#because my birthday and because the loyalty prompt was my own suggestion

[owletstarlet]

The following say, Souko came again. And, the day after that. I tried telling her that Reiko had waited for her that next day. That she was here the day after that too. That there was a flower field she wanted to show her. That it was such a beautiful place. However, Souko was never able to hear my voice. For days on end, Souko and I sat side by side, waiting for Reiko to return. Day after day I kept talking to her, but my voice never reached her. Then, when the seasons changed— I was never able to tell her. I couldn’t tell Souko that Reiko had waited for her. And I couldn’t tell Reiko that Souko had actually waited for her. I couldn’t tell them.”

—chapter 89, “Tell Me Your Name” pt 2

@natsumeweek day 7, loyalty/longing

[writers-worst-nightmare]

Match up request:

TV show preference: My Hero Academia.

Age range preference: Class 1A.

Sexuality (if comfortable): Bisexual.

Pronouns (if comfortable): She/Her.

Name (if comfortable): I prefer to be called Stitched.

Appearance (detailed): I am mixed raced, brown eyes and dark brown hair. My hair is naturally curly but I straighten it often, I also often dye the lower half dark green. I’m quite short (5’2). I like to wear dark clothes and dark make up (black ripped jeans, black converses and lots of eyeliner). If I’m not wearing black, I’m wearing green.

Positive Personality Traits: Adventurous, Bravery, Honesty, Loyalty, Resilience, Strong

Negative Personality Traits: Blunt, Cold, Passive aggressive, Pickyness, Insecurity, Jealously

Neutral Personality Traits (if any): I’m very ambitious and an ambivalent.

Like(s): Netflix, Anime, Cats, Makeup, Green

Dislike(s): Chocolate, Dogs (plz don’t hate me 🙏)

Perfect First Date: Going to see a movie or a theatre play.

Talent(s): I can flip my eyes all the way back for awhile.

True or False:

I am very confident: True.

I am very insecure: True.

I like to watch TV: True.

I like to read books: False.

I would be more comfortable if my partner confessed to me first: False.

I would be more comfortable if I confessed to my partner first: True.

I make a lot of oc’s: True.

I don’t make a lot of oc’s: False.

I don’t know what a oc is: False.

Which one:

Fiction or fantasy? - Fiction.

Anime or manga? - Anime.

Rock, paper, or scissors? - Scissors.

Real life or fiction? - Fiction.

Real people/girls/boys or fiction people/girls/boys? - Real people.

Play or watch? - Watch.

Learn from hearing it or learn from experiencing it? - Hearing it.

Extra information: 

Fun fact(s): I’m from London, I listen to a lot of Metric (they’re a band from Canada), I also listen to Paramore...also I’m an insomniac?

Mental disorder(s): Anxiety?

Additional information that may have not been included 

Writing prompt (if you want to since I am going to make a little blurb thing for you): Maybe something both I am and my matchup are passionate about? (feel free to not use this - I don’t mind!)

Thank you!

Sorry if this is a little late I am at vacation with some family and I want to spend more time with them! 

Congrats! You got Asui! :) 

Appearance: she doesn’t mind your appearance except for the fact that she is a short 4′11 and can’t reach like ANYTHING (I mean it’s not by a lot between you and her but still) she also has more of a soft girl aesthetic and you are well…you…honestly she is afraid of you sometimes when you pull out like platform heels and go to Hot Topic. But that is besides the point! With your green hair she honesty loves it, like she will literally play with it all the time and test different hairstyles. 

Positive personality: honestly she looks up to you in so many ways, you push her to be well…her…since she is shy and mostly introverted she likes that you push her out of her comfort zone. She also loves showing you places to hike or swim at. 

Negative personality: she is a little iffy on this, I mean she tells you to tell somebody something (because she is too shy to ask/tell them) and you just rant to them or get into a fight with them and Asui is over here like. “Noooooo” but she likes your stubborn personality and how you are afraid to not pick up a fight.

Neutral personality: being somebody who doesn’t really strive for a goal she admires your ambitious personality and the fact that you find a goal and stick to it all the dang time

Likes: 

-Netflix:

She likes watching Netflix as well (but please for the love of God don’t make her watch a horror show/movie) when you stay up late at night watching a show/movie she is the first one to get you water and food.  -Anime: 

GOD SHE IS SO SUPPORTIVE!! I feel like she doesn’t really like watching anime since it isn’t realistic but she will watch it for you! She just looks at your goofy smile and MELTS

-Cats: 

She doesn’t really get the whole dogs vs cats thing going on but I feel like she has a lot of pets if her own. Since she is a frog she might have that scenes that animals have feelings as well. One time she got you a frog (like one of those cute one’s) and a cat. Your heart just melted…poor girl is trying her best…

-Makeup: 

Doesn’t really get the whole makeup thing but she tried her best. She isn’t seen wearing a lot of makeup (or any) but she does like watching you doing your makeup. And since she is so supportive she might even ask the dekusquad for advice on makeup a den five you some for your birthday. 

-Green: 

What drew her in was your green hair, not a lot of people have that beautiful green coloring and she LOVES it. She buy’s you a lot of green stuff and is so happy whenever you wear like a green shirt she bought you that one time.  Dislikes: 

-chocolate: 

She likes chocolate but doesn’t really mind that you don’t, I mean you guy’s have this whole “opposites attract” thing going on so she is use to having differences. Sometimes she will sneak some chocolate and bring you some candy that you do like, it is the least she can do when everyone else is over chocolate and you are just sitting there like. “F**k”

-dogs: 

Like I said I feel like she has a lot of dogs at her house. So whenever you come over she makes sure to either keep you in her room or keep the dog’s in their crate so they won’t bother you as much. 

First Date: 

You guy’s went to a beach and played with sand castles. Then went to the movie theaters late at night and watched a movie. 

Talents; 

NO NO NO don’t do this on best girl. She will just look at you and worry fills her eyes. Then Todoroki is looking at you all like ““do that again” and Asui is like ““don’t do that again” it is honestly the most chaotic thing ever and you love it. 

Blurb: 

Asui locked up the two dogs that she had as you started to go up the stairs to her room. ““WAIT UP STITCHED!” Asui yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth so her soft voice could be heard from up the stairs. You turned around and smiled brightly at the teenager.  “Sorrryyy.” You apologized as you patted the female’s head. Asui beamed slightly before jumping on her bed and opening Netflix.  “Wanna watch Stranger Things?” Asui suggested as she cocked her head and stared into your beautiful eyes.  “Obviously.” You rolled your eyes as Asui let out a small giggle.

[asianfighter]

Sooo I found another Lucci fan girl on Insta and subsequently remembered an AU I started. The premise is my OC, Tahlia, is the daughter of the man who runs the largest security firm in the world. Needless to say, threats are ever present and she goes through body guards like nothing. Enter the man who clawed his way up to the top of the chain.

This is a brain chills I’ve neglected but I will have to get back to soon. Read at your own discretion. It’s not blatantly explicit but it is definitely suggestive and borderline NSFW. If you’re not 18, keep scrolling. If you’re of age and you like Lucci, well, I hope you enjoy.

MORE THAN HUMAN TEASER: THE FIRST NIGHT

Rob Lucci’s footsteps were quiet, even on the antique wooden planks. Just as he had been commanded, he showered and even changed into a fresh suit. Roman Espinosa always expected his guards to be well dressed; he could only assume his daughter had similar expectations. Lucci could hear the faint sound of music seeping through the walls, sliding beneath the crack below the double doors. He gave a light knock.

“Come in,” Tahlia said from the other side. He turned the handle and slipped through, making sure to close the door just as silently as he had entered. She was freshly showered as well. Her straight hair was still slightly damp and she was dressed in a silky little gown, all black, with a low neckline and lots of lace.

“Hello, Lucci,” she said with a smile. “Lock the door, will you?”

He did as he was told and walked towards the table and chairs in the center of the room. Tahlia fussed with her phone and turned up the music, low quality hip hop beats accompanying an instrumental melody. Occasionally, audio bits of a female singing in French were thrown into the mix.

“Have a seat,” Tahlia told him. Lucci unbuttoned his blazer, this one black, and sat on one of the couches. In front of him, there was a small serving tray with a curvy glass of red wine and a straight little glass that held whiskey on the rocks.

Instead of sitting on the couch across from him, Tilly sat on the wooden table directly in front of him and crossed her legs. She handed him the whiskey before scooping up the glass of dark red liquid.

“Did you like my performance?” Tahlia asked with a smirk. “I know you heard most of it.” She took a slow sip, eyeing Lucci the entire time as if she could unnerve him. He didn’t blink. “Seems like I’m still stuck with you for now… but Daddy’s convinced all it will take to make me happy is a brand new building or two. For how sharp he is in business, he can be a very easy man to deceive.”

Lucci gave her an emotionless gaze and took a sip of the cool whiskey.

“He’s talked a lot about you,” she said, staring at him. “Nice to finally put a name to face.” Lucci withheld a comment about how incessantly Roman talked about her.

“The first time I had ever heard your name,” Tilly told him, “I was 10 years old. Daddy flew in just for my birthday party…” She looked down at her glass of wine. “...and all he could talk about was how successful Rob Lucci’s first field mission went.”

An amused smile played across her face. “I honestly thought you’d be older, considering your history. You’re only three years older than I am… but I suppose that’s why you were such a success. A killing machine at the age of 13. Quite a feat.”

Rob Lucci watched her face and slowly sipped on his drink. “Did you know they call you ‘Massacre Weapon’? Quite a heavy moniker, if you ask me.” Tahlia’s eyes turned downward as she sipped on her own drink. “From simple soldier to my sole security guard,” Tahlia said. “It’s quite a leap.”

Tahlia smiled coyly. The man simply gave her the same, stoic look during her monologue.

“To your promotion,” she said, “and new beginnings in a new city.” Tahlia held her drink up. They clinked glasses together. “By the way, you look dashing in white. I liked that suit much better than the black.”

Lucci nodded, taking a mental note, then took another sip as Tahlia sat back and swished her drink with one hand. He knew others found his gaze was unsettling… but there was something slightly unsettling about hers, too.

“Since you insist on playing silent, I’ll do the talking,” Tahlia said. She took a sip of wine, her lips slightly tinted red. I have big plans, Lucci. Big plans. The only thing is… I need someone I can trust… and some serious muscle to help see them through. If my intuition is correct, you might be able to wear both of those hats well.”

Lucci tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, silently prompting her to tell him more. He was slightly curious to know what her “big plans” entailed.

“I’m not a slave driver; I won’t force you to work for me. But if you do decide to stay, I will have plenty of opportunities for you to paint the town red. I think we could have a very mutually beneficial relationship. All I need you to do is what you do best. You get to have a little fun and I get… well, whatever I want.”

A dangerous look flashed in his eyes at the promise of “painting the town red.”

“Until now I’ve been given regular men. Lackluster soldiers with lackluster skills… but you’re different, I can tell.” She looked him over slowly, like she was trying to find the secret that made him special. “You are the last piece to my puzzle,” Tahlia told him. ”With you by my side, I will have everything I need. Together, we could sit back and watch the world burn. So what do you say?”

Very slowly, Rob Lucci gave the smallest of smirks, one corner of his mouth twisting upwards ever so slightly. His eyes were focused on hers, and try as she might to read his expression, Tahlia couldn’t quite decrypt what was running through his mind. She leaned forward and, with one finger, beckoned him to do the same.

“I know you can speak,” she said in his ear. “And I actually want to hear you say it. Are you in… or not?”

When he spoke, his voice was deep. Dangerous. Just as she had with him, he leaned in and spoke in her ear. This was her father’s house, after all. They could never be too cautious. Though there was no one else currently listening, he spoke in a low voice so that only Tahlia could hear him say, “I’m in.”

“Good. I was hoping you’d say that…” She gently placed her glass of wine back down. Tahlia leaned back on one arm and said, “...because I have a little test for you.”

Lucci placed down his own glass, mirrored her posture and leaned back as well. He rested one hand on the back rest of the couch.

“How far are you willing to go to prove your loyalty?” Tahlia asked him. Lucci’s brows pulled further down. Even rookies knew there was only one way out of Espinosa Inc. and it didn’t involve a 401k.

“I wonder,” Tahlia mused aloud, leaning forward and intruding upon his personal space, “if your loyalties lie with my father… or if they lie with me.” She searched his eyes but found no answer there. “I suppose it’s all the same,” she said quietly, “for now.”

She grinned and gave him an uneven smile that looked especially dangerous in the low lighting.

“Let’s see how well they trained you to listen,” Tahlia said. There was a dark mischief to her. Lucci simply looked back, stone faced. What could she possibly do to him that men hadn’t already done before? He had been shot, stabbed, beaten, burned… the more annoying methods of “pain resistance training” had included drowning simulations and extended immersion. Despite the large burns on his back, he much would have chosen fire over water torture any day.

Roman constantly bragged about how his girl was such a talented artist. Would she use one of the traditional methods or come up with something a little more creative?

In answer to his question, Tahlia leaned forward and slid onto the couch, her legs straddling Lucci’s waist. He leaned backwards at the sudden contact, the soft seat of the couch pushing against him. Tahlia placed her cheek against his and whispered, “I want you to sleep with me tonight.” Lucci’s posture stiffened as Tahlia loosened his tie and began to unbutton his shirt from the top down. “They didn’t cut out your tongue, after all. I’ll make sure it goes to good use.”

She used her left hand to continue unbuttoning while her right brushed against his face. She liked feeling the smooth of his cheek and the rough of his sideburns, his tidy beard. She could smell his mouth watering cologne. He had an ever present steel gaze that quietly drove her crazy. Tahlia leaned in to kiss him, and though his lips moved in sync with hers, he still had the same, cold expression when he opened up his eyes.

“They say you can’t feel pain…” Tahlia said, more to herself than him. His eyes were deep and dark, so brown that they looked completely black. They were eyes that held countless unspoken secrets. She pulled him towards her, slid her hands beneath his polo, helped slide his shirt and blazer off. Tilly squeezed his biceps (deliciously tattooed, she noticed, with a modern, minimal design on his shoulders) and massaged his strong forearms. She could hear him take a slow, steady inhale and a long, drawn out exhale.

Tahlia’s hands trailed down his arms and she placed both of his hands on her breasts. She pressed her hips into his and made slow, grinding movements. She could feel the bulge in his pants hardening. Tahlia moaned and nipped his ear. Lucci’s dark eyes flashed a dirty gold for just a fraction of a second but it went unnoticed. Tilly’s voice was a low, seductive purr as she said, “Let’s see if you still feel pleasure.”

—

Well if you like it, let me know! I have some scenes written that I’d love to share if there’s any interest!

[lovehugsandcandy]

kiss me heavy heavy ('cuz you know we ain’t done yet) (Colt x MC, RoD) 

A/N: Title (and more herein) is a riff from Here with Me by Elina. For Choices September Challenge, Day 27 (barely made it whew), and the prompt was Family.

Pairing: Colt x MC, references to past Logan x MC

Rating: R (swearing, injuries, suggestiveness, drinking in excess and being furiously hungover)

Length: ~13,000 words (way way way too long and I apologize)

Summary: Ellie and Colt’s family breaks apart; Ellie and Colt’s family comes together.

When Colt broke his arm, he was 7. He had figured out how to work the lift in the shop. He had figured out when everyone went to lunch. And he had figured out how to fly, how to leap from heights and love the weightlessness in his stomach as his legs kicked out into thin air. But he had not yet figured out how to climb a hydraulic lift. When he fell, instead of the graceful landing he was expecting, he slammed into the harsh concrete, nowhere near as forgiving as the clear water of the Pacific. He shattered his ulna but, even worse, it was the start of the arguments between his parents about his trips to the cliff with his dad. Those trips became less frequent, the screaming fights became more, and then they moved, far from the shop and the cliff and the concrete floor that earned him his first cast.

When Ellie broke her arm, she was 12. She was scared; she had never been in a car accident before and the shattering of glass and sudden sharp pain made her cry, heaping sobs that her mom wiped from her face with careful hands while the paramedics poked and prodded. She was even more scared after, when the trip to the hospital revealed something was seriously wrong with her mother, and terrified for the following year, until it was only her and her dad and his fear of the entire world.

When their daughter broke her arm, she had just turned 5 and it was the end of the end and the beginning of the beginning.

~~~~~

"Please, Logan. I wouldn't ask if it weren't important. "

She heard his heavy sigh over the phone. "I can move things around. I'll be there. But Ellie?"

"Yeah?"

Logan's cautious tone interrupted her internal fist bump. "Why is this so important?"

"Because...because Colt asked if he could bring someone."

"Ellie..."

"I just..." She dropped her eyes, darting through the crowd, phone pressed to her ear so hard she thought she was getting a headache. But maybe it was this whole situation making her jaw tense and temples throb. "I just....I don’t want to go alone while he’s there with a new girlfriend."

"There is no way in hell Colt has a girlfriend."

"He asked if we needed tickets for a freaking dance recital." She thought back to the awkward conversation, stilted and strange, when she was distracted in her kitchen and he was miles across town, always too far. 

“I thought we actually did need tickets?”

“Not because it’s gonna sell out!” Ellie had to stop talking with her hands, her flailing accidentally hitting the person next to her. She mouthed an apology to the dour woman to her left and walked faster. “Because it’s a money-making racket where they want you to pay for a ticket and the photos and a freaking video of the thing.”

“This is sounding less appealing by the second.”

"Logan, please? He said he wanted to bring someone and I don’t think I can-” She bit her lip, thinking. It had taken them an excruciatingly long two years to get to this point. After the furious phone call and months of silence, it had taken Colt almost a year to thaw, to actually interact with her beyond the scheduling and logistical communication required in co-parenting their daughter, and then months after that to actually stop speaking in clipped words and bitter tones. Slowly, so slowly, they made their way back to something that flowed and worked but, sometimes, when the three of them grabbed dinner or when she caught his eye at a school event, sometimes she thought they were edging their way to something more, to something old, to something that felt like the last two years had been a nightmare that Ellie was ready to wake up from. His new girlfriend definitely proved that those hopes were all in Ellie’s imagination. “I don’t think I can do it alone."

"Maybe it's his mom."

"She’s still at that conference in Miami." So what if she cut Colt off before he could even explain? She couldn't reasonably expect to sit there while Colt was asking if his new girl could attend their daughter's dance recital. Urgh. That asshole. “Oh my God. Do you think he’s gonna bring her to Kira’s birthday party too?” 

“Ellie, he has the personality of a sociopath and the social ability of a troll. He's single.”

Ellie had to smile. Logan had always been in her corner. While Ximena, Toby, and Mona had their loyalties tested in the breakup, Logan had always had her back. He was her rock and, for a while, they tried to be more, when Colt was gone and Ellie was miserable and terrified and needed someone, but it had never quite worked out. Thankfully, they had managed to to remain thick as the thieves they used to be. "He’s also the father of my child, Logan.”

"And I'm so glad she takes after you."

"Ha ha.” Kira definitely took after her in a lot of ways; like Ellie, she worked hard and had an innate kindness about her that made care for her classmates and call her grandfather every night. But she also had a stubborn streak, an insistence on getting her way that was reminiscent of Colt, along with the smart mouth and an innate confidence that could only be from her father. She even looked like Colt, all thick black hair and deep brown eyes and constantly smirking lips. “Ok, Logan, I'm back at work."

"Alright, fine, see you Saturday?"

"Of course. And thank you, Logan."

Ellie hung up the phone and strode through the lobby, flashing her badge and giving a wave to the receptionist before taking the elevator to her desk and slinking into her seat. She had a major presentation next week, in front of the CEO of the entire company, and she was panicking. As she logged into her computer, she knew she had no time to worry about her ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend and her broken family and a dance recital that she was decidedly not looking forward to; she had work to do.

~~~~~

Before (before, in the very beginning, when things were amazing...)

Ellie rubbed her growing stomach with one hand and bit at the fingernails of her other hand, considering. It wasn't that Ellie was worried, per se; Colt loved her with a single minded devotion that took her breath away, an intensity that made her weak in the best of moments and absolutely destroyed in the worst.

It's just that he wouldn't put down his phone, eyes on the screen at every spare moment. She didn't think he was cheating on her; with the crew and the shop, he lacked the free time needed for an illicit affair. But she just didn't know what else it could be.

And when she asked what he was doing, he would slide his phone away, almost bashful, revealing nothing. It piqued her curiosity and she couldn't, wouldn't leave it alone.

This time, when he threw his phone on the bed and left the room to take a shower, this time, she resolved to find out. She waited until she heard the water running and then reached for it, getting through the lock screen immediately. (Eight numeric digits? Easy. She only needed one guess.)

She looked through the messages (unsurprisingly, mostly to her), the calls (again, mostly her, though the pizza place by the shop was a close second), and finally hit pay dirt when she opened the browser, multiple tabs calling for her attention.

The first looked like a textbook, long words and citations everywhere; it wasn’t until she saw the first image, a chart with weeks and produce arranged in a confusing display, that she realized what it was. A baby book? 

The second tab was similarly confusing. ‘Abigail, Amelia, Audrey...’ It, again, took her a minute to realize that it was a list baby names in alphabetical order. She blinked, barely hearing the water turn off.

Her mouth was open when he walked in the room. “Colt?”

“Yeah?”

“Is this...” Her voice caught. “Are you reading a baby book on your phone?”

“Uhhh....yeah?” He ran a towel through his hair and shrugged. 

“And baby names?”

“Yeah?”

“I...” She blinked up at him, watching a water droplet slide down the side of his face. “I didn’t know that.”

"Well, I don’t have much experience with kids, you know. I don’t want to fuck it up."

She could feel tears starting to form, her happiness emerging as water from her eyes. Damn hormones. "Colt...." She pulled him to sit on the bed next to her. "You are gonna be a great dad. Really."

He just looked at her, taking in the weepy eyes and the pouting frown, and pulled her into a hug, grazing soft kisses across her brow. “I...I don’t wanna be my dad.”

“You won’t. Oh my God, Colt, you won’t.” She knew how worried he was about this, how the torn relationship with his father was never truly repaired before Kaneko’s fiery death. But she wasn’t worried, confident in every way that Colt would rise to the challenge, like he did in every other aspect of their life. She pulled him closer for a lingering kiss, trying to transmit some of her confidence through her lips; he deepened the kiss, hand falling to her waist to thumb the soft skin there, a moan catching in his throat.

