#also i had to turn their new menu off to stop it from massive flickering on every load screen

[barrymccaulkinem]

god i still want to throttle the black mesa devs after all this time. they did all that fanfare about some gold final edition shit or whatever they called it (primarily to cover up the fact that they added a eula that says they'll datamine you if you agree and you need to agree to play multiplayer, as far as i can tell) and the amount of gamebreaking bugs that are still left. STILL. its pretty frickin frustrating

[pendarling]

Don't Lie 4

<< Start < Part 3 • Part 5 > End >>

"Are you ready?" Villain had finally finished and walked toward them; they looked as gorgeous as usual. It seemed like everything Villain wore always fit them nicely.

It took a lot of work to stay focused on their one true objective. Villain was temporary; their sincere gaze would not stop them from continuing their mission.

The drive was smooth and unusually silent. However, Hero didn't mind; they would eventually reach their destination. As long as they weren't needed to help combat the hijacking, that should be happening right about now.

Hero felt Villain's hand rest on their thigh, almost unconsciously reassuring them everything would work out. They blushed; for the past few months, they couldn't stop refuting their emotional attachment to Villain. One thing they'd made clear, though, was what they had was not love. In any case, they couldn't let anyone know they knew Villain's identity; if the other heroes discovered this, they would be cast out. 

Hero reached down and turned on the radio.

'... we'll look back at the situation currently in the venue, and if you're just joining us as this unfolds, there's been an attack at the Cold Castle down at 1846 36 St. Louise Square. Luckily, there's been a stifling of the attack by several heroes-- however, be aware of upcoming traffic.'

It wasn't a big surprise to hear about the ongoing battle over the news because they had been responsible enough to take action before the villains had. Hearing the story favour the heroes over at the city's heart had been a relief. Hero was nervous about it, but knowing it was another victory had finally put them at ease.

They heard Villain sigh and turned it off almost immediately.

"What's wrong, dear?"

"Nothing." A hand ran through their hair. "Just tired of hearing the same thing over and over again." They looked back outside absently.

Hero adjusted their position, "I know, a hero's work never seems to end." 

Villain rolled their eyes and mumbled indistinguishably under their breath. 

…

They weren't lying when Villain told them they were going to a nice restaurant. Nice wouldn't be the fitting word though it was beyond exceptional. They took their seats and watched the servers twist around the moving chairs as if on ice.

Hero pulled up the menu between them and made their decision. 

The number of people filing into the place was a lot, so waiting would be a while. Hero stared timidly back up at Villain's frustrated expression.

Hero scooted in closer, their hand barely reaching up to grab Villain's when it pulled back a bit. Their eyes flickered back at them, worried. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I think I forgot my wallet in the car." Hero thought they caught a glance of their annoyance. With a slight huff, Villain pushed their chair and stood.

Hero would also be upset if they'd known their teammates were losing. They'd get over it eventually.

A buzz from their pocket alerted Hero of a text message. As they pulled it up, their eyes landed on the words on the screen.

"Any more criminals?"

Hero opened up the message and viewed the attached image. It was a photo of the other heroes surrounded by the successfully captured villains with a massive wreck of buildings in the background. Red and blue lights flickered in the camera lens as one of the sidekicks stood proud against some of the much older members. Hero snickered at the sight of their goofy smiles. They'd have to all get together sometime. 

Hero pressed their fingers to the screen and typed back. 

"And who's going to clean all that?"

"Not our asses!!"

Villain returned a few moments after, and Hero hurried to place the phone away.

The food was extravagant, to say the least. Villain didn't seem too happy still, was less talkative than usual and would only reply in short sentences. But their mood would change, as mentioned.

After several drinks into a happy hour later, their vision returned to their ditzy impression of oversaturated love. 

"Baby~"

Villain glanced back at Hero's wrecked attire. It hadn't even been midnight yet, and they were already wasted. "You really shouldn't have eaten all that." Villain leaned across to fix the part of Hero's outfit that slipped over their shoulder. 

Hero pouted, "You barely-- hck-- touched yerrr... food."

Villain mumbled something incoherent again. 

"Hm?" They lifted their lopsided head and stared hazily at the still well-groomed Villain. Oddly, they hadn't been subjected to the same effects as the food or drinks. Hero was aware some foods contained alcohol, but they were certain most of it should've burnt off anyways. Hero laid their head back down again.

The wine tasted lovely. They weren't too much of a fan of it on a regular day, but there was something keen about it tonight. They looked around the spinning room, clueless for a moment.

The air felt so humid. So strange.

They could almost feel every bead of sweat on their forehead, every breath they took and how the darkness inched closer to the centre of their vision.

"What's the matter, love?" Villain whispered as they leaned in, and what could only be described as an eerie discomfort overcame them. 

"Mhmm..." They squinted back at what was supposed to be their partner. But all they could make out was a true villain's stare. 

Was there something in their drink? Why was everything…

The table was so warm. They could sleep at any moment. 

"You wanna go home?" A soft hand pressed on the top of their head and ran down their hair; stroking them in a familiar fashion that would lull them to sleep on regular days.

But they didn't want to go to sleep. 

Not yet.

