lake City

Smith walked through the crowded, noisy streets of Lake City, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her oversized gray hoodie. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a messy bun, out of her face, as it always was. Despite the smoggy, gray weather, she wore her sunglasses and a pair of large headphones. This, plus her big, black backpack was typically her outfit of choice. She didn’t like making eye contact, or even worse, having people talk to her. Most people, anyway.

It was the end of the work day, and people buzzed past her, in their own worlds that barely extended beyond their own faces. Most were eager to get home from work, others were eager to get to their vices. A wretched few of them were looking for someone to chat up, usually with a sales pitch. The downtown plaza Smith waded through was what she considered “old-modern”. Stores, businesses, and restaurants lined the street level floors of the old buildings the city was founded on. There was always something under construction, but not always in a progressive way. The trend for the past twenty years or so was to make anything new as bright and sleek as possible, giving the urban city the ‘modern’ part of the ‘old-modern’ style, even though that modern feel was already a couple of decades old.

Lake City was also noisy. And not just the noise of traffic, construction, and people. Everywhere you looked was filled with lights, advertisements, and sometimes the bizarre art installation. The city had pumped some money into trying to make the walking streets more cultured and friendly, without really doing much else to help the area. This meant that you would often see panhandlers getting ignored underneath a giant neon light installation instructing passersby to love one another.

Smith slowed down and took a long gaze up at a two story billboard screen as it switched to an ad for SugarBaby Jean Co. The model in the ad smiled brightly behind a pair of tinted glasses, and a cheesy slogan declared this “The Summer for Sugar, Baby”, even though it was already fall. After a few seconds, the ad switched to an animated image of a fantasy city in a torrential storm, promoting the latest blockbuster movie, and Smith picked up her pace again. She turned the corner and finally made her way to the only place in town she actually liked, a tea shop called Lake and Leaf. Inside was white, bright, and quaint, but still warm and friendly. She took off her backpack as she made her way to her regular spot - the last stool at the end of the long counter. She pulled her tablet out of her backpack, and hung her bag on the hook under the counter at her knees. She took off her sunglasses, but kept her eyes straight on her screen in front of her.

“Hey, Smith. Reading more police reports?” asked a friendly voice from behind the counter. It was Rolly, one of the shop owners, and a friend of hers from when they were kids. He was built like a grizzly with the temperament of a golden retriever, and the tea shop was his passion. “The usual?” he asked, knowing that she wouldn’t look up until she was satisfied with her scrolling. Smith nodded, almost imperceivably. He shuffled off to his tea tins that lined the wall and began making her the usual cup.

Smith scanned the headlines: robberies, shootings, muggings - the usual, daily crime in their metropolitan city. She switched her app to a map of the city and pinned the places of the crimes. She added notes from the reports - time of day, victims, weapons - anything she could. Then she started reading the local news sites. Some of the news reported on the crimes and offered vague details, of which she also noted. Nothing was too insignificant.

Smith finally set down her tablet and looked up. She glanced around the shop. It was slightly busy. Most people liked going to bars around this time, but Lake and Leaf had its usual crowd. She reached into her backpack and pulled out her wallet. She pulled out a five dollar bill, and then stashed her wallet away as she saw Rolly head toward her with a cup of tea.

“Earl gray with milk, and a scone. I thought I’d try something a little different for you this time. The tea has lavender in it.”

Smith pulled off her headphones and discreetly set the money under the saucer as she picked up the cup and took a sip. “Oh damn, that’s good.”

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Nah, just this. What’s new around here?”

Rolly leaned on the counter. “You’ll never guess who came in here the other day.”

“Who?”

“That model you like, Ellis Jones.”

Smith nearly spit her tea. “No fucking way! Did you talk to her? What’s she like?”

Rolly chuckled. “I didn’t see her, Nate did. He said she asked for coffee - I guess she didn’t realize we don’t serve that here.”

“So what did she do? Did she get something else?”

“I don’t know! I wasn’t here!”

“Well, why didn’t you ask Nate? Is he here? Let me talk to him.”

“No, it’s his day off.”

Smith sat back in her stool, daydreaming. “Man, she’d be perfect…”

Rolly tilted his head at Smith. “Perfect for what?”

Smith sighed. “Well… I don’t know. I haven’t really told anyone yet.”

“What?”

“Nevermind, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Smith Kelley, we’ve been best friends since we were kids! We went to the prom together! We practiced kissing on each other. Tell me, girl!” Smith reached over the counter and slapped Rolly several times on the shoulder.

“Fine! You know how I like to read police reports and stuff?”

“Nooooo.”

“Shut up. Well, I was thinking. The cops around here… could maybe use my help.”

Rolly chuckled. “Okay.”

“I just keep thinking… I could do a better job.”

Rolly scoffed. “You? You’re a shrimpy little weakling who hates running.”

“Well not me-me, but I still think I could do something about it.”

“You mean you want to be a cop? I don’t know how you’re going to do that, being… well, all those things I just said.”

“I know this city inside and out. There are patterns and certain people who keep doing things and getting away with it.” She showed Rolly her tablet with the map. “See, there was a robbery six blocks from here a month ago.”

“But you’re a shrimpy…”

She swiped to another view of the map. “And then two nights later, another one a block away from that.”

“Little weakling…”

“And it’s more than just robberies. I mean, they were both robberies, but they were in and out of there so fast.”

“Who hates running…”

Smith put down her tablet and gave Rolly a look.

“I’m sorry, babe! I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be chasing bad guys. The police are decent. I mean, sure, they’re not perfect, but they’re good enough.”

“They’re not good enough when there’s still so much crime in this city!”

“But really, what were you thinking of doing? And what does Ellis Jones have to do with it?”

Smith paused for a second. “Okay, can I let you in on a little secret?”

Rolly sighed. “I don’t know. Your ideas are kind of out there. A lot of people think you’re just a conspiracy theorist.”

Smith lowered her voice and leaned in. She picked up her tablet and changed some settings on the map that showed an overlay of sewers, passages, and tunnels. “Whenever I freelance for the city government, I get a lot of access that I probably shouldn’t have. I know the city’s infrastructure - it hasn’t changed in the past ten years, and any time anyone tries to change it, it takes months, if not years of government bureaucracy to actually take effect. I know how to move around quickly, without getting caught.”

“Have you ever actually seen these tunnels and passages yourself?” Rolly asked.

“No, but I’ve seen big proposals get shot down because it’d be too expensive to build around them. And they don’t want to remove them or fill them in, because that would require a lot of inspections and restructuring. Redoing the underground infrastructure under one city block would affect, like, the next dozen around it.” She pointed to a city block on the map. “Remember when the old Elysian Hotel wanted to update and basically rebuild the whole building? Lake City put it on the ballot to make it look like they were trying their best to make it happen, but even when it passed, they decided to slap a historic landmark status on it so they wouldn’t have to bother with it.”

Rolly furrowed his eyebrows with a small realization. “Is that why they did that? It is a pretty neat, old building.”

“But have you also noticed that the tallest buildings in this city are only thirty stories?”

“Yeah, they passed laws to not build any higher than that so as to not obstruct the view.”

“The view of what?”

Rolly shrugged. “You know, the city. It’s kind of nice to look at.”

“But why not improve the city with taller, more impressive buildings?” Smith stared up at Rolly with a bit of a crazy glint in her eyes.

The two froze in an awkward standoff until Rolly finally broke the silence. “Babe, what is your point?”

“My point is that I could track the criminals. They show patterns. I’m sure some of them are even using some of these passages. Just imagine beating them at their own game. Following them, or even getting ahead of them. As, like… a superhero would.”

“A superhero!” Rolly shrieked.

“Keep your voice down, butthead!”

“A superhero!” he quietly shrieked. “Smith, you’re smart, but you’re also the clumsiest person I know. There’s no way you’d ever be able to do that, much less as a superhero.”

Smith looked up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Not me, but someone like Ellis Jones could. Do you see the workout routine videos she posts on her Lookit? She can move.”

“Mm-hmm, you sure do like that.”

“Shut up.” She picked up her cup and finished off the tea. The little bell above the door jungled, and they both looked over to see a couple walk in and sit down around the corner at the other end of the counter.

Rolly stood up straight. “Mkay, girl. Well, you find Ellis Jones and train her to be a superhero. Let me know how that goes.” He moved the saucer on the counter, and slid the money she placed there back to her. “You’ll need this to get your superhero project started.” He turned to the couple and made his way down the counter.

Smith placed the money back onto the saucer and set her empty cup on top. She nibbled at the scone as she opened up her tablet and buried her face in the screen again. The tea shop buzzed with light conversations, clinking dishes, and tea tins being opened and closed. Smith put her headphones back on and drowned out the world around her. She didn’t hear the shop bell jingle again, and the excitement that filled the air when Ellis Jones walked in.

The statuesque model was as exquisite as they come. She had smooth, caramel skin, and her short, fiery orange hair was perfectly coiffed. Ellis’ long, graceful figure practically floated into the shop as her delicate dress fluttered around her. A couple of teenage girls in the shop approached her and asked for a selfie, to which Ellis happily agreed. After a couple of shots with a couple of phones, the girls thanked her and excitedly went back to their table, eagerly sharing their pictures on their Lookit accounts. Ellis went to the counter and sat at the corner, directly down from a still oblivious Smith.

Rolly put on his usual, friendly customer service smile, despite the fact that in his head, he was screaming his face off. “Hi there! Welcome to Lake and Leaf. I’m Rolly. What can I get you, love?”

Ellis scanned the shelves of tea tins that lined the long, side wall. “Um, I’m not much of a tea drinker.” Down the counter, Smith absent-mindedly picked up the empty tea cup that was still in front of her. She paused when she realized there was only a small drop left, but still tipped it up as far as she could to get the last bit. Ellis pointed at her. “I’ll have that. Whatever it is, it must be good.”

Rolly winked at her. “You got it!” He turned from the model, and squealed quietly as he bounced his way back over to Smith. “Um, excuse me, dear, what was it you ordered again?” he said in a loud, obvious voice.

Smith looked up at Rolly and gave him an incredulous look. “What?”

Rolly glanced down at Ellis. “Can you tell me which tea you had?”

Smith pulled her headphones off. “What?”

Rolly sighed heavily. “Which tea was that?”

Smith glared angrily at him. “You made it!”

“But maybe you can remind me what you had. That young lady down there would like to know what tea you had.”

Smith turned her glare down the counter. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw one of the most famous faces in the country smiling at her.

“Um. The usual?”

“Oh my god, ” he muttered, rubbing his hand into his forehead. He picked up the cup and saucer. “Oh yeah, this was an earl grey with milk and lavender.” He winked at Ellis again. Ellis smiled back at them. Rolly stuffed the cash back into Smith’s hand while she was distracted. He took the empty dishes and walked to the back kitchen, still smiling. “I’ll get that for you right away!”

“Sounds great!” Ellis grinned at Smith. “He’s really sweet.”