He pulled back to curve careful fingers around her face. "I wish you had the baby already."

"Why?" She put her hand over her stomach, still insecure about the curve forming, unfamiliar and new and alien to her.

He slid his hands over hers, then up, further, teasing the soft skin underneath her breasts. "Cuz I'd give you another baby right now."

"Some if the stuff you say is not sexy." Still, she shivered and his hands slid higher.

"Then why are you taking my clothes off right now?" She looked down to where her hands were clutched in his t-shirt, moving of their own accord to get closer to the skin and muscle underneath.

She opened her mouth and closed it again. "You're damn lucky you're cute "

His eyes softened. "I'm just damn lucky."

~~~~~

Now (when things aren’t great but things are fine and things aren’t good but time flies on...)

The conversation with Logan was still fresh in her mind, even over a few days of life and logistics and thinking thinking thinking, when she slid into the chair with a sigh. “Riya, I am tired.” The large coffee cup in a death grip in her hand was proof of that. She had been busy, working as much as she could in order to make sure the most important meeting of her career would go off without a hitch. Thankfully, she and Colt had a fixed schedule, so she could work late some evenings while Colt had Kira and Ellie tried to put her fractured family in the back of her mind. “I have been working 24/7 and have to go to this stupid recital tomorrow where my stupid ex will bring his stupid new girlfriend and I just want a nap.”

Riya only laughed. “I can tell.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to vent as soon as I sat down. How are you?”

“I’m good!” Riya smoothed down her shirt and leaned forward conspiratorially. “But, you know, I would say that being so miffed about Colt’s date is a sign that-”

Ellie’s hand moved fast to whack Riya, a loving slap against her arm. “Stop it. I don’t want to hear it from you.”

“Ok, but I am just saying that, if you were as over him as you swore you were, you wouldn’t care if-”

“Riya!”

“Fine, fine, fine. In other news, I’m excited for the birthday party!”

“Urgh, I can’t believe it’s next weekend. You’re coming, right?”

“You know it. You wanted me to bring an appetizer?”

“That would be amazing.” Ellie sighed as the warm coffee hit her tongue, making its way down her throat. “You are a godsend, you know that?”

“I know, but it doesn’t hurt to hear you say it.” Riya flashed a smile but it fell as she glanced behind Ellie.

“What? What is it?”

Riya’s eyes widened. “Ummm....speaking of your ex...”

Ellie sucked in a breath; she knew it was a possibility, knew it was a risk coming here since the garage was so close to Riya’s work, but it was her turn to make the trek across town. They hadn’t spoken since he asked about the recital, their only communication being quick text messages, all functional, logistical, formal. 

“And it looks like he’s here with someone,” Riya continued.

Ellie was unable to stop the chair from spinning, turning to catch a glimpse. It was Colt, leather jacket and all, looking uncomfortable, hands stuffed in his pockets. And he was here with someone, tiny brunette next to him talking up a storm as they waited in line.

“She looks like a freaking teenager.” Ellie spun back in her seat to drop her cup on the table.

Even Riya looked incredulous. “Is he on a date?” 

Ellie’s breath caught as she turned again to watch them. The girl was pretty, hands flying around as she barely stopped to breathe, clearly and emphatically in the middle of some epic tale.

“Oh, I’m gonna find out.” Ellie stood and, taking a deep breath to center herself, strode over to the pair. The girl saw her first, glancing around in confusion; she looked younger than Ellie originally thought and the flash of red lipstick did nothing to age her. “Hi, Colt.”

He turned, eyes widening before quickly schooling his expression to neutral. “Hi, Ellie.”

“So....what are you doing here?”

He raised an eyebrow before tilting his head towards the front of the shop. “Getting coffee?” 

“Yeah...” She tried to shoot a significant look at the girl, but Colt ignored it. “That is what one does here. I’m here with Riya.”

Colt looked back and gave her best friend a small wave, hands settling back in his pockets as he studied Ellie. “Ok...”

She waited, but no introduction was forthcoming. Well then. “Who’s your friend?”

He blinked. “Ellie, this is Sam. Sam, this is Ellie. Kira’s mom.”

“Oh my God, Kiki?!? She is so adorable!” Ellie froze, staring at the girl. Apparently, Sam had met Kira and apparently, Sam knew her well enough to call her by her nickname.

“Ah, thank you.” She tried to get her bearings back and failed, just staring at her, taking in the hair that flew about her face as she spoke, the innocence shining in her eyes. She reminded Ellie a little of herself, once upon a time, and the thought made something twist deep in her heart.

“We were making origami flowers together the other day and she said that she was the flower princess but then she tried to put the flowers in a muffler so then we had to get pizza and Kira doesn’t like pepperoni so-”

Ellie blinked, dumbfounded. Who in the world-?

“Next!”

And, thankfully, the story was interrupted by the barista, calling for the pair to step forward.

“Ok...” Ellie looked between the two, jaw dropped. “Well, so nice to meet you. Colt, I’ll see you at the recital tomorrow, right?”

“Yep.”

Ellie slunk back to the table and dropped into her seat. “That was a fail.”

“What happened? Who is she?”

“Her name is Sam.”

“And?”

Ellie sighed, heavy through her nose. “Dunno but she’s met Kira.”

“Whoa.” Riya’s eyes widened. She knew what a big deal that was. Colt still hated all people outside of a core, select group of people that Ellie had once been a part of, as tightly encased there as she had been in his arms. So for someone new to be introduced to his daughter? Ellie hazarded a glace behind her, where Colt was paying for both of their drinks.

“Yeah.”

“You think she’s the girl he’s bringing to the recital?”

Ellie put her head in her hands. “I don’t know.”

The answer to that question came far too quickly for Ellie’s liking. The next day she found herself fidgeting in the cheap cramped seats of a local auditorium, toes tapping a quick beat on the floor of the auditorium as her whole leg jiggled.

“Why are you so nervous? And when does this start?” Logan shifted next to her, trying to move away from the elderly woman on his left who kept glancing over as if she were going to try and pinch his cheek. “This is awful.”

“I know. Thank you for coming.” Ellie knew how atrocious this was. And Logan wasn’t even the one who had to slick Kira’s wild hair into a semblance of a braid. “It should start soon.”

Movement to her right made her look up, relief painting her face as Colt squeezed through the row. And behind him?

“Hi, sweetie!” Ximena pushed Colt to the side to pull Ellie into a huge hug. “Thanks for letting me come! I’m so excited to see Kira dance.”

Elllie let out the breath lodged behind her collarbone. “Ximena! X, I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Of course, wouldn’t miss it! Hi, Logan!”

Colt’s face hardened, eyes glowering as he stared Logan down, barely giving him a nod before plopping into the seat next to Ellie. “When’s her first dance?” Colt and Logan had never had the best relationship but, since Colt was back, she felt like she was in the middle of a war zone and one wrong move would detonate a grenade.

“Fourth one.” Ellie said and fished out the program from under her chair. “First the teachers, then the actual dancers, some older kids, then her class.”

He nodded, staring straight ahead at the empty stage. “Why’s Logan here?”

Her stomach dropped. It seemed silly now. “He wanted to see Kira dance. Why’s X here?” The lights flickered above them, signalling that the show was going to start, the shadows flickering over his scowl.

“Same reason.” He crossed his hands over his chest with a huff; it looked like he wanted to say more but bit his tongue. Ellie studied him out of the corner of her eye. “How long is this going to be?”

She rolled her eyes. “Buckle up cuz you’re here for hours.”

“Are we going out after this?”

“Kira said she wanted to get ice cream at the beach.”

“Does he have to come?”

Ellie’s elbow shot out before she could stop it. “Come on.” 

“Shhh!” The woman behind them leaned forward in her seat as the tinny tinkle of piano started from the speakers. “It’s starting.”

Ellie grinned apologetically, Colt just huffed and sank lower in his seat. “God forbid we miss a moment.”

“Oh my God, stop.” She elbowed him again but, based on the laughter in her voice, she didn’t think it carried the right effect. 

And based by the smile she got in return, she knew he was emboldened. “What? You don’t want to miss-” He glanced at the stage and snatched the program from her, sighing. “Whatever the hell this purple monstrosity is?”

“Oh come on, you know you’re going to watch Kira when she comes out.”

“And sleep until that happens?”

“Going for Best Father Ever, here?”

He knocked into her shoulder; he didn’t need to move far, tiny seats pressing the audience into close quarters. “I already have a cup that says that, thank you very much.”

“Umm, hello? Kira made it before she could spell and it actually says Best Farter Ever.”

“And I will treasure it for the rest of my life.”

She laughed and then remembered where she was, shrinking into her seat. “If you get me kicked out...”

“Oh, because I’m always the one dragging you into trouble?”

“Umm...yes?”

“Fine. Yes.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “But you get into enough trouble on your own, thank you very much.”

“I plead the fifth.” 

She leaned against him as he looked back at the stage. “Are those kids dressed up as sunflowers? What the hell is happening?”

“Colt!” She elbowed him in the side, again, digging in further, casting a careful glance behind them. “We cannot get kicked out of a dance recital.”

“You say it like this would be the worst place I’ve been kicked out of.”

She leaned against the arm rest to glare at him and his answering smirk back made her pause, quirk of his lip making her realize how close they were, squeezed into the audience, fake velour under her fingers the only thing that separated them. She leaned closer.

Her heart stopped as Colt’s hand dropped, almost as if her were going to clasp her palm in his, almost as if he forgot that wasn’t a thing they did anymore. Her breath caught. They were so close to touching, inches, when she could see the look on his face change, when he remembered, when he realized that he couldn’t, shouldn’t.

And the moment was over. He ran his hand through his hair. Ellie turned away, leaning back in her chair and staring at the dancing sunflowers on stage. She could feel the electricity underneath her skin, a counterpoint to the voice in her brain telling her this was a bad idea.

Ellie focused on watching every single dance and staying on her side of the fabric barrier between them.

~~~~~

Before (when things actually couldn’t get better so they had to get worse...)

Kira was screeching, counting numbers in some semblance of order (she would proudly proclaim that she was almost three to anyone who walked by but still thought eighteen came after ten). Ellie shook her head and walked into the bedroom, pulling open the drawer of her bedside table.

Who even used checks nowadays? Urgh. She had no idea where her checkbook was, but it definitely wasn’t there. She rolled her eyes, annoyed, and it was just then that she noticed her bed was vibrating. Well, more specifically, her comforter was vibrating, likely because of the person-shaped lump underneath it that was barely holding it together.

Ellie blinked and carefully lifted up a corner. “Colt?”

“Shhh!” He was beaming, smiling up at her in mirth, eyes shining.

“What are you doing?”

“Kicking ass at hide and seek?”

“Oh my God.”

“And I can try to sneak in a nap at the same time. Brilliant.” He had been working a ton recently, coming home dead on his feet after long days, but this was a little extreme.

“Daddy?” Kira’s quizzical cry came from the hallway.

“Shh!” Colt grabbed Ellie’s wrist and pulled, dragging her onto the bed. “She’ll hear you!”

“Jesus!” Ellie was shrouded into darkness as Colt pulled the comforter over her, pulling her close and effectively hiding them both. It was warm, underneath the down, encased in his arms; she could feel her body heating up in multiple ways as he pulled her closer.

“Hmm....” She could hear his voice coming from somewhere below her right ear and, before she knew it, his lips were teasing the sensitive skin behind her earlobe, open-mouthed kisses sliding lower. “I can think of something else this hiding spot is good for.”

“Oh my God, Colt!”

“Daddy?!?!” The shout was in the room now and Colt’s laugh was huffed against her. Ellie tried not to squirm but his hands around her waist and lips brushing against her neck made it a challenge.

Little hands threw the comforter on the floor. “I found you!”

“You did!” 

Kira squealed as her dad grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into bed with them, tickling her sides as she laughed and laughed and laughed and Ellie thought that she had never, in her entire life, been happier than she was at this moment, watching Kira struggle to breathe through her laughter, watching the worry lines on Colt’s brow fade to joy. She felt content. She felt whole.

“Alright, Kiki. I’m gonna find you now!” Colt clambered up, lifting Kira high over his head. “You better find a good spot.”

Their giggled echoed down the hall as Ellie lay, smiling, basking in the moment. What had she been doing? Oh yeah, the checkbook.

It hadn’t been in her bedside table; maybe it had wound up in Colt’s?

She pushed herself out of bed and wandered over, pulling the drawer open and feeling around. She didn’t see the checkbook immediately but paused when her fingers hit something soft. It felt like fur, maybe velvet, and she pulled it out to see.

And froze.

She checked the doorway to make sure she was alone and sank onto the bed, clutching the ring box in one trembling hand. One last look out the doorway, double-checking, triple-checking, and she opened it, millimeter by incremental millimeter; when she saw the gleam of a diamond, she gasped, shutting the box and throwing it back in the drawer.

They hadn’t really talked about it; she knew Colt was as devoted to her as she was to him but, with Kira and two demanding jobs between them, she never really paid attention to the legal status of their relationship. But, judging by the ring hiding in the back of his bedside table, he had. 

Holy shit.

Ellie couldn’t hold back the smile splitting her face. Her answer was never in doubt.

~~~~~

Now (when things aren’t so sure and things aren’t so good, and it’s still the beginning now...)

“What do you mean you were called in to work?”

“I’m sorry, Ellie.” She could tell that her dad felt bad, both that he was bailing on her and that he wouldn’t see Kira tonight. “It was a last minute thing since Silver got injured yesterday.”

“I understand.” She peered through the glass door into the hallway; it was empty, bright corporate signage taunting her as her mind raced. At least the CEO hadn’t arrived yet and she still had some time to come up with a backup plan. “I’m sure I can figure something out. Someone will be able to watch her.”

“I’m really sorry, kiddo.”

She frantically looked through her phone book as she paced in the conference room, fingers stabbing the digits to try to get to her friends. Riya had tickets to the Lakers game. Logan had to work late in exchange for getting Saturday off.

Ellie took a deep breath as she clicked on her last hope; she had one more person to try. Things had been fine at the recital and he didn’t mention any plans-hopefully, he was free.

“Hey, Ellie.”

It was loud on the shop floor, shouts and banging filtering through the line. “Hi, Colt. Are you busy tonight?” She could hear him step away from the ruckus and into the office; when he shut the door, it was blessedly quiet.

“What’d you say?”

“Are you busy tonight? I’m desperate.”

“Umm...”

“I have a huge work meeting tonight and my dad can’t watch Kira anymore. Are you free? Can you pick her up from school and stay until I get there?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh my God, thank you, thank you, thank you, you have no id-”

“Ellie, it’s fine. Jeez, she’s my daughter; I want to see her. Do you want me to have her sleep here and I can just drop her at school tomorrow?”

“No, I shouldn't be that late. Just bring her to my place.”

“Ok.”

She took a deep breath as she hung up the phone. It would be fine. She wasn’t going to be that late. 

...Except she was.

The meeting went well. Amazingly well. Astoundingly well. So well, in fact, that  she and her team had headed out to their local bar to celebrate for just one drink.

That had turned into two drinks.

That had turned into more, so many more that she couldn’t drive home and could only cling onto the bar when her legs stopped working as she chatted and laughed and reveled in a job well done.

But now it was late and Kira was probably in bed and she couldn’t get her damn key into the lock because the doorknob wouldn’t stop moving. She took a deep breath and rested her forearm on the door frame, stable enough to slow the spinning, if only for a moment, so she could slide the key in the lock and yank the door open and stumbling her way into the house, cursing how easy martinis went down and time flew by.

At least she had the peace of mind to throw her shoes off, to try to dull her footsteps as she stumbled in, feeling her way around the furniture to hit the lights.

“Colt?” She tried to whisper but she wasn’t sure she succeeded, voice echoing around her.

No answer.

“Colt?” She edged her way into her living room and stopped short, barely managing to stay upright before crashing to the floor. He was asleep on the couch, long legs dangling over the side, rise and fall of his chest visible under the wrinkled tee, hitched up so she could see the cut of his abs, treasure trail a tease that disappeared under the button of his jeans. He looked soft, vulnerable, and she could feel her breath catch. It was too intimate, watching him sleep on the couch that used to be his, in the house they used to share, with the daughter they made and raised just down the hall. It was too dangerous, seeing him this soft, as soft as he was in her memories, memories of a better time when her family was whole and she didn’t sleep alone.

And do a lot more than sleep in that bed. Because even in her drunken state, she could vividly recall what was under those jeans.

She watched him for a minute, taking in the long lines of muscles, the flawless eyebrows, the line of his jaw. “Colt?”

He started, turning to her as his eyes flickered open and fell on her. “Hey. How was your work thing?”

“Good. Sorry I was so late.”

“No worries.” He sat up, yawning.

“How was Kira?”

He blinked up at her, slowly, hair mussed into the bedhead that was all too familiar and that she wished she had forgotten. “Good. We went to the butterfly exhibit at the zoo.”

She could just picture them, hand-in-hand, looking at butterflies and stopping for ice cream before they left. It was the life she had and wanted and lost. She opened her mouth to speak but instead, she hiccuped. Loudly. And did it again, alcohol turning warm in her stomach, heating up the blood flowing throughout her body, setting fire to her face as she blushed.

“Let me...” Colt stood, staring at her uncertainly. “Let me get you some water.”

She nodded, following him into the kitchen, watching as he filled a glass and handed it to her. “Did your-hic-did your girlfriend go?”

He paused, eyes cutting to her. “Huh?” He handed over the glass and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Did your girlfriend go?”

“What girlfriend? And go where?”

Ellie’s hands flailed and she grimaced as the water sloshed onto the floor. “The girl. Your girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“But...” She narrowed her eyes at him, sipping the water. “Can you stop moving around? You’re all floaty.”

“You’re all drunk. You should go to bed.”

“No! I’m-” She swayed and had to put the glass down, heavy hand clasping the counter for support. “I might be drunk.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, eyes almost fond. “I should go home.”

“I thought you were gonna bring her to the recital.”

“Bring who to the recital?”

“Your girlfriend, Colt, keep up.”

He opened and closed his mouth. “I don’t have a girlfriend, Ellie. I think you should-”

“If you don’t have a girlfriend, I think you should kiss me.” If she had any coordination left, she would have slapped her hand in front of her mouth as penance for speaking before thinking. However, as it was, she needed to hold on the counter so she wouldn’t slink onto the floor; with no extra hands, she bit her lip and flushed, face and body heating up in shame.

He gaped and ran a hand through his hair, rocking back on his heels. “Ellie, you’re drunk. And you have a boyfriend. We’re not gonna-”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“But you do. I mean, you have since I got out.” His eyes narrowed. Ellie wanted to smooth the lines from his forehead. Hell, in her drunken state, she wanted to do a lot more.

“What? I don’t, I haven’t, not in a looong time.”

He stared, for so long she almost considered letting go of her iron grip on the counter to walk towards him, but wasn’t sure that she would make it without falling to the ground. Finally, he spoke. “It doesn’t matter. You’re drunk.”

“I’m not.” She was starting to get offended by the aspersions against her sobriety, but she didn’t know which of the three Colts in front of her she should complain to.

“You are.”

“Would you if I were sober?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Would you kiss me if I were sober?” She was acutely aware of the distance between them- five feet, ten tiles, four steps, none of which she was currently capable of taking. She could feel the distance weighing heavy on her skin as she blinked at him.

“Ellie...” He walked forward, cautious and slow: three feet, two of his steps, and she felt braver. 

“I think you would. I think you should.”

His eyes trailed down her face.

“I think you should kiss me now.”

“You’re drunk.” It was a whisper, a breath, but loud enough to rocket through the static in Ellie’s brain as he stepped forward again.

“But if I were sober?”

He was so close that she could follow the path of his eyes, locking with hers, then down, glancing at the mole on her cheek, the freckle on her chin, before ending the circuitous gaze at her lips.

“If I were sober, would you kiss me?”

“If you were sober, I would carry you back to your bedroom and show you what you've been missing for the last two years.”

She blinked once and, when her brain caught up to his words, her hands leapt of their own accord, grabbing his t-shirt and pulling, pulling him closer so his chest met hers and their legs were tangled and none of that mattered because they were kissing, finally kissing, after two years apart, after missed connections and miscommunications and none of that mattered when he backed her into the counter, hands on her hips, mouth never leaving hers.

Heat immediately flashed through her body; was it the kiss? The booze? The fact that it had been two years? 

The world spun as strong hands under her thighs lifted her; suddenly, she was perched on the counter. He was slotted in between her legs, mouth dropping to her neck, to the spot behind her ear. She couldn’t think, couldn’t control herself, legs wrapping around him to pull, closer, please, closer. She moaned as his lips moved to up her chin, stubble scraping her jawline, warm friction the most welcome sensation in the world; she wanted to feel the rough scratch all over her. She let out a shuddery exhale, barely formed into his name, pulling at his shirt. His hands slid up her thigh and they were scorching hot, fingers ten lines of fire skating up her already overheating body, underneath her dress, higher still as she though she was going to burst into flames, burn up from the inside and explode. She was spinning when she closed her eyes, spinning when she opened them, the world moving as her head dropped back against the cabinet.

He was going to light her on fire and all she wanted to do was burn.

“Ellie-” His lips had somehow found her ear. It was so hot, so warm in this room, in this skin. The room wouldn’t stop moving. “Ellie, I-”

She grabbed at the edge of the counter, trying to make everything still. It was all spinning, her familiar kitchen curving around her. It must be the heat. It couldn’t be good to be this hot. 

He pulled back, only a blurry shape between the spots in her vision. “Ellie?”

She blinked.

Time was starting to bend, sway, change; she could have sworn that he had been right in front of her, hands and lips and taut muscles and stubbled jaw so close she swore they had been touching, but now, suddenly, he was across the room, feet away, eyes unreadable.

The lights in her kitchen were shifting too, spots of color flaring at the edges of her vision, warping and changing and disappearing when she tried to focus.

She blinked.

And he was in front of her again, hands on her waist to lift her onto the floor, smoothing down the lines of her dress, a dress that was not so professional, not anymore, not when it had made its way up her thighs to make room for strong, clever fingers dragging paths of fire along her skin.

The room was shifting too, floor moving, swaying, walls in funhouse patterns around her. She grasped the counter behind her, wrapped Colt’s t-shirt in her other hand, struggling to stay upright with the tilting of the room.

She blinked.

And Kira was there, talking, words coming too fast for her tired brain to understand, Colt filling a plastic unicorn glass with water as the spots of light grew in her eyes.

She blinked.

And the spots of light were a blaze. She opened her eyes to light, bright light, everywhere, and a pounding in her head that spread throughout her body with every throb, the roar of her heartbeat making her wince as it joined the jack-hammering in her brain. She squinted and managed to make out familiar walls, her desk, the large window that was allowing the painful sunshine to pour into the room. She was in her bedroom, somehow, feeling like hell. Everything hurt, she couldn’t think through the construction in her brain, and her mouth was dry and tasted like bad decisions. Crap. She knew these signs. She was hungover.

From the living room, she could hear the soft patter of tiny feet and muffled giggles. Double crap. Kira was up, which meant she needed to fight through the wreckage and somehow pull it together. She rolled over to grab a pillow to throw over her aching eyes and, while she thankfully caught the scream before it left her throat, she couldn’t stop the gasp.

She wasn’t alone in bed. She could see a hint of dark hair, a defined bicep muscle and strong shoulder completely out of place on her sheets. She hazarded a look down and winced. She was naked.

Oh my God.

“Stop freaking out, nothing happened.” Oh, thank goodness, it was Colt. Granted, not great, but, if she was going to wake up in a questionable position next to someone, he was definitely the best of some bad alternatives. “I’ll get her.” The sun slammed pinpoints of pain through her eyes as she watched him clamber out of bed, throwing on clothes.

“If nothing happened, why am I naked?” Triple crap. She was barely able to speak, hoarse voice fighting through chapped lips.

“Because you don’t listen to reason when you’re drunk?” He shrugged on a shirt and she watched the cut of muscles in his back move as he dragged his arms into the sleeves.

She licked her lips and even that small movement hurt. “Why are you here?”

“Because I didn’t think you would be able to function today.” He looked over his shoulder, eyes taking in her supine form, huffing out a sigh. “I wasn’t wrong.”

He wasn’t wrong. She felt like death, eyes falling closed as he left the room.

And eyes shooting open as she remembered.

She didn’t remember everything, had a sense that the night faded from her mind as the hours crept by, but she definitely remembered balancing on the counter as her hands slid though the short hairs at the back of his head and his hands slid up her bare legs. She definitely remembered words and kisses that took her breath away and she remembered leaning back against the counter, warm and pliant, held captive by his hands and his lips and the sparks settling in the base of her stomach. She lifted a shaky hand to her jaw; the skin there was still sensitive, the line of his stubble leaving a flush trail that tingled as her hand gently probed her chin.

Colt said nothing happened.

She wouldn’t call these memories ‘nothing.’

Fuck.

Her mind raced. She tried to think through the noise in her brain but was coming up short, memories refusing to return from whatever mental place the alcohol buried them in. She remembered the work meeting, the bar, coming home; she remembered them kissing, could still feel it in her toes. But then? Nothing. 

Urgh.

She was never drinking again.

If she listened closely, focusing on the world outside the pain, she could hear Kira and Colt in the kitchen.

“Daddy! You wore those clothes yesterday.”

“Seriously?” He coughed, awkwardly bumbling before he could respond. “You’re wearing a tutu and dinosaur rain boots while carrying a plastic sword and you want to talk about my outfit?”

“I’m a ballerina dinosaur hunter, daddy! Can I have toast?”

She pushed herself to a sitting position, waiting until the room stopped spinning, and then pushed to a stand, waiting until the floor stopped lurching. She had just managed to throw on some sweats when the door opened again, Colt ducking in with a glass of water and a couple painkillers.

“You said nothing happened.” She tried to glare at him but it hurt her eyes

He blinked. “Nothing happened, Ellie. I know you woke up naked but I swear to God we didn’t-”

“We kissed.” She snatched the pills from his hand, throwing them in her mouth. He handed over the water glass and looked away from her, guilty as hell.

“Yeah. We kissed. That’s it.”

“That’s not noth-”

“I know that.” He looked intently at her, voice dropping to a pained whisper, glancing behind him to where Kira was humming, still out of sight in the kitchen. “I know that. But I meant that we didn’t have sex. Because that didn’t happen.”

She looked at him uncertainly. “What did happen last night?”

“You came home drunk. You asked about Kira. We talked.” He bit his lip and sighed. “We kissed in the kitchen. Kira got up for water and I put you to bed. That was it.”

“Why was I naked?”

“That was all you. You said that you were too hot for clothes.”

“Why didn’t you sleep on the couch?”

“I tried!” He gaped at her. “You said, and I quote, ‘you saw me give birth, Colt, I think we can share a bed.’“

She put her head in her hands, both to cover her blush and to try and quiet the pounding in her head. She was never drinking again.

“Hey.” He touched her arm. “Hey. It’s fine. You go back to bed. I’ll bring her to school.”

She let her hands fall, flashing him a grateful smile. He turned to go but her hand shot out to grab his forearm, skin soft underneath her fingertips. “Thank you.” She tried to ensure her tone conveyed some of the gravity she felt but it sounded more like a croak from a ruined throat.

However, as he gazed back at her, not removing his arm from her grasp, she thought he understood.

