#everyone in the call made at least double what i make yearly

[solidwater05]

I don't remember the first half of my dream very well, I think at some point I was playing Among Us with my family except that it transported you to the actual location to play (on your phone, you didn't have to actually kill anyone). This location was like. a planet made of croissants. Most of the planet wasn't edible but there were some very tiny treats that were and I made the conclusion that if you're really patient you can live just with the food the game offers you

Before or after this I went to a yearly event that happens in real life and just like in real life it was too loud and I hated it. We watched (the beginning of) a movie there but I can't remember what it was about

Then I was at my school's library and I was taking down some old decorations because the school year had ended. I had an inner monologue that reminded me of Asriel's trauma but I can't remember what it was about. When I was done I went outside and all my classmates were there playing with balloons. I joined because fuck yeah, balloons!! Then I went outside where my mom was waiting for me and we went off. It was nighttime outside.

We encountered one of my friends, who was elderly in the dream 'for religious reasons' apparently? She's around my age irl. In fact I think I'm older than her. My mom stayed behind to talk with my friend's parents, and my friend, another friend that wasn't there before, and me kept walking. I stopped them because I saw a shooting star and we stood there watching the starts because there was a meteor shower that everyone was expecting except me. It was very pretty. Someone had prepared a huge screen/hologram of a yellow star with a rainbow trail falling on a (real) house and making it explode. The projection was so realistic that at first I didn't notice that nothing got destroyed

Then a hologram show started. Note, I'm calling them holograms because it's the closest thing that exists, but these were three dimensional like you see in fiction, and also nearly completely opaque. You couldn't see what was under them. That's why they looked so real

The show was rollercoaster themed. There were two huge walls/screens/machines that the holograms were projected on, and even the supports of those things imitated rollercoaster supports. I thought that this was a hazard because the holograms made it impossible to tell if there were any pinch point hazards near. I somehow knew that there had to be some despite nothing being clearly visible.

Then I think I woke up and fell asleep again because I can't remember how I got to the next part. I was in some sort of lab working with a computer. The computers looked like old arcade games and there were many others working with them. They had faucets pointing at the user, I think it was to prevent (user) overheating? It was standard to have at least one of them on at all times but the water was too cold for me so I turned them off. It had no negative effects besides the judgment of my peers.

The lab also had clones. They looked just like the scientists they were clones of except that they were dark green and somewhat translucent, like slime. I don't think they were particularly malleable but they were still made of goop. At some point in this scene I saw a scientist carry a beaker full of that goop and I knew that it was the scientist's DNA. It was all very futuristic sci-fi

The scientists mainly worked on the computers and the clones mainly did paperwork. We were all very busy with completely different things.

I remember having to double check something about the door, maybe if it was locked? I think I remember locking it

I remember that there was a 'one of the people trapped in this room are dangerous' situation but I don't think there was any murder? Still, all the scientists were working hard to figure out who it was. I remember thinking that it was 'just like in Among Us'. It might have been set in space too, I don't know

My coworker who was working besides me looked at the clones and said that despite working on something completely different, they're also trapped in a situation similar to ours. That has implications but I'm too tired to figure them out now

[warpedsenseofmercy]

I’m angry

Angry and tired

I work for a multi-billion dollar company. You’ve heard of it. Please don’t tag it.

I found a million dollar mistake a few days ago. Totally internal, wouldn’t affect the general public, kind of mistake. Would affect 50 sites, thousands of employees, millions of customers across the US kind of mistake.

I found it, and created the fix for it, in less than an hour.

Was told I “did pretty good” in the conference call I was asked to be in because I knew more about the issue than my boss and my boss’s boss. And was reprimanded for going over scheduled hours by being in the call.

I can’t win for fucking losing.

[shireness-says]