Smith tried her best to regain her composure. “Yeah. He’s an old friend of mine.” She realized she was holding the money and put it in her pocket. “He doesn’t let me pay for anything here.”

“I actually came in here a few days ago and I tried to order coffee. The guy who was here at the time was not as sweet.”

“Yeah, that’s Nate. He’s pretty much the opposite of Rolly,” she chuckled, awkwardly. “So do you, um, come here often?” Smith winced as soon as the words came out of her mouth.

“No, this is just my second time. I kind of felt bad after that first encounter, so I thought I’d try something different this time.”

“Yeah! You should!”

Ellis laughed. “Yeah, I will.”

Smith cautiously got up out of her seat. “Do you, um, mind if I sit closer to you? Join you? Do you mind if I join you?”

Ellis gestured at the empty stool next to her. “Please.”

Smith started to move closer, but then quickly turned back and gathered her things. Her arms full, she sat down on the edge of the stool next to Ellis. “Hi. I’m Smith.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Smith.”

“No, it’s just Smith. Well, Smith Kelley.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Nice to meet you, Kelley.”

“No, Smith is my first name.”

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay, it happens to me all the time.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Smith. I’m Ellis.” Ellis extended her hand and Smith shook it just a little too enthusiastically, dropping her headphones on the floor.

“Yeah, I know! You’re really cool. I mean…”

Ellis laughed. “Um, thank you.”

“Sorry,” Smith groaned. She put her tablet and sunglasses on the counter and reached down for her headphones. Her stool tipped out from behind her, and clattered loudly on the floor. “Shit, sorry. I mean, shoot. I didn’t mean to say that. Sorry.”

“You apologize a lot.”

“Sorry.” Smith scrambled under the counter in search of a hook to hang her backpack on, and took a moment to silently berate herself for her awkwardness.

Ellis leaned over and looked at Smith’s tablet on the counter. It was open to the police reports. “Are you a cop?”

Smith stood up quickly, holding her headphones and the stool that had fallen, with a bit of a deer-in-the-headlights look. “No.” Ellis looked at Smith’s reddening face. “I just like to read police reports. That’s kind of weird, sorry. A lot of people think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“Really?” Smith was still awkwardly standing with her hands full, and her messy bun had become even messier.

Ellis reached for the tablet. “May I?” Smith nodded. Ellis started to scroll through the police reports, her brow furrowing. “This isn’t even half of what happens in this city.”

Smith finally put down the chair and sat down next to Ellis. “I know! The police--” she lowered her voice. “The police are basically useless.” She set her headphones on the counter and reached over and swiped the tablet to the map. “I’ve been tracking the crime in this neighborhood alone, and it’s pathetic how little actual policing goes on.”

“You’re telling me. My cousin was killed a few years ago, and the police couldn’t figure it out, so they gave up the case.”

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry.”

"They said it was a random, unprovoked attack, and he was an unfortunate casualty. They won't reopen the case, and the worst part is, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Smith hesitated as she read Ellis’ devastated face, scanning the reports.

“Um, listen,” Smith finally said, taking the tablet from Ellis. “I’m sorry that I even brought it up. You just wanted to have a nice, relaxing cup of tea, and I had to ruin your afternoon with all this talk about crime.”

“It’s okay,” Ellis said, with genuine gentleness.

“No, it’s not. I’m just Captain Bring-Down over here. I’ll let you get back to your tea,” she said, looking around for Rolly. “Which still isn’t here. Why did he even go to the back to make it? All the teas are out here.”

Just at that moment, Rolly came around from the back with a hot cup of tea with a sprig of lavender placed across the top. “Here you are! So sorry about the wait!”

Ellis smiled at Rolly. “Wow, thank you so much! It’s beautiful!”

“How come I didn’t get a flower?”

“Because I didn't want to have to go all the way upstairs to get you one,” Rolly playfully snipped back at her.

Ellis chuckled and removed the sprig from the cup and handed it to Smith. “Here you go.” Smith took the lavender and blushed. Ellis took a sip of the tea. “Hm, not bad!”

“See, who needs coffee?" Rolly beamed.

“Better than what I had last time. My assistant wanted to try this place, but I didn’t know what to get, so I just ordered the ‘Special-Tea’ that was on the menu.”

“The one that was basically all anise? Oh girl,” Rolly sucked through his teeth. “I tried that one. It was not good. My partner likes to come up with new brew combinations. Usually they're good, but that one was not. Can I get you anything else, Miss Jones?”

“No thank you, I’m fine.”

He turned to Smith. “How about you?”

Smith flushed. “No, you’ve gotten me plenty.” She looked down at the lavender in her hand. “Plenty…”

Rolly smirked. “Hm, I bet I can think of one more thing I can get you.” He turned to Ellis. “Miss Jones, my stupid friend here really likes you. Been a huge fan of yours for a long time.” Ellis chuckled and Smith turned even redder. “Of course, you are more than welcome to say ‘hell no, fuck off, creep,’ but what do you think about maybe meeting back here with Smith another time for more than just tea?”

Ellis raised her eyebrows behind her cup. “More than just tea? What else do you have back there?”

“Pastries and gayness.”

Ellis finished her tea. “Well, I’m not that big into pastries, but I like the rest of that idea.” She smiled at Smith, who had somehow gone from bright red to completely white. She turned back to Rolly and reached for her handbag. “How much do I owe you?”

“No no, let me!” Smith managed to stammer out.

“But you said you aren’t allowed to pay for anything here.”

“She’s not.” Rolly turned to Ellis. “Four eighty five, please, dear.”

Ellis reached into her handbag and pulled out her credit card. Rolly presented a card reader for her, and she settled her transaction. She turned to Smith. “I guess I’ll see you here…?”

“Tomorrow! If that’s okay with you. After work? I get off at five.” She set the lavender down on the counter and quickly gathered up her belongings and stuffed them into her backpack.

“Perfect! It was nice meeting you both.” Ellis got up from the counter and left the shop.

Rolly picked up the empty teacup from the counter. “You’re welcome,” he tossed at her over his shoulder as he headed to the back.

Smith reached deep into her backpack, pulled out a fifty dollar bill, and threw it at Rolly. She started to head out the door, but then turned back and grabbed the lavender sprig off the counter.

Smith sat on her unmade bed in her small studio apartment. She pecked away at a work project on her laptop. Normally, she would let herself get so engrossed in a project that she wouldn’t even notice the sun go down… or come up. This time, though, she eagerly watched the clock, waiting for 5:00.

The sun was starting to get low, but it was hard to tell with the usual smog that hung in the air of Lake City. The afternoon sunlight that did manage to penetrate through fell onto her bed next to her, where her tabby and white cat, Mat, lay snoozing. The sun crept along her bed until it reflected off of her laptop and into her eyes. She adjusted slightly on the bed, but couldn’t keep her attention on the computer anyway. She had spent the day working from home, as it was slightly closer to the tea shop than her current office, and she didn’t want to waste any time getting there. Of course, that also meant that all she could think about all day was five o’clock.

At 4:46, Smith got up from the bed and walked over to the mirror over her small dresser. The sprig of lavender she received the day before was taped to the mirror so it could dry out. She inspected her reflection and took the ponytail holder out of her hair. She fluffed and smoothed her hair out with her hands, and put it back up in her usual bun. She really wanted to look nice, but nothing but her typical style made her feel comfortable. The least she could do was make sure her messy bun wasn’t quite as messy. She checked her teeth, put on some deodorant, and smoothed her hair again before looking back at her computer. It was 4:47.

She flopped back down onto the bed, disturbing Matt, who let out a little ‘prrrp’.

“Sorry, Mat.” Smith leaned over and gave him a scritch and a kiss on the head. He yawned and stretched a paw out in return. She turned back to her computer and typed a few more things, unaware that she was shaking her foot like it had a flea in it. Mat stood and stretched, very much bothered by the vibrations Smith was causing, and jumped off the bed. After two more minutes dragged on, she finally shut her laptop with a deep sigh.

“You want your dinner early?” she asked Matt. “I might be out late after all.” She chuckled to herself, imagining the best case scenario of how the evening would go. Mat perked up and started rubbing along Smith’s legs at the sight of the cat food can.

Smith set Mat’s dish on the floor at his placemat and topped off his water bowl. She grabbed her gray hoodie from off the bed and put it on, and then picked up her tablet and headphones off her small kitchen table. The table had one chair at it, and was covered with junk mail, dishes, note pads, and other random odds and ends, which meant she didn’t have room for actual work there. The other chair was pulled close to her bed, where it had been serving as a makeshift table for a couple of old water glasses.

Should I take my backpack with me? She wondered to herself, as she packed up her essentials. Probably not. She reached into the backpack and pulled out her wallet, and tucked it into her hoodie pocket. She dug through her backpack again for her keys and chapstick and phone… and then put her wallet back into her backpack and slung the whole thing over her back. She slipped on her sneakers and headed out the door.

Smith hurried the five blocks from her apartment to Lake and Leaf as quickly as her little legs could take her - without running, of course. She hated that. As she stopped at a busy corner a block from her destination, she paused and admired a motorcycle parked in a lot. She had always wanted to be able to ride a motorcycle, if only she were a little taller to reach the ground. The 1200 cc sportbike was sleek, white, flashy and, in Smith’s mind, very sexy.

The traffic light changed, and Smith made her way into Lake and Leaf. As her usual habit, she started to remove her backpack once she got inside. She scanned the people seated at the counter, and started to head to her usual spot at the back of the shop, until another familiar voice caught her ear.

“No, green tea and black tea come from the same plant. They’re not different varieties. I mean, well, they are, they’re different types of tea, but it’s not like there’s a green tea plant and a black tea plant.” Nate was being his typical, know it all self. It wouldn’t be long until he would start being condescending to the poor person he was holding captive with his conversation.

“So which one is better?” Ellis asked, looking over a menu card.

Nate sighed. “Neither one is better. That’s like asking what kind of dog is better, although we all know that chihuahuas are the worst.”

“Okay, what do you recommend?”

Nate sighed again - his favorite thing to do. “I don’t know, what do you like?”

Ellis shrugged and gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I’m new to tea. But I’d like to learn.”

Smith walked up to the small table in the corner where Ellis was seated. “Black tea tends to be stronger, and sometimes bitter. It’s a pretty standard tea, like English Breakfast, or the iced tea you get at restaurants. Green tea can be kind of nutty and smooth.”

Nate’s eyes went wide as he turned to Smith. “Oh. My. God. You think you can just walk right up to Ellis Jones and Smith-splain my job to her?”

“Well, you were kind of being rude to her, and Ellis is really nice.” She sat down at the table across from Ellis and placed her backpack on the floor under her chair.

“Wooowww,” Nate taunted. “You’re just making yourself right at home. Bold.”

Smith tried her best to ignore Nate. “I’d recommend the green tea, if you want something lighter. Or if you liked the one you had yesterday, that was an Earl Gray with milk and lavender.”

Nate’s eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling.

“What are you going to have?” Ellis asked Smith.

“I think I’m just going to get an iced tea.”