~~~~~

Before (when shit comes heavy heavy, storm’s right here, let it in) 

Cake? Check.

Decorations? Check.

People? Check. Obviously, Kira was here. Of course, she didn’t exactly have a choice and was currently sitting on her grandfather’s lap, throwing her hands in the air with a delighted squeal at every bounce of his knees. Riya and Darius were in the corner, pouring over the piles of presents, while Logan, Ximena, and Toby had already started diving into the pizza.

Everything was perfect for Kira’s third birthday and, as soon as Colt got home from work, they were going to have cake.

But he was scheduled to arrive over an hour ago and she hadn’t heard a word. She was just about to light the candles without him when her phone rang.

“Mona? Where are you?” Her brow furrowed. Not exactly who she had been anticipating calling her but...

“I have some bad news.”

Ellie felt her stomach drop. “What?”

“Colt got picked up. We think they’re gonna hold him without bail but we’re not sure until the arraignment.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m sorry, Ellie. He said to tell you that he’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Hold up. What?” 

Mona’s voice was uncertain as Ellie reached around, blindly, hand finally grasping a chair and sitting. “It’s gonna be ok. I promise. He’ll call tomorrow.”

Ellie blinked at the phone, staring dumbly until Riya walked into the kitchen. She was barely able to get the story out, shock and distress clouding her mind as Riya held her close and rubbed her back until the tears had dried and Ellie could fake it enough to stand and smile and not scream.

She was numb, completely numb, going through the motions, the candles, the cake, the smiles. She was lost, fear and anger and shame roiling in her stomach. 

And, the worst, the absolute worst of it was that, with every picture that was taken, she felt his absence stab her through the heart, knowing that they were documenting an empty space as they documented Kira’s third birthday. She couldn’t stand it and had to excuse herself so only the bathroom mirror would see her tears.

He did call the next day, when the presents had all been opened, when the cake had all been eaten, when the decorations had all been put away, and when the shock had faded and been replaced with blinding anger.

“Ellie. Baby.”

“I am going kill you.” She ducked into her bedroom, voice packing as much fury as she could into a whisper; regardless of how angry she was, she couldn’t wake Kira up.

“It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Don’t even, asshole.”

“Baby...” Colt sighed, pleading. “I’m so sorry but don’t worry, the charges won’t stick and I should be out soon and-”

“Don’t worry? Don’t worry?!?” She could feel the angry tears start to cloud her vision. She closed her eyes but could only see red. “You missed her birthday.”

She could hear noise behind him and a rustle, voice louder as he pulled the phone closer. “I know... Ellie....”

“Don’t ‘Ellie’ me. What the hell did you do?”

“It’s a really long story and I can’t really talk about it here.”

“For fuck’s sake, Colt! I can’t believe you!” She blinked furiously, trying to keep the tears from falling. “I thought we were done with this shit, I thought your family was more-”

“But Ellie-”

“Don’t ‘’but Ellie’ me!”

His sigh was heavy. “I’m sorry but I promise-”

“No, you listen to me! I can’t believe you! Listen to your stupid excuses and stupid promises. You know what? You’re exactly like your dad.”

The intake of his breath was sharp on the phone line. “Ellie-”

“You said you weren’t your dad and look at you now,” she spit venom out over the line. “What if you don’t get out?”

“I will.” His harsh whisper was certain. “I will, give it some time and-” 

“No.” The tears were burning on her cheeks. “I’m not going to be waiting here for you. I’m done.”

His voice was pained. “You don’t mean th-”

“I’m done, Colt. Done. I can’t have my daughter around this. I can’t be around this.” She sunk onto the bed, weak legs no longer able to hold her up. “Don’t contact me. Really. Don’t call. Don’t write. If you ever get out, then maybe you can see your daughter. Until then, goodbye.”

“Ellie, wai-”

The silence on the line finally and completely broke her heart. She allowed herself five minutes, five minutes of hysterical, cathartic tears, then trudged back into the kitchen to make lunches for tomorrow. 

Colt or no Colt, she had shit to take care of.

~~~~~

Now (things are getting better so keep it steady steady...)

The birthday party was in full swing, Kira laughing and spinning in her princess gown, clad in a giant party hat with a bright pink five right in the center, when Ellie ducked into the kitchen to find Colt hunched over the counter. His body was angled just so she couldn’t see what he was looking at. Suspicious.

“What are you-?” She peered over, just enough to see the plate in front of him. “Are you sneaking cookies?”

He turned, eyes crinkling with mirth, boyish smile gracing his face. He looked young, innocent, presiding over his hoard with a smudge of chocolate on his top lip. “Shhh....she’s gonna hear you!”

“Thief! You goddamn thief! Give me one!” She stepped closer, hand out.

“No way! These are mine!” His eyes sparkled and, at moments like these, Ellie had to remind herself that they were over, that they weren’t together, that it was a distant history, her distant past.

“I’m so gonna tell Kira you broke into her stash.”

“My stash now.” 

“Just give me-” She reached over, trying to get at the cookies around him, and he started batting her away laughing.

“No, you’re gonna ruin it!”

“Not if you share!” She hip checked him, trying to move him, but he only pushed her back, each of them fighting for space in front of the heaping plate. Finally, Ellie managed to edge in between him and the counter, snatching a cookie, spinning triumphantly. “Got one!” The words died in her mouth as she realized how close they were, his hips pressing hers into the counter, lips inches from hers, the smear of chocolate on his upper lip tempting her, sweeter than any cookie she’d ever seen.

A soft thud caught her attention and she looked down, realizing the cookie had fallen out of her hand. She swallowed and looked back at him. “Colt?” He wasn’t blinking, eyes trained on her lips and his hands curling around her waist. Her heart jumped into her throat.

“Daddy!” Colt jumped back as if stung as Kira flounced into the room. “Are we gonna have cake?”

Ellie blinked at where Colt was still staring at her, eyes wide; apparently, she was going to need to recover her voice first. “Yeah, in a minute.”

“Ok! Yay! I love cake!” Kira answered as only a sugar-high five year-old could and danced off.

“I’m gonna-” Ellie licked her lips and gestured to the food behind her. “I’m gonna get-”

The rest of the sentence was lost in Colt’s mouth as he surged forward and pressed her against the counter. She responded eagerly, throwing her arms around his neck, licking the chocolate off his lip and then pushing her tongue to meet his and chase the rest of the sweetness. He moaned low in his throat, hands grabbing her hips and sliding against her back, shots of electricity that went straight down her spine. She kissed him like she was drowning, like she had been drowning for years and the breath she pulled from his lungs was what she needed to revive her, to awaken her nerves and the shivers down her back and the tingle even lower.

She had just slid her fingers into his belt loops, yanking him closer, grasping at every inch of skin she could reach, when footsteps registered at the edge of consciousness. It was impossible to pay attention to anything else, however, when Colt’s teeth made their way to her lip, a teasing bite that made her jerk her hips. 

But she was forced to look up when the door to the kitchen flew open with a crash and Colt jumped backwards, both of them gasping for breath.

“Holy shit.” Riya hissed, shock on her face fading into a knowing grin that Ellie despised. “I’m just gonna...” She put the dirty dishes on the counter and covered her eyes. “Carry on. I’m just gonna go back out and you guys can continue whatever it was that you were doing.” 

Ellie glared daggers at her back. When she turned to Colt, the moment had faded; he was looking at the ground, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, the other gesturing towards the door. “I’m gonna-”

She nodded, busying herself by fixing up the desserts. They said history repeated itself so you had to learn from it, but she wasn’t sure she understood this lesson. 

At least this time, she was sober.

~~~~~

Before (when things got worse, went from bad to worse, went from bad to worst...)

Ellie frowned, putting the phone down with a sigh. 

She should have known she wasn’t ready to jump into anything again, the breakup with Colt so fresh, so raw, but Logan was Logan. He was kind and caring and so undoubtedly attractive that she let herself believe that they could more from friendship to more without stopping to think. To think about what she wanted, to think about her broken heart and worried mind and her ruined life.

She had just been so lonely. And alone. And sad, as sad as she had ever been. And scared, terrified really, of being a single mother and having no one else to rely on, other than herself. She knew first-hand how cruel this world could be; could she and Akira really survive as a dyad, a pair, fighting through the storms together? She wasn’t sure.

But when her world turned upside down, Logan had been the person she could rely on. Ximena was around, often, but Ellie suspected that it was because Colt requested it, had asked her to check in and care for his family when he couldn’t. And, to his credit, he hadn’t called her, had respected her angry words, words that she sometimes thought she would take back if given the chance, if he had called. She wondered what they would say, if he would apologize and explain, if she would apologize and take back her rage. Those thoughts remained unspoken, though. He didn’t call. She didn’t visit. And she was alone.

But not always alone. Logan had been there, for the mundane, such as pickups from school or last minute grocery trips, and the less mundane, such as calming her tears when the stress and worry became too much. 

But jumping into a relationship? It was too much, too soon. She couldn’t...she just couldn’t... She sunk into a chair and put her hands over her face. He had even been so understanding about it all, vowing that they would stay friends, vowing that this wouldn’t ruin their ten year friendship. Regardless of what else they had going on, he had her back.

Her ruminating was interrupted by a knock at the door, three sharp raps that made her pause. She wasn’t expecting anyone and tiptoed over, peering through the peephole and gasping. 

The last person she expected to see on her doorstep was standing there, repetitively cracking his knuckles and rocking back on his heels, frown on his face. She threw open the door. 

He straightened and looked down at her; any nervousness she saw through the peephole was gone now as he stared in barely contained fury. “Hello, Ellie.”

“Hi, Colt.” She took a minute to drink him in; he was glaring at her, arms stiff at his side and hands balled into fists. She hadn’t seen him in four months and couldn’t stop her eyes from assessing him, looking him over under the dim streetlight above them to see how he changed. He looked harder, muscles in his chest more defined, tilt of his shoulders more aggressive, but it was him, alive and free.

“Can I come in?”

She dumbly nodded and stood aside so he could walk in, stooping to untie his boots and leave them in the entryway before stepping inside. She felt unmoored, lost. “When did you get out of jail?”

“Last week. They dropped all charges. Just like I said.”

She swallowed. His words were dripping with poison; while they had their share of fights, he had never spoken to her this coldly. He had never scared her; for all his criminal activity and illegal transgressions, he had also been tender hands and declarations of love with her. While she wasn’t scared of him now, she suddenly knew what it was like to be in front of Kaneko, instead of her Colt.

“You waited a week to come-”

“I’m here now. I wanted to talk to you about Kira.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay.” She wondered if he would let her apologize for her words or if it would be pointless, just like the last four months had been: pointless and long and unforgiving.

“We need to come up with a schedule so I can see my daughter.” He reached into his pocket to pull out a folded piece of paper and hand it to her. “Here’s what I recommend. It’s an alternating schedule; one week, I’l get her Monday-Wednesday-Friday. Then you have the following weekend and we switch.” His tone was short, business-like, serious.

She looked down at his careful writing on the paper. “Okaaay.” Her brain wasn’t keeping up. Apparently, she wasn’t going to get an apology either; maybe it was for the best. “This is fine. I guess. I mean...” She bit her lip, trying and failing to think.

“This is just a starting point. Modifications are fine based on schedule.” He hadn’t taken his coat off, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Then, yeah. Yeah, this is fine.”

“Good.”

“I missed you.” The words came out before she could reconsider.

His eyes narrowed, darkening dangerously. “I’d like to see my daughter, please.”

“She’s...” Ellie had to suck in a breath, blinking to try and keep the tears from her eyes. This is not exactly how she imagined the reunion. Thank goodness he hadn’t arrived any earlier, to catch her stilted conversation with Logan. “She’s asleep.”

“I just want to see her.”

“Ok.” Ellie sighed. “Fine.”

He nodded brusquely and walked past her towards Kira’s room, opening the door as softly as possible. She followed, slowly, feet padding behind as she stopped in the hall. Ellie wondered if jail had hardened him, if the tight jaw and narrowed eyes were an artifact of being inside for so long. 