The Set-Up Scam

Summary: They’ve always been friends first and foremost - Emma and Killian, Killian and Emma - until suddenly, they’re something a little more too. But with a $600 betting pool on the line about when they’ll actually get together - well, maybe there’s incentive to keep the good news a secret. ~5.5k. Rated T for language. Also on Ao3. 

~~~~~

A/N: Merry Christmas, @nevertothethird! I was delighted to be your pair for @cssecretsanta2020. It’s been wonderful chatting with you, and I look forward to a full stalking. ;)

You said you liked secret dating, friends to lovers, and characters being forced to work together - so I, like a fool, tried to include all three. I hope you like the result!

Special thanks, as always, to my beta, @snidgetsafan - the greatest treasure under any tree.

Tagging: @ohmightydevviepuu, @welllpthisishappening, @thisonesatellite, @let-it-raines, @kmomof4, @scientificapricot, @thejollyroger-writer, @superchocovian, @teamhook, @optomisticgirl, @winterbaby89, @searchingwardrobes, @katie-dub, @snowbellewells, @spartanguard, @phiralovesloki, @profdanglaisstuff

Enjoy - and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

They’re friends, first and foremost. Best friends, really - Killian and Emma, Emma and Killian. Partners in crime and two peas in a pod and every other cliché there is (and Killian would definitely know all of them). It’s been that way since the very beginning, when Killian let her peek at his attendance quiz answers in that awful intro to astronomy class in college. Their relationship had grown from there: late nights in the library and each others’ dorm rooms, studying or watching movies or chatting, all the way through graduation and eventually grad school. They get each other in a way that usually doesn’t happen for Emma, both coming from rough backgrounds and determined to make the world a better place because of it. Hell, they even work together now at Misthaven County Middle School - Killian as an English teacher, and Emma as a guidance counselor. 

And all that time, it’s been strictly platonic. 

It’s not like Emma hasn’t looked. He’s an objectively good looking man, and smart and sweet and funny. But he’d been in some “it’s complicated” situation with a grad student when they’d met, and then Emma was in that weird period where she and Graham gave it a shot, and by the time they were both available… well, by that time, they’d been Emma and Killian. Killian and Emma. A collective, a pair, absolutely entwined every way but romantically. He’d become her person, and it wasn’t worth risking that. There was no guarantee a romantic relationship would work out, anyways - or that Killian felt the attraction too. 

The thing, though, is that they’re Emma and Killian. Killian and Emma. Always together, always in each other’s stories, two birds of a feather. People constantly think that they’re together - or should be.

Emma doesn’t really mind, most of the time. She and Killian usually think it’s pretty funny, trading stories back and forth on his or her couch. Where it gets annoying is when each and every one of their friends are determined they should be dating. It’s been years of meaningful looks and hints about “so why aren’t you seeing anyone, Emma?” - but the last straw is the stupid, stupid bet.

“I just don’ unnerstand why you and Killian aren’t a couple!” slurs Mary Margaret, assistant principal and friend, at her yearly end-of-summer bash. “You’re ovviously in loooooooooove.”

“Sure we are, Mary Margaret,” Emma placates. 

“But why haven’t you yet?” she demands. “You made me lose the pool!”

That draws Emma up short. “I’m sorry, what?”

The little pixie-haired brunette frowns. “Don’t you know? We’ve had a betting pool going for ages about when you’d get together this year. I thought for sure it’d be the Fourth of July.”

It’s a good guess, actually - Ruby throws a famously boozy bash every year at her grandmother’s diner, conveniently situated right below the inn. It’d make sense for them to get drunk and take things upstairs - except for the fact that none of this is rooted in sense in any way, shape, or form.

“That obviously didn’t happen,” Mary Margaret frowns sorrowfully, staring down into her plastic cup full of god-knows-what. It doesn’t last long, though, as she perks right back up. “But they let me make a new guess! I’ve got my money on the Friday after your birthday.”

“How much money are we talking here?” Emma can’t help but ask. It’s like a compulsion, one she doesn’t like or understand. 

“Five hundred and fifty dollars.” At least that’s what she thinks Mary Margaret says; the slurring gets particularly bad on the f-sounds. It’s an astounding sum. Truly stupid.

Kind of tempting.

“And everyone bet that it would happen this year?” she makes sure to clarify.

“Yup!” Mary Margaret pops the p-sound and then giggles to herself about the noise. 

“Then I’m putting fifty dollars on it not happening this year. That Killian and I won’t get together.”

———

She means it at the time, too. Because yeah, there’s sometimes that niggling little what if?, but they’ve known each other for eight years. Emma and Killian. Killian and Emma. It’s not going to happen - honestly she’s not even sure she would want it to.

Until. 

It’s not the Friday after her birthday, when they’re all going to hit the bar, but it’s the night before her birthday - a Tuesday. Killian comes over to grade vocab quizzes and eat greasy pizza, and stays to drink beer and watch stupid baking shows with her on the couch. Honestly, in so many ways, it’s a night like any other: two friends, just enjoying each other’s company.

Until.

Maybe it’s the beers. Maybe something’s been building for longer than she ever thought. Maybe it’s just that they’re both feeling good and, well, it is her birthday. But Killian kisses her - or she kisses Killian - they kiss each other and it’s like something slots into place. Like of course this was going to happen - they were just waiting for the perfect moment. It makes sense, in a way that Emma hasn’t let herself think about; he’s the person she trusts most, the best man she knows, probably the most important person in her life. Her best friend - and, probably, something more.

“That was…” he gasps, some indeterminable amount of time later. Somehow, he’s wound up on top of her on the couch - not that she’s complaining.

“Only the beginning,” Emma completes, smirking in a way she definitely picked up from him. 

Now that this has started, she has no intention of stopping. 

———

“Ok, don’t kill me - or, like, run away immediately - but I need a favor. A huge one,” Emma says much later, both of them naked and sated beneath her sheets.

Killian laughs beside her, peering up from the pillows with a smile. “After that, darling, I’m predisposed to give you just about anything you want.”

“And I’ll give it to you again,” she quips back, mostly to make him keep laughing. It works. “But seriously. Did you know that everyone’s got a bet going on us?”

That pops his head up. “I’m sorry, a bet? I… What? Who?”

“Seems like pretty much everyone. Ruby, Mary Margaret, David, Robin, Belle… I could go on and on. A six hundred dollar pool on when we get together.”

“Typical,” Killian mutters - though Emma catches a fond note in his tone. “Who’s the lucky winner, then?”

“Ok, this is where the favor comes in.” Hopefully this isn’t a breaking point for him; Emma would hate to have this taste of them, only to have it ripped away from her. “See, Mary Margaret told me about this when she got trashed at the back to school party, and I’d had a few too and was all hopped up on righteous fury or whatever, and I kind of… put fifty dollars in the pot that we wouldn’t get together this year at all.”

Killian stares at her for a moment, and Emma’s frankly scared that he’s going to get out of bed and go - but instead, he bursts into a near-hysterical cackle. “So you want to keep this a secret until the new year, so you can win the pot?”

Emma grins, knowing she must look like the cat that ate the canary (or however that weird-ass saying goes - again, English is Killian’s thing). “Exactly. We could spend it on a weekend getaway or something.”

“I’m in, then. Under the radar.”

“It’s just two months and change,” Emma says. “It’ll speed by. How hard can it be?”

———

Turns out - their friends are determined to make it as hard as possible. Even if they don’t know it.

Things are fine, at first. In fact, nothing really changes: Emma and Killian still show up at each others’ doors most nights, and Killian comes to hang out and grade papers in her office during his free periods most days. It’s just that their evenings are now filled with kisses and touches, and those afternoons in her office with all kinds of promises of things to come. It’s thrilling, in a way, to put on the front of normality for everyone else while only they know the truth. It’s nice, too, to be able to get their feet underneath them in this relationship without so many prying eyes watching them figure it all out. 

Just because they don’t know, though, doesn’t mean their friends stop trying. There’s a bet on the line, after all, and their friends have never exactly been ones to step back and let things naturally run their course. Not for those busybodies; not with six hundred dollars and Emma and Killian’s supposed happiness on the line.

(The fact that they’re right - that the two of them really are happiest together - is irrelevant.)

David, of all people, is the first to start meddling.

“Do you guys want to get dinner?” he asks out of the blue one day - calls Emma up on her phone and everything. “You and Killian and me and Mary Margaret, I mean.”

Emma’s antenna raises immediately. “What, like a double date? C’mon, David —”

“No! No,” he says hastily - a little too hastily, Emma thinks. “No, a cousin of mine - Kris, you’ve met him - he’s opening up his own restaurant. Some place with Scandinavian food, I guess?”

“That’s actually a thing?” 

“I guess. I don’t know, he studied abroad in Norway in college. Anyways, he could use a little business, support or whatever, so Mary Margaret and I figured we’d bring some extra people along. You know, help him out. And maybe Scandinavian food is good after all.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

The line sits silent for a moment, before David breaks. “So… you in?”

And as much as Emma suspects this is all some elaborate set-up - well, it’s supposed to be to help someone else. David’s cousin, who she has in fact met and is really a good guy. And so she reluctantly agrees. “Yeah, I’m in. One of us will have to check with Killian if he’s available —”

“What, he’s not right there with you?”

(He is, his lips kiss-swollen and pulled into a delicious smirk, but that’s not the point and none of David’s business.)

“ — but yeah, I’m down.”

In the week between the call and the dinner, Emma actually finds herself starting to look forward to it. Yeah, it won’t be a real date - not with David and Mary Margaret there - but it’s still a chance to wear a pretty dress that’ll make Killian’s eyes bug a little. She’ll have to pick something he’ll have fun taking off of her later, once they’ve pretended to go back to their own homes. 

Emma’s just pulling into the parking lot, however, when her phone rings, David’s name popping up on the screen. 

“We’re not going to make it tonight,” he says without preamble, followed by the most fake-ass cough Emma’s ever heard in her life. “We’re sick.”

“Yeah, sick off your own lies,” Emma mutters. “Alright, well, I guess we’ll go another time —”

“Oh no, I insist you guys still have dinner. You and Killian deserve to have a night off!”

“David, c’mon, don’t play dumb —”

He ignores her. “Besides, you’ll be doing me - and Kris - a huge favor. I already told him to charge whatever you guys get to me. Splurge a little, have dessert and a bottle of wine. It’s all on me.”

Killian climbs out of his own car as David pleads his case, cocking his head in confusion at the no doubt frustrated look on Emma’s face. He looks like he wants to kiss it better; Emma wishes he could actually do so.

“Fine,” she caves. “If you’re sure. But I’m running up the bill.”

“You say that like it’s a surprise.”

Emma takes particular glee in ending the call. She should have seen this coming. “Looks like David has come down with a possibly fatal cough, so he and Mary Margaret aren’t coming tonight,” she tells Killian, rolling her eyes. No need to resist that particular urge.

He snorts. “Ah, liar-itis. I thought he might be coming down with a case.”

“Complicated by meddler’s cough. Don’t forget that.”

“Of course not.” He dips down to capture her lips in a gentle, lingering kiss - another urge they don’t have to resist with none of their friends around to see it. “You look lovely tonight, Swan.”

She smirks back. “I know.”

“Of course you do,” he laughs. “I’m sure you wore that just to torment me through dinner. Now, shall we?”

“We shall.” Emma slips her hand through his offered arm. “Dinner’s on David, by the way.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

———

“So, how was dinner?” David asks the next day, his cough mysteriously cleared up. 

“Good,” Emma replies, knowing exactly what he’s digging for. “Your cousin’s got a good lingonberry cheesecake. Don’t worry, Killian and I totally ran up the bill. Kris has been well supported. You’re welcome.”

“And?” he demands.

Emma makes sure to play up her confusion. “And… what? It was a great dinner, might even go back if I ever have a date, and then I went home. Honestly, what did you expect to happen, David?”

Even through the phone, she can almost hear him audibly deflate. Something like a sigh, or perhaps the sound of his entire plan collapsing in on itself. Personally, Emma thinks it’s hilarious.

(It’s especially funny when she vividly remembers the way Killian had stripped her out of that dress, can still feel the scratch of his beard on her inner thighs.)

(But again - those are things that David doesn’t need to know.)

———

The set-ups multiply like rabbits, and Emma starts to notice her and Killian being forced into more and more situations together, just the two of them. Fuck only knows why they think these clumsy attempts will work; after all, Emma and Killian held out for 8 years of each other’s company before finally getting together (without anyone’s help, she might add). Still, 

Trivia night is a weekly tradition for them all, down at the Rabbit Hole. Some weeks, the turnout is good; sometimes, not so much. They usually meet up at someone’s house and carpool from there because there’s not a ton of parking spots outside the bar, and it’s always worked well - two, maybe three cars instead of a half dozen or more. It’s a good time, and Emma always finds herself looking forward to Thursdays. 

Tonight, they’ve met at Robin’s, Killian’s former roommate. It’s a good crowd tonight, too - Robin and his fiance Marian, Mary Margaret with David, Belle the librarian, Ruby and Mulan, even Graham and Lance and Tink. The gang’s all here, probably trying to let loose a bit before holiday obligations set in, and they’re raring to go - all twelve of them.

Emma hopes that it’s not planned - that there just happen to be two cars and then some worth of people here - but it’s more likely planned. Robin probably twisted their arms to come, just for this.

“Emma, would you mind checking the door one more time?” he calls as they congregate in the driveway. “I’m sure I locked it, but I’ve just got that niggling little feeling…”

“Sure, no problem.” And it isn’t - it’s checking the damn door. Except it’s actually winding down his stupidly picturesque front garden path to the front door, and then having to maneuver around the always-unlocked outer glass door to make sure that the real door is locked, and then maneuvering and winding and everything back… and by the time Emma makes it back, everyone’s already piled into Mary Margaret’s station wagon and Robin’s little SUV, even the middle seats everyone usually hates, leaving just the conniving man himself and Killian standing on the asphalt. 

“Sorry, looks like the two of you will be riding together,” Robin says, not seeming remotely sorry. “This is convenient anyways! I know how much time you two spend together, if you decide that it’s easier to crash together afterwards… it wouldn’t be a problem for the extra car to stay here overnight.”

“Oh, I’m sure it wouldn’t be,” Emma grumbles. “I don’t suppose you have any underlying motive here, do you Robin? Say, to the tune of six hundred dollars?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he responds cheerily. “I just really, really want you to know that you can keep your options open. And, you know, other euphemistic things if the urge moves you.”

Asshole.

(Emma does not leave her car at Robin’s overnight - but that doesn’t stop Killian from meeting her at her place afterwards.

“This euphemistic enough for you, love?” he teases as Emma pulls at his shirt, trying to tug the cotton tee over his head.

“How’s this for a euphemism: fuck me.”

“That’s not exactly how that word works, Swan.”

“I could not possibly give fewer shits about semantics than I do right now, Killian, unless it somehow relates to you getting your pants off.”

Somehow, even in the midst of their frantic stripping, he manages to laugh. “As you wish.”

She’s always preferred straight talking anyways.)

———

“Thank god I found you both!” Mary Margaret declares, bursting into Emma’s office a little too dramatically for her tastes. Until now, she and Killian had been having a wonderful lunch together, but that’s obviously a thing of the past now. 

“That seems a little extreme for a Friday,” Killian comments mildly as he sets his cafeteria burger back down on the styrofoam tray. Personally, Emma thinks the cafeteria food is disgusting, but Killian’s got a real fondness for the cheeseburgers, and especially the french fries. No one’s perfect, she guesses. “What terrible impending tragedy can Emma or I save you from, Mary Margaret?”

“Kathryn’s father is in the hospital, so she and Fred can’t work their assigned booth at the Winter Carnival tomorrow.” Storybrooke County School District’s charity carnival is a tradition every winter - one Mary Margaret takes very seriously. Something that’s clearly about to come back and bite them all in the ass. “Would you two be able to cover tomorrow? You’d be doing me such a huge favor…”

Killian raises a single eyebrow as he turns to meet Emma’s eye - that eyebrow that always seems like a dare. “My schedule’s clear this weekend. Count me in. What do you say, Swan, think you can find room in your schedule to save Mary Margaret from the tragedy of all tragedies?”

Emma rolls her eyes at the way he’s putting it on thick, but truth be told, her only plans had been spending the day with Killian. Might as well. “Sure, what the hell,” she says, reaching for another bite of her microwave pizza. “I don’t have anything else going on.”

In retrospect, Emma realizes that Mary Margaret could have done something terrible with this - assigned them to the kissing booth or something. God, she hopes that there’s not a kissing booth at a middle school carnival, but it feels like just the kind of thing she’d pull. Thankfully, they’re set up at the ring toss game. It’s not strenuous in the least; they don’t even have to take money, just paper tickets. Really, the only questionable thing is that they’re crammed right together in the box formed between the booth walls and the counter and the table of bottles behind them. Maybe that’s something that would have bothered her a few weeks ago, back when they were Emma and Killian but not Emma and Killian. Now, it’s just an excuse to get right up in his space and enjoy all those little touches, right under everyone’s nose.

(Maybe, every time they have to duck under the counter to retrieve poorly-thrown rings, Killian takes the opportunity to steal a quick kiss while no one else can see. And maybe - just maybe - Emma uses those same opportunities to steal her own kisses right back.)

“Soooooo, how’s it going?” Mary Margaret chirps when she pops up out of nowhere mid-afternoon. It’s like she thinks she’ll find them making out in the middle of the carnival or something. Which… fair. The urge is there. But they’re professionals - and Emma wants that money, dammit. She’s not caving here.

“Just fine, Mare,” Emma replies. “Nothing worth reporting.”

“There’s not? You two are looking awfully cozy in there… nothing to report?”

“Well, you’re the one who set up the booths, so…”

“Aye, just making the best of it,” Killian helpfully adds.

Emma almost feels guilty about the way that Mary Margaret visibly deflates.

“You know this was another ridiculous set-up, right, love?” Killian asks once their friend has walked away. “She probably never even needed our help. It was all a ploy.”

“I see it now,” Emma sighs. “I had just weirdly hoped she’d be above all that bullshit.”

Killian quirks that eyebrow yet again. “Mary Margaret? Infamous meddler? Of course not. It’s cute that you thought that though, darling.”

“Oh, shut up.”

(“Mary Margaret told me to take the weekend off, that they’d over-scheduled,” Kathryn tells Emma later when she tries to ask how the other woman’s father is doing. “Was that not the case?”)

(Fucking figures.)

———

Ruby, frankly, is not a surprise. In fact, if there was one person Emma would figure would be pulling this bullshit, it’s Ruby. The girl’s too competitive for her own damn good - not to mention that mile-wide chaotic streak running through her soul.

“Pucker up!” she crows, thrusting what Emma assumes is a sprig of mistletoe over her and Killian’s heads. They’re at Ruby and Mulan’s place for… some party; it’s probably, maybe holiday themed, but Ruby’s never needed an excuse to throw a party. Anything to get them all drunk and laughing and forgetting about the stresses of the week.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Emma demands. “Ruby, don’t be stupid. This isn’t college anymore.”

“Oh, like we ever did this in college,” Ruby scoffs with that devious twinkle in her eye. “Besides, college shenanigans are a state of mind. And I’m not giving that up. Now c’mon, no weaseling out of this.”

“It is the rules,” Mulan points out, appearing to slip her arm around Ruby’s waist and drop an affectionate - if slightly tipsy - kiss on her shoulder.

“Yeah, you hear that? Smart half says it’s the rules. So go ahead and pucker up and kiss him. And then go make out for a while and maybe bone each other so I can win the pool.”

Killian blushes a little bit at the phrasing - something that’s surprisingly cute on him, knowing how often he usually tosses around the innuendoes and exactly how dirty a mouth he has when they’re alone. Before Emma knows what he’s doing, he leans in to press a gentle kiss to her cheek, and then another, smacking one for good measure. “Who are we to deny the great, determined Ruby Lucas?” he proclaims grandly. “One kiss: delivered.”

Ruby’s face gets a bit mutinous; it’s the only word for that particular storm cloud, really. “No it isn’t! That’s cheating!”

“Eh. Technically, it was a kiss.” God bless Mulan for being the only one willing to go against Ruby when she’s got a plan; perks of being the girlfriend, Emma supposes. 

“And more importantly, Rubes, that’s all you’re going to get from us.” And that’s Emma’s last word on the subject.

(“Happy Christmas, darling,” Killian whispers into her neck later once they’re back at her place, dangling his own sprig of mistletoe over their heads. “How about it? C’mon, give us a kiss.”

Emma is more than happy to comply.)

———

Emma wouldn’t say it’s common for her to get calls from the school librarian, Belle, but it’s not unusual either. So when Belle calls her up in mid-December, shortly before Christmas break, Emma doesn’t think twice about it.

“The new Scholastic catalogs are here,” Belle informs her. “I haven’t started sending them to classrooms yet, but if you want to take a look now…”

“I’ll be right there.” Yes, the catalogs are full of books for middle school students, but Emma still loves those things. They’re chock-full of nostalgia.

“I haven’t even taken them out of the box yet,” Belle explains when Emma meets her at the check-out desk. “They’re all still in the back room. Here, I’ll let you in.”

That should have been Emma’s clue here. Why would a box of new catalogs, just arrived in the mail, already be shoved into the storage closet? But Emma’s too excited about the prospect of those newsprint magazines to think about it. By the time Emma realizes there’s nothing in this little closet but printer paper and old yearbooks… Belle’s already closed and locked the door, trapping Emma inside. 

So it’s yet another set up, most likely. It’s a good thing she’s not claustrophobic, at least.

Sure enough, not five minutes later, Emma can hear Killian’s voice outside the door. 

“How many boxes did you say it was, Belle? I’m happy to help haul, but I’m just wondering if we should get a hand cart to assist.”

“Oh no, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Belle’s voice responds. “Just a few trips for each of us. Right in here…”

And suddenly, Killian’s in the cramped little closet too, and the door is shut and latched behind them. Gee, what a surprise.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Emma comments dryly. Somehow, probably on some kind of ridiculous romantic instinct, Killian’s hands have already found their way to her hips. It’s nice, really, ignoring the circumstances.

His face is adorably confused, looking around the room and back to the door and then to Emma’s own face and all over again. “Did she just lock us in here?”

“Yeah, keep up, Jones,” Emma teases. “I assume another stupid set-up effort.”

That makes the confusion disperse alright, a smirk full of promise creeping across his face instead. “If that’s the case… we’ll just have to make the most of it.”

“Oh no you don’t,” she warns. “There’s a camera in here.”

“So? It’s not like she’s watching the monitors.”

“So, Belle recently started dating Will Scarlet in IT. You want to take the chance she locked us in here, and forgot to have her boyfriend monitor us?”

“Fuck,” Killian swears, dropping his head back in dramatic emphasis. “They’re really going overboard, aren’t they?”

“I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.”

Thirty minutes later, when Emma and Killian have done nothing but talk and try to find some little extra space in the crowded closet, Belle finally lets them out, just in time for the end of Killian’s free period.

“I’m sure you have no idea how that happened,” he comments, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“It’s just the weirdest thing,” Belle agrees.

Well, that’s one way of putting it.

(Emma makes it up to him, several times over, at her place that night, with a take-out pizza to boot.)

———

After what feels like an eternity, it’s finally here: New Year’s Eve. As long as they make it to midnight and the new year proper without anyone finding out, this whole ridiculous farce is over, and they can be the couple they’ve technically already been since October. Emma and Killian, Killian and Emma - but more than they had been before. 

They’d spent Christmas together - not that that was anything unusual. With everyone else going to visit family, the two of them often spend the day together, eating take-out Chinese and watching holiday movies. Killian’s got a brother back in England that he makes sure to call, and some years Liam will fly over, but Killian usually saves his visits for summer vacation, when he can stay in whatever little English hamlet his brother calls home for weeks at a time. There’s always something nice about spending the holidays together, just the two of them, but it was extra special this year. Who knew Emma was the kind of girl who wanted to trade kisses under the Christmas tree between swapping gifts?

(Killian, apparently - but then again, he’s always claimed to know her better than she knows herself.)

“Just a few more hours,” he murmurs against her neck, twining his arms about her waist from behind as Emma carefully brushes on mascara. “Few more hours, and then it’s all in the open.”

“Thank god for that, too. After all the PDA we’ve gotten from certain people all these years, I’m looking forward to rubbing it in their faces a bit.”

They carpool to Mary Margaret and David’s, just like they do every year. It’s routine, really; Emma always crashes at Killian’s after the annual New Year’s Eve party so that someone is there to help her with the hangover in the morning. Killian makes better hashbrowns than anyone she knows - even Granny - and they always manage to pull her out of the worst of her misery. He’s good about taking care of her, too, with water and Advil and making sure to shut all the shades as tightly as possible. They even share a bed a lot of years; it’s just that tonight, Emma knows there will be a lot fewer clothes involved.

They drink. They eat. They mingle. Sometimes, they’re together, carefully not touching, and sometimes they drift apart. That’s how this party usually works, after all - and Emma is nothing if not committed to seeing this entire thing through, pretending nothing is different this year, that she and Killian definitely aren’t together. Nothing to see here, folks.

God, she’s so fucking lucky he didn’t cut and run once it became obvious just how much of a competitive lunatic Emma is.

Finally, though, it’s the moment - less than a minute left. Killian is already waiting for her by the patio doors, just like he promised. Emma is only too happy to wind her way over there, grinning when she finally finds herself in front of her boyfriend - about to be secret no longer. Behind them, the assembled drunken crowd loudly counts down the last seconds of the year. They keep their hands determinedly to themselves - just as agreed, so no one can try and claim anything happened before the strike of the new year - but Killian still looks at her with that twinkle in his eyes and wiggling eyebrows. It’s anticipation, and excitement, and a good bit of joy - knowing that soon, this will all be out in the open. No more keeping their hands to themselves. 

“You ready for this, love?” he says just loud enough for her to hear as the clock hits ten seconds. 

“Hell yeah,” she grins back - because she is. She so is. This has been a long time coming - years in the making, really - and you know what? The whole secrecy may have helped her wrap her head around the whole thing, as well as win her the pot, but she’s ready to take it public. Maybe rub it in everyone’s faces just how happy she is and how she did this on her own schedule. Why the hell not?

Cheers erupt all around them, and Emma’s grin stretches to something that almost hurts her face. Killian looks much the same. “Happy New Year, love,” he says, finally pulling her towards him by the hips. “I think it’ll be our best one yet.”

Fireworks are going on outside, lighting up the snow on the ground, but Emma can’t be bothered to pay attention - not when Killian attacks her lips with purpose, grinning happily into the kiss before she insistently deepens it, slipping her tongue into his mouth to play. It’s just another in a series of kisses, they know - but it’s more than that. It’s a display, in the best way, declaring them them.

Emma and Killian. Killian and Emma. A pair, a unit, a couple. 

“HA!” shrieks someone across the room as their make-out finally gains attention. Emma thinks it might be Ruby - though, at this point, it might be Mary Margaret. Maybe both. It’s definitely Ruby who materializes just as Emma and Killian finally break apart with a laugh. “It’s about fucking time!”

“Yeah,” Emma agrees - something that seems to short-circuit Ruby’s brain for a moment, if that look on her face is anything to go by. “It really was. And you know what else?”

Ruby shakes her head mutely, that twist of her eyebrows demonstrating that she’s still trying to get her bearings about what the fuck is happening here.

“It’s the new year. That pot is mine.”

“That’s my girl,” Killian whispers in her ear.

Best. New Year’s. Ever.

———

On January 1st of the new year, Emma and Killian - Killian and Emma - they, them, a pair, a unit, a couple take their six hundred dollars in winnings and treat themselves to a goddamn massive lunch at Granny’s. Together. In public. Because they deserve it. 

Grilled cheese has never tasted so good to Emma - especially the crumbs off the corners of Killian’s lips. 

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

Ch 18-Home Run

Summary: Frank’s competitive side comes out to play during an event at Mary’s school, and then he and Fliss get their first child free evening in well over 6 months.

Warnings:  Bad Language words, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N:  Special thanks to @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ for her little drabble which was posted as part of her Birthday Celebrations which I used in here.

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

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 17

Taking more than her share, had me fighting for air, she told me to come, but I was already there 'Cause the walls start shaking, the Earth was quaking, my mind was aching and we were making it. And you shook me all night long, yeah, you shook me all night long

February 2020

Fliss watched as Frank adjusted the blue Red Sox hat on his head slightly, the baseball bat hanging loosely in one hand before he took up position, turning slightly to the side, his long fingers curling around the handle.

"Five bucks says he misses..." Bill spoke and Fliss gave him a dig in the ribs.

"No chance Poppa B" Mary laughed from where she stood in front of Fliss "Frank's got a wicked swing."

Fliss saw Frank who was laughing at something that one of the school teachers who was current performing the role of catcher before his face suddenly warped into one of utter concentrate as the pitcher wound up. Sure enough, a second or so later Frank swung the bat forward and with a satisfying cracking sound he connected with the baseball and set off at a sprint. Fliss and Mary cheered along with the rest of the crowd who had gathered to watch and Frank rounded first base, then onto second as the other guy positioned there had also started to make his way home. Frank made it to 3rd easily, and then Fliss spotted the expression on his face change as he glanced around and set off at a sprint clearly going for home. The gathered crowd started to yell as the ball came flying in towards the catcher but Frank was there just that little bit faster, dropping into a slide and his boot hit the little square marked out as home before the ball. He jumped up, a huge grin on his face as the other parents on the team all cheered and congratulated him, various other yells ringing out around the little playing field, Fliss, Mary, Bill and Verity joining in. 

"Told ya!" Mary shouted as she jumped up and down. "Home run!"

Fliss looked up at her dad who was chuckling as he watched Frank who was now doubled over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. He wiped at his dirty jeans, which were covered in the orange dust from the school playing field and glanced over towards them, shrugging playfully. 

"Well considering he said he would rather stick hot pins in his eyes than play in the Staff v Parents game he looks like he's enjoying himself." Bonnie grinned as she gently placed a hand on Fliss shoulder, leaning over to pull a face at Alex. The 6 month old baby grinned and waggled his arms furiously letting out a loud giggle, a stream of drool trickled down his chin and Fliss wiped it away with the bib round his neck.

"Well Mary called him a chicken." Fliss snorted, gently running a hand down Alex's flushed cheek, thankful he seemed to be in a temporary respite from his teething pain. "Said he was only refusing to take part because he was scared he wasn't good enough. And let's face it, he's not one to back down from a challenge is he?" 

Bonnie laughed and then someone called her away. Apologising she headed off and the family turned their attention back to the game. It finished about 20 minutes or so later when the last batter was caught out, but it didn't matter as the Parents had won anyway. They all let out a little cheer, before the two teams congratulated one another and dispersed, Frank making his way back over to where his family was stood. He chuckled as Mary ran towards him and he swung her up with a little huff and she tipped his hat back to look at him. 

"You're all sweaty." She pulled a face and Frank rolled his eyes as he set her down.

"Yeah, well it’s in the 70s and I've been running." He shrugged, dropping a kiss to Fliss' cheek.

"Hey babe...Ruth. She teased and Frank chuckled before he smiled at his baby boy.

"How's he feeling?"

"He seems OK." Fliss shrugged, looking at him. "Mind you, I've not tried putting him down yet since he stopped crying."

"Let me take him for a bit." Frank said and Fliss passed him over, Alex immediately reached up for his cap. Frank jerked his head out of the way and Alex let out a noise of protest until Fliss handed him his teething ring from his buggy. They baby grabbed it and instantly jammed it into his mouth, chomping away whilst babbling to no one in particular. Frank dropped a kiss to his head as they walked over the field, making their way to the little refreshment tent where a few if the other parents all turned and cheered as Frank walked in. He grinned, flushing a little at the attention and nodded to Rosie's mom and dad as they wandered over to talk to them. Fliss glanced around and caught the eye of one of the other moms who she recognised as being the one who'd been chatting shit about Frank and Mary last June. She narrowed her eyes a little, staring the bitch out and the other woman hastily averted her gaze and making Fliss smirk.

"Stop it." Frank warned in her ear and she turned to look at him, her best innocent expression in her face.

"Stop what?"

"You know full well what." He arched an eyebrow and Fliss shrugged.

"She's a bitch." she offered as justification and Frank merely rolled his eyes, adjusting Alex slightly in his arms, turning the baby so his back was pressed to his chest, one strong arm under his butt, the other hand pressed over his little belly so they small boy could look round the tent. He waggled his arms and legs excitedly as he saw Bonnie who waved her fingers towards him and smiled as she passed with a box in her arms, heading towards the small table set out at the front. 

The rest of the gala passed fairly quickly. It had been pulled together as a way for teachers and parents to bond, a little bit of fun one Friday afternoon in February. And according to the Principal as she spoke, it was going to be a yearly thing from now on. The Staff V Parents Baseball Trophy was handed to the captain of the parents’ team, a tall dark haired man whose daughter was in first grade who grinned and teased the staff members about how good it would look in the cabinet in the entrance hall with the word Parents engraved on the plate for at least the next 12 months, and then there were a few individual trophies handed out. One for best catch which went to the 3rd grade tutor, best display of acrobatics which went to Rosie's dad for his specular trip over his own feet as he ran to 3rd base, most animated player which went to the school's janitor who had been ferociously rallying his team all afternoon and then finally the Top Slugger trophy which to Fliss' delight was awarded to Frank for his absolute peach of a hit and home run. Frank let out a little groan as his name was called and everyone in the tent turned to face him. He accepted his trophy with one hand, Alex still held easily to his chest with the other and declined to say much other than he'd had fun and it has been a nice afternoon, thanking everyone who has organised the day, before cheekily quipping it was about time Bonnie did some actual work, which earned him a slap upside the head when she was walking past him later. 

Eventually it was time to leave and they made their way back to the cars. Mary retrieved her stuff from Frank's truck, handing it to Bill who tossed it into his Range Rover before Frank then handed Bill a changing bag for Alex as Fliss picked him up from the stroller so Bill could collapse it.

"Sure you don't mind dropping Mary off at Roberta’s?" Frank asked as Bill popped the stroller into the trunk and closed it.

"Not at all, it's on the way." Bill smiled watching Mary give Fliss a hug goodbye before she turned and did the same to Frank. 

"Behave." He said sternly and she rolled her eyes.

"I always do."

"Huh must be just us you're a pain in the ass for." Frank shrugged, earning him a little dig in the stomach from Mary. He huffed a breath, grinning as she clambered into the back of the car. 

"One down...one to go." Bill muttered to where Fliss was holding Alex to her, gently kissing his head.

"Yeah and something tells me this one's gonna be a little more awkward to get in your car." Frank sighed and Bill chuckled. Frank turned to him "I know I don’t need to ask but..."

"He'll be fine." Bill smiled "travel cot and baby monitor all set up."

Frank gave a nod as Bill clapped him on the shoulder and they both turned to Fliss who was now talking to her mother in a worried tone as Alex was starting to grumble.

"You know, I'm not sure..."

"Stop. Now." Verity looked at Fliss, giving her a significant look and Fliss knew why. Her mom and dad taking Alex overnight was a trial run for a few weeks’ time when she was planning to take Frank away for the weekend as a birthday gift. It was more a trial run for her than Alex, mind, as she was still ridiculously clingy to him, a fact she knew and was actively trying to get over. 

"He's teething Fliss, not dying." Bill looked at her. 

"I know that" Fliss replied hotly "but he's a little grouchy and he's in pain..."

“So we'll dose him up with medicine, give him cuddles and let him sleep." Verity responded simply.

"Love, we've done this before remember? And we had 2 of them with Charlie and Joel." Bill chuckled as Fliss chewed on her lip.

"But what if he won't settle? I mean he's only just cut his first one and..."

"Honey, we're 15 minutes away." Frank soothed. 

“Yup, any issues we'll call and bring him straight back." Verity nodded. Frank looked at Bill who gave him a small wink which he understood perfectly. There was no way Alex was coming back tonight, even if he was grouchy. Frank knew Bill and V would just take it in their stride to give them their first child free night in well over 6 months. 

Fliss took a deep breath and nodded. "Ok, I know I'm flapping...I'm sorry..." 

She moved to the car and gently placed him in the car seat before Frank stepped forward to take it from their truck to Bill's. Once it was secured, he dropped a kiss to his head and moved so Fliss could so the same.

She stepped back, closing the door and Frank gently pulled her right hand away from her left where it had begun to worry at the knuckles, the way she always did when she was a little panicked. He laced his fingers with hers, thumb gently stroking the back of her hand in slow, comforting arcs, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Ok, we'll see you tomorrow." Bill smiled as he opened the driver’s side door. "And try to enjoy your night alone yeah? Ill permit one text an hour to check up otherwise I'll sever all communication."

Fliss rolled her eyes but stayed silent. Frank didn't miss the way her fingers squeezed around his as they waved goodbye to Bill's car as it pulled out of the space next to theirs. 

"So, what do you-" Frank stopped dead as he looked down at Fliss who has just burst into tears. "-oh honey!" He chuckled, as she pressed her face into his t-shirt, his arms wrapping around her, gently rubbing her back over her pale blue top. 

"I know I’m being stupid but I can't help it." She sobbed "He's my baby Frank and he has a sore mouth and he's been all grouchy and..."

"Yes he is, yes he does, and yes he has." Frank pulled back, cupping her face in his hands, wiping her tears away with his thumbs "But your mom and dad will be fine. The last few nights after his feed and some Orajel he's settled right down, and if he doesn't they've got the Tylenol. He'll be fine, I promise." 

Fliss nodded and Frank dipped his head, giving her a soft kiss. "Now, we got the rest of the afternoon and the entire night to ourselves...and dare I say it a lie in tomorrow morning." He grinned, turning to open the passenger door for her. "Do you wanna go out for a few drinks or..."

Fliss wrinkled her nose "is it bad I just wanna do nothing?" Frank laughed as Fliss shrugged "I mean I have a book that I haven't opened in like a week, I've got a bottle of pinot in the fridge..."

"So you wanna curl up on the window seat and not be disturbed?" Frank arched his eyebrow.

"Well, not all night." Fliss shook her head "but maybe for an hour or so when I finish the yard."

"Ok, well, let's make a deal." Frank's hand dropped to her hips "We take our own time till say 7 ish and then sit down for dinner and a movie."

"Oh my god, perfect" Fliss groaned. Frank shook his head as he snorted.

"When did we get so pathetic that we get our first child free evening in 6 months and you're gonna spend it reading about some lame ass British Detective and I'm gonna be screwing with boat parts?"

"Ok first off there is nothing pathetic about Detective Super Intendant Roy Grace and second off...will you be greasy?"

Frank's head fell back as a loud rumble of laughter erupted from his chest. When he looked back at Fliss she shrugged and he arched an eyebrow.

"You're terrible, you know that?"

"Not my fault you're such a dirty boat daddy."

"Dirty boat daddy?" Frank scoffed as he raised an eyebrow. "What the fuck..."

Fliss grinned as she traced Frank's bicep with the fingers of her right hand "You're my baby daddy...and you get dirty on boats..."

"You don't half talk some shit at times." He snorted and Fliss poked her tongue out, catching it between her teeth as she smiled.

"You love it."

 "I love you." He bent down pressing his lips to hers before he stepped back "Now come on, I got some grease to smear up my arms."

"Can you wipe some on your face too?" Fliss asked as the climbed in the truck. Frank merely rolled his eyes with a smirk in response.

 ****

 Fliss stretched her legs out as she reached the end of her chapter, Thor giving a little annoyed huff as she jostled his head from where it was laying in her lap as they sat curled up, snuggled into the cushions on the large window seat.

"Sorry boy." She chuckled, scratching behind his ears as she glanced outside over the garden. It was dark out, the various garden lights strung up on the fence illuminated the panels which separated their private space to the large garden that belonged to the next house along. They’d really lucked out on this property. The house itself was set into almost 2 acres of land, and not to mention the 8 that now belonged to Sandybrook Stables after they’d purchased the additional 3 at the back. Which reminded Fliss, she really should get the architect onto the re-design.

Reaching for her phone she gave a yelp as she realised what time it was. Almost 8pm. They’d gone well over an hour later than they’d agreed, and given that there was no sign of Frank, he too had clearly forgotten. She stood up, fired her mum a quick message and then called their favourite Italian, ringing through an order for delivery. The guy on the phone was apologetic, saying it would be at least 45 minutes before it arrived but Fliss assured him it was no bother. No sooner had she put the phone down than her mom sent her a message back which was a picture of Alex fast asleep in the crib at her parents, his little cheeks still slightly red, but he looked peaceful. Satisfied everything was ok, she bit her lip before she smiled to herself and pulled open the fridge, tossing a 6 pack into a cool box. Instructing Thor to stay she headed out the back door and round the side of the pool and out of the garden onto the main front area. The garage door was open, the light from inside streaming onto the gravel driveway and the low tones of AC/DC hit her ears as she approached along with Frank’s curses.

The reason for his cursing was simple. No matter how much digging into the boats engine, or twisting his hand at impossible angles, the mother fucking part still wouldn’t come out. Snarling in frustration, he yanked his hand out, and grabbed a wrench, hitting the metal against it, cursing “You son of a bitch, you’re coming out of there whether ya wa like it or not. I’ve been fahking with you all God damn night!”

Fliss climbed the ladder next to the boat and snorted as she set down the cooler on the boards of the deck, arching a brow. It wasn’t often that Frank lost his cool, but when he did, he usually turned a bit Boston.

“You alright Sailor or should I be worried?” she spoke, perching on the edge. Frank fell back on his heels, grabbing a rag to wipe at his grease-covered hands and looked round at her, his brow beaded with sweat.

“If you got a beer in that cooler there, then you got nothing to worry about.” His eyes were hopeful and Fliss leaned forward, popping open the top and drawing out the six-pack. Smiling, Frank pushed himself to a stand and took one, removing the cap and draining a good third of it in one go. “Confirmed, nothing to worry about now Cowgirl!”

Fliss grabbed herself a beer and watched as Frank stepped closer, his hands resting either side of her thighs as she sat perched on the edge of the hull. “You get bored reading already?”

“Well I’d read enough anyway, but then realised the time. Baby its gone 8.”

“Seriously?” Frank frowned and then sighed as Fliss nodded. “Shit, sorry, I lost track o’time.”

“It’s ok, I did the same.” Fliss shrugged “Guess a child free few hours really is a treat.”

Frank smiled softly “We should probably order dinner.

Fliss smirked “Already done, we got like…40 mintues.” she wrapped her hands around Frank’s neck and tugged him closer.

“Whoa whoa baby, I’m covered in shit.” He gave a laugh as he protested slightly.

Rolling her eyes, she snorted. “No, if you were covered in shit, it would be because I worked you for a day at the stables. You Frank…” Her voice lowered, and her eyes turned hooded, leaning up to his lips, whispering against them. “You are covered in grease, and that makes me so unbelievably hot for you, that if you don’t fuck me on this deck, I won’t forgive you.”

“Enough said, consider yourself fucked on deck Baby,” Frank smirked, catching Fliss’ lips. At that point the music changed and flicked over from Whole Lotta Rosie to You Shook Me All Night Long, Frank’s favourite song and he smirked against her mouth as he began to sing the first verse, all the time keeping his lips a mere centimetre or so away from hers.

“She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean, she was the best damn woman that I ever seen, she had the sightless eyes, telling me no lies, knocking me out with those American thighs…”

“Err British thighs, thank you.” Fliss corrected him. Frank simply arched an eyebrow and pulled her easily off the edge of the boat she was leaning against. She giggled as she wrapped her legs around his slim waist, leaning in to press her lips to his in a slow kiss as he walked them over to the benches at the rear of the boat. The kiss remained soft, teasing licks, a slow pace, but it was no less intense than a furious one, if anything it felt more powerful than normal, the pair of them truly alone for the first time in months. With each steady, deliberate tangle of their tongues, Fliss could feel everything. The heat, the spark, the butterflies swarming inside of her stomach.

In an easy, graceful moment Frank turned and sat on the edge of the bench, his hands letting go of Fliss’ hips as she straddled him, reaching up to cup the sides of her face, holding her still while his mouth had its way with hers. Pulling back a little he softly bit her lip, drawing a groan from her mouth and he grinned, resting his forehead against hers.

“What the fuck was in that book you were reading?” he asked and Fliss laughed

“Rape, murder…” she pondered, before she grinned wickedly “A police man in a uniform with handcuffs…”

“So is it the Uniform or the handcuffs that have got you all worked up Pretty Girl?”

“Neither, it’s the dirty, boat Daddy that I’m currently straddling”

At that Frank tipped his head back in a loud laugh, his hands brushing Fliss’ hair back off her face. “I fahkin love you.” he chuckled, as she pressed her lips to his again.

“Good job.” She mumbled against his mouth “Seeing as you’re the father of my kids…and you’re marrying me.” She added as somewhat of an afterthought.

Kids. Plural.

Frank glanced at her, her eyes shining against the lights of the garage and he smiled softly, his chest tightening a little with emotion. Mary’s adoption had only been finalised a few weeks prior, the ink probably still wet on all the documents but in their mind it had been a done deal months ago, from the moment they’d made the decision. Still, it stirred all kinds of warm feelings in his chest when he heard her say it. She smiled, reaching up to brush her hands through the longer strands of hair on his head before her fingers delicately danced down over his shoulders, his strong arms before she gripped at the hem of his T-shirt. He raised his arms allowing her to pull it off, before she dropped her head and chained open mouthed, warm kisses across his collar bone.

Happy to let her take charge for a moment, Frank tipped his head back sighing as she nipped up his neck to his jaw, her mouth skating over the stubble of his beard before she met his mouth again and this time the kiss was fierce. In a flash, Frank fisted his hand in the loose t-shirt she was wearing, yanking it over her head, giving a soft groan as he realised she was wearing no bra. His large hands spread over her back, pulling her snug against his chest, his fingers sliding up and down her spine causing her to shiver a little, letting out a soft moan that morphed into that oh so familiar whimper he knew and loved.

“I could listen to you make that sound for days,” he muttered and Fliss smiled against his mouth, kissing him again. A few seconds later, deciding to push things a little as Fliss seemed to be in a demanding mood, Frank pulled back, his bright blue eyes almost icy with intensity and issued a single word instruction. “Strip” Fliss felt her stomach bottom out with excitement when his demand registered. She swallowed and stood between his legs, slipping down the shorts she was wearing, Frank’s eyes watching her as she then slid down her panties, her gaze never once leaving his face. When he finished looking her up and down as she stood naked in front of him, his eyes met hers a look of pure, unadulterated wonderment and appreciation on his face.

And it was all for her.

“Like what you see sailor?” she bit her lip, her skin tingling with excitement as Frank arched an eyebrow.

“Like you wouldn’t believe…” his hands reached out and grabbed her hips as he stood up, pivoting them so that the back of Fliss’ legs pressed against the bench he had been sat on. His hands slid up, thumbs brushing the underneath of her breasts as he kissed her once more, softly, before he pulled back, his lips gently sucking at that spot on her delicate neck, his teeth nipping at her skin.

“Wanna turn around and get on your knees for me baby girl?” he whispered his question. Fliss looked at him, wide eyed, and he noted that where there had at one time been a slight apprehension in those deep browns at being put in such a position, now there was nothing but excitement, and he wasn’t quite sure when that had changed. But it had, and he loved it. He loved the fact she trusted him, that she was happy to simply be pliant in his hands.  She nodded and turned, kneeling on the bench in front of him, bending over, gripping the back with her hands. Frank reached out, gently manoeuvring so she was positioned where he wanted her to be and then stepped back, biting back the groan that bubbled in his throat at the site of her there, ready and waiting.

Fliss’ head was spinning. She couldn’t see him, but could feel him behind her. He wasn’t touching her yet, but he didn’t have to. Just the fact she could feel the heat of his gaze and his presence was enough to send her into a freefall. Every inch of her skin felt like it was on fire, the ache between her legs intensifying with each passing second. Then she heard a soft thud—Frank dropping to his knees, she assumed, but the gentle press of his mouth to the inside of her left thigh was still a shock, even though she knew it was coming. She inhaled sharply and Frank paused, his hands sliding up the outside of her thighs.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice low with desire. “Yeah.” Fliss’ breath was equally loaded and she let out a sigh as his mouth traced a line of kisses up her thigh, then he moved to do the same to the inside of her right. Her eyes closed, Fliss breathed in slowly in an attempt to steady herself, to stay calm and collected. She was ridiculously close already and his mouth hadn’t even touched that part of her body yet. When his tongue finally made contact, she lost all semblance of cool. Her eyes flew open and she let out a loud cry as the tip of his tongue swirled against her made. It was mere seconds but she was already panting, her hands curling around the back of the bench, the feel of his beard scratching against her was almost too much. Frank fucking her with his mouth, from behind, on the deck of the boat, in their garage was the single hottest thing she had ever experienced, and she wanted it to last as long as possible. Frank however, seemed to have other ideas. Whilst he kept the slow, steady rhythm with ease, he let out a low hum, something he knew would send her wild.

“Fuck,” she whined. “Frank, I…” His tongue swirled faster, his hands gripping the outside of her thighs tightly as she felt the pressure inside her turn white hot. When he slipped his finger inside her she gasped, his mouth matching every gentle but firm thrust his hand made.  It all resulted in a sensation so heavenly, it was agonizing and it spread from between her legs to the farthest reaches of her body, until she could take it no more. With a loud cry she came, hard, pushing back onto his face and her knees buckled slightly, her hand slipping on the wooden rail of the bench, her body and mind completely gone. Frank stood up, giving her a moment as he quickly shed his jeans and boxers before his hands gripped her hips and he bent over to kiss her neck. “You good?” he asked and she gave a hum of satisfaction as she turned her head to look at him, her brown eyes meeting his as she nodded. “Jesus Frank…” she stuttered and he smirked, his grin slipping slightly as she reached back and gripped him in her hand, a choked little grunt escaping his own mouth as her palm tightened around his now throbbing cock. His hands dropped to her hips and he pulled her backwards and up slightly, manoeuvring her so she was exactly where he needed and with smooth, fluid thrust forward he slid slowly into her, the deliberate languid pace allowing her to feel every glorious inch of him. “Lissy,” he growled, and that was the last word he uttered as he thrust into her over, and over, screams and cries and grunts filling the air in the large garage, echoing slightly off the walls. As his hands tightened on her hips, Fliss knew he was close and so was she. He let go with his right hand, dropping it round between her legs to palm her clit and the warm press of his hand combined with the steady rhythm of his thrusts sent Fliss over the edge again and just as a low growl ripped from Frank’s throat, orgasm number two spiked through her. Only this time when she lost it, she was a complete mess.  Every single muscle in her body cramped and quivered as she tensed in front of Frank, bucking violently until she sagged forward, her sailor’s arms wrapping around her as he gave a few more deep thrusts before he shuddered, his arms tightening their hold and he groaned loudly, his hips faltering as he came with a surge that brewed right from his feet. They both remained still for a second until Frank slowly and gently pulled away. He pressed his lips to Fliss’ lower back, showering her in gentle kisses, as he made his way up her spine before he reached the crook of her shoulder. Fliss’s eyes were still closed but her face sported a sated smile as she let out a hum of satisfaction.  Picking her up, Frank sat down on the bench so she was cradled in his lap, reaching for the tartan blanket that was draped over the seat a few down and he wrapped it around them both, kissing her hair line.

“Suppose that’s one way to christen the boat.” She eventually spoke and Frank chuckled.

"God bless the good lady Felicity...and all who sail in her." He retorted, giving a little salute. Fliss snorted and slapped his arm.

“You’re such a wanker.” She shook her head and Frank laughed, kissing her gently”

“You love it, honey.” “No, I love you. Which means I put up with all your wanker-ish traits because I have no choice.”

****

 Once Frank had showered he made his way downstairs dressed comfortably in a pair of sweats and t-shirt. Fliss had already laid the take-out boxes on the counter so he parked himself down on one of the stools as Fliss handed him a beer, taking a glass of wine for herself. They talked as they ate, Fliss teasing Frank about getting him a display cabinet for his baseball trophy to which he snorted and told her he wasn't intending on making it a habit. Once they'd finished their food, they cleared the dishes and Frank made his way to the sofa whilst Fliss let Thor out into the yard as he was pawing at the door. 

Frank absentmindedly flicked through the news channels, pausing at a report on Trump's latest activity and the reaction to a stupid tweet he had made regarding guns and he shook his head, scoffing in disgust.

"I dont know why you watch anything about him." Fliss called as she shut the door "it just winds you up."

"His brain is a fucking scribble" Frank retorted, "I mean...just look at him Fliss!"

"I'd rather not!" She called back, shooing Fred down from where he had hopped up onto the kitchen counter. 

"President of the free world and he's an absolute tool." Frank continued his chunnering as he stretched out, his legs on the coffee table and his arms extending quite forcefully behind his head as he yawned. Unfortunately, Fliss had chosen that exact moment to cross the room ready to wrap her arms around him from behind and as she bent to do so the back of Frank's closed left fist connected with the top of her left cheekbone, just in the outside corner of her eye, and she gave a yelp of surprise. As soon as it happened Frank jerked his head round and as he saw Fliss recoiling from the accidental blow his blood ran cold.

"Shit..." he sprang over the back of the couch, ignoring Thor who was now growling furiously at him. "Oh my god, Lissy, I'm so fahkin' sorry..." 

She straightened up blinking, her hands falling to his biceps as he gently cradled her face. "Frank its fine, you just caught my eye a little that’s all, it won't even bruise."

"Well, maybe not but..."

"Did you-Thor!" Fliss yelled at the dog, turning to look at him "Stop!" The German shepherd fell silent and flopped his butt down on the floor, his dark amber eyes still fixed on Frank, as Fliss turned back to him. "Did you mean to do it?"

"No, of course not..."

"Then there you go. It was an accident." She smiled, "it wasn't even hard enough to bruise, trust me, I know."

"That's not funny." Frank said quietly and Fliss sighed.

"It wasn't meant to be." She shook her head as Frank's eyes roved her face, utter dismay across every inch of his own. "Frankie..."

"Baby, I'm so..."

"Stop apologising." She said softly "it was an accident. Nothing more." Frank looked at her again before she stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. "Please don't."

"Don't what?" He asked

"Worry that you've hurt me, or scared me. Because you haven't." She shook her head "would you be this bothered if I didn't have the history I did?"

Frank hesitated. Of course he'd be bothered about hitting his girl, regardless of it being accidentally, but she was right. He wouldn't feel the concern he did has she not been subjected to the abuse she had suffered previously. He gave a little sheepish shrug and Fliss shook her head again, smiling.

"I'm not made of glass Sailor, I'm not gonna shatter over something like this. Not anymore." She took his hand in hers, pressed a kiss to his knuckles and then let go. Frank dropped it to his side, curling both hands on her hips as her arms slid up round his neck. "Can we forget this now and snuggle up with a movie?"

Frank nodded "ok, sounds good..."

After a little deliberation and poking around the channels Fliss’ eyes lit up when she realised that one of the channels was now dedicated to James Bond, the next movie showing being Skyfall, one of her favourites.  However, fifteen minutes in Frank felt her head growing heavy against his chest as they lay sprawled on the sofa. He glanced down to see her eyes closed, her lids fluttering slightly, lashes laying against her cheeks as she slept. With a smile he pressed a kiss to her head, his hand gently resting around her back as she lay snuggled into him. It can’t have been much more than twenty minutes later when he too felt his eyes growing heavy, the exertion of the day finally getting to much for him and he nodded off, both of them waking with a jolt when the music for the end credits kicked in and Fred hopped up onto the back of the sofa before landing on Frank’s chest by Fliss’ head with a loud purr.

“Jesus Fred…” Frank grumbled, pushing him off as Fliss sat up, blinking. “Fucking one eyed bastard.”

Fred glared at him and slunk off, jumping up onto the armchair where he curled up, his tail flicking.

“What a rock and roll lifestyle we lead.” Fliss stretched slightly as she yawned and Frank shrugged.

“Well we had a busy day.” “Even busier evening.” She quipped and Frank chuckled, his hand rubbing at her back before she stood up, her hands rubbing at her eyes. With a heave Frank swung his legs off the couch and he too stood, pulling his girl into a hug.

“You go up, I’ll sort Thor check the doors.”

She gave him a quick peck and then left him to it, padding tiredly up the stairs. She headed into the bathroom to clean her teeth and was just climbing in between the soft sheets when Frank walked into the room, Thor behind him, the dog flopping down with a sigh into his basket. Fliss’ eyes fell to the empty bassinet and she suddenly felt a little pang for her missing baby, but she knew from the various texts and the conversation she’d had with her parents earlier that he was perfectly fine so she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

It wasn’t long before Frank joined her in bed and she shuffled over to him, tossing her leg over his as he kissed her forehead, his hand sliding up the back of her sleep cami, palm warm against her skin.

“Love you.” He yawned and she smiled.

“Love you too.” She sighed contentedly, her eyes closing as they both drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

 *****

Frank woke the next morning to an empty bed. With a stretch he rubbed his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. Of course it would be too much to hope Fliss would be able to lay in. And then he turned over to check the time and did a double take. It was almost 10 am.

“Fuck!” he gave a little chuckle. Guess he’d been a lot more tired than he thought. Swinging his legs out of bed he padded into the bathroom, sorted his bladder out and went about the rest of his normal morning routine before he grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of sweats and headed downstairs. He paused in the doorway to the large family area, watching as she was stood at the stove, dressed in one of his button downs. It skimmed the curve of her ass, ending in the middle of her thighs and he smiled as he watched her move. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he saw her like this in the kitchen, it was certainly before Alex was born, most likely on one of their kid free Friday nights that had abruptly halted when he’d arrived, not that Frank would change a thing about it mind, but it was still nice to have it back, even it if was just for one morning.

He thought back to the first time he saw her dressed in one of his shirts. It was a Saturday in his old apartment, not long after they'd started dating. He found her in the kitchen much like she was now, making a coffee having woken early and not wanted to disturb him. He remembered thinking it was the first time a woman had ever done that, made herself at home, because in fairness she was the only woman that had lasted longer than a night in 8 years. It had stirred something in him then, a feeling of contentment, much like the one he was feeling now. His life had changed dramatically since she’d walked into it approximately 2 and a half years or so. In some ways the time had flown by, in others it felt like a life time when he considered everything they’d been through, both of them so far from the people they had been, yet so similar too.

With a smile he stepped into the room and walked over to her, and the fact she didn’t jump when he wrapped his arms aroud her from behind told him she’d been well aware of his presence in the doorway for a while.

“I thought we were supposed to be having a lazy morning complete with lie in” Frank’s hand gently brushed Fliss’ wild locks off her neck before he pressed a kiss to her skin

“I did.” Fliss smiled “I didn’t wake up until 8:30. Normally your son has me up at 6.”

“Our son.”

“When he wakes me up at 6 am he’s your son.” She turned her head to glance at him. “Dad’s gonna collect Mary and drop them both off at half past midday ish.”

“Well then, you really could have stayed in bed.” He pouted and she chuckled.

“Once I’m awake I’m awake…” she shrugged “No point staying there.”

“You should’a woken me up, I could’a given you a good reason to stay put.” His lips pressed more kisses to her neck and Fliss laughed, swatting at his head playfully.

“I’ll burn breakfast.”

“So?”

“I’m hungry.”

“So am I.”

“I meant for food.” She turned in his arms and he shrugged playfully giving her a deep kiss.

“Morning honey.” He smiled against her lips and she let out a little chuckle.

“Morning hot shot.” She grinned, patting his chest “you wanna set the places and pour us a coffee each? This is nearly done.”

Doing as he was told, Frank stepped back, grabbing cutlery and placing it on the breakfast bar before he made them both a coffee and grabbed the orange juice and a couple of glasses. As he set it all down on the side, Fliss dropped two plates of pancakes, bacon and eggs on the place mats and Frank gave a little groan of delight.

“You didn’t have to do this.” He looked at her.

“It’s just breakfast” she shrugged “Plus, thought it would be nice, just the two of us. And I wanted to talk to you.”

“Sounds ominous.” He arched an eyebrow as she sat next to him.

“No, not really.” She shrugged “I was just thinking yesterday a little. I wanna go back to work Frank, like full time. I’m ready.”

“Okay.” He nodded, “That’s fine. Did you think I was gonna protest or something?”

“No, I just wanted to discuss it, remember, we said we would do that after last time?”

“Liss, this is different.” He said, shaking his head as he cut into a pancake. “He’s almost 6 months old now, we’ll be weaning him soon.” “Yeah, I was thinking I can start pushing up the hours and then when he’s fully converted onto solids, which by the way, I’m not looking forward to those nappy changes…” she wrinkled her nose and Frank laughed, popping a piece of his breakfast into his mouth “well, when all that’s done then I’m back to full time.”

“Like I said, if you’re ready then fine.” Frank looked at her, hi hand dropping to her knee. “Guess we should start looking for a childminder huh?”

“Mum said she’d help out but I don’t want her to have him all the time, she’s got her own life. But I was thinking she could maybe have him two days a week, as she’ll sulk if I don’t let her have him some time.” Fliss shrugged “The other days, I thought we could speak to the one that Bonnie’s sister uses. She’s not far from Mum and Dad.” “Yeah, ok. Get her number and we’ll go meet her.” Frank agreed, shovelling more of his breakfast into his mouth.

“I also wanna call the architect that Steeby knows” Fliss added, taking a bite of food “Start getting the plans drawn up for the expansion. I’d really like to have that completed by the wedding. We got nearly 7 months. I think it’s doable. The additional stables won’t take long, or the lunging pen and the paddock move. The big job is gonna be the extension to the office and tack room but…again, a couple of weeks and Dad reckons it’ll be done. He doesn’t think that it’ll be much over 12 weeks in total if we get the right guys on the job.” Frank nodded “Well, the land is already ours so, go for it.”

“Yeah?” Fliss smiled and Frank returned the gesture, squeezing her knee.

“Yeah, let’s do it. Get the designs drawn up and some quotes for the work.”

“I love you.” Fliss beamed, leaning over to kiss him softly and he smiled, his nose bumping hers slightly.

“That’s because I’m a very lovable guy” he grinned and Fliss snorted, pulling back.

“Suppose so.”

They ate their breakfast and once the dishes were over they both retired to the sofa, Frank flicking on the news channel, Fliss picking up her book again, Fred curling up behind her head on the sofa back, Thor jumping up beside her. Frank gave a grunt and a huff, pushing the dog’s huge paw off his thigh before he flopped down, head in his lap. It was lazy, comfortable and remained that way until at midday, Fliss headed upstairs to pull on something a little more substantial than Frank’s shirt, much to his chagrin. When she came down dressed in a pair of breaches and a polo shirt little over 20 minutes later he smiled at her.

“You got a class this afternoon?”

“Yeah I’m taking Mary’s one at 2.” She said. “But I need to ride Cap  beforehand and then Bronson needs working and Heidi could do with a walk round the trail too, her back leg keeps swelling up.” “Still bad?”

Fliss wrinkled her nose as she crossed to the fridge “Nothing unusual for her age, the vet said it’s a touch of arthritis which is why I don’t school her any more. It tends to go down when she’s done a bit of walking. If I take her for half an hour hack round she’ll be fine. It’s when it stops going down that I’ve got a problem, but I don’t even want to think about that.” She shook her head, pulling the water out of the fridge. “I can’t imagine my life without her.”

“She’s certainly been with you a long time.” Frank looked at her and Fliss nodded

“20 years this year.” She sighed “Hard to believe really. She was the first horse I ever owned, best one I could have hoped for.”

“How long do you think Mary has with Monty?” Frank asked, declining Fliss’ offer of a glass of water. “I mean till she outgrows him.” “She won’t” Fliss shook her head “I can still ride Monty, he’s a welsh cob. Chunky, she’ll be good with him until he drops. But I do think she’ll be looking for something a little more advanced as well in a couple of years, when Monty needs to slow down again, but we can cross that bridge when we get there.”

“Oh, great.” Frank rolled his eyes and Fliss laughed as she sat next to him.

“Behave, it’s not like it costs anything to keep another.” “I’m referring to the advanced bit.” Frank looked at her “Still scares the crap out of me when she sails over those damned fences.”

“She’s good at it.” Fliss shrugged “If she gets placed in the final competition next month she’s got third place over all. She wins it, then she’s gonna take second. Not to mention the fact that she’s basically already won the Junior Rider class. Not bad for a first season.”

Frank smiled proudly, but before he could say anything else the back door opened and Mary skipped inside, her voice carrying over the room.

“That’s just not true Poppa B and you know it!” She sing songed and Bill rolled his eyes as he carried Alex’s car chair inside.

“Is so.” He nodded “I know someone it happened to.”

“Nah ah!” she shook her head “When you swallow gum it can’t physically wrap around your ribs as when you eat it goes down to your stomach. It’s impossible.”

“Smart ass.” Bill chuckled as Fliss stood up, crossing the room.

“Hi!” she smiled, before she beamed down at Alex who grinned and started to thrash his legs and arms about at the sight of his momma, screeching. “Hi baby, I missed you!”

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Mary looked at Fliss who laughed, and pulled her into a hug.

“And you, dur!”

“You have a good time?” Frank asked as Mary flopped next to him.

“Yeah, we had fish tacos.” Mary smiled “They were well nice.” “Fish tacos.” Frank made an approving noise in his throat.

“Yeah and then we watched some more of The Mandalorian. And I had hot chocolate and went to bed.” Fliss, who now had Alex cradled in her arms, turned to face them both. “Sounds better than my night.” She quipped giving Frank a wink as he raised an eyebrow.

“Oh does it?”

“Why does something tell me I don’t wanna know?” Bill asked and Fliss turned to look at her dad, an innocent look on her face.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She chuckled “I just helped Frank with some stuff on the boat.”

“Sure you did.” Bill rolled his eyes before his eyes twinkled cheekily “Hope you scrubbed the deck afterwards.”

**** Chapter 19

[tripleaxeldiaz]

maybe one day i’ll fly next to you

chapter 1/8

read on ao3

The sun is just rising when he gets to the rink, the early morning light streaming in through the high windows, making the ice glow. He’s the first one there, just like he planned, so he gets to take his time getting ready. He stretches a bit in the locker room before lacing up his skates and heading to the ice. Placing his guards on the boards, he takes a minute to just look, relishing in the stillness, the quiet, the smooth surface of the untouched ice. He takes one step, two, and he’s off, gliding through the mirrored surface, carving his path as he goes.

Buck can’t remember a time when skating wasn’t his entire life. He first put on skates at four, wobbling on the side of the rink while Maddie was in lessons. He started lessons of his own at six, and after that, he never stopped thinking about being on the ice. And he was good, too — by eight he was competing in the regional circuit, already landing a handful of clean triples when most kids were still struggling with doubles. He qualified for his first nationals at 10, won gold in Juniors at 11, and by the time he qualified for Junior Grand Prix at 13, people already knew his name. They knew his “modern artistry” as they called it, his powerful jumps, and talked about him like he was someone worth watching out for once he made it to the senior level.

It helped that by then, Buck was already addicted to competition. He loved skating on its own — the power he felt when he jumped and flew across the ice, the beauty of well-executed spirals and step sequences — but nothing made him feel more alive than doing it in front of a crowd and a panel of judges. Landing each element perfectly sent a thrill through him that he never wanted to stop feeling, and seeing his scores, usually much higher than others, was something that never got boring. He wanted to be the best, was on his way to being the best, and those hazy dreams of an Olympic gold medal didn’t feel quite as hazy anymore.

For a while, at least. Until he showed up.

But Buck doesn’t want to think about him right now, he just wants to enjoy the peace and quiet while he can. He’s not skating to anything in particular, just the music in his head taking him wherever feels right. He’s so lost in it, trying to nail the bit of choreo he just made up, that he doesn’t even notice Bobby until he hears him clapping from the benches. 

“Looks good, Buck. Talk to Hen, I think that would work in your new short.”

“Thanks Bobby,” Buck says, making his way to the boards. Bobby hands him his guards and his water bottle, heading back towards the locker room.

“Come on, we’re just about to get started.”

Bobby and Athena have had this beginning of the season meeting for as long as Buck has been at their club. They go over assignments for Grand Prix and the Challenger series, figure out general training schedules, and do a “goal setting session” for what they want to accomplish this season. 

Bobby calls it a “family meeting”, which is cute but also annoying. Skating isn’t a team sport. Families don’t win medals. And that’s all Buck wants to accomplish every season until he retires: he wants to win.

He sits down on a bench next to Maddie, who’s deep in conversation with Athena about her and Chimney’s programs, he’s sure. She’s been planning them since Worlds, so they’re probably fully choreographed and ready for competition. The Buckleys are nothing if not overachievers.

Bobby clears his throat, standing in front of the roll-away white board, and gets started. Buck’s half paying attention — it’s the fifth time he’s heard the “athletes aren’t born, they’re made” speech, he gets the point — letting his eyes wander over the small crowd of skaters. Chim’s on Athena’s other side, nodding along with Bobby. May and Hen are standing along the lockers, whispering quietly. The Juniors kids are sitting on the floor, in awe of their coach as he talks about hard work and victory. Buck gets it, he’s still a little in awe of Bobby himself, but not so much of his recycled speeches.

There’s one face, though, that he doesn’t see, and for a minute, he’s hopeful. He’s gone, he moved, he went to work with Rafael in Lakewood or something, so I’ll only have to see him maybe four times a year instead of every goddamn day thank god—

The doors to the locker room burst open, and fuck. 

Because, nope, he’s still here. Windswept and out of breath and 15 minutes late, yet somehow still oozing confidence and jackassery.

Eddie Diaz. Olympic Bronze Medalist. Two time reigning World Champion. And the absolute bane of Buck’s existence.

Bobby doesn’t even say anything, just waves him in and keeps talking. If Buck had been that late, even if it was for a good reason, he would have had his ass handed to him in front of everyone and would’ve had to run laps or something after his ice time. But of course, Eddie gets a pass.

Whatever.

Buck doesn’t pay much attention to the rest of the meeting, too busy trying to keep himself from glaring at Eddie every 20 seconds. He tunes in enough to hear that they’ll both be going to Skate America and NHK because of course they are and spends the rest of the meeting trying to keep his blood pressure down. When it’s finally over, he makes his way through the crowd to get back to the ice for his first session with Bobby. He’s scrolling through his phone, trying to find his music, when he feels someone walk over and join him on the bench. He looks over, and lo and behold— 

“Eddie,” he says with what he hopes is a low level of contempt.

“Buck,” Eddie responds, looking over and nodding as he laces up his skates. “Good summer?”

“Fine.”

“Ready for the season?”

“Always am.”

Eddie smiles, easy and charming, and Buck hates his fucking guts. He nods at him again as he heads onto the ice, and Buck gives into the temptation to thump his head against boards a few times.

It’s going to be a very long year.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck has hated Eddie since they were 16 years old.

Okay, maybe “hate” is a little strong, but whatever emotion it is when just looking at a person makes you feel like smoke is coming out of your ears, that’s how he feels. 

It was his first season in Seniors, and he had been doing better than he expected in the first half — a silver and a bronze at his Grand Prixs, and fifth at the Grand Prix Final. Nowhere near perfect or the best in the world, but he was the best US men’s skater and poised to win gold at Nationals. He hadn’t even heard the name “Eddie Diaz” until he got to Nats, and even then it was just whispers — some small town kid from Texas who was landing clean quadruple jumps at a time when some of the highest ranked skaters couldn’t. Buck was working on them — his coach kept harping on how important they’d be to the sport one day — but he’d hit a growth spurt just before the beginning of the season, so he was still getting used to his new center of gravity. 

But the rumors were true, Buck saw it with his own eyes at a practice session. He remembers the mix of awe and dread as he watched Eddie jump — the thoughts of damn I want to be as good as this kid and he’s about to take everything from me.

Eddie won Nats by about 30 points. Buck came in second. The US only had one spot at both Four Continents and Worlds, and Eddie got picked for both. Something about having “a better chance with his abilities and consistency in the international field” or some other bullshit. 

He didn’t podium at either. Buck felt shamelessly vindicated.

Over the next three years, they became perfect foils of each other — Buck with good jumps but better artistic expression and connection to the music, Eddie a little stiff but a blur of height and speed in the air. They flip-flopped at competitions — Buck got silver, Eddie got gold. Buck got gold, Eddie got bronze. Nats turned into a yearly showdown, the media always highlighting their “friendly rivalry”. Buck must have been a better actor than he thought if he was coming across as “friendly”.

He won Nats right before the Olympics, pretty much guaranteeing his chances of getting named to the Olympic Team. Two days before the announcement, he broke his leg on a bad landing and felt his dreams shatter along with the bone. 

Eddie went instead. He placed third, higher than any US man had placed in 12 years. 

Buck watched it all from his couch, unsure if he’d ever be able to skate again.

Fast forward three seasons, and while Buck is still struggling to get his consistent jumps back, Eddie keeps skyrocketing. He hasn’t lost a major competition in two years and is the overwhelming favorite to win the gold medal in Beijing. It was bad enough to hear about it from other skaters or see at competitions, but then Eddie moved to Bobby and Athena’s club a year ago, so now Buck gets to suffer through first hand observation.

It simultaneously pushes him harder and makes him want to die.

Which is the exact feeling he has right now as he watches Eddie land a perfect quad toe triple toe combo. He tried the same combo yesterday and landed flat on his ass, so now he just wants to practice it over and over until it’s perfect and he can rub it in Eddie’s smug face. See, you’re not the only one who can do it. You’re not that special.

“You better watch how hard you’re frowning, Buckaroo, you’re gonna get wrinkles,” Hen says as she walks over to him. She follows his line of sight, and her expression turns from vaguely worried to exasperated. “Staring that hard at Eddie isn’t gonna make him fall.”

“It could,” he says. “Maybe I have untapped psychic powers that are just waiting to come out.”

She gives him a flat look. “Sure, and I’m the long lost crown princess of a small European country. Can we go over your free instead of fantasizing about stupid things, please?”

“Fine, fine,” Buck says, finally turning away from Eddie as he steps on the ice.

He loves his programs this season — he usually doesn’t get used to them for a few months, but this time around, he already feels connected. His short is more modern, melancholic and gritty, while his free is more classic, hopeful, makes him feel like he’s floating rather than skating. He’s always been good at choreography — either taking it and making it his own or creating steps himself — and he feels like both really highlight his talents. Plus Hen, being the amazing choreographer and friend that she is, let him have a lot more input this time around, so it all feels more authentic. He likes to think that no matter what happens, he’ll be proud of whatever he puts out with these pieces.

They work on his free for an hour, and he stays an extra two to work on his short and his jumps on his own. By the time he leaves, the sun has set, his legs are already sore, and he has a lovely bruise blossoming on his right thigh from falling on his quad flip three times in a row.

It’s all worth it, though. Because as much as he wants to be happy with his programs no matter what, he knows he won’t be unless they get him to the top of that podium, hearing the national anthem play with a gold medal around his neck.