“You want your scone?” Nate asked, anticipating Smith’s usual order.

“No, just the tea this time.”

Ellis turned to Nate. “I’ll have the same.” She held the menu card up to Nate, who plucked it from her hand and slowly spun around on his toes.

“Baaaasic.”

Smith gave Nate a glare as he left their table. Ellis gave Smith a wincing smile. “He’s… a lot.”

Smith waved her hand in apology. “Yeah, this place is always a little less busy when he’s here.”

“I definitely prefer Rolly.”

“Everyone prefers Rolly.” They both laughed. “Sorry I’m late, though. I tried to get here early.”

“Don’t apologize. I got out of a photoshoot early and there wasn’t much traffic at the time.”

“Oh, you were working. No wonder you look so nice.”

Ellis looked down at herself. She was wearing a black leather jacket and a loose, champagne pink top with two long, delicate, rose gold chains. “No, these aren't my work clothes. I changed before I came over.”

Oh, Smith thought to herself. Even when she’s in everyday wear, she still looks like a model.

“But thank you,” Ellis said. “You look nice, too.”

Smith scoffed. “Hardly. This is all I really feel comfortable in.”

“I think that’s what’s nice about it. You’re comfortable and effortless.”

Smith laughed nervously and clutched her hands together on the table in front of her. Her thumbs twitched together involuntarily, as she was so used to having something in her hands, which was usually her phone or tablet. “So what was the photoshoot for?”

Ellis pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Do you want to see? They let me take a couple photos with me after the shoot for my portfolio.” She swiped her phone on and handed it to Smith.

Smith’s eyes went wide. “Oh, yeah, that’s definitely not your work clothes.” In the photo, Ellis was crouched down and turned sideways, and wearing nothing but a pair of stiletto heels and some elaborate jewelry and makeup. “So it’s a shoe ad?”

“Perfume.”

“But… where’s the bottle? Are you even wearing the perfume?”

“That’s the industry.” She reached over and swiped to the next photo, a closer shot from the same session of her from the hips up. A pop of greens and yellows swept across her eyelids like comets across the sky, and her soft pink lips reflected a coppery shimmer. She was holding her right hand up, delicately framing her face, and her other arm crossed over her breasts. The heavy jewelry she wore dripped with emeralds and diamonds. Smith resisted the urge to keep swiping through her album, but instead stared intently at Ellis’ photo.

“Wow, those are great. You look ama-- you look great. Really cool.”

Nate came back up to the table behind Smith with their drinks on a tray. “Hm. I wouldn’t have gone with green. Clashes against your hair.”

Smith jumped and turned the phone over - a natural reflex whenever someone approached her while she was on her phone.

“You know, I had the same note for the stylist, but we had to go with what Josephina Bell wanted for her new fragrance label.” Ellis was starting to get the hang of handling Nate’s attitude.

Nate sat an iced tea down in front of Ellis. “Then maybe tone down the hair. Make it more golden than orangey.” He waved his finger around her hair. Ellis rolled her eyes up toward his hand.

“God damn it, Nate, keep your opinions to yourself,” Smith seethed.

Nate set the other tea down in front of Smith. “Anything else, honey?”

Smith was about to snap at Nate again, but Ellis interjected. “We’re fine, thank you.”

Nate gave them a sassy little wave. “Love you,” he beamed, before heading off again.

Smith took a long sip of tea as she thought of some sort of small talk to make. After what seemed like forever (but was really more like a few seconds), she finally spoke up. “Sorry, I don’t really go out that much. I don’t know what to talk about.”

Ellis laughed. “Well, you’re honest. But that’s okay. Tell me about what you do.”

“Oh, I do freelance stuff, programming, cybersecurity, data encryption, things like that. I get hired by the city a lot. It’s pretty boring stuff.”

“That doesn’t sound boring at all. That sounds impressive. You must be really smart.”

Smith shrugged. “I guess so.” She never knew how to take compliments, or even how to recognize them sometimes.

“But I’m guessing that’s not what you’re passionate about, right?” Smith thought for a moment. She wanted to tell her about her actual passion; she wanted to just blurt out that she wants to recruit a superhero, and she thinks it should be Ellis. But the idea sounded ridiculous. She couldn’t form the right words in her head to make it sound like it was, first of all, a feasible idea, and second, something that Ellis would even be on board with. They were virtual strangers at this point, and all they had in common so far was tea.

That, and their view on the police in Lake City.

“No, it’s not,” Smith said. “I like reading police reports.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Right.” Smith reached for the phone in the middle of the table, but stopped when she realized it wasn’t hers. “Oh, uh. Hang on.” She reached under her chair and grabbed her backpack. Setting the bag on her lap, she dug out her tablet and put it on the table. She opened up the police reports and scanned the day’s entries. “Here, look. A new robbery last night.” She switched to the map of the city and pinned the place of the robbery, a mom and pop restaurant. “Three nights in a row, and three robberies. They’re all along the same line, but not on the same street. They all happened around 3 am, and they were all in and out in about five minutes,” she explained, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. “And the places have nothing in common: a small restaurant, a big box chain store, and a corporate office.” She looked up at Ellis with a glint in her eyes. “Somebody is moving quickly around the city, undetected.”

Ellis drew a line with her finger along the three points. “So that means that the next place they’d hit would probably be… this hotel?”

“I don’t know. These robberies all happened late at night when the places were all closed. But hotels are usually staffed around the clock. I’d say, maybe the restaurant connected to it.”

“What could they rob from a restaurant in the middle of the night?” Ellis asked. “Most businesses deposit their cash at the end of the day.”

“They were able to take a little bit of money from the small restaurant last night, but they made off with goods from the store, and some small electronics from the corporate office. They basically just take whatever they can get their hands on in a short amount of time. And whatever they can easily carry.”

“Why, though? What would they have to gain from such small crimes?”

Smith smiled. She couldn’t believe that someone was not only listening to her crazy interests, but actually seemed to be invested as well. “I don’t know. But they’re so frequent and they follow a pattern. It has to be the same people each time, and they’re probably counting on it to pay off in the long run.”

“I can’t believe the police haven’t noticed the similarities.”

Nate came back to their table. “Oh lordy, is she going on about her crime conspiracy theories? You don’t have to get sucked into her craziness, darling.”

Ellis smiled at him. “I know, she’s completely bonkers, right?” Smith closed her apps and set down her tablet, a little dejected that she couldn’t share her excitement with her crush anymore.

“Mm-hmm. You ladies good?” he asked, placing a check down next to Smith.

“Yes, thank you.” Ellis started to reach for the check, but Smith quickly grabbed it.

“I got it.” She reached into her backpack and pulled out twelve dollars from her wallet.

“Let me guess, Rolly doesn’t let you pay, but Nate does?”

“Yes, Nate sure does,” he said, snatching the cash from Smith’s hand. He picked up their empty glasses and headed to the back.

“Well, uh, I guess we should go,” Smith hesitated, disappointed that the date was over. “Sure. I have an early morning session with my personal trainer tomorrow.”

Smith nodded, attempting to look nonchalant. “Cool. That’s cool.” She stowed her tablet into her backpack again and stood to put it on. She paused when she saw Ellis reach under her own chair and pull out a black motorcycle helmet.

“Shall we head out?” Ellis said as she stood from the table.

“Y--yeah,” Smith squeaked, still trying to retain her nonchalance.

The two left the tea shop in the same direction.

“You know that I don’t actually think you’re bonkers, right?”

Smith gazed down at her feet as they walked along, side by side. “It’s nice to hear you say that.” They walked together a little further in silence.

“This is me,” Ellis said, and they stopped at the lot next to the red sportbike Smith had admired earlier. The sun had sunk low, and the streetlamps had turned on against the dusky sky. The light right above Ellis’ bike highlighted the glittery paint job, making it sparkle like fresh snow.. She set her helmet on the seat and zipped up her jacket, transforming her cool elegance into what almost looked like a mysterious… superhero.

“I had a nice time. Thanks for indulging me, Ellis.” Smith had a hard time looking Ellis in the eye, so she just admired her motorcycle.

“I did too,” Ellis smiled back at her.

“Well… drive safe.” It was the only thing Smith could think to say.

Ellis mounted the motorcycle and put on her helmet. “Thanks, I will. Good night.” She closed the visor and started the engine. Smith gave a small wave as she stood and watched Ellis pull out of the lot and speed off down the street.

“Oh damn!” she exclaimed aloud. I didn’t think to get her number. She pulled out her phone and opened up her Lookit app. She typed in Ellis’ name in the search and started scrolling through her photos and videos. Probably for the best. Would she even want me bothering her?

Smith slowly started to shuffle back to her apartment, still scrolling through Ellis’ pictures. Her thumb hovered over the ‘add friend’ button, as she nervously contemplated the idea of reaching out to the famous model that she happened to have a short date with.

Suddenly, two men jumped out from between a couple of parked cars. One of them punched her in the back of the head, knocking her to her hands and knees. Her phone flew out of her hand and disappeared somewhere in the dark street. “Just leave it!” one of the men said. They started kicking her in the ribs. Smith fought for some air to enter her lungs so she could scream out, but all she could manage were some hoarse gasps. One of the men started to pull her backpack off of her. Instinctively, she wrapped the strap around her hand and grabbed onto it for dear life. The only thing she could think to do was scream “No!” Smith curled into a tight ball on her left side around her backpack, as the one man kept trying to pry it away from her and the other one had gotten onto the ground and was punching her anywhere he could.

Smith opened her eyes as she heard a loud engine revving, and caught a glimpse of a white rocket hurtling toward them. The men also saw it, and took off. The rocket screamed past Smith and barreled toward the men. The rider leaned hard, making sparks fly along the pavement as the sparkling sportbike fell and slid toward Smith’s attackers. The rider had managed to let go of the bike before it hit the ground, and tucked into a tight roll. The motorcycle hit one of the men hard in the leg, and he let out a yell as he fell to the ground, pinned under the bike. The other man kept running. The rider got up and sprinted toward the man trapped under the motorcycle. He struggled to get out from under it, but the rider put her foot down on the wheel, holding him in place.

Ellis glared down at him through her helmet. To him, the dark, mysterious figure looked like a spectre in the night. The man trembled. “Pl--please! Don’t hurt me! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!!”

Ellis pressed down on the wheel again, and the man screamed out in pain. “You’re pathetic.” She let the bike go. He whimpered as he struggled to wriggle out from under the wheel. “Get the fuck out of here.” The man managed to get himself free and limped off as fast as he could. Ellis watched as he slowly vanished into the darkness.

After he was gone, Ellis turned and ran toward Smith. Smith groaned in pain as she struggled to sit herself upright.

“Don’t move.” Ellis knelt down beside her and took off her helmet. She helped Smith lie back down on her back, and looked her over. Smith had a large bruise on her right cheekbone, a bloody lip, and scrapes all over. Her clothes were dirty and torn from being kicked and knocked onto the ground. “Where does it hurt?”

Smith groaned again as she tried to gesture to her ribs, but her right arm was just as bad.