However, as she peered through her daughters doorway and saw him sit carefully on the side of Kira’s tiny mattress, tears pooling in his eyes, gentle hand caressing her face with inexplicable softness, she wondered if it was she, herself, was the hardening force. 

 ~~~~~

And now (for the end of the end and the beginning of the beginning...)

“We should stop.” Her hands fisted into his t-shirt, pulling him closer so her hands could greedily start working on the button of his jeans. She had only come to pick up Kira, to take her home for dinner and bath and story and bed and another night of being alone. She had not come here to be pressed against the filing cabinet in Colt’s office, his lips sliding against hers and strong arms holding her hips steady.

His lips edged to her ear and he hissed as her hands found her target. “You’re kinda giving me mixed signals here.” 

She also hadn’t come here to see Sam, the young coffee shop girl with bright lipstick and rapid prattle, playing checkers with Kira on the concrete floor of the shop while Colt was in his office. It made something ugly burn in her stomach, ugly and nasty and painful; in the back of her mind, she realized that she understood what it was like to be replaced and how deep that hurt went. “We should stop, we’re in your office, Colt.”

“I’m well aware.” His hips bucked as she gave him a slow stroke, just how he liked. Some things were impossible to forget.

“And Kira’s outside.”

“Yeah, she’s fine.” The noise was huffed against her neck as warm hands slid up her back. 

She blinked. Kira was outside with the coffee shop girl and Ellie was in here, with her ex and her broken heart and her broken family that had never really been fixed.

“Stop.” He froze instantly at the word and her dead voice, his hands stopping their path up her sides. “We can’t do this.”

"Ok.” He took a few steps back, breathing hard. He looked debauched, standing in front of her, hair mussed, shirt wrinkled, cheeks and lips flushed a bright pink that continued down and disappeared into his shirt. 

“Listen, El-” He quickly fixed up his pants, taking a deep breath and another step back. “Ellie. I-” He rubbed his hand over his face. “This isn’t-”

His struggle for words was interrupted by a scream, piercing in the shop, and then a crash that trailed off into silence. Colt caught her eye for a split-second, fear clouding his gaze, before cursing. “Fuck, Akira!” He threw open the door to the office and sprinted into the shop, Ellie hot on his heels. 

And what she saw made her heart leap into her throat. 

Kira was on the ground, a crumpled heap, next to a cabinet of tools that lay on its side. Its drawers were askew, wrenches and screws and metal scattered around where her child lay, eerily still for a child who never stopped moving. Colt made it there first, turning her over as Ellie’s hand flew to her mouth. Kira’s eyes were closed, eyebrows and lashes stark against her pale skin, below a patch of blood that was steadily getting worse. 

“Kira? Hey, Kira?” He was under her now, sitting, crouched down, careful hands combing back her hair to get a better look. Her arm was splayed out at an odd angle, cradled in her dad’s lap, and Ellie thought she was gonna throw up.

Colt reached into his pocket, trying not to jostle the still bundle on his lap, and tossed his phone to Ellie. “Call an ambulance. Now.”

She nodded, shaky, fingers typing in the eight numeric digits without thinking, unlocking the phone with trembling hands as she sank to the floor so she wouldn’t drop the phone. Even sitting on the concrete, her knees were knocking against each other and she felt so cold, watching Colt pull their daughter to him; she dialed the number.

Sam came running down the stairs, dark hair flying behind her. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you get me the first aid kit?”

“911, what is your emergency?”

“I-”

“Where’s the first aid kit?”

“Break room.” 

“911. Hello? Ma’am?”

“I-” 

“Hurry!”

“Ok, I’ll get it.” Sam’s footsteps disappearing into the break room brought her back into the moment. She had taken down corrupt cops and stolen multi-million dollar vehicles. She could call an ambulance.

“Yes, I’m here. I need an ambulance to Gramercy Park. My daughter is hurt...” She looked at the wreckage around her as she gave the dispatcher the information, her daughter cradled in Colt’s arms, shouts from the back as Toby and Ximena came running out. She sat and trembled like a leaf in a tornado, desperate to hold onto something for dear life.

She shook the entire way, as she watched the red lights flash throughout the street, the entire ambulance ride, clutching Colt’s hand until her knuckles were white and sore. Kira had woken up during the trip, eyes confused and frightened watching the strange equipment and paramedics bustling over her, crying when she told them that she only wanted to climb up the toolbox-she was so so sorry and she would never do it again and it hurt. Ellie shook and trembled and fretted as she watched the stretcher go down the hall, off to some scan with some machine that would tell them if something was seriously wrong, shook the whole way to the waiting room as they checked her baby out and she and Colt had to wait interminably as the local news blared on the television chained to the wall and she paced and paced and paced.

“Ellie, she's going to be okay.”

Ellie wringed her hands together. “I know, I know. I'm just...I can’t believe...”

“Yeah.” He plopped into a chair, long legs splayed in front of him.

She glared at him, flash of anger coming on the heels of the terror. “I thought your girlfriend was watching her.”

“Who?”

“Sam?”

“Who the hell’s Sam?”

Ellie blinked at him. It was like they were inhabiting completely separate worlds. But maybe they had been for the last two years. “The girl in the shop? Who was playing with Kira?”

“Wait, the receptionist?”

Ellie froze in mid-flail, hand returning to her side. “Who?”

“Toby’s cousin? Who works the front desk?” Colt stared her down. “Jesus, Ellie, that’s who you’ve been talking about? For Christ’s sake, she’s 18. And she works for me!”

“Toby’s cousin?”

“She needed a job. I needed someone to sit at the front desk and play solitaire and not blow shit up. It worked.”

She sank into the chair next to him, legs giving out. She was entirely drained, her body, her mind, everything; she put her elbows on her knees to cradle her head in her hands, boneless and tired. “Colt, how did we end up here?”

“Uhh, how did we end up at the hospital?” He watched her, warily. “El, did you hit your head too?”

“No. How did we end up here?”

He watched her, eyebrow raised, waiting to see if she would elaborate. When she didn’t, he sighed and crossed his hands over his chest. “You mean, the fact that you dumped me when I was locked up?”

“Colt, I was furious. And rightfully so.”

“I know. You were right to be pissed. Hell, you were right to kick me out.” He raked his hands through his hair.

“I was furious and then I stopped being mad. And started being sad.” She looked at her hands, trying to choose her words carefully. “And it was like you didn’t care. When you got out, you waited a week to see us and you hated me.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true, it is, and our family fell apart.”

“I never hated you.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” She had to lower her voice; even though they were the only ones in the room, she didn’t want anyone walking by to hear the sobs of her broken heart. “You were so cold and so mean and you hated me, despised me. For months. I’m sorry that I was so mad but-”

“Stop it.” He turned to her, eyes fiery underneath the down-turned brow. “I never hated you. But you-”

“But I what, Colt? What the hell did I do?”

He looked forward again, staring at the television. “I came to see you, you know. The night I got out of jail. I came by the house.” He bit his lip, still avoiding her eyes. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“No, you didn't. I would have remembered that.”

“I did.” His arms were crossed and he looked past her, over her shoulder. “You weren't alone.”

“Of course I wasn't alone. I had Kira all the time.”

“No. That's not what I mean. You weren't alone.”

The realization was immediate. “Logan.”

He nodded and looked away, jaw set.

“Colt.... Colt.” Her eyes started to fill up with tears. “It wasn't like that. I was scared. I was scared and sad and alone and I thought you were gone. I thought you were gone and I thought I was a single mom and I really needed somebody. And you weren't there.”

He shrugged. His eyes were glassy, too. “Well, it didn't take you long to move on, did it now?”

“It wasn't like that.”

“Wasn’t it?”

They just stared at each other, the years and pain and heartbreak filling the space between them. Finally, Colt’s eyes dropped to the ground, to look at the magazine rack behind her, to look anywhere and everywhere but her.

She wiped a tear from her cheek. “What were you going to say?”

“What?”

“What were you going to say, the first time you came by?”

“Ellie, what the hell do you think I was going to say?” His voice shook slightly. “I wanted my family back. I wanted to move home. I wanted you.”

She sucked in a shuddery breath, tears coming faster now. “I would have said yes. Colt, I would have... I would have said yes.” She bit her lip, watching him take in her confession, saying nothing. The television continued to blare in the background, now the theme song of some game show. 

He opened his mouth. And reconsidered, thinking, before turning to her, serious look on his face. “Ellie, what if-”

“Excuse me.” They both turned, Colt leaping to his feet, as a nurse walked in. “You can come back now. The CT’s done.”

They arrived at her room to see the doctor hovering over her, Kira’s eyes open but blinking slowly. She looked drawn, exhausted. Ellie raced to her bedside, taking the tiny hand not encased in gauze and clutching it as tightly as she could.

“I’m ok, mom. I’m ok.” Kira was pale, propped up on pillows, bandage almost comically large for her small head.

“She really is ok. The good news is that it’s just a concussion. Scan revealed nothing abnormal so she should be fine, but she should stay here for observation tonight and then we can put her cast on tomorrow.” 

“They said I was tough and gave me a sticker.” Kira proudly showed off the unicorn on her shirt.

“You are tough, kid.” The doctor smiled kindly at her, and then turned to Ellie and Colt. “Would either of you like to spend the night as well?”

“I’m staying.” They both spoke in unison; Ellie shot a surprised glance over but Colt’s jaw was set, certain.

The doctor continued undaunted while scrawling on her clipboard. “I mean, you can both stay, it’s just a tiny room and the cots that we have are pretty small for two people.”

Ellie blinked as Colt answered for the both of them. “That’s fine.”

Ellie considered disagreeing but held her tongue. She almost spoke up when Kira slipped into a blissful sleep, painkillers and exhaustion taking hold. She almost spoke up again when the nurses gave her some scrubs to wear, pale blue and threadbare, but soft against her skin. She absolutely had to speak up when she saw the actual size of the cot.

“We’re not sleeping together on that.” It was made for one person, half the size of her bed at home, the bed that was hers alone and had been hers alone for years.

Colt dropped onto the mattress, frame squeaking as his long legs stretched. “What do you mean? I’ve seen you give birth, I think we can share a bed.”

She whacked him over the head, sitting down next to him with a huff.

“What, I can’t use your own words against you?”

“You’re incorrigible.” She looked down uncertainly. “I don’t think this will hold us both.”

He rested his hands under his head. Even though they had turned off the lights so Kira could sleep, monitors cast a eerie glow about the room. “It’ll be fine. And if it breaks and you get hurt, we’re already in the hospital.”

She rolled her eyes and stretched out, turning away from him but still acutely aware of his body, right behind her, warm and comforting and familiar. She shifted, trying to get comfortable in the tiny space, no room to move between Colt and the wall, hospital beeping and din doing battle with her tired mind. She was almost comfortable when Colt spoke. 

“What would you say now?” 

“Say now about what?” She turned to see him, profile visible in the dark as he stared up at the ceiling. “Huh?”

“If I told you I wanted to come home. In the waiting room...” He rubbed his palm over his lips. “In the waiting room, you said you would have said yes when I got outta jail. What would you say now? If I asked?”

Her stomach dropped. “Colt...” She sat up, elbow propped so she could study his face, the tears forming in his eyes. “Colt...do you want to come home?”

“More than anything.” He turned so he could face her fully. “Ellie, more than anything. I’m done with-”

The rest of the words were meaningless, mumbled and garbled as she leaned forward to press her lips to his. He pulled her closer, desperate, needy, hands flying over every inch of her as if to reassure himself that she was real.

His voice was hoarse when he pulled back. “You know how important family is to me. You know I don’t want to be my dad, you know this.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry I fucked it up.” She could see the remorse painted on his face, remorse and pain and maybe a little hope too. 

“I know.” She laid down on the cot, dropping her head on his chest, weary exhaustion seeping into her bones. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, El.” He kissed her forehead. “I missed you and Kira and my family. Every day. This is what’s important to me.”

Her eyes were blinking slower now, hospital noise fading from her mind.

She almost didn't hear his whispered ‘I love you, El’ as she sank into darkness.

~~~~~~

Ellie was still in the place between sleep and waking, where everything was warm and quiet and still, mind and body just floating in space, when a familiar arm curved over her, sliding just under her breasts to settle by her rib cage. Her eyes shot open as the body behind her leaned close to nuzzle the curve of her neck, breath warm on her skin, and she heard the sleepy sigh that had once been so familiar, as familiar as her own name.

No one else held her like this. And she knew, in her hearts of hearts, that no one else would ever hold her like this again.

She spun around and Colt’s eyes blinked open unsteadily. “Colt?”

“Wha-?”

“I didn’t-” Her brain was fuzz, eyes unsteady as she took in the sterile walls, unfamiliar medical supplies. “Did I dream this?

His hand was still around her, now drawing patterns at the small of her back. “Dream what?”

“Are we back together?”

“Yeah, well, that was the good part of the night. Kira also got a concussion and needs a cast on her arm.”

"And that was the nightmare part of the evening.” She blinked, her recollection of the day slowing coming into focus behind her eyelids

He pulled her closer on the tiny bed. “But concussions heal. Bones heal. She’s gonna be ok.”

“Do families heal?” Her breath caught in her throat. “Are we gonna be ok?”

He was silent, through thirteen low beeps of a monitor while Ellie held her breath. Finally, he shook his head. “Not just ok. I think we’re gonna be great.”