<< Start

< Part 3

•

Part 5 >

End >>

~~~ MASTERLIST

[seyaryminamoto]

Matching Heartbeats: Sokkla Saturdays 2020

Day 9: Sokkla is painful for Zuko

On FF.net//On AO3

A beam of light fell upon the woman. It didn't seem out of place, yet that spotlight appeared to say she was… alone. She projected a massive shadow… so strong it might consume her completely. She glanced at the darkness that poured from inside her warily, fearfully, perhaps knowing it could overwhelm and consume her.

But then that bright light changed, shifting not in nature, but in form. And where her darkness touched him, his features became clear. Where his light touched her, she became real. And once their lips joined, it was as though all the darkness and light in the world had stopped battling, but instead had accepted their true meaning and duty: to work together, to be tied to one another for infinity, to shed light and cast shadows on equal measure, always at a perfect, matching rhythm…

Light and shadow that enabled the onlooker to finally understand what he was looking at… or rather, who he was looking at.

A loud gasp, a yelp, and then he sat up with a start. His chest was heaving, his heart racing, beads of sweat clinging to his body. What he'd just witnessed… it couldn't be. It seemed so unlikely, so uncanny, but he had seen it with his own eyes…

"What… what's wrong?"

The female voice beside him called for him, reaching for his bare arm. She always liked sleeping with the covers rolled down to her naked waist, for the Fire Nation's heat bothered her at nights. Surely by now, her violet eyes had opened as she sought to unravel whatever had startled him so badly… but in such a dark room, it was impossible to tell if she could see him yet.

"Hey…" she called again, cupping his cheek: he was still breathing loudly, heavily, and still refusing to talk. "A bad dream?"

"B-bad…? I guess it wasn't bad…" he admitted, swallowing hard.

"Then what is it?" she asked, sitting up fully beside him: she hugged him, her breasts pressing against his arm. He wanted nothing but to return to what they had been doing earlier that night, before falling asleep in each other's arms… but he couldn't. Not when he was so shaken up. "Come on, love… you can tell me anything."

"You might think I'm crazy," he said. "I… I don't know. You'll probably think I am, actually… d-don't worry, Suki, really…"

"How can I not worry when you wake up in the middle of the night like that?" she asked, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder, trailing up to his neck. "What is it? You can tell me…"

"Y-you're sure…?"

"Of course," Suki said, and he could nearly hear the smile in her very face. He released a breath slowly.

"W-well, I… saw two people, in my dream. Two people who were… well, connected! Drawn together, it was some strange metaphor on darkness and light? And I thought it was beautiful, but then I realized I knew who they were and… and that's when I woke up."

"Then… you knew those two people?" Suki asked, caressing his hair gently.

"Yeah. I did," he said, breathing out slowly. "And they… were kissing."

"Was it us?" she asked, amused.

"Uh… that's where you'll think I'm crazy."

"Uh-oh. Dreaming about another girl, were you?"

"No, I wasn't! Suki, it was… it was Azula and Sokka."

All her teasing behavior ended abruptly then, and she pulled away from him to no doubt give him the most skeptical stare of all time, even if imperceptible in the dark room.

"You… were dreaming about your sister kissing your best friend, Zuko?"

Zuko groaned and dropped on the bed again, and Suki just sat in place in the darkness, all her interest in soothing her lover's concerns with her body suddenly frozen cold: that wasn't at all what she had expected to hear.

"I don't usually think about my sister kissing people! I mean, objectively? The idea of anyone kissing my sister is gross," Zuko groaned, covering his face with his hands. "And I'm sure the idea of anyone kissing me makes her sick too, so we're even!"

"Well, I don't know. She never seemed to mind Mai much, did she?" Suki reasoned. "And she hasn't given us a hard time or said anything about finding us disgusting, her teasing is usually… not quite about that? So… I guess you're the weird one. Must be your dream was your subconscious mind, betraying that you need to stop being so childish and accept your sister can have relationships of her own. Right?"

"U-uh… huh," Zuko frowned, his hands slipping down his face as he pondered her words. "Then… I should accept this? I guess I am unfair, aren't I…? I've been with you for two years as it is, so… maybe you're right. Maybe… maybe that's what my dream was telling me. But maybe it was also telling me something else."

"Like… what?" Suki asked, blinking blankly.

"That… the one Azula should be with is Sokka," Zuko said. Suki's jaw dropped.

"Z-Zuko…? Is it really up to you to decide that?" she asked. "I mean, it's good if you're going to accept that your sister can have relationships without making a fuss about it, she's a grown-up now, after all, and she should make her own choices… but that's part of it too, you know? Maybe she'll choose someone other than Sokka…?"

"Well, why should she?" Zuko sat up again, casting his room's lantern aglow with a quick flick of his hand. Suki's confusion was apparent underneath the new light, more so when Zuko stared at her intensely. "See this? Light! That's what he will be, for her! And she has a darkness that he can temper with his light, while her darkness gives him shape and focus! So…! It's actually the best match of all time! Suki, you see it too, right?! Don't you?!"

"Zuko… it's literally three in the morning," she pointed out. He swallowed hard. "Don't you think all the Fire Lord pressures are getting to you…?"

"No! This is…! I'm absolutely serious here, Suki! I… I wouldn't have dreamt this for no reason," Zuko determined, with certainty. Suki sighed. "Visions are real! Aang would tell you so, too!"

"Sokka once told me Aang dreamt your father wouldn't fight him because Aang wasn't wearing any pants," Suki said, looking at Zuko skeptically. Zuko swallowed hard.

"Okay but that's not the kind of dream I meant…"

"The next time, he was going to give Aang a math test. And then? He was riding a flying hippocow while telling him he had slept in on the day of the invasion," Suki continued, with a sarcastic grin. Zuko's cheeks heated up more with every new retelling of Aang's dreams. "My point is, Zuko, sometimes… dreams are just dreams! And it's not up to you to decide what Sokka or Azula should do in their love lives, okay? They're their own people, they make their own decisions. Okay?"

"Fine…" Zuko pouted. Suki laughed and kissed his cheek.

"I do love it when you get passionate about things, but… you need perspective sometimes, sweetheart," she laughed, pulling him down on the mattress again and cuddling against him.

Yet Zuko's mind and heart couldn't seem to stop racing. Even as Suki embraced him, and he turned off the lantern with another flicker of his hand, he knew what he'd seen was no chance, no mere coincidence: his sister had a soulmate, and after all the mistakes he had made in their relationship so far, he refused to make another one now. He would help her find love… and then, hopefully, Azula would find the happiness she deserved. This was the right thing for a good older brother to do, and Suki would understand by the time his new venture bore the right fruit…

...

Breakfast wasn't a particularly formal occasion in the Fire Nation Palace ever since Zuko had taken the throne. People would come and go to the dining room at whatever time they could afford to, depending on what their duties required them to do. Of course, if you were too late, the food would likely be cold, or you could end up skipping breakfast altogether and wind up eating lunch instead… the cold part was never a problem for Zuko, as he could warm his own food if need be, and he made a point to join Suki whenever she had a late breakfast due to her shifts, in case she wanted a hotter meal than she'd gotten. It was funny sometimes, Zuko had to admit, that he'd made such a fuss when Iroh had warmed up his tea in Ba Sing Se… but nowadays he was doing the same thing with many meals, and for more people than just himself.

Suki wouldn't be joining him today – she'd had an early start that morning, eaten her own meal in a rush and headed out to patrol the Palace. And while people were likely to come and go through the morning, Zuko intended to take the day as easy as he could… namely so he could wait for two very important people to stop by at the dining room.

Sokka was the first to arrive, yawning loudly as he entered the room with his usual nonchalance. After being a lanky Water Tribe boy when they had been fighting together in the war, he had even surpassed Zuko in height, and sported muscular arms with which he could likely crush someone's neck if he tried. It was, perhaps, a dark thought to be had about his friend, Zuko had to admit, but it seemed to him Azula would definitely appreciate a lover as physically strong as Sokka had become across the last years.

"Oh, you're still here, Zuko? Thought you'd be lording over your subjects by now," Sokka said, taking his seat by an available breakfast set and smiling with mischievous glee. "Woah, looks like a feast today! So much breakfast meat!"

"Thought you'd appreciate that," Zuko said, smiling. "I wanted to switch up our menus a little? If that's alright by everyone. I suppose the only risk with giving you more meat during meals is that you'll decide you want to stay in the Fire Nation for good, right?"

"And what's so wrong with that?" Sokka retaliated, grinning. "You said I'm a pretty good ambassador for the Southern Water Tribe, right?"

"You have been," Zuko nodded. "So consider this, uh… a gesture of appreciation?"

"You're weirdly generous all of sudden," Sokka said, raising his eyebrows. "Got to wonder if you have an ulterior motive, buddy…"

"W-what?! Why would I have an ulterior motive?!" Zuko exclaimed, unnecessarily loudly. Sokka inched away from the table, eyeing his friend warily.

"Umm… no reason?" he said, awkwardly. "I was just messing around?"

"Oh. Uh, sorry," Zuko smiled too. Sokka blinked blankly as he started eating, still glancing at Zuko with unease. "Sorry, I guess I'm a little on edge? It was a strange night…"

"Is that so…?" Sokka smiled awkwardly. Zuko flinched.

"I-I don't mean because of, well, Suki? Though… sorry. I know I shouldn't talk about this…"

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop worrying about it, Zuko?" Sokka smiled. "It's been like… what, seven years since she and I called it quits? And it was a mutual decision too. I'm happy you two are happy together, though I do think you should make it official eventually, you know…?"

"You know it's not easy, not even for a Fire Lord," Zuko sighed, but Sokka's change of subject brought an idea to mind. "Though… I guess I shouldn't involve myself in your love life, but you haven't really been with anyone since Suki? Or have you?"

"Uh…" Sokka's eyes shifted at Zuko before returning to his meal. "Nope. No one."

"Don't you think, maybe… you should try dating someone?" Zuko asked, with an awkward smile. "It could be good for you…"

"Dating someone?" Sokka repeated, with a light grin. "Yeah, well… I'm not sure I need to date anyone right now, but thanks, Zuko. Though you really don't have to worry about my love life when yours is so complicated, pal."

"Mine's not complicated, what's complicated is being Fire Lord," Zuko sighed. "B-but anyways, Sokka…"

"Yeah, must suck being Fire Lord," Sokka nodded. "So much to think about, so many problems to solve, and even then, you're trying to help me. You're way too nice this morning, Zuko, but you probably shouldn't be? I'm fine as I am, buddy, I promise."

"But…"

His protests would go interrupted when a new arrival stepped across the dining room… or stumbled across it, actually. Both Sokka and Zuko glanced quickly towards the archway, and Sokka even jumped to his feet, upon glimpsing Azula clasping the wall as she awkwardly made her way to the table.

"Azula?!" Zuko exclaimed, staring at her in astonishment. Sokka had raised a hand as though to help her, but upon noticing his gesture, the Princess raised her own as though to stop him: instead, Sokka wound up sliding his fingers through his hair, eyeing her worriedly. "What… what's going on? Are you okay?"

"I… shouldn't have taken up Mai and Ty Lee's invitation for a night of drinks in town…" Azula explained, stepping closer to the table. "I don't even remember… half of what happened? Don't ever drink enough to black out if you can avoid it, Zuzu…"

"You need help…?" Sokka offered, and Azula smiled.

"Gallant, but no. I'll make it to the table on my own, thank you very much…" she said, supporting herself on the many chairs around the table until she finally found a seat before which still stood a full breakfast waiting to be eaten. "Ugh, I'm not quite hungry, but… I know I should eat."

Sokka only sat down again after Azula did the same safely, groaning still as she tried to ignore the lingering pain. Zuko eyed her warily, as she sat only one chair away from him, holding her head up with a hand.

"Was it… fun, at least?" Zuko asked, with a small voice.

"I wish I knew," Azula smiled. "Might be I met my heart's true desire last night and I just forgot completely."

"No way!" Zuko laughed off, and Azula raised her eyebrows at his reaction at first, until she frowned again over the headache. "I mean, you wouldn't forget something that important, would you?"

"You underestimate the amount of alcohol I drank," Azula said, bluntly. Sokka could only laugh across the table. "What's so funny to you, Upstanding Ambassador?"

"I'm just wondering if you're blocking it all because you did something embarrassing. Like… I don't know, danced on a pub's tables? Or sang the whole repertoire of one of the Ember Island Players' musical theater plays…?"

"Ugh! No way I did anything that stupid!" Azula said. "I… hope."

"Fine, fine," Sokka laughed. "Though, you know? I think I know of a hangover remedy. I can ask the kitchen staff to fix you one, if you need it."

"Hmm… if the food doesn't fix this, I'll appreciate that," Azula said. Sokka grinned.

"No prob!"

Such a simple, friendly exchange… and yet they weren't simply teasing each other: Azula was willing to accept Sokka's help. She seldom was ready to accept anyone's assistance, but while she had changed over the years, this was unexpected… in the best of ways.

Only, Zuko's excitement over the matter had to be quite obvious, for he suddenly realized Sokka was staring at him… judgmentally, it seemed. Zuko froze, swallowing hard before returning to his own meal. Oh, Sokka would think he was going mad, wouldn't he…? But he wasn't. He knew what he was doing, and he'd get it done: his sister would be happy, and no longer lonely, and Sokka himself would appreciate it greatly once Zuko's deed was done.

"Eh… I'll go get your order in already, just in case," Sokka told Azula, smiling awkwardly before rising from the table.

He shot Zuko another strange stare as he made his way to the kitchens, while Zuko tapped his food with his chopsticks as a scolded child might. But once Sokka was gone…

"You, uh, really think you might have met someone last night?" Zuko asked.

"Didn't you hear I don't remember anything?" Azula said. "And why are you taking so long finishing your food? Need someone else to fill in your shoes while you waste your valuable time in the dining room, Fire Lord?"

"I decided today would be a lighter day for me, that's all," Zuko said, raising his hands defensively. "And I'm just saying… I'd be fine with it if you do meet someone, Azula. If you ever find someone who makes you happy…"

"And how would that be any of your business…?" Azula asked, rubbing her brow before casting Zuko a quick glare from the corner of her eyes. "This better not mean you're planning to marry me off to some foolish noble you need to get along with…"

"No! Never! I'd never do something so awful to you!" Zuko exclaimed. Azula huffed.

"I should hope so. I've said I won't be a threat for your rule anymore, but if you try something like that, I absolutely won't keep my promise," she said, sipping her morning tea.

"That's not my point, I'm just saying…" Zuko said, gritting his teeth. "That I haven't been very supportive of you for years, so I thought I'd change that, if I could…"

"Pfft, I'm perfectly used to our rhythm and relationship as it is. I don't need a doting, protective older brother… and I don't need to date anyone either, if that's what you were about to say next," Azula smiled dryly. "You have enough to worry about as it is, Zuzu. I'll live my life, you live yours."

Zuko scowled, watching bitterly as Azula continued eating without a care in the world… and his outrage only increased further once Sokka returned, setting the hangover cure by her tea.