~~~~~~~~~~

He’s floating away in his dream, higher and higher like a runaway helium balloon. He can see the whole world below him, spread out and endless, rolling hills and forests and oceans. He wonders if he’ll ever come back down, or if he’ll just keep moving up and up, into the atmosphere, into space, into a different universe. He thinks that might not be so bad.

Suddenly, he’s falling, plummeting back down to Earth like an asteroid. He’s racing and racing towards the ground, bracing for impact, for everything in his body to break, he’s falling and falling faster and faster—

He wakes with a yell, covered in sweat, his leg twinging. He takes a few minutes to breathe and get his heart rate back down, but even then, he’s still shaking.

He looks at the clock. 4:30am. He could go back to sleep — he doesn’t have practice until noon. 

Except his mind is churning now with the phantom memory of breaking. The feeling of going from standing to not being able to move, pain radiating from his leg into every other part of his body. The panic, not just for his body, but for his whole life and what it could turn into. What he could lose.

He lays there for another half an hour, but the memories just keep burning. So, he does what he always does when he needs to shut his mind off.

He goes to the rink.

First practice isn’t until 8am, so he uses his keys to unlock the back door. Chuck, the janitor, was sick of waiting two extra hours to lock up after him, so he gave him his own set after his first season. Buck gives him a giant cookie bouquet for Christmas every year in return.

He feels better after just a few laps around the ice. The chill that bites as he speeds up his pace, the white noise of his blades in the ice, it all settles him like nothing else. He speeds up still, setting up for a triple Salchow — easy, almost second nature, a jump he could do in his sleep. He pushes off, but as soon as he’s airborne, something jolts through him, makes his stomach turn over. He pops the jump to a single and lands on the wrong edge, losing his balance and sprawling across the ice on his back. He stays there, staring up at the lights, letting the cold leech in through his sweatshirt. 

Almost four years later, and this is still happening. He scares himself out of jumps like he expects each one to end badly, even though he knows — logically, statistically knows — that it’s unlikely. 

And yet. Here he is. On his back. After another failure.

He’s too tired to feel pissed or frustrated like he usually does, so he’s just resigned. Today is not the day for jumps. That’s just how it is.

He gets up finally and skates over to his bag, digs his headphones out and queues up his short program music. He works through the step sequences, over and over, making little tweaks as necessary, thinking through where the judges could take off points until it’s perfect. The repetition quiets the last of his racing thoughts, and he finally feels like himself again. 

He’s moving into his last spin when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He slows down enough to recognize Eddie, inching towards the locker room like he’s trying not to be seen.

Buck stops, staring Eddie down. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Eddie freezes eyes wide, looking suspiciously guilty. He walks forward, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I have an 8am and wanted to beat traffic on my way in. The back door was open when I got here, and I saw the lights on, so I—” he swallows, looking anywhere but Buck’s face. There’s a blush crawling up his neck, and he looks nervous.

Nervous like he just got caught somewhere he shouldn’t be, Buck thinks. He narrows his eyes as he checks his watch — it’s 7:00. He gets wanting to beat traffic, but a whole hour?

He quickly makes his way off the ice, grabbing his bag from the bench. “Well, I’m done for now, it’s all yours.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says quietly. Buck’s just about through the door when he hears his name. He turns back to Eddie, his blush now all the way up to his hairline.

“You looked good out there. Can’t wait to see it in competition.”

Buck freezes, processing the compliment. A compliment. From Eddie. They hardly talk unless they have to, and even then it’s never friendly. Cordial, sure, but not friendly.

So why is he being so nice now?

Buck just narrows his eyes again before stalking off to the lockers.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Mads, I really think he’s gonna pull a Tonya Harding on me.”

She looks at him over her wine glass, unimpressed. “Yeah, because that worked out so well for Tonya the first time.”

“I’m serious!” he says, taking a sip from his own glass. Neither of them drink during the season, so they’re taking full advantage of their weekly wine nights while they can. Buck’s not a lightweight by any means, but two glasses in and he is starting to feel a little fuzzy. And a little crazy, trying to figure out what Eddie was up to this morning. “You haven’t seen any weird guys lurking around have you? You’d tell me if you did, right?”

Maddie rolls her eyes. “You sound insane.”

“I’m not insane if I’m right. Why else would he be watching me?”

“We all watch each other, Buck! He was watching Chim and me yesterday too while he was on break. He even said our twizzles were really in sync.”

“You better watch your back too, maybe he’s trying to take the whole club out.”

“Oh my god,” she says, pouring another, very full glass.

“He’s just so— he’s—”

“Annoyingly perfect? Obnoxiously talented? I know, Buck, you only bring it up every 15 minutes.”

Buck deflates at that. “I don’t— it’s not that often.” Sure, he rants about how clean Eddie’s edges are and how good his quad flip is, but that’s because it’s so irritating. Buck works just as hard as Eddie, and he knows he’s not flawless. But somehow, Eddie is. Stupidly flawless and perfect and— 

“I’m just saying,” she says, squeezing his hand across the table and bringing him back to the conversation. She pours him another generous glass, too. “This energy is great, but it would probably be better to put more of it into practice and less of it into worrying about one of your competitors. I know you’re nervous about this season, but you can’t let that turn into this weird paranoia. Don’t let it take your head out of the game.”

He sits back and sighs. She’s right, of course. She always is.