She settled against his chest and sighed, his heartbeat matching the droning beeps above them, matching her own heartbeat in her ear. It was a weird place to find happiness but she thought that maybe, hopefully, finally, she had her family back.

~~~~~

Two years later...because the beginning of the beginning segues into the middle too...

Ellie was distracted, lost in her own head and her own circling thoughts, anxious fingers keeping busy by cleaning the kitchen counter, but even she couldn’t ignore Kira’s screech.

“Wait wait wait! I want my unicorn cup.” 

“Which unicorn cup?” Colt shook his head as he walked in, their daughter bouncing behind him.

“My favorite unicorn cup....duh, dad.”

Ellie laughed as Colt stretched high to grab the requested cup, the same cup that Kira hadn’t taken a sip from in over a year. The grin her seven year-old gave was blinding as she filled it with water and flounced away.

“Duh, dad,” Ellie echoed, knocking into his shoulder with a smile, appreciative of some distraction to get her mind of the treadmill of thoughts she had been on for the last few days.

“She sounds like a teenager.” 

“What if I wanted the unicorn cup, Colt?”

“We have seven unicorn cups, take your pick.” He groaned. “I’m gonna get her into motorcycles. We could start a motorcycle cup collection."

“Hmmm....or have a boy....” Ellie mused out loud.

When she realized what she said, her heart stopped, mouth falling open, She tried and failed to cover it up with a cough, her mind inadvertently flashing to the shopping bag hidden in a pile of clothes on the floor of her closet, the bag she hadn’t get had a chance to open, waiting for a moment alone when the house was quiet and still and she would have the appropriate solace for a life-changing moment. 

But of course, Colt noticed everything.

“Ellie?”

She said nothing, couldn’t get the words to come.

“Ellie? Is there something you’re not....” She watched his eyes widen and trail down to her stomach. He stepped closer, lips quirking into a brilliant smile. “Ellie?”

“I don’t know for sure! I wasn’t going to say anything until I was sure.”

“Oh my God, you’re pregnant.”

“I’m not sure but...” He swept her into a hug, lips finding hers; she was giggling and kissing and seriously, deliriously happy. “I think I’m pregnant.”

“It’s a boy.”

“How are you so sure? I don’t even know if I’m really-”

“I know.” He smirked, leaning in to trail his lips up her jaw. “I know everything.”

“Really.”

“I know you’re pregnant.” Soft hands pulled her against him.

“Ok.”

“I know it’s a boy.” Soft lips traced the underside of her chin.

“Ok....”

“And I know you’re gonna marry me.”

She leaned away to look into his eyes, heart stopping. “You haven’t asked.” Her mind flashed to before, years ago, a distant memory of finding a ring by his bedside when she thought she was as happy as she could ever be.

He winked at her, cocky and sure. “I know. But you’re gonna.” Suddenly, she felt even younger, 18 again, watching a boy with a motorcycle take on the world. But this time, she was by his side.

“That’s not a proposal.”

He shrugged, stepping back and moving to follow Kira out of the room. “I know.”

“Wait.” She turned, unable to stop the grin from spreading over her face. “Just wait a second.”

“You’ll see. I know everything.” And with that, he was gone, out of the room, leaving behind more questions than answers.

She stood, frozen on the spot, staring at the space he just vacated, grin spreading over her face until she thought her cheeks would split in two. 

She thought it was a lie that broken bones healed stronger.

But maybe families did.

And maybe right now was actually as happy as she had ever been.

Tags: @choicesseptemberchallenge  

Perma @leelee10898 @emichelle @client-327

ROD @omgjasminesimone @mskaneko

Colt

@deimosensblog @alegria1580  @choicesarehard @thefarrari @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @choicesgremlin @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @brightpinkpeppercorn @zaira-oh-zaira @umiumichan @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices  @maxwellsquidsuit  @liamzigmichael4ever @octobereighth @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction

[mpmwrites]

Positive and Negative Preferences

Hello all! I perticipated in @dbhevents​ Secret Santa, and I wrote a fic for @exfriends​!

This is a Reed900 Coffee Shop AU, rated T for language.

Hello darling @exfriends​. I am so very sorry you had to wait this long. I’m afraid it’s entirely my fault, because I bit off more than I could chew around the holidays this year, and unfortunately that led to quite the delay. I also want to apologize that I didn’t go exactly with what you requested. I saw that you liked other types of AUs and this kind of just clicked into place for me. (But if it’s really not your thing, I’d be happy to write something new. You deserve a great gift!) Here’s hoping you enjoy.

Also a thanks to @the-writing-of-a-gay-idiot​ for giving me so much feedback!

On with the show!

It wasn't that he wanted to be an asshole. Really, he knew he was an asshole, and could see himself acting it out in real time, but he had absolutely no reason to try to be better. Part of it was the coffee thing. He'd hardly slept in college, and became a six-cup-a-day person, and he'd rarely admit it, but he was even worse without caffeine. So, nearly fifteen years later, he figured that if coffee was gonna keep him from getting fired for shitting on someone stupid, he could be addicted to worse things.

When the android behind the counter suggested that he was their most frequent customer, he shrugged. Most days, he came in three times: on the way to work, on lunch, and before catching the bus home. Large coffee, nonfat milk, and one sugar. Of course it was always perfectly sweetened, perfectly steaming, because it was an android who made it, and most days he didn’t even have to say his order before Richard was ringing him up with a smile.

He never stayed, preferring to take his coffee back to work or drink it on the bus so he could enjoy it in relative privacy. He wasn't much interested in sitting around while the 20-somethings giggled their way through their overly-sweet lattes, and certainly wasn't going to indulge in some calorie-laden baked goods when he could get something healthier and cheaper just about anywhere else. He could take his day home and tell his cat about all of the fucked up shit he saw in the world.

His birthday, however, brought on a whole new series of shitty feelings about being alone and being 37 with his only friend as his cat. He told himself he had friends. That he wasn't alone. That someone might care if he wasn't around. By the time he headed to the coffee shop after work, he was feeling worse than he did when he woke up that morning.

"Good afternoon, Gavin." Rich smiled as he passed the usual green paper cup over the counter. "Did you have a pleasant rest of the day?" Pleasant. Yeah. The same question he asked every other afternoon receive the same answer Gavin always gave him: a shrug and a half smile. As he turned to leave, Gavin's eyes settled on an empty table by the window at the front of the café. There was only one chair. He thought about his apartment, and sitting alone, probably ordering some indulgent junk food as a gift for himself, and falling asleep to the nightly weather report; waking up with a stiff neck before finally dragging himself to his actual bed.

He sat down at the table.

He nursed his coffee as he listened in to strangers conversations and flipped through social media on his phone. When he'd drained the last drop, he sat the cup down with a hollow noise and looked out the window. The sun had set mostly and headlights glared against the window was cars moved down the street. The bus passed; Gavin had at least 15 minutes until the next one. He took a breath and wiggled the empty cup against the table, listening to the noise it made and wondering why he had nothing better to do on his own damn birthday other than sit alone in a coffee shop.

"You come to get coffee, three times a day, five days a week." Richard said as he approached the table carefully, "And have done so for at least the thirty seven weeks I've been employed here. This is the first time you've ever stayed." He observed, sitting down a new, steaming coffee. It was in a black ceramic mug.

Gavin looked up at him blankly, not having an answer to the statement, "Uh, yeah." He fumbled.

"I've been wondering why, if I may ask." Richard offered a small, awkward smile.

"I guess…" Gavin paused to summon a reason as he fished his wallet out of his back pocket, "Well, It's my birthday, I didn't want to be alone." He explained quietly, suddenly embarrassed by the concept. He wondered why he even felt the need to answer, much less with such a vulnerable truth.

"In that case, I'm very glad to have your company." The barista's words were formal, but tinted with something genuine. He waved a dismissive hand as Gavin made to hand him a few bills for the refill. "Consider it a thank you for your loyalty." Richard said, before moving away to tend the counter once again.

Gavin stayed past the next bus, and then a few more, until it was completely dark outside. When he finally had a renewed thought to leave, the rest of the café was already empty. Richard was milling about, wiping down tables and pushing in chairs as Gavin stood and took the mug to the counter. When he turned to the door, Richard followed, rescuing something from the counter as he hastened to catch up. As Gavin laid his hand on the door handle, Richard was behind him, reaching over his shoulder to flick open the lock, "I lock the door after closing." He explained.

"Closing? When did you close?"

"Eleven minutes ago." Richard smiled, holding out the green paper bag he'd taken from the counter. "This is for you. I usually compost the remaining baked goods, but I didn't see the harm in giving you a birthday treat, especially after you hadn't eaten all evening."

Gavin took in that fraction of a smile that Rich always served him alongside his coffee. He held a good five or so inches over Gavin, but was at least just as muscular if not more so that Gavin was. It pinged in Gavin's mind that it was all artificial, that he'd been designed to be handsome and perfect, but the realization of his appeal struck Gavin all the same. Richard was good looking, had been keeping track of Gavin's visits, and was some kind of concerned for his nutritional well-being.

The idea of Richard's regard for him was unexpected, and came with a small tilt of Gavin's chin before he realized he was leaving. "Uh, I'm sorry for keeping you. Thanks for letting me stay." Gavin said as he remembered to be a semi-decent person.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you please." Richard reminded him, holding the door open to the cool fall night.

-----

Gavin transferred paperwork to his portable the following afternoon, toting it with him to the coffee shop. He worked his way through it over his usual coffee and left cash next to his empty cup that Richard didn't take when he quietly left his refill. He waited until the last customer left and checked the time. Fifteen minutes before closing, Richard was idling behind the counter.

"Your boss can't be letting you just keep giving me free coffee." Gavin proclaimed as he brought up the empty mug and left behind cash.

"We offer a complimentary refill to guests who choose to dine in." Richard explained lightly. He watched Gavin curiously. Gavin offered a small snort of amusement,

"You're telling me I come in here and pay for three cups a day when I could just stay and only pay for two?" He grinned wryly.

"I suppose you could, but then, how would you earn the money to pay for those two cups?" Richard took the mug and turned around to put it on the counter next to a small sink. "Despite our appreciation of your patronage, I'd think that you'd be more valued if you continued working."

"I think you overestimate my abilities as a cop." Gavin leaned on the counter slightly.

"Well, I'd prefer that you never have an opportunity to prove me wrong." Richard smiled, and maybe Gavin was looking differently, but his smile seemed more genuine than it did when he normally ordered his coffee. He vaguely noticed a light shutting off outside the shop, prompting Richard's LED to throw a blip of yellow before being summarily returned to blue.

"I guess that means it's closing time." Gavin sighed, pushing away from the counter. He turned to leave, but turned back and leaned his whole torso over the counter, slipping the payment intended for coffee into Richard's apron pocket. "Call it a tip." he offered an awkward wink.

"Gavin, as an android, I am not permitted to have personal finances." Richard's smile was gone as he extracted the bills with a slow movement.

"Well, I'm not taking it back. Who's arresting you?" He shrugged, retreating toward the door with a cocky smile.

-----

The rest of the week continued on in that way; Gavin sat at the cafe for hours, and would chat amicably with the android barista once the shop was empty save for them. He left at closing every night with a smile and occasionally with a sugary treat in hand.

Gavin knew he was fooling himself. After all, and android couldn't have more personal feelings toward him than any other being; human, android, or otherwise. Still, he made himself get up and go to work each day with the prospect of a fresh cup and one free refill after. Companionship from anyone other than his cat was more than he deserved, he figured, but at least Richard was someone he could talk to. Sure, they never talked about anything with any kind of weight, but it was better than talking to himself in the quiet of his apartment.

He let himself believe that it was something like friendship.

So, when Richard leaned across the counter and kissed him, time stopped. Not in a stupid romantic comedy way, but in a way that shook Gavin to his core in self doubt. Richard was an android. Richard couldn't feel anything toward him. He shouldn't have felt anything for a walking, talking computer. He decided not to.

"What the hell?" Gavin's face contorted in confusion and offense when the android pulled away. He waited for an answer as Richard's LED spun to yellow then red and back.

"I am sorry, Gavin, I must have misunderstood your intentions." He stared at Gavin for a long moment before busying himself with tidying the counter.

"My intentions?" Gavin sputtered, failing to assume an appropriate reaction.

"My social protocols interpreted your new interest in being at the café and consistent attempts at companionship as a wish to enter into a romantic relationship." Richard explained. We offer a complimentary refill to guests who choose to dine in.

"Oh." Gavin dismissed the offence and remained pensive. "You're an android. You don't have feelings, especially not for humans." He drew. Richard froze and his LED looked like it was trying to send a distress signal. Eventually, he answered.

"That is correct." He mentioned, though it sounded more like a realization than a confirmation. Somehow, Gavin felt a little hurt.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow." Gavin offered, leaving his mug and retreating quietly.

-----

"Good morning, what can I get you?" Gavin stared at the android taking his order. It wasn't Richard, but a female who looked young and had red curls framing her face. He couldn't see an LED, but the blue armband was telling enough.

"Uh, large coffee, nonfat milk, one sugar. To go." He told her, baffled by her presence. He paid her and she turned away to prepare his order. "Do you know what happened to Richard?" He said casually.

"Richard was found to be malfunctioning, I am his replacement." She didn't seem fazed as she set his cup on the counter.

"Oh. Is he going to be back?"

"I'm not sure, I'm sorry." She offered a kind smile, and moved on to the next customer. When he came back at lunch, she was still there, and in the afternoon too. He didn't stay.

Richard didn't return in the following days, and Gavin stopped coming in early for his coffee, and didn't bother to prolong his commute for the stop either. Two weeks later, he'd begun to favor  the coffee shop closer to work for his lunch breaks, and let thoughts fade of his usual place.

It wasn't that their coffee was any better; he just couldn't find the effort to go out of his way to go to the old place anymore. It was different. It didn't feel like his place anymore, and he couldn't much find a reason why. Suzie's was closer anyway; only a block walk from the station, even if the coffee wasn't quite as good, the convenience made up for it.

Not to mention, the less time he spent walking, the more time he could spend working, and with the elevated counts of rogue androids in the city he was needed more than ever. Rumors of an uprising and of feeling androids whispered through the city, though he didn't pay them any mind. A fantasy of robots with feelings didn't make their human victims any less dead, or homicide any more legal. Still, every once in a while, the memory of that long moment of hesitation and the flickering of Richard's LED had him wondering if all rumors had root in truth after all. He tried not to dwell on it. Realistically, Richard had either been 'decommissioned' or 'recalibrated' and in either case, there was no reason for him to be anywhere on Gavin's radar anymore.

Malfunctioning, the replacement had said. Malfunctioning, like he had a glitch or dropped too many dishes or messed up customers orders. Malfunctioning, like giving away free pastries after closing time. Malfunctioning, like misinterpreting the actions of a pathetically lonely detective.

It was raining the night he followed Anderson into Carlos Ortiz's home, where the murder had taken place. They milled around, looking at eerily lit evidence and the filth of a drug addict's dwelling, until Gavin thought to look up and had Hank help him climb into the attic.

He interrogated an android, and suddenly it was all too real. There was blue blood all over the table, and he could still hear the android's panicked ramblings long after he was dismissed for the night. He walked for a while, and while the rain had stopped the sidewalk was still wet enough for his shoes to be soaked through. Ortiz's android felt. It was scared and stressed and confused, and those were all decidedly things that it had not been programmed to be.

His legs took him to the old coffee shop, and as he moved inside to get some fuel and clear his mind a little, he thought he saw Richard for a brief moment. He rubbed his eyes, figuring he was more tired than he realized, then looked back up to the counter. Sure enough, Richard was standing there, staring.

"Large coffee, nonfat milk, one sugar. To go." Gavin breathed slowly, not making eye contact. Richard stalled before turning away and grabbing an already prepared cup from the back counter and handing it over.

"You're Gavin." He said.

"Yeah, that's me, tin can." Gavin couldn't help but smile at the sound of his own name as he passed over his payment and took the cup.

"Enjoy." Richard offered plainly, watching Gavin with a serene expression until Gavin turned slowly and left.

It was awkward. Gavin figured if Richard had been human, he couldn't have expected much more than some kind of fumbling awkwardness remaining from their last encounter. But, Richard wasn't human, and he'd said Gavin's name like it meant nothing to him. He'd had Gavin's coffee waiting, even though Gavin hadn't been there in months, and it wasn't really hot anymore, like it'd been sitting there for a while. There had been no indication that Richard remembered, though, and Gavin knew there was no chance that he would have been returned to work without some kind of reformation for his 'malfunction'.

He wasn't going to let himself be pulled into all of it again. Richard wasn't human; he wasn't Gavin's friend or his anything. Customer files had been left in his system, probably. He'd seen Gavin walking down the street and just remembered a formerly regular customer and their order, and while Gavin was musing over his wet shoes, he made the order. He didn't owe Richard his company just because he memorized his order like any other regular customer's. He couldn't force friendship on a service bot that couldn't say no, and, yeah, he was kind of an asshole for doing it in the first place.

A pathetic asshole.

-----

He propped his feet on his desk as he reasoned with himself over a game of solitaire on his phone. He had no reason to feel rejected, he had no reason to feel even more lonely than he did on his birthday. He had no reason to ignore the cup from Rosie's because of any of it, either. He let himself get lost in his game and refused to think about all the mushy stuff that made up the smaller parts of Gavin. He shut himself off so completely that he didn't notice one of the station androids hovering next to his desk.

"Detective Reed?" She reasoned, and when he didn't answer, she reached a hand out to his shoulder and repeated herself, making Gavin jump at the contact.

"Fuck, what do you want?!" He barked at her, dropping his feet and straightening defensively.

"There is someone here, in the lobby, requesting to see you personally. It is an android. They said you ordered delivery."

"I didn't order anything. Must be malfunctioning--"

Malfunctioning, like making a coffee for a customer that didn't come anymore.

Gavin stood, though frowning, and followed her back to the receptionist's desk. There, behind it, stood Richard.

"Gavin, I was wondering if you had a moment to talk." He was holding a coffee, steam piping out of the little vent on the top.

"Yeah, I got time." Gavin shrugged, letting himself be led outside. It was brisk, but sunny. The fresh air brightened him a little.

"I was recalibrated to correct processing malfunctions in my system four months and three weeks ago." Richard stated abruptly as he faced Gavin."I had made an inappropriate gesture to a customer, and my owners were concerned that I had been affected by deviancy. I was returned to work three weeks later." He was practically rambling, if his speech hadn't sounded so formal and calculated. "Every day since then, I have made this same coffee, four times a day, without being prompted to." He held out the cup to Gavin. Gavin took it slowly, watching Richard carefully. "I am afraid I lied to you."

"Lied to me?" Gavin gaped at the sudden change of context. "Androids can't lie." he demanded.

"Deviant androids can." Richard posed, scrutinizing Gavin's expression. "And to correct the mistruth I told you: some androids have feelings, and certainly can have feelings for humans." He admitted. Gavin waited for further explanation and received nothing.

"You're saying that you have feelings?"

"Since I've no prior experience to go on, it's hard for me to process, but I do know I have both positive and negative preferences for arbitrary things." He explained. He looked nervous. "For example, I do not like cleaning up spilled drinks. I do not like the idea of being recalibrated again. I do like being in your presence."

"So you brought me free coffee now? For what? Because you like seeing me?"

"My owners were not pleased that I continued making drinks for customers that did not exist. They were going to send me back to Cyberlife to be fully decommissioned. I… I didn't want to die." His LED shone yellow for a quick moment. "I knew that If I was dead, I wouldn’t be able to see you again, and I did not want that. The idea caused forty-two separate system errors."

"Because of fuckin' me?" Gavin frowned. He wasn't worth that, and he knew it.

"Entirely because of the concept of not seeing you again. I could not let that happen, so I made your coffee, paid for it, and left."

"You bought me a coffee." Gavin felt like the king of intelligent responses. "How? Why?" Richard hesitated for a long moment

"Well, a very kind customer tipped me generously once, despite my protests." He flashed that genuine smile again, as Gavin took a sip of the, as usual, perfectly made coffee. "And I've since learned, that an appropriate way of initiating a romantic relationship is to buy your interest a meal or beverage."

"Gavin choked "Jesus, fuck that's hot." He whimpered, forcing himself to swallow the scalding drink.

"I did make it extra hot so it would still be warm when I got it to you."

"Well, mission accomplished." Gavin grumbled, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Gavin, I really would like to take you on a date." Richard frowned at the lack of response to his admission.

"Well, I'm working right now. Not off 'til four." He shrugged dismissively. No need to refuse when he didn't have a choice in working.

"Oh." His tone dropped the confidence Gavin had never noticed, but only knew of now that it was gone. "I suppose I shouldn't have presumed. Thank you for indulging me, I hope I didn't interrupt your day too much."

"I didn't say no." Gavin piped up, hit with a pang of guilt. "I get coffee after work too." He could feel himself flushing, "Maybe I can buy you a cup?"

"Gavin, I have no need for food or drink."

"Then maybe you can just come so I can have some company?" Gavin tried for a small smile, despite feeling like an absolute idiot.

"I would like that."

[october31st1981]

Baby, I’m Trying

Originally written for Jily Secret Santa 2016 for the prompt “modern single parent AU.” I realized I never posted this fic to my own blog, so here it is.

She ought to know by now not to try to surprise James.

When they were twelve, she’d jumped out of a cupboard, intent on frightening James to get him back for unraveling the hem of her friend’s already threadbare uniform. He’d been so startled that he’d slammed the cupboard shut and Lily ended up with a bloody nose.

On his eighteenth birthday, she’d made the mistake of trying to throw him a party without telling him. She had half their year assembled in his house when he called to cancel their afternoon plans because his mother was taking him to Belgium.

Over the years, it’s become clear that James is far better at providing surprises than receiving them.

It’s probably foolish of her to think that this time will be different. But she’s just gotten home after studying in France during her summer and fall terms, and the only person that Lily wants to see is James Potter. They wrote letters, certainly, and talked on the phone, but it doesn’t compare to seeing him gaze at her with a warm smile or a smarmy grin from right in front of her face. He’d joked about her meeting someone while in France, but part of her thinks it was true, because she’s never been so eager to come home in her life.

And she’s missed him, missed all her boys, really. So she stands outside James’s and Sirius’s flat, knocking on their door with a grin on her face.

Sirius pulls open the door, wearing what looks like a bib and holding a plush toy in his hands. “Moony, if that’s you, you better have brought nappies—Evans!” His face breaks out into a broad grin.

Careful to avoid the mess on his bib, Lily steps into Sirius’s arms. “I’m back,” she says. “Dare I ask about the nappies?”

The smile on Sirius’s face dims. “Maybe I should let James explain.”

She releases Sirius, stepping past him into the flat. The room looks messier than usual, with an assortment of items she can’t begin to explain scattered on the floor. “Where is he? I know I should’ve called, but I thought it’d be a nice surprise this way.”

“Is that Lupin? Tell him it’s Code Yellow, false alarm,” James’s voice calls as he enters the room.

Lily’s heart speeds up a bit as he comes into view. His hair is longer, and he’s got a smudge of what looks like carrot on his cheek, but he’s still the same. She is so caught up in staring at his face that it takes her a moment to realize that he’s holding something. Someone, in fact. A baby, no more than six months old, clinging to him firmly.

Lily blinks, looking down at the child. She thinks the baby blinks back. “Are you… babysitting?” she asks. She knows Alice and Frank Longbottom had their baby not all that long ago, but it seems a bit odd that they would choose James to mind their son, considering he’s an only child and has probably never held a baby in his life.

“Er, no,” James says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. He wears an expression not dissimilar to the one he wore in Year 12 when he told he’d accidentally melted his Head Boy badge. “This is Harry. He’s… Well, he’s mine.”

Surprise, Lily thinks, feeling a little light-headed.

“Yours,” she repeats slowly.

“Mine,” he says, nodding. As if pleased by this announcement, the boy in James’s arms reaches out to him, using an impossibly tiny hand to grab at his glasses. James runs a placating hand over the baby’s hair.

Lily can’t stop staring. “You weren’t pregnant when I left.”

Sirius, who hasn’t spoken since James entered the room, scowls and mutters, “Lucy.”

Suddenly, Lily understands. When they’d been in secondary school, James had dated Lucinda Talkalot, whom he knew from his football league. Lily hadn’t liked her. Mary said it was because she’d fancied James something awful back then, but in truth, Lily had doubts about the girl. She wasn’t good at keeping friends, and to James, loyalty was more important than anything. At least, it had been. By the fond look James is giving the baby, Lily thinks that everything else in James’s life might be suddenly outranked.

“You and Lucy…” Lily trails off, looking at James significantly.

“At that Halloween party last year,” he confirms.

Her eyes drift to the baby again. Harry. He has a shock of black hair on top of his head, and his eyes are like James’s, but brighter. Hazel. Still, she feels compelled to ask. “And you’re sure?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“We talked on the phone,” Lily says weakly. She thinks of all the times where he’d hesitated in a conversation, saying he’d explain later. She supposes now is later. “You couldn’t have mentioned a baby?”

Shifting Harry to his other hip, James offers a one-armed shrug. “It seemed like in-person kind of news.”

There’s not much she can say to that. So instead, she asks, “Can I hold him?”

James looks taken aback, but he nods, approaching her slowly. “Mind his hands,” he says, placing the baby in her arms. “He likes to grab.”

And sure enough, as soon as the baby is in her arms, his tiny fists are wrapped up in her long auburn hair. Harry giggles, and Lily can see why James looks at this kid with such affection in his eyes.

Lily gives him her widest smile. “Hi, Harry.”

Over the next few weeks, the story tumbles out of the boys in pieces. How Lucy hadn’t told James about the pregnancy until Harry was already several weeks old. How she’d decided to give him up in the hopes of giving him a better life, but had hesitated at the thought of James, and shown up with the baby at his doorstep. How that day had been the last they’d seen her.

“Are you mad at Lucy?” she asks James one evening as they sit on the floor of his living room. She presses a stuffed lion against Harry’s nose, who garbles delightedly back at her.

James pauses, and then shakes his head. “Not for giving me Harry,” he says quietly. “For not telling me the first place, maybe, but I’d rather have him than not.”

“I suppose I never imagined you’d be a dad this young.” She’s only two months older than James, and she’s barely creeping up on twenty-one.

