#everybody pack up the chairs i'm going home

[rad-roche]

you know i was about to talk about how i'm so happy i picked up an ereader because it's so convenient and i've read so much more than i would have if i just stuck to paper and hardbacks but then i dropped it on my face when i was reading the chill and now i have a perfectly angular bruise under my eye. post cancelled. i'm sulking post cancelled

[dreeki]

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ dance jam.

pairing: dancer!ni-ki x dancer!y/n

syn: y/n is new to the dance studio known for being the home of nishimura riki's dance team and goes there with no crazy expectations. nishimura riki has other plans.

warnings: none(?)

note: eng is not my 1st language, not proofread // ni-ki is both a dancer and a seasonal dance teacher assistant :]

+note: this is heavily inspired by my life and the things that have happened during some of my dance classes ^^

wc: 1.1k

☆ you anxiously woke up at 9am the morning of your first dance class at ni-ki's studio. it was a scary feeling to think that you would have to begin again, even with 10 years of experience under your belt. you were starting to outgrow your old dance studio; even with some great teachers, they were used to only teaching younger kids and you had just recently turned 18, making you unfit for the studio anymore.

luckily, you had been following nishimura riki, the greatest dancer you have seen, for some time and knew that the studio he went to was also open to older students, since he was only a few months older than you.

this seemed to be a great opportunity; in the past, you had wanted to go to his studio before but something, maybe fear, kept you from going.

the 2h class only started at 6pm, so you spent your morning and lunch fidgeting and pacing around the house like a madman. when it was time to get ready, you just picked a pair of sweatpants you had on your desk chair and a freshly washed baggy t-shirt. you packed your dance bag and made sure you didn't forget your water bottle and the black converse you were to change into before class.

once you arrived at the foreign building, you tried your best to go to the right practice room. after walking around the building for a good 3 minutes, you saw a group of teenagers around the same age as you huddled up at one of the rooms' doors. inside you could see through the glass door riki preparing the room for your class.

standing in between the unknown faces of the strangers that shared the same interest as you was a very awkward feeling. you wished to be a bit more open but it was just too hard. maybe once you start dancing it will be better; you've been told many times that you become a different person when you're on stage or dancing, so that calmed you down a bit.

the first thing you and the other students did, along with the teacher and riki, was to warm up really well. that's when you started to feel more at home. after that, the tall boy had to demonstrate the choreography you were about to learn in the following hour. watching his videos online was one thing, but seeing him so close and in his element felt like winning the lottery. it was almost an undescribeable sentiment; he looked so cool and charming while dancing and anybody noticing the way your eyes sparkle watching him smoothly move his body could tell you truly admired the boy.

now it was your turn to learn the combination of moves riki has previously showed the class. usually, you were a quick learner when it came to dance, but there was one certain move that you couldn't quite get. the teacher gave you a small break to take a breather and drink some water after she told everybody that if they have any questions you were free to ask her assistant.

suddenly, a small crowd of people was formed around ni-ki, so you waited a few steps further to ask your question. without meaning to, you heard the conversations started with the boy. "can we take a picture?" "can you sign this for me, please?" "would you be able to follow me back?" and so on.. that was until he let out a frustrates sigh and asked loudly if anybody had any questions related to the dance. "my moment to shine" you thought and stepped closer to ni-ki.

"hi.." you said quieter than you wanted to. the boy simply nodded waiting for you to continue. "i'm having trouble with this one move; i'm not sure what the timing is for it. could you please show me again?" the boy's gaze was so intense while you were speaking, maybe because he had a hard time hearing what you were saying over all the noise, but one thing you knew was that the stare made your heart race. "yess, of course! here, pay attention" and that's exactly what you did. "thank you so so much!!" "no problem!" and so, you returned to your place in the back with the whole choreography learned.

it took awhile for the rest of the dancers to memorize the entire dance and you were patient, as usual.

finally, it was time to be put into groups and for one lucky person to do the combo with the teacher and riki. some people don't get chosen at all, since there's too many people and too little time and that is what you thought your fate would be. but, ohh, how wrong you were. "now for the person that gets to dance with me and the amazing teacher we have here.."

ni-ki carefully scanned the place for the face he was looking for. following his gaze, you almost passed out when out of nowhere his eyes landed on you and the two of you made eye contact. "you!" what?! you looked around but everybody was just looking back at you. "yes, you!" it was the teachers time to speak. "riki and i decided you really compliment our dance style and we really love your fluidity!" wow.. you were ecstatic to hear that, especially since it was your first class after leaving your studio.

the recording went by in a flash and there you were now, checking to see if it was a good take. you were very satisfied with it, so that was your first and final take. after everybody else was done with their groups, the dancers listened to a few final remarks that were said and soon, you were all dismissed.

pleased with your performance that evening, you were heading to the changing room when all of a sudden someone grabbed your wrist in an attempt to stop you in your tracks. startled, you turned around, shocked to be met with the tall, charming figure of your favourite dancer, the one and only, nishimura riki.

"heyy!" he said in a tone meant to mask his nerves, but you could tell he was a bit hesitant for some reason. "hi.." you anxiously replied, thinking that maybe you had done something wrong during the class. "i was wondering.. are you interested in joining my team? i carefully watched you today and, i have to say, i really like your style and the way you prepare for a performance!" you looked at him in shock.

"oh wow.. are you serio- really?" "mhm!" he nodded cheerfully. "oh my god.. this is crazy but yes. yes it would be an honour to be part of your team!" "thank god!" ni-ki exhaled relaxed, as if he had passed the hardest exam of his life. "i was really scared you would refuse; a dancer like you must have many teams wanting to scout you" "you would be surprised to find out that i am actually on my own right now!" you laughed. "not anymore!" ni-ki brightly smiled at you.

who knew that this one singular class could change your whole life...

a/n: tysm for reading this fic!! 🫶 let me know your thoughts about it in the comments! if you liked it, likes and reblogs are much appreciated ☺️

[black-dragon1998]

Lone wolf Chapter 12

Summary: Clarke and Y/N resove their fight.

Notes: Trying to get back into writing for this story.

previous chapters: part 1- part 2- part 3- part 4- part 5- part 6- part 7- part 8 - part 9- part 10-part11

Clarke quickly approached your joined tent, hoping you were there. When she only saw Lexa and Madi, her heart sank. Lexa could see the distress on Clarke's face as she neared the tent. What had happened, and where were you?

"Clarke, hodness. What happened?" It was hard for Lexa not to run to her distressed wife, but Lexa had an image to uphold in unfriendly territory. When Clarke was inside the safety of their tent, she couldn't hold back any longer, so she pulled Clarke close to her with the arm that wasn't holding Madi. Clarke couldn't stop her tears when she felt Lexa pull her closer, missing you.

"Lexa, I did something stupid." Clarke sobbed into Lexa's shoulder.

"It's okay, Clarke, I have you. Whatever happened, I'm sure we can talk about it." Lexa tried to reassure her wife. The three of you had had your arguments before, and they were usually resolved quickly.

"no, Lexa! You don't understand. I have never seen (Y/N) look at me like that."

"Clarke, sweetheart. Tell me what happened from the beginning. Cause you aren't making any sense." Lexa said while leading Clarke toward a chair so she could sit. Madi immediately hugged Clarke the moment she sat down.

"hugs, mommy. Mama says hugs make everything better." Madi looked up at Clarke with a toothy smile. Clarke managed to give a tear-filled smile back. You had been right. Had anyone else caused this commotion, Clarke wouldn't have thought twice about your reaction.

After a couple of deep breaths, Clarke got her breathing under control. She hugged Madi tightly. Lexa, who had watched Clarke run through all the emotions, sat beside her wife as Clarke told her story through hiccups and tears. Lexa listened. It wasn't Lexa's place to choose a side. She just wanted everybody to be safe at home again.

Lexa suggested giving you some time. That way, both you and Clarke could calm down. So when you return, both of you can have a calm conversation. If there was one thing Lexa knew for certain, you loved her and Clarke.

Madi, who hadn't understood the conversation her mothers had been having, just sat there. The thing Madi did understand was that her mommy was sad and that her mama was gone. Seeing her mommy so sad made Madi want to do something about it. Maybe if she found you, you could come and give Mommy your hugs. They always made her feel better.

Sneaking outside, Madi immediately went to the three who would help her. Winter, Rain and Wood were close to the tent and got up when they noticed Madi approaching them. For them, Madi was the pack's pup and needed protection.

"We have to find mama. Mommy sad." Madi walked into the woods, surrounded by the three dire wolves. The wolves immediately tried to locate the scent of their master and started to lead Madi in that direction.

You had cooled off a little after your argument with your wife. You weren't able to go back to the tent just yet. So, you sat on a log and reviewed your emotions and thoughts. You Weren't mad at Clarke. Your feelings got the best of you after a hard couple of days. You also knew Clarke was under much stress, and your clashes with Bellamy weren't helping.

Sitting there for a few minutes, you notice someone approaching you. You ready yourself for whatever it is that comes through the clearing.

"Madi?" Hearing your voice, Madi ran toward you and flung herself at you.

"mama! Found you." You looked her over for any injury she could have gotten while walking through the woods. When you didn't see anything, you looked her in the eyes.

"what are you doing here? Do Mommy or nomon know you are here?" you knew the answer already. No way would your wives let Madi walk through the woods alone. Madi, however, seemed to be concerned about other things.

"mama! Mommy, sad. Sorry. Needs you." Madi wiggled herself out of your hold and pulled you toward the camp. When you didn't follow, Madi looked up at you with a pretty impressive glare. Clarke would be so proud.

"mama! Mommy cried." That did break your heart. Lexa nor Clarke cried easily. Meaning she must be feeling pretty big emotions. Sucking up your feelings, you pick Madi up and start walking toward the rest of your family.

When Clarke spotted you walking toward her, she flings herself at you. She was starting to apologize profusely. You let her ramble for a moment while holding her close.

"It's okay, Clarke. We were both at fault. I shouldn't have let my temper get the best of me and should also have considered your feelings. I get more territorial around certain Skaikru." You kissed Clarke on the forehead before kissing her on the lips. You feel her sag against you and hold her closer. Out of the corner of your eyes, you spot Lexa smiling. Reaching out for her, Lexa picks up Madi and joins the embrace.

"I love the three of you so much." You confess. Having this rare moment of vulnerability reserved for your family.

You and Clarke eat dinner before taking a quick bath and turning in for the night. Agreeing that you would be taking a more back-seated role in the negotiations, limiting your contact with the Skaikru. Your best warriors would still shadow Lexa and Clarke. That was the only condition you had.

part 13

Taglist

@trikruismybitch

@fayhar

@scruffyumbreon

@nocturnal-ace

@poison-blackheart

@simp4panos

[voidvannie]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄

𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐮

𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐞

｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ 🕊️🤍 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ jamie decides he wants to change isabelle’s name but first he has to ask the most important men in her life.

ੈ✩ ━ ❪ feel free to send an any request of things you want to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts about what your read! i would love that! ❫

June 4, 2024

When you see somebody Who erases everybody in the room I don't know what to say, I don't know what to do

Jamie hadn't meant to be up as early as he was, the bold black letters of the time plastered on the screen of his phone reading 5:30 AM while he sat out on the back porch of the hughes lake house.

Another Summer of spending time with his girlfriend, her family and a couple of their friends was a nice getaway from their every day lives of playing hockey and doing all of her social media things.

The hockey players mind flashes to the small velvet black box that he had packed away in his duffel bag, making sure to keep Belle from finding.

He can hear the backdoor slide open but he doesn't take his eyes off of the sun rising in front of him.

"Morning, Jamie." Jim's voice flows from beside him, taking a seat an the empty chair.

"Morning." Jamie sends him a half smile as his head turns to look at him for just a second.

"You're up early." He says after a moment of silence, sitting the coffee cup on the arm of the chair.

"Yeah, I just needed a breather before we get up to whatever Jack has cooked up or us today." Jamie tells him with a slight chuckle.

Jim lets out a chuckle of his own and they sit in silence for a moment before the father of four broke it, "I can see all the signs, son....so go ahead. Ask me."

Oh, I I don't wanna change who you are I don't wanna mess with your dreams Or get in the way of who you wanna be

Jamie feels the palms of his hands grow sweaty as he wipes them on the dark grey material of the sweat pants he's wearing, his words suddenly catching in the back of his throat.

"Um, I.....I want to ask Belle to marry me." He finally chokes out, eyes never leaving the sunrise in front of him.

"How long have you been thinking about this?" Jim turns to look at his daughter's boyfriend.

"For about year. I’ve had the ring since December 27, 2023." He tells Jim, finding a sudden interest in playing with the thing bracelet on his wrist with 'IMH' engraved on it.

"A year?"

Jamie smiles, "Yeah. It first crossed my mind when I was traded to the Flyers. I called her right after I got the phone call when we were in Memphis and she told me that we would be okay, I'd be okay. That's when was like, 'damn, i really think i want to spend the rest of my life with this girl.'."

"And when were you sure you wanted to marry her?"

"A week after I was traded, when she packed up her apartment in California to move in with me in Philly." Jamie has no hesitation as he speaks.

Jim smiles at the adoration in Jamie's voice when he talks about his daughter, "Jamie, when Belle first came home telling Ellen and I about you, I was honestly worried. I love my sons, and I love hockey, but I didn't want my daughter to date a hockey player. But listening to how she talked about you, how she talked about the way you treated her, I told Ellen, 'i'm happy that he can put this big smile on her face and a bright sparkle in her eyes'. That's all a father could ever want for his little girl."

Jamie listens, hanging onto every word.

"And if you wanna marry my daughter, I give you permission to do so." He says as they both stand up, Jim bringing Jamie into a hug.

"Thank you."

────── ❪ 🌿🕊️! ❫

No, I I won't stop your runaway heart I just wanna be why you stay Only thing about you that I'd change is I'd change your name

Ellen and Belle had decided to take the time to have a little girls day, leaving the boys and Jim at the lake house.

Jamie sat on the couch next to Luke, playing with a lose thread on his jeans as he watched the others playing video games, trying to think of ways her could ask four of the dozen hockey players staying.

Taking a deep breath, he just decided to rip the band-aid off and quickly blurts it out, "I wanna ask Belle to marry me."

The yelling that had been going on quiets down as everyone turns to look over at Jamie, the sounds of Luke dropping the controller to the ground following.

“Did I hear that correctly?” Quinn leans forward to be able to look at Jamie.

“Dude! Come on!” Trevor groaned as he stands up from the couch, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and slapping a twenty into Jack’s outreached hand.

“Buddy, you made me twenty bucks richer!” Jack smiled widely, “Make me an Uncle in six months and I’ll win another twenty!”

“Don’t make him an uncle cause I’m not giving him another twenty.” Trevor huffs sitting back in his place. “Marry your girl, Jamie!”

“This is really what you want?” Quinn asked, his tone serious as he looks at the hockey player.

“A hundred percent. Guys, I love your sister with every little ounce of my being.” Jamie tells them, “Belle is the only person that I see myself marrying.”

“And our dad?” Luke raised an eyebrow.

“Asked him this morning, he said yes.” Jamie wipes his hands on his jeans, growing nervous again under the gaze of all the guys.

“Well, you have my yes.” Jack grinned.

“When do you want to do this?” Quinn crossed his arms over his chest.

“This weekend, before we leave.” Jamie answered, “She’s always talked about getting proposed to on the end of the dock.”

Quinn smiled, “Okay. You reeled me in. Yeah, you can marry my little sister.”

“Luke, you’re really quiet over there, buddy.” Jack grinned at the little pout on Luke’s face.

With the pout still on his lips, Luke crosses his arms over his chest, “Fine, you can marry my sister.” He pauses, "But I would also like to become an uncle, just not in six months."

────── ❪ 🌿🕊️! ❫

June 11, 2024

I can't see 20 years from now Hell, I can barely see today Can't promise you your sky won't drop a little rain When that smile in the mirror disappears I promise you I'll be right here

"Hey, baby." Jamie grins as he walks back into the lake house from being on the boat with the boys, leaning down to kiss her, "Got anything planned for tonight?"

"Hmm, no." Belle shakes her head, "Why?"

"I'm taking you out to dinner." Jamie tells her as she looks at him, "What is it?"

"What do I wear?"

"Something pretty."

“Okay.”

────── ❪ 🌿🕊️! ❫

Oh, I I don't wanna change who you are I don't wanna mess with your dreams Or get in the way of who you wanna be

“Have I mentioned how pretty you look?” Jamie grinned from the driver side of the rental car her shared with Trevor.

“Hmm, almost every chance that you get.” Belle smiles over at her boyfriend, bringing her hand up to play with the hair on the back of his neck. “Tonight was nice, just the two of us.”

“It was.” Jamie pulls into the driveway of the lake house, “But I have one more surprise.”

Belle raised an eyebrow at her boyfriend as he quickly jogs around the front of the car to her side, pulling the door open for her, “Thank you.”

“Always.” He smiles, kissing her for a brief moment before he takes her hand and starts leading her down towards the dock.

A quiet gasp leaves her lips as she takes in the sight of the small boat dock.

Candles lit up the walkway going out to the end. Seven bundles of roses lined up the sides as well as rose petals scattered along the middle.

“Jamie….” Belle stops in her tracks as tears begin to rise above her water line.

Jamie grins as he takes her by the hands, pulling her close to him, bringing her hand to wrap around his neck as he let his own drop to her waist, “Isabelle….,”

“No, don’t drop to one knee right now.” Her bottom lips trembles as she looks into her boyfriends eyes.