He doesn’t tell her that, though. Just takes a gulp of wine and tries not to think about Eddie’s annoyingly perfect anything. 

~~~~~~~~~~

There’s a news truck parked outside the rink when he gets in the next morning, and he spends about 15 minutes contemplating just going home and telling Bobby he’s sick. 

The lead reporter — Taylor, he thinks — claims they’re here to do a profile on the club and how they’re preparing for the Olympics, but he knows they’re mostly here for Eddie. They want any and all sound bites they can get from him to use over and over and over in coverage leading up to Beijing. Quotes about hard work and following his dreams that they can play over footage of him skating and smiling after winning again. Buck’s already annoyed at the prospect of seeing them on NBC Sports for the next six months.

To their credit, they do film everyone practicing at some point. They get Maddie and Chim doing their new rotational lift, May landing her triple lutz that she’s been working on for months, and Buck’s nearly perfect (if he does say so himself) flying camel spin. So at least they have good footage of him, not just random shots in the background of Eddie’s. Maybe he’ll even get his own little promo. 

Bobby calls him into his office after lunch, where the news crew has set up an interview space. He wasn’t expecting to talk to anyone — maybe a quick question at the boards, but nothing this fancy. He sits in one of the chairs as someone puts powder on his face and tries to do something with his hair. Taylor sits down across from him, a 1000-watt smile turned on as the cameras start rolling.

“So, Evan. Or do you prefer Buck?”

“Evan’s fine.” As much as he hates his first name, it’s how the general public knows him. Buck is reserved for friends and family.

And Eddie, an annoying voice reminds him. Fine, friends and family and...competitors.

“You came in second at Nationals and Four Continents last year, and fourth at Worlds. How do you feel about the momentum going into this Olympic season?”

“Every season is different,” he says as diplomatically as possible. These reporters always want drama, someone slipping up and bragging about themselves when they have no right to. He’s not wrong — every season is different. No matter who’s expected to win or who has the most medals, you never know how everything will play out. “We haven’t had a men’s field this strong in a while, so it’ll be interesting to see what happens. But I’m as prepared as I can be at this point.”

“You were injured right before the last Olympics. Do you see this year as a bit of redemption for yourself?”

He feels his smile go tight. “It’s every kid’s dream to go to the Games. It’s certainly still mine. I’m ready to do whatever I can to make that dream come true.”

“Eddie Diaz has been with your club for just over a year now. What’s it like training with him?”

There it is, he thinks. He’s surprised she asked so many questions about him before getting to Eddie. The first responses he thinks of are all variations of he sucks and I can’t stand the sight of him, but he knows any petty answers will be worse for him personally than anyone else. So, as much as it pains him, he settles on the nicest version of the truth he can muster.

“Eddie’s an amazing skater,” he says, surprising himself at how genuine he sounds. “He’s been paving new paths in the sport, and he’s pushed everyone to be better to try and get on his level, myself included. He definitely brings that same energy to the club.”

“Do you think you can beat him this year?”

Wow, she’s not holding any punches.

He shrugs, smiling through the sudden burst of anxiety in his veins. “We’ll just have to wait and see.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

Despite his less than fiery interview, Taylor asks him what he’s doing after practice right before they leave. It’s easy enough to turn her down — he’s got an early PT appointment in the morning, plus the way she’s been looking at him all day is making him itchy. He can tell she only sees him as an object — as a means to get her name on a lead story or a body to keep her bed warm or both — and that’s just not something he’s interested in. Maybe a few years ago, when sex was a way for him to forget about the potential end of his career, but not now.

As nonchalant as he was in the interview, this season really could make or break him. 

He can’t afford any distractions.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Riding On

Ch 18-Home Run

Summary: Frank’s competitive side comes out to play during an event at Mary’s school, and then he and Fliss get their first child free evening in well over 6 months.

Warnings:  Bad Language words, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N:  SURPRISE!!! Turns out I can’t stop writing these two for long. Updates going forward on this probably won’t be as regular as they were but…it’s not really on hiatus anymore. It wasn’t really on hiatus at all to be fair as I’ve been writing this one since I posted the last!

Special thanks to @sweater-daddiesdumbdork for her little drabble which was posted as part of her Birthday Celebrations which I used in here.

Chapter Song:  You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC 

Series Masterlist //  WIYPT Masterlist

Taking more than her share, had me fighting for air, she told me to come, but I was already there, 'Cause the walls start shaking, the Earth was quaking, my mind was aching and we were making it. And you shook me all night long, yeah, you shook me all night long

Fliss watched as Frank adjusted the blue Red Sox hat on his head slightly, the baseball bat hanging loosely in one hand before he took up position, turning slightly to the side, his long fingers curling around the handle.

"Five bucks says he misses..." Bill spoke and Fliss gave him a dig in the ribs.

"No chance Poppa B" Mary laughed from where she stood in front of Fliss "Frank's got a wicked swing."

Fliss saw Frank who was laughing at something that one of the school teachers who was current performing the role of catcher before his face suddenly warped into one of utter concentrate as the pitcher wound up. Sure enough, a second or so later Frank swung the bat forward and with a satisfying cracking sound he connected with the baseball and set off at a sprint. Fliss and Mary cheered along with the rest of the crowd who had gathered to watch and Frank rounded first base, then onto second as the other guy positioned there had also started to make his way home. Frank made it to 3rd easily, and then Fliss spotted the expression on his face change as he glanced around and set off at a sprint clearly going for home. The gathered crowd started to yell as the ball came flying in towards the catcher but Frank was there just that little bit faster, dropping into a slide and his boot hit the little square marked out as home before the ball. He jumped up, a huge grin on his face as the other parents on the team all cheered and congratulated him, various other yells ringing out around the little playing field, Fliss, Mary, Bill and Verity joining in. 

"Told ya!" Mary shouted as she jumped up and down. "Home run!"

Fliss looked up at her dad who was chuckling as he watched Frank who was now doubled over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. He wiped at his dirty jeans, which were covered in the orange dust from the school playing field and glanced over towards them, shrugging playfully. 

"Well considering he said he would rather stick hot pins in his eyes than play in the Staff v Parents game he looks like he's enjoying himself." Bonnie grinned as she gently placed a hand on Fliss shoulder, leaning over to pull a face at Alex. The 6 month old baby grinned and waggled his arms furiously letting out a loud giggle, a stream of drool trickled down his chin and Fliss wiped it away with the bib round his neck.

"Well Mary called him a chicken." Fliss snorted, gently running a hand down Alex's flushed cheek, thankful he seemed to be in a temporary respite from his teething pain. "Said he was only refusing to take part because he was scared he wasn't good enough. And let's face it, he's not one to back down from a challenge is he?" 

Bonnie laughed and then someone called her away. Apologising she headed off and the family turned their attention back to the game. It finished about 20 minutes or so later when the last batter was caught out, but it didn't matter as the Parents had won anyway. They all let out a little cheer, before the two teams congratulated one another and dispersed, Frank making his way back over to where his family was stood. He chuckled as Mary ran towards him and he swung her up with a little huff and she tipped his hat back to look at him. 

"You're all sweaty." She pulled a face and Frank rolled his eyes as he set her down.

"Yeah, well it’s in the 70s and I've been running." He shrugged, dropping a kiss to Fliss' cheek.

"Hey babe...Ruth. She teased and Frank chuckled before he smiled at his baby boy.

"How's he feeling?"

"He seems OK." Fliss shrugged, looking at him. "Mind you, I've not tried putting him down yet since he stopped crying."

"Let me take him for a bit." Frank said and Fliss passed him over, Alex immediately reached up for his cap. Frank jerked his head out of the way, spinning his cap back to front, and Alex let out a noise of protest until Fliss handed him his teething ring from his buggy. They baby grabbed it and instantly jammed it into his mouth, chomping away whilst babbling to no one in particular. Frank dropped a kiss to his head as they walked over the field, making their way to the little refreshment tent where a few if the other parents all turned and cheered as Frank walked in. He grinned, flushing a little at the attention and nodded to Rosie's mom and dad as they wandered over to talk to them. Fliss glanced around and caught the eye of one of the other moms who she recognised as being the one who'd been chatting shit about Frank and Mary last June. She narrowed her eyes a little, staring the bitch out and the other woman hastily averted her gaze and making Fliss smirk.

"Stop it." Frank warned in her ear and she turned to look at him, her best innocent expression in her face.

"Stop what?"

"You know full well what." He arched an eyebrow and Fliss shrugged.

"She's a bitch." she offered as justification and Frank merely rolled his eyes, adjusting Alex slightly in his arms, turning the baby so his back was pressed to his chest, one strong arm under his butt, the other hand pressed over his little belly so they small boy could look round the tent. He waggled his arms and legs excitedly as he saw Bonnie who waved her fingers towards him and smiled as she passed with a box in her arms, heading towards the small table set out at the front. 

The rest of the gala passed fairly quickly. It had been pulled together as a way for teachers and parents to bond, a little bit of fun one Friday afternoon in February. And according to the Principal as she spoke, it was going to be a yearly thing from now on. The Staff V Parents Baseball Trophy was handed to the captain of the parents’ team, a tall dark haired man whose daughter was in first grade who grinned and teased the staff members about how good it would look in the cabinet in the entrance hall with the word Parents engraved on the plate for at least the next 12 months, and then there were a few individual trophies handed out. One for best catch which went to the 3rd grade tutor, best display of acrobatics which went to Rosie's dad for his specular trip over his own feet as he ran to 3rd base, most animated player which went to the school's janitor who had been ferociously rallying his team all afternoon and then finally the Top Slugger trophy which to Fliss' delight was awarded to Frank for his absolute peach of a hit and home run. Frank let out a little groan as his name was called and everyone in the tent turned to face him. He accepted his trophy with one hand, Alex still held easily to his chest with the other and declined to say much other than he'd had fun and it has been a nice afternoon, thanking everyone who has organised the day, before cheekily quipping it was about time Bonnie did some actual work, which earned him a slap upside the head when she was walking past him later. 

Eventually it was time to leave and they made their way back to the cars. Mary retrieved her stuff from Frank's truck, handing it to Bill who tossed it into his Range Rover before Frank then handed Bill a changing bag for Alex as Fliss picked him up from the stroller so Bill could collapse it.

"Sure you don't mind dropping Mary off at Roberta’s?" Frank asked as Bill popped the stroller into the trunk and closed it.

"Not at all, it's on the way." Bill smiled watching Mary give Fliss a hug goodbye before she turned and did the same to Frank. 

"Behave." He said sternly and she rolled her eyes.

"I always do."

"Huh must be just us you're a pain in the ass for." Frank shrugged, earning him a little dig in the stomach from Mary. He huffed a breath, grinning as she clambered into the back of the car. 

"One down...one to go." Bill muttered to where Fliss was holding Alex to her, gently kissing his head.

"Yeah and something tells me this one's gonna be a little more awkward to get in your car." Frank sighed and Bill chuckled. Frank turned to him "I know I don’t need to ask but..."

"He'll be fine." Bill smiled "travel cot and baby monitor all set up."

Frank gave a nod as Bill clapped him on the shoulder and they both turned to Fliss who was now talking to her mother in a worried tone as Alex was starting to grumble.

"You know, I'm not sure..."

"Stop. Now." Verity looked at Fliss, giving her a significant look and Fliss knew why. Her mom and dad taking Alex overnight was a trial run for a few weeks’ time when she was planning to take Frank away for the weekend as a birthday gift. It was more a trial run for her than Alex, mind, as she was still ridiculously clingy to him, a fact she knew and was actively trying to get over. 

"He's teething Fliss, not dying." Bill looked at her. 

"I know that" Fliss replied hotly "but he's a little grouchy and he's in pain..."

“So we'll dose him up with medicine, give him cuddles and let him sleep." Verity responded simply.

"Love, we've done this before remember? And we had 2 of them with Charlie and Joel." Bill chuckled as Fliss chewed on her lip.

"But what if he won't settle? I mean he's only just cut his first one and..."

"Honey, we're 15 minutes away." Frank soothed. 

“Yup, any issues we'll call and bring him straight back." Verity nodded. Frank looked at Bill who gave him a small wink which he understood perfectly. There was no way Alex was coming back tonight, even if he was grouchy. Frank knew Bill and V would just take it in their stride to give them their first child free night in well over 6 months. 

Fliss took a deep breath and nodded. "Ok, I know I'm flapping...I'm sorry..." 

She moved to the car and gently placed him in the car seat before Frank stepped forward to take it from their truck to Bill's. Once it was secured, he dropped a kiss to his head and moved so Fliss could so the same.

She stepped back, closing the door and Frank gently pulled her right hand away from her left where it had begun to worry at the knuckles, the way she always did when she was a little panicked. He laced his fingers with hers, thumb gently stroking the back of her hand in slow, comforting arcs, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Ok, we'll see you tomorrow." Bill smiled as he opened the driver’s side door. "And try to enjoy your night alone yeah? Ill permit one text an hour to check up otherwise I'll sever all communication."

Fliss rolled her eyes but stayed silent. Frank didn't miss the way her fingers squeezed around his as they waved goodbye to Bill's car as it pulled out of the space next to theirs. 

"So, what do you-" Frank stopped dead as he looked down at Fliss who has just burst into tears. "-oh honey!" He chuckled, as she pressed her face into his t-shirt, his arms wrapping around her, gently rubbing her back over her pale blue top. 

"I know I’m being stupid but I can't help it." She sobbed "He's my baby Frank and he has a sore mouth and he's been all grouchy and..."

"Yes he is, yes he does, and yes he has." Frank pulled back, cupping her face in his hands, wiping her tears away with his thumbs "But your mom and dad will be fine. The last few nights after his feed and some Orajel he's settled right down, and if he doesn't they've got the Tylenol. He'll be fine, I promise." 

Fliss nodded and Frank dipped his head, giving her a soft kiss. "Now, we got the rest of the afternoon and the entire night to ourselves...and dare I say it a lie in tomorrow morning." He grinned, turning to open the passenger door for her. "Do you wanna go out for a few drinks or..."

Fliss wrinkled her nose "is it bad I just wanna do nothing?" Frank laughed as Fliss shrugged "I mean I have a book that I haven't opened in like a week, I've got a bottle of pinot in the fridge..."

"So you wanna curl up on the window seat and not be disturbed?" Frank arched his eyebrow.

"Well, not all night." Fliss shook her head "but maybe for an hour or so when I finish the yard."

"Ok, well, let's make a deal." Frank's hand dropped to her hips "We take our own time till say 7 ish and then sit down for dinner and a movie."

"Oh my god, perfect" Fliss groaned. Frank shook his head as he snorted.

"When did we get so pathetic that we get our first child free evening in 6 months and you're gonna spend it reading about some lame ass British Detective and I'm gonna be screwing with boat parts?"

"Ok first off there is nothing pathetic about Detective Super Intendant Roy Grace and second off...will you be greasy?"

Frank's head fell back as a loud rumble of laughter erupted from his chest. When he looked back at Fliss she shrugged and he arched an eyebrow.

"You're terrible, you know that?"

"Not my fault you're such a dirty boat daddy."

"Dirty boat daddy?" Frank scoffed as he raised an eyebrow. "What the fuck..."

Fliss grinned as she traced Frank's bicep with the fingers of her right hand "You're my baby daddy...and you get dirty on boats..."

"You don't half talk some shit at times." He snorted and Fliss poked her tongue out, catching it between her teeth as she smiled.

"You love it."

"I love you." He bent down pressing his lips to hers before he stepped back "Now come on, I got some grease to smear up my arms."

"Can you wipe some on your face too?" Fliss asked as the climbed in the truck. Frank merely rolled his eyes with a smirk in response.

*******

Fliss stretched her legs out as she reached the end of her chapter, Thor giving a little annoyed huff as she jostled his head from where it was laying in her lap as they sat curled up, snuggled into the cushions on the large window seat.

"Sorry boy." She chuckled, scratching behind his ears as she glanced outside over the garden. It was dark out, the various garden lights strung up on the fence illuminated the panels which separated their private space to the large garden that belonged to the next house along. They’d really lucked out on this property. The house itself was set into almost 2 acres of land, and not to mention the 8 that now belonged to Sandybrook Stables after they’d purchased the additional 3 at the back. Which reminded Fliss, she really should get the architect onto the re-design.

Reaching for her phone she gave a yelp as she realised what time it was. Almost 8pm. They’d gone well over an hour later than they’d agreed, and given that there was no sign of Frank, he too had clearly forgotten. She stood up, fired her mum a quick message and then called their favourite Italian, ringing through an order for delivery. The guy on the phone was apologetic, saying it would be at least 45 minutes before it arrived but Fliss assured him it was no bother. No sooner had she put the phone down than her mom sent her a message back which was a picture of Alex fast asleep in the crib at her parents, his little cheeks still slightly red, but he looked peaceful. Satisfied everything was ok, she bit her lip before she smiled to herself and pulled open the fridge, tossing a 6 pack into a cool box. Instructing Thor to stay she headed out the back door and round the side of the pool and out of the garden onto the main front area. The garage door was open, the light from inside streaming onto the gravel driveway and the low tones of AC/DC hit her ears as she approached along with Frank’s curses.

The reason for his cursing was simple. No matter how much digging into the boats engine, or twisting his hand at impossible angles, the mother fucking part still wouldn’t come out. Snarling in frustration, he yanked his hand out, and grabbed a wrench, hitting the metal against it, cursing “You son of a bitch, you’re coming out of there whether ya wa like it or not. I’ve been fahking with you all God damn night!”

Fliss climbed the ladder next to the boat and snorted as she set down the cooler on the boards of the deck, arching a brow. It wasn’t often that Frank lost his cool, but when he did, he usually turned a bit Boston.

“You alright Sailor or should I be worried?” she spoke, perching on the edge. Frank fell back on his heels, grabbing a rag to wipe at his grease-covered hands and looked round at her, his brow beaded with sweat.

“If you got a beer in that cooler there, then you got nothing to worry about.” His eyes were hopeful and Fliss leaned forward, popping open the top and drawing out the six-pack. Smiling, Frank pushed himself to a stand and took one, removing the cap and draining a good third of it in one go. “Confirmed, nothing to worry about now Cowgirl!”

Fliss grabbed herself a beer and watched as Frank stepped closer, his hands resting either side of her thighs as she sat perched on the edge of the hull. “You get bored reading already?”

“Well I’d read enough anyway, but then realised the time. Baby its gone 8.”

“Seriously?” Frank frowned and then sighed as Fliss nodded. “Shit, sorry, I lost track o’time.”

“It’s ok, I did the same.” Fliss shrugged “Guess a child free few hours really is a treat.”

Frank smiled softly “We should probably order dinner.

Fliss smirked “Already done, we got like…40 mintues.” she wrapped her hands around Frank’s neck and tugged him closer.

“Whoa whoa baby, I’m covered in shit.” He gave a laugh as he protested slightly.

Rolling her eyes, she snorted. “No, if you were covered in shit, it would be because I worked you for a day at the stables. You Frank…” Her voice lowered, and her eyes turned hooded, leaning up to his lips, whispering against them. “You are covered in grease, and that makes me so unbelievably hot for you, that if you don’t fuck me on this deck, I won’t forgive you.”

“Enough said, consider yourself fucked on deck Baby,” Frank smirked, catching Fliss’ lips. At that point the music changed and flicked over from Whole Lotta Rosie to You Shook Me All Night Long, Frank’s favourite song and he smirked against her mouth as he began to sing the first verse, all the time keeping his lips a mere centimetre or so away from hers.

“She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean, she was the best damn woman that I ever seen, she had the sightless eyes, telling me no lies, knocking me out with those American thighs…”

“Err British thighs, thank you.” Fliss corrected him. Frank simply arched an eyebrow and pulled her easily off the edge of the boat she was leaning against. She giggled as she wrapped her legs around his slim waist, leaning in to press her lips to his in a slow kiss as he walked them over to the benches at the rear of the boat. The kiss remained soft, teasing licks, a slow pace, but it was no less intense than a furious one, if anything it felt more powerful than normal, the pair of them truly alone for the first time in months. With each steady, deliberate tangle of their tongues, Fliss could feel everything. The heat, the spark, the butterflies swarming inside of her stomach.

In an easy, graceful moment Frank turned and sat on the edge of the bench, his hands letting go of Fliss’ hips as she straddled him, reaching up to cup the sides of her face, holding her still while his mouth had its way with hers. Pulling back a little he softly bit her lip, drawing a groan from her mouth and he grinned, resting his forehead against hers.

“What the fuck was in that book you were reading?” he asked and Fliss laughed

“Rape, murder…” she pondered, before she grinned wickedly “A police man in a uniform with handcuffs…”

“So is it the Uniform or the handcuffs that have got you all worked up Pretty Girl?”

“Neither, it’s the dirty, boat Daddy that I’m currently straddling”

At that Frank tipped his head back in a loud laugh, his hands brushing Fliss’ hair back off her face. “I fahkin love you.” he chuckled, as she pressed her lips to his again.

“Good job.” She mumbled against his mouth “Seeing as you’re the father of my kids…and you’re marrying me.” She added as somewhat of an afterthought.

Kids. Plural.

Frank glanced at her, her eyes shining against the lights of the garage and he smiled softly, his chest tightening a little with emotion. Mary’s adoption had only been finalised a few weeks prior, the ink probably still wet on all the documents but in their mind it had been a done deal months ago, from the moment they’d made the decision. Still, it stirred all kinds of warm feelings in his chest when he heard her say it. She smiled, reaching up to brush her hands through the longer strands of hair on his head before her fingers delicately danced down over his shoulders, his strong arms before she gripped at the hem of his T-shirt. He raised his arms allowing her to pull it off, before she dropped her head and chained open mouthed, warm kisses across his collar bone.

Happy to let her take charge for a moment, Frank tipped his head back sighing as she nipped up his neck to his jaw, her mouth skating over the stubble of his beard before she met his mouth again and this time the kiss was fierce. In a flash, Frank fisted his hand in the loose t-shirt she was wearing, yanking it over her head, giving a soft groan as he realised she was wearing no bra. His large hands spread over her back, pulling her snug against his chest, his fingers sliding up and down her spine causing her to shiver a little, letting out a soft moan that morphed into that oh so familiar whimper he knew and loved.

“I could listen to you make that sound for days,” he muttered and Fliss smiled against his mouth, kissing him again. A few seconds later, deciding to push things a little as Fliss seemed to be in a demanding mood, Frank pulled back, his bright blue eyes almost icy with intensity and issued a single word instruction. “Strip” Fliss felt her stomach bottom out with excitement when his demand registered. She swallowed and stood between his legs, slipping down the shorts she was wearing, Frank’s eyes watching her as she then slid down her panties, her gaze never once leaving his face. When he finished looking her up and down as she stood naked in front of him, his eyes met hers a look of pure, unadulterated wonderment and appreciation on his face.

And it was all for her.

“Like what you see sailor?” she bit her lip, her skin tingling with excitement as Frank arched an eyebrow.

“Like you wouldn’t believe…” his hands reached out and grabbed her hips as he stood up, pivoting them so that the back of Fliss’ legs pressed against the bench he had been sat on. His hands slid up, thumbs brushing the underneath of her breasts as he kissed her once more, softly, before he pulled back, his lips gently sucking at that spot on her delicate neck, his teeth nipping at her skin.

“Wanna turn around and get on your knees for me baby girl?” he whispered his question. Fliss looked at him, wide eyed, and he noted that where there had at one time been a slight apprehension in those deep browns at being put in such a position, now there was nothing but excitement, and he wasn’t quite sure when that had changed. But it had, and he loved it. He loved the fact she trusted him, that she was happy to simply be pliant in his hands.  She nodded and turned, kneeling on the bench in front of him, bending over, gripping the back with her hands. Frank reached out, gently manoeuvring so she was positioned where he wanted her to be and then stepped back, biting back the groan that bubbled in his throat at the site of her there, ready and waiting.

Fliss’ head was spinning. She couldn’t see him, but could feel him behind her. He wasn’t touching her yet, but he didn’t have to. Just the fact she could feel the heat of his gaze and his presence was enough to send her into a freefall. Every inch of her skin felt like it was on fire, the ache between her legs intensifying with each passing second. Then she heard a soft thud—Frank dropping to his knees, she assumed, but the gentle press of his mouth to the inside of her left thigh was still a shock, even though she knew it was coming. She inhaled sharply and Frank paused, his hands sliding up the outside of her thighs.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice low with desire. “Yeah.” Fliss’ breath was equally loaded and she let out a sigh as his mouth traced a line of kisses up her thigh, then he moved to do the same to the inside of her right. Her eyes closed, Fliss breathed in slowly in an attempt to steady herself, to stay calm and collected. She was ridiculously close already and his mouth hadn’t even touched that part of her body yet. When his tongue finally made contact, she lost all semblance of cool. Her eyes flew open and she let out a loud cry as the tip of his tongue swirled against her made. It was mere seconds but she was already panting, her hands curling around the back of the bench, the feel of his beard scratching against her was almost too much. Frank fucking her with his mouth, from behind, on the deck of the boat, in their garage was the single hottest thing she had ever experienced, and she wanted it to last as long as possible. Frank however, seemed to have other ideas. Whilst he kept the slow, steady rhythm with ease, he let out a low hum, something he knew would send her wild.

“Fuck,” she whined. “Frank, I…” His tongue swirled faster, his hands gripping the outside of her thighs tightly as she felt the pressure inside her turn white hot. When he slipped his finger inside her she gasped, his mouth matching every gentle but firm thrust his hand made.  It all resulted in a sensation so heavenly, it was agonizing and it spread from between her legs to the farthest reaches of her body, until she could take it no more. With a loud cry she came, hard, pushing back onto his face and her knees buckled slightly, her hand slipping on the wooden rail of the bench, her body and mind completely gone. Frank stood up, giving her a moment as he quickly shed his jeans and boxers before his hands gripped her hips and he bent over to kiss her neck. “You good?” he asked and she gave a hum of satisfaction as she turned her head to look at him, her brown eyes meeting his as she nodded. “Jesus Frank…” she stuttered and he smirked, his grin slipping slightly as she reached back and gripped him in her hand, a choked little grunt escaping his own mouth as her palm tightened around his now throbbing cock. His hands dropped to her hips and he pulled her backwards and up slightly, manoeuvring her so she was exactly where he needed and with smooth, fluid thrust forward he slid slowly into her, the deliberate languid pace allowing her to feel every glorious inch of him. “Lissy,” he growled, and that was the last word he uttered as he thrust into her over, and over, screams and cries and grunts filling the air in the large garage, echoing slightly off the walls. As his hands tightened on her hips, Fliss knew he was close and so was she. He let go with his right hand, dropping it round between her legs to palm her clit and the warm press of his hand combined with the steady rhythm of his thrusts sent Fliss over the edge again and just as a low growl ripped from Frank’s throat, orgasm number two spiked through her. Only this time when she lost it, she was a complete mess.  Every single muscle in her body cramped and quivered as she tensed in front of Frank, bucking violently until she sagged forward, her sailor’s arms wrapping around her as he gave a few more deep thrusts before he shuddered, his arms tightening their hold and he groaned loudly, his hips faltering as he came with a surge that brewed right from his feet. They both remained still for a second until Frank slowly and gently pulled away. He pressed his lips to Fliss’ lower back, showering her in gentle kisses, as he made his way up her spine before he reached the crook of her shoulder. Fliss’s eyes were still closed but her face sported a sated smile as she let out a hum of satisfaction.  Picking her up, Frank sat down on the bench so she was cradled in his lap, reaching for the tartan blanket that was draped over the seat a few down and he wrapped it around them both, kissing her hair line.

“Suppose that’s one way to christen the boat.” She eventually spoke and Frank chuckled.

"God bless the good lady Felicity...and all who sail in her." He retorted, giving a little salute. Fliss snorted and slapped his arm.

“You’re such a wanker.” She shook her head and Frank laughed, kissing her gently”

“You love it, honey.” “No, I love you. Which means I put up with all your wanker-ish traits because I have no choice.”

*******

Once Frank had showered he made his way downstairs dressed comfortably in a pair of sweats and t-shirt. Fliss had already laid the take-out boxes on the counter so he parked himself down on one of the stools as Fliss handed him a beer, taking a glass of wine for herself. They talked as they ate, Fliss teasing Frank about getting him a display cabinet for his baseball trophy to which he snorted and told her he wasn't intending on making it a habit. Once they'd finished their food, they cleared the dishes and Frank made his way to the sofa whilst Fliss let Thor out into the yard as he was pawing at the door. 

Frank absentmindedly flicked through the news channels, pausing at a report on Trump's latest activity and the reaction to a stupid tweet he had made regarding guns and he shook his head, scoffing in disgust.

"I dont know why you watch anything about him." Fliss called as she shut the door "it just winds you up."

"His brain is a fucking scribble" Frank retorted, "I mean...just look at him Fliss!"

"I'd rather not!" She called back, shooing Fred down from where he had hopped up onto the kitchen counter. 

"President of the free world and he's an absolute tool." Frank continued his chunnering as he stretched out, his legs on the coffee table and his arms extending quite forcefully behind his head as he yawned. Unfortunately, Fliss had chosen that exact moment to cross the room ready to wrap her arms around him from behind and as she bent to do so the back of Frank's closed left fist connected with the top of her left cheekbone, just in the outside corner of her eye, and she gave a yelp of surprise. As soon as it happened Frank jerked his head round and as he saw Fliss recoiling from the accidental blow his blood ran cold.

"Shit..." he sprang over the back of the couch, ignoring Thor who was now growling furiously at him. "Oh my god, Lissy, I'm so fahkin' sorry..." 

She straightened up blinking, her hands falling to his biceps as he gently cradled her face. "Frank its fine, you just caught my eye a little that’s all, it won't even bruise."

"Well, maybe not but..."

"Did you-Thor!" Fliss yelled at the dog, turning to look at him "Stop!" The German shepherd fell silent and flopped his butt down on the floor, his dark amber eyes still fixed on Frank, as Fliss turned back to him. "Did you mean to do it?"

"No, of course not..."

"Then there you go. It was an accident." She smiled, "it wasn't even hard enough to bruise, trust me, I know."

"That's not funny." Frank said quietly and Fliss sighed.

"It wasn't meant to be." She shook her head as Frank's eyes roved her face, utter dismay across every inch of his own. "Frankie..."

"Baby, I'm so..."

"Stop apologising." She said softly "it was an accident. Nothing more." Frank looked at her again before she stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. "Please don't."

"Don't what?" He asked

"Worry that you've hurt me, or scared me. Because you haven't." She shook her head "would you be this bothered if I didn't have the history I did?"

Frank hesitated. Of course he'd be bothered about hitting his girl, regardless of it being accidentally, but she was right. He wouldn't feel the concern he did has she not been subjected to the abuse she had suffered previously. He gave a little sheepish shrug and Fliss shook her head again, smiling.

"I'm not made of glass Sailor, I'm not gonna shatter over something like this. Not anymore." She took his hand in hers, pressed a kiss to his knuckles and then let go. Frank dropped it to his side, curling both hands on her hips as her arms slid up round his neck. "Can we forget this now and snuggle up with a movie?"

Frank nodded "ok, sounds good..."

After a little deliberation and poking around the channels Fliss’ eyes lit up when she realised that one of the channels was now dedicated to James Bond, the next movie showing being Skyfall, one of her favourites. However, fifteen minutes in Frank felt her head growing heavy against his chest as they lay sprawled on the sofa. He glanced down to see her eyes closed, her lids fluttering slightly, lashes laying against her cheeks as she slept. With a smile he pressed a kiss to her head, his hand gently resting around her back as she lay snuggled into him. It can’t have been much more than twenty minutes later when he too felt his eyes growing heavy, the exertion of the day finally getting to much for him and he nodded off, both of them waking with a jolt when the music for the end credits kicked in and Fred hopped up onto the back of the sofa before landing on Frank’s chest by Fliss’ head with a loud purr.

“Jesus Fred…” Frank grumbled, pushing him off as Fliss sat up, blinking. “Fucking one eyed bastard.”

Fred glared at him and slunk off, jumping up onto the armchair where he curled up, his tail flicking.

“What a rock and roll lifestyle we lead.” Fliss stretched slightly as she yawned and Frank shrugged.

“Well we had a busy day.” “Even busier evening.” She quipped and Frank chuckled, his hand rubbing at her back before she stood up, her hands rubbing at her eyes. With a heave Frank swung his legs off the couch and he too stood, pulling his girl into a hug.

“You go up, I’ll sort Thor check the doors.”

She gave him a quick peck and then left him to it, padding tiredly up the stairs. She headed into the bathroom to clean her teeth and was just climbing in between the soft sheets when Frank walked into the room, Thor behind him, the dog flopping down with a sigh into his basket. Fliss’ eyes fell to the empty bassinet and she suddenly felt a little pang for her missing baby, but she knew from the various texts and the conversation she’d had with her parents earlier that he was perfectly fine so she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

It wasn’t long before Frank joined her in bed and she shuffled over to him, tossing her leg over his as he kissed her forehead, his hand sliding up the back of her sleep cami, palm warm against her skin.

“Night honey, love you.” He yawned and she smiled.

“Love you too.” She sighed contentedly, her eyes closing as they both drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

*****

Frank woke the next morning to an empty bed. With a stretch he rubbed his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. Of course it would be too much to hope Fliss would be able to lay in. And then he turned over to check the time and did a double take. It was almost 10 am.

“Fuck!” he gave a little chuckle. Guess he’d been a lot more tired than he thought. Swinging his legs out of bed he padded into the bathroom, sorted his bladder out and went about the rest of his normal morning routine before he grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of sweats and headed downstairs. He paused in the doorway to the large family area, watching as she was stood at the stove, dressed in one of his button downs. It skimmed the curve of her ass, ending in the middle of her thighs and he smiled as he watched her move. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he saw her like this in the kitchen, it was certainly before Alex was born, most likely on one of their kid free Friday nights that had abruptly halted when he’d arrived, not that Frank would change a thing about it mind, but it was still nice to have it back, even it if was just for one morning.

He thought back to the first time he saw her dressed in one of his shirts. It was a Saturday in his old apartment, not long after they'd started dating. He found her in the kitchen much like she was now, making a coffee having woken early and not wanted to disturb him. He remembered thinking it was the first time a woman had ever done that, made herself at home, because in fairness she was the only woman that had lasted longer than a night in 8 years. It had stirred something in him then, a feeling of contentment, much like the one he was feeling now. His life had changed dramatically since she’d walked into it approximately 2 and a half years or so. In some ways the time had flown by, in others it felt like a life time when he considered everything they’d been through, both of them so far from the people they had been, yet so similar too.

With a smile he stepped into the room and walked over to her, and the fact she didn’t jump when he wrapped his arms aroud her from behind told him she’d been well aware of his presence in the doorway for a while.

“I thought we were supposed to be having a lazy morning complete with lie in” Frank’s hand gently brushed Fliss’ wild locks off her neck before he pressed a kiss to her skin

“I did.” Fliss smiled “I didn’t wake up until 8:30. Normally your son has me up at 6.”

“Our son.”

“When he wakes me up at 6 am he’s your son.” She turned her head to glance at him. “Dad’s gonna collect Mary and drop them both off at half past midday ish.”

“Well then, you really could have stayed in bed.” He pouted and she chuckled.

“Once I’m awake I’m awake…” she shrugged “No point staying there.”

“You should’a woken me up, I could’a given you a good reason to stay put.” His lips pressed more kisses to her neck and Fliss laughed, swatting at his head playfully.

“I’ll burn breakfast.”

“So?”

“I’m hungry.”

“So am I.”

“I meant for food.” She turned in his arms and he shrugged playfully giving her a deep kiss.

“Morning honey.” He smiled against her lips and she let out a little chuckle.

“Morning hot shot.” She grinned, patting his chest “you wanna set the places and pour us a coffee each? This is nearly done.”

Doing as he was told, Frank stepped back, grabbing cutlery and placing it on the breakfast bar before he made them both a coffee and grabbed the orange juice and a couple of glasses. As he set it all down on the side, Fliss dropped two plates of pancakes, bacon and eggs on the place mats and Frank gave a little groan of delight.

“You didn’t have to do this.” He looked at her.

“It’s just breakfast” she shrugged “Plus, thought it would be nice, just the two of us. And I wanted to talk to you.”

“Sounds ominous.” He arched an eyebrow as she sat next to him.

“No, not really.” She shrugged “I was just thinking yesterday a little. I wanna go back to work Frank, like full time. I’m ready.”

“Okay.” He nodded, “That’s fine. Did you think I was gonna protest or something?”

“No, I just wanted to discuss it, remember, we said we would do that after last time?”

“Liss, this is different.” He said, shaking his head as he cut into a pancake. “He’s almost 6 months old now, we’ll be weaning him soon.” “Yeah, I was thinking I can start pushing up the hours and then when he’s fully converted onto solids, which by the way, I’m not looking forward to those nappy changes…” she wrinkled her nose and Frank laughed, popping a piece of his breakfast into his mouth “well, when all that’s done then I’m back to full time.”

“Like I said, if you’re ready then fine.” Frank looked at her, hi hand dropping to her knee. “Guess we should start looking for a childminder huh?”

“Mum said she’d help out but I don’t want her to have him all the time, she’s got her own life. But I was thinking she could maybe have him two days a week, as she’ll sulk if I don’t let her have him some time.” Fliss shrugged “The other days, I thought we could speak to the one that Bonnie’s sister uses. She’s not far from Mum and Dad.” “Yeah, ok. Get her number and we’ll go meet her.” Frank agreed, shovelling more of his breakfast into his mouth.

“I also wanna call the architect that Steeby knows” Fliss added, taking a bite of food “Start getting the plans drawn up for the expansion. I’d really like to have that completed by the wedding. We got nearly 7 months. I think it’s doable. The additional stables won’t take long, or the lunging pen and the paddock move. The big job is gonna be the extension to the office and tack room but…again, a couple of weeks and Dad reckons it’ll be done. He doesn’t think that it’ll be much over 12 weeks in total if we get the right guys on the job.” Frank nodded “Well, the land is already ours so, go for it.”

“Yeah?” Fliss smiled and Frank returned the gesture, squeezing her knee.

“Yeah, let’s do it. Get the designs drawn up and some quotes for the work.”

“I love you.” Fliss beamed, leaning over to kiss him softly and he smiled, his nose bumping hers slightly.

“That’s because I’m a very lovable guy” he grinned and Fliss snorted, pulling back.

“Suppose so.”

They ate their breakfast and once the dishes were over they both retired to the sofa, Frank flicking on the news channel, Fliss picking up her book again, Fred curling up behind her head on the sofa back, Thor jumping up beside her. Frank gave a grunt and a huff, pushing the dog’s huge paw off his thigh before he flopped down, head in his lap. It was lazy, comfortable and remained that way until at midday, Fliss headed upstairs to pull on something a little more substantial than Frank’s shirt, much to his chagrin. When she came down dressed in a pair of breaches and a polo shirt little over 20 minutes later he smiled at her.

“You got a class this afternoon?”

“Yeah I’m taking Mary’s one at 2.” She said. “But I need to ride Cap  beforehand and then Bronson needs working and Heidi could do with a walk round the trail too, her back leg keeps swelling up.” “Still bad?”

Fliss wrinkled her nose as she crossed to the fridge “Nothing unusual for her age, the vet said it’s a touch of arthritis which is why I don’t school her any more. It tends to go down when she’s done a bit of walking. If I take her for half an hour hack round she’ll be fine. It’s when it stops going down that I’ve got a problem, but I don’t even want to think about that.” She shook her head, pulling the water out of the fridge. “I can’t imagine my life without her.”

“She’s certainly been with you a long time.” Frank looked at her and Fliss nodded

“20 years this year.” She sighed “Hard to believe really. She was the first horse I ever owned, best one I could have hoped for.”

“How long do you think Mary has with Monty?” Frank asked, declining Fliss’ offer of a glass of water. “I mean till she outgrows him.” “She won’t” Fliss shook her head “I can still ride Monty, he’s a welsh cob. Chunky, she’ll be good with him until he drops. But I do think she’ll be looking for something a little more advanced as well in a couple of years, when Monty needs to slow down again, but we can cross that bridge when we get there.”

“Oh, great.” Frank rolled his eyes and Fliss laughed as she sat next to him.