Ellis unzipped her jacket pocket and pulled out her phone. “I’ll call for an ambulance.”

As she was about to dial the phone, Smith reached up with her left hand and pulled Ellis down and kissed her, grateful to her savior. And she felt Ellis kiss her back. At that moment, Smith thought that maybe her plan wasn’t so crazy after all.

[static-ink-blog]

Batmom Origin Part 3: The Word

A/N: This is the last installment in this series and was requested by anon. I have no idea how it had gotten this long, I did rewrite it a few times, but I had fun writing it. Hope you like it.

Tagging: @doctorwhoandrory and @tgwltw

Part 1 Part 2

    Light tickled your nose. Rolling around you faced the warm next to you in bed. You cuddled into it as you tried going back to sleep, but you were already too awake to do so. Making a face you blinked your eyes open. Your eyes focused and you looked up from the bare chest right in front of you to the man's face. Bruce's eyes were closed, his face was relaxed. His arms were around you, holding you close while still leaving you a tiny bit of space to move.     You smiled as you watched his face. Studying his face you soaked in the moment, feeling like you could stay here in this bed with him forever. A sigh escaped you and you closed your eyes in content. When you opened them again he was grinning, his eyes closed all the while. "How long have you been up?" you asked as you laid your head on the pillow next to his.     His grin twitched and Bruce opened one eye. "Did I wake you?" he asked. You shook your head and he hummed in return. He pulled you close, tugging your head under his chin. One of his hands reached up to move through your hair. Shaking your head at his antics you raised your head and kissed him. Bruce was all to eager to return it, deepening it as he rolled over to hover over you.     Your hands came up to cup his face, but he caught you right hand before it could do so. Stopping he separated from your lips to look at it with something akin to wonder and love. At your finger was a silver ring with a diamond engraved in it. He kissed it, looking in your eyes. "I still can't believe you said yes." he admitted.     "I can't believe you were worried I would ever leave you." you said, a huge smile on your face. Nearly a week had passed, but it was still a bit surreal. Bruce had asked you in the garden. You didn't believe there had been a moment in your life where you had been happier. The feeling had lingered ever since and you couldn't believe your luck. Your smile was returned by your fiance.     Only slowly you two got up, mainly because Bruce kept on pulling you back into bed and ask for five more minutes. Neither of you really wanted to get up, but you had to. It was nearly noon when you finally got dressed. Sure enough you met Alfred in the hallway, having been on his way to retire you. "Good afternoon." he greeted you with a knowing smile. "Glad to see you back under the living." He reminded you of the charity gala later tonight and left you give you some alone time.     Shaking your heads, Bruce and you headed down in the kitchen. You were no longer surprised to find breakfast plates waiting like you had been at the beginning of your relationship with Bruce. Later you went to the library. Sitting together you in the large armchair you read a while till Dick came home. The boy, now thirteen years old, had grinned when you asked how his day had been, soaking up your attention as he gave you a detailed answer about the happenings at Gotham Academy. Alfred watched the three of you with a smile, feeling his heart melt on the sight of how happy this family had become.     Yet before long it was time, and Alfred send you up to change for the gala. You didn't look forward to interacting with the 'high society' and you weren't the only one to do so. Bruce didn't say a word but rolled his eyes a bit, which he got a stern glance from Alfred from. Dick tried a bit harder. "So, I don't really have to show up there, right?" he turned to you with an innocent look on his face. "We can just say I'm sick. Then I could stay here. Please? Batmom, please?"     Laughing a little you shook your head. "Except that we already did that last time." you reminded him. He made face and laid an arm around him. "Besides what am I supposed to do without you there?" you added conspiratorial. "You know I would be completely lost."      Dick raised an eyebrow at you. He knew you would be fine on your own. Then he grinned. "Are we going to make a big escape after right the met and greet." he leaned in to ask. You couldn't deny it would be tempting. Unfortunately Alfred heard him and started scolling both of you on how important connections were.

   Boring. This about summed up this gala. Only the thought that this was for charity made the fake smile remain on you face as you and Bruce talked to several other millionaires. Dick stayed glued to your side, throwing you pleading looks whenever he thought nobody was looking. There were are lot of congratulations for your engagement and every second person you met wanted to know when the wedding was. All you could think of was how you did not want to invite them.     At one point some of the ladies had dragged you off you had lost your boys in the crowd. It took a while till you found an opening allowing you to excuse yourself without seeming rude. Maneuvering through the room you kept on being interrupted by different people. Finally you decided you needed a break. The second the coast was clear you slipped into the gardens. Away from all those people you were able to breath.     Here the gardens were mostly deserted. A cold breeze was blowing through the night and felt nice against your skin. Leaving the sound of the gala behind you wandered a bit. You knew you would have to return soon, but for now you allowed yourself a few moments of quiet.     Suddenly a figure threw themselves at you. Catwoman took you by surprise, pinning you to a tree. Her hand held your throat, her claws digging painfully into your skin, but not breaking it. You starred at her shocked by her appearance but at the same time understanding that she didn't want to hurt you. If she would have wanted that she would already done so. Frowning you scowled yourself for having let your guard down enough that she had been able to caught you off-guard in the first place.     "Too easy." Selina commented on top of that. She studied your face for a moment then gave you a playful grin. "You aren't getting soft on me, are you?" Her voice was mocking, but her eyes were serious. They searched your eyes, before turning to your surroundings and finally back to you.     You realized that she was expecting someone to show up. And in the first place you didn't expect her to show up for small talk. Not here, not in full costume. Straightening up you gave her a cold glare. Dick once called it your bat-glare, but you pushed the thought from your mind at the moment. Selina smiled at your reaction and let go of you. "Good to know." she mocked as took a few steps back and crossed her arms. "You'll need it. Now more than ever."     "And why would that be?" you  questioned. You didn't trust the Catwoman, you had never really gotten along. She was a thief, you a cop, so you had been off to a bad start from the beginning. Then she fell for Batman and you would lie if you were to say you didn't got jealous from time to time. But she wasn’t all bad and you respected that in her.     "Oh, I don't know." Selina inspected her claws. "Maybe two-million dollars." Her eyes focused on you. "Two-million, put up for your head." Subconsciously she checked her surroundings. It was part of why you believed her claim. The other was the look in her eyes.     "The underworld would be all over a job like that." you brought up your only doubt. That amount would any wanna-be try to get a piece of you, and most of the underworld didn't like you in the first place. Word would be all over the city. Yet in the last few weeks there hadn't been a whisper of it on the streets.     "Believe me, they are." the other woman rolled her eyes. "News arrived only a few hours ago." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her posture was relaxed, unless you counted that her eyes were always moving you wouldn't guess how she really felt. "Of course this is spreading like a wild fire. Can't be long now."     "Who is the client?" you asked. Suddenly being out here didn't seem like such a smart idea anymore. You could hold your own, but you had no weapons on you and that gave you a limited defense. Your mind flashed to Bruce and Dick, knowing you had to warn them and leave the gala immediately, both to prepare and to not lure any idiots here. And you had to call Gordon to sent out a warning, you didn't want any of your female colleges shot because they were mistaken for you simple for wearing the same uniform.     Selina rose an eyebrow. "Who did you piss off that has that much money?" she asked. That alone didn't give you an answer, but then she looked at the ring on your hand and your eyes widened. "Officially the job came from the League of Shadows."     "Thalia Al Ghul." you realized. You never met the woman, but you knew about her. Bruce had told you about the assassin that had declared that she loved him. "The League of Shadows doesn't need help assassinating people." If Thalia was crazy enough to put a prize on your head over your engagement, you couldn't imagine her leaving it to street gangs. No, she would sent her own people to be sure the job got done. "It's a distraction. To keep Batman busy and out of the way."     "That woman is crazy, if you ask me." Catwoman agreed. Now that she had delivered her warning she turned to leave. "You better watch your step from here on. It's not my problem."     "Wait." you stopped her. She turned to look over her shoulder at you and raised an eyebrow. "Why warn me?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at her. "You had no reason to do so." And she clearly didn't want to be mixed up in this.      She sighed. "You mean because we want the same man?" she asked back. Selina would never admit how over the years of fighting you she came to respect in a way. "If he chooses me in the end I don't want it to be because you are dead." she said instead, knowing full well how unlikely that was to happen. Walking  away from you she didn't look back to see your reaction. Just in front of the wall she stopped. "Y/n." she hesitated, not turning around. "Be good to him."      Jumped over the wall she disappeared. You looked after her for a second, before you sprang into action. On the way back to the Gala you called Alfred, telling him to pick up up right away. Finding Bruce, you made up a excuse that you had to go home right away. Confused your fiance looked at you, knowing it was a lie. He must have caught something in your eyes as his eyes sharpened.     Together you quickly found Dick and went outside where Alfred was waiting in the car. "Y/n, what's wrong?" Bruce demanded as soon as you were inside. He was worried. You had hid it well from the others, but he knew the look in your eye. The one that said something real bad just happened.     Meanwhile you were already on the phone. You looked at him as you talked both to him and Gordon on the other side of the line. "I just had a run-in with Catwoman." you explained. "The League of Shadows has put a prize on my head."     Color drained from Bruce's face before the Batman took over. Dick whispered a small 'no' and starred at you. In the rear mirror you could see Alfred's eyes widening as he froze for a second. Grimly you nodded.