A chuckle leaves his lips as he sniffles, “You know, Trevor caught me watching your videos the night before we met? I had found them a couple weeks before and watched them all, and I never picked up that you were related to Jack, Quinn and Luke. And then I walked out of the locker room, and there you were.”

“We went back to our house after dinner that night, and I couldn’t stop talking about how amazing you were so Trevor gave me your number and I was so terrified to do anything with it. Took me two weeks to build up the courage to text you and ask you to have lunch with me.”

“After, I went home and I called my mom. I’ve never told you this, have I?” Jamie stops to ask her, which she shakes her head no, “Good. I went home and I called my mom, and I told her, ‘This girl, she’s it. She is everything that I’ve been searching for. She’s it for me,’ and she just laughed me off and said, ‘Jamie, your young, you’ll have more than one experience like this’, and I told her, ‘watch me marry her.’.”

“We’ve been there for each other through every good, bad, up, down. Through sickness, career moves, through every hockey game, every time you needed someone to participate in videos for your channel, TikTok pranks, and your pregnancy scare last year.” Jamie kept going with his speech, never once losing eye contact with Belle as he did.

“And the other morning, I was sitting out on the porch, lost in thought about how I was going to ask your dad and brothers, when your dad came and sat down next to me. He could see it on my face that I wanted to ask him, and he asked me how long ago had I been thinking about asking you to marry me. For an entire year, the thought of marrying your had been in the back of my mind, but six months ago I finally got the courage to buy the ring."

"But the exact moment that I really knew that I wanted to have you for the rest of my life was last year when you packed up everything you made for yourself in California and moved with me to Philly." Jamie's thumb wiped away the tears falling from Belle's face, tears of his own falling. "Can I get down on one knee now?"

A sob rips through her throat as she vigorously nodded her head, "Please."

Jamie chuckles before pulling the ring box out of his pocket, dropping down to one knee as he looked up at the blonde, "Isabelle Marie Hughes, will you marry me?"

"Yes, of course!" A giggle leaves her lips as Jamie slides the beautiful ring onto her finger before standing up and bringing her into a deep, breath taking, kiss.

Loud cheers fill the air as everyone comes out of their hiding spots, Luke instantly rushing to his older sister, spinning her around in a tight hug.

"Oh, let me see the ring!" Ellen grabs her hand, smiling at the diamond ring resting on her finger. "Oh, my baby is getting married!"

No, I I won't stop your runaway heart I just wanna be why you stay Only thing about you that I'd change is I'd change your name

Jamie smiles as he watches his fiancee gush over the ring with her mother, that smile growing bigger as she locked eyes with him, “I love you.” He mouths watching as she mouths the words back.

[jungle-angel]

Joint Lessons in History (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob love the days when you guys can lay back and enjoy the show with your classes

Tagging: @sebsxphia @bobfloydsbabe @bradleybeachbabe Helena my love, I heard you were having a bit of a rough evening and I figured you could use a little pick-me-up. I wanna write more of this AU down the road so if you wanna be on a mini taglist let me know

Friday afternoons before school vacations were always the best, because for you and Bob, it meant a joint history and literature class together. You always loved days like this, because not only would you be with Bob, but it meant shenanigans with your students before having to go home and tend to the house. Luckily for you, your mother and father-in-law were there to help keep things in order, making it easier on you and Bob.

"Alright my freaky little aliens, everybody up on those desks!" Bob announced.

The group of sixteen and seventeen year olds were excited as ever. The day before winter break was always the most exciting with Bob making it easy on them by doing review games for whatever the main lesson block was that week. This week's rewards were pieces of the endless arrays of candy and chocolate-peanut butter fudge that Bob kept in the desk drawers.

Up on the desks they went, sitting cross-legged or with their legs dangling over the edge before your class entered the room to join them.

"How goes Mrs. Floyd?" Bob mumbled before he kissed you.

"We might need to stop for coffee on the ride back," you answered. "I've had more than enough water and I'm exhausted."

"We've got the next two hours to decide where we're gonna stop," Bob told you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Momma called earlier, she and Dad made us dinner for when we get home."

"Oh thank God," you sighed, relieved that your mother-in-law had done so.

Bob took his place at the front while you hopped up onto the edge of his desk, making yourself right at home on your favorite little perch.

"Pop quiz guys," Bob announced. "Rulers of Lothlorien in Fellowship of the Ring, who were they?"

"Celeborn and Galadriel!" Deshawn answered.

"Awesome dude!" Bob said, tossing Deshawn a mini kit-kat bar. "Speak friend and enter, what's the elvish word for friend?"

"Mellon!" Kelsey answered.

"Young lady, ya'll have just earned yourself a Mr. Goodbar!" Bob answered enthusiastically, reaching into the drawer of his desk and tossing the mini chocolate bar to Kelsey, the girl in the navy blue and orange varsity jacket.

"Alright, lets see if Mrs. Floyd can stump you guys," Bob said.

"Aragorn's nickname is what?" you asked.

Every possible name for the character was shouted through the room until Justin threw both of his hands up in the air. "The dude who never showers!" he blurted out.

"Justin Daly sit your ass down this instant!" Bob laughed.

You and Bob couldn't help but laugh. "Alright who's got the real nickname, c'mon, don't be shy," you told the kids.

As soon as Birdy O'Connor shouted out "Strider", a mini packet of M+Ms went flying in her direction. You and Bob were able to waste the last two hours of the day playing the game with hardly a break in between.

"Gandalf's famous words to the Balrog?!" Bob called out loudly.

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!!!!!" the kids chorused together.

"Alright guys everybody's getting a piece for that one!"

Everyone laughed as you and Bob tossed the mini chocolate bars, packets of gummies, Nerds, Reese's peanut butter cups and mini packets of Skittles and M+Ms to your students when they answered correctly. The enjoyment of the game however, was interrupted by one of the admins ringing the handbell to signal the end of the day.

"Alright guys, you know the drill," Bob announced. "Chairs up, bags packed up and make sure nobody slips on their way out to the parking lot. It's slippery out there!"

The clatter of wood on wood echoed throughout the room as students picked up their chairs and turned them over to put them on the desk, packing up their backpacks with whatever they needed for the duration of school vacation.

"Wanna make a run to grab coffee?" Bob asked as you walked out into the freshly falling snow.

"Why not?" you asked with a cheeky little grin. "I hear they have that new chocolate-peppermint flavor you love so much."

Bob pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. "Love you Mrs. Floyd."

"Love you too Mr. Floyd," you answered, eagerly returning the kiss before you hopped into the truck and pulled out of the dirt parking lot, the heat blasting and waring you both up.

[toomanyrobins2]

Christmas in Gotham

Summary: An orphan all her life, Y/N is simply too old to remain at The Bowery Home any longer. That is where an anonymous patron has swooped in to send her off to college and all he requires…a monthly letter of her academic progress.

Based off the book and musical “Daddy Long Legs”

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

last part // series masterlist // next part

Notes: I'm finally getting around to updating this fic! If you would like to catch up and get more consistent updates to this story and others I would go to by AO3!

From the Home of the Gordon Family

31st December

Dear Batman,

I meant to write to you before and thank you for your Christmas cheque, but life in the Gordon household is very absorbing, and I don't seem able to find two consecutive minutes to spend at a desk.

I bought a new gown—one that I didn't need, but just wanted. My Christmas present this year is from Batman; my family just sent love.

I've been having the most beautiful vacation visiting Barbara. She lives in a big old-fashioned brick house with white trimmings set back from the street—exactly the kind of house that I used to look at so curiously when I was in the Bowery Home, and wonder what it could be like inside. I never expected to see with my own eyes—but here I am! Everything is so comfortable and restful and homelike; I walk from room to room and drink in the furnishings.

It is the most perfect house for children to be brought up in; with shadowy nooks for hide and seek, and open fireplaces for pop-corn, and an attic to romp in on rainy days and slippery banisters with a comfortable flat knob at the bottom, and a great big sunny kitchen, and a nice, fat, sunny cook who has lived in the family thirteen years and always saves out a piece of dough for the children to bake. Just the sight of such a house makes you want to be a child all over again.

And as for families! I never dreamed they could be so nice. Barbara has a father and mother and grandmother, and the sweetest three-year-old baby sister all over curls, and a medium-sized brother who always forgets to wipe his feet, and a big, good-looking brother named Jimmie, who is a junior at Princeton. 

Bruce's eyes scanned the words on the paper, his usually stoic expression revealing a flicker of surprise and something akin to dismay. He couldn't deny the unease that settled in his chest at the mention of this mysterious young man. The thought of Y/N, someone he had mentored and grown fond of, showing interest in someone else triggered an unexpected pang of discomfort.

A low groan escaped him as he set the letter down on the desk. The idea of Y/N having an interest in a man didn't sit well with him, stirring emotions he hadn't anticipated. He couldn't quite put his finger on why it bothered him so, but the realization that she might be drawn to someone outside their mentor-mentee relationship brought a sense of unrest.

Leaning back in his chair, Bruce ran a hand through his hair, contemplating how to react to Y/N's letter. He couldn't deny the connection they shared, and the notion of someone else vying for her attention created a subtle tension in the air. 

We have the jolliest times at the table— everybody laughs and jokes and talks at once, and we don't have to say grace beforehand. It's a relief not having to thank Somebody for every mouthful you eat. (I dare say I'm blasphemous; but you'd be, too, if you'd offered as much obligatory thanks as I have.)

Such a lot of “things we've done—I can't begin to tell you about them. Mr. Gordon is the Commissioner of Gotham and Christmas Eve he had a tree for the officers’ children. It was in the long packing room which was decorated with evergreens and holly. Jimmie Gordon was dressed as Santa Claus and Barbara and I helped him distribute the presents.

Dear me, Batman, but it was a funny sensation! I felt as benevolent as a Trustee of the John Grier home. I kissed one sweet, sticky little boy—but I don't think I patted any of them on the head!

And two days after Christmas, they gave a dance at their own house for ME. It was the first really true ball I ever attended—college doesn't count where we dance with girls. I had a new white evening gown (your Christmas present—many thanks) and long white gloves and white satin slippers. The only drawback to my perfect, utter, absolute happiness was the fact that Mrs. Lippett couldn't see me leading the cotillion with Jimmie Gordon. Tell her about it, please, the next time you visit the B. H.

Also, who should have been invited to this event but Mr. Bruce Wayne himself! Apparently he is friends with the Gordons and I had the opportunity to thank him again in person for the lovely chocolates. He introduced me to his friends and inquired about my education and recommended a book to me. In the most gentlemanly of actions, he sent the book to the Gordon home the next day with a note that I should keep the book and add it to my personal collection. He says that every respectable writer should have a collection of books and I find that I agree with him completely. I find myself dreaming of a day where i can live in a grand home and collect books to my heart’s content.

Yours ever,

Y/N Abbott

PS. Have you ever read Gulliver’s Travel? I wonder what you would think of such a fantastical novel!

PPS. Would you be terribly displeased, Bats, if I didn't turn out to be a Great Author after all, but just a Plain Girl?

[goldenempyrean]

Empyrean’s Advent: Day 19

Prompt: “How on earth are you going to get better if you keep pushing yourself like this.”

Pairing: Sick Scarlett Johansson x Reader

Wordcount: 785

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‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿ ‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

“Oh Scarlett.” Your heart sank as you saw your wife haunched over her desk, her head resting on her folded arms as she slept in a position which must’ve been far from comfortable, “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

You should’ve known it was bad when you got a call from her co-worker Kate saying you needed to come and pick her up. Scarlett really had been overdoing herself recently, she’d putting been so much of her time and effort into growing her company that she’d been neglecting to take care of herself despite your constant reminders. Most nights Scarlett would go to bed then wait until you had fallen asleep to pull out her laptop, often working until the early hours of the morning. It really wasn’t surprising that she had gotten sick.

“What am I going to do with you baby?” You whispered to her as she slept, carefully leaning over to save the document displayed on the screen of the laptop on her desk before switching it off and packing it away. You continued to let Scarlett sleep as you tiptoed around the room and gathered her things, letting them rest by the door. All you had to do now was convince her to come home, a task which was easier said then done.

You pressed a soft kiss to the top of her forehead before gently touching the back of my hand to her exposed cheek, it feels clammy, almost damp. She’s definitely running a fever and Scarlett's nose scrunches up as she gives a small sniffle in her sleep.

“Scarlett? Sweetie, wake up for me?” You purr, letting your fingers tenderly caress her cheek.

Scarlett mumbles something and her hand reaches for you without her eyes opening as she slowly stirs awake. She's groggy and tired—a product of her lack of sleep and refusal of any and all rest.

“Hi baby.” You whisper as Scarlett sits up in her chair, sleepily rubbing at her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Scarlett asks, her voice laced in fatigue and congestion.

“Im here to take you home baby,” You explain, “Kate called me, she said you weren’t feeling well and needed to come home and I think shes right, you don’t look well at all sweetie.”

She rubs her brow and makes a small, adorable noise somewhere in between a whimper and a moan, “Im just tired.”

“You’re not ‘just tired’ Scarlett, you’ve been overworking yourself for weeks now.” You said, your voice taking on a more serious tone to it, “Just let me take you home? We can grab a blanket and snuggle on the sofa or we can have cuddles in bed, does that sound tempting?” The tip of your finger runs along the bridge of her nose, which she wrinkles up in the most adorable way possible.

“That’d be amazing,” Scarlett admits and gives a small smile but it fades away only seconds later, “I have to work though.”

“Scarlett, you’ve been working non-stop for days.”

"So? This is my job," Scarlett protested between violent sniffles. "I can't afford to miss anything, I have so much stuff to do" She leaned back in her office chair and pulled her legs up, letting her head rest on her bunched-up knees.

“How on earth are you going to get better if you keep pushing yourself like this.”You long to hold her, if for no other reason than to remind her that I'm there. To remind her that it's okay to fall apart sometimes. With a heavy sigh, you twirled her chair around so that it faced away from the desk and knelt down infront of it, bringing yourself to eye level with your sniffling wife.

“Scarlett everybody knows how hard you work, nobody's ever going to forget that and taking some time off to look after yourself is sometimes the best thing to do. I mean, look at you, you can barely keep yourself awake. You need to just give in and let me take care of you baby.”

She sighs with a soft grunt and before she can voice an argument, your hands are taking her by the waist and lifting her from her chair. She's in no state to protest.

“Thank you, now come on, let me take you home.”

With the slightest of nods, Scarlett reaches out and links her fingers with your own as you lead her from the office. Work can wait. All you cared about now was taking care of your wife, reminding her that it was okay to take time to look after herself. It was part of your marital duties after all, ‘In Sickness and In Health’ right?”

✧*̥˚ Taglist! *̥˚✧ @somber-sapphic @lyak12 @natashamyl0ve @scrambled-brain-eggs @ceiestiaie @santana1437 @lovethewhumps @likefirenrain @snifflesandchills

[anneimaginesundertale]

9. First day at work or school, and tgis is probably the only time I'll put in two but Blue and Randy, it's too perfect not to combine XD

"I'm going to KINDY-GARD-EN!" Randy sang at the top of his lungs. Your older child bounced in his seat at the breakfast table. "I'm going to KINDY-GARD-EN with DAAAAADDDYYYY!"

You managed to hide your laughter with a big sip of coffee. At the counter, Blue became very focused on packing two lunch boxes. Next to you, your daughter Cherry banged on her high chair. "Kind-eeeeee-garden!!!!!" she shrieked. "I go with Daddy!"

Oh. Ooo...

"No!" Randy turned to his sister before you could. "Only I go with Daddy today! You're too little. You stay with Mommy and have fun here!"

Cherry's big eyes filled with tears. "Mommy?" she asked, looking at you as if someone had kicked her puppy.

You swallowed your coffee and gave her a big bright smile. "That's right, Cherry Berry! You and I get to stay home and have fun with the cousins. Uncle Sweets is going to bring over Gracie and Gideon to play with us, and Uncle Boss is going to bring Poppy. We'll have a Two Crew Party!"

That seemed to calm Cherry for a moment, but then she asked, "Someday too?"

"Uh, no, honey. Someday's going to school with Auntie Anne. She's starting pre-k, just like brother is starting junior k."

"Kindy-garden," Randy corrected.

"Yes." This particular fight was not a fight you were going to win, so you'd given up days ago. "Randy and Someday are going to be big kids and go to school today, and the Two Crew all gets to party here."

"And," Blue added, noting the looks on both children's faces, "we'll all have a big family dinner tonight once everybody is home. All our family and friends will come to celebrate, because it's a big big day!"

"Big day," Cherry repeated.

"That's right." You took your cue from Blue and spoiled a little surprise. "You and the Twos are going to help me make decorations, and help Uncle Sweets make cookies."

"Yaaaayy cookies!!!" Cherry banged on her tray again. "I do it now!"

"Not now. Eat breakfast first."

"Otay..."

Randy was still looking a little torn. "Can I help with cookies?" he asked.

You leaned over and hugged him. "I'll save some for you to decorate after school," you promised. "The party won't be until dinner time, so there's time for you to help too."

"Yay!" Randy hugged you and then turned back to his breakfast. "Come on, Daddy! Eat fast so we can go! We have to get to school!"

Both your boys bolted their breakfast. Blue sent Randy to his room to get dressed. You cleaned up Cherry a bit and let her out of her chair. She toddled off in the direction of Randy's room. You'd have to go after her, but you took a moment to have a moment with your husband.