"Hmm, thought you'd be gone already, Zuko," Sokka said, eyeing Zuko's plates. "You're almost finished eating, right?"

"Right," Zuko huffed, shooting a quick glare at Azula. "Well? Won't you drink your hangover cure?"

"I… guess," Azula mumbled. "Thank you for bringing it, Sokka."

"Don't mention it," Sokka grinned, returning to his seat "Though… it tastes like hell. Just so you know."

"Ugh… fascinating," Azula said, bringing the drink to her lips and grimacing noticeably once she tasted it. "Oh, hell, are you trying to kill me, savage?!"

"Not at all! I tell you, it works!" Sokka laughed.

"It's disgusting!" Azula roared, setting it down again and focusing on the food instead.

Zuko huffed, eating quickly as he pondered the situation some more. Both Azula and Sokka were adamant that they didn't need a relationship, didn't need his meddling, and that he had much bigger problems to worry about. Well… maybe they were right, but his dream wasn't wrong, he was sure of it. And clearly, going by all their arguing, they were still completely unaware of the fact that they were a perfect match. Yet… Sokka's willingness to help Azula was a good starting sign. While Zuko guessed it'd take a long time before they finally saw things his way, maybe he should focus on the positives and not lose hope: Sokka wasn't in a relationship, neither was Azula, and as much as they bickered, they likely were fond of each other on some level… for Azula wouldn't even acknowledge his existence if she didn't like him at all. So, there was still hope, if just a sliver of it. He could do this. He absolutely could do this…

It took him a few hours to come up with a solid plan, one that would once again show Azula how reliable Sokka was. The first stage of the plan was to ask all servants and Kyoshi Warriors to stay clear off the roofed, open corridor that led to the communications tower in the Palace for about thirty minutes, around noon. Once that was done, he snuck there, picked up one of the wall's lanterns, and shattered its oil compartment: he dropped the damaged lamp on the floor, watching with approval as the liquid spread across the corridor, all the way to the corner that led to the tower. Perfect.

After that, he hid in nearby bushes, watching quietly, knowing they'd arrive sooner than later: Sokka always had the routine to ship off his mail, whether to Republic City or to the South Pole, at these hours. As for Azula, Zuko sent her a message with a servant, asking her to give him a hand by sending some documents he allegedly didn't have time to ship off to the outer islands himself. It was a childish plan, he supposed, but it was bound to work anyways…

Sokka appeared first, and Zuko smirked: the pool of oil had spread across an intersection of two corridors, and there was no way either of them would be able to cross the halls that led to the communications tower if they didn't walk by that very intersection. He had known Sokka would come from the one where he had dropped the lantern, and Azula was set to arrive through the other corridor any second now…

The acrid smell of the oil brought Sokka out of his ruminations and papers: he raised his head to find the shattered lantern, and the pool of oil, right before his eyes.

"Woah… that's a weird accident," he said out loud, before stepping carefully towards the pool of oil.

He appeared to want to pick up the lantern, perhaps to inspect if it was damaged beyond repair or if he might have a chance to patch it up. And then… footsteps. A new set of them, down the other hall. Zuko's smirk widened as he glimpsed his sister's silhouette: she was as focused on her papers as Sokka had been, but the lantern wasn't within her line of sight, and with any luck the scent wouldn't reach her until she was too close to slow down, and then…

Then Sokka would have to jump out, wrapping his arms around her, ensuring she wouldn't slip and fall on the floor. And once he rescued her from what could have been a terribly dangerous fall, Azula would finally understand just how reliable Sokka was… she would fall in love with him before she even knew it! It was perfect!

She was so close now, a couple more steps… Sokka was already reacting, his eyes wide as he realized those footsteps meant someone might slip and fall over the oil…

"STOP!"

Zuko froze. Azula did, too, with a start.

Sokka gritted his teeth as he traversed the oil pool carefully, ensuring to step on as little of it as possible, before glancing over the corner to discover the person he had just saved from a bad slip over the oil was none other than Azula. She raised her eyebrows questioningly once their eyes met, and he smiled awkwardly, running a hand over his hair, before pointing at the pool of oil at his feet.

"This lantern broke for some reason? There's oil all over the place," he said.

"Oh… I see," Azula took a step back, eyeing the zone of disaster with confusion. "No wonder I thought it smelled like oil. Can you call someone to clean this up? I was supposed to send some mail…"

"I'm supposed to send some too, but this mess could be dangerous for anyone who walks around here," Sokka admitted, scratching the back of his head. "I'll go send mine after you're done, I'll take care of this…"

"I can send yours for you, if you want," Azula suggested, stretching a hand towards Sokka. He blinked blankly before grinning.

"That'd be a lot of help! Thanks, Azula!" he said, handing her his letters by stretching over the pool of oil until Azula could take the documents in her hands. "I'll go get someone to clean up right away, then."

"No problem. Try to be quick about it," Azula said, making a point to avoid the oil… and restarting her way to the communications tower indeed.

Leaving a frustrated Zuko to fume within the bushes he'd been hiding in. Great. Just… great. The one time he didn't want them to communicate like rational people to resolve their problems was the one time they decided to do it. Leave it to those two to sabotage his every enterprise, whether consciously or not…

Oh, but he wasn't done. He wasn't anywhere near done. Azula and Sokka were in for a surprise or many, depending on how many of his plans they forced him to enact.

...

"You called, Zuko?" Sokka's voice drifted from the door of Zuko's office at sundown. Zuko turned with a bright grin, perhaps too bright, for Sokka gave him that awkward stare again. "Uh… Zuko? You okay, buddy?"

"I was hoping you'd come. I have… a favor to ask you," he said, beaming as he picked up a package that had been resting on his desk. Sokka raised his eyebrows, puzzled. "It's for Azula."

"For… Azula? You bought her a gift?" Sokka asked.

"Well… yeah, but I don't want her to know it's from me," Zuko said. "I want you to give it to her? But, remember, no telling her it's from me. I… am just trying to do what you always told me, you know? Make efforts to repair the burned bridges and whatever figures of speech you used…?"

"I guess I did say that, but… what's the point of buying her a gift and not telling her it's from you?" Sokka asked. "How's that going to help?"

"If I'm not eager to take credit, she'll think my efforts are more genuine," Zuko said, with his practiced response, the one he'd decided on giving Sokka as he pondered how this encounter would unfold. "I think you two are getting along pretty well lately, right? So…"

"Are we?" Sokka asked, with an awkward smile. "I thought the incident with the hangover cure at breakfast yesterday would make her hate me forever? Is it your sister's fine with people who get her to drink things she hates?"

"No, but I meant…" Zuko started, but he held back: he couldn't reveal he had seen the lantern incident, the report he'd received about it merely stated Sokka had dealt with the matter, and Azula wasn't mentioned at all. As far as Sokka was concerned, he wouldn't have known they met at all, unless he had been there, too… "I meant you two could sit together and have breakfast anyway. It's good progress."

"Uh-huh…" Sokka said, skeptical again. Zuko snarled.

"Just give her the gift! And don't tell her I sent it!" he said, pushing the luxurious box into Sokka's arms.

"Fine, fine, whatever you say," Sokka sighed.

Zuko waited shortly before following Sokka across the Palace's corridors yet again. He moved stealthily, cautiously, hiding behind every statue that could conceal him, waiting patiently whenever Sokka got distracted, or whenever he glanced back, as though aware that someone was chasing after him. Finally, though, he reached Azula's room and knocked the door…

In a matter of five seconds or so, the door swung open. Zuko bit his thumb, watching them impatiently as Azula appeared to stare at Sokka with utmost confusion.

"Hey! Uh, someone sent you this," he said, simply, biting his lip. Zuko grimaced, hoping that'd be enough for Azula to mistake Sokka for being the one responsible for the gesture…

"Someone? What sort of prank is this?" Azula asked, skeptical, raising her hand to brush her bangs from her face elegantly.

"It's… hopefully, not a prank? To be honest, I should've checked the inside myself…" Sokka admitted, tugging the bindings of the box loose. Azula raised an eyebrow, watching him cautiously. "It's probably nothing that bad, but I can't be sure…"

"Are you unfamiliar with the sender? Took up a job delivering packages on the side? Here I thought being an ambassador paid well…"

"It does," Sokka smiled. "I'm just doing someone a favor, that's all…"

"Someone?" Azula repeated, skeptical.

Oh, it was working. It was absolutely working, she'd see the gift and assume it was Sokka's. Everything would go exactly as planned this time, Zuko was sure of it…!

"Alright… step back, in case there's some weird explosive?" Sokka smiled at Azula. She scoffed.

"I can control an explosion with my bending if need be. Just do it," she said. Sokka shrugged and obeyed.

He raised the lid of the gift's box only to find a silken dress with blue colors and white highlights. Azula raised an eyebrow, and Sokka's jaw dropped: it looked like a Water Tribe-themed dress, for sure. And the only Water Tribe person in the Palace, at the moment, was standing right next to Azula. Surely, all the suspicion would fall to him…

"Woah," Sokka said, scratching his head. "That's… fancy. Way fancier than any of my tribe's clothes…"

"Is that so?" Azula asked. Zuko nearly jumped in glee: she didn't believe him! She didn't! Had he succeeded this time, for sure…? "Well… to be honest, assuming you sent this would imply you have great taste in clothes, so…"

"Hey! I DO have great taste in clothes, mind you, and… wait, that sounds like you like it? A blue outfit, Princess? You're sure? People might start thinking you like my culture of savages, eh, eh?"

"No one would assume that, the color may be similar to your tribe's traditional colors, but the cut, and the design, are completely Fire Nation," Azula explained, unfolding the dress gently. "So, the question is… who has the means to commission a dress as fancy as this one, and request one of the most uncommon dye colors in the Fire Nation for it?"

"Eeeeh…" said Sokka, with an awkward smile.

"Not you, that's who," Azula said, sighing and shaking her head. "Whatever. Thank you for bringing it anyway."

"Not a problem," Sokka grinned, offering her a thumbs up after he handed the box to the Princess. "See you around!"

Azula nodded, and Sokka walked away. And Zuko was left crouching by the statue he'd been hiding behind, snarling yet again: why did it have to be so difficult? If he didn't know better, he'd assume they were making fun of him by playing dumb to this extent… ugh, it was infuriating.

But again, he wasn't done: something would work eventually. There was no way the two smartest people he knew would be this thickheaded and this resistant to the obvious, blatant, clear fact that they were MEANT for each other…

...

Another council meeting should be another opportunity to make the Fire Nation a better place, if Zuko was asked… but that's not how reality worked. Instead, it was merely another chance for his lords and military heads to continue antagonizing each other, constantly attempting to prove they were the most talented, the most loyal, the most impressive of his subjects. Getting anything done was, actually, as good as impossible.

Azula eyed him warily once the meeting was adjourned, waiting for him to climb off the throne, looking more drained than ever.

"Are they really getting to you that badly?" she asked. Zuko sighed and shrugged.

"I guess?" he said. "It's a drag. I thought we could make things better, you know? That a new era would begin with my rule, and it has, but… I could do so much more if I didn't have to go through so many protocols for even the smallest project."

"I suppose, but that's the way it works," Azula shrugged. "You need to learn how to slither through the cracks to achieve whatever you're setting out to do, Zuko. Most political challenges can't be handled through straightforward means, you understand…"

"I know, but it sucks," he groaned. "I… guess I just need to relax."

"What? Not getting it on enough with Suki lately?" Azula teased him. "Don't tell me you've already bored her…"

"N-no! That's not…! You shouldn't even ask that sort of stuff!" Zuko exclaimed, blushing. "Though… well, Suki's pretty busy most the time organizing patrols and working to keep the Palace safe. And ever since we got together, well…"

"You deliberately spend less time together in public so you won't alarm the wrong people about your relationship, I know," Azula recited, nodding. "You just want to see more of her, then?"

"Well, yeah, but I'm not that unreasonable, I know it can't always happen," Zuko sighed. "When I said I needed to relax, I meant more like… the royal spa?"

"Ah… sure," Azula said, nodding. "I guess you could visit it more often."

"You go a lot, right?" Zuko said. "In the mornings? Or do you go in the evenings? I just want to make sure I don't go at the same time as you, could be awkward and all…"

"So considerate," Azula said, raising an eyebrow. "I tend to go at ten in the morning, and I stay for around an hour, if you really must know."

"Cool. I'll go at eleven, not ten. Eleven, not ten. Eleven, not ten…" Zuko started, stepping towards the throne room's archway. Azula scoffed as she watched him leave.

"Keep saying that, and you'll end up mixing up the times!" Azula growled.

"I wouldn't do that! It's not at ten, but at eleven!" Zuko said, nodding. "See? I got it! Totally got it!"

Azula's judgmental glare followed Zuko, he could tell… but he could also tell she wouldn't see the mischievous smirk on his face as he left the premises, knowing exactly where he'd go next.

Sokka was training with a sword in the palace grounds when Zuko came across him. He smiled and waved at the Fire Lord, who grinned innocently right back at him.

"Say, Sokka… have you been to the royal spa lately?" Zuko asked him, once Sokka lowered his sword.

"Oh, hello, Zuko! Nice to see you too!" Sokka teased him. Zuko rolled his eyes.

"I just haven't been going often lately, is all," he continued. Sokka huffed. "It's a little weird, getting into that habit, but I think it'll help. I haven't been feeling like myself lately…"

"Yeah… you're a bit off," Sokka admitted, smiling awkwardly. "I don't really use it much, myself, but why do you ask?"

"Just thought it might be a little less awkward if I go with someone I can chat with?" Zuko said, smiling weakly.

"Really? But you've never been all that talkative" Sokka chuckled: Zuko's stomach, of course, sank. "Oh well, I guess that's why you don't like the spa, because you have no one to talk with while the procedures are being done? I suppose I can help, then, but… why me and not Suki?"

"Suki is probably busy at the only hour of the day I can afford to do this" Zuko said "I'd much rather go with her too, you know? But what can I do…? Besides, the staff members might suspect, and then everyone will know…"

"Zuko, I'm pretty sure most people already know about you two," Sokka smirked. Zuko flinched.

"Well, but it isn't official! Just rumors!" he pouted. "And I'm not ready to go public yet, neither is she. So… you know, I'd rather keep suspicions to a minimum."

"Whatever you say, whatever you say…" Sokka sighed. "What time do you want me to be there, then?"

"At ten?" Zuko smiled, again with a hint of mischief he couldn't quite contain. And it grew stronger when Sokka merely nodded positively.

"Alright. Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, let's see how it goes for one day, right?" Zuko said, casually. "Keep up the good work."

"Sure! Thanks!" Sokka grinned.

Oh, at this point he'd do better not to have high hopes, but he crossed his fingers and begged the universe inwardly to allow this one to bear some kind of fruit. If only they stopped resisting so much, damn it all… this was for their own good! It was worse than trying to get a toddler to swallow medicine, really…