James looks at Harry. “I always sort of reckoned that when I did have a kid, I’d be married. Something for the long run, y’know.”

Lily can see it. James, in a cottage bustling with children, committed to one person for the rest of his life. He’d be happy like that. “You will be,” she says decidedly. “Just have to adjust the order.”

He raises an eyebrow suggestively. “Are you offering, Evans?”

She pulls Harry into her lap, resting her chin on the top of his head. “Sorry, Potter. My heart already belongs to someone else.”

James sighs wistfully. “Thrown over for a younger man.” He strokes a hand gently on his son’s face. “My fault for making you so handsome.”

“Thank goodness Harry has a father who’ll teach him modesty,” says Remus from the entryway. Sirius’s return from classes is flagged by the arrival of both Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew.

“That’s what you’re for, Moony.” James grins. “When you’re finished that teaching degree, I fully expect you to inform my son about the ways of the world.”

Remus groans. “If I finish this teaching degree,” he mutters. “Vector isn’t pleased about all the class I miss.”

“Cow,” interjects Sirius, pulling a face.

Lily frowns. “You can’t help that you get sick, Remus. She ought to be more understanding.”

Remus shrugs. “She’s big on attendance.”

“Had to drop her last year,” adds Peter, shuddering. “Missed four lectures and she threatened to fail me.”

James nods sympathetically. “After begging to switch to night class so Sirius can watch Harry while I’m at school, last month I had to tell her I was an hour late because Harry threw up on me. Three times.” He glances at Lily. “You sure you want to choose him over me? He’s well-practiced in the art of projectile vomit.”

Lily doubts Harry knows he’s being talked about, but he babbles when his father is looking in his direction. She turns her gaze downward. “Still him. No contest.”

James beams at Harry, or perhaps at the two of them. “Yeah, I’d pick him too.”

When Lily first notices the shift between them, they’re in a park. Harry’s too young to be able to run around, but he loves being outside anyway. Spring has arrived, and he’s growing like the weeds that are starting to make their way out of the ground. He twists and turns in his pram, eagerly trying to take everything in.

James trainers are undone, as always, so Lily is keeping her eyes on Harry as he kneels down to tie them.

An elderly woman passes by and tells Lily, “Your son is adorable.”

Lily blushes. “Oh, he’s—”

“How old is he?” the woman asks.

“Just coming up on eight months,” replies James, standing up.

The lady smiles, eyes crinkling at James’s boy. “That’s a good age. Before you can blink, he’ll be running around and it’ll be all you can do to keep up. Make sure you still make time for each other.”

James seems to realize the woman’s mistake, and he meets Lily’s eye. She thinks he’s going to correct her, but instead he says, “Good advice.”

Good advice rings through Lily’s head for at least two weeks after, and it has her flushing every time she has to look him in the face. She’s not fool enough to pretend what she was feeling when she was in France didn’t mean anything, but things are different now. James has Harry. Harry, the love of his life, who has shaken his world irrevocably. She’s not selfish enough to try to alter the life that he’s only just started to build.

But Sirius sees it. She knows he does. He can be annoyingly perceptive when it comes to things that concern James Potter.

He manages to hold his tongue for two weeks. She is watching Harry with Sirius during James’s maths lecture when he finally says to her, “So, how long’ve you been in love with James?”

Lily wants to say I’m not, but what comes out is, “France.”

Sirius picks Harry up and raises him up in the air. “So, not as long as he’s been in love with you.”

Her heart stutters, and she takes Harry from Sirius and spins him around so she has an excuse to hide her face. “James isn’t… his heart is occupied at the moment.”

Sirius laughs. “You don’t think Prongs has a heart big enough for all of us?”

Lily turns. Harry’s hands are tangled in her hair again, as they usually are these days. “I can’t ask him to make any big changes right now. Harry deserves the whole world.”

“That’s why.” Sirius says, with a smile that’s both sincere and smug. “Harry matters to you, and that matters to him.”

“I’m not going to tell him,” she says firmly. Her heart protests, but it quiets when she looks at Harry, who has burrowed himself in it as deeply as his father. “I’ll do it when he has more time to decide what he wants.”

Sirius won’t tell him either, Lily knows that much. Still, he gives Lily and Harry a lingering glance as they hold onto each other, “He already knows what he wants, Evans. This is it.”

Lily hesitates about what constitutes the right time, but she knows herself enough to be certain she wouldn’t even consider saying something if she weren’t in it for the long haul. Soon, it simply becomes a matter of finding a moment alone.

In the end, Harry is one who changes things once again. When he turns a year old, James decides to throw Harry a spectacular birthday party. There are dozens of balloons, paper stars on every surface of the flat, and a man in star-spangled robes who claims to be a magician (though he never does any tricks). By early evening, Harry is too exhausted to continue, so he is put to bed and the adults decide to open a bottle of wine.

When James is in the kitchen getting a corkscrew, she slips in, hands behind her back.

“I have a surprise for you.”

James grins, turning around. “It’s not another baby, is it?”

“I hope not, or he won’t be very comfortable in this box.” She moves her hands in front of her and hands him a neatly-wrapped gift. “When Petunia and I were little, we used to have a tradition. On our birthdays, we would give our mum a present, since she was the person who gave us life and spent the whole year looking after us. I thought, since Harry’s too young to know how much you do for him, I’d step in for him this year.”

He falters, looking a bit flustered. “Evans…”

Lily looks at James fondly. He still has paper stars in his hair from the party. “You’re a good dad, James. I hope you know that. Harry’s lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have him,” says James, setting down the present. He hesitates for a moment, and then adds, “And you.”

She’s not sure if she steps closer or he does, but there’s less distance between them in the next moment. “I’m lucky that Harry’s in my life too.”

James reaches a hand to cup her cheek. “We’re all very lucky.”

And when he kisses her, Lily can’t help but agree.

[okimargarvez]

WAITING FOR YOU

Original title: Giudizio in sospeso.

Prompt: waiting, friendship, jealousy, misunderstandings.

Warning: none.

Genre: romantic, angst, friendship.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, Lisa Douglas, Sam, Phil.

Pairing: Garvez, Penelope x Sam, Luke x Lisa, Lisa x Phil.

Note: oneshot 22 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💑💏😘💍.

Song mentioned: E fuori è buio, Tiziano Ferro.

Note: With this story, I apologize to Lisa for having hated her, just because she dating with Luke. It would be much easier to hate her, but I tried another street.

MY OTHER GARVEZ STORIES

WAITING FOR YOU

 -I can't do it. I'm not joking, I can't do it.- the woman brings a hand to her mouth. -I feel sick.- she feels her stomach mumble as if it were protesting too. A female hand is resting on her shoulder. She immediately takes it with hers.

-Of course, you can do it! It's normal that you feel like that. But remember that you aren't alone. And then, he loves you too much. Everything will be great, ok?- the woman dressed in white nods, but she isn't really convinced. And her friend knows it, but she also knows that nothing she'll do or say will succeed in the task of making change her mind. Only when she'll finds herself before the altar, next to the man she'll love for the rest of her life, perhaps, she'll yield and enjoy only the moment.

-Girls, how it's going? We are only waiting for the bride.- she exchanges a glance with the other, standing behind the future Mrs. Alvez. She nods and approaches. -Come on, Luke will not be able to resist for a long time. You know that if you don't move, he'll come in person and pick you up. You know he can!- all three burst out laughing, but one of them doesn't hide her nervousness.

-I already tried, JJ. She's a lost cause.-

 **

Two years before

The blonde woman carefully observes every type of tea present on the shelf. She tries to take stock mentally the tests, she already has, to decide what will be the chosen one, the next to enter and occupy a space in her sanctuary. -Penelope?- hearing called, she turns, pretty surprised. She doesn't recognize the voice and it's strange even to be called by name. As soon as she sees her, however, she understands who is. -You're Penelope Garcia, Luke's coworker, right?- caught. She can no longer pretend not to have noticed her.

-Yes. And you are Lisa.- how to forget that name? She hopes that externally Lisa doesn't see that she is trembling inside. -You love tea, too?- as usual, she came out with a stupid question. But in silence, when she's anxious, she just can't stay.

-No, but my best friend, yes and soon will be her birthday, so...- the brunette shrugs and approaches. Penelope had already sensed the first time she had met her, how beautiful she was, but so, dressed in simple casual clothes, the woman's beauty stands out even more. She looks like one of those that don't need tricks or other accessories, to shine. Unlike her. -I see you're an expert, would you give me some advice?- she nods even if she would like to get out of this place as soon as possible.

-What is your friend's tests? Because it has just come out a new infusion, experimental, but it depends on whether it is one that appreciates strong tastes, or not... - she raises the box and shows it to her. Lisa watches it carefully, reads the ingredients and then she smiles, approving the blonde's suggestion.

-It seems perfect!- even his smile is sincere and spontaneous. -Thank you, Penelope...can I call you Penelope?- she stops, looking uncertain. -Luke told me that the whole team calls you Garcia, but I'm not from the team and I always thought it was weird to call people by their last name...- Penelope tries not to jump when she hears that name, but she has to get on with it though. Now he and Lisa are a couple (probably, he didn't say anything at work). But she chuckles when the other woman starts a rant, very similar to hers. It's impossible not to find her nice, that's why Alvez is so taken by her.

-I really didn't do anything... and yes, of course you can call me Penelope. In reality, in the team we call each other by our last names... a stupid way to pretend to keep the distance, when in reality we are a family. But he'll have told you this... Luke, I mean.- damn it, she said that name, this time.

They start heading to the checkouts and Penelope insists on paying everything, so they'll load more points on her loyalty card and they get a discount; just outside, she'll can give her her part, if she really insists. Even Lisa is positively impressed by the blonde, who this time wearing a dress much soberer and less colorful, although she doesn't have a physical to appear on the covers of Vogue, stands out for her so overwhelming personality. It's impossible not to feel good in her company. This explains why so many times Luke mentions her name when they talk about a newly solved case.

-In fact...- she starts talking as they walk each one with their own bag in hand. -Luke doesn't tell me anything. It's also a bit unnerving...- the blonde curses this turn of conversation. She absolutely doesn't want to talk about him, she doesn't think she's able to pretend that she feels nothing for him, without making a fool of herself, to say nonsense, to make her understand that, heck, he's not just a colleague. But then she looks up and meets the big ones so strangely insecure of the brunette. With that aspect, no one would imagine that she could feel uncertainty. She seems one of those who have a host of men behind drooling for her, one in high school was the most desired, one that plays the part of the bad and ignorant in the TV series. Instead, she knows very well that Lisa graduated in medicine, very active on the social front. In short, perfect.

-Well... Luke- dammit, she called him again by name. -...it's like that even at work. Always withdrawn. He's a reserved guy.- she tries to reassure her. -You just have to give him some time and you'll see that he'll open by himself.- Lisa nods, then they arrive in front of a car in much better conditions than Penelope's.

There is a moment of silence and embarrassment. -Penelope... by chance, you maybe want to get to go grab some coffee?- she looks at the strange expression of the blonde. -Or a tea.- both laugh at her proposal. -I would like to know better someone who is part of Luke's life... I often feel like a stranger...- this sudden fragility upsets the computer technician even more.

-Sure, willingly.- she finds herself answering. -But I'm not the most suitable person to talk to... it would probably be better if you talk to Matt, JJ or Rossi...- she mocks. -The only subject I'm prepared for, is Roxy.- Penelope's eyes light up as she says the dog's name.

-Really? Yet when he tells me of the cases the colleague who mentions most is you. And from how I saw you two interact when you interrupted our... first date...- the blonde blushes and she's about to apologize, but Lisa makes her understand that there is no need. -...I thought you were great friends.- Penelope sighs as they enter a bar, order and sit at a table, one of the few free. How will she get out of this mess?

-Great friends? No!- too much emphasis. -Well, he's part of the family, yes, we're friends... but I gave him so much trouble, when he arrived. The fact is... that the one of which he had taken the place, Morgan... he was my best friend. And when he left... I was a bit out of my mind... more than usual, if you can believe it!- they both burst out laughing again. Then Penelope, almost seeing herself from the outside, makes a gesture that she hadn't programmed. She puts her hand on the darker one of the other woman. -But even in my state, I couldn't help but realize how he was a good person. He's a great guy, Lisa, I'm sure you'll be happy together. You're lucky.- she couldn't pretend more and even Lisa seems to understand it. -In addition, he has that adorable ball of fur next to him.- again Roxy it seems like the best way out.

-Yes, Roxy is really sweet. I would spend hours to caress her. All the stress accumulated during work seems to slip away as if by magic.- Penelope nods, feeling a tiny twinge in her stomach, or perhaps her heart. Yes, part of her had hoped to find out she'd managed to win Roxy as much as she did. A stupid and selfish thing. The brunette seems to notice the veil of sadness appeared in the eyes of the other, but probably she believes that it's due to the reference to work. After all, they both see ugly and sad things. -You said that Luke wasn't your type, when we met.- it's just a way to change the subject and lighten the atmosphere, but the blonde feels anxiety grow. -So, what's your ideal type? I'm just curious.- Penelope's mind is completely foggy, she tries to think of something sensible, but nothing comes. It's a situation she's not used to.

Then she pulls out her cell phone and looking for a photograph of Sam, her last boyfriend, and shows it to her. -This is Sam. He taught me how to play the ukulele and the clarinet.- thinking back to the episode in the elevator, when Luke had thought wrong about hearing her saying "fingering techniques", she smiles. -He's a vet, he loves animals. In fact, it's for that reason that I fell in love with him.- she scroll through the photos until she find the one of a black cat. -This is Sergio. He's my real life partner for a few years.- she caresses the picture with her thumb, then the screen turns to black.

-Wow, he is beautiful! And Sam sounds nice either...- she gives her a wink. Lisa's voice is mischievous. Then the face of the brunette lights up suddenly. -What if we all went out together one night?- Penelope knows she should answer negatively. First of all, she and Sam are no longer together, although it seems that Lisa didn't understand it. Secondly... spending hours watching Luke flirt with another woman are too much for her heart too. Finally, it'll surely be terribly embarrassing.

And despite all these thoughts, what she does is accept.

 -Hello.- she approaches the man, she puts her hands on his shoulders and gives him a gentle kiss. She sees him smile as she squints her eyes. -How was your day? You put a few criminals behind bars?- he wraps his arms around her waist, enjoying her scent.

-Someone.- but he doesn't want to think about the case they have faced. They managed to save only the last child and he'll never forget the eyes of the less fortunate parents. -And you, Dr. Douglas? Did you saved some lives?- he imitates the non-serious tone of her, who moves away with a playful push and puts a hand on her side, putting herself in a seductive position.

-Yes obviously! But I wanted to talk to you about something else...- Luke feels the danger in the air. -You know that I should have bought that tea for Marika, that soon is her birthday, right?- he nods. -I went to that place that Phil advised me. And... you'll never guess who I met.- her lips are folded into a smug smile. -You're never going to know who is. Not even with your profiler skills.- he really wants to show her that she's wrong.

-Are you sure?- he asks, approaching until she finishes with her legs against the couch and he forces her to sit almost, looking down on her, from a dominant position. -First: judging from the way you talk and from that cheeky smile, it's someone I know- Lisa snorts and he realizes he's right. -Second: too much enthusiasm. If it were your ex you would have presented this differently, trying to make me jealous. You're that kind of woman.- she opens her mouth wide, pretending to be indignant. -You know what I meant, Lisa, don't play the stupid. You're not at all.- he immediately regained points. -So, it's a woman. That I know. One of my colleagues.- she watches him sit next to her on the sofa, immediately joined by Roxy and caresses the dog to vent her frustration.

-How did you do? I practically didn't say anything!- the man puts his arm around her shoulders.

-I'm a profiler, baby. I can't help but read in people's behavior. And then I still haven't said the name. I could be wrong.- he smiles as she approaches to kiss him again. -Do you want to know my hypothesis?- he whispers softly, his lips wet from hers. She nods. Luke sighs and suddenly seems to no longer want to joke. -Garcia.- he says, only. -JJ hates tea, never drinks it. Prentiss it's more the coffee type, black coffee, with very little sugar. And Tara... no, she's not the type either. Garcia, on the other hand, she is madly in love with tea, before any case she drinks at least one cup and my nose is clogged with all those strange aromas. I don't even want to know what some contain.- Lisa shakes her head, still annoyed at having lost. She's a tough girl and probably he likes her for that. -Come on, I was joking! She is my only colleague you met. She was the only one you could meet.- something doesn't convince her, but she decides to surrender. She has an important thing to say to him.

-Anyway- and the look that he launches at him is a clarification that this story isn't over. -I met Penelope - it is strange to hear her mention the name of the blonde informatics -and we talked a bit. She's really a wonderful person, now I understand why you mention her so often. I couldn't understand before, that thing about her jokes or why she dress like that, but now I know.- while her girlfriend describes Garcia, the man nods and when she points out how much he talks about the last, he blushes, but Lisa doesn't notice it.

-Yes, Garcia is... Garcia.- he couldn't say more. He feels a lump in his throat and realizes that if that node melts, then he couldn't stop the flow of words and thoughts. Better to continue to deny. Sooner or later everything will vanish.

-Yes, and we got along so good that... I asked her if she wanted to do a four-way.- she immediately understands that Luke has misunderstood. -But not in that sense, maniac!- she hits him with a weak fist on the arm, but bursts out laughing in turn. Not even in this case she notices the tension that has completely gripped the man's body. -I suggested her to go out together one evening, you, me, she and Sam.- his shoulders stiffen even further, hearing that name for the first time. And now, who the hell is this Sam? Because, of course, the thought that Garcia could find a man like him had found Lisa didn't even pass through the antechamber of his brain. It was much more comforting to believe that she would remain the support of the team forever. The woman notices his confusion. -Sam, Penelope's boyfriend. Don't tell me you've never talked about it.- he doesn't answer. -Anyway, she accepted.- Luke starts coughing as hard as he can and is forced to drink a whole glass of water before he calms down. -Are you okay, honey?- he feels Lisa's hand stroke his shoulder.

-Yes... Something just went down my throat.-

 The blonde woman hesitates for the umpteenth time before pressing the send button. In the end, she is forced to yield. The alternative is to let Lisa know the truth or blow up the appointment with an excuse. But, without understanding the reason, she doesn't want to disappoint her. Surely, she'll be part of the life of Luke, Agent Alvez, for a long time, so getting along is the best solution. She wouldn't be able to hate her even if she were an evil witch.

A minute later, while she is washing her only plate and Sergio's bowl, the phone starts ringing. She looks at the name on the display and the heart stops. She lets it ring a little longer, then she responds. -Sam?- she walks around the room as when she is particularly agitated.

-Penelope, what's going on? Something serious, I shouldn't be worried?- she shakes her head and then remembers he can't see her.

-No, no, nothing serious, just... if you had a moment, five minutes, I'd rather talk to you in person.- she expects the man to answer negatively, maybe to go her to hell. They break up more than a year ago and they are very little in touch, even if they got along just like friends. Theirs wasn't an overwhelming love story, but a rational and balanced relationship between two people who love each other.

-Ok, just give me ten minutes... you always live in the usual place?- it almost upsets her, to think about the usual place. Where she almost risked dying. She probably should have moved a long time ago.

-No, I send you the address.- while talking with the other hand she has already sent the necessary information to her ex. -Done. All right, I'll wait for you.-

 **

 He was no longer able to sleep, after she broke off the blockbuster they were watching to exclaim, super enthusiastic, that Penelope had get a green light from Sam. The double-date would have been done. Surely the best choice was to keep a low profile, pretend it's nothing and resign that now everything was decided. Luke himself was aware of this, but when he sees the blonde woman, give him the back while preparing her usual weirdness, he just can't resist.

-Hey.- he greets her and she jumps for the scare. He comes up to join her, to fill a cup of coffee. She looks at him from the corner of her eye.

-Good morning.- but when their eyes meet, the woman immediately understands what he wants to talk to her. However, she decides to continue to interpret the part of the one that knows nothing.

-So... you and Lisa?- it seems that he too is embarrassed to deal with that subject. -I didn't think you'd ever say yes. Do you realize you'll have to endure my presence for a whole night?- Penelope rolls her eyes and snorts, then gives him a boost to push him away, feeling him too close. Luke feels a chill different from those he felt when Lisa had done the same action.

-I'm aware of it, Alvez . But is really hard to say no to your girlfriend. She was so enthusiastic that I was obliged to say yes. I did it just for her, that this is clear in your mind?- she puts a few tablespoons of sugar and then mixes, moving away from the stove and move on a table. It seems that the others haven't yet arrived, except for Emily who will surely already be in the office studying a new case. He follows the sinuous movement of her hips, hoping not to have too embarrassing expression printed on his face. So, he reaches her. -Joking aside, Lisa is really a nice person. She is nice and always smiles, her smile is contagious.- almost the same words used by the brunette to describe her. -She loves Roxy.- she looks at him seriously. -This is a fundamental thing.- he nods, just as serious and decisive. The moment is interrupted by a familiar sound for both. -There's a case.-

 **

 The man looks around, hands in his pockets. He sighs, and his breath creates a cloud of condensation. Watch the hour flashing in a building next to the restaurant where he hopes he can get in early. He's one of those chilly people who can get cold feet even in the summer. A counter-sense, since he is a male, but still the truth. Penelope's hands have always been warmer than his. It seems strange to think of her, but a smile is painted on his lips. Then he sees a very attractive brunette woman heading towards him. Surely there will be someone behind him, she can't want to talk to him. Instead she stops right in front of him.

-Sorry, I would not bother you, but, is not that, by chance, you are Sam, Penelope's boyfriend?- he likes how sounds that title. But he immediately understands that she is Lisa, the girlfriend of Penelope's colleague, as a result... he is ruined. He'll never succeed in holding the game, he doesn't know how much she said about them, they didn't have time to get their act together. He starts to cold sweat, but he is forced to nod.

-Yes, I'm. You must be Lisa, right? Nice to meet you.- he holds out his hand and notes that hers is delicate and almost as cold as his.

-Me too.- she smiles, becoming even more beautiful. But she still doesn't reach the Penelope levels. -Have you got any news of your girlfriend? Luke hasn't answered me for over an hour...- Sam shakes his head.

-No, Penelope hasn't even let me know anything. But it's normal, they will be concluding the case. Don't worry, trust me.- he smiles at her, trying to reassure her.

-I trust. Surely, you have experienced a situation like this many time more than me. You can say that you're almost a veteran!- the man nods, but the only thing he thinks is Where are you, Penelope? I will not last long without saying one of my stupid things.

 The blonde type quickly a text, but she is forced to stop. She takes off her glasses, closes her eyes and massages her temples. The man watches her movements in passing, not losing sight of the road. -I'm sorry, I wish I could drive slowly, but we are in tremendous delay.- he says, feeling the desire to touch her, at least her hand, to strengthen his words. Obviously, he doesn't do anything. -You need to stop? We can always warn them that all bets are off. Or your boyfriend is one of those who get angry for the slightest thing?- he ventures, repenting immediately.

-Who, Sam? No, let alone. He is the most patient person I know, he is used to our schedule. And I think Lisa would understand too. But I don't want to disappoint them. We have only one hour late. - the truth is that she wants to get rid of this problem as soon as possible. She can’t go on pretending to be engaged with Sam forever. He too has a life to carry on. This thing must be done tonight.

Luke can't understand why Garcia behaves that way, but basically if there's a person whose behavior he has never really read, apart from understanding that she didn't really hate him, it's her. -We have to go first to your house, do you need to change your dress?- stop at a red light, he tries not to stare her neckline.

-Why, Alvez, you don't think it looks nice?- she answers in a firm tone, turning towards him and giving him a few more inches of her skin. Her gaze is a challenge, but the man falters as he passes his eyes back and forth on the body of his partner.

-No...- he answers sincerely. -You're beautiful.- he exclaims sincerely. However, she doesn't give too much weight to the compliment.

-And, Sam always told me that he finds me beautiful with heels as with slippers and pajamas.- a pang of pure jealousy stabs the man who press a little too much on the accelerator, making her toss. And he isn't at all wrong, Luke thinks, trying to breathe normally and proceed at a more constant speed.

It's a strange thing to think that their partners are waiting for them, together and they are coming together. As if the pairs were reversed. For a second, he tries to put his arm around her waist, then shakes his head, a moment before parking. Lisa doesn't deserve this, not even being betrayed by thought. Penelope is just a chimera, a dream that will soon fade away. He opens the door for her, but she doesn't thank him and doesn't even wait for him. He has to hurry to reach her and first he takes another bit of that view. The movement of her hips is so sensual... No, Luke, come back to earth. You're about to meet her boyfriend.

-Baby, you finally arrived!- next to his girlfriend there is a tall man, quite present, not bad enough for his taste, not as much as he wanted. While those thoughts arise, he denies them. It is selfish behavior to wish that she doesn't have someone to make her happy. Garcia instead had only beautiful words for Lisa, but of course, she doesn't feel anything for him.

-Hey, you did it!- he tries to concentrate on the welcome kiss she is giving him, but he can't help but eavesdrop on the exchange of words between the other couple. Baby. It gives him so much trouble to hear a man call her that. Again, Luke. Stop that. As soon as he separates he sees the bright face of his colleague and the arm around her waist in very possessive way. He can, you not. You have Lisa, what else should you wish for? Focus on her. It's easier to think of it than to do it. The other approaches him, not letting her go and grasping his hand.

- I'm Sam, nice to meet you.- the lucky one is unaware of what he really thinks of him, but he gets a taste of this, by the way he returns the grip, a bit too strong.

-Luke.- his other hand in Lisa's. -We can get in? I'm starving.- he would have said any stupid thing to start this evening, so as to finish it as soon as possible. Lisa sits next to him and the other couple profiteer to them, i.e. Sam in front of his girlfriend and Garcia... in front of him. The nightmare has just begun.

When ordering, Penelope can't help but underline the fabulous gesture made by Sam, the choice to become a vegetarian, thanks to the immense love that he feels for her. He wants to throw up but pretends that's nothing and returns Lisa's sincere smile.

-So... you and Sam how long have you been together?- Luke pours the first of many glasses. It will be a tremendous evening. But he doesn't seem the only one uncomfortable. Even Garcia seems strange, her smiles appear forced or too exaggerated, even for her. She continues to make shrill giggles and touch her boyfriend's arm. The latter instead seems perfectly comfortable, like Lisa (of course, he has her next to him), in paradise. He can't help but realize he is a brilliant man. And surely this is the reason if Penelope loves him.