"I'm really proud of you," you said, hugging him. "You're finally a full time teacher!"

"I know!" Blue bounced in your embrace, beaming. "I'm so excited!" He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "And a little nervous..."

"You'll do amazing," you assured him, and sealed the promise with a kiss. "I'm so proud of you, love." One more kiss and then the two of you separated to go and deal with the wild giggling shrieks coming from Randy's room. (Somebody decided the bed was a trampoline, apparently...)

Twenty minutes later, you watched your husband and your son get into the car and drive away. You and Cherry waved until they turned the corner and were out of sight.

"Mama sad?" Cherry asked, noting the tears in your eyes.

"Just a little, baby," you said. "I'm going to miss Daddy and brother."

"They come back," Cherry assured you, and your heart melted. You hugged your daughter close. You were so, so happy and so blessed to have the family you had.

[rickybowensfever]

28. “I should have stayed home”

@sicktember - Day 28

28. “I should have stayed home”

NEW CHARACTERS!!

I'm introducing my new characters in this fic. Meet Jessie and Luke!

Jessica “Jessie” Rose Baker (She/her): Fat; curly long blonde hair; Southern Belle from Alabama currently living in Maryland, bisexual; dental hygienist. She is fresh out of college. Age: 23

Luke Olsen (He/him): Trans guy; light brown hair and green eyes; slender; from Maryland; 2nd grade teacher at a public school. Age: 22

Bio: Jessie and Luke met at John Hopkin’s University in Maryland. They live together in a small apartment complex and have been together for three years. They met during their junior year of college.

OCTOBER 5, 2023

Sitting at their table in the dim light of the venue, Luke could feel his head pounding as the DJ announced Jessie’s sister and her brother-in-law.

“Everybody give it up for the first time as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds!”, the room erupted with applause and cheering as the newlyweds made their grand entrance to the dance floor.

Meanwhile, Luke lay his head on the table dressed in a white tablecloth, covering his ears trying to drown out the sound.

What feels like twenty minutes later but is only a few minutes, he feels Jessie’s hand on his back. Her long blonde curls hitting his shoulder and the smell of her rose perfume was strong.

“You okay?” she whispered into his ear. Throughout the last two weeks, Luke had felt something coming on. With the seasons changing and a month into the school year, it was inevitable. Only two years into teaching and his immune system had yet to catch up with his germ-infested students. But he held out hope that the beginning of school sickness would hold out until after the wedding.  

He was very, very wrong.

“I should’ve stayed home” his voice muffled as he kept his head on the table. Jessie sighed at her boyfriend and immediately grabbed her purse from the chair beside him. She sat down and rummaged through it until she found her emergency pack of pain relievers.

Luke knew what Jessie was thinking since they had just had this conversation yesterday. Luke was feeling run down from a long week of rowdy (and snotty) second graders that he skipped the rehearsal dinner that night to rest on the couch and watch [redacted show because the SAG-AFTRA & WGA are on strike!]  for the fifth time.  

Jessie told him repeatedly he didn’t have to go to the wedding sick. But Luke was as stubborn as they came, and he wanted to support her. But now he wanted to kick Past Luke for not listening to her.  

Jessie nudged Luke’s arm trying to get his attention, holding onto the sleeve of his suit jacket. He slowly pulled his head off of the table and looked at her with his big glassy, green eyes. She pouted her lip; she wore rose red lipstick to match her maroon-colored dress.

As the DJ called everyone to watch the father-daughter dance, Jessie handed him the small white container shaped as a cylinder and directed him to take the medication. Luke shook out two pink tablets onto his palm and chase them down with the complementary glass of water he was given when they walked into the reception.

“Why don’t I give you the key to the hotel and you can go lie down?” she suggested, looking at him and back up at the dance floor.

Luke knew she was right. At his job, he was constantly solving childish problems that his seven and eight-year-old students thought were the end of the world so why was it so hard to let someone else solve his easy problems for once?

“I think I’ll be okay” he lied as his head continued to pound to the rhythm of the music.

Jessie had been looking forward to being a bridesmaid in her sister's wedding since the engagement back in Fall of 2019 which happened to be the same time she and Luke met at college. He wanted to be there for her to witness her brother’s big day.

Jessie smiled a thin-lipped smile and put a hand on his back. “If you start feeling bad, let me know and a car can drive you over to the hotel. Seriously,” she said looking into his eyes sternly.

Luke nodded his head in agreement. He would wait at least until dinner and head back to the hotel. He had at least attended the wedding, he told himself trying to convince his anxious thoughts he was doing good by her.

[colleenmurphy]

"There's a step here, Miss.."

He instructed with gentle ease as he guided her up the front steps of the rambling victorian she called home. He trailed off at her last name until he got the mailbox.

'Murphy'

Judging by the digs this fine upstanding young woman found herself the proprietress of the town Bed and Breakfast.

Either that or a she's a lone pea in a very large extra fancy can of peas.

He reasoned to himself as he guided her up onto the tidy enclosed porch. He liked the fact that she had her front door painted a very welcoming shade of Heritage Red.

The lanky dark haired green eyed woman all but hung off of him like a coat at this point. Mary Colleen Murphy had defended him to the very teeth against a pissy little fuck boy named Boyle? Bends? Ben-something. Michel Caffee never ever forgot a face in his life. That man was marked.

"Dibs."

He was semi startled as she fumbled to find her keys, leaning slightly against her. Her voice was husky from the joint they'd shared afterward with the cook and the bartender after the place quieted down. He was sporting a sliced left brow and he felt the forming of a black eye starting. Nothing Advil and time couldn't fix maybe a band aid or two.

"His name is Joel Benson. I call fucking dibs in parting him from this mortal coil."

She was warm and she smelled like warm lavender and honey and clean skin mixed with weed. Another sneaky sniff as she fumbled to get the key into the lock, an ancient skeleton key for her front door, and his head was reeling. It was almost like she could read his mind.

"You ever know your front step's loose?"

He ventured to her as the ancient front door creaked open.

"Oh yeah, I've been meaning to fix it but I've been a little busy trying to run the bar. I'm not home much. Not that it's..home."

He followed her inside and was pleasantly surprised to find a very welcoming front foyer. It was painted a deep shade of green.

"You know someone that does repairs? Handyman stuff? I can pay.."

She was leaning against the immaculately polished newel post studying him through semi hooded green eyes. He watched as her nimble fingers rolled a second joint for them to share. Part of her deal in him giving her a lift home.

"I could do it for you. I..I'm Mike Caffee...I've got a construction company."

A smile of recognition blossomed over her face, a truly enchanting sight if he was honest.

'Everybody goes on about how women glow like the sun but she's the fuckin' moon.'

He thought to himself as he watched her venture further down the tiny hallway connecting the kitchen to the dining area. She waited for him bathed in the light of the full moon. She was molten sterling silver darting along dusky blue velvet.

"Would you like a coffee or something? I've got wine, whisky, port."

"All that for the house?"

"Dad was a fanatic about the drink cart."

He understood.

"I'd love a beer if you have one."

A sly smile crept over her face as she crooked a finger for him to follow her out to the garage. In the clean startelingly white GE fridge was a six pack of Hamm's, the former man of the house's preferred beer during baseball games. Offering him one and raising it in cheers she motioned for him to follow her.

"Let me take a look at your eyebrow. I've got a first aid kit for this type of shit."

He felt himself being steered quite expertly by this mysterious mind reading woman.

"The green is called picholine if you'd like to know. I saw you looking before."

The hair on the back of his neck stood straight up again.

"Are you a fucking a mind reader or something lady?"

Holding out the joint to him as an olive branch he accepted just as she plopped him down into a captain's chair at the head of the old oak table.

"Something like that. I just feel like you and I have met before somehow. I've seen you around yes, but we didn't go to school together. We didn't grow up on the same street. But I can tell you that you like your coffee with one sugar and a splash of half and half. If you have to drink tea you take it builder's style. More milk and sugar than leaf water."

She shocked him into a silence so deep he could hear the hum of universe. Something told him she loved herbal teas and made her own. If she was ordering out it was earl grey with honey. She used Rose Milk lotion because her mother did. She misses her and the feeling is mutual. Her mother was built much like her, a dancer fluid and graceful no matter the circumstance.

"You use Rose Milk because your mother did."

"Touché, Mr. Caffee. Hold still, this is going to suck. Does it ease your mind to know that I used to be a nurse?"

A pop and a sting and his brow was numb. He felt a tugging as she worked. This was nothing new to him, he'd grown up a hoodlum in Rhode Island. He'd scrapped with his younger brother and Flannery boys from down the block. He'd had his head damn near stoved in by a pissy fisherman who had just been dumped by his girl. This was nothing new. The grey tiger tabby cat Mrs. Danvers, who had a bit of a pudge stared him down alongside a rather intimidating long snouted wolf type dog.

"This is Mrs. Danvers and her canine charge, Manderley. We just call her Winter. It's easier."

At the mention of her name she perked her ears towards him for a moment and brought her head to sniff in his general direction. Glancing towards her feline partner in crime they agreed. This dude in the leather jacket with the icy blue eyes and high cheeks bones was cool. Their lady was safe with him. He'd even remembered to lock the door after her.

"You've got a sense of humor."

For a moment her hands stopped. She was running her fingers through his hairline. Probably to make sure the cut wasn't deeper towards his scalp. That asshole's beer bottle had come down hard. It hadn't been his fault he'd seen red when he spotted Benson trying to man handle Colleen. She had stepped in for a friend. A doe eyed sweetheart that worked over at the Spina's Floralist. Really sweet girl. He had made a call or two to the owner, Eddie Spina after hours after she was well out of sight and earshot. The fact that he'd put in the coolers and the misting system for him in exchange for weed on tap had been the agreement. On paper, so it was legit in the eyes of the law and the state, he still owed Mike the cool sum of $25,000. The schmuck hadn't even bothered to attempt to pay him back. Anything. So to see his best florist, she'd handled his Granny MacCool's funeral spray and arrangements as well as his cousin Mickey's wedding. So, to see her get the shit knocked out of her let alone at all, pissed Mike right the fuck off. It ticked Colleen who was there as a customer, The Old Towne was busy with the Sox game on. From the sounds of it he'd had too much to drink and had wasted is last tenner on beer instead of his bet cover. Helene, he remembered her name, ended up bearing the brunt of his temper tantrum, in front of everyone on Delaney street.

"My Mother did, she was a novelist."

He was intrigued and his interest was piqued.

"Really?"

"Yep. You're eyebrow's going to be ok. No lumps or bumps deeper or further back. "

"Oh color me ever so relieved. Who was she?"

She offered him her lighter he accepted and lit the hand roll she'd gifted him, took a puff and passed it up to her. Shaking her head she finished up by putting a bandaid over the stitches.

"Who was who?"

"Jesus, I'm gonna call you Edith like Edith Bunker. Your mother, who was she?"

"M.C. Delancey. Writer of both romance novels and mystery novels."

"No shit!"

"Scout's honor."

"How would you get rid of him?"

He had to know, he was more or less thinking to himself or trying to figure her out. Get a deeper more primal read on her.

"Let me see your hands."

"What? Why?"

"Gimme your hands."

Checking him over she was satisfied. This could be the very best thing she'd been compelled to do or the absolute worst lesson of her life. Either way, she was interested in knowing more.

'So is he.'

A familiar voice she couldn't quite place said in the back of her mind.

"I'd gut the sonofbitch like a fish and leave him where he drops."

Mike watched as her face changed, the soft lines gone hard and rigid. Her spring green eyes turning to cold deep grey pools of storm. She was a cold December day at sea. He could see her, proudly carved on the bow of a ship.

"Something tells me you're serious."

"Only about that. Other than I'm pretty much a calm person. You?"

"Drug him, shove him in a trunk and take him on a long ride out a very deep lake. Cement blocks help."

"Ooh..I like the way you think."

"We're insane."

"No...we're...sane adjacent."

"You're a pip ain't you, Murphy?"

"You've got no fucking idea, Caffee."

[jacks-tracks]

Covid March 2024

Covid? Really? After dodging this disease since it began through 4 countries , I got it on a mexican plane. Only one on the plane wearing a mask, which proves the conspiracy theory.. Masks give you Covid.

I had no symptoms until arriving in Corozal, then accelerating from a dry cough to sneezing, low fever, lethargy. Hard to tell lethargy from laziness, but the fever was the tell tale. Tested positive(hot red lines instantly 2 days in a row), rats. So, self isolate for 10 days from 1st symptoms, which may be more than needed, but folks here are mostly not vaccinated, so best be safe.

Luckily I'm staying in a little house, with hot plate, tiny fridge, and choice of fan or AC. Comfy bed, airy porch with Adirondack chairs, hot shower. Air B&B, and the landlady lives in the big house, so she checked on me daily. She runs a dog rescue center here, currently 6 dogs as well as her own fat German shepard and even fatter Staffordshire. These are all friendly dogs and I'm one of the pack, giving neck rubs and pets equally. like all tropical dogs, they sleep most of the day, saving up for the nightly barkfest, when all the dogs in the neighbourhood(and everybody has at least one dog) bark out the news, scaring imaginary thieves, making a racket and generally having dog fun. Earplugs.

Being sick away from home is boring. There,s nothing to do except watch old movies and veg out. I do have a food delivery service, ordering on Whats app and getting stuff dropped off by motorcycle courier. Small fee, and way easier than shopping my self in a series of tiny stores. I can get lots of fruit, especially citrus for vitamin C, and chicken fully frozen. All commercial chickens in Belize are factory produced and frozen. Sanitary I hope. Potatoes, onions, peppers, all are here. There is a tiny fruit stand one half mile down the road who had one of the best papayas I,ve ever tasted. So, eat, doze, internet. Sounds like a winter at home except it's 32 degrees.

Bloody hot,pretty humid, with a strong trade wind to stir the air. Days a re 12 hours long, with happy mosquitoes at night (screens) which means no sitting out in the tropical evenings. That's a travel agent myth. Everyplace I,ve been has mosquitoes, from Bali to Hanoi, Costa Rica to Mexico. That's how Dengue spreads as well as Malaria. Never had malaria despite so much tropical traveling, and never want it!

Corozal is flat, hot and boring. there are no beaches, just muck, and no scenic attractions. There are some tiny ruins, but having climbed most of the pyramids in CA, so what. Seems like a place where weary travelers crossed the Mexican border and stalled. Mostly blacks with some chinese, and an increasing population of Mexicans and central americans,. Supposedly an English speaking country, lots speak only Spanish, and the locals have an accent that needs google translate. Friendly enough, but crime is rife, and there,s no safe nightlife. A typical 3rd world mix of very poor and very rich with a thin layer of rising middle class. The traditional wooden homes raised up on pilings are being replaced by the more durable, bug proof cement block shacks. These vary from simple cubicles to 3 story palaces, depending on the owners wealth. The handyman here tells about earlier times when he had a Dory(rowboat) on the New river which divides Belize from mexico and had a thriving trade, moving bales of grass into Mexico and illegal immigrants into Belize. Boats would anchor offshore to drop off goods. Were there police? Yes, he said, but only 3 of them, and they wanted no trouble. Then came cocaine, big money, gangs, and cartels.Guns and gang wars. He quit in time, but now there are shoot outs, contract killings, and , trouble. Parts of the highway are no go zones at night, and chopped up bodies get dumped into the cane fields to be burned beyond recognition. Ugh!

I recall 20 years ago meeting a nice local guy in Placencia who had built some beautiful hardwood cabins for rent. Financed by bale fishing. What's that i asked? Drug runners chased by coast guard boats would dump their sealed bales of pot(50 pounds each), and locals would recover some for resale. my friend found 3, and sold the first one to the dealers for $5000. Second time they told him 2500,and when he brought the 3rd one they flourished guns and said he had to work for them. He said take this one for free and I no longer have a boat, goodbye.. Made enough cash to build his resort and retire. While we were chatting a gorgeous woman came bleary eyed out of the cabin, Miss Belize 3 years before. She was there with her boyfriend, shaved headed and wild eyed. Just out of Belize prison, one of the worst in the world. He did 4 years for manslaughter. Hey, my friend asked, how's Jimmy doing in there? Oh said Mr convict. He got the chop! What? Yah mon, we standing side by side in the morning count line when somebody behind him reach around and cut his throat. Nobody say nothing. Literally: Hey mon, how Jeemy do dere? Oh, heem. He done got da chop.Say wha? Yah mon, we all standin in da mawnin count line and some foker dey reach about and slash him troat. Nobody say nuttin, yo knaow?

I do meet interesting people! Makes covid sound like fun!

[the-letter-horror-lover]

Another Horse, Fiery Red by Javanne

Anime » Kuroshitsuji Rated: T, English, Drama & Supernatural, [Alan H., Eric S.] [Grell S., William S.], Words: 134k+, Published: May 28, 2021 Updated: Oct 27

3Chapter 49: A Slight Problem With the Plan

"Humphries! Where are you? I want you in the map room at once!"

Eric restrained himself from telling Will to leave Alan the hell alone during his rest shift. "He'll be at home, Will. We're off duty. Leave a message on his desk, or ask Cortland for help." He gathered up his newspapers and changed the subject.