“Behave, it’s not like it costs anything to keep another.” “I’m referring to the advanced bit.” Frank looked at her “Still scares the crap out of me when she sails over those damned fences.”

“She’s good at it.” Fliss shrugged “If she gets placed in the final competition next month she’s got third place over all. She wins it, then she’s gonna take second. Not to mention the fact that she’s basically already won the Junior Rider class. Not bad for a first season.”

Frank smiled proudly, but before he could say anything else the back door opened and Mary skipped inside, her voice carrying over the room.

“That’s just not true Poppa B and you know it!” She sing songed and Bill rolled his eyes as he carried Alex’s car chair inside.

“Is so.” He nodded “I know someone it happened to.”

“Nah ah!” she shook her head “When you swallow gum it can’t physically wrap around your ribs as when you eat it goes down to your stomach. It’s impossible.”

“Smart ass.” Bill chuckled as Fliss stood up, crossing the room.

“Hi!” she smiled, before she beamed down at Alex who grinned and started to thrash his legs and arms about at the sight of his momma, screeching. “Hi baby, I missed you!”

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Mary looked at Fliss who laughed, and pulled her into a hug.

“And you, dur!”

“You have a good time?” Frank asked as Mary flopped next to him.

“Yeah, we had fish tacos.” Mary smiled “They were well nice.” “Fish tacos.” Frank made an approving noise in his throat.

“Yeah and then we watched some more of The Mandalorian. And I had hot chocolate and went to bed.” Fliss, who now had Alex cradled in her arms, turned to face them both. “Sounds better than my night.” She quipped giving Frank a wink as he raised an eyebrow.

“Oh does it?”

“Why does something tell me I don’t wanna know?” Bill asked and Fliss turned to look at her dad, an innocent look on her face.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She chuckled “I just helped Frank with some stuff on the boat.”

“Sure you did.” Bill rolled his eyes before his eyes twinkled cheekily “Hope you scrubbed the deck afterwards.”

[oneoftheextras]

Colour Changer | two

masterlist | tip jar

warnings: +18, jealousy, verbal fighting, alcohol, angst & bit o’ drama (also endeavour if that needs to be put as a warning)

word count: 4.4k

part 1 | part 2 |

Things were good with Keigo for a while, when you both had a day off of work you would spend hours watching movies and doing all the couplely things that you would roll your eyes to.

That was before he stopped turning up to your dates, before he stopped sitting at the bar during your shifts to help them go by quicker, and before he no longer replied to your texts.

It had been 3 weeks since you heard from him, his last response to you was “Yeah” and nothing else. You had called and text him multiple times since, but he stopped reading them in the first week.

It was exactly 3 days ago when you sent him one last text asking if you were over and he hadn’t responded - you could only take that as a ‘yes’. 

The thought of something happening to him during a patrol crossed your mind, but you’d seen through social media and the news that he’d been going out to parties and had been seen recently. There was no excuse you could have given him, he was ignoring you.

Trying to savour the last of your pride, you blocked his number. You weren’t interested in anything he had to say.

At least you still had your job. You’d actually picked up more shifts at the bar since your ‘break up’ to try and keep yourself busy, there was something about spending time alone in your apartment that reminded you of him.

It hurt, you weren’t going to lie to yourself, it probably hurt more than it should have done. But this was the first time you had let down your guard for someone, and this was how they treated you.

You tried not to think about it.

It was your 9th consecutive shift at the bar and some of your regulars had started to notice that you were working more than normal, as well as your boss.

“You working more shift’s has actually improved our business, a lot of the customers are showing up more just because you’re here more often” they had said before the start of your shift, then they proceeded to slide your pay check across the table to you.

When you opened it up and saw that your pay rate had increased, you opened your mouth to ask if there was a mistake, you didn’t want them on your ass about it later down the line.

“You earned it” they said, giving you a pat on the back as they left the bar in your hands. It was a Thursday night, so you were in charge of a small team, mainly first year college kids trying to pay rent.

This shift was going on as normally as any other, when 10pm struck the normal crew of Heroes strolled in, probably wanting to relax from their hard day of patrols and fighting.

“Endeavour, you’re looking as happy as ever” you joked with the man sitting at the bar, he grumbled slightly as you instinctively started making his usual. “What’s got you looking extra gloomy today?” you asked him, just wanting some conversation out of someone over the age of 18.

“Paperwork” he mumbled before taking the freshly made drink from your hands and knocking it back, apparently it had really been a bad day. “Oh, ew” you tried to sympathise with him, “We’ve got this whole charity Gala coming up soon and for some reason it’s fallen on me to organise it” by the time he had finished explaining he had finished his drink.

Almost like a conveyer belt, as soon as the glass touched the counter, you had already scooped it up and started giving him a refill. “Actually that reminds me-” he said, wiping away the residue of alcohol that had fallen onto his beard “-are you free this Saturday?” he made eye contact with you, something Endeavour rarely did. You felt a chill go down your spine.

Mentally going through your calendar, you remembered your boss forcing you to take the weekend off, something about labour law and you not being legally allowed to work that many days.

“I might be” you side eyed him as you put his second drink down, “Why? Are you trying to get me alone?” you casually raised an eyebrow at him, it had been so long since you had flirt with anyone, the feeling was strange but not so completely alien to you.

To your surprise, a deep chuckle and a slight smile came out of him, “Someone else has organised the catering and they’re insisting they bring their own bartender”, as soon as he said the last word you knew where this was going, “I don’t trust them, I’d rather have someone I know is capable” he never broke eye contact with you.

Immediately you were trying to think of an excuse to say no, you wished you had said you were working “I-” you started but was interrupted “Hawks will be there-” now it was your turn to interrupt him by groaning “Please don’t talk to me about him” you rolled your eyes.

Honestly, it was the first time you had heard his name since everything, “I thought you guys had a thing going on?” Endeavour asked, yet again, finishing his drink - you had no idea where he put all that alcohol. “Yeah, well, so did I. Until he ghosted me” you weren’t exactly sure why you were being so open with the number one Hero, but here you were.

“I’m sorry” he sounded as though he actually meant it, if you weren’t already looking at him, you would have doubted it left his mouth. “I still need someone, and with you I’d know the event was going to be a success, I’ll pay you more than you get here” his tone was still soft, as though he was walking on glass, but he knew what he wanted.

Poking your tongue out between your lips to wet them before you spoke, you feigned cockiness “Actually, I just got a raise, apparently people come here to see me”, before you had even finished your sentence, he had raised an eyebrow as though you were insulting him.

“Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it” straightened his back as though now that he was talking business the niceties were gone. “Double a shift’s wage? That’s not worth-“ he cut you off, “Double your yearly, for one night” he folded his arms.

If you had been drinking something, you’d have spat it out, but instead your eyes flickered in disbelief and your mouth parted slightly.

Smirking, knowing he’d basically won you over already, he wrote down the details on a napkin and handed it to you along with 50 thousand Yen - before you could question it, he spoke up “It’s a black suit event so get something nice for yourself”.

He didn’t wait for confirmation before changing the subject, at least he kept you company for the rest of the night.

You’d taken Endeavour’s advice and went shopping for a new black dress for the Gala, you had to at least look the part even if you didn’t want to be there. The dress you decided on was tight and hugged you in all the right places, it was very flattering, you had debated on whether or not to go for a nice dress, but you didn’t want to waste the money he’d given you.

Before you could really prepare yourself, you were setting up your space in the huge Gala hall. You’d turned up early so you could add some finishing touches to your bar before all the Heroes started turning up, you’d be more efficient if you knew where every type of alcohol was.

You’d taken the liberty of bringing some of the cocktail shakers from your work so you were familiar with the tools, but they had already supplied you with enough for a small team. Although, when the clock rolled around to 10 minutes before the Heroes were supposed to turn up, there was no sign of any other bartenders.

If Endeavour had hired you and only you, he was going to get an earful, Number One Hero or not.

That was exactly what he had done.

At first you slightly panicked, wondering how the hell you were going to manage so many orders all at once, but there were about 30 Champagne Waitresses making their rounds on the floor that kept everyone away from you.

Not to say that you weren’t extremely busy, but you were able to serve the Heroes fast enough that you were able to put on a bit of a performance, doing your normal tricks of tapping the cocktail shaker and changing the liquid contents as it was being poured into people’s glasses.

Like normal, the onlookers were amazed.

It still befuddled you that in a world of crime-fighting Heroes, someone who could change colours was something to gape at. Your quirk was more for show than practicality really.

When the majority had some type of alcoholic drink in their hand, the speeches started, everyone had stopped what they were doing to listen to the grey haired man talk about the charity that this whole thing was for and give a list of thank you’s that seemed to go on forever. 

Meanwhile, you decided to utilise this time to clean down your bar and restock some of the empty bottles, you weren’t quite sure what was going on with Gang Orca but he’d nearly finished a whole bottle of vodka by himself so you were keeping an eye on him. He seemed completely fine with no sign of intoxication, maybe his huge form was absorbing the alcohol.

You were sure as soon as this presentation had finished you were going to be swamped, even you were feeling the need for a drink, and oh boy were you right.

The moment the dim lights were brought back up and the music was turned back on there wasn’t a single space by the bar that wasn’t full. You expected people to start getting impatient because they were having to wait for their drinks, but strangely they were more than happy to wait and chat to you and each other, the amount of tips you were getting tonight would be enough to pay your rent for 2 months.

After the swarm of people were served and you had a second to breathe, you froze, golden eyes staring awkwardly at you “Shot of tequila” he bluntly said, he didn’t even have the manners to ask like everyone else was. You gave him a similarly cold response by just nodding and putting the shot glass on the metal surface with a little bit too much force and pouring the golden liquid into it, you also gave him a wedge of lime and gave him the salt shaker.

Without saying anything, he handed you the money and took his shot. You both seemed to breathe a breath of relief when the Number One Hero parted the line of people and approached the bar, you smiled maybe too much upon seeing him.

“Endeavour!” Hawks exclaimed when he saw his partner, “Have a shot with me!” he continued and you instinctively started preparing his normal tumbler of whiskey. Enji grumbled at the young heroes request, you would have died on the spot if you saw Endeavour do a shot.

After placing the his empty glass on the wood in front of him, you quickly washed your hands in the miniature sink the event space had provided you, dried them on your small towel, and scooped up three cubes of ice.

Both men looked at you with intent, you had served them enough for them to know this wasn’t your normal routine.

You allowed one cold cube to run down your palm and to the tip of your fingers, the second before it left your touch, you turned the white object into a gorgeous red. Uncurling your pinkie and ring-finger, you let the other two pieces do the same thing - changing the second one to orange and then the last one to yellow.

A small crowd of a few customers were ogling at what you were doing as though they had never seen it before, or it may have been because someone was paying attention to the Number One Hero despite everyone’s fear of him.

It was nice to see him smiling, but it was even better to see the faint grimace on Keigo’s face. Good, you thought. After the way he treated you, you wanted him to know what he was missing.

Endeavour reached out for the glass but before he could grab hold of it you slapped his hand playfully, you heard a few faint gasps in the miniature crowd that had formed, and a couple of terrified glances towards the Pro Hero on your behalf.

“Be patient” you smirked at him, you had to admit it to yourself, you were being very brave. You barely knew this man apart from his drink order, being so informal with him was a huge risk as you didn’t know how he would react.

He chuckled at your coyness, and your heart relaxed.

Cupping your hand in front of his face, you poured his favourite whiskey into your hand and let it run through your fingers, you held the bottle high enough so people could see the dark brown liquid flowing out of the nozzle and then quickly drizzle out between your fingers as a golden-yellow with bright red swirls. 

Once you had poured the right amount into the glass, you pushed the tumbler towards him and washed the remaining alcohol off your hand before it became sticky.

“I’m surprised he let her do that” someone mumbled a little bit too loudly, then another voice piped up “It’s not very hygienic”. Endeavour was happily sipping at his drink while Keigo was doing his best not to make eye contact with you still, this was too good of an opportunity to give up, so you mustered up all your courage and said in the most confident tone you could “It’s okay, he knows where my hands have been”.

If you weren’t mistaken, everyone inhaled sharply at the exact same time, all but Enji who side-eyed Keigo and then put his eyes back on you with a knowing glint - something told you that he knew what you were trying to do and understood his role. Maybe your hands would stop shaking sometime soon now that you knew he was going along with it.

“Thank you for the dress by the way” you added, gently placing your hand on his arm for a second before going back to serving the line of customers you had, you felt as though there was enough of an audience to make your point, “It fits you nicely” was all he added, it was more of a response than you were expecting. 

Deciding it was probably best to not push your luck too much with the flame hero, you turned your attention to the multiple pairs of eyes looking at you “What do you guys think?” doing a little twirl with what little space you had, of course the chorus of men erupted into whoops and cheers- you think you even heard Present Mic yelling “Hot” from one of the other stands.

Satisfied with the scene you had caused, you went back to pouring drinks, using all sorts of tricks you’d never been able to do before. You changed the whole bar to whatever colour the current customer wanted, even going as far as to change your own hair colour to gain praise from them. 

Honestly, you were starting to feel like your old self again, that was until you saw something small and red weave it’s way through the different pumps and towards you.

Slamming your hand down on the bar and hard as you could, you crushed the delicate feather under your force, “If I see another feather come across this line-“ you drew and invisible line across the wood with your finger “-I’ll cut you off” you said bluntly, throwing the feather back towards it’s owner. 

He opened his mouth to say something but you interrupted him, “Do you want to get thrown out?”, he chuckled to himself slightly and shook his head “Like you could” his tone was playful yet arrogant, “I don’t have to” you put the emphasis on ‘I’ and shifted your gaze toward Enji who had coincidentally caught your eye, he very lightly smiled at you and gave a small gesture that you assumed was a wave.

That was the last straw, Keigo’s tone shifted and he stormed away from the bar, the entire night passed and you didn’t see him again. A part of you was glad, you didn’t have to keep looking over your shoulder, but that pit in your stomach was back, and just as you had started to feel better.

On the plus side, you didn’t have to clean and close the bar, the venue had hired some cleaners to take care of all the mess after everyone was done. Thank God.

The walk home was quiet and lonely, it was about 3am and most people had gone to sleep hours ago, so the ominous hum of streetlights really put you on edge- that, and that nervous feeling of being watched.

You tried to hurry along the uneven ground as quickly as you could, not wanting to tempt fate too much; how ironic would it have been? To be attacked by a Villain after spending an evening with Heroes.

A gust of wind blew your hair into your face and blocked your vision entirely for a few seconds, it was quickly followed by a force connecting with your back and then wrapping around your front.

You felt your feet leave the ground and the harsh whistle of wind rushing past your ears deafened you - your senses were blocked off. The wind was too loud to hear, and your hair acted like a self-inflicted blindfold, you were so disorientated that you thought you were going to be sick.

When your feet finally touched solid ground and the force holding you ease up, you stumbled forwards and fell to your knees, hands spread out in front of you. “What’s going on with you and Endeavour?” you heard a familiar voice say from behind you, you could not believe this.

“What?!” you exclaimed, aggressively turning yourself so you were now half laid down on the floor, you saw Hawk’s standing in front of his open window with the moonlight shining behind him casting a silhouette. “You kidnapped me to ask me about Endeavour?” you vocalised how ridiculous the situation was.

Hawk’s folded his arms in frustration, “You seemed pretty cosy with him earlier” he said bluntly, “So what if I was?” you bit back, your emotions were high and you didn’t know which voice to listen to - you were pissed off beyond your control, hurt and mildly frightened.

You knew Hawk’s wouldn’t hurt you, but the amount of hate in his eyes made you question him for a moment.

“Is that how it is? You moved on from to my partner?” he sounded disgusted with you and to be completely honest you were glad, he had hurt you so much in such a short amount of time it felt as though he was getting what he deserved.

“What do you care?” you snarled at him and turned your head away, not wanting to look at him. “What do I-?” he started but interrupted himself by rubbing his hand down his face. “Of course I care!” he extended his arms towards you as you dragged yourself up off the floor and brushed the flakes of dust and dirt off your new dress.

“If you cared about me you wouldn’t have left” you mumbled to yourself, not intending for him to hear but it seems regardless of whether or not he heard, he wanted you to say it again “What did you say?!” he raised his voice, to match his aggression you raised your voice louder “If you cared about me you wouldn’t have left!”.

There was silence for a moment, no words, just the sound of heavy breathing as you both decided whether or not it was worth carrying on this subject.

“Take me home” you gave up, exasperated at the situation. All you had wanted for the last couple of weeks was to hear from Keigo, and for him to tell you that you were still together, but now that you were actually in front of him, you wanted nothing more than to disappear.

He took a few steps towards you, “No-” he forced the air out of his throat like a bullet coming out of a gun, “-Not until you admit it” he continued, his hostile tone never wavering. “Admit what?” you laughed dryly, “Are you fucking Endeavour?” he asked bluntly and your jaw almost hit the floor.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no I’m not” you answered him honestly, folding your own arms and glancing around towards the front door, if he wouldn’t take you home you would have to take yourself.

“How is it none of my business?” he snapped at you, “Because you left me!” you shouted over the top of him before he managed to finish his sentence, “I gave you every part of me and you couldn’t even be bothered to send a goodbye text” you finally let out what you felt like you had been holding onto for your whole life.

Taking a deep breath in and then with a sharp exhale you said, in a calmer tone “I’m leaving”, without giving him the option to respond you marched your way towards the apartment door.

Before you could take hold of the handle you felt your shoulder being pulled around and your body being pushed against the door, the next thing you saw were two golden eyes staring back at you .

“Let me go” you said through gritted teeth, “Not until you’ve listened to me” he was talking in a hushed voice as though all the anger and upset had left him in that instant, “I don’t want to-” you started but it was his turn to interrupt you, “You have no idea how dangerous my job is, the type of people I’m working with-” he stopped mid-sentence to glance around the room as though he was being watched.

“I was there every night, I watched you walk home from work to make sure you were okay” his voice was starting to crack and you could see water starting to well up in his bottom eye lid, “I missed you so much, but I had to keep you safe”.

Watching him come undone in front of you, you felt a pit fall in your stomach as extreme guilt flushed over you.

Your body moved without you asking it to and before you knew it your hands were wrapped in his hair and your lips were against his.

The kiss started as soft and gentle, but as soon as the shock had left his system he cupped your face in his hand and started kissing you as though it was the last time. 

Things got heated very quickly, Keigo pushed the hem of your dress up until it was bunched up at your waist and wasted no time shuffling your underwear down for you to step out of.

Unbuckling his belt like he wouldn’t live to see tomorrow, he let his jeans fall to the floor as he picked you up by your thighs and pushed you further into the door. His kisses became more erratic as he lowered you onto his cock.

The euphoria you both felt as the familiar sensation of him filling you again flooded to your brain, you gripped his shoulders tighter to try and stay stable. Instantly he started moving his hips, dragging himself in and out of you at a rapid pace.

The apartment was filled with a mixture of Keigo’s grunts, your moans and the door sounding as though it was on the brink of death. “I missed you so much” he mumbled against your neck as he dug his fingers into your bare thighs, his thrusts were ruthless and you could feel that you were getting close to your orgasm.

“I missed you too” you managed to breath out in between moans. You could feel the friction of your back rubbing against his door and you knew you would be waking up with a bruise. But you didn’t care.

Before either of you could say anything else you felt your walls clench down around him, emphasising every muscle and vein in his member, Ah, fuck” he growled, pushing himself even further into you as you let him pound you through your orgasm.

He grunted a couple of times and his mouth hung open, he moved one of his hands to hold your shoulder down as the pressure of his chest against yours held you in place. “I love you” he confessed, locking eyes with you, you were still panting from your own high so you weren’t able to respond, “I lo-” he started to say before he snapped his hips against yours and you felt him cum inside of you.

Flopping his head forward so your foreheads were touching, neither of you moved to allow the moment to last as long as it could- neither of you wanting your bubble of bliss to be popped.

“I mean it” he barely even whispered as he pulled his head away so he could look you in the eye, “I do love you” he repeated himself. Your heart leapt, your relationship hadn’t gone on long enough for either of you to have said the ‘L’ word yet.

But being away from him these last couple of weeks solidified how you truly felt, “I love you too” you smiled at him as he kissed your forehead.

Taglist:

@mylife-demonstrates-murphys-law @hereticpriest @enagmaticether @anxiousgoddest @kodzu-ken @moonnei @diesinspanishbcimhispanic

[dwellordream]

“This brings us to the most fundamental fact of rural life in the pre-modern world: the grain is harvested once a year, but the family eats every day. Of course that means the grain must be stored and only slowly consumed over the entire year (with some left over to be used as seed-grain in the following planting). That creates the first cycle in agricultural life: after the harvest, food is generally plentiful and prices for it are low (we’ll deal with the impact this has on trade and markets a little later). As the year goes on, food becomes scarcer and the prices for it rise as each family ‘eats down’ their stockpile.

That has more than just economic impacts because the family unit becomes more vulnerable as that food stockpile dwindles. Malnutrition brings on a host of other threats: elevated risk of death from injury or disease most notably. Repeated malnutrition also has devastating long-term effects on young children (a point we’ll come back to). Consequently, we see seasonal mortality patterns in agricultural communities which tend to follow harvest cycles; when the harvest is poor, the family starts to run low on food before the next harvest, which leads to rationing the remaining food, which leads to malnutrition. That malnutrition is not evenly distributed though: the working age adults need to be strong enough to bring in the next harvest when it comes (or to be doing additional non-farming labor to supplement the family), so the short rations are going to go to the children and the elderly.

Which in turn means that ‘lean’ years are marked by increased mortality especially among the children and the elderly, the former of which is how the rural population ‘regulates’ to its food production in the absence of modern birth control (but, as an aside: this doesn’t lead to pure Malthusian dynamics – a lot more influences the food production ceiling than just available land. You can have low-equilibrium or high-equilibrium systems, especially when looking at the availability of certain sorts of farming capital or access to trade at distance. I cannot stress this enough: Malthus was wrong; yes, interestingly, usefully wrong – but still wrong. The big plagues sometimes pointed to as evidence of Malthusian crises have as much if not more to do with rising trade interconnectedness than declining nutritional standards). This creates yearly cycles of plenty and vulnerability; we’ll talk about the strategies these fellows employ to avoid that problem in just a moment.

Next to that little cycle, we also have a ‘big’ cycle of generations. The ratio of labor-to-food-requirements varies as generations are born, age and die; it isn’t constant. The family is at its peak labor effectiveness at the point when the youngest generation is physically mature but hasn’t yet begun having children (the exact age-range there is going to vary by nuptial patterns, see below) and at its most vulnerable when the youngest generation is immature. By way of example, let’s imagine a family (I’m going to use Roman names because they make gender very clear, but this is a completely made-up family): we have Gaius (M, 45), his wife, Cornelia (39, F), his mother Tullia (64, F) and their children Gaius (21, M), Secundus (19, M), Julia1 (16, F) and Julia2 (14, F). That family has three male laborers, three female laborers (Tullia being in her twilight years, we don’t count), all effectively adults in that sense, against 7 mouths to feed.

But let’s fast-forward fifteen years. Gaius is now 60 and slowing down, Cornelia is 54; Tullia, we may assume has passed. But Gaius now 36 is married to Clodia (20, F; welcome to Roman marriage patterns), with two children Gaius (3, M) and Julia3 (1, F); Julia1 and Julia2 are married and now in different households and Secundus, recognizing that the family’s financial situation is never going to allow him to marry and set up a household has left for the Big City. So we now have the labor of two women and a man-and-a-half (since Gaius the Elder is quite old) against six mouths and the situation is likely to get worse in the following years as Gaius-the-Younger and Clodia have more children and Gaius-the-Elder gets older. The point of all of this is to note that just as risk and vulnerability peak and subside on a yearly basis in cycles, they also do this on a generational basis in cycles.

...Most modern folks think in terms of profit maximization; we take for granted that we will still be alive tomorrow and instead ask how we can maximize how much money we have then (this is, admittedly, a lot less true for the least fortunate among us). We thus tend to favor efficient systems, even if they are vulnerable. From this perspective, ancient farmers – as we’ll see – look very silly, but this is a trap, albeit one that even some very august ancient scholars have fallen into. These are not irrational, unthinking people; they are poor, not stupid – those are not the same things.

But because these households wobble on the edge of disaster continually, that changes the calculus. These small subsistence farmers generally seek to minimize risk, rather than maximize profits. After all, improving yields by 5% doesn’t mean much if everyone starves to death in the third year because of a tail-risk that wasn’t mitigated. Moreover, for most of these farmers, working harder and farming more generally doesn’t offer a route out of the small farming class – these societies typically lack that kind of mobility (and also generally lack the massive wealth-creation potential of industrial power which powers that kind of mobility). Consequently, there is little gain to taking risks and much to lose. So as we’ll see, these farmers generally sacrifice efficiency for greater margins of safety, every time.

Modern farms are built for efficiency – they typically focus on a single major crop (whatever brings the best returns for the land and market situation) because focusing on a single crop lets you maximize the value of equipment and minimize other costs. They rely on other businesses to provide everything else. Such farms tend to be geographically concentrated – all the fields together – to minimize transit time.

Subsistence farmers generally do not do this. Remember, the goal is not to maximize profit, but to avoid family destruction through starvation. If you only farm one crop (the ‘best’ one) and you get too little rain or too much, or the temperature is wrong – that crop fails and the family starves. But if you farm several different crops, that mitigates the risk of any particular crop failing due to climate conditions, or blight (for the Romans, the standard combination seems to have been a mix of wheat, barley and beans, often with grapes or olives besides; there might also be a small garden space. Orchards might double as grazing-space for a small herd of animals, like pigs). By switching up crops like this and farming a bit of everything, the family is less profitable (and less engaged with markets, more on that in a bit), but much safer because the climate conditions that cause one crop to fail may not impact the others.

...Likewise – as that example implies – our small farmers want to spread out their plots. And indeed, when you look at land-use maps of villages of subsistence farmers, what you often find is that each household farms many small plots which are geographically distributed (this is somewhat less true of the Romans, by the by). Farming, especially in the Mediterranean (but more generally as well) is very much a matter of micro-climates, especially when it comes to rainfall and moisture conditions (something that is less true on the vast flat of the American Great Plains, by the by). It is frequently the case that this side of the hill is dry while that side of the hill gets plenty of rain in a year and so on. Consequently, spreading plots out so that each family has say, a little bit of the valley, a little bit of the flat ground, a little bit of the hilly area, and so on shields each family from catastrophe is one of those micro-climates should completely fail (say, the valley floods, or the rain doesn’t fall and the hills are too dry for anything to grow).

...While some high-risk disasters are likely to strike an entire village at once (like a large raid or a general drought), most of the disasters that might befall one farming family (an essential worker being conscripted, harvest failure, robbery and so on) would just strike that one household. So farmers tended to build these reciprocal relationships with each other: I help you when things are bad for you, so you help me when things are bad for me. But those relationships don’t stop merely when there is a disaster, because – for the relationship to work – both parties need to spend the good times signalling their commitment to the relationship, so that they can trust that the social safety net will be there when they need it.

So what do our farmers do during a good harvest to prepare for a bad one? They banquet their neighbors, contribute to village festivals, marry off their sons and daughters with the best dowry they can manage, and try to pay back any favors they called in from friends recently. I stress these not merely because they are survival strategies (though they are) but because these sorts of activities end up (along with market days and the seasonal cycles) defining a great deal of life in these villages. But these events also built that social capital which can be ‘cashed out’ in an emergency. And they are a good survival strategy. Grain rots and money can be stolen, but your neighbor is far likelier to still be your neighbor in a year, especially because these relationships are (if maintained) almost always heritable and apply to entire households rather than individuals, making them able to endure deaths and the cycles of generations.”

- Bret Devereaux, “Bread, How Did They Make It? Part I: Farmers!”

[adamwatchesmovies]

Father Christmas is Back (2021)

Movies like Father Christmas is Back are why people hate Christmas movies. Maybe it’s a British thing because over in North America? This comedy is about as hysterical as a pick-ax to the groin.

It’s hard to tell if the Christmas sisters - Caroline (Nathalie Cox), Joanna (Elizabeth Hurley), Paulina (Naomi Frederick), and Vicky (Talulah Riley) - would've grown up as friends, or if their father leaving 27 years ago is what caused them to become such radically different people that they constantly argue. As Caroline and her husband Peter (Kris Marshall) attempt to host a Christmas celebration at the family Yorkshire mansion, it couldn't get any worse... and then their father (Kelsey Grammer) and his new girlfriend (April Bowlby) show up.

As you meet these characters, you know you’re in for a lousy experience. Caroline is the kind of control freak whose obsession with “getting Christmas right” because daddy left should’ve prompted her husband and kids to get her some psychiatric help. She’s still more mentally sound than Paulina, who spent at least a decade writing a thesis on the Beatles. She’s so useless to the plot they could’ve exed her out and lost NOTHING. The oldest Christmas sister is Joanna, who constantly tries to convince everyone that she isn’t 40+. If her boyfriend had any brains he’d read between the lines. Finally, there’s Vicky, whom everyone falls just short of calling an ultra-slut. Generally, this is a very horny movie, which makes the PG-13 rating a death-knell. The only thing that could’ve made this ordeal interesting is an Elizabeth Hurley wardrobe malfunction - each of her scenes must've demanded a new roll of double-sided tape - or an actual payoff to the mention that “I can’t get any bars in this house!”. If writers Philippe Martinez and Mick Davis had any shred of mercy, they would’ve pulled a bait-and-switch. Father Christmas is Back would’ve started as the yearly holiday slurry no one can stand and then turned into a You’re Next-style home invasion movie with everyone brutally massacred.

The lack of any substantial plot makes this picture infuriating. It’s just people being quarreling for an eternity - and then dad shows up. Then, they keep at it, with extra snide remarks thrown from their uncle (played by John Cleese) to his brother, while their mum (Caroline Quentin) says NOTHING - a dead giveaway that there’s more to the story than we’ve been told. No one could relate to this, particularly when criminal offenses are committed. Except this tale takes place in an alternate universe where nothing matters so the plot (or lack thereof) just keeps chugging along, oblivious to the reality that’s being shattered by the constant lack of consequences.

I swear Father Christmas is Back aims to ruin your day on purpose. At one point, you think the conflict is over, that everything’s wrapped up… and then it keeps going. You’ve got another forty minutes to go. Please. Have mercy! Instead, more "comedic" emotional conflicts emerge; the kind that could’ve been settled decades ago with a 5-minute conversation. Father Christmas is Back will have you reach for the lights on strings so you can hang yourself. (December 20, 2021)

[ruubles]

A Bundle of Crimson Roses (Pt.2)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairings: Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

Warnings: Cursing , Alcohol , Suggestive Themes , Gore , Blood, Violence

Word Count: 7,234

“It has been quite some time since I was last in this room, four years if my memory serves me correctly.” (Y/N)’s hands entwined themselves with one another, nails digging harshly into the subtly soft skin along the back of her hand. Across the table were numerous pairs of eyes trailed along every movement as if at any moment she would seize the opportunity to kill. If it had been back before her leave, then perhaps she would’ve taken the gamble and gone for such a kill; But time has its way of weakening even the strongest of wills

“I believe you’re right. The last meeting you attended was just before you had taken the position in Russia.” There was no helping the sharp laugh that scratched through her throat, bleeding into the air as if it were a snarl from a wild beast. Ogai quirked an eyebrow as he took his rightful spot at the head of the table, it was as though he hadn’t remembered that day the same as she had.

It had been merely a week after Oda’s passing and without Dazai, Mori knew of no way to keep her ability under his control: Everyone in the Port Mafia was under high pressure with the sudden disappearance of an executive. The people under her command during that time must have informed Ogai of a sudden increase in impulsive decisions because before there was time to fix it she had been called to his office. There wasn’t room for objection when he informed (Y/N) of her new position, a reassignment to the Russian wing of the mafia effective immediately. That same night she was on a plane flying two thousand miles away from the only home she’d ever known. 

That was four years ago and the most that had been heard from the boss were small orders spread thinly across the months, each one less and less specified until he had eventually stopped communication all together. It had been for the better benefits of both parties, without Ogai constantly looking over her shoulder she was truly able to help the mafia flourish and even go as far as berading the Russian Mafia into equal standing. Without the threat of her abilities looming in his ranks, Mori had taken over a large deal of the weapons smuggling in Japan which in turn had nearly doubled the yearly profits.

“Taking the position would imply that it had been offered, where I am certain it had been ordered. You hadn’t given me the choice to stay or to go before you handed me an executive order and told me to make my way to the headquarters.” Their gazes met from across the table, his eyes as cold as the continuous fall of snow that occured on a daily basis in Russia. Her words seemed to have sparked a memory in his steelin eyes, glossing them over as he recalled what the happenstance for her leave had been.

Russia wasn’t that bad of a place, it was actually quite the opposite once she had managed to sort through the chaos that was the mafia. It had only taken a month to reclaim almost all of the Far East and once that area was under her command, SIberia was quick to follow suit. Though Ural had been a warzone for a year before they managed to snuff out any traces of the Russian Mob, but by defying odds, they managed to come out of it with the lesser amount of casualties. As of now there are attempts to make connections in Volga, though it is slow moving since the mob seemed to know every move that had been planned to make. The northwestern, central, and north regions are still under the unwavering control of the mob: People loyalties didn’t seem to change even as they watched the rise in strength of the Port Mafia.

Southern Russia was a whole different tale for both sides. It was a no man's land filled to the brim with rats. No matter how long they fought with the mob, both sides had come to terms with the liabilities faced with the presence of such insullant people in what had been claimed as their land. Both could kill each other ruthlessly for months, but in the end they’d both agreed that the destruction of Dostoevsky was to come first and foremost: He posed a greater threat even with such slim numbers.

“My apology, it must have slipped my mind at some point since your departure. It was quite a hectic time for us all.” Ogai lowered his gaze, no longer holding that insufferable chill but instead what resembled some sorts of regret. For the seven years (Y/N) had been working under him, she hadn’t seen him hold such a sorrowful look since the Dragon’s Head Conflict. Even then it was more ruth than regret, he hadn’t been sorry for the lives that were lost but for those who survived to hold their memory. Ogai Mori focused on the future and honored those that had paid for it with their lives, he hadn’t time to mourn their passing.

“Hectic is an understatement. It was chaotic.” Her hands fiddled with the fork, a chunk of chocolate cake still sitting soundly on its tip. It had nearly forgotten as they’d moved to a topic she’d tried so desperately to forget. Now it seemed to be the only thing that could capture her attention. “Any word on Dazai? Last time he and I spoke was before Oda’s death and then he was gone.”

“He resurfaced two years ago working under the Armed Detective Agency.” Ogai seemed delighted to change the topic, but he wanted even more to return to why she’d been brought back to Japan. He wouldn’t be as rude as to force the conversation to go back to it but eventually they'd need to delve deeper into the issue they were facing. For now, a sense of normality should be rebuilt to keep everybody in the organization calm.

“Yukichi been giving you a hard time Ogai?” Yukichi Fukuzawa and Mori Ogai had both done a large favor for her shortly after she’d agreed to work under the mafia’s guidance, though the two fought for opposing goals. Her situation had managed to bring them to a mutual point of interest- one that brought reward for both parties involved. If it hadn’t been for their aid then both her and Isaac would likely be far different people than the ones who work so diligently to protect the few things they’d managed to so selfishly cling to for these years. “That old man is as hard headed as ever I assume. It must be difficult for any of you to make any progress in furthering your goals.”

Ogai nodded and with nimble fingers took off his gloves, the white material slipping off digit after digit to reveal the pale skin that seemed to radiate with a grim promise of light. If it wasn’t for the blood that stained them red he would surely be seen as an angel. Usually Mori preferred to keep his gloves on, but in the presence of someone who could now be considered of equal status it was more so a show of distrust. This was his motion to return the conversation to the topic that has been standing still in the room, even if we diverted the people’s ears to something else their minds would still be clouded with the possibility of losing their abilities. A simple gesture that spoke so much if you had the skill that was required to read the motions of other people. She had been taught that skill for longer than I could remember, it had become more of a curse than a blessing.

“Everyone’s been briefed on the bare minimum of the situation we’re facing and I’d like to know if you could add anything to it (Y/N).” Mori had already given as much as he knew of what they are up against and finding more was difficult to say the least. Information brokers had their loyalties but fear outweighed even the motion of getting paid for a job, but that fear gave hints as to who exactly could manufacture a drug like this one.

(Y/N) put the final piece of cake down, it had been on her fork for several minutes and yet she hadn’t found the heart to take the final bite. So many thoughts had found their way into her mind and dug into scorned memories that it made it difficult to even consider stomaching the delicious sweets from Ms.Young’s bakery. 

Information was an important detail when it came to dealing with any affair, but finding any regarding this new threat would be more difficult than anyone could have thought. Assumptions made by (Y/n) always had a habit of playing out in one way or another. but with something so dangerous threatening to cut at our numbers, it was important that they worked more on fact than fiction.

“I’ve contacted seven brokers in the past twelve hours, none of them have any news on this drug you’re talking about. If it actually does exist then it’s a miracle you even found out about.” She grabbed the papers she’d brought with her and pushed the near finished plate of cake to the side. Fingers ran along the edges of the sheets filled with useless nonsense that wouldn’t help formulate even the simplest of plans. “Mori I need you to be honest with me, how did you find out about this drug.”

“One of our members got shot during a raid this week.” Her eyes moved up from the paperwork to the elder man sitting by Koyo, Ryuro Hirotsu. The black lizards were skilled members of the Port Mafia so being able to take down one of their members was an accomplishment to say the least. “Whoever manufactured that type of bullet knew what they were doing: She had completely lost her ability within five minutes of it being administered.”