The thought is too strong and makes him jump, he stretches a bit too much his leg and ends up against the knee of Garcia, who notices but is limited to a strange look. Anyway, it's Sam who answers, like almost at all the questions. Practically the two federal agents are bystanders, they witness the conversation between their halves, intervening very rarely. -From 2014. It's almost four years, do you believe it, lovely?- he caress her on the cheek and takes her hand. Luke grinds his teeth, but no one notices.

-No, it doesn't seem possible to me.- she replies, blushing when he tries to feed her. The Latin Agent wants to be able to do the same with Lisa, but he just can't do it, he's not that kind of person and... he doesn't want to make things even worse by using her. She's perfect, Garcia has also said it, but the problem is... not for him.

And as he walks with Lisa, hand in hand, he understands that he can no longer continue like this. She deserves to know the truth.

 **

 The day hadn't started normally. As soon as he set foot in the BAU, he realized that there was something strange in the air. He had immediately recognized the two female voices and involuntarily, had begun to listen. Luke didn't believe that he could be in seventh heaven and underground at the same time, but apparently, he was wrong. -I feel like a worm, JJ, for how I treated it. But if I don't love him anymore, what can I do? I told him it didn't make sense to continue this farce and he... you should have seen his face. He took it so hard... I'm so sorry! If I could, I would force myself to love him, it would all be much simpler. But I can't deny what I feel or don't feel.- her friend tried to comfort her, told her it wasn't her fault, that she had done the right thing.

Sam and Penelope had broken up.

 Fortunately, the case wasn't particularly complex, and they didn't even have to use the jet. Penelope didn't miss a beat, her indications arrived at the right time and were always decisive. But he still noticed a slight difference. And after confronting Lisa and resolving that question peacefully, he understands that he must find the strength to settle this matter too. Plus, he needs to know if she's okay. She may have forgotten his words, but he didn't. He still wants to be the someone she wants to go to when she's crying.

He walks in the corridor to Garcia's room, but a sound he has heard before stops him. Sobs. She is crying. So, maybe, the story with Sam was really important to her. And surely, he isn't the best person to help her right now. Not with half heart that exults.

He decides to enter anyway, because he can't leave her alone to cry. But he is stopped again, this time by her weak voice, while she seems to talk to someone. But she is alone. The others have all gone home, it's sure.

-I have... I have to stop crying. It's useless. It went like this now. I should have told Lisa the truth, so I wouldn't have been forced to... - another series of excruciating sobs. He doesn't know what keeps him from running to her. In reality, he knows very well: to discover a truth that almost certainly she wouldn't be willing to tell him consciously. He raises his ears when he hears his ex-girlfriend mentioned. -Why I can't love Sam, God, why?- that's who is her interlocutor. -Everything would be so simple. He's such a good person. He loves animals. Theater and music. We get along so good... it's perfect. And so why? Why he doesn't make my legs shake? Why I don't feel that burning desire to see him, to be with him?- again to Luke it seems to be on the roller coaster. A moment he is in paradise and the one afterhell, because he understands that what makes him happy is the same thing that saddens Penelope. And he hates immensely himself for this.

-What I have always wanted is a man like those lives in comics, books, cinema. One willing to fight anything, just to have me. And I can't imagine Sam in that dress.- another round of wiping nose and sobs. -Why right him? Why I have to imagine myself... I don't even want to mention him. I must not. I must be strong. He chose another one, and she is a wonderful person. She's beautiful, but this isn't enough. She is also nice, sweet, playful. And Roxy has approved her.- he doesn't have time to realize that she is talking about Lisa, therefore about him, because his thoughts are overwhelmed by a lacerating noise. -It's over, I have to resign myself. All those looks, those jokes, the nicknames, the flirting... it was all for fun.- he would like to shout at her that it's not like that, but he understands that there was still something she had to say and that he must hear. -When I saw him, the first time, with her... I couldn't believe it. But it was absurd, that one like him was single. I wish I could hate her, but I know it wouldn't be right. I would like to have the strength or the courage to leave, to leave everything, to see if at least he notices me or if he doesn't care. Or at least I would like to be able to treat him in a cold, different way. Make him understand that the light went out in my eyes. And it will not turn back on again.- it's really the final sentence, because he hears a strange noise, like a beeps and then only sobs.

He no longer waits for anything else to stop him and opens the door. She is in the chair, glasses on the desk. In her hands she holds an anti-stress kitten. When she hears that someone has entered, she doesn't even raise her head. -Penelope.- she recognizes the voice and understands that, because he doesn't call her Garcia, he must have heard at least a part of what she said. But she can't even chase him away, ask him to leave or pretend not to be crying, like that time more than a year ago. She lets him approach, so he can observe with his own eyes how love for him has reduced her. -Penelope, please don't cry...- he whispers softly, but from the cracked tone he seems to be on the point of even pouring a certain amount of salty tears.

No, don't cry, I can't stand your tears, I will never... because if you're happy... every smile is gold, and in the distance, I forgive you and I implore you...

She feels his breath on her neck, sees the shadow of him on her. She allows him to turn the chair in his direction, to take her face in his hands, to look at her for a long time and even to embrace her. But she remains motionless, like a statue or a lifeless puppet, in the arms of the man she loves. She doesn't stop his caresses on her back or the sweet and comforting words, standard, which he tells her. But she doesn't stop crying either. -Please, Penelope, stop it. You're killing me!- now yes, she's sure, he's crying too. She feels the hot, salty tears, running down her back, who knows how they managed to cross the threshold of the sweater. Still, she doesn't expect what he is about to do. That, she would certainly not have allowed him. And I love you so much, that, for those sweet eyes I can only feel bad and taken those lips and then kiss you in the sun, because I know how bad the lack of a smile is, when we get distance, it disappears from your face and it's... scary...

Luke takes her face in his hands and lays his lips on those of the blonde, who for the shock holds both eyes open, but manages to pull away from him only after at least thirty seconds. Too many, for her tormented heart and her confused head. -Why on earth would you do that? I don't want the mercy of any man, especially if engaged!- she moves away, stands up and reaches the opposite side of the room.

Luke shakes his head and in a flash he is near her again. Penelope feels powerless. She doesn't know how to get rid of him. -I've just had a few dates, with Lisa.- he starts saying, with the aim of explaining that in any case he's again a free man. Like her. But she pushes him even more abruptly.

-This is not my business.- she exclaims, her tone so wounded and disappointed that he doesn't hold back.

-I think so...- he can only say, before laying once again the lips on those of his colleague. So soft, tasty. But it's not just this. The heart seems to fly. He feels soft legs and an extreme euphoria. The desire to cry, laugh, scream. It's a very light kiss, almost like if they were teenagers; on their lips, the salty taste of the tears that both have shed. Squinting his eyes, he realizes that those of her are wide open, again. Why she can't let go herself? Yet, she said she loves him. Not to him, but she said it.

-What were you thinking?- as soon as he lets her go, she talks up a blue streak. Anger in her eyes. -You are engaged with a woman and do this with another?- she shakes her head. -Then you're worse than I thought.- the discomfort that she feels is so great that for a moment paralyzes him. But then he understands that he can't allow her to start thinking wrong about him again. He can't lose such a precious stone that already has his name engraved inside. Not by negligence.

-Please, Penelope, believe me. There was nothing important between me and Lisa. Not that I didn't try, I'm honest. But the most significant event was a pool game. I love her, but we're wrong to each other.- she doesn't seem entirely convinced, but allows him to hold her hands, which is a good sign.

-You told Matt that she is beautiful...- he nods and steals her word.

- ...smart, funny...- he ends for her, making a mental note to talk to Matt to teach him to hold his tongue. -She is so. But with her, that spark has never been lit. She never made shake my legs...- he wonders if she recognizes who this quote comes from. He gets closer until she is forced to place both hands on his chest, to block him, before he can try again some risky gesture. -And she didn't replace you in Roxy's heart.- he hesitates, but he decides to say the other half, seeing how the face of Penelope illuminates at this declaration. - And not even in mine - but she just can't trust him, it's too early. The pain in her chest is still so strong, it can't disappear like magic. So, they are still embraced, only tight, this time to each other, even her arms wrapped around Luke's muscular body, she starts crying again and he strokes her back and that's it, no one talking.

Then, all of a sudden, she comes off and pushes him away again. -Yes... it's too late, Luke.- what he never wanted to hear. -I can't, I can't... I don't know, I can't do it.- she wipes the last tears with her hands and throws them away.

-But... I only went out with a woman!- he can't give up.

-I know, but... I don't know what I thought. Why I was deluded into being special, how could I have convinced myself that we would end up together, that it was only a matter of time, why I wanted to convince myself that it was our destiny.- she laughs. A bitter laugh. - I was so stupid, so immensely stupid!- it hurts him even more to hear her insulting herself. But the worst is yet to come. -I didn't think I would be able to suffer more than the death of my parents and the departure of Derek. But it happened.- she whispers the last sentence softly. Hoping he doesn't hear it. -Why I allowed myself to fall in love with you? Why?- he tries to kiss her again and for the umpteenth time she rejects him.

-Not, I've already told you! I don't want your alms, I don't want to pity you or that you have to do something for me... I'll be fine, ok? I'll be fine. I will not make you weigh, because I'll love you anyway, whatever you do, because you are now part of the family, because I can't do anything about it.- this declaration is really too heavy. If pure love exists, this is definitely a good example. Luke is overwhelmed by the immensity of the feeling that Penelope feels towards him. Probably nobody had loved him like that before, outside his parents. Maybe. -You should be with a person like Lisa. She's right for you, you both have been in the same places... she understand you perfectly.- he's just shaking his head. -She can help you...- the man doesn't find an alternative way to force her to keep quiet than pushing her against his chest, to welcome yet another fountain of tears.

-No, she's not suitable for me, she's not able to help me, it doesn't mean anything that we've been in such places.- he lifts her face, forcing her to look at him. -No one can understand me like you, Penelope. It's not pity, it's not compassion, I don't say this because I'm a good guy, but because it's the truth. Just watch you smile or see you or hear your voice while you talk about anything... makes my day better.- it's his turn of the kilometric declaration. -I'm in love with you and I would didn't have to be out with another woman, for understood this and finally found the courage to tell you this.- is the blonde, now, who moves her head in denial.

-I'm sorry too. Really. Because now I can't... I need time. My heart... is so wounded, that simple poetic words or knowing that I'm not indifferent to you, it's not enough anymore.- Luke nods, sighing with relief at having at least freed himself from that weight.

-Good, Penelope. I'm willing to wait for as long as you need.- another strong phrase. But who knows if he really is aware of the weight of what he says?

-Are you sure?- she asks, looking directly into his eyes. -Because I don't know how long it will take, it could be days, or maybe a month... or a year- she still feels compelled to warn him. -I have no idea. I don't ask you to wait for me.- she makes this clear.

Luke takes her hands in his. They are so cold, but less than Sam's. -I will wait for you anyway, even if it's forever. Because I love you, and after all, since I was born, I did nothing but wait, living wait to meet you.- this would be too much for anyone, even for her, that even a moment ago (hours, in reality) has asked to the Lord to imagine Luke in the role of her male co-star in the film (or book) of her life.

-Luke, do you realize what you say? Or have you only seen too many romantic films?- he reads the fear in her eyes. But he too is frightened by the strength of his feelings. He hasn't premeditated anything, he merely says what he feels.

-I know it's heavy words and no, I'm not telling you that, by chance, I really think so. I had two years to sculpt them in my heart. I don't mean that Lisa was a mistake or a phase, I would like to believe that she was more than that, she's a good person and deserves better. Someone who loves her as I love you. I'm sorry, I missed it again.- he almost manages to snatch a smile from her. -Please, Penelope, believe me. Tell me that you believe me.- with his extreme joy (but also surprise) she nods.

-I believe you. But now, it's better if you leave. When and if I'm ready, I'll let you know. Okay?- Luke nods, moves away towards the door, opens it and closes it, turns to her. He reaches her and takes her hands. Their lips very close.

May I?- he whispers and after a moment's hesitation, she nods. This could be considered as their first real kiss, because Penelope takes delight it as much as she does, finally letting go. But only for those few seconds. -See you again in the next case, Penelope.- the blonde woman can only nods.

 **

 Wait. Waiting is hateful. Tedious. Enervating. But it's better to live forever in doubt than to know and face a horrible truth that could destroy us?

In any case, Agent Alvez doesn't have much time to think about it, not as much as he thought he had.

He is trying to distract himself by carrying on with his work, when he hears the unmistakable sound of the blonde's heels signaling her entrance. He tries hard take not notice. He told her he wouldn't put pressure on her and intends to respect what he had promised. But those steps are getting closer and closer. A hand is resting on his shoulder. He would recognize that perfume everywhere. He finds himself on his feet and doesn't even have time to say hello. Those fleshy lips take possession of his, Penelope is kissing him, in broad daylight, in front of their colleagues and other federal agents. First the shock, mixed with joy. Then a little embarrassment. -But...- she motions him to silence.

-I told you that I didn't know how much time I'd need.- he replies with a shrug. He notices the smudged lipstick, which is now definitely on his mouth. -I elaborated in a hurry.- she smiles and in a moment he forget everything.

-I realized it.- she smiles in turn, the classic  fishy face thing while looking at her. They hear the giggles of others in the background. -With you there are no half measures! - he finally exclaims, trying to remember where they are.

-Exactly, Alvez . If you really want to be with me, you have to accept the complete package. And if you are ashamed to kiss me in front of my family, you should also when we are alone.- she clarifies, the serious and decisive tone that sends him so much joy.

-I'm not ashamed at all!- she challenges him with her eyes and this time he is grabbing her for life, capturing those saucy lips, that allow to question him. He manages to access her tongue and again, he forgets completely where they are and she too, despite someone (Rossi) tells them to get a room.

But it's the voice of the chief who brings them to reality. -I'm sorry to be forced to break the magic, but we have a case.- both blush, realizing that they had let themselves go a bit too much.

As they head for the meeting room, holding hands like two teenagers, he whispers in her ear See? I was right. Until the next case.- she giggles softly, shaking her head, before looking for the remote and coming back serious.

 ** Today

The woman observes her boyfriend, standing (though with the help of two crutches), next to their best friend and one of the most important people of her life in a day so special... but basically, she had always known that this moment would come. Luke and Penelope were destined to end together, it was only a matter of time. They were just too afraid to admit what they felt for each other... that's nothing new.

A bit like her and Phil. That fathead had even sent her into the arms of another, his best friend, to avoid addressing the fact that she, Lisa Douglas, could be seriously in love with him. No nurse syndrome. After Luke had explained that he couldn't think of her more than a friend, she had forced the ex-federal to wake up. He had to stop to feel sorry for himself and really open up to life, to what he could still reserve for him. After all, it was he who kissed her first, then regretted and threw her into the arms of handsome Latin. That he really was a perfect man. Nice, smart, sweet... and he had Roxy . But he wasn't Phil. And he had Lou.

And now, she too.

TAGS: @theshamelessmanatee @itsdawnashlie @talesoffairies @janiedreams88 @kiki-krakatoa @yessenia993 @teyamarra @c00lhandsluke  @gcchic @arses21434 @orangesickle @entireoranges @jarmin @kathy5654 @martinab26 @thisonekid @thenibblets @perfectly-penelope @ambrosiaswhispers @maziikeen92 @lovelukealvez @reidskitty13 @jenf42 @gracieeelizabeth27 @silviajajaja @smalliemichelle99 @charchampagne14 @ichooseno  @ megs2219 @rkt3357 @franklintrixie @thinitta @chewwy123 @skisun @maba84 @saisnarry @myhollyhanna23 @thenorthernlytes

[charlieharry1]

B2c hyper-personalisation examples b2b need to analyze from

We from time to time use affiliate links this means that that, at zero fee to you, we may also earn a commission in case you purchase something thru our links. Consistent with findings from ascend2, 62% of advertising professionals see hyper-personalisation as a crucial approach but most effective nine% have efficiently carried out it. Whilst this comes from a especially narrow consciousness institution, it’s backed up by way of the truth that only a few of our interactions with manufacturers  Digital Marketing Company Birmingham are personalised at all – let alone sufficient to get the “hyper” prefix. Hyper-personalisation is taking place, although, and its b2c brands which might be pushing the innovation on this department. But b2b marketers ought to be paying attention right here because there’s a genuine risk of being left behind in one of the maximum crucial marketing developments in recent years – one that might realise all the promises we’ve been hearing about big data for the past decade. What's hyper-personalisation? Hyper-personalisation makes use of artificial intelligence and large statistics to create tremendously-personalised reviews for customers. Whilst normal personalisation uses static data to insert customers’ names into emails or trade touchdown web page content material, hyper-personalisation compares your owned records with masses of 1/3-birthday party facts to make calculations. Basically, ai algorithms examine your users/leads with different on-line who display the identical hobbies and behaviours. While the proper fit is made, those algorithms can study the destiny actions different users took to are expecting what your consumer will react to sure messages. Source: ascend2

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 this indicates you’re able to address user wishes with a exceptionally small quantity of information. Higher but, you can address their desires earlier than they even know what they are. That is in which the leading b2c manufacturers are leading the way with hyper-personalisation and it’s time for b2b entrepreneurs to trap up. As you’ll see from the examples we’re searching at in this newsletter, hyper-personalisation doesn’t quit with the first sale. In fact, this advertising and marketing strategy really comes to life when you’ve got customers on board with the primary buy – especially when you have an account-primarily based enterprise structure. I’ll give an explanation for all of this in greater detail later. For now, simply take into account that hyper-personalisation makes use of ai and large data to enhance your lead technology efforts and it has even extra to provide in terms of customers retention and maximising customers price. What can b2b agencies do with hyper-personalisation? You simplest should examine what these days’s maximum revolutionary ecommerce manufacturers are doing with hyper-personalisation to see what b2b agencies can achieve with the era. For a few reason, hyper-personalisation hasn’t genuinely damaged out of the online retail region yet, but it’s most effective a be counted of time. Right here are a few sensible examples of what hyper-personalisation can do for b2b corporations:

 deliver ultra-relevant offers: to start with, hyper-personalisation permits you to target users with extremely-applicable messages and offers. As an example, you could evaluate customers’ buying behavior with thousands and thousands of other clients to make more accurate product hints or analyse pre-purchase behaviour to target some customers with money-off promotions and others with bulk-purchase discounts. Connect to users at every degree of the buying procedure: by way of evaluating your information with hundreds or millions of other customers, you can investigate how accurate your sales funnels are and pinpoint potential leaks that your very own records isn’t comprehensive enough to reveal. With those insights, you can then create highly-applicable messages and automate their transport to customers at each stage of the buying manner. Are expecting consumer actions: by analysing consumer movements at a mass scale, ai algorithms can expect destiny movements of other users. Basically, a positive sample of actions will factor closer to a destiny movement – eg: when a user looks at a sure aggregate of product pages, they commonly grow to be shopping for this product. So, if that’s now not the maximum profitable product they might be shopping for, what messages can you target them with to upsell them earlier than they even make the purchase? Create 100% customized patron studies: hyper-personalisation isn’t just a advertising approach; it’s a business philosophy and maximum of the examples we’ll be searching at later have built hyper-personalised products/services from the floor up – and to notable impact. Maximise consumer retention and lifelong price: that is where hyper-personalisation generally has the most effect. Via developing fairly-personal reports for character customers, you’re going get higher outcomes from pass-promoting and upselling campaigns, ensuing in ongoing purchases and expanded purchaser price. Construct logo loyalty: the greater non-public your customer enjoy becomes, the more potent your courting with every of them may be. Deal with their concerns on an person basis and that they’re going to feel so valued that it’s hard to assume doing commercial enterprise someplace else. What you’re additionally going to do is increase every purchaser’s funding to your emblem (cash, time, information, etc.), which successfully locks them into doing commercial enterprise with you (and not jogging off to your competitors). The ones are the key use cases of hyper-personalisation we’re searching at in this article and the best way to explain these in greater depth is by using searching at examples. Examples of hyper-personalisation in motion

there are a number of b2c businesses – specially inside the ecommerce area – which might be displaying that hyper-personalisation can attain. These principles shouldn’t be constrained to customer-oriented commercial enterprise, even though. B2b brands have simply as much to benefit from hyper-personalisation (and gain from these examples).

 #1: product suggestions

 the maximum common instance of hyper-personalisation is product hints – the kind of issue you spot on amazon. These are brought with the aid of ai recommendation engines that analyse mass purchaser records to identify purchase tendencies and offer hints based on what human beings with similar pastimes have offered. It’s essentially an ai improve to associated products, except the recommendations are primarily based on human pursuits in preference to honestly prompting humans to shop for similar products. You’ll also locate similar engines used on structures like netflix and spotify as they offer content material pointers to customers. Why does this paintings? In place of truely making pointers to users based totally on their very own buy history, artificial intelligence compares their histories to thousands and thousands of other consumers to locate extra advanced buy habits. Notably, this means greater correct recommendations. But the other key element is you can use those engines to target customers, even if their purchase history is incredibly brief, which would in any other case make it not possible to goal them with relevant guidelines. What can b2b brands research from this? B2b ecommerce brands can essentially reproduction and paste this approach into their very own income system. But, provider-oriented business can take the identical approach to goal customers with extra provider pointers, as long as the applicable 0. 33-birthday party records is accessible.

 #2: consumer account customisation

spotify’s music recommends are designed to preserve users engaged with the platform and ingesting content material however this isn’t the handiest manner it makes use of hyper-personalisation. In truth, i might argue the streaming app’s simplest use of the generation lies within the substantial person account customisation that’s made viable. Spotify encourages customers to create their own playlists, essentially constructing an entire library of tune on their account. Over the past ten years or so, i’ve step by step created hundreds of playlists with thousands of tracks assigned to my account – i couldn’t even wager what the actual numbers would be. Why does this matter? Because i will’t photograph the chance of ditching spotify and recreating the ones playlists on every other platform (or losing them altogether). I’ve invested manner too much time into spotify and, as a result, i’m locked into procuring a top rate account – quite fortunately, too. Any other form of hyper-personalisation that achieves this is move-platform syncing. The quality instance i'm able to think about is google in which all of my on-line pastime synced between chrome on one-of-a-kind devices, permitting me to get admission to the entirety i need at any time, on any tool. Certain, i want to punch myself for giving google all that records but it’s simply too rattling useful for me to recollect switching synchronisation off, not to mention transfer to another browser. Why does this work? The greater customers customize a bit of software program, the more non-public the enjoy will become – an enjoy that’s hard to discover or recreate some other place. The other key factor here is the amlint of time it can take for users to build their very own personalized revel in. Preferably, this can passed off step by step over the years so customisation doesn’t get in the manner of truly the usage of a platform. But, this time all adds up and a few minutes each day subsequently becomes hours (or even days’) worth of customisation that nobody is going to need to lose or repeat some place else. What can b2b brands learn from this? Any b2b software program company can take notes from the likes of spotify. The key aspect is to make customisation an intuitive a part of the usage of the software. Some distance too many software corporations implement customisation in a way that prevents clients from being capable of use their platform before matters are set up. Layout an revel in that encourages sluggish customisation and also you’ll lock users into your platform for the lengthy haul.

 #3: constructing personalized client stories from the ground up

some of the most remarkable examples of hyper-personalisation are from brands that flip it into a enterprise model. Instead of the usage of personalisation as a advertising strategy, stitchfix is hyper-personalisation. The complete premise of the startup is to provide customers with their personal personalise stylist who allows them choose the appropriate dresser for them. Users offer applicable facts approximately themselves – sizes, fashion preferences, preferred hues, etc. – and stitchfix analyses this records against the garb patterns of purchasers with comparable tastes. That’s now not all, although. Stitchfix additionally has a group of extra than 1000 human private stylists who examine person profiles and offer professional stylist recommendations. Users then recieve their recommendations within the post to strive for themselves and they most effective buy what they like. Human beings and machines, working collectively in harmony. As a end result, stitchfix can provide a without a doubt personalised consumer experience from the first actual interaction – and the provider best improves because it learns extra approximately man or woman customers. Why does this paintings? Stitchfix’s is constructed from the floor as much as deliver personalized stories that remedy a number of the most common troubles with shopping for garments on-line: length inconsistencies, now not being capable of attempt garments on, objects no longer matching collectively, and many others. Each client experience is specific and the great of hints improves over the years, because the platform learns extra about every consumer (records investment), which makes it increasingly hard for them to desert it. What can b2b brands study from this? There are plenty of b2b offerings that could undertake a comparable approach to stitchfix. For instance, business automation is a complicated concept for corporations to undertake and the correct answer is distinctive for each commercial enterprise. Ai tips blended with human expert recommendation ought to surely help businness choose which obligations to automate and the excellent equipment for each of them. Likewise, b2b shops in a wide variety of niches could create a comparable platform for the organizations and individuals who have to make complex buy alternatives. Specifically if those stores have an intensive variety of inventory to browse and pick out from or buy choices need to consider a complicated variety of factors (licensing, specifications, guidelines, and so on.).