"War's going to be over soon. The German attempt to deal with President Woodrow Wilson failed – they thought they could get easier terms from him. He refused to negotiate with the military dictatorship instead of an elected government. Demanded that the Kaiser abdicate. They rejected that, of course, and decided to keep fighting. But there's a revolution among their sailors, and they are at the end of their soldiers, and everybody's sick, so they will be forced to face reality soon. They'll have to open negotiations with the Allied generals. They'll have to accept terms which they will then blame on their political enemies. Might be an extra-large Death List on the last day."

"Really?" asked Will, distracted from his rant. "Shouldn't they draw their soldiers draw back and wait?"

Eric covered a yawn. "Should. Won't. They've all these artillery shells sitting around. It's easier to fire 'em off than pack 'em up and haul 'em away. Last chance to make a grand gesture, too. It supports political maneuvering at home for both sides. 'Our brave men fought to the last minute' and 'We bombarded the evil enemy into surrender.' Their civilians are sick, weary and ready for a change in government, you see."

"Ah. The generals are worried about their futures in peacetime?"

"Difficult for them, aye. They need to go home as heroes. The end of the war means that the power shifts from the military to the diplomats. Some generals will attempt to go into politics; but the change from command to cooperation is difficult for them. They tend to forget and start barking orders at people who can tell them to go get their own damn coffee. Unless they are setting up or preserving a dictatorship, of course. In many places, the civilian population will be gaining power as the soldiers are discharged. They will want change after years of forced service and hunger. They'll be going into politics too. In Germany there's already a movement to make all citizens equal under the law, abolishing the immunities and privileges of the nobility and aristocracy."

"That's all very well, but most of the officials enforcing that law will be aristocrats or in the pay of aristocrats. It's a nice gesture, I suppose."

"It's supported by anti-monarchial, anti-military political parties who are gaining power there. It's scaring the current management. But, as I've said, I'm off duty. I'm going home. See ye tomorrow, Will."

Slingby found four people in his parlor. Alan was in his reading chair, maintaining that grave expression that meant he had seen a gaping hole in somebody's pet theory. Smitty and Dutch were on the sofa. Sam was in Eric's chair with the reading light trained on his hands.

Smitty rubbed his neatly trimmed red beard. "It works. It does not harm Reapers, and it poisons demons. It's a contact poison; it only affects a demon if they touch a Reaper's skin. It provides evidence of assault, which is forbidden by various truces, treaties and Laws."

"Any report on the current condition of the demon?"

Sam, whose eyesight was slightly better than his partner's, was sewing up the tear in Dutch's glove. "We dropped by the Twa Corbies to listen last night. We heard a rumor that the demon is very ill. His compatriots are worried about it. If they can't complete their assignments they get demoted down to a little knot of malice. Takes them years to work back up to a coherent form."

Eric laid his newspapers beside his chair. "Hello, everyone. Sorry, Alan, sounds like you'll to have to educate a replacement demon in the Royal London. Any tea left in that pot? I'll rebrew."

He picked up the Brown Betty and went into the kitchen, fired up the kettle, unplugged the phone just in case Will remembered he'd been looking for Alan, and returned to the parlor with the steaming pot and a mug for himself. He set the pot on the low table to steep and fetched in a kitchen chair for himself.

"D'you read all those every day?" asked Dutch, indicating the newspapers. Sam cut off his thread with his Records scissors and attempted to surrender the chair to Eric, who politely waved him back down into his seat.

"I skim them all for information. Most of them are pretty heavily censored. All of them, for instance, are playing down or denying the pandemic. But I can learn from what the governments do and do not permit. If you read papers issued by both sides, the truth is somewhere in the middle. Ye can also learn what's affecting the populace from the advertisements. So, me lads, are ye well? What did the doctor say?"

"We were testing something Smitty's been playing with," said Sam. "We're fine. It's harmless to Reapers and has mostly worn off. Something about us being exposed to scythe metal ever since beginning at the Academy. Smitty thinks it may be useful after some tweaking."

"So ye're going to run about punching demons?" Eric set about filling mugs. He could tell Alan was upset, but not allowing it to show.

"Only if we want to. It's blood-borne. If they claw us, it gets all over them."

"I'm pretty pleased with it so far," said Smitty. "It's a variation on my own levels of contamination. I'm fine, so this lower level won't hurt anybody else. Just a little something to make the demons stand back a bit. It started as a repellant, requested by Supplies, who use it around delivery sites where demons are active. Supplies considers the personal contamination to be beneficial."

Dutch and Eric looked at each other and then looked at Alan expectantly.

"But Supplies personnel do not Reap. What effect does this toxin have on humans?" said Alan.

"Humans? Don't know. Does it matter? You deal with souls, not bodies. You are always gloved – oh. Ah. But that never happens. Does it?"

Alan covered his face with his hands, sighed, and dropped his hands back in his lap.

"Yes. Once, I was commanded to grant time and healing to a Human. Two of them, actually, a woman and her infant. So yes, it is possible, and even occasionally required. It requires the touch of an ungloved hand.

"One might wonder also if this toxicity will inhibit our ability to lend time and strength to each other, as we did when the Thorns curse was broken. I am not saying this new idea is a bad one, Smitty, only that we need to understand and adjust for all its effects. Will we also have to warn the Angels? They and the Fallen originally came from the same stock. The Entity Sandriel has granted some of us a healing touch. Would we poison him if he did that now?"

Smitty gave Alan a grateful look. "That's why I am so pleased you asked us to meet with you, sir. We welcome the hard questions. Thanks. We engineers get a little detached from the more obscure points of Reaping after a decade or two. In its current formulation, the toxicity wears off in three days. My general theory was that we'd treat the defense Reapers. Obviously we'll be revisiting that, as Sam picked up the toxin just from working with Dutch. For now, I'd say that if you needed to grant time to a human, you'd call for somebody who hasn't been exposed for three days. Four days for safety."

"Not enough. Doctor Collins detected it in both these men on the third day. And what might it do to an office Admin, whose exposure to scythe metal is much less?"

"Dosage can be controlled. We did consider the Admins' lower tolerance, sir. The Admins of Supplies have reported no problems. Anybody in Operations feeling off? Sam, Dutch, please ask around."

"I asked Brad," said Dutch. "Nobody went off their tea and crumpets. They never noticed."

Smitty said, "Back to the drawing board, obviously, and with a lot of new questions, that's good. I'll talk to the next set of Angels who come to pick up blades. They'll route me to their medical folks."

"I might have a more direct connection to Raphael's host," said Alan. "But humans? Smitty, it's important; you're right on the edge of defying the Law. This might make us incapable of performing some of our required duties. If so, I can't protect you from the Higher Ups."

"And it's too late to hide it; too many people know," said Eric. "We have to spread a better story, if it's not too late already. We can try to keep it away from Spears. Fortunately, he's completely involved with the pandemic staffing of India right now."

Alan's anger emerged from hiding. "Another thing, Senior Artificer and Engineer Smithfield. You will not experiment on my Reapers again."

"Volunteers only –" began Smitty. Alan cut him off.

"My office staff did not volunteer to be exposed to a highly volatile toxin which appears to spread farther and faster than expected. You could have taken down the whole Branch. We may have fielded two Reapers who were unfit for duty. You have exposed me to an investigation from Judicial for not reporting you immediately."

"Sir, I did not intend to endanger anyone –"

"Duty and the Law demands I should throw you to the wolves right now. Instead, I shall report an accidental and temporary contamination of a Reaper by a Scythes roommate. We can't conceal it completely. Collins' report has already been filed."

Smitty paled. Alan continued.

"This cover-up won't hold forever. I have enemies. Eventually I will be accused of conspiracy to conceal, so agree on your stories now. For instance, this meeting never happened, I know nothing of your project, and both of you are the victims of a simple mishap. Smitty, they may move you to an isolated single room with heavier shielding. Or, they may simply move Dutch out and decree that any roommate you take must be another Scythes employee. Dutch, Sam, tell Scheduling that you are confined to deskwork until cleared by Medical. Call Doctor Collins to make a daily appointment until he finds you completely clean. I will not allow you to Reap until he sends me that notification. Dutch, use that notification to resist being moved into another single room with no neighbors. And never admit that you knowingly came into work after exposure to whatever this is."

"Understood, sir."

"Smithfield, beware of excess enthusiasm and overconfidence. Find out exactly what this toxin does to Reapers, Humans and Angels. Document your findings thoroughly. Report only your conclusions to me. I do not want to know how or where you obtain your evidence. If I am not available, report to Avram. Eric, you and I and Avram will also request screening from Doctor Collins. We are the ones most exposed to Dutch and Sam. Oh, and Brad too. We'll have to ask him to refrain from discussing this over tea."

"Or only to spread our version?" asked Eric.

"No. He's an innocent witness. I won't make him a conspirator."

Standing in the hall outside the apartment door, Smitty said, "Dutch, I'm sorry. I did a stupid thing. I should have talked to Alan before we did any of this."

"I should have thought of the effects on granting time to Humans. It's rare, and I've never seen it, but I should have made the connection. Smitty, we're going to lose him. I need to talk to some people. We've got to minimize this every way we can. You'd better warn the other Engineers that there's a storm coming."

Inside the apartment, Alan said, "I will write my report tomorrow and calm Will down after he reads it. Sooner or later, he is going to find out that I've prevaricated. Not right away, but eventually. Someone will blab or send an anonymous letter. He will make an example of me. If the war is over and the pandemic is manageable – and he's worked hard to make it so – he won't need me anymore. He'll fire me in his rage, and I will leave."

"Me Light—"

"No, Eric, listen. Smitty will be safe enough. Scythes will defend him, especially since his research has yielded a real benefit to Supplies. If he and Dutch insist that they were unaware of an accidental contamination, Dutch should be safe as well. I need to ask Rosine and Chandless if they'll still be willing to hire someone who's been kicked out of his previous Branch and Academy. If not, they will still hire you."

"What, the Academy would fire you over this?"

"They can't have someone on staff who's been expelled by a Branch for covering up a major offense. They'll jump at the chance to get rid of me. I've been adding little truths to my teaching materials. Half the Ethics Department wants to kill me and steal my Field Guide to Demons. The other half wants to kill me and suppress my Field Guide. So yes, I will be sacked. The Field Guide will be seized, expurgated and published under another professor's name."

Eric paused. "Ye're laughing?"

Alan rose and pulled Eric into a hug. "I'm not losing anything I haven't already given up. If Will throws me out, it saves me from having to plan an escape. Frankly, this works better for us. Before Will can cool down, I will pack my duffel, travel to Chandless' Branch and move into the cottage they've offered us. Both Chandless and Rosine are going to love this. They're getting me at least a year early, and nobody is going to be demanding my return. I'll not start teaching regular classes until the next school year begins, but I'll give them my copy of my Field Guide and make myself available for guest lectures. I'll sleep for a week, plan a small garden for next spring, and ease into my Reaping responsibilities. You can bring your teapot and move in anytime you're ready."

"Do not go without me, Alan. If I wait to join you, it gives them the opportunity to track me. Better we leave no trace."

"That may not be possible, though. Will's not above waiting to banish me until you are safely out of the office. We'll plan for that."

Eric took his partner to bed and held him close when the laughter changed to silent sobs, and when the sobs faded into sleep.

50: Important Messages

Alan rose very early, reconnected the phone, and went into work to write his report. He left it on Spears' desk. He returned to his office, locked the door, and wrote three very important letters. He then called home to wake his partner.

Eric answered muzzily. "Me Light? Wherrr arr ye?"

"Time to get up, big man. Please come straight to my office. Try to get here before Will arrives. I need to run one short errand without anyone noticing. Scold me for skipping breakfast and announce that you're taking me to the Cafeteria. Run off anyone who wants to tag along."

"Important, is it? Grr, where's my shoe…"

"They're serving scotch eggs today," said Alan at his most seductive. "Scones. Doughnuts. Coffee."

"Arrr, ye cruel and heartless wee tempter. Right. Ten minutes."

Alan tucked the envelopes inside his vest and put on his jacket. He unlocked his door. Eric arrived just as Bradshaw did. "G'mornin', Brad. I'm buying Alan his breakfast today. We'll be back soon. Anybody who wants him can wait for a wee bit. Duncan, I'm on escort duty. Alan, come along now, you know the rules. Ye owe me three kisses fer dodgin' yer breakfast, and not just maidenly pecks either."

As they left the building, Eric said, "That'll hold 'em. They won't want to interrupt us smooching at the back of the Cafeteria. Because I'd wallop them and they know it. Where first?"

"The London Lab. I'll port us." —dzzipt—

"Ma'am, I have a letter for Manager Cole, which I am directed to personally lay on his desk. With your permission?"

"He's just come in, sir, one moment." Cole arrived, looked at Eric, looked at Alan, and waved them into his office. "Hold my calls, Miss Pearson."

Once the door was closed, Cole grinned. "What do you need?"

"Donnie, I very much need not to be here. I have to be in the Cafeteria before Director Spears tracks my glasses. Here's a letter explaining everything, and two more letters which need to be sent on to other people. Can you have a discreet underling take them to their destinations? I'll pay for the service."

"Want him to wait for replies?"

"Yes, please, if at all possible. The replies should go to my office at the Academy. There's a key in your letter. Post it back to me when you're done."

"Very well. Sounds like fun. Go on, get to where you need to be. I'll handle this."

Eric had his full English breakfast. Alan had a smaller plate. He wasn't at all hungry, which was just nerves. Eric made him eat most of it. They returned to their desks forty-five minutes late for the beginning of their shifts.

Fortunately Spears was, at the moment, in a telephone meeting with a number of foreign Directors, arranging the distribution of Reapers to countries worst hit by the pandemic. Waved off by Wójcik, Alan escaped to his office to gather his teaching and counselling materials. Bradshaw went over his schedule for the day. A disturbance outside was followed by a quick knock on the doorframe. It was ffoulkes, in considerable distress.

Kendall had died in India. Mountjoy, his partner of several decades, was missing. ffoulkes asked Alan to release him. "I owe it to my Mentor to find him and bring him back. I can't let him be declared a deserter. He's just lost his glasses. He probably hasn't gone far from the scene. He might have pursued the demon who attacked them. The quicker I can get there, the nearer he will be."

"Have you talked to Duncan or Mallory?"

"Yes. They can manage. They sent me to you for the final permission. Please, sir—"

"Granted. Where was he posted?"

"Punjab, sir. Amritsar."

"Pack your duffel and bring it to the War Room. I'll set up the portals. I have friends all along the way; we'll get you there as soon as possible. On arrival, set up a mail drop at the local Branch and inform me so I can forward your paycheck. I'll make some calls to folks in the area who might help. Take whatever's in petty cash; you'll be paying baksheesh. When you find him, bring him to Collins at the Academy and ask who's specializing in grief and burnout."

"Thank you, sir!"

By the time ffoulkes was back, Alan had a nine-portal relay set up and had spoken to the Director of Amritsar. Since the search was funded and staffed by London, Amritsar professed itself happy to assist a Reaper who was rushing to aid his elder and teacher. A Junior Reaper would be waiting to help ffoulkes with the local geography and customs.

A Thorns convalescent named Parkash volunteered to accompany ffoulkes to handle arrangements that might otherwise delay the search. ("They'd rob him blind, sir, and they don't like Brits at all. Bad history. I'll keep him safe and unswindled. Just let me get my duffel.") Admin and Security did a quick whip-round to add to the travel fund. Bradshaw wrote down a number of handy phone numbers and the portal settings on a bit of paper and tucked it into a drawstring purse along with the money.

The purse went into the duffel, ffoulkes and Parkash rushed through the portal, and the War Room quickly returned to standby status. When Will came out to demand what all the flurry was, Alan merely stated that he had begun a standard search for a Reaper reported missing in action.

Will looked around the War Room at a group of Reapers and Admins attempting to project an innocence none had actually possessed since earliest childhood. "Will I regret this, Humphries?"

"No, sir."

"If I ask about this, will I be forced to do something regrettable? Such as proscribe a seceder?"

"Perhaps, sir, it is better not to ask," said Senior Auditor DePoy at her coldest.

Will turned to see his ranking Admins – DePoy, Brock and Solway – aligned against him. He glared. "Humphries, my office."

"Sorry, sir. I must leave to teach. I will report back when my duties permit."

"Humphries!" But Humphries was gone. Wójcik quickly called Will's attention to his next meeting. Everyone else escaped. Duncan checked Alan's schedule and decided there was no need to send a bodyguard after him.

Alan taught two classes, met with his teaching assistants, dodged a delegation of professors who wanted an argument as long as they outnumbered him, and visited Collins.

"You have no contamination, but your blood pressure is high. You need rest. Eric and Senior Jacobs came by, they're clean. Slight traces on Bradshaw. Terry ditto. Ten Hagen is more affected. I've sent them off to the decontamination showers again, it does help. I told them to have Maintenance wipe down their desks, chairs and typewriter keys with whatever cleaning fluid Scythes uses. Bradshaw told me about ffoulkes; here's a list of alienists who can help Mountjoy; hope he's found soon."

Alan checked his watch and locked himself inside a study carrel at the PostGraduate Library. Will could have tracked his glasses, of course, but Alan was safe here. Two months previously, Will had barged in shouting for him. The Chief Librarian, all eighty-nine pounds of her, stopped him cold and marched him out, banning him from the premises. Alan had presented her with a pot of thyme (activity, courage, strength) and a handsome gift box of violetta di Parma scented soaps as a token of his gratitude and appreciation.