“Where are they now?” 

“Gone. Assassinated in her own home last night .” Everyone in the room could practically feel the anger radiating from Tachihara, his fists clenched the edge of the table as he gave his enraged answer. The Mafia was seen as cruel and heartless but even they cared for the lives of their members, their friends. Even people like (Y/N) who hadn’t found a close comrade would still take the time to learn the names and faces of those they would be working with: She herself had taken several hours to do so last night in hopes of knowing the majority of the people who would be attending this meeting.

A deep sigh rasped through her chest, chipping at the calm demeanor she’d managed to hold to since her return. Her head fell back and a loud smack was heard as it came into contact with the wooden back of the chair. Things never seemed to work out in favor of the young executive: You could see as such by the way her (E/C) eyes flickered with such hopeless pain and then returned to their usual gravely glare.

Chuuya watched his new partner with interest, his curiosity from last night now coming to a peak as he learned new bits of information about the woman who he’d only briefly spoken with. It seemed as though she was on good enough terms with Mori but that still didn’t gain his trust: In his line of work, it was important to hold his hand close to his chest as to not allow any scurrilous people to see who he’d become close with. For now he would hold his complaints with an overstrung tongue until she did what he expected from anyone who came close nowadays; Leave him to rot without a second thought as to how much of a pain it would be to fill the void they’d created.

“Have you moved the body?” Her head still remained laxed as she asked the question, addressing it to anyone who had an answer to give. It was as though such simple words had deflated her hopes, jabbing at any resilient confidence that she’d held to throughout the restless night. 

“No.” Tachihara was quick to answer with a stern but simple response that left no room for doubt.

“There it is.” (Y/N) leaned forward, (H/L) hair masking her face in a cascading shadow. Her eyes trailed along the table as though she was placing pieces of a puzzle together, each one falling into its designated place as all those sitting around Mori’s table awaited her explanation. Chuuya leaned forward in anticipation to hear what this new comrade was saying. “The first lead.”

Around the table people collected their ideas and made harsh implications as to who exactly this mystery executive was. Out of the dozen people sitting solemnly in the room, only three had any prior knowledge of her and they made the correct decision not to hold a crude attitude towards her. Mori had, of course, known of (Y/N) for the longest time of the three: Having met her when she was only fifteen, several months after he’d taken the place of the former boss. Kouyou had shared little words with her but knew of her abilities to maintain such a high position in the mafia with what seemed to her as little effort. Hirotsu had merely known her name and had been tasked with keeping her under guard until this meeting, though he had ultimately failed, seeing as she managed to slip away only an hour after their first conversation.

 (Y/N) pushed her chair away with a loud screech that seemed to push away the silence still filling the room. Her hands made deft work of the paper, their corners aligning in mere seconds as she ran her hands along their sides. The final piece of cake still laid untouched on the plate that now sat abandoned atop the table. Without a second glance, she turned, (E/C) eyes set sharply on the door, feet moving with gentle clicks of her heel; Her motions could be deemed practiced as she so confidently strode away from some of the most heinous criminals in the city. “Do you fear me?”

The room's quizzing thoughts seemed to come to a stop all at once, everyone’s eyes drifting back to the woman who was only inches from the door. Chuuya was prepared to follow her from the room, as they were now partners, but he stayed still with a significant interest in what she was saying.  Of course she hadn’t meant to address any of those around the room as they had seen nothing of what abilities she truly possessed; Mori had.

“With your vehement skills I doubt there are many who do not fear for their life in your presence. I’ve been lucky to keep your loyalties under my reign, so I will not make the mistake of giving an answer to this question.” Mori stood, gloved hands folded behind his back in an almost arrogant manor. “I must commend how powerful you are (Y/N). Far beyond what I’d expected when I’d first had the pleasure of meeting you.”

Her laugh was gentle, like the crimson petals of a rose dripping with fresh morning dew in the fields of Elysium. It was a pleasant sound that caught any person’s ear and forced their head to her. “You are far more reserved than many of the people I’ve met in my lifetime, but I quite like that quality. Mori Ogai, may your rule over the mafia be beneficial to this city.”

Without another word, she left.

~ x ~

Chuuya hesitantly looked over to the passenger of his car, his vermillion eyes trapped by her hunched figure. (Y/N)’s eyes scanned over the passing city, lights twinkling in the gloomy darkness of the night. The two hadn’t spoken to one another since (Y/N) had made her departure from the meeting; Their current situation had come about when she’d seen Chuuya leaving and he motioned for her to join him. He’d had a plan to speak with her but the silence that followed his gracious offer had swatted away that idea near instantaneously

This scenario hadn’t gone to either of their likings, Chuuya had wanted to go alone without the burden of another partner weighing him down. Yet when he saw her standing still in the setting light, waiting for something,  he had the urge to strike up what would hopefully be another exhilarating conversation. Perhaps that was his desire to know who he’d be working with in these coming days in fear that they would become someone similar to his last partner.

On the other hand, (Y/N) didn’t mind either way if he were to accompany her or not. She’d been standing before the mafia’s headquarters waiting for a car that Mori claimed would pick her up soon, but after ten minutes she’d given up hope and decided instead to join Chuuya. Personally, she’d wished to make her way to the scene as soon as she’d left the meeting, but Mori hadn’t given her the go ahead until the sun began to set. It had been an annoying situation in her opinion but with the added hours of recreational time she’d managed to check-in with the mafioso who’d taken to running the Russian portion of the Port Mafia in her absence. Everything was going according to plan, which would mean that hopefully she’d be flying back to Russia within the week.

A quiet ring fluttered through the stifling silence but neither of them made a move for their phones. Chuuya could see his dark screen, without any sign of contact from his underlings. He knew it had to be her who was receiving a call but never did she move to answer; Instead her eyes, hollow and void, stayed trailed on the passing buildings. Soon those towering works of architecture would turn to natural tree’s of a forest as they neared their destination. After several minutes, the phone’s ring stopped only to start a moment later.

Sighing, (Y/N) reached into her pocket and pulled the phone to where she could see it. Her hands made quick work to silence the ringer but she didn’t ignore the call. Instead she pressed the answer button and brought the device to her ear. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Isaac was quick to the point, annoyance obvious in the way his loud words stabbed through her ear. Chuuya heard mumbled shouts through the line but couldn’t quite make out what was being said. “Dinner’s ready and I’ve yet to even receive a message from you, so I’m going to make the assumption that you haven’t even left the office yet.”

“I’ve left the office.” (Y/N)’s eyed the street as Chuuya made a sharp right turn, it was a clean motion that made it clear he was well acquainted with his car. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to make it in time. Mori has me doing some recon with a new partner.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!” Isaac snapped through the phone, she could only imagine the look of anger that had likely appeared on his face from her honest claim. Her plan had been to take her time checking out the scene then be back to town in time for Isaac to take her home, but Mori had put her in a bit of disposition. Instead, it was late and she wouldn’t be back in town for a while. “If I had my ability connected to you then I’d drag you here myself, but I guess this can’t be helped. You better make it up to them though; Disappointing me is a usual occurrence for you but they deserve more than that.”

Chuuya felt a bit bad as he could see the tiredness on her face and he knew that whoever was shouting on the other end of the line wasn’t helping. He watched as she took a deep breath, chest beginning to rise and fall in a pattern. “I’ll find a way. Have a nice night.”

Not long after she’d wish him a nice night did Isaac hang up the phone, two beeps signaling the ending of the phone call. She pocketed the device and leaned into the window once more, heat from her body causing fog to slowly creep along the once clear glass. Chuuya opened his mouth as if he wanted to ask a question, but there was little he could think to say as he watched her dissociate from her surrounding environment. Part of him believed she was naive, joining him in his car without even asking a question and the way she trusted him enough to turn her back to him in such a confined space, but he didn’t see her reflection. Though the latter was far different, her eyes had been glued to his reflection in the window from the moment she’d situated herself in his passenger seat; She waited for the moment he’d make an attempt to do something, anything, but it never came.

“Thank you for the ride.” It had taken a half hour for either of them to brave past the awkwardness inside the car and her tone was quiet as if she didn’t truly want to say them, but Chuuya took the moment to continue on. 

“It’s no problem, I’d just finished up some paperwork and thought you could use a ride if we’re going to the same place. We are going to the same place, right?” The sudden realization hit that he hadn’t a clue where she wanted to go and he wanted to be sure that their destination was agreed upon. “The crime scene?”

(Y/N) chuckled at his distressed words, “That would be correct.”

Once again a silence overtook the car, their momentary conversation coming to an end after only a short share of sentences. (Y/N) had taken to her phone, it's screen alight as she scrolled through what seemed to be countless messages. After several minutes of reading she began to click away a very sternly worded message to one of her subordinates. Chuuya went back to driving, his eyes ever so often glancing at his GPS to ensure he was still driving in the right direction.

“You never answered my question.” (Y/N) slammed her phone down on her lap and Chuuya pretended not to notice her obvious anger. Chuuya quirked a brow at her question, head turning to meet her (E/C) eyes in the darkness. She was obviously tired with the way her eyes sunk into her skull and the bags presented them self so sternly. “Did you enjoy the wine?”

“Oh. Yeah, I did. It was quite the bottle, didn’t think I’d be drinking anything that fancy last night.” His face turned sour at an unpleasant memory. “Also didn’t think I’d be drinking as disgusting as the one your friend offered me.”

“In Isaac’s defense, I did ask him for the shittiest bottle he had on the shelf. Apparently it’s the one he gives to people he doesn’t like.” She smiled and turned her phone over when a message made the screen turn on once again. “Might explain why he gave it to me.”

“I thought you two looked close, was my assumption of friends not correct?”

(Y/N) dropped her head, skull smacking against the headrest as she let out a bitter laugh once again. “Isaac and I are a lot more than friends, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t hate him a majority of the time. He’s quite pretentious.”

“You’re different from that woman I met last night; More uptight, scrutinous. That woman who stole my hat wouldn’t have asked a mafia boss if he was scared of her.”

“What can I say, I have many different faces. Same could be said for you Mr.Nakahara.” (Y/N) jabbed at his last name, using a formality that he didn’t truly enjoy. Not many called him by his last name, though it was seen as informal in Japan, and he preferred it that way. “You seem a lot more relaxed than when you were yelling at that young man in the hallway this morning.”

Chuuya’s face fell as he recalled this morning's events: The hangover had only heightened his senses and formed a brutal knot that attacked his head throughout the day. While on his way to the meeting he’d had a run-in with a newer mafioso who had purposely bumped shoulders with Chuuya thinking he was better than the executive himself. That had ended in quite the outburst on the executives half, it had been loud but it got the point across. Disrespect was intolerable in Chuuya’s eyes and the ache in his head had only been nurtured by the yelling he’d done, so of course his anger at the newer member only increased as the day went on. He knew it was wrong but there was little he’d have done differently.

“He was a little punk.” Chuuya grumbled.

They both fell back into a silence, but it no longer rang with an unsaid tension or insatiable curiosity. Instead it seems to flutter with a peaceful wisp of camaraderie as both parties came to a mutual understanding: Neither of them wanted to be partners but until they could find a way out of this arraignment, they might as well do the bare minimum and get along with one another. It would be better not to build any new alliances to the core of the port mafia considering as soon as this was solved, (Y/N) would be flying back to Russia and likely wouldn’t maintain contact with anyone she’d met during her time here.

Finally, after what seemed to span the length of hours, Chuuya made the final turn into a large driveway. Whoever had passed was surely paid well during their time at the mafia. The driveway was circular, encasing a large tree with withered branches that seemed to scratch the star filled sky. Two cars were parked in front of a large house that seemed to hold remnants of classical French architecture, several hints of Japanese style building melded nicely with the classical look. It stood tall, enclosed by shorter surrounding trees, but it was still welcoming; Every part of it held a feeling of home as if someone had spent their whole life building wonderful memories inside the building.

(Y/N) was the first to leave the car, not waiting for any gestures of chivalry from the man who had been kind enough to drive her so far from the city. She’d realized quite a long time ago that people would do the bare minimum to help you but would ask for the world in return. Chuuya was quick to follow her lead, hand working to take the key from the ignition before leaving his car and being sure to lock it. The two walked fairly far from one another, their eyes wandering in case there were any unwarranted guests still lurking in the area. 

The steps to the front door were quickly scaled, Chuuya using an unnecessary amount of his ability to propel himself up the half a dozen stone stairs. (Y/N) took the steps in pairs and in a moment was standing beside her newly assigned partner: Her eyes began to wander along his body, gathering every bit of his appearance to her memory- from the choker wrapped snugly around his neck and down to the slight heels of his boots. A light red coated his feet for a moment before eventually dissipating; She was left to assume it was his ability, Gravity Manipulation.

She’d spent her night researching the many new people who’d been taken to working under Mori in her absence; Many of them had dark and depressing tales, but she didn’t judge for her’s wasn’t much better. Instead she took note of which part of their past might have pushed them to be considered a vain and villainous member of the Port Mafia: Motives often told if someone would inevitably betray you. Yet the most elusive of them all seemed to be her partner himself, even if he were an executive she should still have had access to any documentation of his early life. Nothing. No mention of a family, no close friends, no reason to live a life like this.

All she got from an hour of scouring documents was his ability, an address, and several mission reports that when looked at through her perspective made little to no sense. Perhaps if she had been closer with Dazai around that time frame then some parts of it would have made more sense: King of Sheep, Arahabaki, Rando. Her only connections to Dazai during those few years were their shared title of executive, several miniature missions during the Dragon’s Head Conflict, and Oda. None of it had made for long, friendly conversations; She was much like him in some ways, never attending the meetings where she might have met Chuuya, but unlike him she never was one to take to a partner or a trainee. Another person would only get in her way.

She was a shadow, faceless to all but those closest to her, feared by those who knew of her power: Mori made sure that her true identity remained furtive. One thing every person opposing the Mafia knew was that trust was never an option, it would only take a single wrong assumption before they’d be stabbed in the back by what was thought to be their friend. Once the Dragon’s Head Conflict had come to an end anybody who knew of her true identity had gone missing under what is still considered ‘Mysterious Circumstances’, of course there were several who still knew what she was capable of but those were the people that there was no need to kill: They were either an ally or to far in her past to matter during that time.

Lost in thought, she was only returned when Chuuya attempted to open the door, soon to realize that it remained locked, a disappointed groan rasped through his chest. He had thought that whoever had been here last might’ve had the common sense to leave it unlocked for when the next investigators were to arrive. The house didn’t officially have an address so supposedly the only people who knew of it were those in the mafia; Well now that list would also include whoever had taken her life. Perhaps it was best that they didn’t have a way into the building, it was very late and (Y/N) seemed to be tiring rather quickly. Chuuya was in a similar stance, his vermilion eyes sunken with the pain of an unending headache.

“Well this is a major bust.” Chuuya made a turn and began to make his way back to his car, its black nearly hiding it in the darkness of the night. After a moment he realized that the presence beside him was missing as (Y/N) still stood rooted to her spot before the large doors. The two waited in silence, Chuuya’s eyes on her and her eye’s on the door blocking her from completing the job. 

(Y/N) reeled her leg back, jumpsuit clutching to every inch of her body except for her hands and face- (S/C) fingers balled into fists as she prepared for the incoming impact to the door, face rigid with seriousness but still being just as beautiful as it had been gleaming in the bar light. She was the definition of perfect with a body handcrafted by whatever god pulled the strings of life, it was strange to see how all her little imperfections came together to make something so stunning. Chuuya hadn’t time to admire any of that, instead his focus remained on the fact that she had only the need for a single kick to take the doors down. Their hinges creaked under the force before the doors well flat to the ground with a loud thud.

“No need for a door if she’s dead.” Her words would come off as heartless to anyone, but Chuuya understood what she meant by it. To the latter it was merely her way of saying that they’d come this far and without anyone living inside the building there wasn’t much of a need for a door anymore. Perhaps he should have been angry with the way that she’d worded it, so cruel to a fallen friend of his, but there wasn’t a need to strike an argument over something so trivial. He understood well enough that people in this line of work weren’t ones to usually feel remorse at the loss of a life.

She was first to enter the house, not waiting for her partner to say anything more as she set out to find the truth as to what exactly was the reason behind her return. Mori had given her little information and no broker in the city seemed to know anything so the last hope was dissecting the body of their fallen comrade. Of course she felt forlorn, she hadn’t known this woman but yet was asking her to sacrifice her body for the sake of others. (Y/N) had killed, there was no denying that, but even after all the lives she’d taken, she still wasn’t numb.

Numbness would only succumb when the light of her own eyes dwindled from its constant flicker to a mere ashy stare. Hundreds have died at her hand and she felt little remorse, but every person was like a scar- digging their scared nails across her skin as she killed without mercy. The first scratch always hurts the worst but with every new person falling to their knees before her, the pain slowly begins to fade; But it was still there, in the very depths of her mind. After so many years she might as well just be considered numb; Her dither long since gone and any guilt for the torutre she’d put people through had slowly leaked from her mind as if it were an open drain. Their lives meant little to her, only stepping stools to allow her to climb to her status at the top.

The house was dark, itching with a silence that crept along the corners in fear of being smothered by rattling steps. Chuuya noticed the uneasy air as he walked mere steps behind (Y/N), it was as though the silence itself had taken a conscious form and was preparing to strangle them in a single moment. Their steps mixed to one in a dance of paired solitude and both their breaths seemed to do the same: In seperate bodies they became one to make the sounds of their presence near indistinguishable. In that moment their minor disagreements had faded and they became a team made in heaven but fallen to the hellish life of the mafia. If anyone were to still be in that house then their life would likely soon be ended.

(Y/N) was the first to come to the end of the hall, her steps coming to a halt in a matter of seconds as she scanned the large open area. The hall they passed through had only been twenty paces through the door, meaning that whoever had broken in to commit the crime had either been very quiet or came in via a different route. They had passed several doors along their way but nothing inside them had caught her attention; An office in pristine shape with papers stacked high atop its glimmering wooden surface, a closet only half full of shoes and clothing that likely belonged to a mixture of genders, and a bathroom with a set of standard mission clothes laying on its tile floor. In her mind (Y/N) could see what had happened that night: She had entered her home and quickly stripped from her blood soaked clothing, as for the rest she would likely find more the further she explored the house.

Whoever this woman had been, she had quite the taste in architecture. The hall led into an area that seemed to act as a living room of sorts, a couch and television situated by a large wall of windows. On the other side of the glass was a large garden with paths leading further into the depths of its secrets. To the left was a floating staircase that led to the second story and to the right was a kitchen, only separated from the living room by a marble island.

“I’ll search upstairs and you can take it down here.” Chuuya pushed by (Y/N) as he spoke, his voice low enough so that only she could hear. He doubted that anyone was still in the house, even if there were then they likely knew of their presence, but being cautious in these times would not only keep himself safe but his partner as well. “If you need help then don’t be afraid to call.”

He didn’t wait for a response as he climbed the stairs and disappeared into the depths of the darkness. Standing alone in the center of the house made her surroundings feel so much larger, the space behind her was no longer radiated with warmth. Upstairs she could hear the creak of the floorboards as Chuuya walked down the halls, (Y/N) focused her sights on the kitchen and slowly crept over. Her hand ran along the smooth white walls and finally, upon stepping foot on the kitchen tiles, she felt the light panel beneath her fingers.

She flipped the switch and the light hanging from the ceiling lit the room with a brightness that not even the moon could provide at this hour. Without the darkness lingering through the air (Y/N) was finally able to properly see the area around her. It was sparkling and clean, pristine as though it had been cleaned thoroughly the day before. No blood, no body, and certainly no danger. It was almost peaceful.

Almost.

(Y/N) could see the splatter of blood drenching the cushions of the light gray sofa, the red looked almost black from so far away but she knew the truth behind it. When blood is dried then it darkens and the stain is likely to never be clean from the surface. The woman had rid herself of her blood stained clothes and used a towel to wash away the visible streaks on her skin (It was impossible to erase the ones along her soul) and had rested upon the couch to recuperate from such a burdensome mission; Then she had been killed. Mori had said the body would be covered with a sheet in preparation of dissection, but yet there was no sheet in sight.

Someone had been here long before their arrival, and that person was no friend of the mafia. Whoever had come here and disturbed the scene had taken the body as to prevent any information from being extracted: With the blood having been left out for so long there was likely little remaining information to be collected from it. The body was gone and so were any of the leads that had been left with it. The only hope they had now was if those that had discovered the body before them had been wise enough to at least collect some samples of their DNA.

(Y/N) sighed and left the kitchen, light still fluttering throughout the bottom most floor of the house. Her feet clicked gently against the wooden floors as she slowly walked towards the blood stained couch. The blood clashed violently with the white cushions and it was obvious that her death had been the cause of blood loss, one large pool and several surrounding droplets proposed the idea of a knife wound rather than a gunshot.

She turned away from the stain in an almost defensive manner and scanned the rest of the area, eyes clawing through the darkness searching for something that wasn’t quite there. “Did you find anything down here?”

“Missing body. Cause of death likely a knife wound.” Chuuya jumped down the last two steps and stalked towards her, hands in his pocket. He walked past her and to the couch, his hand trailing along the top of the cushion and down to the stain.

“You figured all of that out from a couple of blood stains?” He nearly chuckled at the confidence that laced itself through her analyses. 

“If it were poison there wouldn’t have been a blood stain. Gunshot wounds would be more splattered and less centered around a focal point. Whether it be a stab or a slice across the neck, a knife would cause the blood to drip to a specific point. It’s simple enough logic.” (Y/N) wasn’t paying attention to Chuuya as she spoke, her explanation dripping methodically from her mouth as her (E/C) eyes locked onto something. 

The back doors gleamed with reflections of the kitchen's light, but through that bright light were shadows. Dark and dripping with mystery they encased the gazebo in an unnatural darkness. Chuuya continued to talk about what they were to do now, but his words fell on deaf ears as (Y/N)’s hand reached for the door handle. With one hard pull the door slid to the side and made an opening more than large enough for her to pass through. It seemed as though Chuuya hadn’t noticed as he continued to look around the lower floor to look at the stains on the couch.

With little hesitation, (Y/N) left the warmth of the house's walls and stepped into the cold breeze of the autumn outdoors. Her shoes had a different click as they went from the hardwood floor to a pathway of large rocks. The backyard was large and spiraled with countless flowers that danced in the moonlight, hundreds of bushes that still seemed to bloom even in the coming winter. Rows of Lilacs scatter around, their purple clashing violently with the numerous roses bushes scatter about, the red petals dancing with the color of blood and making (Y/N) cringe. They were such beautiful flowers, but they lulled people in with their beauty and then painted their petals red with their victims blood.

The closer she stepped to the gazebo, the more she noticed the shadows retreating as her eyes adjusted to the environment. Finally she was able to see what she had actually caught sight of from the house.

A head, severed from its body laid in a small pool of dried blood, far less than there should have been. It was clear that the head was from the victim, her long hair was matted with blood and the area where her neck met the concrete had gnarled skin and cuts that had scabbed with dried blood. Her eyes were open, glossed over as though she were still alive and trapped in a trance. Her mouth was slightly agape, trails of blood running from the corners of her mouth and down her face.

[oceanera12]

Star Wars Pizza AU

You read that right. In my defense, I saw a post about someone ordering pizza and their order was number 66. I decided to read the comments for a laugh. And then my brain exploded. Whoops.

Dominos (aka the Clones)

The franchise was technically bought by the owner of Little Senators years ago, but no one knows about that except the original owners (*cough cough* The Kamino family *cough cough*) who pretend they’re still in charge for a large hunk of money (ILLEGALLY)

Their best store (the one that makes the most money and has the best reviews) is in the city named after the Kamino’s (Kamino) and is run and operated by a different family, the “Fetts” (and no one is sure how it is legal, but so far no one’s gotten sued so...)

It’s a joke that the “Fetts” will run out of workers at some point but so far it hasn’t happened.

Also, weirdly enough, all of the employees are boys and look a lot alike

The manager’s name is Cody. He’s very strict on the dress code, very fair to the customers, and loves his job.

His brother, Fox, manages another Dominos across town and the two of them will often team up on especially large orders and hold a (friendly) yearly competition between the two stores (Cody’s team has won the last three years, something he will bring up whenever he can)

They have another brother, Wolffe, who manages another store as well, but he’s across the country so they don’t see him as much.

All three were taught how to make pizza, run the storefront, etc, by their grandfather (Ninety-Nine), who passed away a few years back. Their grandfather was one of the original managers during the franchises’ early years

Rex is the younger brother of Cody and acts as an assistant manager to him. Rex hopes to be promoted one day but he’s happy where he is right now.

Boil and Waxer (the cousins) are the best chefs they have. The kitchen is filled with bickering and teasing with flying dough and toppings but everything comes out perfectly (somehow).

Kix and Jesse are the head delivery boys. They are in charge of training the newbies and take the furthest orders (Jesse is known to run the speed limit at one point going 90 down a 35. Kix knows the city like the back of his hand and knows all the short cuts)

Nicknamed, “The Domino Squad” (aka, the thing that started this AU idea), is Fives, Echo, Hevy, Droidbait, and Cutup. (Fives and Echo are twins, with Droidbait as a little bro while Hevy and Cutup are cousins of theirs. All are nephews to Rex and Cody) Cody and Rex quickly learned the five of them could handle the day shift all by themselves. (hence the nickname) 

Fives is excellent on the front end, taking orders and answering the phone with a friendly smile and pleasant attitude.

Echo is the best on the register, his mind able to add up the order and give back change very quickly and efficiently. He also keeps the orders straight and has never given anyone the wrong slip/pizza.

Hevy can run the kitchen on a busy shift with help from Cutup (who doubles as a janitor when needed).

Droidbait is one of their fastest delivery boys and manages to rack in a lot on tips and good reviews.

Hadcase and Tup are also delivery boys, with Dogma helping in the kitchen. Tup is also trained on register and is quite good at it.

The advertising team is nicknamed “The Bad Batch” because why would anyone in their family go into advertising over pizza making? (Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, and Crosshair would, apparently)

Pizza Hutt (aka bounty hunters and scoundrels) 

Jabba is the owner (who else would it be)

Their best store is in the town of Tatooine, which is weird given how hot the climate is.

The manager is this really creepy guy named Bib Fortuna.

Employee of the month (most of the time) is the delivery boy Boba Fett (who deserted from Domino’s after his dad died in a car accident or something). Bobba is known for always delivering on time and with the food still hot. He’s also really good at getting extra on his tips.

The employees come and go on a regular basis, some staying for several years, others only a few days. Jabba is very particular about his place and if he doesn’t like the worker or how someone is doing something, he’ll fire them. Usually with no notice.

On the plus side, Jabba is known to give some pretty good bonus’ if you do a really good job.

Every once in a while, the company offers a special topping. No one is a hundred percent sure what it is but it tastes really good so it sells well. (Don’t ask me what it is)

The employees are not allowed to interact or affliate themselves with any of the other pizza places or Jabba will fire them. He’s very jealous of his company and will not risk losing his secret recipies (hence why only a few people actually know it)

Han and Chewy work there for summer jobs.

Little Senators (later Little Empire-- aka Palpatine and pals)

Palpatine “bought” the franchise years ago (he persuaded the previous owner to basically give it to him with some blackmail and a few other shady business moves, but hey. If no one can trace them, it never happened)

Their best store is in Coruscant (which also happens to be one of the biggest cities in the country) and are considered one of the largest franchises in pizza (if not the largest)

There are two managers that stand above the rest: Dooku and Padme.

Dooku runs the southern Coruscant Little Senators while Padme runs the one in the little off branch city of Naboo. Neither like the other one.

Dooku’s store is known to deliver on time and never mix up orders. The actual pizza’s taste fine, but they are a little haphazardly thrown together.

Padme’s store is known for having the “better tasting” pizza and their food is always hot. If the order is mixed up, they do full refunds and deliver the proper order with no charge.

Dooku’s store is one of the first experimenting with robotic help at the counter and in the kitchen. It goes... well enough.

Padme’s assistant manager is Bail Organa and her best employee is her daughter, Leia Amidala.

When Palpatine brings out the new name (Little Empire), Dooku fully supports it and continues under the franchise.

Padme doesn’t support it or the new company regulations (”These new rules and regulations are tyranny!”) and quits (along with Bail) to start their own pizza place (it’s like a local family joint, not a franchise but who knows). They call it “Pizza Rebel”.

Papa Yoda’s (aka the Jedi)

I can’t stop laughing at the name of this one, help

Yoda is the owner (duh) and most of the employees believe he’s at least a hundred and are shocked he’s still alive. And working. He’s short, walks around with a wooden spoon and will whack anyone who tries to eat the toppings. And yes, he is still involved in the kitchen (and hasn’t retired)

He taught Dooku all about the business of making and selling pizza’s. Dooku grew in skill and then one day left the company without a word. A few years later he showed up as a manager in Little Senators. Ever since then, Papa Yoda’s has been struggling to stay a float.

Some managers worth mentioning: Mace Windu, Obi-Wan, Plo Koon, and Shaak Ti.

Obi-Wan runs the store in Naboo, which had been run by his teacher, Qui-Gon Jinn until his sudden death several years ago. He is the youngest employee made into manager to date. His assistant manager is Anakin Skywalker, who really wants his own store but Yoda thinks he’s not quite ready (which he isn’t). Their best employee is Ahsoka Tano, who can do it all (cook, deliver, and serve) followed closely behind by Luke Amidala (who Anakin claims he’s not related to, but everyone knows otherwise)

(Anakin has been secretly married to Padme of Little Senators but when she leaves the company there’s not much of a reason to keep it a secret. Turns out it really wasn’t a secret because everyone in the store knew-- they also knew about Luke and Leia, apparently)

Mace Windu runs his store alone, but runs it efficiently. The closest thing he has to an assistant manager is his head cook, Deba Billaba. Caleb Dume (Kanan Jarrus) is their best delivery boy who has recently decided to start training some of the newbies (Sabine Wren, Ezra Bridger, Garazeb Orrelios). The front end is run by Hera Syndulla (who may or may not be dating Caleb, it’s a running bet).

Plo Koon and Shaak Ti run their store together (as business partners that’s it) and are known to treat their employees, customers, and their rivals with consideration and kindness. They have a shop very close to Wolffe’s Dominos, which does cause some contention at low points but for the most part, they get along fine. (Plo and Shaak Ti absolutely love the family dynamic between Wolffe’s “pack” of employees). The two will often help Wolffe and his crew in outside business affairs (finding open apartments for employees, helping buy a first car, etc) and they will do the same for the two managers. Most people don’t get how Dominos and Papa Yoda’s are both still open because of this relationship, but they are. (In the future, someone finally figured out Dominos had some legal issues in it’s ownership and was forced to merge with Little Empire or shut down. Wolffe chose to shut down and he and his pack were immediately offered jobs at Papa Yoda’s. They accepted.)

Yoda actually manages a store as well. It’s the “first” one he ever opened and he uses it as a training grounds of sorts for future managers and other job positions. He’s patient, but strict and will often speak in riddles which is annoying to no end. He finds it a great way to weed out the ones that don’t want to be there, and the ones that do.

Order #66 has been banned as an order number. The “why” is never to be spoken of ever again and all the newbies are confused and will ask, but no one will tell them because “they don’t talk about it”

[birdlord]

Everything I Watched in 2020

We’ll start with movies. The number in parentheses is the year of release, asterisks denote a re-watch, and titles in bold are my favourite watches of the year. Here’s 2019’s list. 

01 Little Women (19)

02 The Post (17) 

03 Molly’s Game (17)

04 * Doctor No (62)

05 Groundhog Day (93)

06 *Star Trek IV - The Voyage Home (86)

07 Knives Out (19) My last theatre experience (sob)

08 Professor Marston and his Wonder Women (17)

09 Les Miserables (98)

10 Midsommar (19) I’m not sure how *good* it is, but it does stick in the ol’ brain

11 *Manhattan Murder Mystery (93)

12 Marriage Story (19)

13 Kramer vs Kramer (79)

14 Jojo Rabbit (19)

15 J’ai perdu mon corps (19) a cute animated film about a hand detached from its body!

16 1917 (19)

17 Married to the Mob (88)

18 Klaus (19)

19 Portrait of a Lady on Fire (19) If Little Women made me want to wear a scarf criss-crossed around my torso, this one made me want to wear a cloak

20 The Last Black Man in San Francisco (19)

21 *Lawrence of Arabia (62)

22 Gone With the Wind (39)

23 Kiss Me Deadly (55)

24 Dredd (12)

25 Heartburn (86) heard a bunch about this one in the Blank Check series on Nora Ephron, sadly after I’d watched it

26 The Long Shot (19)

27 Out of Africa (85)

28 King Kong (46)

29 *Johnny Mnemonic (95)

30 Knocked Up (07)

31 Collateral (04)

32 Bird on a Wire (90)

33 The Black Dahlia (05)

34 Long Time Running (17)

35 *Magic Mike (12)

36 Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead (07)

37 Cold War (18)

38 *Kramer Vs Kramer (79) yes I watched this a few months before! This was a pandemic friend group co-watch.

39 *Burn After Reading (08)

40 Last Holiday (50)

41 Fly Away Home (96)

42 *Moneyball (11) I’m sure I watch this every two years, at most??

43 Last Holiday (06) the Queen Latifah version of the 1950 movie above, lacking, of course, the brutal “poor people don’t deserve anything good” ending

44 *Safe (95)

45 Gimme Shelter (70)

46 The Daytrippers (96)

47 Experiment in Terror (62)

48 Tucker: The Man and His Dream (88)

49 My Brilliant Career (79) one of the salvations of 2020 was watching movies “with” friends. Our usual method was to video chat before the movie, sync our streaming services, and text-chat while the movie was on. 

50 Divorce Italian Style (61)

51 *Gosford Park (01) another classic comfort watch, fuck I love a G. Park

52 Hopscotch (80)

53 Brief Encounter (45)

54 Hud (63)

55 Ocean’s 8 (18)

56 *Beverly Hills Cop (84)

57 Blow the Man Down (19)

58 Constantine (05)

59 The Report (19) maddening!! How are people so consistently terrible to one another!

60 Everyday People (04)

61 Anatomy of a Murder (58)

62 Spiderman: Homecoming (17)

63 *To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar (95) Of the 90s drag road movies, Priscilla is more visually striking, but this has its moments.

64 Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me (92)

65 *The Truman Show (98)

66 Mona Lisa (86)

67 The Blob (58)

68 The Guard (11)

69 *Waiting for Guffman (96) RIP Fred Willard

70 Rocketman (19)

71 Outside In (18)

72 The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (08) how strange to see a movie that you have known the premise for, but no details of, for over a decade

73 *Star Trek: The Undiscovered Country (91)

74 The Reader (08)

75 Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (19) This was fine until it VERY MUCH WAS NOT FINE

76 The End of the Affair (99) you try to watch a fun little romp about infidelity during the Blitz, and Graham Greene can’t help but shoehorn in a friggin crisis of religious faith

77 Must Love Dogs (05) barely any dog content, where are the dogs at

78 The Rainmaker (97)

79 *Batman & Robin (97)

80 National Lampoon’s Vacation (83) Never seen any of the non-xmas Vacations, didn’t realize the children are totally different, not just actors but ages! Also, this one is blatantly racist!

81 *Mystic Pizza (88)

82 Funny Girl (68)

83 The Sons of Katie Elder (65)

84 *Knives Out (19) another re-watch within the same year!! How does this keep happening??

85 *Scott Pilgrim Vs The World (10) a real I-just-moved-away-from-Toronto nostalgia watch

86 Canadian Bacon (92) vividly recall this VHS at the video store, but I never saw it til 2020

87 *Blood Simple (85)

88 Brittany Runs a Marathon (19)

89 The Accidental Tourist (88)

90 August Osage County (13) MELO-DRAMA!!

91 Appaloosa (08)

92 The Firm (93) Feeling good about how many iconic 80s/90s video store stalwarts I watched in 2020

93 *Almost Famous (00)

94 Whisper of the Heart (95)

95 Da 5 Bloods (20)

96 Rain Man (88)

97 True Stories (86)

98 *Risky Business (83) It’s not about what you think it’s about! It never was!

99 *The Big Chill (83)

100 The Way We Were (73)

101 Safety Last (23) It’s getting so that I might have to add the first two digits to my dates...not that I watch THAT many movies from the 1920s...

102 Phantasm (79)

103 The Burrowers (08)

104 New Jack City (91)

105 The Vanishing (88)

106 Sisters (72)

107 Puberty Blues (81) Little Aussie cinema theme, here

108 Elevator to the Gallows (58)

109 Les Diaboliques (55)

110 House (77) haha WHAT no really W H A T

111 Death Line (72)

112 Cranes are Flying (57)

113 Holes (03)

114 *Lady Vengeance (05)

115 Long Weekend (78)

116 Body Double (84)

117 The Crazies (73) I love that Romero shows the utter confusion that would no doubt reign in the case of any kind of disaster. Things fall apart.

118 Waterlilies (07)

119 *You’re Next (11)

120 Event Horizon (97)

121 Venom (18) I liked it, guys, way more than most superhero fare. Has a real sense of place and the place ISN’T New York!

122 Under the Silver Lake (18) RIP Night Call

123 *Blade Runner (82)

124 *The Birds (62) interesting to see now that I’ve read the story it came from

125 *28 Days Later (02) hits REAL FUCKIN’ DIFFERENT in a pandemic

126 Life is Sweet (90)

127 *So I Married an Axe Murderer (93) find me a more 90s movie, I dare you (it’s not possible)

128 Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (67)

129 The Pelican Brief (93) 90s thrillers continue!

130 Dick Johnston is Dead (20)

131 The Bridges of Madison County (95)

132 Earth Girls are Easy (88) Geena Davis and Jeff Goldblum are so hot in this movie, no wonder they got married 

133 Better Watch Out (16)

134 Drowning Mona (00) trying for something like the Coen bros and not getting there

135 Au Revoir Les Enfants (87)

136 *Chasing Amy (97) Affleck is the least alluring movie lead...ever? I also think I gave Joey Lauren Adams’ character short shrift in my memory of the movie. It’s not good, but she’s more complicated than I recalled. 

137 Blackkklansman (18)

138 Being Frank (19)

139 Kiki’s Delivery Service (89)

140 Uncle Frank (20) why so many FRANKS

141 *National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (89) watching with pals (virtually) made it so much more fun than the usual yearly watch!

142 Half Baked (98) another, more secret Toronto nostalgia pic - RC Harris water filtration plant as a prison!

143 We’re the Millers (13)

144 All is Bright (13)

145 Defending Your Life (91)

146 Christmas Chronicles (18) I maintain that most new xmas movies are terrible, particularly now that Netflix churns them out like eggnog every year. 

147 Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse (18)

148 Reindeer Games (00) what did I say about Affleck??!? WHAT DID I SAY

149 Palm Springs (20)

150 Happiest Season (20)

151 *Metropolitan (90) it’s definitely a Christmas movie

152 Black Christmas (74)

THEATRE:HOME - 2:150 (thanks pandemic)

I usually separate out docs and fiction, but I watched almost no documentaries this year (with the exception of Dick Johnston). Reality is real enough. 

TV Series

01 - BoJack Horseman (final season) - Pretty damned poignant finish to the show, replete with actual consequences for our reformed bad boy protagonist (which is more than you can say for most antiheroes of Peak TV).