 #4: resolve non-public problems

 care/of essentially makes use of the identical business version as stitchfix however, instead of supplying up style recommendation, it pursuits to clear up a far greater personal hassle. The homepage leads with the following message on its hero segment:

 take care of your strength, diet, stress, sleep… lifestyles

 all users need to do is take a short quiz and care/of creates a plan of vitamins and dietary supplements designed to assist them feel better and boost their normal health. This plan changes as humans development through their initial direction and their fitness reaches sure landmarks – all of that's logged inside the cellular app. Customers recieve new tips as their adventure progresses and the whole thing is one hundred% personalized to their particular desires. Why does this work? There’s nothing extra non-public than our personal health and care/of responds to this with the aid of developing a a hundred% personalised and private revel in that goals to improve fitness thru preventative measures. The agencies coverage of transparency and unbiased studies is also sincerely vital right here. We’ll display you the research and be transparent approximately how mounted it's far. We don’t faux all supplements have equal tiers of clinical evidence or traditional records — due to the fact that isn’t the reality. But we are able to continually display our paintings and tailor our guidance to you as an individual. It’s no longer the nutrients and suppliments that peplle are virtually shopping for into here. It’s the combined piece of thoughts and agree with thay they’re getting a carrier which has a really tremendous effect on their lives, based totally on their precise health requirements. That’s what makes this service so personal. What can b2b brands examine from this? Agencies don’t have private troubles in step with se however there’s truely this type of aspect as component enterprise fitness. Financial recommendation, insurance, felony useful resource, protection, marketing and all forms of other things are critical for retaining a healthful commercial enterprise and finding the proper combination of those individual businesses is much like compiling the correct nutrition and suppliments plan for human beings. Take an coverage company that offers enterprise protection, for instance. Companies need a huge range of cowl for public legal responsibility, administrative center accidents, property, commercial enterprise interruptions and any quantity of different rules. The sort of business, length of commercial enterprise, places, areas of operation, variety of employees, chance assessment, opportunity of public injury and all forms of other factors decide the mixture of coverage required and this will exchange as organizations develop, evolve, rebrand or applicable regulations alternate. B2b services that need to provide tailored applications like this may research loads from the care/of technique to hyper-personalisation.

 #5: make personal tales part of your emblem

again in 2015, easyjet embarked on a hyper-personalised advertising marketing campaign to rejoice its 20th anniversary. In a yr when the likes of ebay and ft. Com were additionally marking their 2oth birthday’s, easyjet’s campaign stood out above all of them because it positioned its customers at the heart of its very own celebrations. The multi-channel campaign became centred around tv and social media commercials featuring pictures from easyjet clients on their travels over the previous two decades. The company later printed those pix onto the aspect of one in every of its planes and compiled curated “pinnacle 20” lists and journey publications from its customers. Loads have brands have tried to make the most of person-generated personalisation in latest years and lots of have failed spectacularly. But, easyjet nailed this with its anniversary marketing campaign by way of aligning its enterprise journey with the fine and maximum memorable moments its clients have loved from its offerings. This marketing campaign wasn’t simply approximately easyjet; it changed into about its customers and this is what the stop consumer wants to see from hyper-personalisation. Why does this paintings? Vacations are quite personal first of all and we have a tendency to closely invest ourselves in our recollections of beyond journeys and destiny tour plans. There’s a actual electricity in the idealistic escapism we partner with travel and easyjet performed a primary position in making those memories feasible for such a lot of human beings. The airline become a number of the pioneers of low-budget flights throughout europe, which spread out the tour enterprise to folks who never might were able to come up with the money for such journeys – or as lots of these journeys in their lifetime. At the same time as there are plenty of holes to poke inside the customer service added through low-price range airways, without the likes of easyjet many of humans’s most precious life recollections actually in no way might have happened – and that’s a powerful message for a organization like easyjet to have on its facet. These days, we take the benefit of tour as a right but easyjet’s personalised marketing campaign reminds its customers (and every person else that sees these commercials) that their favored vacations might not have been viable without the corporation – and it does this with the aid of setting them at the centre of the marketing campaign itself. What can b2b manufacturers study from this? The real motive of easyjet’s marketing campaign became showcasing what the employer has executed for its clients – no longer collectively, however on an individual foundation. Any b2b brand can take notes from this campaign even though easyjet had a golden aid that many businesses don’t have such smooth get right of entry to to. The important thing to this marketing campaign changed into the vacation pics easyjet clients had taken on their travels. The ones precious recollections, as soon as-in-a-lifetime reports and idyllic locations we all dream of going lower back to one day. The satisfactory part of easyjet is humans certainly take these pix once they travel – the content was there, equipped and watching for it. Your regular b2b emblem likely isn’t going to be inside the identical function wherein such emotive photographs and reports related to their emblem are obviously captured by clients. In case you’ve were given them, remarkable – use them. In any other case, you may create an environment wherein landmarks are celebrated. For example, think about a business control software program platform that facilitates business proprietors set desires and attain them. Each of those achieved goas is a landmark that may be celebrated with badges, factors, ratings and other measurements that are displayed in the software platform, constantly reminding users of the progress they’ve made with this piece of software. This progress may be compiled into month-to-month and every year email campaigns, displaying customers what they’ve accomplished all through these timeframes. Similar to the benefit of modern-day journey, it’s clean to take without any consideration how lots we’ve used a software platform over the years and what sort of we’ve truely achieved with it. Those campaigns display customers the actual value of a service and what they wouldn’t have controlled to achieve with out it. Psychology tells us humans the loss of some thing they already very own extra than gaining some thing of the identical price that they don’t very own (loss aversion). Campaigns like this are extraordinarily powerful in relation to consumer retention. And, similar to easyjet did, you could collect more than one client memories into a branding campaign and attain out to new audiences while putting your existing clients inside the spotlight. Time for b2b manufacturers to get hyper-personal

as you could see from the examples we’ve checked out in this newsletter, hyper-personalisation can bring brands and potentialities/clients collectively in simply significant methods. Whilst its b2c stores who're driving the innovation in this place, agencies of all kinds have a lot  Digital Marketing Agencies in Oxford to benefit from constructing these styles of relationships and it’s time for b2b manufacturers to start enforcing hyper-personalisation as a key advertising strategy.

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[whoacanada]

Hazing

Summary: Jack’s history with hazing is not a pleasant one, and he’s not about to continue the tradition at Samwell. The decision has nothing to do with Eric Bittle.

Pairings: pre-Jack/Bitty; Past Kent/Jack

Warnings: flashbacks to Juniors, implied dub-con situation, locker room talk, vague-ish descriptions of aggressive hazing rituals. Longer description in the A/N at the end.

_____

Now:

It’s the third time they’ve had this discussion and Jack is tired of having to explain himself. Again, he ticks off the points on his fingertips. 

“Underwear stays on. No naked obstacle course. No dare-or-dare.”

Shitty huffs and kicks his legs off the bed in a mock tantrum. “You’re making this really fuckin’ hard, Jackie. At this rate, even the swim team is going to have a more hardcore initiation than us. They do brunch, Zimmermann. BRUNCH. We have a reputation to uphold: Epikegster and Hazeapalooza are the highlights of the fucking year. SMH needs two legs to stand on, Jack. Deux jambes, bro.”

“I don't care about the lacrosse team, or the swim team, or any team except this one, and the men’s hockey team shouldn't be known for hazing.”

“It's not hazing, it's Hazeapalooza, it’s fun.” Shitty furrows his brow. “Wait, wait, wait -- what about the kidnapping? It’s tradition.”

Jack shakes his head. “Not this year. Not with Bittle. Not with his history.” 

Shitty huffs like a bull, but acquiesces. “Yeah, suppose blindfolding Bitty and tossing him into a Uhaul with a bunch of drunk naked bros might be a bit much.”

“We don't want to traumatize him. Any of them.”

“That’s the last fucking thing we need.” Shitty gripes, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright, I’ve got some ideas, they might be hella-fucking-lame without Lards’ creative input, but something’s better than nothing.”

_________

Then:

Jack remembers spending the night before his 16th birthday bare-assed at center ice with the rest of the Oceanic rookies. It’s not a pleasant memory by any stretch of the imagination.

Before he left Montreal, his father told him to always expect some kind of hazing ritual with a new team - even winked as he warned him not to drink too much and have fun. Bond with the boys.

Jack remembers wondering what the hell kind of initiations his father went through that he could joke about it after; or if it was just another example of something he couldn’t handle as well as Bad Bob.

Someone pours a bottle of water on him and his feet stick against the ice. They make him drink until he can barely stand. Grab him. Mock him. Scream at him so loud his ears ring.

Logically, Jack knows it’ll end soon, but he’s drunk, he’s tired, and all the wrong receptors are firing in his brain. He needs his medication. He wants to cry. Maybe he does, because someone hurls a slur and Girard brings up that decades old tabloid rumor about Bad Bob cruising gay bars.

When they ask if sucking dick runs in the family, Jack chokes back the urge to vomit. He saw what they made Anders do after he threw-up, Jack’s not about to risk the same torment. 

Then, they turn on Parse, his new billet-mate and almost friend.

Kent, the American who laughs at Jack’s bad jokes and pretends he doesn’t cry at night because he’s homesick. Kent, who is kind, and short, and makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches. Kent, who has freckles on his chest and a little mole on his hip that Jack tries so hard not to peek at when they change after practice. Kent, who might actually like Jack for Jack and who doesn’t deserve any of this.

Jack thinks it’s almost over, pushing two am with practice less than six hours away, but he’s wrong; and like most things in Jack’s life, it gets worse before it gets better.

____

They don’t talk about it after, even if the guys dance around the subject with suggestive chirps and pointed looks. They all get to play nice now, because the rookies have earned their stripes, and Jack’s proved he’s worthy of being a part of this team.

If his hands shake a little harder before practice, if he has trouble sleeping and never shows his back to his teammates in the locker room, that’s his business and no one else’s. 

It’s over. He survived.

But Kent…Kent is different now. Quiet. Angry. He sticks to Jack like a shadow. Or maybe Jack is the shadow, he can’t tell anymore and he doesn’t care. They train together, play together, drink together, neither drifting too far out of sight. Even though that night is behind them, even though they’re ‘brothers’, Jack doesn’t trust his teammates, he can’t, but he trusts Kenny, and Kenny trusts him.

Then one night Kent misses curfew, and when he does come home he’s got a black eye and a bloody nose. Julianna fusses over him, threatening to call Coach, but he says it wasn’t a fight; claims he was jumped on the way home. It’s a lie, but Julianna doesn’t want a scene any more than they do, so she drops it.

Later, when Jack asks what really happened, Kent grins toothily, more of a grimace than smile, and pulls a wrinkled polaroid from his pocket. It’s a picture from Initiation, the one where their faces are smushed together in a parody of a kiss. You can’t see the hands forcing them together, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

Kent gives him the photo. 

“You don’t have to pretend to like me anymore, I took care of it. They can’t blackmail you now.”

Instead of validating the statement, Jack moves to the bathroom, collecting the candle lighter and upending the small metal wastebasket. They sit on the porch and burn the photo, together. 

“I’m not pretending to like you,” Jack stumbles, words heavy on his tongue. “I like you. A lot. You’re my best friend.”

Over the tiny, acrid fire, Kent leans in and presses a kiss to Jack’s cheek; off-center and sloppy with his swollen face, but a kiss just the same.

That night Kent scrambles down from the top bunk and slides into bed beside him. Jack doesn’t say a word, just takes Kent’s hand beneath the sheets, links their fingers, and squeezes tight.

If Kent can be brave, Jack can too. 

_____

Now:

Jack keeps his sunglasses on, a beer in his hand, and every time one of the frogs looks up at him, he offers a slight smile. Reassuring them that they’re safe. There isn’t a terrible surprise coming. This is it. This is all.

The frogs drink. They howl like wolves. They sing off-key and curse and pledge their loyalty to the Gods of Hockey. It’s stupid. Irreverent. Benign.

Fun.

Bittle shakes like a leaf, but it isn’t because he’s scared, he’s just cold; laughing like the rest of them at the spectacle they’re making together.

Just a bunch of ‘schwasted hockey bros chanting ‘G. O. A. T.’ at a cardboard standee of Wayne Gretzky surrounded by flaming pucks.

This is brotherhood.

Later, as Ransom and Holster oversee the frogs attempting to joust with hockey sticks, Shitty slides into Jack from the side, elbowing him playfully.

“And you were worried Bitty couldn’t handle a bit of fun. Bro can already drink Wicks under the table, his blood’s half alcohol, man; half alcohol, half fucking pie-filling. You know little dude would have owned the naked obstacle course.”

Jack’s reply is lost as Bittle lets loose a battle-cry and skates into Davis, knocking them both to the ice in a sprawl of limbs and laughter. Instead, Jack offers up a fist, which is bumped eagerly.

“Jaques Laurent Zimmermann, softest fucking bro at Samwell. Don’t worry, won’t tell anyone your terrible secret.”

“Doesn't hurt anything to retire the old traditions,” Jack says, watching the other frogs congratulate Bittle. “Not if we’re able to start better ones.”

Shitty grins and pulls Jack into a loose headlock. “Whatever, man. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about your freshman no-show. I’m coming for you next year.”

Instead of dread, Jack feels…nothing. Indifferent, like the threat has passed. He shakes out of Shitty’s hold and wrestles himself away, surprised at the laugh that escapes him.

“Alright, Shits. I’ll be ready.”

____

A/N: So I basically filled my own meta-prompt about Jack/Bitty being afraid of college hazing, and combined it with the  @zimmbonibitty  suggestion that Jack made Bitty’s freshman Hazeapalooza less intimidating to protect him. Went a little nuts with it. Fair warning, there’s some heavy stuff in here, mostly regarding Jack and Kent being hazed in Juniors, including an implied dub-con situation, locker room talk, and descriptions of hazing rituals that I really wish were made up. This is partially inspired by this incident with Manitoba’s Junior’s team, other examples were taken from personal accounts of athletic and frat hazing online, stories from friends of mine, and personal experience.

[selfhelpqa-blog]

A Message to Garcia

New Post has been published on https://selfhelpqa.com/a-message-to-garcia/

A Message to Garcia

A MESSAGE TO GARCIA

by

Elbert Hubbard

APOLOGIA

HORSE SENSE

If you work for a man, in Heaven’s name work for him. If he pays wages that supply you your bread and butter, work for him, speak well of him, think well of him, and stand by him, and stand by the institution he represents. I think if I worked for a man, I would work for him. I would not work for him a part of his time, but all of his time. I would give an undivided service or none. If put to the pinch, an ounce of loyalty is worth a pound of cleverness. If you must vilify, condemn, and eternally disparage, why, resign your position, and when you are outside, damn to your heart’s content. But, I pray you, so long as you are a part of an institution, do not condemn it. Not that you will injure the institution–not that–but when you disparage the concern of which you are a part, you disparage yourself. And don’t forget–“I forgot” won’t do in business.

This literary trifle, “A Message to Garcia,” was written one evening after supper, in a single hour. It was on the Twenty-second of February, Eighteen Hundred Ninety-nine, Washington’s Birthday, and we were just going to press with the March “Philistine.” The thing leaped hot from my heart, written after a trying day, when I had been endeavoring to train some rather delinquent villagers to abjure the comatose state and get radio-active.

The immediate suggestion, though, came from a little argument over the teacups, when my boy Bert suggested that Rowan was the real hero of the Cuban War. Rowan had gone alone and done the thing–carried the message to Garcia.

It came to me like a flash! Yes, the boy is right, the hero is the man who does his work–who carries the message to Garcia. I got up from the table, and wrote “A Message to Garcia.” I thought so little of it that we ran it in the Magazine without a heading. The edition went out, and soon orders began to come for extra copies of the March “Philistine,” a dozen, fifty, a hundred; and when the American News Company ordered a thousand, I asked one of my helpers which article it was that had stirred up the cosmic dust.

“It’s the stuff about Garcia,” he said.

The next day a telegram came from George H. Daniels, of the New York Central Railroad, thus: “Give price on one hundred thousand Rowan article in pamphlet form–Empire State Express advertisement on back–also how soon can ship.”

I replied giving price, and stated we could supply the pamphlets in two years. Our facilities were small and a hundred thousand booklets looked like an awful undertaking.

The result was that I gave Mr. Daniels permission to reprint the article in his own way. He issued it in booklet form in editions of half a million. Two or three of these half-million lots were sent out by Mr. Daniels, and in addition the article was reprinted in over two hundred magazines and newspapers. It has been translated into all written languages.

At the time Mr. Daniels was distributing the “Message to Garcia,” Prince Hilakoff, Director of Russian Railways, was in this country. He was the guest of the New York Central, and made a tour of the country under the personal direction of Mr. Daniels. The Prince saw the little book and was interested in it, more because Mr. Daniels was putting it out in such big numbers, probably, than otherwise.

In any event, when he got home he had the matter translated into Russian, and a copy of the booklet given to every railroad employee in Russia.

Other countries then took it up, and from Russia it passed into Germany, France, Spain, Turkey, Hindustan and China. During the war between Russia and Japan, every Russian soldier who went to the front was given a copy of the “Message to Garcia.”

The Japanese, finding the booklets in possession of the Russian prisoners, concluded that it must be a good thing, and accordingly translated it into Japanese.

And on an order of the Mikado, a copy was given to every man in the employ of the Japanese Government, soldier or civilian. Over forty million copies of “A Message to Garcia” have been printed.

This is said to be a larger circulation than any other literary venture has ever attained during the lifetime of the author, in all history–thanks to a series of lucky accidents!–E.H.

A MESSAGE TO GARCIA

As the cold of snow in the time of harvest, so is a faithful messenger to them that send him: for he refresheth the soul of his masters.–_Proverbs xxv:_ 13 In all this Cuban business there is one man stands out on the horizon of my memory like Mars at perihelion.

When war broke out between Spain and the United States, it was very necessary to communicate quickly with the leader of the Insurgents. Garcia was somewhere in the mountain fastnesses of Cuba–no one knew where. No mail or telegraph message could reach him. The President must secure his co-operation, and quickly. What to do!

Some one said to the President, “There is a fellow by the name of Rowan will find Garcia for you, if anybody can.”

Rowan was sent for and was given a letter to be delivered to Garcia. How “the fellow by the name of Rowan” took the letter, sealed it up in an oilskin pouch, strapped it over his heart, in four days landed by night off the coast of Cuba from an open boat, disappeared into the jungle, and in three weeks came out on the other side of the Island, having traversed a hostile country on foot, and delivered his letter to Garcia–are things I have no special desire now to tell in detail. The point that I wish to make is this: McKinley gave Rowan a letter to be delivered to Garcia; Rowan took the letter and did not ask, “Where is he at?” By the Eternal! there is a man whose form should be cast in deathless bronze and the statue placed in every college of the land. It is not book-learning young men need, nor instruction about this and that, but a stiffening of the vertebrae which will cause them to be loyal to a trust, to act promptly, concentrate their energies: do the thing–“Carry a message to Garcia.”

General Garcia is dead now, but there are other Garcias.

No man who has endeavored to carry out an enterprise where many hands were needed, but has been well-nigh appalled at times by the imbecility of the average man–the inability or unwillingness to concentrate on a thing and do it.

Slipshod assistance, foolish inattention, dowdy indifference, and half-hearted work seem the rule; and no man succeeds, unless by hook or crook or threat he forces or bribes other men to assist him; or mayhap, God in His goodness performs a miracle, and sends him an Angel of Light for an assistant. You, reader, put this matter to a test: You are sitting now in your office–six clerks are within call. Summon any one and make this request: “Please look in the encyclopedia and make a brief memorandum for me concerning the life of Correggio.”

Will the clerk quietly say, “Yes, sir,” and go do the task?

On your life he will not. He will look at you out of a fishy eye and ask one or more of the following questions:

Who was he? Which encyclopedia? Where is the encyclopedia? Was I hired for that? Don’t you mean Bismarck?

What’s the matter with Charlie doing it? Is he dead? Is there any hurry? Shall I bring you the book and let you look it up yourself? What do you want to know for?

_I wasn’t hired for that anyway!_

And I will lay you ten to one that after you have answered the questions, and explained how to find the information, and why you want it, the clerk will go off and get one of the other clerks to help him try to find Garcia–and then come back and tell you there is no such man. Of course I may lose my bet, but according to the Law of Average I will not.

Now, if you are wise, you will not bother to explain to your “assistant” that Correggio is indexed under the C’s, not in the K’s, but you will smile very sweetly and say, “Never mind,” and go look it up yourself.

And this incapacity for independent action, this moral stupidity, this infirmity of the will, this unwillingness to cheerfully catch hold and lift–these are the things that put pure Socialism so far into the future. If men will not act for themselves, what will they do when the benefit of their effort is for all? A first mate with knotted club seems necessary; and the dread of getting “the bounce” Saturday night holds many a worker to his place.

Advertise for a stenographer, and nine out of ten who apply can neither spell nor punctuate–and do not think it necessary to.

Can such a one write a letter to Garcia?

“You see that bookkeeper,” said a foreman to me in a large factory.

“Yes; what about him?” “Well, he’s a fine accountant, but if I’d send him up-town on an errand, he might accomplish the errand all right, and on the other hand, might stop at four saloons on the way, and when he got to Main Street would forget what he had been sent for.”

Can such a man be entrusted to carry a message to Garcia?

We have recently been hearing much maudlin sympathy expressed for the “downtrodden denizens of the sweat-shop” and the “homeless wanderer searching for honest employment,” and with it all often go many hard words for the men in power.

Nothing is said about the employer who grows old before his time in a vain attempt to get frowsy ne’er-do-wells to do intelligent work; and his long, patient striving with “help” that does nothing but loaf when his back is turned. In every store and factory there is a constant weeding-out process going on. The employer is continually sending away “help” that have shown their incapacity to further the interests of the business, and others are being taken on.

No matter how good times are, this sorting continues: only if times are hard and work is scarce, the sorting is done finer–but out and forever out the incompetent and unworthy go. It is the survival of the fittest. Self-interest prompts every employer to keep the best–those who can carry a message to Garcia.

I know one man of really brilliant parts who has not the ability to manage a business of his own, and yet who is absolutely worthless to any one else, because he carries with him constantly the insane suspicion that his employer is oppressing, or intending to oppress, him. He can not give orders; and he will not receive them. Should a message be given him to take to Garcia, his answer would probably be, “Take it yourself!”

Tonight this man walks the streets looking for work, the wind whistling through his threadbare coat. No one who knows him dare employ him, for he is a regular firebrand of discontent. He is impervious to reason, and the only thing that can impress him is the toe of a thick-soled Number Nine boot.

Of course I know that one so morally deformed is no less to be pitied than a physical cripple; but in our pitying let us drop a tear, too, for the men who are striving to carry on a great enterprise, whose working hours are not limited by the whistle, and whose hair is fast turning white through the struggle to hold in line dowdy indifference, slipshod imbecility, and the heartless ingratitude which, but for their enterprise, would be both hungry and homeless.

Have I put the matter too strongly? Possibly I have; but when all the world has gone a-slumming I wish to speak a word of sympathy for the man who succeeds–the man who, against great odds, has directed the efforts of others, and having succeeded, finds there’s nothing in it: nothing but bare board and clothes. I have carried a dinner-pail and worked for day’s wages, and I have also been an employer of labor, and I know there is something to be said on both sides. There is no excellence, per se, in poverty; rags are no recommendation; and all employers are not rapacious and high-handed, any more than all poor men are virtuous.

My heart goes out to the man who does his work when the “boss” is away, as well as when he is at home. And the man who, when given a letter for Garcia, quietly takes the missive, without asking any idiotic questions, and with no lurking intention of chucking it into the nearest sewer, or of doing aught else but deliver it, never gets “laid off,” nor has to go on a strike for higher wages. Civilization is one long, anxious search for just such individuals. Anything such a man asks shall be granted. His kind is so rare that no employer can afford to let him go. He is wanted in every city, town and village–in every office, shop, store and factory.

The world cries out for such: he is needed, and needed badly–the man who can carry

A MESSAGE TO GARCIA.

To act in absolute freedom and at the same time know that responsibility is the price of freedom is salvation.

HERE THEN ENDETH THE PREACHMENT, _A MESSAGE TO GARCIA_, AS WRITTEN BY FRA ELBERTUS AND DONE INTO A BOOK BY THE ROYCROFTERS AT THEIR SHOP, WHICH IS IN EAST AURORA, NEW YORK.

LIFE IN ABUNDANCE

The supreme prayer of my heart is not to be learned or “good,” but to be Radiant.

I desire to radiate health, cheerfulness, sincerity, calm courage and good-will.

I wish to be simple, honest, natural, frank, clean in mind and clean in body, unaffected–ready to say, “I do not know,” if so it be, to meet all men on an absolute equality–to face any obstacle and meet every difficulty unafraid and unabashed.

I wish others to live their lives, too, up to their highest, fullest and best. To that end I pray that I may never meddle, dictate, interfere, give advice that is not wanted, nor assist when my services are not needed. If I can help people I’ll do it by giving them a chance to help themselves; and if I can uplift or inspire, let it be by example, inference and suggestion, rather than by injunction and dictation. That is to say, I desire to be Radiant–to Radiate Life.