On the next morning, his hiding place was the outside the Palace building itself: he stood in the gardens, surveilling the spa from a large window that allowed a perfect view of the spa's doors. He stood in place, ten minutes in advance, waiting patiently, clad in an inconspicuous black robe with a hood that should conceal his identity and hide him in a shroud of darkness, even if his sister or friend noticed he was around… he bit his lip, waiting still, knowing they'd both arrive eventually – Azula hated being late to any appointments, and Sokka wasn't the type to reject any chances to laze around and be pampered.

If all went well, they'd enter the spa together. Perhaps they'd bond… perhaps they'd do more than that, an idea that, despite Zuko's resolve to accept his sister's love life was none of his concern, was slightly unnerving to consider. All things considered, though, the two of them were too smart, and fully aware of how dangerous it could be to take a relationship too far while unprepared. They knew self-restraint, of course they did. They would, at most, go as far as to kiss… and then they'd decide on how to progress with their relationship in a responsible manner, until they eventually chose to marry, and by the time the wedding happened, everyone would be laughing as they shared the story of how their relationship began because Zuko, oh, silly Zuko, had given Sokka the wrong time for a spa visit, and Sokka had attended it with Azula instead…

Busy imagining such a joyous occasion, Zuko was snapped out of his daydream suddenly when a shadow crossed his line of sight: he shrank instinctively, but then glanced through the window once more… it was Azula. Good. If she went in now, Sokka would follow, neither knowing the other was inside, and then…!

Azula had reached for the doorknob but stopped cold suddenly… glancing at her left. Zuko grimaced. That couldn't be good.

With difficulty, he pushed the window open lightly, just enough to hear any conversations within that hallway, not enough to make noticeable noise, while watching as Azula toyed with a strand of her hair…

"… You're here? Why?"

"Uh… because Zuko told me he wanted to meet up with me for a visit to the spa? He told me to come at ten…"

"Ugh, the Dum-Dum mixed up the time, exactly what I told him he'd do! I warned him if he kept being foolish he'd end up coming here at the same time I did and… ugh, what would you do if you had a brother as forgetful as mine, Sokka?"

"Probably take advantage of that forgetfulness and prank him until he lost his mind?"

"That… isn't half bad an idea, actually. Good thinking."

"Anyway, I'm thinking Zuko just told me ten but meant eleven? You can go ahead, I'll wait for him out here."

"Thank you. Whenever he shows up, please kick him in the shin for me."

"Sure thing!"

Zuko huffed: this was impossible. They were impossible! What the hell was that?! They'd just respectfully chosen to go separately to the spa?! What was wrong with them?!

Oh, it was the last straw. He couldn't take it anymore. He was too young for all this stress, his hair would turn white, his heart was going to fail him… he couldn't stand it. He felt humiliated, despite no one had mocked him directly, but it seriously appeared as though those two knew exactly what they were doing to him. And he was definitely not amused.

"Screw it. Screw them, this is just…!" he rambled, shutting the window quietly again as he snarled. "They don't deserve each other! That's the truth! They want to die alone, fine, they can just go ahead and do that! I'm tired of trying to do right by anyone, it's a complete waste of…!"

"Zuko?"

He nearly screamed upon hearing someone addressing him directly. He didn't manage to hold back a light yelp, and a jump… as he turned to look at Suki. Who stood behind him, her Kyoshi Warrior uniform as impeccable as ever, her unyielding scowl judging Zuko as harshly as could be.

"U-uh, I… I can explain," he said.

"Right! You certainly should explain why you're sneaking around your own palace, dressed in a black hood as though you were a criminal, breaking into the place!" Suki smiled sardonically, crossing her arms over her chest. "For a minute there I seriously thought I should fling my katana at you. Be grateful I reconsidered and decided to figure out who you were, first."

"Sorry! I didn't meant to… ugh, Suki, it's just…" Zuko said, tense. "You know what it is."

"Uh, no, I certainly don't," she said, dryly.

"Well, you were there! You know, when I had that dream?" Zuko said. Suki's face was a mask of confusion until realization sank in. "Y-you know, the one about…?"

"About Sokka and Azula?" Suki finished, and her confusion was only further enhanced… while paired with not a moderate amount of outrage. "Zuko… have you lost your mind?!"

"I… hey! I'm fine, I'm not crazy, I'm just…!"

"Tell me, right now, that you didn't spend the last three days being so scarce, so distracted, disregarding your duties, simply because you were coming up with every strategy you could think of to matchmake those two without their awareness."

Zuko opened his mouth, and then closed it. Suki released a breath, covering her face with her hands as Zuko started chortling awkwardly.

"I-it's not that bad, is it?! I mean…! They get along enough that if they just give each other a chance, they'll see…!"

"Zuko: it's THEIR lives!" Suki exclaimed, stepping up to him and grabbing his shoulders. "You can't just try to manipulate people into doing whatever you want them to! That's not you, that never was you! For crying out loud, Zuko, just… be reasonable, can you? Whatever you saw in your dream doesn't give you the right to interfere in two people's lives this way!"

"But I'm not doing it to hurt them!" Zuko exclaimed, acutely aware that he sounded like a child throwing a tantrum. "Look, I just…! I want Sokka and Azula to be happy the way I am with you! I never imagined I'd care this much, but it turns out I do! And I know I sound and look like I'm losing my mind, but I just really think this could make their lives so much better! My sister has been through so much, Sokka appears to have outright given up on love because it never works for him… isn't it a good idea to help them regain hope through each other?"

"It's not a bad idea, no. But it's not up to you to decide this, Zuko," Suki sighed, taking his face in her hands. "And all this sneaking around… it's not going to help."

"I know. I know…" Zuko sighed, lowering his gaze.

Yes, the sneaking around probably was only hurting his cause further. But maybe that was the extent of the problem… maybe he just had to stop beating around the bush, and tell the pair of fools the truth, blunt and honest. If he did, surely they'd understand… hopefully, they'd test the waters of a relationship together, and that was all he really needed and wanted from them. Everything else was secondary.

"You need something else to focus on other than work, I bet," Suki sighed. "And that's why you're so hung up on this. We'll find you another hobby, Zuko, a less troublesome one than matchmaking…"

"Fine, but… I'll tell them both the truth," Zuko said, startling Suki.

"You'll… what?"

"Tell them, outright. I know they'll be the ones to decide what to do, I get it, they might say I'm crazy and that they never want to be with each other…" Zuko sighed. "But even then, I think I should tell them what I think, let them know I'm okay with it… if that makes sense."

"Well, I suppose it is better than sneaking around," Suki sighed, shaking her head. "You be careful though, Zuko. Make it clear you're not forcing anything on them, and that you just want to help. And if they reject that help, you'll put this aside, and go on with your life. Are we clear?"

"We're clear," he said. Suki sighed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

"I know you mean no harm. I hope they'll know it too. Just… you're too good for your own good sometimes, Zuko," Suki said, caressing his cheek. Zuko sighed, wrapping his arms around her body and dropping his head on her shoulder. "Though… well, I know I started it, but we probably shouldn't be doing this in broad daylight, should we…?"

"Meh," Zuko said, tightening his hold around her. "Just a little longer…"

She helped him ground himself, that was a certainty. With Suki's comforting presence he could come back to his senses, perhaps, and understand he'd gone too far… and that he needed to stay in his lane from now on. It was the best thing to do, the best way to proceed…

But first, he'd tell them the truth. And he knew the chance to do so would arrive within an hour.

...

"Ah, if it isn't the fancy Fire Lord, the guy who gives me the wrong time for our big spa visit!" Sokka announced, as Zuko entered the spa's corridor, five minutes before Azula's hour was up. "I nearly went in there with Azula instead, you know? She's still inside, but I think we can go after she's…"

"Sokka. We need to talk."

Sokka blinked blankly, his hand still gesturing at the spa's door. Those words were quite ominous, Zuko supposed, but perhaps if Sokka expected something too awful, he'd be much more receptive to the idea of being set up with Azula for a date, at the very least…

"What, exactly, do we need to talk about?" Sokka asked, with a slowly widening awkward grin. "I mean, you said you wanted someone to talk with while you were in the spa, but I didn't think you needed to talk while we're outside it, too…"

"Enough rambling," Zuko said, dismissively. Sokka pouted, hands on his hips. "I have something serious to talk to you about, Sokka. At least, it means a lot to me, and I hope it'll mean something to you too, once I'm done."

"Well, you're not being ominous at all," Sokka said, rolling his eyes. "Is this why you've been acting so weird lately?"

"Yeah. You could say that," Zuko admitted, breathing in. "Look, you… you're one of my best friends. And while I guess you could be satisfied with life as you are living it now, I also think there's a chance you're not satisfied at all, and you just don't want to burden the rest of us with the truth…"

"Uh… I'm not? I mean, thanks for the concern, Zuko, but I'm actually fine…?" Sokka said, eyeing his friend warily.

"Look, I'll just… come out and say it," Zuko said, breathing deeply. "I… had a vision. You were in it. With… someone."

"With someone?" Sokka repeated. "What kind of vision? Are you getting spirit-y visions these days too, kind of like Aang used to? Or is this sort of thing common for you…?"

"I don't know, I don't know, maybe I'm just losing it, maybe dreams are just meant to be dreams but this one spoke so clearly about things that I…! That I never even thought about," Zuko said, looking at Sokka almost pleadingly. "And I think it opened my eyes to the truth that… that there's someone out there who might just be everything you'd needed, Sokka. And if that's how it is, then I… I want to encourage you to go for it, I give you my… my blessing? As weird as it sounds."

"Dude… what the hell is going on here?" Sokka asked, inching away from Zuko warily. "You said you'd come out and say it, well, nothing you've said so far makes sense. Are you telling me I should date, or heck, even MARRY, someone… just because you saw them with me in a vision?"

"Well… yes!" Zuko exclaimed, with full conviction. Sokka's eyes narrowed.

"And… who, exactly, are you talking about?" he said, allowing himself a weak, sarcastic smile as he waited for Zuko's answer "Who's this person I should be with?"

Zuko breathed deeply, wishing he weren't so nervous upon uttering those syllables… but he was strong enough to do it. He hadn't come this far in life by being a coward: he'd absolutely do it.

"I'm talking about… about Azula," Zuko finished.

Sokka froze, his eyes widening in amusing, slow motion. It was as though realization was dawning on him, regarding each and every one of Zuko's actions as of late, and Zuko felt like a fool, but he didn't care. No, if this meant his sister would find peace and happiness, he'd endure whatever Sokka dared throw at –…

Sokka covered his mouth with a hand, and snorted. Zuko's eyebrow twitched.

"Did you just…?"

Another hand, and another chortle. Zuko's outrage was on the rise.

"Sokka?! Are you… are you LAUGHING?!"

There was no containing the Water Tribesman anymore: he dropped his hands and laughed so hard the entire Palace was likely hearing him. He doubled over, hugging his stomach, tears springing in the corners of his eyes…

"Y-you just said…!" he managed to utter, with a threat of a voice before he was overtaken with laughter again. "Oh…! Oh, no, I'm not gonna…! I can't…! I'm… AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

With a strange posture, with his legs awkwardly twisted together, Sokka started jumping away, no doubt suggesting the laughter was strong enough to trigger certain, impulsive, bodily reactions that excessive amusement could sometimes result in. Zuko watched him shrink in the corridor, listening to the ongoing laughs, and shaking his head in outrage.

"YOU KNOW WHAT?! I TAKE IT BACK! YOU DON'T DESERVE THIS! YOU DON'T DESERVE HER! SCREW YOU, SOKKA!" he shouted, impulsively, angry enough that fire danced in his tight fists. Oh, how dared he laugh…? And laugh that loudly, too! Curses, he hoped to get a similar dream soon, of Azula with just about ANYONE else, and then he'd set up those two instead, and Sokka would learn, the bastard…

"And what the hell is the matter with you?"

Zuko froze: he had forgotten, completely, that he was standing at the spa's entrance… and that his sister was merely five minutes away from stepping out of it. Perhaps his outburst had even compelled her to leave sooner, and while her hair was shiny and her skin was bright and clear, her countenance betrayed she was most displeased by Zuko's loud shouting. Zuko swallowed hard, turning towards his sister apologetically.

"I… I'm sorry. Oh, hell, I really am sorry," Zuko growled, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. Azula crooked an eyebrow.

"You're sorry…? Is this a multipurpose apology?" she asked. Zuko flinched and stared at her in chagrin.

"Why would it be a…?"

"Well, you see, I'm still waiting for a lot of apologies from you," Azula confessed, raising her eyebrows. "All the times you tattled on me as children, that time you ate my dessert and claimed it wasn't you, that time you locked me in an asylum, too…"

"H-hey, that's not…! No! I am apologizing for a specific thing here!"

"Ah! Then you truly aren't sorry for any of those things, to this day? Shame on you, Zuzu," Azula said, shaking her head dismissively. Zuko growled.

"I'm sorry because I was doing something I hoped would help you in the long run, but clearly I was wrong!" Zuko huffed. "That bastard… laughing like that? Who the hell told him he had any right to laugh at this?! I actually had to wrap my head around this idea, and to put aside my natural older-brother instincts of disgust at the thought of my sister with anyone, and he just LAUGHS?!"

"Uh… what did you just say?" Azula said, with an awkward smile… not too different from Sokka's own, earlier. "You wrapped your head around the idea that… I could be with someone?"

"I did!" Zuko exclaimed. "And then he just… threw it back in my face! Like an idiot!"

"He? Who's… he? The person you're trying to set me up with?" Azula asked, and her discomfort only seemed to increase. "Or is it just someone you were sharing your marvelous ideas with…?"

"Well… both," Zuko admitted, almost pouting now. "But I'm sorry. He's not worthy of you. Someone who hears about this and laughs like that is just… Ack! I should kick him out of the palace in your behalf…"

"I still have no idea who you're talking about," Azula reminded him. Zuko breathed deeply and huffed to release the air, averting his gaze from Azula's own:

"It's Sokka."

Azula fell silent. Zuko glanced at her quickly, wondering if she'd be disheartened, disappointed that that fool would be so dismissive of her potential as his love inte–…

She covered her mouth with both hands, and snorted.

"What…? WHAT?!" Zuko shouted, and just as before, Azula nearly lost her balance as she was overtaken by the strongest laughter spree he had ever heard from her. "OH, YOU KNOW WHAT?! YOU KNOW WHAT, YOU TWO ASSHOLES, I'M DONE! I'M DONE! SUKI WAS RIGHT, I SHOULD'VE NEVER TRIED TO HELP! YOU'RE JUST AS BAD AS HIM! I'M SO DONE WITH THIS! I'M NOT GETTING INVOLVED WITH YOUR PERSONAL LIFE EVER AGAIN, AZULA!"

He stormed off… and her laughter only seemed more intense as he left. Oh, he was seething. He was absolutely seething: what on earth was so funny?! What was wrong with those two?! He couldn't stand it. He had done his best by them, and they had laughed and thrown all his efforts in his face… how could they do this to him? He had been nothing but kind to Sokka, especially after he broke up with Suki, and even more so once Zuko was drawn to her, years later… he had been as generous with Azula as he could be, learning to be more patient, to offer her more opportunities to help run things in the Fire Nation, to find a purpose…!