Alan slept in the carrel for an hour. It left him rumpled and aching, but ready for student counselling. He went to his office in Greyhame Hall. Several students were already lined up in the hallway. The delay of this year's graduation had given the students additional time to research the Divisions and apprenticeships available to them. Alan distributed referrals and letters of introduction to Seniors willing to grant tours and interviews. Bright kids, all of them. It benefitted the Realm to have them properly placed. Not everyone agreed, of course; many traditionalists on the faculty felt that anyone who wanted to work in the support services had to wash out of Collections first. Inefficient, really. Wasteful of time and talent, and lives.

After sending the last student off for a site visit and interview with Supplies, he sorted through his mail. Ah; three letters among the usual memos, flyers and notifications for faculty meetings. Bless Cole and all his works. He should return to the Branch to deal with whatever emergency had arrived in the last five hours. But if Will caught him, he'd have to endure a rant about his report of two Reapers' accidental contamination. Alan was not prepared to endure that rant.

Spears was not doing well in Grell's absence. Spears was, indeed, furious. He had been forced to deploy the Gupta/Vanderveldt/Sutcliff triad to India. Grell had welcomed being deployed, too, another irritation. The team of Slingby and Humphreys could have been sent instead, with Gupta in charge. But Alan was safe in London, due to orders Spears could not ignore. Spears' frustrated tirades now contained a note of personal enmity.

Eric was assigned field duty. Maybe Alan could suggest he drag Will along on his Reaps. Will needed a good fight or two. Eric could cheer him on and help if things got out of hand… because this latest nonaggression pact between the Celestial and Infernal Realms was not being observed by combatants in the Human Realm. The Angels couldn't be bothered, the Demons couldn't be stopped, and the Reapers could use a witness with Will's rank and connections. Reporting it upwards might distract Will from yelling at his subordinates.

Grell should return in two months. Oh, sweet buttered hell; what would Will be like after another two months without Grell? Because if Will started berating people who wouldn't tolerate it, who wouldn't wait him out and calm him down, there was going to be a bloody revolt. Caroline Cortland, for one, would probably toast marshmallows over his flaming corpse while the Admins danced around the fire.

Could he hold out until Grell returned? Would Will learn about the cover-up first? He gathered his courage. These letters would tell him if he was going to be homeless.

He would stay here and read these very important letters, which should never enter the Branch anyway. He would then go straight to his shift at the Royal London Hospital. Fortunately, Security agreed he did not need a partner when Reaping there; Dutch hadn't been cleared for duty and effie might not be back for days. Eric would meet him at shift's end. They could find a pub, eat, and hide these letters in the little box they rented in the Pawnbroker's safe. No office, no more Will until morning. As Avram would say; enough was too much already. Doctor's orders. Rest.

Mallory would assign him an escort tomorrow, to replace ffoulkes. Whoever it was would be competent or they wouldn't be working for Mallory. They'd lost a lot of people to foreign assignments, though. He might find himself further restricted for lack of personnel. That might work in his favor, actually.

No more delay. He opened the first, most important letter.

From: Geoffrey Chandless

Director of _ Branch

To: Alan Humphries

Senior Assistant Director, London Branch; Instructor (Ethics, Technique, Combat), London Academy

Esteemed Sir,

In reply to your query;

Our offer stands. You are more than welcome here at any time. Our Branch does not give the proverbial fig about the decisions of your archconservative and blinkered Management. We invite you and your partner, at your earliest convenience, to enjoy a site visit to our Branch…

Blinkered. Alan thought briefly of Will's glasses, the broad temples focusing his eyes straight ahead and blocking any information from outside that narrow path.

Your accommodation stands ready, adjusted to Climate Zone Cfb on the Köppen- Geiger scale. You need not even return to London if you find our offer acceptable. That is your decision alone, not ours and most certainly not London's. Professors Rosine and Talbot eagerly await the opportunity to welcome you both as well…

Oh, thank the Highest. Excellent. If Will banished him, he and Eric would not be homeless or subject to random assignment to opposite ends of the earth.

Alan opened the second letter.

From: Donald Cole

Site Manager, London Laboratory

To: Alan Humphries

Senior Assistant Director, London Branch; Instructor (Ethics, Technique, Combat), London Academy

Sir,

No problem at all. I can set things up in the Experimental area, where test runs are not tracked by the Monitors. If you plan on a short trial visit to this destination, may I suggest that you visit their Spectacles office for locally tracked glasses? I'm sure you can appreciate the advantages of a spare pair…or a spare scythe…

Oh. Just so. Clever Donnie.

And now the third letter.

From: Cecilia Rosine

Headmistress of _ Academy

To: Alan Humphries, Instructor (Ethics, Technique, Combat), London Academy; Senior Assistant Director, London Branch

Honored Academician;

We eagerly await your earliest arrival. Ours is a new and small institution, which has not copied the narrow and semi-abusive traditions of some older Academies. We intend that it shall become the most modern and inclusive of universities, producing not only exemplary Reapers, but exemplary Support personnel. We believe in making the best use of every student, according to their interests as well as our needs.

Your Field Guide to Demons in its most recent edition will be added to our curriculum immediately upon receipt. We have been using an old mimeographed version, kept from long ago at the London Academy. Be assured that we will not attempt to prune your syllabus, lectures or publications of uncomfortable or unfashionable truths.

Senior Slingby's many talents will also be most welcome as soon as he is available…

Hot coffee, dark roast, cream and no sugar. Come and get it, Sensei.

51: The Times Are Changing

November 10, 1918

Slingby spent the morning on Alan's phone. He'd borrowed Alan's office, as his own desk was in the Personnel bullpen; a noisy, busy place with far too many distractions. Alan had taken Bradshaw off to Bookkeeping and Supplies, leaving Eric to lock himself into as much privacy as the Branch could offer when all the meeting rooms were taken.

Moreau affirmed the signing of the armistice agreement in Compiégne, France.

"Early yesterday morning. Effective tomorrow, the eleventh day of the eleventh month at eleven AM local. They just can't forgo the drama, can they?

"It's exactly as you predicted at the beginning of all this. Both sides are at a standstill. The Germans can't win, but the Allies know that invading Germany to force a surrender would be far too costly. Therefore, an armistice to end the useless killing. The final peace treaty will be delayed because the winners have to agree upon its terms. Each country has its own agenda but all concur that they don't want Germany ever to be able to do this again. It's going to be nasty and counterproductive.

"Say hello to Gruber for me. Oh, and the winners are going to be celebrating. Mobs dancing in the streets and spreading the 'flu. Expect increasing death rates in the cities in the next couple of weeks."

Kaiser Wilhelm II and his Crown Prince, said Gruber, were out.

"Their abdications were announced yesterday without their consent. The Kiel Mutiny is now a German revolution. The Social Democratic Party has taken control.

"Wilhelm wanted to give up his Empire but remain King of Prussia, of course. Legally impossible even if the returning army would back him up. They won't. The country is going on without him.

"He's boarding a train for the Netherlands today. He's realized he can be arrested for war crimes if he stays where the Allies can get at him. He'll formally abdicate once he fully accepts that he can't go back. Meanwhile, Germany's declared itself a Republic and now has a civilian President. The citizens are tired of all the petty dukes, archdukes, princes and kinglets who led them off to war. Field Marshal von Hindenburg has stepped down and is letting Ludendorff take the blame. General Ludendorff is already insisting that the defeat is all someone else's fault. He'll invent a plot and pick a scapegoat. For more on Wilhelm, check with Peeters. He's in Amsterdam now. His number is…"

Peeters affirmed that Wilhelm had been granted asylum by Queen Wilhelmina of the Netherlands.

"The Dutch have maintained a strict neutrality throughout the war. The German army didn't commit atrocities there like they did in Belgium, so the locals aren't waiting to shoot him at the station.

"The Queen's not particularly fond of either Britain or Germany, both of whom tried and failed to bully her during the war. Did you know? Wilhelm once told her, 'My guards are seven feet tall and yours are only shoulder-high to them.' She replied, 'When we open our dikes, the water is ten feet deep.' Remarkable woman.

"But she'll protect him, especially after what happened to the Romanovs. For all his many faults, Wilhelm is family. He's a distant cousin of the House of Orange-Nassau. These noble houses are all related to one degree or another. He's forbidden to interfere in politics, of course. That might cause the Allied powers to accuse the Netherlands of violating their own neutrality. As long as he behaves, she'll refuse all demands to extradite him.

"Oh, Sayeed wanted to talk to you, but got swept into pandemic Reaping. Call his number and see who answers. Are you going to start up the London Gather again?"

Ben-Zvi in Palestine picked up the phone.

"Senior Slingby? Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir. Sayeed speaks very highly of you. He said you might want a political update when the war came to an official close.

"Damascus fell last month. The Ottoman Empire will be carved up by Britain and France. Both are supposed to prepare their new possessions for self-rule. Both intend to remain in permanent command of the Suez Canal and Iranian oil. Perfide Albion has promised Palestine to the Jews, to the Arabs, and to themselves. This is going to keep us Reaping for decades. I suppose it's always nice to know you're needed.

"Sayeed says Russia is going to be in need of borrowed Reapers for years. He suggests you talk to Professor Sergei Drozdov at the Novgorod Academy."

Professor Drozdov, sounding exhausted:

"At the moment, civil war. The Germans wanted to end the fighting on their Russian front, so in 1917 they rounded up some political radicals living in exile and sent them back home to join the February Revolution. It worked. Russia dropped out of the world war and imploded. The Red Terror and the White Terror are killing thousands, mostly civilians.

"Flu's just starting to spread, but we have cholera epidemics in several cities. Looking forward, I predict continuing political purges, terrorism, disease, famine, civil war, and wars of aggression against areas which have declared independence. By the Academy class sizes, there's no end in sight.

"Please warn your Director Spears that we may need to call upon him for Reapers after the influenza has passed. Not only for Reaping, but for mentors for the newly graduated. We may not have enough Seniors left to train our students properly. The Infernal Realm is very active here, treaties be damned. So to speak. Give my regards to Avram, please. Tell him the book he sent me is excellent."

To this, Eric added all that Grell had told him shortly before her deployment. They had shared a table and several drinks at the Scythe and Skull. She was annoyed at Will, who was not happy about having to allow her the foreign assignment she very much wanted, and was diverting herself by talking about changes in the Human Realm. She believed that it would be difficult to push the women back into the traditional roles centered on housekeeping, church, sickrooms and kids.

"We don't see it so much in our Realm, because gender doesn't limit our roles nearly as much. Because we don't breed like bunnies, we don't have enough Reapers to waste half of them by dismissing them as a lesser species. Ronnie, dear, can you get me another? Thank you, sweetie.

"In the human realm, male and female roles were strictly separated into spheres which did not intersect except at the table and the bedroom. The women were the property of the men. Anything they inherited, earned or owned passed into their husband's hands at marriage. The women were viewed by custom and law as helpless, unschooled dependents – and deliberately raised to be that way – who required masculine protection and direction in even the smallest decisions.

"Then the war began.

"Within a year the women were taking the jobs that men had left behind. One simply couldn't expect a woman to drive a car or ambulance while wearing skirts long enough to catch in the pedals. Hemlines rose. The Army nurses were given ugly boxy uniforms to make them unattractive to the patients and doctors, but those uniforms still had to be designed to allow the women to perform their duties. Then the manufactories had to permit women to wear overalls because skirts were dangerous on the assembly lines.

"The Army decided to create a Land Army to farm food crops on vacant acreage, completely forgetting that they had sent all the young farmers off to war. After a few outraged jeremiads, they had to grit their teeth and hire women. In trousers. Archconservatives, spraying spit and outrage, preached that the world would surely end. It didn't, darling, it never does; it only changes.

"Now pay attention, Eric dear, I know you're nodding off while I ramble. Do you need coffee? Because this is important. All of this signals a major social change in Britain. Other countries, too. You should include this in your next weekly report to Madame – you may not draw conclusions from it, but she will. It's going to affect politics in the coming years. The ladies want the vote. They've earned it. They feel they can hardly do worse than the men have done.

"The social contract has been broken. If the women have to be kept helpless, infantile and protected, then the men must provide that protection; that's always been the deal. But these men were not present to protect their families during very bad times. The women had to do all the 'unwomanly' things that only men were supposed to do, and discovered that they could do them well. They could earn money to support their children and dependent relatives. They could survive being bombed out of their homes. They could do business. They could earn respect and a voice in their own futures.

"The money a woman earns has been hers by law since 1870. Only tradition teaches that the women's property belongs to their men. That tradition is on its way out. The social contract is being rewritten. The genie is out of the bottle.

"The men who could not protect their women also could not confiscate their pay to spend on drink or gambling or whores or get-rich-quick investment schemes. Thousands of women are working for pay that stays in their own pockets. They like it. And that is fortunate, for nearly seven hundred thousand British men will never return to their sweethearts and wives. Those women will have to support themselves or they and their children will starve.

"The maid in the great manor who slaved nineteen hours a day and was forbidden to marry has gone to the city or the factories. She will get better pay for fewer hours, build a life and wed as she pleases. There has been a steady migration of employable women away from the rural areas. There is also going to be a servant problem in all households unwilling to compete in this new reality.

"The men returning from war have seen Paris. They may not want to go back to farming someone else's land or mining someone else's coal. And think of all the butlers and footmen who are returning as noncommissioned or even commissioned officers – will they be willing to go back to being servants? If so, what if the grand houses they left are now hospitals or schools or being sold for taxes after the master and his heirs all died in the war? The roads built for moving war matériels will also allow people who have never left their villages to widen their horizons and marry outside their tiny communities. There will be fewer village idiots; there may be fewer villages.

"The soldiers are expecting to come home to the same world they left. Instead, they will find destruction, disease and rationing. They will also find self-sufficient wives and sisters and girlfriends who will reject their governance and go out dancing if they damn well want to. In its way, it is another revolution."

Eric gathered his notes, laid them out in order, rearranged them and rearranged them again. He gazed out Alan's window at the ice-slicked wall of the building next door. This report he would type at his own desk, in full view of all, just another of his weekly reports to Madame Administrator. He'd deliberately shared a few of the old ones around, to demonstrate that they were utterly boring synopses that interns could be trusted to handle.

He knew that there was a rumor going around about Alan wanting a new start somewhere else. Best not to feed it by appearing secretive.

With Grell on foreign duty, the rumor would not reach Spears quickly. Anton Wójcik was strictly business. The other likely source, Knox, had recently received a thundering scold from Spears when Alan had not been around to defuse him. It had put a cool distance between the two for the last few days.

The war would be officially over before noon tomorrow. Very important to the humans of course, but barely noticeable to the Reapers. It would be lost in the overwhelming pandemic. The deaths from illness outnumbered the war dead already.

If the war was over, did his agreement with Madame Administrator still hold? If thousands were dying in a place that was not a battlefield, could Alan be sent to serve? If thousands were dying along an expanding front that was not a battlefield, even if the death rate was comparable or greater, would she withdraw her protection from a man who had already given her all the insights she needed?

Would it matter? This, Alan could handle. He had handled it in the flu epidemic of 1899, quite well actually. As long as they came together at the end of the day, they would both be fine.

Eric would have trusted Madame, before she used him to stop an enemy. Used him in a way that was harmful to Alan and himself. Used them both. Risking their lives and sanity without warning. Necessary, she said; vital, not to her but to the Realm. Perhaps that would count in Alan's favor, the next time he did something the Realm didn't like. Which would be soon, inevitably.

Will was—hah. Will was almost as crazy as Eric would be if Alan was away on a foreign assignment. Will was Reaping with Eric now, patrolling around the big hospitals. Their primary duty was to Reap the humans who did not reach the hospital before expiring or were turned away for lack of room. These places attracted the predatory demons, but were heavily enough defended to keep most of them outside in the streets. Will was targeting these prowlers while Eric Reaped. Will tended to rush his attacks, not pausing to check for demons in hiding. Eric had bailed him out of two fights with apparently single demons who had actually been roaming with larger groups. It did seem to make him a wee bit more restrained in the office. But only a bit.

Eric reminded himself twice daily that he and Alan owed their lives to Will, who had sold himself to save them. But as things were going, he and Alan needed to get out before Will killed them both.

Therefore, until such time as Alan was ready to leave, or was forced to leave, these reports would continue. He would follow the peace process, which looked like an undeclared war among the Allies. Eric thought it would lead into another major war in twenty years – it would take that long to raise and train a new generation of soldiers while the governments formed and settled and switched alliances back and forth.

That should keep Alan safe for as much as a year while negotiations continued. In a week he and Alan would use their day off to visit the Branch and its nearby Academy which had offered them jobs. There they would leave the manuscript for Alan's book, copies of all of his lecture materials, and most of their spare cash.

The Pawnbroker had given them a letter of introduction to a colleague there who was expanding into safe deposit boxes. "He thought about banking, as well, but says it's too dangerous to get into the Human side of that business. No investing there either, unless you have the time to pay close attention. You have to be ready to pull out fast when the market starts looking a bit overripe. He's expecting a peacetime bubble which will end badly. Ten fat years, ten lean years. He reminds me of you, Slingby, predicting trouble in the future. I suggest you listen carefully to anything you can get him to say. Never invest more than you can afford to lose."

Eric thought about that for a moment. The next twenty years were going to be…interesting. From a safe distance. Ten fat years to get over the war. Ten lean years to make the next war inevitable. Twenty years altogether, to let people forget what the last one was like. Different experiences in different countries to make different theories of national advancement.