    In the next days you were never alone. "I'm starting to crawl up the walls." you told Gordon over the phone. He was on loudspeaker in the cave. This allowed you to keep typing away on the bat-computer. You were searching the city virtually for  any signs of the League-Assassins, working from what you found in the file Bruce had about them. So far you had no luck. It drove you crazy knowing that Batman and Robin were out there right now, searching themselves for the same thing. This was other than the other times, this time they were in danger because of you.     "I'm not putting you back on duty." Gordon sighed over the loudspeaker. "That would presenting you on a silver tray and I'm not doing it. Listen, I know you hate doing nothing, but right now the best thing you can do is to stay put. We are working as fast as we can, and we got the Bat on the case."      You sighed, you knew that. "Ellen is in the hospital because a druggie thought I was her." you reminded him, glaring at the display. It had been just as you had feared. "They are after me. Jim, you can't just keep me out of this. I have a right to be on this case. When they put a target on my head they not only put it on me but also on all those close to me. My friends, my family."      "Y/n..." Jim sounded tired. You knew he was pulling over time on this case, you had noticed the bags under his eyes when he come over to the manor to check on you. "I know it is hard. But please just try to stay safe. What does Bruce say to you wanting back on the case?"     He didn't like. Sitting back in the chair you ran a hand through your hair. Bruce was overprotective at the moment. And while he had all the reason to, you hated just sitting here. Your eyes went to the girl sitting on the table next to you. Batgirl hadn't said anything as she didn't want her father recognize her voice, but  she was watching you closely. You tried to give her a reassuring smile but you weren't feeling it at the moment.     Jim took your silence as an answer. "See?" he asked. "Y/n, think about your family and stay safe. I'm going to do everything I can to get this off your back, but you have to be patient. Stay put."     It was your family you were thinking about. But that was something you couldn't tell Gordon. You nodded you head in defeat. "Alright..." you gave  in, hating doing so. A relived sigh came over the loudspeaker and you shot them a short glare. "But you better watch your back while you are out there."     Gordon chuckled and insured you he would before hanging up. You looked at Barbara. Deep down you knew Jim would kill you would he know his little girl was involved in this. Having seen her in action you knew she could handle herself, but this was big and you hated getting her involved. She crossed her arms at first, then her face softened and she put her hands back on her side. "We are doing to catch them soon." she tried, not sure what would be the right thing to say.     Nodding you smiled. "We will." you agreed. But in reality you weren't that sure. All you knew was that it had to end soon or you would go crazy.     Engine sounds made you look up and see Batwoman come through the entrance on her motorcycle. Kate and you meet some years back and had been close ever since. She had gotten word of the bounty on your head and had come here right away. Throwing you a smile she got off and joined you. "Anything yet?" she asked. Giving you an once over, she raised an eyebrow and gave  your shoulder a light punch. "Ease up, we're nothing going to let them get past us."     "Quiet right." Alfred appeared out of nowhere. He was carrying a tray of his famous sandwiches and some drinks. Kate's eyes lit up at the sight of food and Barbara snatched herself one of the drinks right away. Looking at you with a knowing glint in his eyes the butler handed you an cup of coffee. "The masters have faced dangerous odds in the past. They are capable of protecting themselves, you wouldn't need to worry. Everyone here is."     Taking the cup you gave him a thankful smile. You knew he worried himself, but he was also right. Bruce and Dick faced the League of Shadows before. Looking down at your coffee you told yourself that you had to believe your fiance and son would be safe. They had to.     The hours ticked by. Kate and Barbara stayed with you and helped your virtual city search. Finally the batcar arrived. Jumping out Batman immediately called for Alfred. Feeling the blood in your veins freeze you ran to the car, where Bruce was carefully gathering Dick up in his arms. You starred at your bird, who hissed under his breath as he was moved. "I can walk." he complained weakly. His voice was barely more than a whisper.     "No." Bruce disagreed, his voice masked. "You're still weak from the poison." He looked up when you stepped next to them, then looked away from your painted eyes. The boy had been stabbed. Of course Bruce had been able to stop the bleeding and as well as give him the anti-poison, but there had been a moment he had been scared he would have lost him. You didn't stop him when he took Dick to the medical bay, laying him on the table there. Alfred went to work right away.     Sitting next your bird you took his hand, making him look at you. "I'm going to be fine, Batmom." he told you. You nodded and did your best to smile since you didn't want him to worry. While Alfred worked you kept your eyes on Dick. Bruce stood behind you, watching his old friend patch up his son. With one hand he reached out and squeezed your shoulder.     Dick grinned at you but winced a little when Alfred touched his wound. Batman told everyone how they had found Thalia's hideout and how her men had surprised them. When Robin got hurt they had to retreat, all they had was a phone they had found previous to the battle. By now they could be anywhere. Kate started demanding why they hadn't called for back-up, Barbara agreeing wholeheartedly with her.    You frowned as you listened to them, squeezing Dick's hand. This was your fault. Thalia was after you and your family was getting hurt trying to protect you. Because of you. "Batmom?" your bird called out for you, but you didn't react. Frowning he bit his lips. "Mom?"     Surprised you looked at him. This was the first time he had called you Mom. A smile, a real one, appeared on your face. "Yes, bird?" you asked.     "Don’t worry so much." he told you. "I had worse. We are going to  be fine. Big B and I got a plan. This is going to be over soon. You'll be safe." He wouldn't lose you. Dick didn't think that he could handle losing his mother a second time, he was going to do anything to keep you safe and he knew that Bruce was feeling the same.     "We're getting through this." Bruce agreed, turning to you. There was so much love in his eyes. He brushed a tear away you hadn't known you had been crying and kissed your cheek. His eyes searched yours, trying to reassure you.     Not saying anything you didn't disagree as you held his glance. But you knew Thalia wouldn't stop. You stayed with Dick as Alfred finished. He told you the boy was out of danger and only needed rest. Yet that wasn't true, as long as that woman wanted you dead your family would continue being in danger. Slowly Kate and Alfred left to run scans on the mobile phone Batman and Robin had brought with them. Bruce stayed with you, watching over both of you, till Barbara came back telling him that they had found something. He kissed your forehead before leaving, letting Batgirl stay behind.     By that time Dick was sleeping. You were still holding his hand. Your eyes hardened when you made a decision. It might be stupid, but you refused to do nothing as your family got hurt. "Barbara, would you mind staying with him?" you asked getting a blanket out of the cabinet. Gentle you tucked your bird in. You looked at the girl next to you. "I have to talk with Bruce for a moment and don't want him to be alone when he wakes up."     She nodded and you went to the front of the batcave. Bruce and Kate were comparing the information they had downloaded from the phone on the big screen. You glanced at it as you came up behind them. Then you turned to Bruce. "Dick said you had a plan." you started.     Looking up Bruce nodded. "Not much of one, but it could be a way to stop this all and I am willen to try it." he said. "We found proof that Ra's doesn't approve his daughter's action. If we  can convince him that it wouldn't be a good idea to wag war against me he will order her back."     "But he didn't stop her till now." You moved next to him and looked into his face. "There was no guarantee that he would strike a deal with you -or what he would have asked in return. It can even be that he would call Thalia back but let the bounty up."     Bruce frowned. It was a possibility. "No, Ra's doesn't do things half-assed." he said. "We convince him and he will take the bounty down. The only question is how to convince him." He glared at the file pictures of Ra's and Thalia on his screen trying to come up with a way to do so.     "The Al Ghuls have to respect strength." you thought slowly, an idea beginning to form. "It is how both their reputation and their position in their League is build. If they were to fail and another to succeed on the same job it would result in possible clients and their subordinate questioning their abilities to get future jobs done or lead a group of assassin. That means if we  defeat their best in a way that everybody knows it they can't afford continuing painting an target on my head."     "Which means  all we have to is to find them." Kate concluded crossing her arms. "Some nice reports on the news as they are on their way to jail should do the trick." Of course that would be the hard part. Bruce pursed his lips in thought.     Looking up at the screen you hesitated. "There would be one way that would be sure to lure her out." you started. Taking a deep breath you told them your plan. While there were many risk to it you were sure it would work.     Shocked at your plan Bruce jumped out of his chair and grabbed your arms. His eyes were pleading with you. Kate's eyes widened and her hands fell to her side. As she ran over what you had said in her again her face became unreadable. "You can't mean that." Alfred came up from behind you. "It is simply too-"     You cut him off with a stern glance. "Yes, I do mean it. Else I wouldn't have come up with this." Turning to Bruce you held his glance. "This was the one sure method to lure her out. Even you could need weeks to find her. Bruce, they nearly killed Dick tonight. We don't have weeks, and I refuse to let what happened tonight be repeated the next time you meet. While you might not like this plan, it does allow us to find her -and meet her on our terms."     "Don't." he asked. "Don't ask this of me. Not this." Bruce couldn't do this, he couldn't risk losing you like this. Shaken he pulled you into a hug. "We figure something else out. There are other ways. Just let me protect you." Your plan was crazy.      "Stop." you told him. "Don't ask me to sit at home and do nothing while you get hurt." You moved back a bit so you could look into his eyes. "There is no way I could let any of you die for me."

    Thalia was given out orders to set  up the new base when one of her men approached her with his ringing phone. The reason he did so was because the caller ID showed her number. Thing was batman had her phone. Smiling she shooed the man away as she took the phone from him. "Beloved, so nice of you to call." she picked up.     "Wrong." a female voice stated. Thalia could hear the smirk in your voice. Her face darkened as she realized it had to bee you. "You went through a lot of trouble to send a stranger a message, so I thought I say hello."     Thalia laughed at you. "Is that so?" she asked leaning back in her chair. "I put money on your head and you decide to say hello? You are either very brave or very stupid, and I'm afraid it is more of the later. It is beyond me to understand why Beloved fanicies someone like you."     "Well, what can I say? I guess there is a reason why I'm the one with the ring." She didn't answer you, so you continued. "That irks you, doesn't it? But what I don't understand is why spend money to get me killed. Weren't you the heir of an large assassin group?" You paused. "Don't tell me you are scared of little old me?"     "If that is what you really think you are ignorant." the assassin said. She could smell the bait. But you were wrong if you thought you could get away with it. Thalia happened to know for a fact that her Beloved would never let you go through with your plan. And meant you were on your own. "You are just dying to meet me, hmm? Alright, I think I can make some place in my schedule." She stopped for a moment. "Where?"     "Under one condition." you interrupted her eagerness. It amused her to think that you believed you could set the rules for your meeting, but she decided to humor you. After all she had no reason to keep to them. "Should I win you will take the bounty down and stay away from my family."     "I will always stay just as far away from Beloved as he stays away from me." Thalia chuckled self-assured. "But I can promise you that after tonight the bounty comes down. And don't worry I come alone." There was no way a little cop like you could survive a confrontation with her. So there would be no reason to have the bounty up afterwards anymore.     You were quiet for a long time. Thalia started thinking you were backing out and she wouldn't have been surprised if you did. Even you should be aware of what would happen to you when you meet. "The White Apple." you finally said and hung up right away. Looking at the phone the assassin laughed. She had known hurting Robin would draw you out.