And yet the pair of bastards had just laughed at him and all his efforts. The worst part was that their damn reactions had been as good as copies of each other: they were, in the end, completely perfect for one another. There was no sense in feeling bad for Azula, not when she had thought the idea of being with Sokka was just as laughable as, apparently, Sokka thought being with her was. So, they truly were as bad as the other… they truly were. It should further confirm they were perfect soulmates! But no, they'd rather just forsake all their chances at finding love… and truthfully? He was done caring. He was absolutely done. They could do whatever they wanted. He wouldn't even THINK about this nonsense anymore…

Or so he intended to convince himself of, but by nighttime, he laid in bed, arms crossed over his chest, still fuming as he went over the morning's events in his head. Suki sighed as she slipped into bed, reaching to massage Zuko's chest gently.

"You do realize you're as good as self-destructing over this, while those two are completely unaffected by what happened?" Suki asked. Zuko huffed and shook his head.

"They'll be affected enough when they die alone. Pair of idiots," he said. "So much for trying to be a good brother for Azula… or a good friend for Sokka. Is it too much to ask that they'd just take the possibility seriously? And I mean, even if they hate the idea, they could just… respectfully say "No, Zuko, I don't think it's a good idea", and that's it! Problem solved! But noooo, they just laughed like the mere image of them together was the most hilarious joke in the history of the world…!"

"I don't really know why they'd laugh that much, Zuko, but dear… I mean it. You need to stop thinking about this," Suki said, cupping his face, her fingers gently touching his scar. "We're all adults here, there's no reason why any of us ought to make choices for anyone else. I'm sorry they were so stupidly rude but…"

"Ugh. It's their loss," Zuko growled, wrapping his arms around his lover and pressing his face to her shoulder. "I just wanted to help, but…"

"Not everyone wants help," Suki reminded him, caressing his hair. "But you do want some, right?"

"What do you mean…?" Zuko mumbled quietly, glancing up at Suki to find her smiling slyly at him.

"I think I have an idea or two on what to do to get this nonsense off your mind…" she whispered, leaning closer, her hand sliding lower than his chest…

And she was right about that idea, for sure: Zuko smiled for what felt like the first time in the entire week, taking her into his arms…

...

Sweat trailed between the heated bodies that swayed, thrusted, shifted together. Their rhythm only accelerated, despite her body was already weakened by a previous release… but her lover was not only generous, but resilient. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, thrusting harder as he leaned over her, nibbling on her neck, kissing her cheek whenever he eased up, embracing her from behind while relentlessly driving and plowing forward. She held herself upright with difficulty, her elbows trembling, same as her spread legs…

"I'm close… I'm close…!"

"Come for me, then… Just for me…"

Words spoken with a throaty growl sent her very soul reeling: the hand that had been fondling one of her breasts now snuck lower, finding her clit and prodding it mercilessly: cries of blissful desperation tumbled from her lips, and there was no holding on, no endurance that could withstand the rushing onslaught of pleasure. And yet she knew he wasn't done: no, he didn't like finishing this way. She shuddered and nearly collapsed, but he held her closely anyway, groaning as her walls squeezed him delightfully.

"That's it… that's my girl…"

Anyone else saying those words would have been outrageous, but not him. He tore down all her defenses, all her dignity and decorum, and she damn near thanked him for it: it was blissful to let go of all pretenses, to bare herself fully to someone, for she knew he was doing the same with her, too. As soon as this had started between them, the whole world had started taking a different shape… as though they were seeing it with clear eyes, for the very first time. As though each of their matching heartbeats resounded together, dismissing every hint of fog that sought to hinder their hearts until they had found their true selves upon finding each other…

He withdrew, but not completely: only enough to turn her around, so she could lie upon his bed's many disorderly sheets, cushions and pillows. She looked luxuriously beautiful amidst them all, her hair an unkempt mess that guaranteed she'd need another royal hair-combing on the next morning, as it ever did…

"Azula…" he whispered, setting her down carefully: only his tip lingered inside her, as his face hovered inches from her own.

Her weak arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in for a long kiss, in which they exchanged long, throaty groans, and their tongues caressed and toyed together as much as they pleased. Wordlessly, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, forcing him to enter her fully again… this time, facing her. He'd definitely finish now, the way he always liked to.

"Make love to me, Sokka…" Azula said, her voice weak between so many heartfelt kisses. "I'm yours… I'm yours…"

He groaned in response and thrusted: she whimpered and moaned, and he thrusted again and again, regaining his lost rhythm in her, following suit with her rolling hips. They joined their bodies powerfully, delighted by the synched thrills that coursed under their skin…

So powerful he was, so strong with that physique worthy of a god, that he knew exactly how to hold back, how to last longer, as long as he could until she came undone around him at least one more time… and she was close to doing so, so overcome by pleasure she couldn't help but show him her most honest façade, with no lies, no deceit, no masks to hide away who she truly was… or what he truly meant for her.

Just so, he showed her his deepest self, the devoted protector, the man who only thought of others ahead of himself. The one who couldn't ever seem to think of his own pleasure, for he was that set on providing as much of it as he could to her. So many underestimated him, failing to see just how strong, how soulful he could be… but not her. She knew him, saw him for who he was, and loved him just as much as he loved her.

And so every kiss they shared was a blissful height, just as every chance to link their bodies, every caress they exchanged, brought their hearts further together, blending the limits and boundaries that existed between them, as though they were becoming but one soul, one being…

His release was impending: he let her catch her breath for mere seconds before trapping her lips again, thrusting as frantically as she did, both their bodies as good as melting together once a resounding, potent climax tore through their systems, nearly powerful enough to break their kiss… only nearly. He held on, wanting to feel her, every inch of her, and she clung to him just as well, her nails raking his back, her pelvis meeting his own with the power of their desperate thrusts.

They didn't slow down their kisses, not even when their rolling hips finally eased to a halt. Their exciting bliss lingered, as good as blinding them to anything else in the world… to the mess they'd made of the fancy bed – the servants had given both of them the stink-eye for that often, as they switched between meeting in his or her room. There was no doubt in either of their minds that the evidence of their transgressions was too obvious for the maids' eyes: they knew what the two of them they were doing… and even then, they had kept their silence, fortunately.

Or, at least, they had thought it was a fortunate thing until today. Perhaps the events of that morning had a hand in the wild tryst they'd just indulged in… but even now, a sudden burst of laughter crossed Azula's face, and Sokka didn't even need to ask what was so funny: he simply joined her too, kissing her brow softly as he indulged in the beautiful, blissful sound of her voice.

"I… I can't believe we were hiding all along… thinking he'd make such a fuss if he knew, and instead…" Azula started, before a strong spree of laughter overtook her anew.

"It's not entirely his fault that he was so clueless. You just made a very convincing hungover Princess that other morning, who would've thought you could barely walk for a much more exciting reason…?" Sokka teased her, kissing her deeply, taking advantage of her ongoing laughter to taste her smiles fully, and respond to them with his own. "I'm sorry you had to drink that mess of a hangover cure unnecessarily, though. I really thought he'd have left before I returned with it…"

"Well, you owe me seven more rounds of this before I can forgive you for that," Azula declared, haughtily. Sokka snorted.

"I thought we had agreed the fee for my terrible crime was ten orgasms, not ten rounds…" he said, nibbling on her lower lip. Azula snickered.

"Absolutely not. Ten rounds, full rounds. No half-assing it, my handsome stud," she said, slapping his asscheek lightly, and yet the spanking sound seemed to resound across his room.

Sokka laughed, kissing her again, repeatedly, a thousand times if he could. Oh, he'd give her ten rounds… and then ten more. And then a million, and even more than that… his ever-growing love for her overwhelmed him, and he was decidedly addicted to showing how much he cherished her physically. If only he could stay in bed with her for a whole week… no, even that wouldn't be enough. For a lifetime, at best… and even then, he'd want her again, on the next one, and on the next. Their very souls were bonded together, and that was how he wanted them to remain, for good…

"It's just so funny because… the maids always know," Azula interrupted his spree of kisses and train of thought, dragging her hands lavishly over his back.

"Most of the servants figured us out forever ago," Sokka confirmed, laughing. "And Toph… she knows too. I told you she started messing with me by mentioning you suggestively ever since that day at Air Temple Island…"

"Heh. And somehow your sister still hasn't unraveled the truth," Azula smirked. "I bet Toph outright told her about us and she decided it was impossible."

"Yeah, sounds like both of them," Sokka acknowledged, grinning. "But apparently our code worked perfectly, right? The hair thing… seems Zuko never even noticed it's our special warning for every suspicious situation, right?"

"He'd never be sharp enough to understand our superior intellects, are you really surprised?" Azula smirked, still basking in the sensual strength of his muscular back. "The question is, though… how, exactly, are we going to break this to Zuko now…?"

"Yeah, well…" Sokka said, chortling again, laughing as he pressed his brow to hers. "I seriously thought he'd want to kill me. I never imagined he'd… say he'd even give us his blessing?"

"He told you that?" Azula laughed. Sokka smiled and shrugged.

"Your brother's a bit silly, but I guess he does mean well. And… your question still stands," Sokka said, raising his eyebrows. "How will we tell him we've been going at it like rabaroos for about…"

"Five years?" Azula finished, closing her eyes with a proud smile. Sokka snorted and laughed against her chest. "I don't know how he never suspected it, frankly. You literally congratulated him and Suki, didn't even look like it bothered you at all once they told us…"

"Yeah…" Sokka smiled. "Because it didn't. As soon as I got close to you, I knew where I belonged. And it's right here, with you."

"Hmm, not necessarily here," Azula teased him. "You were looking into whatever excuse you could to spend time in the Fire Nation once we got started… and when Zuko asked me to be his representative in Republic City, you just happened to move there too. And now, oh, how shocking, you became ambassador for the Water Tribe in the Fire Nation exactly a week after I was brought back home… so, well, it can be anywhere, as long as we're together."

"Exactly," Sokka grinned, pressing a soft kiss to her upper breast. "You're my home. I'll chase after you wherever you may go."

"Sounds good to me, because you're mine too," she whispered, slipping her fingers through his smooth, loose hair. "Though that still doesn't answer how we'll ever tell him the truth."

"Hmm. How about we tell him we thought things over and realized he was right, and…"

"And let him believe he set us up successfully? Oh, but that's too considerate towards him…" Azula smirked. Sokka laughed against her chest again, shaking his head. "No, no, no. Letting him think he discovered we're soulmates when we first realized and acted upon it five years ago is just no fun."

"I guess," Sokka chuckled. "He was just so outraged…"

"Well, if he wants us together so badly, he should be thrilled once he finds out that we are," Azula smiled. Sokka grinned mischievously at her. "Regardless of how he finds out. Or what we say to explain…"

"We should just upfront announce our wedding," Sokka decided. Azula snorted and laughed yet again. "Oh, you think it's funny? C'mon, don't play coy now, you said you'd marry me…"

"I'm just imagining his face if we show up at breakfast tomorrow and blatantly announce we're engaged," Azula laughed, tightening her embrace around her also-laughing lover. "Though it's probably not a great idea, he'll assume we're making fun of him again…"

"He always assumes that. Your brother is hopeless," Sokka smiled. "Well, you know what? I think… we just have to stop hiding. As in…"

"Oh, I don't think I'm ready to have sex in a public place, but if you really think that's a good idea…"

"No!" Sokka laughed, shaking his head and kissing her lips. Azula snickered, letting him tickle her in retaliation for her teasing. "I mean… let's just stop avoiding each other or acting as aloof and distant as we usually do during the day. We'll just… walk out of here together in the morning, no sneaking around. Lots of hand-holding, and public displays of affection…"

"And not quite in his face, we would be doing it casually, so people start talking, and rumors reach him…"Azula smiled slowly.

"And then when he sees us being stupidly, embarrassingly romantic, he'll either be smart enough to know we've been at this forever and that we only laughed yesterday because the irony of the situation was overwhelming…" Sokka chuckled. "Or he'll be silly enough to think we got together over our shared laughter at his ideas, and assume he's the entire reason our relationship began."

"Hmm… that is a good idea," Azula said, smirking. "Then, when our wedding arrives, we can talk about how long we've truly been together in our vows… and then he'll lose his shit in the middle of the temple."

"See? Perfect. We always have the best ideas, Azula," Sokka chuckled, kissing her again.

"That's what happens when two ridiculously smart people are as compatible as we are," Azula whispered, trailing her fingers over his cheek. "Ah… I guess a new life begins now, huh? If we'll finally be out in the open about our relationship…"

"Ready for it?" Sokka asked. "I know there will be some backlash, but…"

"But if I'm the trailblazing, controversial royal who marries a foreigner first, it might help Zuko, when his time comes," Azula said, smiling a little. "Putting up with whatever judgment the people may make of us should help everyone prepare for… well, what should come one day, as long as those two stay together."

"Which means, we're even doing them a favor. Perfect," Sokka grinned. "Ah, I can't wait for tomorrow now… pretending I'm single is a pain when all I want to do is scream to the world that I love you."

"I'm glad you feel like doing that…" Azula said, caressing his arm as she pulled him higher on the bed. "Though, well, I can't promise I'll join you in screaming that way. It sounds, eh, a little embarrassing…"

"Just a little?" Sokka asked, prodding her nose with his own playfully. "That's fine by me, if it's really just a little. I'll assume it's the shouting that embarrasses you, and not saying you love me"

"Indeed," Azula grinned, resting her head against his. "Tomorrow, then…?"

"Yeah… we'll see things through by tomorrow," Sokka said, taking her hand in his, to press his lips to her knuckles. "May the world know a Princess has conquered me completely."

"And may the world know a mighty warrior has conquered me," Azula grinned. "I don't really know how big a change this will be… but I think I'm ready for it."

"So am I," Sokka said, leaning close to kiss her softly.