Suddenly he was very tired. But then Alan came back from his meetings, and the room was somehow brighter.

52: Mountjoy and Kendall

Alan returned as Eric gathered up his notes.

"Eric, I have good news. The Print Shop is printing a new edition of my Field Guide to Demons, for the general population of Reapers. They sent me to Auditing for an explanation of copyright and royalties."

"Aye, it's a valuable resource. It's good to make it available to everyone. Which also means if the Academy publishes its own edition they'll get nailed for plagiarism, right?"

"Yes. Even if they credit a censored version to the professor who bowdlerizes it. Like, 'based on notes by that semi-literate field hand, Reaper Umbees. Edited and corrected by that noble pedant, Respected Academician With Tenure and Without an Original Thought or Practical Experience Since Noah Gave Up Sea Travel, Professor Strabismus Stultus Fogy-Mossbrain'. Oh, stop laughing. They are perfectly capable of doing just that if their Legal Department doesn't catch them at it."

Eric moderated his cackles to a chuckle. "Aye, they would. Hope they try. It would make DePoy's whole year. Mine too. They'll be expecting you to make a written complaint they can pigeonhole. I can just see their faces when their Legal Team—all one of him—informs them they're named in a lawsuit from the London Branch Auditors."

"Revision was my main worry, actually, more than having it suppressed. I really don't want it rewritten by a conservative hack who has never left the Academy since his final exam. Mythology presented as facts. Imagine insisting that a bat demon has ichor instead of blood, when any cave or mineshaft Reaper knows better. Both Supplies and Auditing were giggling about that. If the Academy wants to use the book they'll have to buy the uncut version from London. It's a huge relief."

"Can ye make them let ye use it for yer own classes?"

Alan sobered. "I can't make them provide it with the other class materials. But they can't make me stop handing it out to my students free of charge; not unless they want to risk a public discussion that might cost them dearly. It won't be an issue until the Academy resumes its full-time schedules in 1920. By then, someone else may be teaching those classes. In which case, not my problem."

"And the Print Shop will pay ye?"

"They already have. Avram sold most of the extras from the first edition. It paid off my debt to them for the first printing. They say they'll send me some of the new ones to give away. I asked them to pay a bonus to the Admin who did the artwork, too, and they agreed. They have a pre-order from Cambridge already."

"What's the Branch's share of this arrangement?"

"The profits will be divided between Supplies and Collections, which pleases Will no end. He was downright pleasant this morning. I'll get a small royalty for each book sold. Dorrie says it's a sweet deal for London. She'll renegotiate once we've built up a demand from other Academies. Someday I want to write another Guide on the deep-water fiends that do battle with Maritime."

"Congratulations, me Light. Ye'll have money coming in."

"Oh, not really. If I get anything, it'll probably be just enough to buy you a drink. I'll drop the change into Op's petty cash drawer. We cleaned it out to finance ffoulkes' search for Evan Mountjoy, poor man. I like Evan, and I liked Nicholas Kendall. We've claimed Nick's body for burial in our own cemetery. That might be a problem. Amritsar's being a little evasive on the subject. Still no word from Singh or ffoulkes."

"Och, Mountjoy will be found. He may even get past his shock and return on his own. It happens. Don't fret, me Light. He'll be noticeable as a foreigner, so he'll leave a trail that Parkash and the Indian Junior can follow. Gorman has the scythes tracker. Effie's smart enough to let the experts take the lead while he guards their backs."

"A trail that the locals should have already followed," said Alan. "Too busy, I guess. They can't leave their Lists, which must be overwhelming."

"Aye, nae doot. Stay by, they'll be back soon."

The problem was immediately noticed in Scythes, of course, whose tracking mechanisms were the best in the Realm.

"Senior Johns, have you a moment? This is very worrying. There has been a sudden handover of equipment; a scythe, an Angel blade and a mobile tracking device. All are registered to Junior Gorman. He's in India on special assignment, hunting a lost Londoner. The equipment has not changed location, but the possessor is not Gorman. May we ask supplies if they can track his uniform? It's probably too far away, but we can try boosting their signal. And his glasses, if the Monitors can spare someone to search. But the glasses won't tell us whose face they're on."

"But it will tell us if the glasses are in the same location as our equipment. Thank you, Saunders. The Reapers working with Gorman are Ephraim ffoulkes and Parkash Singh. Ping their scythes. I think you'll find they are together. Monitor them all and record their movements."

Johns called Senior Richards of Supplies. "Marge, we have a problem. May we borrow your best tracker? There's an anomalous Reaper working far out of your normal tracking range…India, northwest end… we can boost your signal...really? Congratulations on getting that done. One of ours, Junior Scythes Agent Gorman, is working with Londoners named ffoulkes and Parkash to find a missing man. Our equipment is reporting that the person holding it is not the person to whom it was issued… Well, of course we do. Think of the alternatives if our blades fall into demonic or human hands…Thanks. Please tell me what you find."

Spectacles was a little less helpful. "Quite out of our range. We've been working on extending it, but really, only to the limits of the country. We transmit our codes to the cities the Londoners are posted to, but it's up to them to track them. India? Yes. ffoulkes? Too recent, hasn't been requested yet. Well, if he's only visiting…And we weren't notified about Gorman either, so really not our…yes, sir, at once, but it could take a week for the locals to get around to adding it to their system, and we have no control over that. Now if you have anyone else in the area who wears London glasses with the tracking feature, of course they could pick up… oh, about a mile, perhaps, unless you're talking about an upper manager..."

Johns carefully disconnected the call before he began swearing. After a short philippic and a long breath, he dialed again. "Saunders. Is Gorman's tracker still with the rest of his equipment? Good, and is the rest of his equipment continuing in close formation with that of Parkash and ffoulkes? Right. Get me an engineer. One of the more practical ones. Smithfield by preference, and tell him I want his expertise over here right now. Code Four."

The phone rang. It was Senior Richards.

"Joe, we have tracked Mr. ffoulkes and Mr. Prakash. Whoever is with them is not wearing young Gorman's uniform. We can't track this third person, so the uniform is counterfeit and covered by a detailed glamour with a don't-look-too-closely component. Gorman's uniform, I regret to say, has been destroyed. If he is still alive, he might have been stripped and dumped into the Human Realm. I could begin a search, but I don't want to disrupt other searches already in progress. May we consult with Collections?"

"Yes, at once, and I think in person. D'you think Gorman's been replaced by a demon?"

"I suppose they might have found a way to suppress the smell of brimstone. More likely to be a Reaper in demonic employ, though. In which case, there's probably a gang of demons planning to rush the Portal when the rescue party comes home. Supplies sees a lot of that. Let me call Spears. Exposure to Madame has taught him to be marginally more courteous to females than to other males. You call Humphries and ask him to put their Security on alert. Then a meeting in Spears' office."

Fortunately Duncan and Mallory were both in the area. Alan called them into Spears' office, where Richards and Johns told them what they suspected.

"Definitely a rogue Reaper," said Duncan. "Even upset about his Mentor, concentrating on the hunt, effie'd never miss a demon substitution. But Gorman is a perfect stranger and was likely replaced fairly early in the search. The tracker gadget is obviously easy to use. The rogue is actively helping with the hunt, so I think we can assume he wants to stay with the team and return here with them. Not to go much farther than the War Room, though. He probably doesn't know London Ops and definitely doesn't know Scythes. His act won't last long among people who know Gorman."

"Perhaps he applied to work here and got as far as a site visit before being rejected," offered Alan. "He might be familiar with the Operations layout, especially Personnel. Could he be hoping to be met by a Scythes superior who's not very familiar with Gorman? One who might lead him back into their area? Could he have a contact there?"

"Possibly. We do know that a demonic contract has been issued for Smithfield," said Johns. "Not the same department of the Division, but he mightn't know that. After all, he's obviously unaware that we'd know the minute the scythes and tracker changed ownership, especially all together as a unit."

"I think we're looking at a portal invasion," Mallory said. "We should prepare for one, at any rate; get the noncombatants safely out of the way, activate the defense systems. Pull in every able defender we can, be ready to look unthreatening as soon as ffoulkes asks to return. Should be within the next hour or so if Scythes' tracking is involved. The impostor will let our folks come through with anyone injured. He'll lag behind, pretending to cover their retreat, but actually delaying the closing of the portal. The demons will rush around him and carry him through."

"We want to nail the imposter immediately," said Johns, "disarming him, cancelling his access to his own scythes. He must not port away or run back through the portal."

Duncan smiled. "Then we send the demons into our traps. Maybe warn the Angels so they don't come blundering in and make it worse."

"Or get one or two here under glamours," suggested Richards. "If they lay a finger on our rogue, he'll have to answer any question with perfect truth. Supplies has done that before, and you'd be using our confinement rooms anyway to hold this little traitor. We need to find out what he did with Junior Gorman."

Alan added, "We'll need to get Mountjoy medical attention right away, too, if they've found him – drag him out of the War Room into the First Aid Room as soon as he arrives."

A quick knock on the door heralded Eric. "Alan, Smitty's here. He's talking to Dutch and Sam about some defense options he developed for Supplies. They'll guard him from attack. I've warned Medical to stand by for injuries – I feel a brawl coming. Will, I think we should fort up."

"I agree. We are overdue for an unannounced drill. At the least we shall have the practice. At best, we shall be ready to repel an invasion. While I agree that Senior Smithfield is a possible target, I believe it is far more likely that the demons want the War Room itself. They want its interlocking portals and the experts who operate them. They will attempt to clear and occupy the entire building. We must confine them to this floor. Mister Brock, you and your combatants will notify the chief officers of the other floors of this building that we are running a full alert and drill, responding to reports of a possible attack. Tell Maintenance to be ready to seal the entire structure from roof to basement if they detect demonic presence. I shall notify Madame Administrator. Senior DePoy, Senior Solway, sound the alarm and begin your processes."

As the last of Solway's Admin noncombatants left for the fortified areas behind Operations, Senior Auditor Dora Depoy pulled a switch in her office. There was a groan and rumble that reverberated throughout the ninth floor. With a solid boom, the huge filing cabinets that stretched from floor to ceiling pivoted sideways and locked into a three-foot-thick impenetrable wall. Admin and Ops were now completely separated. The rolling staircases that allowed access to the top drawers had been laid down on the floor to provide obstacles; desks had been shoved in among them. All were angled to send invaders towards the back of the building. At the farthest end of the room a portal sprang into life. On its far side an alarm sounded.

An Admin ran to lock the doors that sealed the Reapers' offices and bullpens away from Operations. The Reapers on the other side had already sent their trainees through the escape portals and sealed them. They assumed defensive positions.

Dorrie summoned her scythe, the standard Smithfield Supplies Mark III which had been issued to all the Operations Admins who had passed a certain level of combat training. Brock, Solway and Holman joined her. Bradshaw locked all office doors on the right wall; Wójcik locked Spears'. They joined the Reapers waiting outside the War Room wall.

None of this could be seen from within the War Room while its doors were closed.

Senior Johns came to stand by Alan. "I'm going to concentrate on our pretender. We want him alive and talking. D'you have a closet I can stuff him into until the fight's over?"

"Oh, yes. Brad? Show Senior Johns the broom closet. In fact, please stand by to lock it before rejoining the fray. Sir, we cannot prevent the man from porting away, though, if he can summon a dropped scythe."

"He's not going to be summoning anything. Mister Bradshaw, show me this closet and the First Aid room, please."

Half an hour later, a long-distance call came from Lahore. "Alan, can you set the portals? This end's having some problems with the waypoints. Expect five persons. We're bringing Kendall as well as Mountjoy. He's alive. Warn the nurse, both are injured."

"Five minutes, be ready. Medical is waiting. Good job, effie."

The portal hummed and glowed. There were chimes as the waypoints aligned. One was a little reluctant to activate; Alan slapped the console and hissed, "There's an Engineer in the next room. Work, or you're scrap." The waypoint came online at once with a slightly embarrassed ding.

Eric, over by the wall, grinned. "Ye need to get Will to approve enclosing the console to protect the operators. Miller's never going to forgive ye for shooing him out."

"You're right, I should have thought of that long ago. Tomorrow, maybe. Ready, everyone?"

"Ready," said quite a few enthusiastic voices from inside and outside the room. The usual number of Security officers stood along the walls. Two nurses and four orderlies stood by with stretchers. Senior Johns had tucked himself into the corner by the portal's edge. Eric was present as the titular head of Personnel, waiting to check up on his employees. Nothing that would make Parkash and ffoulkes start in surprise and possibly tip off the imposter that things were not as they should be. Outside the doors, Senior Richards had stationed Smitty with a few of her Supplies defenders, all wearing heavy backpacks with wands.

Alan opened the portal.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

A Flower's Father

Pairing: Dilf!Bucky Barnes x Teacher!Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: none this is so beautifully fluffy

Genre: fluff- just fluff

Summary: Bucky's daughter has some thoughts on his social life and thinks her teacher can help

***

You're humming along softly to the music coming from your laptop as you straighten up the front of your classroom.

"Oh miss y/l/n!" You hear the bright voice of the last student in your class.

"Oh miss Liiiiily!" You spin around to face her as you reply in the same sing-song voice she used to call you. The young girl in your third grade class has wavy brown hair and bright green eyes, her face is littered with freckles and there's a small gap between her two front teeth.

"I finished putting away the books by the reading circle, and I pushed all the chairs and I put back the markers by-"

"Woah there- correct me if I'm wrong sunshine but I do believe I only asked you to clean up the reading circle."

"You did but then I saw more stuff I could do so I did that too- is there anything else I can help with?" She blinks up at you, smiling brightly.

"You have done more than enough for today Lily, you're an exceptional little helper. Thank you." You finally stand up straight when you notice shifting by the door. In the doorway stands a tall man with a leather jacket and gloves on. It's not nearly that cold yet and you subtly step forward to put yourself between the stranger and your student. "Hello, can I help you with something?" You ask. He blinks at you and gestures towards Lily who finally goes-

"Daddy!" She yells hopping in place.

"Oh! You must be Mr. Barnes then. I'm y/n- I don't believe you were at parents' night."

"Daddy doesn't like talking to people- except me and uncle Stevie and uncle Sam." Lily tells you. "Daddy this is my favoritest most bestest teacher ever." She tells him.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are sweeter than sugar little miss Lily?" You ask her with a smile.

"You do!" She giggles.

"Well at least someone says it." You wink.

"See daddy isn't she great?" She looks at him. You clear your throat.

"Lily why don't you go grab your backpack so daddy can take you home and I'll see you in the morning okay?" You ask bending to do your short secret handshake with her. Low five, high five, back hand, back hand, fist bump. She runs over to her cubby and grabs her bag before running over to her dad.

"Bye miss y/l/n! See you tomorrow!" She calls as her dad grabs her hand. You wave back smiling at her as they leave without her dad saying anything. You frown a little at the interaction. He seems to be his daughter's total opposite. While she's talkative and friendly he's quiet- probably awkward around new people. No wonder he's never come in to pick her up before today.

Meanwhile Bucky spent the entire interaction absolutely losing his mind. He finally met the teacher that made his little girl excited for school every day and he couldn't utter two words to you! Nothing he wanted to say felt right, and before he could even finish processing his options his ever talkative daughter had managed to brand him a socially inept loner with only two friends.

~

As you're finishing up the last of your lesson the final bell for the day rings.

"Oop- alright everybody pack up, gather your things! Make sure to write down the homework before you leave! Oh! Remember to-" you stop for a second when you hear a knock on the door frame. You glance back to see a large blond man. "Uh remember to bring your workbooks tomorrow!" You finish and turn your attention back to the man. "Hi, sorry, how can I help you?" You ask smiling at him.

"Oh don't worry about it. I'm just here to pick up Lily." The man tells you.

"Lily? Sorry- uh can I get your name?" You ask.

"Sure! Steve- Steve Rogers."

"Alright, if you'll just give me a second- I have to check that you're authorized to pick her up since you're not her father, Mr. Barnes or Mr. Wilson who I believe gets her most days."

"Mr. Barnes? You mean Bucky? Man, it's been a while since I heard anyone call him Mr. Barnes." Steve chuckles, following you to your desk where you check who is on file to pick up Lily.

"Does he not go by Mr. Barnes? He didn't correct me when I met him before- oh geez. I hope that didn't bother him. I wish he'd said something if he wasn't comfortable with that."  You frown. Your frown deepens when Steve laughs.

"No wonder Lily likes you so much." Steve muses.

"I'm sorry?" You tilt your head at him.

"Lily talks about you a lot. You're even sweeter than she says is all." He shrugs. You flip through your cabinet as you respond to him.

"Ah- Lily's a wonderful girl. Anyway your name is here so- you're good to take her home. Thank you for understanding all the protocol." You smile at him.

"Hey I get it. I think it's great that you check these things. It makes me feel good knowing my niece's school takes her safety seriously. I know it makes Bucky feel better too." Steve nods. You quickly grab something on your desk and hold it out to him.

"Oh can you- pass this off to Mr. Barnes? The third and fourth graders are going on a trip to the zoo and each class needs two parent volunteers." You explain.

"And you want Buck to volunteer?" Steve asks with a curious smile.

"Lily wants him to! Actually she kind of insisted I at least ask." You say. Steve leans down to look at Lily who's standing next to him.

"What are you plotting little flower?" Steve asks her.

"Nothing. I just wanna go to the zoo." Lily shrugs innocently. Steve stands to his full height.