   White Apple was the name of an old hotel. Once it had been one of the most glamours ones in Gotham. Today it stood abandoned. The wallpaper was peeling off and the roof had given way in some places. The building was scheduled to be torn down in the morning, but right now it was given you exactly what you needed. Light fell through the hole in the roof over the lobby and the windows, enough for you to see everything as you hid in the shadows.     It was a good thing you did as you saw Thalia enter through the second floor. She seemed surprised that you weren't waiting in the plain open. You kept an eye on her as you looked around to see if she had brought some of your henchmen. Just because you didn't see any didn't mean they wouldn't be around and you gave no worth to her word. Sure of herself as she was Thalia moved into the middle of the room. "Come out." she called, crossing her arms. "Or were you to scared to show up."     Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes for a second before letting your plan set in motion. Jumping from your perch you let yourself drop a few feet in front of her. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw what you were wearing and you couldn't help but smile. Your outfit had been a joke-present from Dick and Alfred for your and Bruce's anniversary years ago, not so long after the Batmom-name had come up. You had been never been meant to wear it, but they hadn't been ones for a half-baked job, so it was fully functional. It was a duplicate of the Batman-costume, identical save for the adjustment for your measures. Even the intercom had been online.     Raising to stand straight you faced your opponent. Thalia saw your smile and her shock turned into anger. "You dare step in front of me, wearing my Beloved's colors?!" she growled. Good, you wanted her angry. "I will teach you for your impertinence! For that alone I shall make your death painful, wench!"     You watched her, your muscle tense under your cape to react in a moment's notice. Making her mad gave you an advantage, but it was also dangerous. "It is Batmom." you said. Your message stood clear in the room and it was like a red flag for the other woman. "Don't worry. I don't expect you to get it."     She ground her teeth in anger and attacked. Yanking one arm up you shot your grappling hook while throwing a batarang at the wall. Hitting the switch electricity shot to the metal net between debris on the ground. It would have barely shocked her but she didn't know that and jumped back. You flung yourself at her, punching her in the face.     Unfortunately she recovered quickly, kicking your legs from under you. You managed to flip around and back to your feet. But Thalia was right on you. The fact that she was angry and made mistakes was the only reason you were able to keep up with her. She was unable to lay a hit on you, but so were you.      Suddenly Thalia jumped back. Sensing her move you ran behind a pillar. Taking cover just in time you escaped her bullets. You couldn't fight a gun head on. Removing your explosive you threw them at the inside balcony for second floor over your head. As the stone collapsed you ran forward into the door diagonal across from you while Thalia was forced to halt her fire to avoid getting hid.     In the settling dust she glared at the door you had disappeared through. Two men stepped next to her. One being Deadshot and the other being the Hook. "She's a slippery thing." Deadshot commented, leaning his unsheathed blade over his shoulders. "You sure you don't want any help?"     "Nothing I could not handle." Thalia waved off, moving forward with her gun at the ready. The other two assassin said nothing, they did what they were paid to do. They had come just in case the Batman showed up, but sent the rest of the man home.     Meanwhile Thalia was moving through an opening in the wall of the room you had escaped in and entered a hallway. She smiled when she saw a trail of red spots on the floor and started following them. They lead her to a dark room with barred windows. In it's center a figure was crouching on the floor, their back to the door and the cape unmistakable. Her grin widened and she carefully snuck closer. "Seems your luck ran out." she mocked pointing the gun at the back of their head.     Spinning around the figure got a grip on her gun and in on fluent motion broke her wrist and kicked her in the stomach. She fell to the ground. Rolling back to her feet Thalia looked up. Shook spread on her face when she realized who this really was. Batman glared at her, his fists clenching. "Beloved?" she asked confused.      A tip on the shoulder made her turn around. You punched her straight into the face before round-kicking her into the wall. That nickname was really starting to piss you off. Satisfied you looked her over and nodded. She would stay knocked out for a while. Turning you faced your fiance. Anger was rolling off him in waves. "I still don't like this." he let you know as he checked over you for any sigh of injury. It had been hard to stay hidden when  he had heard the gunfire and explosion.     Smiling you kissed him. "Thanks for trusting me." you said. It meant a lot that he had agreed to this plan and let you face Thalia on your own, knowing it had been the last thing he had wanted. But you were a team and you would protect your family together.     Not taking his eyes off you Bruce nodded. Over the intercom he called Batwoman who reported that Hook and Deadshot had separated. Deadshot had gone in one of rooms on second floor, while Hook had stayed downstairs and was at the moment making a little nap after making acquaintance with her fist. "I'm going after Deadshot." Bruce told you.     "Stay safe." you warned him and took a step back. You didn't like letting him go alone, but you know that it was  something he had to so. It was part of the man you had fallen in love with and you wouldn't change him. Bruce grinned and leaned close to kiss your forehead before he left. In the silence after you pulled your cowl back and looked at Thalia. "You know what?" you told the unconscious woman as you handcuffed her. "I hate your guts."     Quickly you took off the cape, belt and gloves and stuffed them in the bag you had laying next to the tubes of fake blood you had used for your blood trail earlier. Exchanging your top for your uniform blouse your transformation was complete. The belt was great, but you preferred the badge on your chest over the cape any day. It was also easier to explain to the squad team Batgirl just lead through the door.     "I should be taking that badge from you." Gordon glared at you. "I ordered you to not go after them." When you had called saying you were heading for a rendezvous with the woman that had put that bounty on your head he had nearly a heart attack. You were like a sister to him, why did have to do that to him? His eyes studied you for a moment. "You alright?"     "Batman says he has Deadshot." Batgirl gave the new she had gotten over the intercom. Her job had been to get the police safely passed the assassins when they arrived. Dick was at home, recovering with Alfred giving watch that he didn't come after them. He had hated being left behind, even if he could barely stand.     Getting the news that the last present member of the League of Shadows was down, you relaxed. This meant you won and your family was safe. "Never better." you answered Gordon's question. He shook his head at you, wondering what he was supposed to do with you. A few days later you got the news that the bounty on your head had been dropped.

    It was the big day. Bruce Wayne was standing in front of the mirror trying to make his tie, but that thing didn't want like he wanted. Alfred chuckled and stepped next to him. "Let me help you, Bruce." he said and took the tie from him. When he managed get it right at first try, the groom pouted at him.     Dick laughed at him. He had fully recovered and was now sitting on the bed in the room, dressed in a tuxedo. "Someone seems nervous." he commented with a grin. Bruce shot him a soft glare, but the boy's grin only widened. Rolling his eyes the Wayne tried to ignore him and pulled his tuxedo on and turned back to the mirror to make sure it sat right.     "You look fine." Alfred insured you, laying an hand on his shoulder. He looked at their reflection feeling his heart swell with joy. Bruce had grown up to a fine man. "Your parents would be proud if they could see you now." he said, for he knew he was.     Bruce looked at him with glittering eyes. Nodding he smiled. "Thank you, Alfred." he proud out. Looking at the clock he saw it was time. Dick ran ahead as the three left the room.  Alfred left to join you as the other two headed in the garden. The wedding for the media was later this week, this ceremony was only for the close circle of your friends.     The garden was decorated in white roses and ribbons. A white rug lead between the chairs where their friends sat up to a pavilion where the priest was waiting. Clark, who Bruce had asked to be his best man, was standing next to him and grinned at the groom as the later got closer. On the other side of the priest stood Ellen, your bridesmaid. Most of the Justice League and the GCPD were here. Dick joined Jim and Barbara in the first row as Bruce continued his way to stand between the priest and Clark.     Part of him couldn't believe this was really happening. You had been dating for five years, you had seen the worst and the best of him and still stayed by his side. He couldn't help but think he would have never guessed that it would come this far when he had saved you all those years ago. But he wouldn't change a thing. Bruce had never been this happy.     Music started to play. Your guests rose as Bruce looked over to you. You looked breath-taking. A wide smile was on your face and your eyes glittered in joy. Slowly Alfred guided you up to the pavilion, the trail of your dress moving behind you.       Reaching your groom, Alfred shed a tear as he handed you to Bruce. At the priests word the guest sat down, but the two of you had only eyes for each other. "Today we came together bear witness to seeing these two people join hands and set out on the path of marriage." the priest started. "To face life together, no matter what the future brings, good and bad times alike." He turned to the groom. "Bruce Wayne, do you take the here present Y/n Y/l/n as your wife? Do you swear to love them, today and forevermore? To live together and honor them, to keep them close in sickness and health, to never sway from their side till the end of your days?"     "I do." Bruce said. You could see his love for you burning in his eyes.     "And do you, Y/n Y/l/n, take the here present Bruce Wayne as your husband? Do you swear to love them, today and forevermore? To live together and honor him, to keep him close in sickness  and health, to never sway from their side till the end of your days?"     "I do." you answered, holding his hands tight.     "Since you are both willen you may exchange your vows." the priest said and Clark handed Bruce the ring.      "I promise to be there when you need me, to fill your days with sunshine." Bruce swore as he put his ring on your finger. "To comfort you and encourage you, to help you reach your goals. To be your best friend ever and to love you all my life with all my heart." He smiled at the ring on your hand and the meaning behind it. Looking back up in your eyes his heart seemed to burst in joy.      You weren't doing any better. Taking the ring Ellen handed you, you looked back at him, your eyes shining with joy and love. "I promise to be there when you need me, to fill your days with sunshine." you said your vow. "To comfort you and encourage you, to help you reach your goals. To be your best friend ever and to love you all my life with all my heart."     The priest smiled at the pair of you. "I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." Bruce and you hadn't to be told twice. This was the happiest day of your life.

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[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Before the Fall (Pt 1)

Destiny fic. A Dead Orbit scavenger is resurrected as a Guardian hundreds of cycles after her death but can remember everything from her old life. While she struggles to understand why another new Guardian brings back memories of a time Zavala wishes he could forget.

Set in two time periods: during the events of Destiny pre-Red Legion and just before the Battle of Six Fronts. 

Drama/romance | slow burn | sexytimes at some point | Andara probably swears a lot | if you’re just meeting me hi this story will have a lot of Zavala | Shaxx, Ikora, Saladin and Osiris and Lyssa the Lighthearted feature too

Author’s Note

Bear with me, I know this first chapter and author’s note are long. Future installments will be pithier. 

This is a companion story to After the Fall but can be read as a standalone. It features my OCs Andara, an Awoken Voidwalker Warlock, and Piax, a human Sunbreaker Titan. It’s primarily Andara’s story but will feature chapters in Piax’s POV (point of view) exploring her early days of being a Guardian and why she’s so devoted to Zavala. It will also explore a lot of Zavala’s back story through his POV, including his romantic history. Because I’m allergic to stories without kissing.

OK, so, the lore. This is probably the longest Author’s Note I’ve ever written! Thanks Destiny for your confusing, vague lore XD For those interested, I’ll set out what we know that’s relevant to this story as well as the assumptions I’ve made.

You can totally skip this and start the story if you prefer. I’ll explain things in the story as I go along.

This fic is set during what I’ll call the Early City Age, just before the Battle of Six Fronts, and the Late City Age, just before the Red Legion Attack in D2. Six Fronts was the first big battle to defend the Last City and marked a turning point in the way the City was run. (In Zavala’s Origins trailer it’s the battle he, Shaxx and Saladin are street-fighting in.)

At the time of the Battle of Six Fronts, the Last City was at the mercy of the Faction Wars, there was no Consensus and it seems the Vanguard didn’t exist as it did today. The Wall had been built by the Titans. The Iron Lords were probably already dead so there was a power vacuum in the Last City.

One assumption I’m making is that the Exo Titan Saint-14 and Lord Saladin worked with the Speaker to govern the Last City, but in some sort of unofficial capacity. Saint-14 must have been in an important leadership role because after Six Fronts he vouches for the Warlock Osiris’s elevation to Vanguard Leader.

Another assumption is that because Saladin mentored Zavala and Shaxx and the early days of the Last City were kind of YAY TITANS, Saladin brought his boys into important discussions and decisions. This is long before the rift between Saladin and Shaxx, which happened after Twilight Gap.

The Crucible was founded after Twilight Gap but as Guardians love to fight each other I’ve made up a thing called Skirmishes. Shaxx runs these and they function in a similar but scaled down way to the Crucible.

Thank you to @littleshebear for letting me use her Zavala/Lyssa the Lighthearted relationship headcanons, and for all our endless discussions about lore and the Vanguard and Guardians. Lyssa is a real character in the grimoire, a Sunsinger Warlock like Osiris.