Whether or not their truth would sit well with Zuko once he understood it in full remained to be seen – knowing Azula's overdramatic brother, he'd probably take everything the wrong way, or at least, he would until he saw irrefutable proof that they were happy together… that they had been, for a long time. That they would still be happy, no matter if their families, or friends, or the whole world, weren't ready to accept their love yet. For their bond was theirs, and only the two of them could decide its beginning or end… though, as things stood, the latter was simply unlikely to happen at all.

For in every kiss, in every breath, in every heartbeat they shared, their love was renewed, strengthened, cemented into their hearts and souls. And on the eve of the day that would certainly bring many changes to their lives, it was doubtless that they would continue to spend a lifetime falling in love with each other, drawn together without restraint, finding belonging and peace in each other's light and darkness, weaknesses and strengths, calms and storms alike. And as much as their relationship had already blossomed across five years, it seemed to the two blissful lovers that their journey was only just beginning…

...

Zuko smiled brightly as he made his way to his office, after receiving the petitioners of the day and dismissing them with either accepted or rejected requests, depending on how reasonable they might have been. Whether they were unpleasant or not, however, his mood appeared to be impervious to anything right now, all be it the result of the most successful distraction he could have hoped for, on the previous night. He wasn't usually so cheerful, anyone would confirm as much, but Suki certainly had ways to make a brightly happy man out of him, like no one else did…

Though as lost as he was in his own thoughts, delighted by remembering the events from the previous night, he caught the voices of whispering servants just before stepping into a corridor near the gardens.

"… Are you serious? They're really doing that in broad daylight?"

"Why do you think it happened? They always keep their mischief for nighttime, what do you think changed this time?

"Beats me, but I saw what I saw, if you don't believe me you can go watch them yourself…"

"Excuse me?"

The two gossiping servants squealed and squirmed away from him by sheer instinct: the male one appeared to have been the one to witness whatever they were discussing, so Zuko glanced at him.

"Where, exactly, are you saying you saw… whatever you saw?" he asked, with an awkward grin.

"J-just… over there? By the cherry trees you planted last year, Lord Zuko," said the man, swallowing hard as he pointed in the right direction. Zuko smiled and nodded.

"Thank you."

He turned smoothly… and then stormed off at haste. How happy he'd been, his mood completely soothed, his heart rejoicing in the love of his life… and now this. That pair was up to no good again, it had to be them, they had to be doing some sort of wicked scheme together to mock him after he tried to pair them up…!

He stormed through the corridors until the cherry trees in question were in sight. There were a few more onlookers within those corridors, one who sported the familiar Kyoshi Warrior uniform, and beautiful auburn hair. Zuko snuck up to her quickly, placing a hand on the small of her back despite he probably shouldn't have…

"What's going on?" Zuko asked her, unwilling to glance at the trees just yet.

"What's with that face?" Suki asked, teasingly. "And here I thought this was exactly what you wanted…"

Her words gave him pause, and he glanced impulsively at the cherry tree…

To find Sokka and Azula were underneath its shade, sitting comfortably on the ground: Sokka's legs were spread open, enabling Azula to rest against his body, curled against him with a blissful grin on her face. And when petals fell upon her frame, Sokka would fish them out – and she returned the favor too, all between quiet laughter.

"W-what… what is…?" Zuko gasped, his eyes impossibly wide. Suki, beside him, giggled.

"I guess some dreams do come true, Zuko," she said, though she had to loop an arm around his waist quickly when it looked like he might outright lose his balance. "Zuko?"

"Th-those two…" he said, blinking repeatedly, then rubbing his eyes, as though to ensure it wasn't just a dream…

And of course, he couldn't even pretend it was anymore, not when Azula pushed herself a little higher to kiss Sokka fully, boldly, with such shameless abandon it was clear she wanted the whole world to see it. And yet… the intimacy, the way they held each other, suggested that this was no prank, no attempt to make fun of Zuko for his failed attempts to match them on the previous day. No… there was no way they'd smile at each other so earnestly if they weren't serious. He had never seen such a genuine, honest expression on his sister's face… or such a heartfelt, tender one on Sokka's. They only seemed to stop kissing to gaze at each other, and then they merely took to kissing anew, whispering words softly to each other, as though no one else was welcome to intrude… despite, as it was, most everyone in the Palace was either hearing about this or already rushing to see it with their own eyes, much as Zuko had.

"Zuko…?" Suki called him, smiling. "You okay?"

"It… it's fine. I'm fine. I… I was right," he chuckled. "Those two… they do belong together."

"I'm sorry you had to suffer so much to make sure it happened, though," Suki smiled awkwardly. "I still think it would be less rude not to intrude in people's personal lives, but… it didn't turn out so badly, did it?"

Oh, but perhaps it wasn't Zuko's doing, he had to acknowledge as much: the way they acted… it suggested a familiarity, a comfort that wasn't normal in blooming relationships. The way they had laughed the previous day… Zuko had assumed they were ridiculing him. But what if that wasn't it? What if the source of their laughter was actually that their relationship had been happening already, without his awareness, and they were relishing in such an ironic situation?

It was a possibility, most definitely. A rather blissful possibility, in his honest opinion. He'd have to ask them for more details later, he guessed… but as he watched them embracing lovingly, he knew that the most important part had happened already: his sister and his best friend had forged a unique bond, through which they had found true belonging, and genuine happiness. And he could only smile proudly for it, for this was exactly the blissful way of life he had known they could find in each other.

...

Alas, it is done! I thought I'd close my stories with a more humorous oneshot this time, rather than a wildly ambitious one. I honestly hadn't planned on going as crazy as I did with this event... but I regret nothing x'D Writing all these prompts was a blast. I'm grateful to everyone who has been supporting and enjoying my oneshots! I won't deny it, a lot of them warranted being more than oneshots, but because of a certain other fanfiction pursuit that takes over my entire existence, I'd never had the chance to flesh out ideas like Evil Ursa AU, or Azula joins the Gaang AU, or, of course, Aang breaks out of the iceberg many years earlier and saves the world with the parents of the traditional Team Avatar instead. This event presented many opportunities for me to finally put those ideas to good use, and I really think I'm satisfied with the work I did, which is easier said than done for a writer.

Thank you again for all the support, and special thanks to everyone who had a hand in making these Sokkla Saturdays a complete success. I'm beyond proud to have been worked alongside all of you, and I hope I continue to do so for many years to come! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this iteration of Sokkla Saturdays 2020!

[yourfriendslimey]

Clouds of Cream

Pt. 1

Summary- While taking a day to run weekly errands, you take the time to stop at your local cafe where a certain handsome barista happens to work...

Pairing: Mark Tuan x Reader

Genre: Fluff

author’s note: This part is mostly to establish base story, also later parts will contain sexual themes; however, i COULD also produce watered down versions for those of you who enjoy the story but don’t care for those kinds of things. lemme know. Anyways, enjoy <3

WC: 2342

Part. 1- I Never Got Your Name…

Your eyes pried themselves open as the morning sun snuck into your studio apartment. With a heavy arm, you reached over to the tiny bedside table and grabbed your phone. 8:00 a.m…. You groaned, tossed your phone onto the table and pulled the blanket over your face. It was Saturday, your day off work, so you could in theory sleep in. However, you knew if you didn’t get up now then the To-Do list tacked to the cork board above your desk would go unattended. Plus… You thought, sitting up haggardly…I could stop at the café while I’m out…

You had gone to Downtown Brews for the first time a few months ago with a close friend who swore up and down it had THE best coffee. He was right. Now you were all but addicted. The roasts were divine, and the pastries were nothing to scoff at. And often by chance, you were helped by the same barista who, if you dared to say so, was not too hard on the eyes. The barista…You felt guilty not knowing his name by now. Even though you saw him every time you walked through those doors, you never managed to read his nametag. You were always too…distracted.

You let your feet hang off the bed for a few moments while your mind began to wander. As you stood and made your way to your tiny bathroom, you wondered if he even really noticed you. Of course, he recognized your face. You were there all the time. At the counter, he would give a casual smile and in his cool tone say “Hey, y/n, nice to see you again? The usual?” They took names for orders, so yeah, he knew that too. He knew your regular order because it was well... your regular order. But that didn’t mean he really saw you. The café had a lot of regulars, he probably knew a few orders and names by heart. While brushing your teeth you became even more lost in thought… You leaned close the bathroom mirror, analyzing your face. It was still puffy, showing the aftermath of a late night’s sleep. You frowned a little. Maybe he has a girlfriend. Maybe you just weren’t his type. You fed into your dismay while taking a longer than usual shower.

With fresh breath and a newly showered body, you walked to your closet and pulled out a pair of black skinny jeans, an oversized t-shirt with your college mascot on the front, and a grey dad-hat. You might as well be comfortable while running around all day. You grabbed your backpack and tossed in your phone charger, wallet, and keys. You quickly snatched the list from the board and hurried out the front door before the demon that was procrastination could set in.

You groaned as you walked to the end of the hall, anticipating the journey you had to make down the stairs. The elevator was down and had been for months now. The landlord kept telling you someone would be in to fix it next month, but it seemed like next month never came. Instead, you frustratedly stomped down the stairs, each time cursing past you for wanting to live on the third floor.

The building you lived in was nowhere near fancy. But it was home at least. Unlike the buildings uptown, the lobby wasn’t big and beautiful with potted plants and delicate light fixtures. It was more of an extra wide hallway. The walls presented a sickly grey-green on the upper half, the bottom being slowly warping wood paneling. A large portion of the space was dedicated to old metal mailboxes and contained ceiling lights hanging on their last legs; more than half of them flickering or entirely dead. You decided to check your mail later. You never really got anything anyway.

Outside, you were met with a clear sky and smiling summer sun. A warm breeze danced through the branches and the sweet smell of mature flowers blessed your nose. You felt more energized by the perfection of the day and with newfound eagerness, began your walk to the café. You breathed easily, taking in your surroundings. It was around 9:00 a.m. now and most of the city was already awake. Busy men and women walked as fast as their legs could carry them. Some to their respective jobs and others you presumed, to use the day the same as you; going off to clear a long list of errands. The start of summer vacation also meant children with time to kill. Kids ran up and down the sidewalk, getting what you deemed an early start to their day’s mischief. A couple walked hand in hand, giggling and smiling. You could overhear them mention something about grabbing lunch later and maybe seeing a movie. Seeming them happy together sent you into a vivid daydream.

You saw the barista’s warm smile and kind eyes. You confidently sauntered up to the counter, cool as ice. You flashed a cheeky smile that caught him off-guard. “Hey there, what’ll it be?” he said with a fully flushed face. You leaned in real close and looked him in the eyes. With a stolen velvet tongue, you said “A tall, dark, and handsome…”

The cheesiness of the line snapped you out of your trance with a quiet laugh. Before you knew it, you found yourself standing in front of Downtown Brews. It sat gingerly on the corner, beckoning you inside. The coffee cup logo printed on the glass door a sight for sore eyes Through the large window you noticed that almost every seat was full. No big deal since you just wanted to grab something to eat while you walked. You pulled open the door, a small bell jingling overhead. You placed yourself at the end of the line, grateful that it wasn’t too long. The early morning rush had pretty much passed already. You scanned the peaceful scene. Even though it was full, the loudest noises were the clinking of mugs and forks. It was always like this no matter the time of day.

Downtown Brews had that affect on people. The café created a sanctuary away from the loudness of the city. It had a minimalistic look. Plain golden-brown wooden floors, beautifully simple wooden tables and chairs, and small hanging lights that seemed to float in the room. On each table was a centerpiece containing small purple wildflowers in cute white vases that looked like fine china. The walls were mostly windows, save for the left wall that made contact with that of the bookstore next door and the gray brick wall behind the counter. It was decorated with shelves lined with mugs, glasses, and more white vases with various plants and flowers scattered about. You noticed that every week, there was at least one new one. The owner of the place must have had a real love for flora.

You stood for what felt like ages, listening to some poor young intern order complicated coffees and various treats for what seemed to be an entire office. You anxiously switched your weight from one foot to the other, wondering if maybe today you would order something new. And then you saw him. The man who made your face hot and your head cloudy. He was always here when you were, not that you were going to complain about it. He looked so suave in his uniform. The white shirt, black slacks, and black apron on his waist seemed custom made for his slender frame. How could such simple clothes look so good on someone? Your hands felt clammy and your chest went tight. You hated and adored this feeling all at the same time. Taking a few quiet deep breaths, you set your sights back on the menu, busying your mind with deciding about what to order for breakfast.

You studied him as he switched places with another staff member and prepared his customer’s order. The café had a lovely practice. Whoever took your order would also prepare it. This allowed for a more personal experience that resulted in fewer messed up orders. The baristas took turns instinctually; based off who was the least busy.

You gawked at him, transfixed on his form. You watched as he grabbed a few pastries from the glass case in front of him, slid them into a small toaster oven and began fixing the drinks. Every movement was smooth and graceful. He was like an angel. His face was lit up with a precious smile as he handed over the massive order and with a nod chirped “Here you are! You coworkers better say thank you for this. Hope you have a good day.” The intern gave a rushed “Yes, thank you, you too,” and fixed her gaze on the cardboard trays of drinks stacked onto boxes of patisserie. She shuffled away with a sense of urgency you’d never seen.

The barista’s skin was almost glowing. It looked soft and flawless, almost like it had been airbrushed. But it was all too real. You heart began to race as the last person between you and the counter wandered off. You shook your head lightly, trying to snap yourself back to the now.

“Can I help who’s next, please?” the honey voice flooded your ears.