"He doesn't have to chaperone if he really doesn't want to as long as he lets me know soon enough to ask someone else." You add.

"I'll pass on the message." Steve says.

"Thank you, have a good day. I'll see you on Monday Lily." You say waving at them both as Steve walks Lily out of your classroom.

~

"Chaperoning?" Bucky deadpans looking from Steve to his daughter.

"Apparently Lily insisted her teacher at least ask." Steve says smiling as he leans against his hand on the island.

"What are you up to Lily?" Bucky narrows his eyes suspiciously at his daughter.

"That's what I asked her." Steve says looking at her.

"Nothing! But you do totally need more friends dad." She shrugs.

"Oh do I? And I should be looking for those friends on your zoo field trip? You want me to be best friends with your teacher?" Bucky cocks an eyebrow.

"It doesn't have to be my teacher, there will be other adults. Parents, the other teachers- although if you pick a teacher mine is definitely the best." Lily says making Steve laugh in spite of himself.

"Lily- I don't need your help making friends okay." Bucky tells her.

"Tell that to your two person social circle." She shrugs as Steve can't hide the way his mouth drops open.

"Okay- that's enough of that. You're not hanging out with Sam anymore." Bucky scoffs.

"Fine but you're gonna need his help if you wanna get my teacher to like you. Uncle Stevie can't help you, he's just as bad as you are." Lily says skipping out of the kitchen.

"Now why am I getting attacked?" Steve blinks.

"Who said anything about trying to get your teacher to like me you rugrat?!" Bucky yells after her.

"Buck you crushin on Lil's teacher? I mean she's fine but- since when are you like that?" Sam chuckles strolling into the kitchen.

"You know me giving you a key for emergencies doesn't mean you can just bypass knocking when I'm home. And I'm not crushing on Lily's teacher." Bucky says.

"Lily told her teacher to ask Bucky to volunteer for a field trip." Steve says.

"She thinks I need to expand my social circle- a notion I'm sure she picked up from you." Bucky points at Sam.

"Hey if the shoe fits Cinderella- be back by midnight." Sam laughs.

"She also thinks you are going to help Bucky get Miss y/l/n to like him." Steve says.

"I've met the woman once I don't know where Lily got the idea that I'm trying to get her to like me. I mean you pick her up the most."

"Lily's a smart girl. I guess something in that one introduction told her something you didn't notice." Sam shrugs.

"That's ridiculous." Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Well- if you don't wanna volunteer I could get behind going." Sam jokes.

"Shut up. I'll go. But I'm going because Lily wants me to. Not because of her teacher."

"If you say so man." Sam chuckles.

~

You clap your hands from the center of the classroom to get the kids' attention as you walk to the front.

"Alright kids settle down- we're about to start loading the buses." You call out.

"Am I late? I- had to run back home and grab Lily's lunch." Bucky says slipping into the classroom.

"You made it just in time. We're about to get them on the buses. Mr. Barnes this is Alexander's mom Ms. Louis. Ms. Louis this is Mr. Barnes he's Lily's father." You introduce the two parents.

"Hello Ms. Louis." Bucky nods.

"Oh- please- call me Dalilah." Ms. Louis says with a slow drawl that you pretend not to notice as you suppress a chuckle.

"Uh- how can I help, Miss y/l/n?" Bucky turns his attention to you.

"Right now we have to get the kids lined up and outside so- oh here's an attendance sheet for the kids in my class." You say handing him a clipboard.

"Cool. Thanks."

"Everyone get in line so we can get on our bus." You put your hand up as you walk to the door for them to line up. Once everyone is in line you do a quick headcount before leaving the classroom with Bucky and Dalilah near the middle and end of the line respectively.

"Are we going to be the only class on the bus?" Bucky asks you as you load the students.

"Oh- no there's two third grade classes and two fourth grade classes with 20-25 students each so we'll be sharing the bus with the other third grade class." You explain.

"And at the zoo? How are we dividing the students?" He asks.

"We're just going to move as a class- that's why we needed 2 parents per class. 20 students and 1 teacher is a bit much." You say.

"Oh- that makes sense, yeah." Bucky nods.

"Mr. Barnes- you should sit beside me on the bus." Ms. Louis says not so subtly placing her hand on his shoulder and you once again have to stifle a laugh.

"Uh- sorry I have to talk to Miss y/l/n about one of Lily's tests. It would probably be easier if I sat with her." Bucky says awkwardly, sliding away from Ms. Louis.

"Maybe on the way back then?" She bats her lashes at him as you slip away to get on the bus behind the last of your kids.

"Uh maybe." Bucky says scrambling onto the bus and into the seat you're standing next to.

"Make room kids, Miss. Conner's class will be joining us on this bus okay everyone." You tell them, settling in beside Bucky for the bus ride to the zoo. Once the other class is on the bus and the fourth graders have been loaded on their bus your ride to the zoo is about twenty minutes long.

"So, are you excited Mr. Barnes?" You ask once the bus has left the school.

"To watch a bunch of kids at the zoo?"

"Well- yeah sure. The zoo is nice- even with 20 eight year olds."

"I don't usually do the chaperone thing." He tells you.

"Ah- well I'm sure you'll be fine. After all Lily seems to think you'll totally kill it. Plus I'll be around the whole time so all you have to do is help me not lose any kids." You joke.

"Is that a problem you've had often on field trips?" He blinks at you.

"No- that was a joke. I'm actually pretty good at not losing kids thank you very much. But two sets of eyes are better than one Mr. Barnes."

"Bucky." He says.

"What?"

"Call me Bucky. No one- calls me Mr. Barnes." He explains.

"Oh- okay. Bucky." You nod.

When you arrive and the group of children are off of the busses you take a moment to get their attention.

"Alright kids find your parent volunteers! They should be wearing the same colored shirt as you!" You shout over the group of kids before walking over to the other teachers.

"Ah field trips- what an experience." Ms. Thomas muses.

"Okay so it's 10:30 now- we meet at the pavilion at 12:30 for lunch and get everyone back on the buses by 1:30, 2?" You ask checking your watch.

"Sounds like a plan." Ms. Adams nods.

"Okay everyone knows what route they're taking then?" You ask.

"Yep." Miss. Conner nods.

"In that case, we'll see each other at lunch then." You say walking before back over to your class.

"Everything good?" Bucky asks you.

"Oh- yeah we were just going over the itinerary." You tell him as you do a headcount of your students.

"Ms. Louis did attendance while you were talking to the other teachers." Bucky tells you.

"Oh- thank you. Alright kids we're going to head this way!" You clap walking towards one of the paths. Your path starts with the primates. From there you and your students see the big cats and then the pandas. The reptile house interests some of the kids and freaks out some of the others so you allow some of the kids to wait outside with Ms. Louis. Then you pass the birds where everyone gets excited watching the flamingos and toucans in their habitats. You hit the aquatic animals after that and the kids get to catch the penguins getting fed which is obviously entertaining for all of them. By the time you've made it through most of the zoo it's about time to start going to the pavilion for lunch so from there you head to meet the other classes for lunch.

When you get to the pavilion Miss. Conner is already there with her third-grade class and Ms. Adams has made it too. By the time you've settled your class at some of the lunch tables, Ms. Thomas has also arrived with the last group. Before you can grab a seat Miss Conner snatches you over to where she and Ms. Adams are already sitting with their lunches.

"I've been dying to ask you all day who is that fine man in your group y/n?" Miss. Conner asks.

"You mean Mr. Barnes? He's a parent. There's his daughter Lily." You explain.

"You have to give us more than that!" Ms. Adams says.

"Is he married?" Miss. Conner asks.

"Single?" Ms. Adams adds.

"Divorced?" Ms. Thomas chimed in.

"Well I think he's not married. I've never seen a ring and Lily's emergency contacts are two men who are also very attractive. She calls them uncle Stevie and uncle Sam. One of them picks her up most of the time. There's never been a woman to get her and Lily's never mentioned a mom so-"

"So he's single?" Miss Conner squeals.

"I did not say all that. He's very quiet I don't know much about him in all honesty. Lily claims he's not exactly the social type." You tell the others.

"He's getting pretty social with your other volunteer right about now." Ms. Thomas chuckles. You glance over your shoulder and sigh.

"Ms. Louis has been flirting with him all day and he's obviously super not comfortable with it. It's like the woman can't take a hint." You drop your head.

"You might wanna go rescue him Y/n." Ms. Adams snickers.

"At this point, I'm quite tired of her myself. I'll catch you later." You sigh standing from the table with what's left of your lunch to save Bucky.

"I just think it's so rare for dads to volunteer for field trips. I'd expect Mrs. Barnes to be here honestly Mr. Barnes." You catch Ms. Louis's completely unveiled attempt at flirting.

"Uh actually there isn't a Mrs-"

"Mr. Barnes, Ms. Louis! How's lunch?" You ask slotting yourself between the two of them.

"Well I was just telling Mr. Barnes how admirable it is that he's volunteered for this trip. Not a lot of fathers do that." Ms. Louis says.

"Oh! Lily really wanted him to come. I was actually really glad when he confirmed that he'd do it." You smile at Mr. Barnes.

"Yeah- I mean you know- anything for my little girl." Bucky shrugs.

"Such a devoted father." Ms. Louis gushes.

"I mean with a kid like Lily it's hard not to be devoted. She's one of my best students." You say.

"She adores you as a teacher. I think you make it easy for her to excel." Bucky nods at you.

"I hope I make it easy for everyone to excel, but thank you." You smile.

"Alexander adores her too. She's clearly a miracle worker with kids don't you think Mr. Barnes?" Ms. Louis leans forward to look at him. You almost want to laugh at the way Bucky's face subtly shows his growing irritation.

"It's uh- yeah she's- pretty great." Bucky nods.

"We'll have to get the kids on the buses soon." You mutter, checking your watch. "Bucky do you mind helping me collect trash from the kids?"

"Absolutely." Bucky stands quickly and rushes to grab a trash bag. Bucky walking around with a trash bag prompts a few of the other volunteers to also gather trash from the collection of students. Once everyone's packed up you lead the kids back onto the buses and Bucky pulls you into the seat next to him before Ms. Louis can take it.

"That eager to sit next to me Bucky?" You joke with a smile.

"More eager to stay away from Ms. Louis." He says with a huff and you nod. You don't notice but he grimaces at how his answer probably came off. "I mean- not that you aren't great company it's just-"

"I get it- no need to explain yourself Mr. Barnes- uh Bucky. No need to explain yourself Bucky. I know Ms. Louis has been- a bit friendly to say the least." You reassure him.

"Friendly might be an understatement." He scoffs. You throw your head back as a laugh bubbles out of your throat. Bucky allows himself to smile as a feeling he can't name warms his chest at being the cause of such a wonderful sound.

"Yeah- it probably is an understatement." You say. Bucky chuckles a little but can't think of anything to say despite wanting to continue talking to you so he lets the silence drag. When you get back to the school and the kids are in the classroom he finally thinks of something to say.

"Do you- need any help with the students til the parents show up." He asks you. There's about half an hour left until pickup though you're sure several parents will show up early.

"Ah I'm sure Lily's ready to go home. You don't have to stay. Thank you for offering though!" You smile.

"We can stay if you need us Miss. Y/l/n. I don't mind. Daddy doesn't either." Lily skips around her dad as she talks.

"I can handle it little flower I promise. You take the excuse to leave early." You say squatting to her eye level. "I say you make daddy get you ice cream." You suggest in a stage whisper.

"Ice cream?! Daddy let's get ice cream!" Lily says excitedly.

"You sure changed your mind quick." Bucky laughs.

"You learn the ways of children very quickly when you teach them." You shrug triumphantly.

"Well- guess I lost this one. If the princess wants ice cream then I can no longer stay to help." Bucky chuckles.

"Yes well have a nice weekend." You smile. Bucky and Lily both wish you the same before she skips out of the classroom with her father in tow.

~

"Hey Lily! How was your Zoo trip the other day?" Steve asks as he walks into Bucky's kitchen.

"Fun! Daddy spent the whole day talking to Miss. Y/l/n.  They sat together on the bus, talked during the whole walk, and she even sat with him at lunch." Lily reports.

"You know you were supposed to be there to look at zoo animals. Not me." Bucky looks at her incredulously.

"Uncle Sam told me to look out for anything interesting." Lily shrugs.

"Uncle Sam needs to mind his business." Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Are you going to ask Miss. Y/l/n on a date?" Lily asks.

"No. Why would I do that?" Bucky sighs.

"Because you like her." Lily shrugs.

"Why do you think he likes her Lily?" Steve asks with an amused smile.

"He spent all day talking to her even when he wasn't trying to avoid Ms. Louis." She shrugs.

"Alright missy that's enough." Bucky says.

"Ms. Louis?" Steve frowns.

"Alexander's mom. She kept hitting on dad." Lily says skipping out of the kitchen.

"Look at you cassanova." Steve laughs.

"Shut up. Are you picking her up tomorrow or is Sam?" Bucky rolls his eyes.

"You are." Steve says.

"What? I'm supposed to be at the shop tomorrow."

"Well do some rearranging bud. I think the kid's right." Steve shrugs.

"Right about what?" Bucky blinks at his friend.

"You should ask out the teacher. If you like her so much." Steve explains.

"Between you Sam and my daughter you are supposed to be the rational logic using adult. Why are you agreeing with my eight year old?!" Bucky sighs.

"You can't stay single forever. And don't use Lily as an excuse she clearly wants you to have a love life just as badly as you need one. You deserve it. Plus if you ask out her teacher you don't have to go through the awkward 'I have a kid' talk or worrying if Lily will like her. She already knows and they get along great. No drawbacks."

"This is ridiculous." Bucky huffs.

"Just give it a shot. The worse that can happen is she says no. In which case I'll do my best to make sure you don't have to see her again and in a couple months Lil will have a new teacher anyway." Steve shrugs.

~

In a couple months Lily will have a new teacher anyway. That's what Bucky tells himself as he walks with Lily back towards your classroom. A knock on the doorframe pulls your attention away from your computer where you're entering grades. You look up and see Bucky in the doorway.

"Mr. Barnes. Is everything okay? Did you not find Lily outside?" You ask with a concerned frown as you walk over to him.

"Hi Miss. Y/l/n!" Lily pokes her head into the doorframe.

"Oh- nevermind then- did you leave something little flower?" You look at Lily.

"Nope!" She shakes her head.

"In that case- to what do I owe the pleasure?" You ask with a smile.

"Well I uh- I wanted to ask you something actually." Bucky says looking around the classroom.

"Ask away!" You tell him.

"I was just wondering if you- wanted to grab dinner together sometime." He forces himself to look at you while he asks the question.

"Dinner?" You blink at him. The question caught you off guard honestly.

"Is that incredibly stupid? Have I- overstepped?" He grimaces.

"No! No, not at all I just- I was surprised. One second." You say. You turn your back to him and subtly blow out a breath, smiling as you walk back to your desk hoping your excitement isn't noticeable. You quickly scribble your number down on a sticky note and walk back over to him. "Here. My phone number, you can call me and we'll plan something." You say with a smile.

"Uh- yeah yeah okay. Sounds good." He nods.

"Great. Have a good night and- I hope to hear from you soon Bucky." You say walking back over to your desk and sitting back down to your work.

"Yeah- you too." Bucky says cheesing almost too hard as he walks Lily back out of the school.

"See dad? Told you you should ask her on a date." Lily smiles as she skips down the hall.

"Oh hush." Bucky chuckles.

"Make sure you call her!" Lily tells him

And he did. He called you later that evening, around 6, not wanting to call too soon but not wanting to call you too late at night either. You giggled through the whole conversation as you listen to Bucky talk through potential date ideas. You eventually agree on a little Italian place that Bucky swears by and with a quiet good night your call ends after almost an hour.

Your date is scheduled for that weekend, Saturday. Bucky would've scheduled it for earlier but he figured during the week would be too busy for you and he didn't want to schedule it for too soon. He's extremely nervous as he pulls up to the restaurant at 6:45. You're supposed to meet him at 7 but he wanted to be early, to meet you when you arrive.

"Bucky!" You call when you spot him near the entrance. He spins around to face you with flowers in his hand.

"Hey! Did you find the place okay?" He asks with a smile.

"Yeah! I hope you weren't waiting too long."

"Not at all. I brought you flowers, although I realize it- will probably be awkward to have them at the table all night." Bucky chuckles as he hands you the bouquet of wildflowers.

"Thank you. They're gorgeous and I think it'll be great to keep them at the table honestly. We'll make it work." You take the flowers from him and take his outstretched arm for him to lead you into the restaurant. He talks to the host who seems familiar with him as they talk all the way to your table.

"A server will be with you shortly." The host says and walks away.

"I take it you come here a lot." You muse with a smile.

"Oh uh kinda- Lily loves the place so- we're not strangers." He shrugs.

"That's cute. What's her favorite thing on the menu?" You ask.

"She usually orders the spaghetti- she's a huge fan of their breadsticks." Bucky laughs.

"Well- breadsticks are good to like." You nod.

"Any idea what you're gonna order?" He asks.

"What do you recommend?" You look at him.

"Uh the tortellini carbonara is pretty good- and the angel olio. And- if you can't decide alfredo's always a solid goto." Bucky points at menu options.

"Those all- sound like amazing options."

"Whatever you pick will be good I promise." Bucky smiles. When the waiter comes by you both order, you the angel olio, and him the tortellini.

"So uh, how long have you been teaching?" Bucky asks.

"About six years now." You tell him.