Tl;dr?

Early City Age = the City has a Wall and the Guardians are just starting to venture out beyond it

Late City Age = the setting of Destiny the game

Chapter One

Master Rahool, Late City Age

The little silver Ghost lay silently on the table where the Cryptarch had left it. A Hunter had brought it in a few hours earlier along with a stack of engrams that she’d found on Mercury. 

Couldn’t revive it. Looked like it had been there for years, almost buried by a broken Vex gateway. Think you can fix it?

Now he had a few minutes to spare Rahool picked up the Ghost and examined it. Could he? Sometimes he performed maintenance on Ghosts that had received knocks on the battlefield, but they were more cosmetic adjustments. This Ghost could be beyond help, drained of Light and unable to seek out the Guardian it had once belonged to. He or she could be long dead, or perhaps the Ghost had never even found them.

There was a lot of gunk in its seams and Rahool worked at them with a thin silver tool. The Ghost was starting to look clean, but still very dead, when suddenly it lit up and made a whirring noise.

‘Ah, so you’re not dead. How long have you been sleeping?’

The Ghost began spinning urgently and a moment later shot out of his hands. Rahool watched it zoom across the courtyard and then over the Tower railings and out of sight.

He laid down his silver tool and smiled to himself. ‘Goodbye, Little Light. Looks like you’ve got someplace to be.’

Zavala, Early City Age

Twilight was descending and the gates were being readied for closure. The Wall cast its long shadow over the Last City, a sprawling thing of low stone buildings and wooden huts. The Traveler hung in the sky, bright white and silent.

Zavala remembered when the Last City was merely a motley collection of tents and had no Wall to protect it. That they’d managed to cling on in those early days was a miracle. With the Wall to protect them and new Guardians arriving in the City almost every day they could only grow stronger. There was hard work ahead of them and there was hope, and he found himself welcoming both equally.

A pulse rifle in his hands and a stack of other weapons on a trestle table before him, Zavala watched the thin stream of Guardians returning from the Cosmodrome. Two Titans, laughing loudly with their helmets under their arms, greeted Zavala before heading for the Guardians’ Hall behind him.

He’d be out there himself tomorrow but today he had duties for Saint-14, attending to the stockpile of new weapons that the Faction scavengers had traded with them. In the last few years they’d begun venturing outside the Wall, the Guardians clearing out enclaves of Fallen while the Factions looked for supplies.

A slight figure in black armour streaked past Zavala, pulled one of the Titans round and punched him in the face. He reeled, and blood began pouring down his chin. The scavenger started screaming at both of them.

‘How could you? Do you even understand what you’ve done? We’ll never be able to replace the tech that you –’

The bigger Titan, the one who hadn’t been punched, narrowed his eyes and reached for his gun.

Zavala threw down the pulse rifle he was holding and lunged for the Guardian’s arm. He didn’t recognise this woman but she wore a Dead Orbit insignia on her chest plate. If they shot her she would stay fatally, permanently dead. There were already enough tensions between the Factions and the Guardians and the last thing the Speaker needed was a murdered scavenger.

‘Hey. Hey. That’s enough,’ he called, trying to be heard over her screaming. But she wasn’t listening to him and a crowd was gathering.

Turning to the bigger Titan he said, ‘Go and report in to Saint-14. Both of you. Now.’ The Titan with the bloodied lip needed some persuading but finally the two of them headed into the hall.

The woman tried to follow them, still shouting, but Zavala hooked an arm about her waist and pulled her back. ‘No you don’t. I want a word with you.’

She was like him, an Awoken, with knotted purple hair and dusty black armour. A bag was slung over her shoulders and inside he could see it was stuffed with Golden Age tech. Good tech. Things the City needed. There was an auto-rifle holstered on her back and a knife at her hip, though even in anger she hadn’t drawn them. She didn’t want to fight, she wanted to be heard.

‘Want to tell me what that was about?’ Over his shoulder he could sense onlookers, but ignored them.

The Awoken finally seemed to realise he was there and spoke in a tight voice, her fists clenching. ‘I spent two hours clearing all the Fallen off a Warsat and those … those knuckleheads jumped in and destroyed it. I want to fucking kill them.’

A Warsat. They were precious to Dead Orbit and their mission to get a fleet off the ground. The Guardians needed them too if they were ever to reconnect a communications network. At the moment they were living blind and that was dangerous.

‘It’s a terrible waste. But things happen in the field –’

‘They destroyed it on purpose.’

Zavala pressed his lips together. They wouldn’t have. Would they? ‘If that’s true then it’s unforgivable. I’m sorry.’

‘It is true.’

Then I’m going to need to talk to Saint-14 and Saladin about this. The chain of command between the Speaker and the Factions and Guardians was blurred with all groups feeling like they knew what was best for the City, but if Titans had screwed up then it was clear what needed to be done.

He reached for his datapad. ‘One of the Hunters came back to the City with a suspected Warsat sighting yesterday. I know it won’t make up for the time you spent on the other one, but it’s something.’ 

It was quite a lot, actually. They could have swapped this intel with the factions for more weapons or tech.

She examined the coordinates, her expression tight but mollified. ‘I know the place. Thank you.’

‘Be careful. That place is infested with Fallen.’

But the young woman was already striding away, her hand tight around her bag strap. ‘I can handle myself. You handle those numb-nuts.’

Zavala grimaced. Something to look forward to. If he had his way he’d send the two Titans who’d destroyed the Warsat with the scavenger to help her get the new one, but Saint-14 was wary of getting too involved with the Factions. They do their thing and we do ours, and keep our people strictly separate lest we start bleeding Guardians to their causes.

It was true that the Factions’ aims were vastly different theirs, and each others, but they had to think in terms of the next few hundred cycles. Pushing back the Fallen from the Cosmodrome, getting airborne again and protecting this City was going to take everyone’s efforts, no matter their loyalties.

He turned back to the pile of weapons and saw that the cluster of onlookers had dispersed except for an exceptionally large Titan and a Warlock in canary yellow robes. Shaxx and Lyssa the Lighthearted. Lyssa was looking at Zavala with the smallest of smiles on her lips.

Shaxx watched the scavenger disappear into a side street on the far side of the square. ‘That was a good punch she threw. Shame she’s fallen in with those scrounging bastards.’

Traveler’s light, he was getting sick of this sort of talk. ‘We need Dead Orbit. The supplies they bring in are helping the City get off the ground. We don’t have time to scavenge ourselves.’ And if the scavengers were willing to risk their one life in the Cosmodrome they deserved respect for that, at the very least.

‘Not far enough off the ground for them though, is it?’ Shaxx grunted. ‘You handled her well.’

‘I didn’t handle her. I just did what needed to be done.’ Zavala turned his attention back to the weapons. He’d finish up here and go and talk to Saint. No, he’d talk to Saladin first. His mentor always had something sensible to say. He wished the Iron Lord would lead the Titans instead of the Exo, but Saladin had said many times that he was an old wolf and didn’t have it in him. Not anymore.

‘I’m going to get something to eat if either of you need a break,’ Lyssa announced.

Zavala pushed the pile of weapons to one side, sorting through them. Only two auto rifles, and in terrible condition. Later tonight he’d strip them back and see whether he could fix them.

‘Zavala.’

There was an edge to Shaxx’s voice and he looked up. ‘What? Oh, goodbye Lyssa.’

The Sunsinger headed for the hall with a flick of her yellow robes, and Shaxx sighed. ‘You are an ass sometimes.’

Three pulse rifles. Five sidearms. ‘Am I?’

‘Lyssa. She wants to get to know you better.’

He’d heard that before. Guardians wanted to get to know him into order to grill him about his fighting techniques. Or at least that’s what it felt like. ‘She’s already bested me in the Skirmishes.’

The look of shock on the Titan’s face was comical. ‘She did? When?’

It had been about a year ago, and the Sunsinger had burned through him like he was nothing. When he finally felled her she’d leapt up again before he’d got his breath back and knocked his legs out from beneath him. Aiming an empty sidearm at his head she’d whispered ‘pew, pew,’ and he couldn’t help but grin up at her.

‘It didn’t show on the tally. She was out of bullets.’ But they knew, and ever since when she overheard him talking about the Skirmishes he thought he saw a secretive, pleased smile on her lips. But she hadn’t told anyone, so neither had he. ‘Shaxx, move. I want to get this finished.’

The larger Titan folded his arms and looked at his friend. ‘I wasn’t talking about the Skirmishes. Why is everything about fighting with you?’

‘That’s rich,’ Zavala murmured at his datapad.

Shaxx grinned. ‘I know how to have fun. And Lyssa wasn’t thinking about besting you. Not in the Skirmishes at least.’

Zavala finally looked up. ‘Then why did she …’ But the knowing grin on Shaxx’s face made him trail off. Oh, like that.

‘Bald, blue and apparently pretty thick. I don’t know why she’s interested either, but I’ve never wasted much energy trying to understand women.’ Shaxx clouted him on the shoulder and said as he walked away, ‘Go and talk to her.’

Finally distracted from the pile of weapons Zavala looked toward the hall. Was he hungry?

He could eat.

He was just putting down his datapad when Osiris appeared across the square, the Warlock’s long, thin figure upright and haughty. He walked past Zavala and entered the hall.

A cloud passed over Zavala’s good mood and he suddenly remembered why he didn’t see much of Lyssa. Everywhere she went her mentor seemed to be, crooning at her like she was a pet. Something about the man got Zavala’s hackles up and he turned back to the weapons with a frown, finding that he wasn’t hungry after all.

You made it to the end, thank you! I hope you’re enjoying it so far. Leave me a comments and let me know what you think. Huge thanks to @littleshebear for beta-ing and checking my lore.

[verrottweil]

like fuel to the fire

Monkey D. Luffy has been assigned to be Rob Lucci's intern at Kobe port's customs. What follows is Lucci's slow descent into /feelings/.

Chapter 1

Read on AO3.

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Eight minutes before the alarm on his phone goes off, Lucci stirs awake and snaps his eyes open. The Maersk Elgin’s docking at five thirty and he needs to be at the harbor’s Rokko terminal at least half an hour beforehand to prepare the inspection. It’s pitch black in his bedroom aside from the streetlight falling in from the window. He sits upright, stretches his arms out above him, gets the crick out of his neck and throws the sheets off his legs, almost knocking the white roll pillow off the foot-end.

Lucci switches the lamp on his nightstand on. He squints bleary-eyed against the yellowish-white glare, hauling a hand through his unruly mop of hair and scratching the base of his neck, fingertips reaching past the neckline of the tank top he sleeps in.

His bedroom is sparsely furnished due to a lack of space. Lucci lives in a two-story building down some small, crowded neighborhood about a twenty-minute drive away from port where he works as a customs officer; but there’s a hospital nearby, and a park with a basketball court that’s always deserted in the evenings. He grabs his phone, gets out of bed and heads on down to the kitchen. Blinking the last sleep from his eyes, Lucci looks disheveled in just a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top.