02 - *Hello Ladies - I enjoy the pure awkwardness of seeing Stephen Merchant try to perform being a Regular Person, but ultimately this show tips him too far towards a nasty, Ricky Gervais-lite sort of persona. Perhaps he was always best as a cameo appearance, or lip synching with wild eyes while Chrissy Teigen giggles?

03 - Olive Kittredge - a rough watch by times. I read the book as well, later in the year. Frances Mcdormand was the best, possibly the only, casting option for the flinty lead. One episode tips into thriller territory, which is a shock. 

04 - *The Wire S3, S4, S5 - lockdown culture! It was interesting to rewatch this, then a few months later go through an enormous, culture-level reappraisal of cop-centred narratives. 

05 - Forever - a Maya Rudolph/Fred Armisen joint that coasts on the charm of its leads. The premise is OK, but I wasn’t left wanting any more at the end. 

06 - *Catastrophe - a rewatch when my partner decided he wanted to see it, too!

07 - Red Oak - resolutely “OK” steaming dramedy, relied heavily on some pretty obvious cues to get across its 1980s setting. 

08 - Little Fires Everywhere - gulped this one down while in 14-day isolation, delicious! Every 90s suburban mom had that SUV, but not all of them had the requisite **secrets**

09 - The Great - fun historical comedy/drama! Costumes: lush. Actors: amusing. Race-blind casting: refreshing!

10 - The Crown S4 - this is the season everyone lost their everloving shit for, since it’s finally recent enough history that a fair chunk of the viewing audience is liable to recall it happening. 

11 - Ted Lasso - we resisted this one for a while (thought I did enjoy the ad campaign for NBC sports (!!) that it was based on). My view is that its best point was the comfort that the men on the show have (or develop, throughout the season) with the acknowledgement and sharing of their own feelings. Masculinity redux. 

12 - Moonbase 8 - Goodnatured in a way that makes you certain they will be crushed. 

13 - The Good Lord Bird - Ethan Hawke is really aging into the character actor we always hoped he would be! 

14 - Hollywood - frothy wish-fulfillment alternate history. I think the show would have been improved immeasurably by skipping the final episode.

[adverb-slut]

The Purgatory Hall Boys Are Bad at Road Trips (Fanfiction)

I just *clutches chest* really love the boys at Purgatory Hall and felt they needed more spotlight so here they are being big dummies on the road.  Oh, I also posted this on AO3 here. 

Title:

The Purgatory Hall Boys Are Bad at Road Trips

Summary:

On a R.A.D-sanctioned road trip to the Caverns of Degeneracy, the Purgatory Hall boys prove that they have just as many brain cells as the demon brothers (read: none).

Genre:

Humor/Fluff/Slice of Life

Rating:

T

Word Count:

6870

-

Hour 0

Our story begins just outside the gates of Purgatory Hall, where two of its three non-native Devildom residents stood near a rather expensive-looking, immaculately-maintained vehicle. 

The short, prone-to-fits-of-righteous-anger one yanked behind him a wagon, which was piled high with duffel and overnight bags, all made of a stiff white and gold fabric straight from the Celestial Realm.  

The other, older man, who never left home without a mysterious smile and his magic wand, too, tugged the handle of his own luggage—although his was a wheeled backpack which sagged due to the weight of the approximately seven-hundred souvenir keychains from around the Human World that he had clipped onto it.

The pair were waiting for their third friend—who, in every sense of the word, was an angel—as together they were planning to embark upon a new R.A.D tradition, which the Demon Prince Diavolo had appropriately christened—Our Annual Road Trip to the Caverns of Degeneracy (A.R.T C.D for short).  The Caverns of Degeneracy were on the far outskirts of the Devildom, over six-hundred-and-sixty-six miles away from the R.A.D campus, and yet, for some asinine reason, Diavolo had decided that they were the perfect spot for hosting the academy’s yearly Bleeding Hearts Festival.  

(Many of the Student Council Officers and faculty had wagered that the Demon Prince had just wanted an excuse to take a road trip—a phenomenon he had recently been introduced to through one of Leviathan’s video games.)

Diavolo himself planned for his personal driver to ferry him and his butler, Barbatos, up to the Caverns a day early so he could begin preparations for the festival and encouraged all students to find their own means of transportation in order to get to the event on time.

The R.A.D Student Council Officers—all of whom resided in the House of Lamentation—had decided to pile themselves into Asmodeus’ tour bus (he had bought it specifically because once he became a famous DevilTuber, he would need it to do meet-and-greets with his fans and also because it had a “bear-y adorable design”) and drive down together.  

As the Purgatory Hall boys had no modes of transportation to call their own, Lucifer had graciously allowed them to borrow Mammon’s Demonio 666 Lexura (fits had ensued à la the secondborn but were ignored), which both Luke and Solomon now hovered around.

However, as Solomon poked and prodded the vehicle, commenting admiringly under his breath at the paint job, the young angel peered nervously at the sorcerer’s backpack.  

He cleared his throat, bent on sounding as polite as possible—but failing miserably—and said, “Solomon, er—are you the one who’s bringing our road trip snacks?”  He followed this with a silent please say no, please say no, Father please let him say no.

Solomon raised an eyebrow.  “I thought you were bringing them.”

Luke dropped the handle of his wagon.  “No!  I would’ve made some snacks if I had the time but I was helping those,” he gagged, “wretched demon brothers pack using some low-level Celestial Realm magic.”  

“Oh, that’s right,” Solomon said, snapping his fingers.  “I just remembered that I volunteered to make the snacks, but Simeon heard and immediately offered to do it for me.  Then he sent me on a bunch of errands to buy groceries, but it felt more like he was trying to get me out of the kitchen.”  He laughed at the last part and shook his head because there was no way that such a criminally calm angel like Simeon would be that underhanded.  

“No!” wailed Luke, yanking his hat off and clutching it to his chest in despair.  “Don’t you know what this means?”    

“It means you don’t like Simeon’s cooking as much as you let on,” decided the sorcerer with a smile at Luke’s theatrical display.

Luke shook his head so vigorously that Solomon had to hold in a laugh based on how much the angel looked like a chihuahua shaking itself dry.  “For trips, Simeon only makes the most nutritious, most energizing food.”  He screwed up his face in disgust as he seethed, “The most disgusting food.”

“The stuff Simeon cooks for dinner isn’t particularly unhealthy and you seem to like that just fine,” pointed out Solomon.

Luke frowned.  “Yes, b—but I’m talking about real healthy stuff here, so we’ll all have lots of energy throughout the trip!  L—like entire salads squished between two pieces of bread and ‘yummy morsels’ of banana slices dipped in cashew butter and drizzled with mung bean and coconut water paste!”  He gestured toward himself.  “Look at me, Solomon!  I was made for jam-filled pastries and perfectly-iced cakes!  No—not,” he shuddered, “health foods.”

“You’re serious?  He’s really going to bring that kind of stuff?” Solomon’s eyes widened.  “I guess I should’ve given in to my gut intuition and made some pork pies as backup snacks.  ‘Snackups,’ if you will.”

Luke could feel bile rising up his throat at the thought of Solomon’s cooking.  “Er—no, I don’t think that would’ve been necessary!”  He spotted a figure exiting Purgatory Hall.  “Oh, look, there’s Simeon, now; we can just ask him what snacks he brought.”

“And then burn them,” finished Solomon.

The younger angel gave a scandalized gasp at the comment as Solomon nodded at Simeon, who walked closer to the pair.  

A lone celestial blue suitcase trailed behind the elder angel as he beamed at his traveling companions.  “Is everyone ready?”  Before waiting for an answer, he turned toward Luke with a gaze that was almost motherly in nature.  “And has everyone gone to the bathroom?  We only have a day to drive to the Caverns of Degeneracy and I want to see some of the Devildom sights along the way.  I even brought an instant camera to take pictures.”  

He pulled out from his cape pocket said camera and an enormous stack of printed DevilmapQuest directions and began to rifle through them, trying to decide which of the landmarks and tourist destinations he wanted to visit most.  

“S—Simeon!  Why did you have to stare at me when you asked if we all went to the bathroom?  I may be young, but I at least know that I should go to the bathroom before long car rides!”  He then blushed and handed Solomon his wagon handle.  “A—and that being said, I—I have to go to the bathroom.”

As he ran inside, Solomon peered over Simeon’s shoulder at the map sheets and laughed.  “You know, most of these directions are online.”

“I know, I know,” admitted the older angel.  “But reading the directions off of a D.D.D requires knowing how to operate one, and you know I’m not too good at that.”  

Solomon smiled and said, “That’s fine, then.  We three will take turns driving and meanwhile, one of the two who aren’t behind the wheel will navigate.”  

“Haha, you’re aware Luke can’t drive, right?” asked Simeon, turning to give Solomon a look that cautiously strode the line between tolerant and what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you.  

“Well, I guess he’ll be the one giving directions, then,” replied Solomon, without missing a beat.  He couldn’t help but silently add he’ll be doing that, either way.  

As Simeon continued to sort through the DevilmapQuest papers and double-check all the items packed in the messenger bag slung across his shoulder, Solomon began to load everyone’s luggage into Mammon’s car.  He couldn’t help but envision himself playing Tetris as he carefully arranged in the trunk the seven blocky bags that the group had among them—six of which belonged to Luke, who packed as if he were planning to change his clothes at least twelve times a day.    

His own backpack—and Simeon’s messenger bag—would be staying with the trio in the cabin space of the car.  He hadn’t felt the need to pack nearly as many outfits as Luke and most of his bag consisted of medical supplies, while Simeon’s was supposed to be filled to the brim with road trip snacks.

Speaking of snacks, Solomon felt his mouth turn dry as he mulled over the healthy monstrosities that Luke believed the older angel had created in place of actually palatable food.  He turned to Simeon.  “Er, Simeon—what’s on the menu in terms of snackage?”

“‘Snackage?’” Simeon laughed.  He pat his messenger bag and said, “Let’s see, well, whenever I go on long trips, I try to make foods that provide a lot of energy, since we’re going to need it—especially you and I, as we’ll be driving.  Here, I made dried, salted edamame and roasted chickpea trail mix, almond-butter-and-white-bean-stuffed dried dates, and oatmeal-honey-sesame-black-bean balls with dried pineapple, coconut, and avocado.”   

Solomon did not like how many times Simeon had mentioned “beans,” for as far as he was concerned, road trip food was junk food exclusively.  He took a deep breath and carefully twisted his mouth into a smile.  “That sounds well … delicious. Ten out of ten.”

“Excellent.  Now, where is Luke?”  Simeon peered behind them toward Purgatory Hall, where a munchkin of a silhouette now appeared.  “Ah, there he is.”  He tossed Solomon the keyring Mammon had tearfully given him the day before.  “Mind starting the car?”

Solomon nodded and after examining the gaudy charms that adorned Mammon’s keys, he clicked open the car and stepped toward the driver’s seat door.  “I’ll take the first shift.  It’ll take us fifteen hours of sheer driving to get to the Caverns of Degeneracy, so we’ll take three-hour turns.”  

As Solomon yanked the car door open, something tumbled out of the front seat.  He jumped back, and Simeon and Luke rushed toward the commotion.  

“M—Mammon?  What are you doing here?” exclaimed Luke.  

Simeon laughed, his brows furrowing in confusion.  “Hoping to hitch a ride?”

Solomon had to swallow his smile when he saw the almost-comical tears that ran down Mammon’s face.  “Did your brothers leave you behind?”

“N— no!  They’d never leave without me, The Great Mammon!”  Mammon hastily wiped his nose before sprawling his hands over his Demonio 666 Lexura.  “I just couldn’t fathom leavin’ my beloved baby for so long!  I had to say goodbye!”

“Speaking of saying goodbye, you do know that Asmo’s bus already left a few minutes ago, right?” asked Simeon.  “I caught a glimpse of them before I came out here and they were already on the road.”

Mammon’s face paled.  “Wh—what?  They wouldn’t! Wait—of course, they would!  Those bastards!”  He immediately turned into his demon form, planted a kiss on his car’s hood, and sped off into the horizon.

“I suddenly understand what the term ‘speed demon’ means,” commented Luke as he watched Mammon’s quickly disappearing form.

“I sure hope he manages to catch up to them,” Solomon said, rubbing his chin.  “Anyway, everyone, pile in.  It’s time to get this show on the road.”

Hour 1

After they had driven well out of the bounds of R.A.D’s campus, Solomon announced, “All right—first item on the agenda—”

Luke raised his hand from the back passenger seat as he strained against his seatbelt.  “—What’s an ‘agenda?’”

“Oh.  An agenda is basically a list of things we have to do,” explained Solomon.

Simeon’s eyes widened in concern.  “I didn’t know we had an agenda.”

Solomon nodded gravely.  “Oh, yes—an unwritten road trip one.  And the first thing on it is picking some tunes.”

Again, Luke raised his hand.  “I have a suggestion!  I have a suggestion!”  From the pocket of his shorts, he drew out a CD case labeled 1001 Hymns to Praise Him.  “This album is my personal favorite.”

Solomon began coughing violently in attempts to cover his laughter, while Simeon smiled and took the CD from him.  “That’s a great idea, Luke, but how about we play this when I drive, and when Solomon drives, he’ll pick the music.”

The sorcerer handed Simeon his D.D.D, keeping his eyes on the road as he instructed, “Here, go to my Akutify account and play my Travel playlist.  Hope you guys don’t mind that I managed to export my entire Spotify account onto Akutify, so we’re going to be listening to Human World songs for now.”

It took Simeon seven tries to carry out Solomon’s orders, but before long, “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys blared through the state-of-the-art stereo system of the Demonio 666 Lexura.  

Luke was silent for a few moments before he innocently asked, “I don’t understand, Solomon.  What do they want ‘that way?’”

Solomon shook his head.  “I’ve been trying to figure that out for years.”

Hour 2

It didn’t take very long for Simeon to discover the first location on his list of places to visit along their trip.  

“The Maw of Beelzebub,” Simeon breathed, taking in their dark, ashy surroundings from the passenger seat.  “I’ve seen it in pictures when I researched for TSL, but I never fathomed I’d get to see it in person.”

Luke pouted as Simeon exited the vehicle.  “Don’t tell me we’re going to see those dumb demon brothers.”

“Nope,” Solomon said, unbuckling Luke from his seat, despite the vehement protests from the little angel.  “The Maw of Beelzebub is a chain of three volcanoes, actually.  The two smaller ones that form the ‘eyes of Beelzebub’ are active, but the huge, massive one that we’re going to walk across by way of that bridge,” he pointed to a shaky overpass that was suspended over a volcano crater a thousand miles wide, “is dormant.  However, you can still see the enormous pool of lava bubbling inside.  Tourists like to drop things down into it—and of course, it disappears into the molten lava—which is why it’s named after Beel because no matter what you feed him, he’s still hungry as if he’s never eaten.”

“Remind me again, then, why we’re walking across it?”  Luke asked as the trio wandered over to the entrance of the precarious bridge.  

Simeon looked at him curiously.  “Don’t you think it’s exhilarating, Luke?  To be so close to something so much bigger and powerful and dangerous than yourself?”   

The younger angel pondered that for a moment before deciding, “Father is so much bigger and powerful and dangerous than me.  I think that’s enough.”   

Simeon laughed.  “So it is.”  He wiggled his fingers under Luke’s hat to rumple his hair.  “But let’s go see it, anyway.”

 Hour 3

“Psst,” Luke hissed, “Simeon.” The elder angel seemed to be too enthralled by the latest song in Solomon’s playlist, “What Makes You Beautiful” by One Direction, to hear him, so Luke reached out to poke his shoulder.

If he wasn’t strapped to his seat by his seatbelt, Simeon would’ve jumped about fifty feet in surprise.  “Ah, you startled me, Luke.  Did you need something?”

Luke adamantly refused to meet Simeon’s eyes as he flushed and muttered, “I have to go.”

“Don’t worry, Luke—there’s no shame in needing to go to the bathroom,” assured Simeon.

“There is when you just went ten minutes ago,” mumbled Solomon under his breath, but he swerved into a gas station, nonetheless.  “I guess we’re due for a tank refill, anyway.”

Simeon put up his hand.  “You paid for the gas last time—let me do it, especially since Mammon left explicit instructions that his car is supposed to be ‘fed’ premium gas only.” 

Solomon grinned cheekily.  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  He followed Luke, who had already gone into the gas station convenience store.  “I guess I’ll just have a look around, then.”

However, before he got more than a few feet into the store, he heard someone whisper-screaming his name.

“Psst!  Solomon!  Over here!  Behind the candy stand!” 

He followed the voice, only to find that it belonged to Luke, who was very much not in the bathroom and rather ripping open a packet of fruit snacks.

“Whoa, I didn’t know you had it in you to employ the much-loved five-finger-discount,” Solomon said, nodding appreciatively.  “Considering you’re an angel and all.”

Luke stared at him with blank eyes.  “I don’t know what that means, but these were in my pocket from earlier!”  He motioned for Solomon to come closer and poured a few of the gummies into his hand.  “This is my last pouch—eat them fast.  They might be our last bit of yummy food before we have to eat Simeon’s nightmares.”

Solomon bobbed his head, before dumping the fruit snacks into his mouth all at once, savoring their sweet taste.  He gestured toward Luke.  “Do you always keep those on you?”

The angel’s offended gasp could be heard by all the demons in the convenience store.  “I’m a ten-year-old, Solomon!  Of course, I keep fruit snacks in my pocket!”

Hour 4

It wasn’t that Simeon was a bad driver.  It was just that driving in the Devildom (and the Human World) was very different from driving in the Celestial Realm.

Here, in uncontrolled intersections, it wasn’t customary to say “hello” to the drivers rolling to a stop in all directions.  Even stranger, the traffic lights weren’t celestial blue, gold, and white, but rather red, green, and yellow! 

Luke, who had discovered a “2020 Devildom Rules of the Road” manual crumpled inside one of the cupholders, was forced to bark instructions at the eldest angel, all while offering condescending commentary on how imbecilic the rules of driving in the Devildom were.

“Simeon!  Listen to this!  In the Devildom, you have to obey the posted speed limits, or else you’ll get in trouble!” realized Luke.

“Wait—you don’t have speed limits in the Celestial Realm?” Solomon asked.

Luke replied smugly, “No, because angels have the sense to know how fast they should or shouldn’t be driving.”

“Wow, that’s honestly impressive.”  Solomon grimaced as Simeon ran through another red light.  “Remember, if the light is red, then you have to stop.”

Simeon offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m so used to remembering that blue means ‘stop.’”

Solomon slunk low in his seat, knowing better than to rile up the angel, who was rumored to have a feisty side when he got angry.  “I just hope the police or whatever they have here don’t catch us for breaking so many traffic laws.”

“What’s a ‘police?’” asked Luke.

“Oh, you know … people who are supposed to make people follow the laws and stuff,” replied Solomon.  His eyes widened.  “Do you not have a police force in the Celestial Realm?”

“The Celestial Realm is a perfect world, Solomon,” answered Simeon.  “We don’t need police.”

Hour 6

Solomon didn’t know that he could get sick of songs.  Sure, he got tired of the “Despacito” remix after the first dozen times it was played on the radio—but he meant real music.  

“Amazing Grace” in particular.

Luke’s favorite album, 1001 Hymns to Praise Him, really should’ve been called 1001 Ways An Angelic Choir Can Sing “Amazing Grace” because Solomon swore about ninety percent of the songs on the album were just renditions of the classic hymn sung by different groups of angels.

And this seemed to bother neither of his driving companions, who crooned along to the choir in heavenly tones—it seemed to be a prerequisite for angels to be divine singers—without missing a beat.  

He hadn’t even known all the words to “Amazing Grace,” but now he could recite all six verses on demand.  He fought the urge to smash the “eject” button on the CD player, but he worried that Luke would throw a fit or Simeon would look at him with a stare so full of disappointment that Solomon would be willing to throw himself off a bridge just to rid himself of its gaze.

But one could only hear the line “amazing grace, how sweet the sound,” so many times.

He had to do something.

“Hey!  I have an idea!” Solomon chirped.  “Let’s make up our own song!”

He had to fight the urge to smack himself upside the head.  Why did he say that?  He had no ideas for potential song lyrics!

“I like that!” Luke pursed his lips, deep in thought.  “Here, let’s have the first lines go like this: ‘Father, You are all that I need!’”

Simeon used one hand to snap out the beat, and continued, “‘Father, listen to my creed!’”

Solomon sighed.

He did not know if this was any better.

Hour 8

“Luke, wake up.  We’re here.”  Solomon couldn’t help but layer on the desperation thick as he shook the younger angel awake, despite the fact that they were in no danger whatsoever.

Luke shot up, trying very hard to hide the fact that he had been drooling all over his shoulder.  He rubbed his sleep-filled eyes. “What?  Did we beat all the other demons here?  Are the Caverns of Degeneracy as hideous as I imagined?”

Solomon unbuckled Luke’s seatbelt and dragged him out of the car.  He snickered, saying, “We’re not at the Caverns, yet.”  He gestured toward their surroundings, which now consisted of precarious cliffs and rocky crags instead of the open road of the Devildom. 

Simeon stood a few feet ahead of them and turned around, spreading his arms wide in wonder.  “Welcome to Sinner Falls!”

Luke stared at the dark stone formations.  “I don’t see any waterfalls.”

“That’s because Sinner Falls isn’t a waterfall,” Solomon explained.  “You probably better know it as ‘the Abyss—’”

“‘The Abyss? ’  Why didn’t you say so?”  Luke exclaimed, his eyes glittering excitedly.  “The place where demons are tortured for a thousand years during the Millenium has always been one of my dream places to visit!”

Simeon smiled, a little taken aback by the younger angel’s enthusiasm.  “If we’re lucky, we might get to see Abaddon, Angel of the Abyss. He’s supposed to be guarding the canyon up ahead.”

“If we see him, do you think he’ll let me call him ‘Abba?’” teased Solomon, even though the remark earned him a kick in the shin and a “He most certainly will not!  How dare you even say such a thing about one of the most high-ranking angels!” from Luke.

“Careful now, Solomon,” Simeon warned, as the trio walked toward the deep canyon amongst the cliffs.  As far as anyone could tell, there was no end to the inky, suffocating blackness that was visible when looking down into it.  He pointed into the canyon.  “This is the Abyss—er, Sinner Falls.  Us angels cannot pass this invisible barrier—” he pressed his hand out to the ledge of the canyon, only for it to smash against some kind of unseen wall, “—but any human or demon who falls down into it falls for eternity, never to come back to the surface.”

Luke beamed. “That must be why it’s called ‘Sinner Falls!’  Because most humans and all demons are sinners!”  Despite this, he grabbed Solomon’s hand to prevent him from wandering too close to Sinner Falls’ ledge (as he was wont to do), because, despite their bickering and mutual pestering, Luke had a soft spot for the sorcerer.

Simeon followed in suit and intertwined his fingers with Solomon as the trio looked down into the great Abyss, wondering if any of their demon friends would be among the many thrown into it one day.

Hour 9

Simeon rifled through his messenger bag, intent on looking for something to eat.  He had made sure to pack plenty of goodies and was pleased as to how nutritious the snacks he’d made had turned out.  He scooped a handful of edamame and chickpea trail mix into his hand and turned to Luke, who was hunched over a map in the back passenger seat. 

“You haven’t eaten anything in over eight hours; aren’t you hungry?”  Simeon offered him the bag of trail mix.

Luke gulped, as he beamed and shook his head.  “N—no, no!  I’m okay!”

Simeon shrugged and held out the bag toward Solomon, who was driving.  “Do you want some?  I can pour it into your mouth if you want, so you don’t have to take your eyes off the road.”

“As titillating as that sounds,” said the sorcerer, “I’m afraid I’m not hungry at the moment.”

“I guess that’s more for me, then.”  Simeon poured more of the trail mix into his palm, but before he could eat any of it, he heard a strange sound.

It was a low rumble, but very, very loud.

It almost sounded like … stomachs growling?

He whirled to face Luke and Solomon and scratched his head in confusion.  “Are you two sure you’re not hungry?”

When the pair shook their heads furiously, Simeon raised an eyebrow.  He yanked out from his bag the stuffed dried dates and the oatmeal-honey-sesame-black-bean balls.  “So … you two wouldn’t mind if I ate all of the snacks?”

“Yeah, sure, go nuts, Simeon,” Solomon assured.  He winced as his and Luke’s stomaches rumbled in unison.  “You wouldn’t actually have any nuts in that bag o’ treats, would you?  Preferably of the chocolate-covered variety?” 

“The dates have almond butter stuffed inside them,” pointed out Luke helpfully, although his expression was less-than-enthused.

Simeon raised his other eyebrow.  Clearly the pair were hungry but refusing food.  What kind of rebellious spirit had gotten into them?  Didn’t they know that food was essential to oh, survival?   His left eye twitched as he felt a black miasma of rage cover him. “If you two don’t eat, I’m turning this car around.  That’s a promise.”

Solomon exchanged nervous glances with Luke at the normally calm angel’s outburst. “Angry Simeon is scary,” he whimpered.

“If you don’t eat, you’ll see just how scary I can be,” promised Simeon with a smile that bordered downright terrifying.  He plopped an oatmeal-honey-sesame-black-bean ball into Solomon’s mouth and handed a stuffed date to Luke.  “Now, eat your snacks.”

He definitely didn’t miss Luke’s grumpy, “Yes, mother.”

Hour 11

“Solomon, I hate to complain—” which earned a snort from the sorcerer, as Luke continued, “but do you really have to play that now?”  He gestured toward the sound system, which, now that it was Simeon’s turn to drive, blared 1001 Hymns to Praise Him.  “Seven Lyres is my favorite orchestra and their take on ‘Amazing Grace’ is simply the best!”

Solomon, who had purposely pulled out a reed pipe from his backpack in an effort to drown out the nine thousandth chorus of “Amazing Grace,” sighed and put it down.  He knew he wasn’t an expert in playing the reed pipe—in fact, this was the first time he’d ever seen the instrument, but the racket was so soothing.

“Where did you even get that from, anyway?” asked Simeon.

“Found it in my backpack.  I didn’t pack it, but considering there was a note attached to it that said ‘Blow,’ I think Asmo put it there as some kind of visual innuendo.”  Solomon shrugged.  “Now seemed like as good a time as any to play it.”

 Luke tapped his chin thoughtfully.  “What’s an ‘innuendo?’”

“Something you’re not allowed to make until you’re much older,” replied Simeon sternly. 

Luke seemed satisfied with the answer and held out his palm toward Solomon.  “May I try?”

Solomon handed the reed pipe over and cocked his head.  “You know how to play?”

He received his answer when Luke gestured for him to lower the stereo volume (which Solomon did with immense pleasure) and began to carefully place his fingers over the openings and gently blow into the instrument.

The young angel played masterfully and Solomon would’ve given him a standing ovation if it weren’t for one tiny thing.

“Why don’t you play a different song besides ‘Amazing Grace?’”  he suggested.

Luke furrowed his brows.  “It’s the only thing I know how to play!”

Hour 12

“I don’t like this place, Simeon,” Luke mumbled, yanking his hat over his eyes.  “It looks like something straight from the End Times.”

He, of course, was referring to the town at which’s city limits they stood in front of.  It was one of the last tourist spots that Simeon had wanted to visit, and it was renowned for being one of the Devildom’s most haunted ghost towns.

Solomon nodded.  “I’m with the Chihuahua.  I’m super excited for the end of the world, and even I’m not getting a good feeling from whatever-this-place-is-called.”

“Deathblow Beggar’s Pass,” answered Simeon, ogling the city entrance sign gleefully.  “They say it’s the most haunted district in all of the Devildom.”  He took a step onto the creaky wooden path that led into the town.  “It’s been evacuated for centuries and now, even most demons are petrified to go inside.”

Luke gripped Simeon’s cape so tight, his knuckles turned white.  “Then why do you want to visit this place?”

“Don’t worry, Luke,” the older angel said (avoiding the question, which the young angel noticed), laughing, as he tousled Luke’s hair under his hat.  “I’ll make sure none of the scary ghosts come near you.”

Luke’s eyes widened.  “Sc—scary ghosts?”  He cleared his throat when he realized how incredibly uncourageous he sounded.  “I—I mean I’m not scared of any g—g—ghosts!”

Solomon and Simeon shared a secret smile at the angel’s feigned bravery, and instead of teasing him, Solomon turned to Luke very seriously.  “I strictly deal with demons, not ghosts.  How about you do me a favor and sit on my shoulders to be my lookout in case any of those ghosts try to pull anything?”

“W—well if you need my help, I’m definitely willing to offer it!” Luke blushed as he climbed onto Solomon’s shoulders.  “It’s my duty as an angel to help humans, after all!”

“That’s the ‘spirit,’” Solomon said.  He laughed when he saw the angels’ unamused faces.  “Get it?  ‘Cause we’re walking into a ghost town?”

Simeon laughed stiffly as to not hurt the sorcerer’s feelings before straightening his posture and looking ahead.  He channeled his inner fantasy writer as he declared, “Get ready, everyone!  We must put aside our doubts and fears as we charge forward into Deathblow Beggar’s Pass, where no creature has exited without releasing screams that could curdle the blood of the Demon Lord!  We might not be of this world, but we certainly can brave its most terrifying sites!”

It would have been a very heroic speech if it weren’t for the fact that not five minutes after the trio entered the city limits, Solomon and Simeon sprinted out, with Luke wailing loudly.

“That was the worst ever!” the little angel blubbered, yanking Solomon’s hair.

The sorcerer didn’t even have enough energy to flinch as he panted, “What in the name of all things unholy was that?”

There was nothing but fear in Simeon’s eyes as he doubled over, trying to catch his breath.  “We should’ve known the saloon bathroom stalls wouldn’t be empty.”  He gagged.  “I never want to see millennia-old demon penis again.”

Hour 15

“Simeon, are we there yet ?” asked Luke for the twenty-first time in the hour.

The other angel sighed.  “Almost, Luke.  Just a few more minutes.”

“Don’t you have the map?” Solomon pointed out as he honked the horn in irritation at a slow driver ahead of him.  “Shouldn’t you know where we are?”

Luke fussed with the multitude of papers that were stacked on his lap.  “I only have the stuff for Simeon’s places.”  His eyes opened wide in realization.  “Wait—how do you guys know where to drive if my maps don’t lead to the Caverns of Degeneracy?” 

“Diavolo said as long as we travel along Route 666 until we see the sign markers, we should have no problem getting there,” explained Simeon.  He peered ahead and squinted at one of the upcoming signs.  “And look—that sign says that the Caverns of Degeneracy are ten miles up ahead.”

“I hope we’re the first ones there,” said Luke.  “It’ll be nice to see all the looks on those dumb demons’ faces when we get there before them.”

Solomon pursed his lips.  “Speaking of those ‘dumb demons,’ I wonder if they’re all right.  We haven’t heard from them since we left Purgatory Hall.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Simeon assured.  He let out a laugh as he continued, “Assuming they haven’t killed each other already.  It must be hard having all seven of them cooped up in one small space.”

“We can only hope,” said Luke solemnly.  He paused for a moment as he shimmied as far as his seatbelt would allow him and peered over Solomon’s shoulder to look at what was going on in the front seats.  He pointed at the gear shift. “What does ‘D’ mean?”

“I’m not supposed to say that word in front of you,” answered Solomon as Simeon simultaneously replied, “Drive.”

“Oh.  What does ‘R’ mean, then?”

Simeon replied, “Reverse,” before Solomon could say anything.

At the elder angel’s preemptive glare, Solomon widened his eyes and innocently said, “I was going to say ‘reverse,’ as in ‘Uno Reverse Card.’’”

Luke turned toward the dashboard.  “What’s ‘E?’”

“I feel if I say ‘Evanescence,’ Simeon is going to yell at me, so I’ll just go with ‘empty,’” pouted Solomon.  

“Empty what?”

“Gas.”

“So … since that line-thingy is almost at ‘E,’ that means we’re nearly out of gas?”  

“Yep.”

Simeon turned around to cover Luke’s ears at Solomon’s next sentence: “Holy shit—we’re almost out of gas!”

The older angel’s eyes promised murder as he stared at the sorcerer, before directing his stare to the fuel gauge.  “We’re running on fumes.”

“We need to refuel, stat.  Simeon, grab my D.D.D and look up the nearest gas station,” directed Solomon.  “I always forget that Mammon’s car is a gas-guzzler.” 

“What should I do, Solomon?” asked Luke, eagerly awaiting orders like a baby soldier.

The sorcerer nodded, deadly serious.  “Sit there and be cute.”

Luke pouted as Simeon—with surprising speed—brought up a log of the nearest gas stations on Solomon’s D.D.D.  “There should be a station three miles ahead.”

Solomon frowned as he analyzed their fuel gauge.  “I’m not sure we’ll make it.”

“We have to!” cried Luke.  “How will we ever beat those demons if we don’t even make it to the Caverns of Degeneracy?”  

“We’ll have to trust that Mammon’s baby is strong enough to get us to the gas station, then.”  Solomon stroked the dashboard as if trying to offer the vehicle some kind of encouragement.  

And as the car’s fuel began to peter out, Simeon and Luke began to cheer in chorus, “You can do it, Mammon’s car!” while Solomon exclaimed, “You’re a fierce, strong woman who doesn’t need any man to tell you that your fuel gauge is empty!”  

After an eternity (okay, it was more like five minutes), the Demonio 666 Lexura finally eked it’s way to the first pump at a Demobil gas station. 

As the engine sputtered out, the trio let out a cheer, and Solomon and Simeon shared a hug in the front seat.

“Thank Father we made it!” exclaimed Luke as he unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the car.  He pat Mammon’s car.  “Also, thank you for getting us here, even if you belong to the scummiest demon in the Devildom.”

Solomon grinned and turned to Simeon.  “You spotted the gas bill last time, so I’ll do it now.”

“Are you sure?” asked Simeon.  “My TSL royalties are huge, even after I’ve tithed my ten percent.  I’ve got no problem paying.”

“Nah, it’s fine—you can go stretch your legs.” With that, Solomon exited the car and began to work the gas pump.

Simeon nodded and together with Luke, walked toward the attached Demobil convenience store.  By the entrance stood a higher-level demon, who appeared to be selling bouquets of fresh flowers.

The vendor, who had noticed the pair exit Mammon’s car and had seen Solomon get up to pump the gas, called to Simeon, “Flower for your Mister?”  He gestured toward the white-haired sorcerer. 

Luke gasped, absolutely scandalized, and huffed, “Simeon would never settle for a human!” while Simeon chuckled, replying, “I’m sorry, he’s not my ‘Mister,’ but I’ll take a bouquet, anyway.”

After exchanging Grimm for the flowers, Simeon and Luke strolled back to the Demonio 666 Lexura, where Solomon was just closing the fuel tank. 

“Simeon bought you flowers!” announced Luke.

The angel nodded as he handed the sunny bouquet to Solomon.  “It matches your wand.”

“How did you know gerberas are my favorite?” laughed Solomon.  “These are great—thank you.”  As they all piled back into the car, he carefully arranged the flowers in one of the cupholders and beamed, because God,  sometimes the angel was so nice. 

The group drove in silence for a few moments before Luke commented, “I didn’t know gerberas smelled like … salt?”

Simeon sniffed the air.  “I think that’s the sea.  After all, the Caverns of Degeneracy are right along the beach.”

Just as the angel spoke the words, Solomon pulled right into a parking lot that was situated right next to miles and miles of black sand.  

Luke cheered, kicking his feet at Solomon’s seat excitedly.  “Yay!  We’re here!”

Their road trip had finally come to an end.

Destination

After wandering the beach for a few moments, the trio eventually found themselves at the mouth of the Caverns of Degeneracy, which turned out to be several huge caves filled with glowing pastel stalactites and stalagmites.  Hellfireflies twinkled in the air, while friendly gentlemanbugs strolled about the cavern floor.  Some kind of glittering pink moss had been used to adorn the walls with the words, “R.A.D Bleeding Hearts Festival 2020.”

In the middle of it all stood Diavolo, who was discussing the festival decorations with Barbatos.

As soon as he saw the Demon Prince, Luke raced up and, bobbing uncontrollably, asked, “Are we first?  Are we first?” 

Diavolo let out a hearty laugh.  “Welcome you three!  And first for what, Luke?”

Solomon sauntered up and answered, “To arrive.”

“Luke’s been very anxious to know if we’re the first ones here at the festival,” elaborated Simeon, placing his hand on the younger angel’s shoulder.

“You make it seem like it was a competition to get here first—which, yes, you three are,” said Diavolo.  His eyes lit up.  “That’s an excellent idea, though!  Next year, we’ll make the R.A.D C.D a contest to see can make it to the Caverns the fastest!  First place will get a coupon for teatime with me!”

Luke wrinkled his nose.  “Teatime with you?  That sounds—”

“Incredibly fun,” cut in Simeon smoothly.  He turned to Diavolo.  “Have you gotten any word from those seven demon brothers?”

Diavolo grimaced.  “It seems that they’ll be late.  Beelzebub ate all their road trip snacks immediately as he entered Asmodeus’ tour bus, so they had to stop for food at every fast food restaurant they could find because he still wasn’t satisfied, Belphegor kept falling asleep at the wheel, and Mammon got so many speeding violations and every time the police showed up, Asmodeus tried to seduce his way out of their ticket, which only earned them more fines and lectures from Lucifer.  It’s comic-con season, so of course, Leviathan had to stop at every convention center along the way, and unsurprisingly, Satan’s road rage forced him to get into out-of-car fights with every driver he encountered when he was at the wheel.”  He sighed.  “They managed to turn a fifteen-hour trip into a twenty-two hour one.”

Solomon smiled as he said, “I guess we should’ve expected that.”  His grin grew even wider as he gestured toward his traveling companions.  “Meanwhile, we did all fifteen-hours of driving—courtesy of me bending the speeding rules quite a bit when there was no traffic— and saw some of the sights of the Devildom along the way.”

“Oooh, did you manage to get any pictures?” asked Diavolo with an excited gleam in his eye.  “I always want to travel around the Devildom but never get the chance.”

Simeon nodded as he pulled out from his messenger bag some of the pictures he had asked fellow tourists to snap with his instant camera.  He handed them one by one to Diavolo and beamed at the goofy scenes.

The first one was from when they stopped at the Maw of Beelzebub: Solomon teasingly dangled Luke’s hat over the bridge’s railing while the young angel cried and stomped on the sorcerer’s foot in retaliation.  Simeon, meanwhile, tried to rescue Luke’s hat.

The second photo showcased Solomon sitting at the ledge of Sinner Falls with his feet swinging over the bottomless canyon.  Luke and Simeon posed obnoxiously as if they were going to fall into the Abyss, even though as angels, they were unable to.  

The final picture was the only one he had from Deathblow Beggar’s Pass, and it was of the trio crouched in front of the sign that spelled “Enjoy your stay at Deathblow Beggar’s Pass!”

Diavolo examined the images wistfully.  He sighed as he handed the photos back to Simeon.  “You three looked as if you made some fun memories.”

The angels and the sorcerer exchanged contented glances and chorused, “We most certainly did.”

[nekoabiwrites]

On the (b)Rink of Love

Another @thesquirtlesquadwrites prompt fill! We went with: Ice skating and them BOTH BEING REALLY GOOD ACTUALLY.

I have to thank @cloverlyanxious for the title. She is wonderful and very smart.

The rest of the fics are on the masterlist here: https://thesquirtlesquadwrites.tumblr.com/post/189798607711/prompt-ice-skating-and-them-both-being-really

AU: Human AU Pairing: Prinxiety/Logicality/Demus Words: 4001 Warnings: Remus and Deceit mentions. Anything else, please let me know!

Summary: Roman is meeting his friends for their yearly trip around the christmas market, but this year, he is going to impress his crush and win him over once and for all.

---

Roman pulled his jacket tighter around himself, shivering slightly. It was a cold morning in early December, and he was already out of his house. As he wandered down to the village market to meet up with his friends, he lamented over the time he could be spending still wrapped up in the covers of his warm bed. But it was the day that they were all to do their yearly wander around the Christmas market and Roman had picked the day himself. This year, things were going to be substantially more interesting.

An outdoor ice-skating rink had been set up in the centre of the plaza for the first time and it had been the main focus of the marketing. Patton, as soon as he saw it, was extremely excited to go and try it out. He’d begged and pleaded to all of his friends in order to get them to agree to join him when they visited, and everyone knew that Patton’s puppy-dog eyes could break even the most stoic of men. Roman snorted slightly at the thought.

He approached the end of the high street, seeing Patton wrapped up in his thick, baby blue winter coat as he waited for their group to show up. Roman was in the process of calling out to him when the shorter of them noticed him and waved frantically. A grin spread across both of their faces.

“Good morning, Patton.” Roman greeted once he was close enough to be heard.

“Hi Roman! How are you doing?”

“I feel like I might freeze to death. I swear it wasn’t this cold yesterday, right?”

“I’m so toasty and warm! Look at these, my grandma made them for me! They match my coat!” Patton bounced on his toes a little, showing off the knitted gloves that covered his palms.

Roman chuckled and went to make a comment, but a sleepy grunt interrupted him. Both turned to see another joining them and Roman immediately felt himself warm up just a tad.

Virgil was standing behind Patton, his hair still a mess from sleeping. His double layered jackets were clearly doing the bulk of the job of keeping him warm as his thin converse and ripped jeans were definitely not helping that much. He dropped his head onto Patton’s shoulder, mumbling, “Mornin’.”

Patton reached up to pat Virgil’s head softly, giggling, “You still tired, kiddo?” The emo nodded, refusing to pick his head up from his friend’s shoulder.

Envy dripped through Roman’s system. He knew wholeheartedly that Patton didn’t have eyes for Virgil, at least not romantically, but he still wanted to be the one Virgil was resting against. He pushed that thought away, however. It didn’t matter. Roman would show off today and Virgil would just be so impressed. He would shyly ask for Roman’s help, as he was not used to being on the ice and Roman would graciously agree to assist him. He would hold Virgil’s hands tightly, skating backwards in order to help the emo get a feel for skating. Someone would skate past them at some point and Virgil would lose his balance, falling against Roman’s chest and into Roman’s waiting arms. Virgil would be blushing, looking absolutely gorgeous as ever, staring up at Roman. Roman would reassure him, the pull would be magnetic. Ever so slowly, stood on the ice, they would lean in and k-

“Roman?”

“Huh?!” He was rudely awoken from his thoughts by Patton’s voice.

“You okay there?” Patton was peering up at Roman through his large round glasses, eyes full of concern. Virgil was also staring at him with a questioning look, his head now up as he rested his chin on Patton’s shoulder in favour of his entire face.

Roman laughed loudly. A little too loudly to be real, but he ran with it, “Of course I am! I was just lost in my ideas again.” He confidently grinned at his friends, hoping it would quell their concerns.

Both of them shared a look before shrugging. Patton’s smile returned to his face while Virgil still looked suspicious of Roman, “Okay, Ro. Just try not to do that out on the ice, yeah? It won’t be good if you go crashing into people, y’know?” Patton giggled again, playfully scolding Roman, who rolled his eyes good naturedly with a teasing groan.

“Okay, okay. Whatever you say, Dad!” The comment sent Patton into a full-on giggle fit. Roman watched with pride as Patton clutched his stomach, laughter bubbling up through him. He was practically forced to notice Virgil as he moved to lean against the brick wall behind Patton, as the other hunched over in an attempt to control his laughter. Roman was suddenly lost in how Virgil could just be so… pretty in such an effortless way.