"Has it been third grade the whole time or- did you start elsewhere?" He asks.

"I worked at preschool first actually and then I started working at Lily's school 2 years ago." You explain.

"How do you like it? Better or worse than preschool?"

"If every student I ever had was like Lily, I'd say it's better for sure- but sometimes you get students that make you just- sigh. Either way I love teaching." You shrug.

"From what I know you're pretty amazing at it so-" he smiles. By now your food has arrived and you have to remember to eat as you continue talking.

"Thank you. So- what do you do?" You ask him.

"I uh- own a bookstore." He says.

"Really? That's so cool." You say.

"Yeah- it was real instrumental in the whole reintegration thing."

"Reintegration?" You frown.

"I'm a veteran." He shrugs.

"Oh!"

"Don't tell me you didn't wonder what was up with the metal arm."

"I- never thought about it all that much actually. Life happens. Plus you usually cover it." You shrug.

"I do- people stare. Most kids think it cool but their parents usually don't so- I cover it to pick her up."

"I think it's cool." You tell him with a small smile.

"Do you now?" He chuckles.

"Totally. It's attached to someone I think is cool so- it's cool by association." You say.

"You're sweet." Bucky says and you chuckle as you answer.

"Like candy, I'm told. So- Steve and Sam are they like- your best friends or-"

"Steve and I grew up together- he's basically a brother to me. Sam was his friend and- we didn't always get along at first but- he grew on me for sure. Plus- Lily loves him so- I keep him around." Bucky says with a thoughtful smile.

"Just- outta curiosity- is Lily's mom in the picture? I mean- Lily never mentions her and, I've only ever seen one of you three pick her up."

"Lily's mom-"

"If it's- you know not something you're comfortable with we don't have to go there. I'm just being nosy." You shrug.

"No no- it's fine I, I just wasn't expecting it. But typically people wanna get to know each other on dates right? It's a valid thing to ask." He says.

"So- if you don't mind, can you tell me?"

"Lily- doesn't have a mom. Well I mean- she does technically but- like there's no woman in my life connected to Lily. I adopted her." Bucky laughs slightly at the awkward way he tried to say that.

"Oh! When? Was she old enough to know she's adopted or-"

"She was 2- so not quite old enough to understand. She knows now though. I think she never really talks about it because it doesn't matter to her but she knows. It doesn't change who her family is but if she ever wants to find her biological parents- I have names."

"What made you want to adopt a kid?"

"Well- when I came home and got this arm- I had a real tough time trying to figure out what the hell the rest of my life was gonna look like. The white picket fence with the perfect family that I thought I'd have no longer- made sense. I knew I still wanted a family but- honestly it felt like the traditional route wasn't gonna work out all that well. So- I opened a book store and once I felt... adjusted enough to care for someone other than myself I looked into adopting."

"Do you want more kids?" You ask.

"Maybe- I don't know how Lily would adjust to siblings but- I think I'd like more kids- adopted or biological. Doesn't matter- depends on where life takes me I guess." He shrugs.

"I think Lily would make a great big sister." You tell him.

"Think so?"

"Yeah."

"Me too." He nods. "I think it's my turn to ask questions."

"Ask away Mr. Barnes." You smile.

"Do you have any kids?" He asks.

"Nope. Although teaching sometimes makes it feel like I've got 20." You joke.

"Do you want kids?"

"Yeah- whenever the time feels right."

"You seem so normal." Bucky says after a moment.

"Normal?" You ask.

"Yeah- I come with all this baggage and you- like don't."

"Baggage is a weird way to refer to life experience." You say.

"A military veteran with a metal limb is just 'life experience' to you?"

"Sure- it's not the happiest life experience sure but it's part of what makes you you- and so far I like what I've seen." You smile. You and Bucky spend another hour just chatting away even after the food has long been finished and by the time you're making your way out of the restaurant you feel like you've known him for years. Bucky walks you all the way to your car with your hand in his.

"I had a lot of fun tonight." You tell him once you reach your vehicle.

"Me too- thanks for agreeing to this."

"Thanks for inviting me. I uh- hope we can do this again sometime." You say. Bucky leans forward and plants a delicate kiss on your cheek.

"We will." He says softly against your skin. "Goodnight." He adds stepping back.

"Goodnight. Get home safely." You say wistfully as you get into your car.

"You too." He says walking away. You glance at the flowers you put in your passenger seat as you start the car. You're beaming the entire way home- you can't help yourself. You don't go on dates often and this has definitely been one of the best. You hope that whatever your future with Bucky is just as great or better than tonight.

***

[quanticowrites]

I'd go anywhere for you Part 3 (Angus Macgyver x Female! Reader)

•• Hello everybody! I have finally typed up Part 3, so I hope you all enjoy! ❤️ ••

“You can't leave me like this, (y/n). I won't let you.” That was Mac’s voice. You knew that much. If your eyes didn't feel so god damn heavy you'd try and look for him, and see where you were. For now, you'd rely on your other senses. It smelled...clean. Bleachy clean. You could hear more voices, besides Mac’s, from farther away but you couldn't quite make out what they were saying. There was an annoyingly constant beeping right next to you. Beeping? Bleach smell? You relaxed a little. You were in a hospital. “I went across the world for you, I can't lose you now.” You took a deep breath and a chair scooted back. “(Y/n)?” You laughed at his eagerness. You must've really worried him.

“I hear you, Mac.” You started, your voice low and raspy. “Can I have some water?” You got a boost of strength, so you peeked open your eyes. Mac wasn't in the room. You smiled. He probably ran to the nearest vending machine. It made you wonder if he'd pay for it or use his “special” knock he'd shown you before. He’d gotten the entire row of Gummy Bears to come falling down. Mac came rushing in before taking a second to slow down, seeing your eyes open. He set the water down on the rolley table and got down on his knees, to be eye level with you. He grabbed your hand.

“You scared me.”

“I'm sorry. I should've radioed Maddie that the intel was wrong.”

“Hey, don't be too hard on yourself. Ashley's back home, safe, thanks to you.” Your lips went flat. Yeah, but you'd almost gotten both of you killed. You knew the odds, but you went for it, like a rookie.

“I was stupid. I wanted to finish the mission fast, so I could get back to you.” He squeezed your hand, showing that he understood how you felt. “Maybe we should-”

“Don't.” Mac leaned in closer. “You mean more to me than anything I've ever had in my entire life. You're one of the few people I’ve loved that hasn't abandoned me.” He put his forehead against yours. Curse those blue eyes. Being this close you could see every fleck of color of Mac’s galaxy. Stars danced every time he blinked. His eyelashes were a gateway to bliss. “Don't leave me behind.” His voice dimmed down to a whisper, blowing lightly across your lips. You probably shouldn't strain yourself, but right now you didn't give a damn. You lifted yourself the rest of the way to meet Mac for a kiss. He took his other hand behind your head and re-adjusted himself so you wouldn't hurt so bad. You were taken back to your first kiss, the passion, the lust, the god I want you feeling. Cinnamon filled your mouth and nose. The strong scent elevates your senses even more. It was like you'd had an entire pack of gum without any of the chewing. Mac always chewed gum when he was nervous. You both froze as a cough came from the doorway.

“Are we interrupting something?” Mac laughed as he leaned back and you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up, Jack.” You chided. “It's not like it's the first kiss you've seen.” He came in, pulling a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. Riley, Boozer, and Maddie right behind him.

“I'm glad you're okay.” Maddie came up to your bedside as Jack set his flowers on the windowsill. “But I think I need to address something.” You and Mac exchanged a glance before she continued. “You two almost botched both of your missions because you couldn't stop thinking about the other, putting other agents at risk in the process.” Your heart monitor started to go crazy. This is it, you thought. She's going to split you up permanently. Why wouldn't she? You would if you were in her shoes. Her stern expression suddenly turned to a smile. “Which is why from now on all your missions will be together.”

“Are you serious?” You blurted out and Maddie laughed. Mac squeezed your hand again, harder this time.

“Maddie, can I ask why?” Mac sounded just as shocked as you.

“I realized you two are better together rather than apart. The missions you're together have a 100% success rate. I'd be an idiot to ignore that.” She handed you a letter and headed out.

“I’ll let you get some rest.” Jack came over and gave you a hug.

“Glad you're okay, kid.” You gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Thank you for taking care of him when I couldn't.” He winked, saluted, and took his leave, Riley giving a wave after placing your phone next to the water Mac brought.

“Thought you might want that.”

“Thanks Riles!” You called after her as Boozer patted Mac’s shoulder. He did finger guns between the two of you.

“Behave you two.” He pointed back at Mac, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “Especially you.”

“Booz…” Mac laughed and Boozer put up his hands, backing towards the door. “Well, uh,” Mac stood up and ran his hands through his hair. Another quirk for when he was nervous. “That's not how I saw that going.” You sighed and shook your head. There was only one way to ground him when he was like this.

“Baby~” You cooed and patted your hospital bed. “Come lay with me.” He just stared at you for a minute before gingerly climbing into bed beside you. Turning on his side so he could cradle you in his arms. His body heat was welcomed compared to the coldness of the hospital air. “Thank you for finding me.” You whisper and he puts his lips against your ear.

“I’d go anywhere in the world for you, (y/n).”

Tag list: @stanathanxoox , @nikkiwierden , @malindacath , @havlindzk , @countrygal17a , @memyselfandmaddox , @octobersmog , @mizzezm , @diaryofafan17 , @emmitheacefangirl , @littlepersonbigworld , @a-sad-excuse-of-everything , @averyhotchner , @carry-on-wayward-girl

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Last Light: Takeomi Akashi x Fem!Reader

One-shot.

angst and fluff.

wc: 853

masterlist

Blank eyes stare back at Takeomi in the dirty public restroom.

He had to choose a McDonald's, didn't he?

if he put a little more effort and little more thought past the grumbling in his stomach and the thumping in his head (and neck, and arm, and the stinging under his left eye), he might have chosen a different establishment to frequent for his post-fight meal.

But losers don't get to choose fancy dining areas, Takeomi quickly remembers. Losers choose what is available at 12 am, and the golden arches are simply the only thing afforded to him... and the only thing he can afford.

Takeomi dragged himself away from the fight with his dignity intact - or so he thought - and into the well-lit establishment to clean up.

"Clean up, clean up, everybody, everywhere..."

The memory of your sing-song voice comes to him just as Takeomi presses the brown paper towel to the cut under his eye and he hisses - both at the thought of you and the feeling of the antibacterial soap he's rubbing into the cut.

"Fuck..."

Takeomi stares at the Filet-O-Fish in front of him with mild disgust. His stomach launches its tirade against the abuse loudly, chanting "we have food at home" over and over and over again.

"I've already paid for it," he says to no one and raises the greasy item to his lips. As he punishes himself with the taste of the sandwich, Takeomi wonders if he should sleep in the hideout instead. It would add to the punishment and perhaps even fulfill a requirement of yours... but as he treasures the saltiness of the fries in his mouth, he thinks about other things.

How would he get a pillow? Are there still sheets in the main room?

Even as Takeomi drives toward the house, he feels something nagging at him to not go home. Not to embarrass himself. Not to drag you down and make you emotional and worried.

His hand stills before reaching the doorknob. Keys jingle in his hands, fingers trembling before they enter the slim piece of copper into the tumbler. Takeomi sighs, making his breath puff out in front of him before he lets his hand fall.

No, no, he can't do it.

A cigarette should do, he thinks to himself, turning back around on the porch and pulling his pack out from his back pocket. The swing chair creaks under his weight, and he pulls out his lighter as he jostles the last cigarette from the pack.

Light, inhale, exhale...

How would he explain this one away? Even as the cigarette gets shorter, he seems to come up empty on excuses. He can't lie and say he didn't lose, but... admitting a loss to you would be...

The cigarette sputters out, and Taekomi offers one last look at the quiet neighborhood before entering his home as quietly as possible. With any luck, you'd be asleep with the kids and he wouldn't have to answer any questions until the morning.

But as his eyes drag up from the floor, he sees you and the two boys laying on the couch in front of the TV, the littlest one in your lap, his thumb in his mouth, and the eldest nodding off slowly.

"Babe," you murmur, reaching out the hand that previously rested on the youngest's back. "How'd it go?" When Takeomi doesn't answer, you wipe your eyes, yawn, and look closely at him. "Is that a --"

"Shhh... I'm alright," he begins, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. "I'll take them off to bed." Before he can pull Natsuya off your lap, you grab his wrist and frown.

"Omi, did you lose?"

"Baby, the kids--"

"Tell me the truth." Takeomi stalls, his brain trying to come up with something acceptable.

"I did. Can we talk about it when we head off to bed?"

You nod, then allow him to take the two boys off to bed, their little bodies slumped against his frame. After tucking them in, giving them goodnight kisses, and closing the door, he meets you in your bedroom, where you're ready for him with bandages and antiseptic.

"You really don't have to--"

"Have a seat," you whisper tenderly, cradling his cheek with one hand. Takeomi obeys, his stomach now announcing it's mistreatment for you to hear. "Have you eaten?" you wonder, taking a cotton ball and pressing it on the cut under his eye.

"McDonald's," he admits shyly.

"There's soup in the fridge, sweetheart." You don't address the fact that he's lost, but Takeomi can see the concern in your eyes. When his cut has been attended to, you kneel down to look into his eyes, murmuring, "I love you no matter whether you win or lose a fight. Come home to us regardless, alright?"

"Alright." You lean forward to kiss his lips sweetly, holding him close. He kisses you back eagerly, holding you as he leans back on the bed. "I love you, babe."

"Now, can I make you feel just a little better?" Takeomi smiles widely, chuckling.

"You sure can."

[tapedsleeves]

#4 with ya know who, pls? 👀

4 - Standing in front of them protectively. and you know who i assume is 6167, them's the usual suspects for us :)

Out of the corner of his eye, Max sees Mark freeze. He didn't hear the question, but now that he's turned his attention towards the scrum rather than the play fight that Haguer and Roysie are having, he can hear Mark's silence perfectly fine. Mark's not the most verbose guy, but most of the times his silences are thoughtful rather than panicked. Max's jaw throbs from the hit he'd taken earlier, but he catches Marchy's eye and hands the ice pack off to him before stepping into the screened off area for press.

He steps beside Mark, feeling people turn their attention towards him. Good. Give Mark a chance to recover from whatever had been said.

"Hey, everyone." Max says, putting his hand on Mark's shoulder. He squeezes a little, but Mark dips out of it a little early instead of pressing into it. Alright, that's fine. "I think I missed the question, but I'm happy to step in for my Captain here." He laughs, makes a joke out of him not paying attention.

Max may not be a good liar, but that doesn't mean he can't be charming.

"Hi Max, we weren't expecting you," Jesse says from the side.

"Yeah," Max says, "having a little cosmetic issue." He shrugs, still smiling. He doesn't point to it, knowing that the forming bruise can't be more obvious. His shirt is a little wet at the collar from the ice pack.

Jesse laughs, along, letting the room follow their lead. "We just had a question about the scrum at the end of the third there." Max hadn't seen the punch coming - it had literally been out of nowhere, since Kane had been behind him. But Mark had seen it. Kane had pulled Max around by the back of his jersey, using his momentum against him and hauling his fist against Max's jaw. Mark had been there, almost as soon as it landed, yanking Max out of the way and shoving Kane away and into the linesmen.

Talking on the ice in the middle of a scrum was a lesson in futility - people around them were yelling, the crunch of chest and shoulder pads connecting, blades on the ice, clattering sticks. Not to mention the roar of the home crowd yelling "Asshole" like DeAngelo had the puck.

But standing with Mark, having Mark gently push him toward the bench, had felt like a little bubble of calm. Or maybe Max had just still been dazed by the sucker-punch. Who knows.

When they'd got to the bench, Mark had caught him by the sleeve - Max must really have lost something because he hadn't had gloves on, when had he lost his gloves? There had been something in Mark's eyes, fierce and protective that had made warmth pool in Max's chest. He could feel that more than the already sore jaw. He catches Mark by the wrist.

"Well, yeah we all have each other's backs out there. When someone punches you like that out of nowhere, you know that your team is going to come in and defend you." Max says.

"And what happened after, at the bench?" Max knows now why Mark had gone silent. He hadn't had a way to explain why Max had pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Not one he could give to the press anyway.

"A show of appreciation." Max says, with a wry smile.

"Quite a show." Jesse says, answering the same. He knows there are recorders everywhere, picking up every word he says and he hopes that the ones he said were funny or distracting enough to cover Mark's silence. "Wouldn't be Vegas without one." He takes a step back, and says "Thanks for your time everyone, but I think this show is over for now." Max can hear the wash of protests, but more than that, he hears the scrape of Mark pushing back his chair and standing.

He leans forward, back into the microphone, and says "Thanks, everybody. Sorry you had to deal with this one." Mark says and shoots smile at Max, managing to include everyone in on the joke, and quiet their protests all at once. Mark may think he's not good at press, but Max knows better.

"Thanks everyone for letting me answer a question." Max says, "Have a good rest of your night." He lets Mark push him back into the hallway, behind the screens that afford not a whole lot of privacy.

"Sorry about that," Max says. "I just couldn't leave you hanging." He pushes his shoulder into Mark's, trying for a little more comfort than he can express in words.

"We have each other's backs." Mark says. "That's what you said."

"Yeah." Max says, unable to cover the way his voice goes soft and warm. "We do."

prompt meme ask me this fic on ao3