Summers are hot and humid even at night, and aside from the constant hum of the air-conditioner and the shuffle of his bare feet, it’s dead-quiet inside the house.

With the sound of the coffee machine on the background chasing away the silence, Lucci rounds the kitchen counter, opens his fridge and grabs a glass jar of jam and bagged pastries. There’s a detailed drawing of a rabbit on the paper bag: the local bakery’s logo. After a quick breakfast, he drinks his strong cup of coffee in peace, scrolling down the news on his phone, sweeps the crumbs off his plate into the paper bag, gets up and slides the glass door open to the patio. Outside, the temperature’s bearable and the air’s not too clammy yet.

There’s a decently-sized dovecote mounted against the wall, made from pinewood. A pigeon’s low and steady cooing can be heard from the inside.

Lucci softly knocks on the wood and when he hears the rustle of feathers, he starts to strew the crumbs over the ledge, clicking his tongue to draw the pigeon out. The bird’s name is Hattori. Over five years ago, Lucci found the pigeon as a helpless, young squab in a broken nest on the ground and decided to raise it by himself.

The sound of cicadas dooms up from his neighbor’s backyard behind the garden wall, but he barely pays heed to the noise. He checks if there’s still enough water in the bottle holder to last Hattori for the day.

Back inside the house, Lucci continues his morning routine. With the grace of a large cat on the prowl, he silently trudges up the steps of the staircase and makes a beeline for the bathroom, which interior is much like the rest of the house: modern, monochrome and sleek. He does a hundred pushups on the bathroom floor and takes a quick, cold shower.

After toweling himself dry and combing his unruly, wet mane, Lucci attentively studies his reflection in the rectangular mirror above the washing table, searching for stubborn hairs in his brows and goatee, set of tweezers in hand, and brushes his teeth.

He unceremoniously dumps the wet towel and his sweaty underwear into the laundry hamper, the wicker lid falling back shut with a curt bang. Quickly steps into a pair of designer boxer-briefs and pulls them up over his ass, so the white elastic band spelling out Emporio fits snug around his hipbones. ‘Dress to impress’ has been a motto Lucci adhered to since his early teens.

Most of his wardrobe consists of designer suits, quality clothing, patent leather dress shoes and fancy loafers, but in his opinion, an expensive taste’s well worth the price. It’s something he acquired from his uncle.

Lucci was orphaned at a young age and since he didn’t have any relatives who were financially able to raise him back in Italy, he got sent off to Tokyo, where his uncle worked at the embassy. Money was never an issue, but him being a foreigner was, sometimes. He stands shirtless in front of his closet, pensively rubbing his chin as his gaze goes from one coating hanger to the next, trying to decide on what shirt to wear.

Under the bright bedroom lights, the blackish purple color of the crossed-out squares tattooed on his arms is overexposed, boldly standing out against his slightly-tanned skin.

When he’s fully dressed and put his hair up in a ponytail to get it out of his neck, Lucci deliberately leaves the first two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, spritzes some of his favorite cologne against the column of his throat and pops the collar. It’s still so early but he feels surprisingly awake. Must’ve been the coffee. He just needs to get his lunchbox from the fridge, with the leftovers from yesterday’s dinner, and grab his phone from the counter and his briefcase, then he can slip on his shoes and head off to work.

Driving down to the harbor in the dark feels like being in a movie. Streetlight falls through the front window of his car in neat intervals. Lucci likes the contemplative quiet of the city during nighttime. It’s a stark contrast with the bustling port just beyond its borders.

Spandam’s waiting for him at the beginning of the terminal, with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his blazer and his tie whipping around his neck. There’s a strong wind that sprays the smell of seawater into their faces. Dockworkers are scrambling around them, readying the terminal for the ship’s arrival, and in the background, over the sound of the waves crashing against the walkway, the wheels of a movable crane bulldozer over the concrete. Lucci furrows his brows when he sees his superior isn’t waiting for him alone.

One of the foremen he recognizes to be Franky is standing next to him, talking excitedly to a young man barely out of his teens. Lucci’s never seen the boy around here before.

“Ah, Lucci, there you are,” Spandam beckons him over impatiently when he’s close enough, obviously tired of being ignored by his company. “Remember that, ahem, assignment we talked about last week?” All he gets in response is an unimpressed, stone-cold expression. Spandam bristles and continues irritably, “About the internship, yes? Pah, well, this is your internee. Monkey D. Garp’s grandson—”

Before Spandam manages to wedge another word in, the boy pipes up loudly, “Oi, I can introduce myself!”

“My name’s Luffy,” he says over Franky’s roaring laughter, turning towards Lucci with a big grin on his face. “Nice to meet you!” His words aren’t accompanied by the customary bow or handshake, but there’s enthusiasm visible in his loose-limbed, almost lanky posture. “And I know more people who work here than just my gramps.”

Lucci wonders how much it would affect his perfect record if he turns around and walks away now. This boy’s going to be a headache, of that he’s sure.

“Like me,” Franky agrees gleefully, pointing at himself with a satisfied smile curled on his lips. “Hah, Luffy’s been around the docks since he’s been a kid, always getting into trouble—” Lucci snaps his head up at the word, looking sharply at the foreman as he says this, while Luffy happily nods along in confirmation.

“Did you know Shanks had to dive into the water to get ‘em out once? Garp was so pissed.”

Done with the conversation, Spandam loudly scrapes his throat, and when that doesn’t get their attention, he exclaims rather loudly, “Yes, yes, but Garp’s grandson – “My name’s Luffy!” – will be upholding a certain standard now, and who better to coach him than our very best, mmmh?”

Scratching the side of his head, Franky looks somewhat dubiously at Spandam and mutters, “They’ll be evenly matched if you ask me.”

Spandam huffs in return and replies stiffly, “But I didn’t.” Jabbing his forefinger at Lucci, he continues, “He’ll be under your supervision. Show him what we do around here, ease him into it with some easy tasks and please don’t give Garp a reason to complain about us. Last thing I need is the coast guard nagging at me!”

“I’ll make sure he’s on his best behavior,” Lucci responds coolly, before turning away and walking further down the terminal. He pauses and casts a glance over his shoulder at Luffy. “Are you coming or not?”

Luffy wasn’t really paying much attention to the conversation going on around him; he was watching wide-eyed how the dockworkers install the movable cranes along the walkway and drive their container handlers around. When Lucci addresses him, he tilts his head in surprise. Giddy at the thought of getting on one of those huge container ships, he bounces after him, moving on the balls of his feet. Lucci heaves a deep sigh.

When the Maersk Elgin docks, the cranes are neatly lined up along the terminal walkway with plenty of space in between to stockpile the containers. They’re standing near the far end for the inspection.

“—And since the ship comes from Shanghai, we have clearance to open around fifteen percent of the cargo even if the documentation checks out.” Lucci stops talking when he notices the boy hasn’t listened to a single word he said.

The lights from the ship reflect a blinking red and blue in Luffy’s big, expressive eyes as he stares unabashedly, mouth slightly open and rocking back on forth on the tips of his toes.

Leaning in, Lucci says with a cold smirk, “You could at least pretend to listen.”

He blinks, suddenly coming back to the conversation and chuckles sheepishly, bringing a hand to the back of his head. “Shishishi, but that would’ve been even ruder,” Luffy remarks as if that would get him out of trouble.

Seizing up the height of the ship’s hull, he then prompts, “So when are we going aboard?!”

“We’re not,” Lucci deadpans, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants. Some hairs come loose from his ponytail when the sea breeze picks up again. At Luffy’s pouty expression, he merely scoffs and says, “If you would’ve payed attention, you’d know that we inspect the containers off board. We check two or three right here and the others at the shelter.”

“Aw…” Luffy mumbles, and judging by the high, innocent tone of his voice, most of what Lucci said went over his head anyway. “But we can go inside the containers, right?”

Lucci closes his eyes briefly and takes a steadying breath, borrowing on his patience to get him through this conversation. It’s not that he’s bad with people; his no-nonsense demeanor and appearance usually pave the way to smooth social interactions. His mind’s susceptible to intrusive thoughts when he has to deal with people too long however, and those thoughts usually turn to violence.

Shortly after moving to Kobe, Lucci became a member of a Muay Thai club. It’s one of the few martial arts disciplines that promises the intense workout he needs.

His uncle made him do all sorts of fighting sports during his teens to get him out of his hair. Lucci learned to love the thrill of a good fight. He’s even gotten suspended a couple of times because he’d gotten carried away and beat his opponent to a bloody pulp on the mats. There’s something particularly satisfying about blood drying in the creases of his knuckles.

“Oi, can we go into the containers or not?” Luffy pipes up again impatiently, apparently not so keen on being ignored himself.

Lucci stares the boy down, nonplussed by the demanding tone in his voice and the gleam in his eyes, and studies his appearance for a moment. There’s a thin, long scar under his left eye. Even in the relative darkness, the whitish tissue sticks out against his suntanned skin. His shirt’s too big around his shoulders, store-bought, and rumpled, hanging half-out of his pants. Luffy furrows his brows together and returns Lucci’s stare defiantly.

In the background, the rumble of the cranes and of the containers being placed down on the concrete resounds over the shouts of the dockworkers.

“Yes,” Lucci eventually says, smirking coldly again. “You can go inside. Be careful nobody gets the idea in their head to reseal the container though. You might run out of air.” Softly he mutters under his breath, “And that’d be a real pity.”

“Why would anyone close the container? You’ll be there to make sure everything’s alright, right?” Luffy responds easily with a carefree grin on his face, and he crosses his arms behind his head, looking off at the ship again.

Taken aback by the boy’s response, Lucci doesn’t reply right away, absentmindedly scrutinizing his profile for a moment. He then bristles and clicks his tongue in annoyance. Some dockworkers are busy offloading a container for inspection a couple of feet away from them; the reflective strips on their safety vests glinting silver in the slivers of light. Lucci unclenches his fists and walks on over, expecting the boy to keep up.

“Oh!” Luffy yells excitedly when he sees one of the dockworkers with a crowbar. “Can I open it?!”

Startled, the dockworker almost drops the crowbar and fumbles to keep a tight grip. He looks from his colleagues to Lucci to the boy and then back to Lucci, instinctively knowing he’s the one who really calls the shots. Rolling his eyes, he reminds him snidely, “You’re supposed to be on your best behavior.”

Luffy rubs his chin pensively, nods to himself and then turns to the dockworker with the crowbar, looking at him earnestly. “Can I please open it?” He asks politely.

It’s going to be a long day, Lucci thinks as he watches how the astounded dockworker hands the crowbar over to the boy and helps him open the container. He’s going to pay a visit to Spandam’s office once they’re done with the inspection. Agreeing to coach an intern is one thing, but Lucci has no intention to become a glorified babysitter. With a hoarse creak, the container door slowly swings open under the force of the crowbar; Luffy starts to laugh loudly and his entire face lights up in triumph.

Lucci just barely resists the urge to dunk him into the sea.

.