The emo was standing on only one leg now, the other bent so he could rest his foot up against the same wall his back was against. His hair, though still messy, was hanging just perfectly around his face, framing his features in such a way that it just made every tiny detail stand out in Roman’s eyes – especially his dark eyes underlined by the black eyeshadow. Virgil was looking away from his friends, watching down the street for their final member, though it was clear he was still paying attention as his lips were turned up just slightly at the corners at Patton’s infectious laughter. Roman almost wished that Virgil’s hands weren’t shoved deep into his hoodie pockets because they were something that Roman fixated on a lot. They were thin and lithe, perfect for the precision detailing that Virgil was good at, yet they were insanely warm – Roman still was yet to forget about the time when Virgil handed him a book and their fingers brushed.

He imagined himself walking over to Virgil, standing in front of him and gently taking his hands from his pockets and holding them as though they were made of perfect porcelain that could break from the wrong touch. Roman would lightly run his thumbs over the soft skin, revelling in the warmth. He’d stare into Virgil’s eyes, conveying every ounce of affection he could, before stepping closer, crowing the emo further against the wall. Things would become a little more intense. Virgil would snark and provoke Roman into action, contradicting the gentle blush that was joining the pink tinge already caused by the cold. It would eventually end up with Virgil giving Roman the okay to kiss him under the guise of a challenge. Roman wouldn’t be able to back down and he wouldn’t have much self-restraint if any as he leaned in and captured Virgil’s lips. It would heat up quickly, getting heavier in no time at all. Still holding tightly to his hands, Roman would pin them above Virgil as they continued to make out heavily. It would cause Virgil to g-

“-ring at me again, Ro.” A hand waved in front of Roman’s face, pulling him out of yet another wonderful fantasy.

“Uh, what?”

Virgil, whose hand had been the one to swing in front of him, snorted and rolled his eyes, “I said, you were staring at me again, Princey. What’s up with you?”

“I already said, there’s nothing wrong with me, Virgil.”

“Suuuure.” Virgil rolled his head back a little, “That’s why you’ve zoned out twice already today.”

Roman flushed in embarrassment and straightened out his back, “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Besides, it’s… still early. I’m just a smidge tired, alright?”

Virgil snorted again, “Sure, whatever. Come on, Patton’s already gone to the ice-skating place. Apparently, Logan’s waiting there for us instead of coming to the actual meeting place…” He began to head into the market, not even waiting to see if Roman would follow him.

This meant that the taller had to carefully jog to catch up to his friend. “H-Hey! Wait up!” Roman refused to drop the topic and began to argue good-naturedly with Virgil on their short trip over to the ice rink. They were so wrapped up in their argument that they didn’t even realise that they’d reached their destination until a long-suffering sigh caught their attention.

“I could hear you for a mile. Must you both always be at each other’s throats?”

Roman pouted and cocked his hip, putting his hands on them as well, “We’re not always at each other’s throats, Logan.”

“I’m sure you’d like to be…” Logan muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Roman to hear, which also caused him to splutter like a dying fish.

Virgil raised an eyebrow, “I have no idea what you just said… but I don’t know if I want to…” The emo warily eyed the extremely red Roman, who’s face had turned a similar colour to his jacket.

“That is likely for the best. I mean, I doubt Roman would like if you-”

“I got us the tickets!” Patton ran out of the wooden building, effectively ending the conversation right there. He passed out the tickets to each of his friends before leading dragging them in the direction of the entrance.

As they’d gotten to the market pretty much right after it had opened, the ice rink was still nice and quiet. There was only a short line for them to wait in to get their skates, as well as a lot of space for them to change into them. All of them had no issues getting their skates on. Well, all excluding Patton who was having a hard time getting the final buckle of his to snap shut.

“Logaaaaaan.” Patton whined, pouting sadly up at the nerd, who was fighting not to show a visible blush on his cheeks. With a subtle clearing of his throat, Logan was down in front of Patton, tightening up the straps so that they weren’t going to slip off his feet.

Virgil jabbed Roman in the side harshly, causing Roman to almost topple over. “We should probably leave them alone.” The emo ignored Roman’s glare in favour of glancing towards their other friends, who were clearly lost in their own little world. Wordlessly, Roman agreed and the two of them headed out.

It was a fairly small space for them to skate around on. Currently, a couple of families were out on the ice and holding onto their little ones as they went around slowly in circles. A few people seemed to be on their own, all of them looking like decent enough skaters, but nothing all that special. Roman internally preened as he remembered that he had been ice skating for years as a child, because his twin wanted to play ice hockey and his parents didn’t have the time to watch him and his brother at different locations. This meant they’d both been enrolled in classes together and now, finally, all that skating was going to pay off.

Roman was standing just by the gate onto the artificial ice when a loud, fake gasp sounded and he internally cringed. ‘Great…’ He turned and glared at the source of the noise. “And what are you doing here?”

“We came to skate, of course!” His twin grinned widely at him, arm linked with his boyfriend’s as he helped him towards the ice. “What better way to spend the day than here, right?” Remus blinked rapidly, in some effort to seem innocent. “It’s just so… romantic.”

It didn’t do him any favours. Roman’s face darkened and he hissed under his breath as Remus passed by him, “Whatever you thinking of doing, don’t.” Remus simply smiled again and stepped onto the ice, holding his boyfriend’s free hand as he grasped onto the edge. Roman called out to his back, “And stop listening in on me!”

“Woah… what was that about?” Virgil asked, coming to stand next to Roman, his arm resting casually on his friend’s shoulder.

Roman groaned and dragged a hand down his face, “My brother clearly was eavesdropping again. Why else would he be here right now? At the same time as us?! Ugh!” Roman huffed angrily. It didn’t help that Virgil being so close was distracting him at the same time. “Whatever.” He rolled his neck to release some tension, “I’m getting out on the ice.”

With that, he was off. The moment his skate blade made contact with the fake ice, Roman felt far better. He let his body run on muscle memory as he began a quick warm up lap of the ice rink, revelling in the cool air fanning across his face and running through his hair as he moved. There was something freeing about doing this after a few years of being off the ice. After a couple of gentle laps, Roman had perked up significantly and decided it was time to start showing off a little. Being wary of the small children around, Roman began to pick up speed and started to race around the oval shaped rink, his confidence rushing through him as he saw the awe on the kids’ faces as he passed by. In the centre, far away from where anyone was currently skating, Roman did some basic figure skating tricks – at least, the ones he could easily contain to a small space to stop him from accidentally slashing someone and in the cheap skates he was currently wearing. He’d been so involved with himself that he’d barely noticed Patton and Logan entering the rink, though he grinned at the pair when he saw them, blowing them both a dramatic kiss and wave.

Roman stopped on a dime all of a sudden and started looking around. He was looking for his fourth friend, for Virgil. All of this showing off was ultimately to impress him anyway, so what was the point if he didn’t know where the emo was.

When he did see him, Roman’s mouth fell open.

Virgil was casually skating backwards, looking as though he had no cares at all. His eyes did seem to be trained on Roman though as – once the pair made eye contact – Virgil smirked and held up both his middle fingers at his friend.

Rage poured into Roman’s body, causing him to stand straighter once more. Virgil’s smirk changed into a grin and he turned back around, skating normally now in order to get away as quick as he could.

“So that’s how it is, huh?” Roman said to himself before skating after his crush.

The two began to practically race. They circled around and around so many times, Virgil always being just that little bit ahead of Roman. A few times, he stopped and turned sharply in an attempt to dodge around his oncoming friend, but Roman was always back on his tail fairly quickly. It was exhilarating; the speed of it all and the amount of fun the two were having. In fact, they both were lost in their own world for a bit.

They’d raced past Patton, who was being helped by Logan to learn how to move away from the wall for the first time and caused their short friend to wobble. He fell right onto Logan, who almost lost his own footing, but was able to get them both off to the side again. They’d also shot right past Remus, who’d looked to be considering joining the chase, but his boyfriend held his hand with an iron grip.

“Don’t.” He’d warned, sternly looking up at Remus, who looked slightly conflicted.

Ultimately, Remus shrugged and turned to his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around the other’s middle and squeezing him tightly, “Anything for you, Dee!”

Roman and Virgil seemed to show no sign of stopping. At least until Roman managed to get a hold of Virgil, who’d slowed a little as he started to run out of steam. They went soaring past people still, Roman’s arms wrapped around Virgil’s waist as he attempted to free himself. After finally getting Virgil to admit defeat, Roman let him go and the two skated leisurely to catch their breath until they caught up to Logan and Patton, who were simply standing on the ice by the side.

“Hey, why aren’t you two skating?” Roman asked upon approach. Logan’s head had immediately shot up and flushed a dark pink, whilst Patton awkwardly spun on the spot to look up at his friend, his own cheeks tinged with a blush. The shorter wobbled slightly as he wasn’t used to such harsh movement on uneven footing, but he didn’t go down as Roman noticed that Logan’s arm was currently wrapped around Patton’s waist, holding him up.

“You guys alright? You seem a little… red…” Virgil asked, coming to a slow stop to the outside of his friend group. He scrutinised the two before noticing something that had his eyes widening and a playful grin slowly growing on his lips. Before he even had the chance to say anything, Logan’s hand came up to cut him off.

“Virgil. Now is not the time for remarks.”

“Oh, come on, Logan. The time for remarks is all the time, you know that.” Virgil teased. Logan’s head fell into his hands as his blush grew deeper. Patton’s own dusting of pink was starting to become more visible and so Virgil pushed on just a little more, “So, what’s the situation now? Is it official yet?”

“Virgil!”

“What?” He shrugged, “I’m just asking.”

“Official…? OH!” Roman finally caught up. He laughed and clapped a hand on Patton’s shoulder, “Well, it’s about time, you two!”

Patton and Logan shared a bashful glance before smiling softly at each other and their two friends. For the remaining time the four had on the ice, they all spent it together. Logan and Patton were interrogated as to what happened, but both were staying quiet. At least until Roman took Patton’s hands and dragged him around the ice at his request, so he could have the experience of going faster. Now, in one-on-one situations, both of them let slip how their time had passed on the ice. Virgil avoided Logan’s gaze and focused on the lines on the ice when he heard how it was technically his and Roman’s fault for getting them together.

“Don’t feel sorry, Virgil. This is a good thing.” Logan calmly reassured his friend, “But I must ask, how about you and Roman?”

“What about me and Roman?”

“Aren’t you two pining after each other? I thought it was obvious, quite honestly. I’m surprised Roman hasn’t realised it himself.” Logan shook his head, watching as Patton and Roman passed them once more. It took a few moments for Logan to realise he’d been skating alone. He turned to see Virgil standing still a little ways back. “Virgil? Are you okay?” Logan asked, approaching him once more.

“Uh, yeah… You… you’re sure that… Roman… y’know?” Virgil vaguely gestured with his hands, trying to get his point across without having to say the words out loud.

“That he… what?”

“That he… um, well, like… likes me? Like… like that?”

Logan couldn’t help but burst out laughing, something that rarely happened. Virgil blushed darkly and his entire body stiffened. “What?! What’s so funny about that?!”

“Oh. Oh, Virgil. It’s… it’s just that,” Logan interrupted himself with another short bout of laughter, “it’s so extremely obvious.”

“Wh-wha-how!?”

Logan wiped a tear from his eyes, still struggling for control over his persistent giggles, “Virgil. You and I both know that Roman tends to get lost in his imagination around you, usually staring in your direction.” The two started skating again, taking their time. “He also tends to get embarrassed if you are the one to call him up on it and refuses to elaborate on his daydreams, while he has no issues telling myself or Patton if we catch him in such a state. Is that not evidence enough to prove something?”

“I guess…”

“Virgil. If you trust my judgement, then you’ll trust me here too.”

The emo hummed in thought, his cheeks still tingling with the deep blush. He skated a little in front of Logan and turned in order to skate backwards once more, “But what if he doesn’t? What if it’s just coincidence?”

“I can assure you that it is not.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed and he stopped Logan, “You know more than you’re telling me, Lo.” The taller simply shrugged and shook his head, clearly unwilling to share more. Virgil huffed and was about to demand more, but they were joined by the other half of their group.

“Virgil! Logan! Our time is almost up! I want to do another lap with you guys!” Patton called out as the two approached. He latched onto Logan’s arm in order to stop himself from flying further along the ice, which had the secondary effect of making the nerd extremely flustered.

The group finished their final lap and made their way off of the ice. The skates were returned and all of them felt a little odd now standing on normal ground once more. Patton and Logan had left their two friends at a bench just across from the ice rink as they went to go and get drinks for them all. The silence over Virgil and Roman was heavy and odd. It felt far too tense and Virgil’s nerves were all over the place. He steadied himself and went to speak.

“Hey, so-”

Both of them spoke at the same moment. Then they laughed awkwardly.

“You first.” Roman offered. Virgil shook his head tightly and Roman took the hint. He casually leant against the bench’s back, “I just wanted to ask… where did you learn to skate like that?”

“Oh, its just something I liked doing when I was a kid. My parents did it and would take me and my sisters along. It was just… fun, I guess? I actually sorta forgot how much I liked it…” Virgil relaxed a little, “How about you? I didn’t know you could figure skate or whatever.”

Roman flicked his head, moving his hair back into place without his hand, “Remus wanted to do hockey when he was younger and – us being twins and all – I was forced along. I also found it fun. I suppose that is something we have in common.”

The two shared a gentle laugh before falling back into the slightly awkward silence.

“May- maybe it’s not the only thing?” Virgil’s voice was higher than usual and very quiet. If Roman had not been so intensely focused on him, he would have missed it.

“Oh? What else is there?” Roman asked gently.

Virgil played with his fingers, twisting them together and wringing his hands anxiously, “Um, well… maybe… we both, y’know, kinda… like… each other?” Virgil’s already higher voice pitched up again at the end.

Roman was suddenly walking on air. He turned so his body was angled more towards the anxious man beside him. “I mean, of course I like you, Virgil. We are friends after all… but, if you mean more than that, then I supposed we might have that in common as well… but that depends on you.” Gently, Roman coaxed Virgil to look at him, “Virgil, do you like me? Because I sure as hell like you.”

All of a sudden, Roman was unable to speak. Virgil had practically flung himself onto him, kissing him harshly, as if his life depended on it. It took only a few seconds for Roman to truly catch up and relax, kissing Virgil back. ‘Finally!’ was his only thought. Time had no meaning, nothing else existed but them and the bench. At least, until…

“Oh my gosh!” Patton squeaked to their side.

Virgil darted away as if he’d been burned, his face blooming red, while Roman turned to see the other couple approaching with four takeout cups in their hands. “Ah, thank you!” He said casually, trying to avoid some awkwardness.

“So…?” Patton attempted to wiggle his eyebrows as he handed Roman his cup, “Today was a good trip, right?”

---

My other stuff: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/myworks Mobile Accessible Masterlist: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/post/181954641376/fic-masterlist

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[elijahrosefanclub]

Just imagine Elijah proposing to Isaiah at midnigh (at new years)

tHE LONG-AWAITED RESPONSE TO THIS PROMPT (which i love and think is super cute): it got a little long so i’m putting in a cut but here it is on ao3!

my new year’s resolution is you (2k words)

New Year’s Eve is probably Eli’s favorite day of the year, in all honesty, and there’s a very simple reason why. For at least six hours, every year, usually around midnight, he is pretty much guaranteed no bullshit. Everyone is busy partying and drinking, and while that might cause problems for the LAPD, it is so out of Eli’s jurisdiction. And that means that New Year’s Eve is the one night a year when Eli is not awake to see the clock tick over from 11:59 to 12:00. In fact, it’s the one night a year when he always gets over six hours of sleep.

It’s fucking fantastic.

There’s a yearly Vindicators party, and his routine is that he goes when it’s early, when the party is just starting and all the snacks are still well stocked, and he has precisely one glass of champagne and then leaves and is generally in bed by ten PM.

Once he and Isaiah had moved in together, she’d changed her own routine a bit— for the last couple of years, she’s always been home by midnight. At one point, he had asked why, and she’d responded that this way, she gets to start the new year with him even if they’re both sleeping. Actually, especially if they’re both sleeping, because hopefully that’ll be a sign of how the new year is going to go.

(It’s a running half-joke between them, how little they each sleep. Isaiah always gets caught up in one thing or another, and Eli finds it hard to step away from Mission Control even when he’s personally vetted the entire night shift and found them competent. Half-joke because they know it’ll catch up to them eventually, but that day hasn’t arrived yet and it might not arrive until retirement. So for now, they’re fine.)

It’s been eight minutes since Isaiah texted that she was on her way back. Normally, Eli wouldn’t have seen the text— it’s about eleven-forty, and usually he charges his phone at night in the kitchen to avoid sitting in bed watching security feeds of Mission Control on his phone. (There’s a landline in the bedroom in case someone actually needs to contact him at night and by some miracle he’s not already at work.) But tonight, he is ready and waiting. Isaiah should be back by eleven-fifty, and then he only has ten minutes to kill until midnight.

He wants it to be obvious that he’s still awake, because Isaiah’s years as a super mean that her fight-or-flight response is very well developed and tends toward ‘fight’. So surprises are bad. To that end, he’s made sure that the lights are on and there’s some music playing. 

He is ready.

Unfortunately, now it’s 11:43, and he has a lot of time in which to do nothing. And he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little nervous— well, not nervous, per se. More like, he’s anticipatory. And also nervous because unknowns, no matter how probable a certain outcome is, always make him nervous.

Sometimes Eli wonders why he decided to go into managing superheroes instead of, like, accounting.

Regardless, he is here now, and he’d rather be here than in the financial department of some faceless corporation, so here he’ll stay.

But he’s going to make some hot chocolate. 

There is a right way, a wrong way, and a desperate way to make hot chocolate. The right way is on the stove with actual chocolate and milk. The wrong way is with chocolate syrup. The desperate way is with cocoa powder or a hot chocolate mix. Eli doesn’t disapprove of the desperate way, not really, but he avoids it when he can. That’s why it’s called the desperate way.

That’s also why he’s melting chocolate discs in a double boiler at 11:48 PM. Eli likes hot chocolate because he doesn’t like sweetened coffee or tea, but he needs something to fill the void of 'dessert beverages’, and over the years hot chocolate has become his go-to drink when he doesn’t need caffeine and herbal tea just isn’t cutting it.

Besides, it would be presumptuous to open a bottle of champagne now. And it would go flat.

He’s just started pouring in the milk when he hears a key in the lock and the front door swings open. It’s 11:51. And it takes everything in Eli to not immediately stop what he’s doing and freeze like he’s just been caught red-handed stealing. 

Okay, so he’s a little more nervous than he thought he was. Whatever. He can deal.

He keeps pouring the milk, focusing intensely on the stove, and looks up once he hears Isaiah’s footsteps stop in the doorway to the kitchen. “How was the party?”

She’s leaning on the doorframe, her green scarf still around her neck, smiling in the sort of way that makes Eli think (correctly, because he’s spent a lot of time seeing how her face changes) that she doesn’t know she’s doing it. “It was good. I was worried that Elliot might feel awkward since he hasn’t been with us for very long, but I think he’s found his niche on the team. Also, he can seriously hold his liquor.”

“There is pretty much nothing that would surprise me less,” Eli says drily. “Nothing blew up?”

Isaiah laughs and steps away from the doorframe. “No, we save that for when you’re around.” She approaches the stove and puts her chin on Eli’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist. “So what are you doing up so late? Ooh, hot chocolate." 

"Well, I haven’t been awake for midnight on New Year’s Eve since before we met. I figured it would be nice to actually stay up with you. And the hot chocolate is… it’s honestly just because.”

“Hmm.” She’s silent for a few moments, and then she says, “Are you distracting yourself so you don’t obsess about whether anything’s happening in LA that might need the Vindicators?”

“That’s entirely possible?” Which it is, technically. Even if Eli has never been less focused on the Vindicators than he is at the present moment. He can let Isaiah think that’s why he’s making hot chocolate at almost midnight.

She shifts a little bit and he feels a kiss on his jaw. “I understand that. But if anything happens, Tanis will probably know before you do.”

“What? Why?”

“Her phone isn’t fifteen feet away from her and she has the same news alerts set up that you do.”

That’s fair. 

The chocolate and milk look pretty evenly mixed at this point, so Eli turns off the stove. “How long until midnight?”

“It’s 11:56.”

Okay. Four minutes to kill. He can do this.

He turns around to grab mugs from the cabinet, but Isaiah’s already pulling two down from the top shelf, and some neuron fires in Eli’s brain to remind him that the ring is still tucked behind his ties in the bedroom and he has four minutes and he somehow has to get it and bring it back here without Isaiah noticing.

Hmm.

He carefully pours the hot chocolate from the pot into the mugs (no matter how careful he is about it, it’s still probably the scariest thing he does regularly, including walking into the super training facility without checking to see if anyone is practicing projectile warfare), sets the pot back down on the stove and covers it, hands one mug to Isaiah, and says, “I’ll be right back, I’m going to grab a sweater.”

Problem solved. Also, the extra layer of the sweater means that it’ll be harder for Isaiah to tell immediately if he has anything in his pockets.

On his way out of the kitchen, he checks his phone where it’s charging on the counter. 11:58. Okay. Cutting it a little close, but he can do this. 

Eli tries very hard not to visibly speedwalk out of the kitchen, but once he’s safely in the hallway, he jogs as quietly as he can into the bedroom, grabs the first sweater he sees, tosses it over his arm, pulls out the ring and stuffs it in his pocket, and then heads back down the hallway to the kitchen while putting the sweater on.

When he returns, Isaiah is studiously covering her hot chocolate with marshmallows, and she says, “We’ve got like thirty seconds until midnight. Ready?”

“So ready.” In more ways than one.

He grabs his hot chocolate and sets it down next to hers, and like he thought, she’s got a clock pulled up on her phone counting down the seconds until midnight. Twenty seconds. 

Wow. Fucking years, and now all he’s got is twenty seconds. The anticipation honestly might kill him. (But that would be an incredibly stupid way to die, and above all things, Eli abhors dying in stupid ways.)

Fifteen.

He has to time this right if he wants to do it at exactly midnight. This is something Eli has known all along, but now his brain is positively yelling it. Did he mention he should have gone into accounting or something boring like that? 

Whatever. Still worth being here, now, even if, as he has definitely mentioned, he is fucking nervous as fuck.

Ten. Countdown time.

Nine. Okay, single digits. Getting closer.

Eight. Eli casually takes the most minute sip of his hot chocolate just for something to do with his hands.

Seven. He puts the mug back down on the counter.

Six. Shitshitshitshit.

Five. It’ll only take him about a second to kneel, but he definitely needs to get the ring out of his pocket first.

Four. Which he does, carefully holding it to his side out of Isaiah’s sight. He can’t quite work out how to open the box one-handed, but that’s okay, he’ll figure it out— 

Three. No more time to think about it.

Two. He turns a bit so his knee won’t slam into the cabinet underneath the counter.

One. He kneels.

It’s such a simple motion— just kneeling. When it comes down to it, there’s not a lot to be stressed about. He does this to tie his shoes. But the thing that makes it different, that makes it something that’s important, is the ring box in his hand that opened so easily that he can hardly remember doing it, can hardly remember anything about the past few minutes except that they all seemed to go by so fast compared to the eternity of thoughts passing through his brain in what must only be a second, because then the clock ticks down to Zero and Isaiah turns and sees empty space where he was standing next to her, and then looks down, and—

He can see the moment of comprehension on her face, the instant her mouth drops open the tiniest bit and her eyes begin to shine and he hasn’t even said anything before she’s dropped to the floor too and she’s saying “Yes, yes,” over and over and is it really the new year? Because it feels like time has stopped right now, like his heart is waiting in breathless anticipation for the next chance it has to beat, and it still feels like a daze, not like a dream because he is too viscerally here. The little details are popping out at him like they never have before— Isaiah still hasn’t taken her scarf off and the end trails on the floor, but she doesn’t care, because that’s an old scarf that has been through the years with her, and he can feel every single point where the velvet of the ring box makes contact with his hand, and when he takes the ring— gold, slim, beautiful without being ostentatious— out of the box and hands it to her so she can put it on, he feels the cold relief of the metal, how it warms up almost instantly when he touches it, and he can hardly believe this is happening but at the same time it feels like it was fated to happen, like it couldn’t not happen. 

But instead of saying all that, because he’s not sure he could make it make sense out loud even if he wanted it to, he says, “I love you so much,” and then he says, “Happy New Year.”

[lettercastauthor]

Spider-Barista: Part One, Pumpkin Spice Latte, Extra Whip

AU Summary and Warnings: Tony Stark survived the snap that killed Thanos and only lost his arm, Steve Rogers has returned from his brief time travel escapades after realizing he’s not as straight as he thought he was, and his feelings for Tony went far beyond friendship. Tony, Steve, Peter, Rhodey, Pepper, and Nebula are in a polyship and were living at Stark’s private New York residence located somewhere in the city “near all the action,” also close to Peter’s school. Peter, 18, is finishing senior year. Recently, Pepper and Morgan Stark have left for upstate New York to begin Morgan’s private school. Overprotective “auntie” Nebula joined them due to her own safety concerns, leaving the boys to fend for themselves. Unknown to everyone, Tony is having a secret sciencey-fling with Bruce Banner, kept private for shy Bruce’s sake. Aunt May is on a cruise in the Bahamas.

Tony has offered to pay for Peter’s college, but Peter is being stubborn and wants to earn it for himself, so he gets a job at the local coffee shop and quickly finds a love for the job. In fact, he loves it so much that he begins to neglect his Super-Hero duties. At first Tony is supportive of a break from the dangerous life of saving New York on the daily, despite Cap’s urging Peter to take on bigger baddies and hone his skills. But they both soon realize Peter’s interest in coffee is mainly tied to a cute customer who comes in on Peter’s every shift. Unbeknownst to Peter, this customer lives a double life. This will be a serial story, updated when I have time. There will be NSFW content, each section that includes NSFW content will be marked accordingly so the reader can choose to enjoy the story while skipping the lewd parts should the desire.

Everyone in this story is 18 or older.

Tl;Dr: Adult Tom Holland Spider-Man is working as a barista post-blip. He’s in a polyship with Tony, Steve, Rhodey, Pepper, and Nebula. He has a crush on one of his patrons and is neglecting his heroic duty. There’s NSFW stuff in here. 

Part One: “Pumpkin Spice Latte, Extra Whip”

Warm yellow sun pierced through the sepia tinted windows of the coffee shop. It was a nice clear day. The taxi cabs sat bumper-to-bumper, the people hurriedly walked the sidewalks like a fashion-show runway, carrying their coats over their shoulders on this uncharacteristically warm November afternoon. A flash of green dashed through the crowd of customers as Peter Parker raced round the back entrance of the counter to clock in. His apron whooshed around him as he stopped at the register, punched in his employee ID number, and jumped into the flow of things, watching the front door intensely as he worked the hot bar with lightning speed. 

Customers loved Peter. He was quick, he never messed up a drink, and he always served with a smile. Pete’s co-workers loved him because whenever he worked, everyone got higher tips. The manager liked him because he always showed up for every shift, but she felt he could be better at the cleaning part of the job; she made sure to mention that in his quarterly review. Right on time, five minutes after 2:00 p.m., Peter’s favorite customer walked in. He told all the customers they were his favorite, but this one in particular was actually his favorite. 

The bell chimed and a man walked in, brown coat draped over his arm, gray knit sweater hugging his broad shoulders and chest just tight enough to portray a hint of modelesque musculature. This was Jamie. Jamie always wore a steel-blue tie, pulled tight around his white collared button-up shirt. Today, he sported a pair of well-fitting khaki slacks, brown oxfords, argyle socks. Clothing tells you everything about a person in New York City. Jamie’s clothes told Peter this: that Jamie had a job in the city, a real job, the kind you do in an office that looks over the hustle and bustle of the commoner’s everyday lives. Or so Peter imagined. He looked like most New York businessmen, but to Peter he was the definition of heaven. He was also unattainable. Peter rarely worked the register, due to being what the manager called “too friendly.” All his chatting with the customers slowed up the line. Unfortunately, Pete’s normal position at the bar fixing drinks kept him behind a wall of glass and noisy machines. The barrier made it near impossible to communicate effectively with customers.

His only chance was at the passthrough area, where he would set each hand-crafted beverage and call out the name of the customer it belonged to. Jamie changed up his drink often, which both frustrated and intrigued Peter. He wanted to be able to make Jamie’s drink quick enough that he could have a second to drop him his number on a napkin, but by the time Peter learned Jamie’s drink (usually three or four shifts), it was usually too late. He’d switched it up again. But Peter liked that about him, too. Jamie clearly liked to try new things. It was a good sign. 

So, as Jamie placed his order, Peter rushed to fill it before the payment was even processed. Today, Jamie ordered a pumpkin spice latte with extra whipped cream. Pete lucked out. He could make that drink in his sleep! Since the seasonal drink made its yearly debut in September, he was making hundreds of these each day. As he steamed the milk, Jamie looked over and gave him an easy smile. The light danced off his brown skin, his eyes twinkled. Peter felt his cheeks tingle with blush as he returned the grin. Milk frothed and mixed with the pumpkin spice flavor, the drink was almost complete. The payment processor beeped its approval to Jamie, and Peter raced to put the extra whip and autumn seasonings on the drink, meeting Jamie at the passthrough counter and carefully putting the lid on the cup.

As Jamie reached for the drink, Peter slipped a napkin toward him. “Don’t forget your napkins, Mr. Jamie, sir.” He’d written his number on it this morning, in preparation for this very moment.

Jamie smiled again, “Thank you, Peter. I’d hate to get coffee all over my suit.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Jamie took the napkin and left without showing signs of having seen the number written on it. All Peter could do now was wait. Waiting was hard. The time ticked by slower than usual today, but finally it was closing time. Peter helped clean up the floor, sweeping, mopping, and wiping frantically. His co-workers joked about him having a hot date, but when Peter blushed they realized he might actually have a hot date! So they pushed him for answers as to who the mystery guy or girl could possibly be. 

“I don’t have a date, guys. It’s just that I - uh - I have school in the morning. You know, senior year and all. Gotta finish strong,” he said.

At this, Tammy the night shift manager, bursted out with her typical hyena-cackle laughter. “Okay, sure Pete, you have school on a Saturday. Dumbass, it’s Friday night. If you didn’t have a date tonight I would be worried. You need to loosen up, Peter. You can’t just stay single forever!”

Peter’s co-workers had no idea he was actually dating, like, five people, so he just grinned and laughed, “I guess you’re right! Well I have to go now, goodbye!” He clocked out and dashed out of the store as quickly as he came in. As he walked home, green apron hanging over his shoulder, visor flipped backwards, he turned on his phone and waited impatiently for the messages to load. One-by-one they came in.

Aunt May: “Just arrived at the port in Jamaica, having a lovely time on the cruise!”

Cap: “Peter, please remember to do your laundry tonight. Your room smells like feet.”

Mr. Stark: [sent you a picture message]

Ned: “LEGO building party tonight at Josh’s, are you coming? 10pm.”

Pepper: “Morgan says hi!”

MJ: “LOL You look so funny in that coffee uniform.”

But nothing from a mystery number that could possibly be Jamie’s. He responded to the messages somewhat halfheartedly, then descended the subway stairs to take the train home. Headphones in, he thought about Jamie’s smile as he was ordering. His chest felt tight again, blood pumping, music blasting. He daydreamed until his stop, then took the headphones out for his walk home. He entered the tall apartment building and took the elevator up to the top. Nothing but the best for Tony Stark and his family! The penthouse smelled of a home-cooked meal. It was Cap’s turn to cook, so they were bound to have a feast. Rhodey was setting the table and greeted him first.

“Peter! How was work?” He laid down the last fork at the big oval dining table.

“It was good, I made some tips today!” Peter put on an extra layer of cheer to compensate for the disappointment of not hearing from Jamie.

“That’s great, Pete.” Rhodey was Peter’s metamour, Tony being their shared partner. Occasionally there was tension between them. It wasn’t jealousy, but they were known for calling each other out on their bullshit, and Peter could tell Rhodey’s bullshit detector was going off.

But before Rhodes could say anything, Steve Rogers walked in carrying a turkey pot pie. His kiss-the-cook apron, denim cut-off booty-shorts, and crab-claw oven mitts really made for a unique kind of vibe far and away from the Captain America the rest of the world saw. The daisy dukes certainly showed off America’s Ass in the least wholesome of ways. Peter and Rhodey both gulped, eyeballing that thicc snack as Cap bent over the kitchen table and set it at the center. The pot-pie didn’t look too bad either. Both had been interested in Steve for quite some time, but were not sure how to approach that, since he was so newly out of the closet.

“Where’s Tony?” Steve asked, pulling the oven mitts off and reaching back to untie his apron.

“I don’t know, I just got home,” Peter shrugged, heading up the loft stairs.

Steve turned to Rhodey and asked, “What’s up with the kid? He seems off.”

Rhodey wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist and pulled him close, “Don’t you ever take that apron off.” He grinned, then released Steve and headed to the kitchen to grab the green beans and bread rolls. Steve stayed stuck there for a moment, trying to control the blush that spread across his face before going upstairs to check on Peter and find Tony.

Since Peter’s room was down the hall from Tony’s workshop, Steve decided to stop there first. He poked his head in and spotted Pete sulking at his desk, staring listlessly at his phone. Pete didn’t notice him, so he observed and admired for a minute before knocking and entering. “Hey Pete, don’t you have laundry to do?”

Startled, Peter jumped up and threw his phone under his bed. “Yes, that’s exactly what I came in here to do, laundry.” Frantically, he searched for the laundry basket. Unable to find it, he quickly picked up some of his dirty clothes and balled them up in a pile in his arms. Once his hands were full, he used his toes to pick up the boxers and socks that littered the floor.

“Pete…” Steve tried to get his attention.

“I know, Mr. Rogers it smells like feet in here…”

“Pete… well, I mean yes it does but Peter—” he stepped in front of the teen. “Peter, stop.”

“What?” Peter was clearly upset, though his face wasn’t visible behind the pile of clothing that filled his arms.

“Put the laundry down.”

“But my room smells like feet…”

“Peter.”

“Fine,” he dropped the laundry on the floor, then plopped defiantly on the bed. “What.”

Steve sat gently beside Peter. “Pete, you’re upset.”

“I am not upset, I’m fine.”

“Did you have a rough day at work?” Steve scooted closer, leaning into Peter. He smelled sweetly of coffee. Peter said nothing. “You can tell me, I’ll keep a secret.” He wrapped a reassuring arm around Peter’s shoulders.

The young man looked up at him, eyes red from both tiredness and emotions. “There’s a guy.”

“A guy?” Steve had only come out of the closet three months ago. He could feel the blush coming back to his cheeks. He glanced toward the door, secretly hoping Tony would come in and fix everything. Tony could always fix anything, especially Peter’s broken heart.

Pete sniffed. “He’s a customer. His name is Jamie.”

Suddenly suspicious, Steve perked up. “Is he the reason you turned off your police scanner and keep picking up extra shifts at the shop?”

Peter rolled his eyes and sighed. “You have no idea. How hot. He is. Like, he walks in the room and I can’t breathe. And he doesn’t even know I exist beyond that I am some guy in a green apron who works at a coffee shop.”

“I know what you mean, sport, but you so many of us here who adore you, you know?”

“I know, but…” Peter stopped and suddenly realized what Cap was insinuating, “Wait a second… Mr. Rogers are you saying you’re—?”

Just then Tony knocked on the door. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Steve stiffened up and suddenly there was a whole 12 inches between him and Peter. “Hey Tony! Peter had a rough day at work. I told him he needs to do his laundry… ah… dinner is ready, bye!” Steve bolted out of the kid’s room and down the stairs before Tony or Peter had a chance to respond.

“What’s his deal?” Tony asked, sitting down in the warm spot where Steve’s butt just was.

“I think… actually I really don’t know, Mr. Stark.” Peter stood to pick up his clothes.

“Hey, kid, come here for a second.” Tony pulled Peter back onto the bed and pinned him down, his mechanical hand caressing Peter’s cheek. Peter had a momentary flashback to that day but shook it out of his head. He focused on Tony’s piercing eyes.

“You are clearly not okay. And from what I heard, because you know I hear everything that goes on in this house, it has to do with some boy at work?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing…”

“Yes, that’s absolutely right, it is nothing. Hey. Look at me, kid.” He waited until Peter turned his head and made eye contact. “Whoever this guy is, maybe he’s cute. Maybe you even gave him your number on that little napkin from breakfast, but in the end when you’re like us, like you and me and Cap and Bruce, you just can’t date civilians. It never works out. They don’t understand the pressures of the job... or worse: they get killed. Ask any super hero you’ve ever met.”

“But you and Pepper—”

“Yes, Pepper is a special lady who also does the super hero things from time to time. Pep and I have a kid together, but there were years of turmoil before Morgan was born. Stick with what you have, dating outside our kind will only make it hard for you in the end.”

Peter sighed. “I guess… you’re probably right. He’s just so handsome, I… there’s something about him.”

“Pete, I’m not saying don’t go knocking on that door, I’m just saying… be safe about it.”

***NSFW INCOMING. Look for the 3 asterisks at the end of this passage if you wish to skip the naughty stuff.***

Peter glanced up at Tony, feeling flush. Thinking about Jamie, feeling the weight of Tony pressing down against him, it had all started to become a little too much. His hard-on strained against the fabric of his black work pants. “Tony, I…”

“I know, kid,” Tony went in for a kiss. They were still eager and new, Peter only having turned 18 less than three months ago, but the kiss was so familiar and comforting. Tony pulled back and smiled, unbuttoning Peter’s pants. “I don’t want you thinking about that guy anymore. It’s just you and me in here, alright?” He pulled out Pete’s member and rubbed a finger at the base of the head.

“Yes, Mr. Stark, sir…”

“It’s Tony.” He palmed Peter’s cock, then slowly stroked.

Peter could only whimper in response.

“Good boy.” He released Peter. “Get naked for me, I have something I want you to try on.” Tony left the room to grab the skimpy maid outfit from his bedroom closet while Peter disrobed and hastily threw his dirty laundry in a pile in the closet. 

As Peter cleaned, he muttered to himself, “I really should have listened to Cap and done this last week… Where’s that fabreeze?”

Meanwhile, Tony bumped into Steve on his way to their shared bedroom at the other corner of the massive loft. “Steve, what’s up with you today?”

“What are you talking about?” Steve feigned coolness.

“Do you have a thing for Pete?”

“Who? Pete? The kid? Nah. Not me.” Steve sped up, walking quicker toward the bedroom, but Tony caught up with him easily.

At the doorframe, he stopped him, cornered him, pushed him back against the wall. “Steve, I want you to join us.” His lips were so close to Steve’s. Steve quivered.

“Join you?” Steve chuckled nervously, turning red again. “Tony, even if I liked him, how could I handle both of you at once?”

“Yep, that’s it you’re coming with me.” Tony gripped Steve’s forearm tight with his bionic hand and pulled the protesting Captain back toward Peter’s room. The maid outfit could wait for another day, but breaking Steve in with another young buck had to happen someday... and today was as good as any!

By the time they entered the room, Peter had made it spotless. Not a single smell of feet to be found. Tony and Steve both knew he had probably just shoved everything in his closet, but the bed was made and the desk was cleared and the room smelled nicely of linen fabreeze. Peter was nude, sitting on the bed, waiting patiently for Tony to return with some outfit or other. He was shocked to see Steve Rogers standing in the doorway beside Tony, looking shyly down, cheeks frosted rose.

“Mr. Stark… you said you wanted me to try something on… D-do you want me to try on Mr. Rogers?” His voice broke a bit.

Stark sighed. “Kid, how many times do we have to tell you? it’s Tony. And Steve. And... there was a change of plans. Remember how I said it would be only you and me in here?” Pete nodded, swallowing hard as he saw Steve’s growing erection through the tight daisy dukes he’d donned to prepare dinner. “Well, now it’s you and me. And Steve.”

“S-steve, sir, I would love that... it’s just…” Pete had never seen Captain America be so shy. “I think your dick might ruin me…”

Steve glanced at Peter. Tony glared at Steve. “Say it, Cap. Go on! Tell him.”

“Peter.” Steve was looking at him lustfully, passionately now. “I want you. I want you to take me. I need you... I need you inside of me.”

Peter gave a breathy sigh. Partly from the way Cap’s words made his own dick throb, and partly from relief that he wouldn’t have to try to take the horse-sized dong that seemed to be endlessly growing in Steve’s shorts. He stood, approached Steve, and smiled. “I would like that very much.” He glanced over at Tony, unable to hide his surprise and apparent elatedness that Steve was in fact a bottom, and also that his dick really was that huge.

*** End NSFW Section***

So, that’s it for now! What do you think of part one? Do you like the partition for the SFW vs. NSFW content? What do you think will happen next? Part 2 takes place the next day. It will be coming soon! Probably tomorrow, or next week, depending on when I find time between work and school.