You nearly stumbled up to the register, eyes barely leaving the chalkboard menu hanging above. Even though you weren’t really looking, you could still feel the warmth of his smile. You met his eyes. “Hey y/n. How’s it going? Medium iced coffee with vanilla creamer, three sugars, and cocoa powder on top, right?” You felt the heat rising in your face.

“Hey, uh yeah. I mean, no.” Your voice was almost imprisoned in your throat, impulse taking over.

“Oh, did I get I get it wrong?” he let out a small chuckle and ran a hand through his beautiful hazelnut curls, “Sorry about that, guess I must be a bit tired if I’m forgetting-“

You didn’t mean to, but you cut him off “Not at all. I just wanna switch it up a bit. Today I think I’ll have a medium iced cold brew with sweet cream and caramel this time. And could I also have a cranberry muffin, please?” you smiled shyly, embarrassed knowing that you were obviously flustered.

He smiled wide and clasped his hands together. “Well I see we’re mixingg things up now,” he giggled quietly while punching your order into the automated screen, “Gotta keep me on my toes somehow.” Damn that smile- you took off your backpack and quickly pulled out your wallet. “Is that for here or to go?” He peered up at you, eyes doe-like. “To go, please.” You choked a little and could have sworn you saw a bit of disappointment in his eyes but passed it off. He told you the total and you handed him the cash. “Alrighty, I’ll have everything ready in about ten minutes.” You nodded and gave a small hum as he gave you your change.

You stepped off to the side and let your eyes follow him as he skillfully crafted your drink. His smile was replaced with a stern look as he focused on his task. You wondered if your mouth was watering from the aroma of coffee and hot muffin awaiting you or something else. Suddenly, it hit you that once again you avoided looking at his name tag. You instinctively avoided looking at one part of him too long. As a child mom had taught you it was rude to stare, and that sentiment stuck with you even now. You chastised yourself. It felt as though after you missed it the first time, it felt impolite to check now. But it was ruder to just not know. You always wanted to ask, but avoided it, thinking he would think you were a moron since he clearly has a nametag on. You silently huffed in frustration and made attempts to get a better look. However, you couldn’t get a clear view. If it wasn’t a machine in your way, it was one of the other baristas, or he was simply moving too much or he was turned away from you. Though you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed looking at his back almost as much as his front.

“Y/n, your order’s ready.” His smile had returned as he stepped up to the pickup area.

He held out a small brown paper bag and your drink. “Here you go. Have a good day, and I’ll see you soon.” His face was warm, his smile genuine. You beamed at him and gently took your things Your heart fluttered. Without even thinking, the words flew from your lips. “I’m sorry, I know I come here all the time, but um…” he leaned forward, placing his hands on the counter, “well I don’ actually know your name and i keep forgetting to ask…And it feels rude to not know since you’re such a good server.” He chuckled, raised an eyebrow and smirked. He shook his head lightly and let it drop to the side. “Tsk tsk tsk. And I thought we were friends.” His smile melted your heart. He stood tall and folded is arms.

You apologized again, telling him you knew he had a nametag on but you always forgot to look and began to ramble about feeling nervous to ask and the whole thing. He gently cut you off. “Don’t worry about it. It’s Mark. And now that you know, you better not forget.” He pointed a playfully stern finger at you. The name rang in your head. This man who occupied so much headspace finally had a name. A beautiful one. At least to you. You grinned, “I won’t, I promise. I’ll see you later, Mark.” You turned to leave and as you did, you were certain his smile had grown bigger and his cheeks pinker.

Mark....

[capo-cedes]

Invasion

INVOLVED: Mercedes D’onofrio, Nicholas D’onofrio TIME FRAME: LOCATION: D’onofrio Estate; New York City, New York NOTES: Nicholas and Mercedes house are invaded. 

Mercedes sat at the end of the dinner table, looking at the empty chair on the opposite side of it. She watched the staff  as they set the dinner table to accommodate her for the night, wondering if she’d be eating it all alone. “I will go fetch Mr. D’onofrio” the servant said to her quickly before she rushed off to do as she had stated, going to seek the man out in the massive house before the food got too cold. Or the Mrs. grew fiery over his absence. Mercedes watched the woman as she moved to exit the dining room space, in pursuit of Nicholas and she sighed heavily. Knocking twice on the man’s office door, the older woman stood there upright, waiting for the man to grant her the permission to come in. 

Nicholas' long arm reached out and steadied him against the window seal. If there was something stirring outside, honestly, he couldn’t see it.  Yet, he tried with every ounce of his being.  His eyes caught a brief flicker of motion. His eyes pricked up, shoulders tensing then relaxing just as quickly as he realized it was only his guards on patrol. He righted himself, casually and nodded down at the men, before turning away from the window all together.  He walked towards his desk, his motion directed even if his mind was wondering.  He could stand being sequestered in his own home.  But what the Don wanted…. He thought, as he heard a knock on the door.  “Come!” he yelled, sitting down behind his desk. 

The older woman moved to open the door and walked in to see Nicholas sitting down at his desk. She lowered her head a bit at the man, out of respect. “Mr. D’onofrio… will you be joining the Mrs. for dinner tonight?” she asked him softly. “We prepared a spinach salad with warm butter dressing, roasted lamb chops, lemon garlic butter roasted potatoes, steamed asparagus, and carrot souffle” she breathed, falling quiet as she waited for his response. 

Even the mere mention of his wife's moniker brought a twist of anger, bitterness, and sadness to Nicholas. The latter he pushed down almost immediately. He formed his mouth to say "no", his  hand  waving the woman dismissively away. However, his mouth water involuntarily at the menu and he modified his original plan. "Second thought… yes, I will. Thank you” he said on his feet once more.  He didn't wait for the escort. And made his way to the dinning room quickly. The winter's chill still lay thick between him and his… wife.  Nevertheless, more up he moved beside her and dropped a kiss on the side of her forehead.  "How is my son doing today?" He asked moving to the other end of the table. 

The woman waited for the man’s response, he dismissed her and it didn’t surprise her at all. However, before she could really depart from him he changed her mind, which in her mind was amazing considering the fact that his wife had been less than pleasant lately. She was sure his stand on their feud would just add more fuel. “Great” she breathed softly to him as she moved to leave the space moving back to her post. Mercedes looked at her plate and her glass as it was placed before her and her glass was filled. As her husband surfaced for dinner to her shock she didn’t meet his gaze she instead picked her fork up and moved to eat her dinner. His kiss burned against her skin, for the fact that she was boiling on the inside since his little comment about Sara whom she to her deepest regret discovered was still very much so alive. Out of him, Al, and Freddie she didn’t know which was going to die first. She licked her lips slowly at his question and placed some food into her mouth. Her eyes flickered up at him as he sat down across the table from her, dark green eyes darkened and she blinked before she looked back down slowly. “Your son…” she repeated to herself uncertainty laced in the comment, an evil chuckle leaving her lips amusing herself with her own pettiness as she continued to eat her food. 

Nicholas watched the deep emerald of her eyes flash with pure danger.  He smirked at Red’s statement, then jabbed his finger at the dishes laid out on the table, to indicate what he wanted to be served. Under Nicholas’ eye the butler quickly moved into action preparing his plate, the mobster watched lamb and potatoes were piled on his plate. He had a need to be more of a carnivore tonight. Once his food was in front of him, he turned his attention back to his wife. “Spirit. I’ve always liked that about you” He said in a mocking tone. 

Picking up her knife, Mercedes cut a piece of lamb off its bone and popped it into her mouth. She rested the fork down against her plate and her fork. Chewing lightly, she looked at her husband only for a moment before she lifted her glass. A chuckle left her “I would’ve sworn the only like you had was for my figure” she said sarcastically. “It’s what Sara and I have in common after all” she said with a bit of a growl she wasn’t expecting to release. She sat the glass back down and tended to her food once more. 

Nicholas shook his head, stabbing a piece of potato with his fork. He waved the spired vegetable with a shrug of his shoulders.  "No, with Sara it’s about the breast. I'm more of an ass man nowadays." He said eating the potato.  He could soothe her but he didn't want to.  "I want to see the recordings."  He said, going back to his plate. 

Mercedes rolled her eyes so hard they hurt when he mentioned which body part he lusted after the most when it came to his ex wife. She forked more food into her mouth, shifting in her seat lightly. At his next statement she chuckled to herself “of course you do” she replied. “Why? Why does it matter?” She asked him. “You aren’t going to honor my wish, it’s in the hands of the man who will. Who might as well be his father considering how much more he tends to him over his… “ she stopped short looking him up and down. She chuckled again lightly to herself as she forked more food into her mouth. 

Nicholas looked up from his plate and stared across the expanse.  "I don't give a fuck about any of that. But thanks for setting up a Godfather for my kid. Considering you've already consigned yourself to death, it's a moot point. You should have spent more time wondering just who was  to play mother to our son. At least that seems to give you some sort of passion." 

Mercedes looked up at the man slowly, her smile falling, no longer seeing the amusement in the tit-for-tat now. Her chest rose and fell a few times before she moved to get up from the chair bitterly. Slamming the chair up against the table rattling the fine china as she moved to walk away fuming from the inside out. She bawled her fist tightly as she walked past Freddie, whom much like her husband she hadn’t spoken to either, moving for their bedroom. 

Nicholas turned his head nostrils flaring as he looked across the table.  Mercedes eye shown with the light of death.  Which amused him. At least they were giving off some kind of fight, this resolute bullshit, turning his stomach.  As she stormed off he stabbed his fork into another piece of meat, chewing it bitterly.  Sucking his teeth he stood, "tell me Freddie is my wife truly afraid.  Or is she seeking some kind of resolution? Cause I'm not actually sure." He said, throwing his napkin down on top of his plate. 

Freddie looked at Nicholas as he threw out an unexpected question at him, he watched the woman of the house depart from them. He knew he needed to follow her, wait and watch at her bedroom door. However he also knew he couldn’t not answer the man’s question considering the state the two were in right now. Not to mention his lovely boss just alluded to them having messed around to her husband. “Yes, she is,” he said seriously. “Afraid is an understatement.” 

Nicholas gazed towards the steps his wife had just ascended. His mind turning over and over the events of the last few days.  Which could he accept from his wife? Love or respect. Was it too much to want both? He heard Freddie through the haze of his own thoughts. "You believe that? Don't you? We will see." Nicholas wiped his mouth with a napkin and through it down on top of the unfinished meal. He left the room long legged strides carrying him quickly upstairs.

Freddie looked at the man as he replied with a very different response than he expected. When the man got up in hot pursuit, he licked his lips with a head shake. These two happened to turn out as two shit shows, which was not what he thought would pan out from the marriage at all. He moved to follow behind slowly. Mercedes moved for the bedroom and slammed the door so hard it echoed throughout the house and she growled angrily again to herself as she plopped down on their massive bed. “You know I really hate your father sometimes” she said speaking to their unborn. 

Nicholas pushed the door to their bedroom open, the hinges cracking light as he did. He snared looking down over Red's form. "Sometimes," He chuckled.  "That is an understatement." He moved deeper into the room and dropped down onto the bed. "I want to see the tapes. Please." He said, looking her directly in the face.  

Mercedes didn’t physically move as her husband joined her in the bedroom, dropping comments of which did not amuse her right now. As he sat down beside her she swallowed hard, shifting over and away from him. She didn’t say anything for a very long time, and then she decided to stand up. Moving for where she had hidden the tapes, which subsequently was closer to him than he thought. Getting onto her hands and knees which was quite the task, she pulled the box from under their bed and opened it. There was a stack of SD cards adorn in the same box all of their positive pregnancy tests lied. She licked her lips and pulled them out, moving to pick her laptop up off of the nightstand and opened it, connected the SD card to the computer before she handed it to him to press play wordlessly. 

Nicholas licked his lips, saying nothing for the long moment Red sat quietly.  The mental distance between so large, the physical distance she invoked didn't even register. He cracked his knuckles looking down at his hand.  Waiting. Finally she rose then turned back presenting him with a laptop. Rolling up right he looked at her face then down at the  camera as the video played. Frame after frame he watched her stammer through explaining then starting again. He didn't want to process the emotion but it was too visceral to overlook.  He paused the video and rose to his feet going to stand in front of the window. Guilt and pain tearing at him physically.   He sighed and watched nothing for nothing for too long a time. “I love my kid.” He said breaking the hard silence. “I’m selfish and I guess cruel. You love that child more than anything.  Understandable. But I love you that way. By not telling me any of this you’ve left yourself open to be taken away from me.” He said, dropping his head.  “I…” He uttered, lost for words. “I don’t know what I’m doing or how this feels.  My job is to protect you. I understand the need for these I suppose. But for the love of me why don’t you just tell me what I need to know?” 

Mercedes sat back down silently as Nicholas took the opportunity to listen to the records and watch them. When he paused the video and rose walking across the room she swiped a few tears away from her eyes, swallowing down her sadness. She made the videos, yes. But listening to them was still hard. As he spoke of their child and her current problem, she sighed softly to herself and turned her face away from him, swiping another tear from her eye. At his question she didn’t say anything in response to that. She was so upset and so angry, if only people around her thought about how she felt about all of this and how it made her feel. This wasn’t what she expected out of any of this, and she didn’t know how to fix it, not alone. Not without incorporating everyone and potentially causing them harm. She sniffled “I don’t know what you mean…” she said in a somber tone. “You’ve been so detached my entire pregnancy I just don’t think you get it” she said with a shrug. “And now it doesn’t matter…” 

“How?” Nicholas looked up at her.  “What was I supposed to do Mercedes? I don’t know and what I get from you is hotter than fire then colder than ice.” He said, taking care to ensure his voice was calm and patient. “We are all we have… Isn’t that what we promised. Then you don’t come to me.  You love me but you must not believe I love you the same way.” 

Mercedes looked at Nicholas as he continued to explain his feelings. “Honor my wishes for a change. Listen to me and grasp what I am telling you” she breathed simply. It was simplicit even if what she was asking him to grasp was extremely hard. “You promised me a lot of things,” she said with a slight chuckle. “I can’t fire off what you’ve kept outside of the marriage. I promised you love until death do us part. I never promised you that was 20 years from now or 60 years or even 2 days” she sighed. She shifted on the bed “the life you want to continue to partake in doesn't give us the freedom to be immortal. There is danger all around us” she breathed. “You don’t respect my wishes when I am a lion, or a sheep” she growled. “Weak or strong, you live to misunderstand every damn thing I tell you” she said as she blinked heavy tears out of her eyes. “I even now, insistently put you first. I don’t want you or Al, or Rebecca… anyone harmed. You didn’t create this problem I did. Al always told me my irrational need to kill everything that moves will eventually bite me in the ass” she said sniffled. “I’ve accepted that…” 

 “So” Nicholas retorted to every phase she uttered. Stepping closer to where she sat on the bed. He could not get a word in and could not rally against the fiercest on slot of truth. As she spoke the fear and pain in her face mixed with the undeniable love he knew she had for him and only. He gave way. "Okay!" He yelled.  "Okay." He said again, calming himself. "We'll leave." He said voice just above a whisper.

Mercedes looked at Nicholas as he moved closer to her on the bed. She licked her lips and looked up at his face moving to press her hands on either side of herself, shifting on the bed. She didn’t believe him, that was too easy. “You’d only renege later” she breathed just as rapid fire sounded off around the home, bullets hurling into the structure. 

Freddie who stood guard by the bedroom heard the loud yelling and screaming coming from downstairs. Instantly the house was laced with rapid bullets and he took off down the hall, grabbing an AK-47 he ran back in the opposite direction. He rushed down to the end of the steps before he ran back up them, on guard at the top of the steps as his heart pounded rapidly against his chest. “Fuck” he breathed. He stepped back slowly two steps as he stood waiting, hearing the near invasion of them home feet away. 

Nicholas' head was already shaking, plan as he may there were somethings that were trump moves.  This whole situation qualified.  He was about to say just that when a familiar sound of death split the air. He grabbed, pulling to her feet. He placed his body between her and the door. Drawing his side arm all in one motion.  Mouth hard as bullets rained in the distance.  "We gotta move." He said, pulling Mercedes behind. 

Mercedes' eyes grew wide as Nicholas tugged her to her feet, her fear drowned by the sounds of screaming and total chaos. Instantly her eyes were wet from tears she’d been right they were going to get her one way or the other. “Nicky” she squealed utterly petrified in the moment. As he said they needed to move she tried to follow behind him as quickly as her short legs and rounded belly would allow her. 

Nicholas was focused on one thing. Getting to his  closet. The custom build mirrored the opulence of his wife’s walk in. Cedar lined walls, shelves and drawers. Perfect. Everything from Hugo Boss to Scabal.  And the centerpiece was an accessory island that housed luxurie ties, watches, wallet, guns of course and sun glass. Currently that was the only place he wanted to get to.  The thought of calling for Freddie entered the fringes of his mind.  But no, right now the only thing they had working in their favor was misdirection.  At the door of the closet, he pushed Mercedes in before him, hands steadying her waist as he moved in the relative darkest with precision. Re holstering his gun, his finger reached out for the accessory island. He ran his hand down the side then  pulled the shades drawer open, fingers knowingly pressed down on the hidden button underneath the rim. Without a sound a suit lined wall began to slide open a streak of line spreading across the closet floor.   "Get inside!" He urged in a rough insistent whisper. 

 Mercedes moved with Nicholas to his closet, body hurling inside as he pushed her. She stood with him looking back behind them nervously, where was Freddie? What if everyone outside of them were dead? What were they going to do? As she looked back at her husband she called his name again “Nicky?” She said with a trembling lip. As he pushed her into the hidden panic room she looked at him with terror in her eyes, tears still falling. 

Nicholas could see his wife better now. Newer.  Most likely the best view he’d had of her since she became pregnant. Her ideal became crystal clear.  As if he should have gotten them this whole time.  He backed her into space. “You and our son will be fine.” He said eyes burning bright green fires. He touched her face, lightly, brushing away tears.  That only pissed him off more. He was tired of people fucking with his wife.   The room was stocked with food, water, and a back wall of guns and ammo that boarded on the obsessive.  He moved away from Mercedes with purpose drive steps. At the back wall, he grabbed the AK placing it around his neck and then pulled two Glock 17s with extra long magzines down. 

“Don’t leave me in here alone” she cried, she reached for him as he moved to grab weaponry. “Please,” she begged him not wanting to go and get himself killed in the midst. Her hand instinctively moved to her large stomach and she leaned against the wall feeling so helpless and scared. 

Freddie heard the sounds of heavy feet and he raised his gun higher aiming for the individual. He watched as David came running up the steps falling back against the wall near him. “It’s a bloodbath down there,” he said to Freddie. “I could only get a few staff to safety” he said out of breath. “But Freddie I can’t, I can’t do this-“ he stammered. “I can’t die like this, for what?” He said to him. Freddie continued to stand there on the edge of the steps waiting for anyone and everyone. “You took this job and vowed to do whatever it took to ensure their safety. And you will do just that. Until your dying breath” he said never looking at the man. “Get on guard” he commanded.

Nicholas turned, placing his forehead on Mercedes, “I’m coming back. You hear me? I’m coming back.”  With that he ran from the room. He took care to hit the button and replaced the trap door closing the draw.  The sound of bullets rang out louder now.  They were closer.He thought at the door to their bedroom. Nicholas readied the glock 17, and pulled the door open, stepping out into the darkened house, the glocks leading the way into the hall. He could see Freddie and another man… David, he thought. He was on them in a second, “how many? He asked, cooly not bothering to lower his weapons. 

Mercedes looked at Nicholas and swallowed hard at his words nodding her head and wiping her tears. “Okay” she said softly as the man ran off leaving her alone in the room. She didn’t even know this happened to be in the house, she tried to calm down as much as she could. Considering there was a mini war going on in her house she didn’t know how plausible that was. 

Freddie heard shuffling behind him and he looked back for a moment before he turned his eyes back to the stairs. With the command of an estimated count leaving Nicholas' lips he wondered where Mercedes was. “Forty of more” he breathed out in a calm voice to Nicholas. “Is she okay?” he asked him curiously. “We need to get her out of here” he said as he looked to David for a moment. 

“40 or more.” Nicholas nodded his head, not even registering the rest of Freddies questions. “Let move.  I’ll take the left, you two the right.” He looked down at the men now,  “Not a one of these mother fuckers are leaving here alive.  If one does...  Both of you better already be dead.”  Without another backwards glance. His eyes, already adjusted to the darkness, caught the slight movement of  bodies.  The flash of the glock lit up the hall like fireflies on a moonless night. If there were screams Nicholas didn’t hear them, he did register, great thuddes as bodies hit the floor. 

David looked at Freddie and then to Nicholas at his command “h-huh” he breathed softly. “We should call Al and get more soldiers over here” he breathed to them. 

Freddie looked at Nicholas and nodded his head moving as the man commanded him to. At David’s words Freddie looked at him and then to Nicholas, “you heard him,” he said knowingly. His eyes snapped back to the direction that Nicholas was firing at and he began to release rounds, moving down the steps one step at a time as he prepared to hit the bottom step where he knew there were far more bodies to rid them of.

Nicholas stepped over the three bodies that lay in his way now.  Issuing a bullet to the head of each he went.  Flash to the right, he began his descent.  Mixing the automatic firing of the Glock precision. He aimed for heads with each round..  “You come in to my house with this mother fucking bullshit! Come on!” he yelled with each round.  There was great advantage to having the high group and currently he and Freddie were using it to their advantage taking down men with ease. 

David looked at Freddie and Nicholas moving behind the men as they fired round after round, dropping bodies in their wake. David reached the landing with Freddie and he took off trying to find the nearest exit by them. 

Freddie reached the landing to see a wounded Pierce trying to hold his own weight. There were literally 4 men outside of David’s scary ass that was down stairs dying for Mercedes’ sake. Freddie watched David as he darted for an exit and he shook his head at the man. Wordlessly, he moved swiftly shooting at every moving thing he didn’t recognize, the poor staff members. Innocent people in all of this, whose lives were taken, that infuriated Freddie.   

Like fish in a barrel Nicholas shot man after man.  He caught one in the side of his head,  spattering, brain over the face of another. He only had time to touch the gore before he too was shot through the eye. Both landing on who looked to be the downstairs maid. Which only added to the fire raging him.  HIs people were dying.  In the midst of the commotion, David flashed into view, running.  It was the wrong time, and Nicholas was the wrong man. But he’d made the man a promise. He took the man in the back legs.  Fitting for such a coward.  Steel brushed across Nicholas’ cheek as he barely sidestepped the knife aiming at his throat.  He used the momentum to fall back hitting the wall hard, he raised the AK up from his chest pulling the trigger. Serval holes punched holes punctured the man's midsection.  Getting to his feet, Nicholas finished him with single shots to the face at point blank range.  As the room fell silent. 

Freddie took man for a man who was moments away from shooting Pierce in the head and he whipped around hearing David’s loud yell. He ignored him for now, knowing he all but deserved that from Nicholas. He fired off another rapid succession of bullets before he lowered the gun slightly. He still moved around the floor, checking around every corner slowly but swiftly. He wanted to make sure the bottom half was clear of all current enemies. He licked his lips slowly turning back around and despite his first attempt Pierce missed when trying to shoot whom they thought was the last intruder, causing Freddie to eat the bullet that was now lodged in his side. However Pierce didn’t miss the second time he shot and killed the man behind Freddie. 

David moved past flying bullets and falling bodies only to end up wounded anyhow. He fell against the floor yell out as he did, he shifted rolling on his side as he tried to figure out just where he’d been hit. 

Nicholas looked up to see the ragged assemblage of what was left of the household guard.  “This can’t be all of them.” He said, counting the bodies laid out. “We need to clear the rest of the house.” Nicholas picked his way through the bodies,  gun still at the ready moving towards the men, he stopped at David where he lay holding his leg. Nicholas spit directly in the man’s face. Death just might be too good for you.” He said flatly, sucking his teeth, “let me know when you find out.” With that he stood and pulled the trigger. “Anyone still able to move let check the grounds and the backstairs”.

Freddie tried not to groan out from the bullet wound he was sporting right now, when Nicholas commanded they moved he watched as Pierce slid to the ground. “Hang tight” he said to him seriously as he moved to walk outside checking the grounds of the home. Pushing through the discomfort and pain he was feeling as he bleed out. 

Dragging the older woman by her head of hair down the hallway, Viktor was on the hunt for Mercedes. He had a job to do and that was kill her by no circumstance could she live. “Where?” he barked at the older woman, who pointed at the double doors down the hall and he continued to pull her along. He held her up against the wall and he opened the door pushing it open. Seeing no one inside he shoved the woman into the room and after he did so he wrapped his arms around her head and neck snapping it before he let her body rest against the floor gently. When he was done with that he moved to the large closet and maneuvered his way to the little hidden room he knew she was in. Once the doors opened he looked inside to see her, heavily pregnant and he furrowed his brows. 

Mercedes waited impatiently for Nicholas to return, she was counting every second and minute he was away. What was happening down there? Was he still alive? How could she get out of the room? When the doors rolled open she looked “Nicky” she breathed softly only to see a taller man she'd never seen before. He had a machine gun and she froze, gazing at him like a deer in headlights before she looked down seeing the pool of bodily fluid covering the floor and her bare feet. 

Nicholas moved off alone. By choice.  His office held two bodies, both staff. It was almost funny to see the picture windows shattered.  At least this time it was his fault.  In the kitchen he found the cook who must have been surprised.  The was face down over the stove fitting.  In total that had to be five of the in house staff members.  The back door swung open, and Nicholas duck down behind the island looking at the newcomer through the legs of the cook. 3 pairs of men enter, cautious at first then bolder after discovering what they thought was empty space.  Nicholas gave himself to the count of 10 then sprayed, bullets tear way cloth and flesh all at once. He missed one. “Shit.” He barked and returned fire, filling the island with holes. “You want to tell me why you’re here?'' he asked, once the bullet stopped.  “Come on.. Pretty baby talk to me.  If you do, maybe i’ll let you live.” 

Viktor watched the woman’s water break in front of him and he moved quickly on his feet. “Abort mission” he breathed lifting his wrist “get out of here” he commanded anyone who was left. He went rushing bank into the direction he came in and exited the home. Going out back he jumped on his motorcycle, never mind the helmet as he zoomed around the large estate and down the road. He looked back to see one man in pursuit of him who easily gave up. 

Watching the two men before him drop like flies, ducking was his only choice at this point. He heard his voice but didn’t quite have time. They were told to abort and that’s exactly what he needed to do. He fired off a few more bullets towards the voice before he tried to dart through the house further only to be seen by another heavily armed man. “Look, the deed is done,” he said raising his hand defensively. He knew this guy, it was Red’s right hand. 

Mercedes looked back up at the man expecting him to do his job however he left. Left her with the door wide open and exposed, never mind the very serious issue that was still trickling down her thighs. When he was no longer in view she took a step back, too scared for so many reasons now that she had begun to cry again. 

Freddie walked around outside slowly, making sure he was watching his own back, sides, and front. He saw the Hummer’s there were 8 out front. Stepping over a body he moved for the backyard slowly, where he stumbled upon a man speeding off on a motorcycle. He turned around and tried to dart towards the front of the house however the man got away. “Shit” he said as he moved back into the house, quietly hearing bullets rang out. Moving slowly downstairs his heart pounded rapidly as he tried to decide within himself which was more important. Finding Mercedes or where the chaos was coming from. 

"We didn't come for you?" Said a deep voice with a heavily Russian. "We come to kill the black woman. Don't worry we'll be gentle when we find her.  Give her up and I'll let YOU live." Something burned on his body, but Nicholas shoved that thought to the back of his mind. "Nah," he said, tracking the man's movements by his voice. "You are in the wrong house." Wrong house!" [Abort mission] the radio cracked and the sudden invasion of unintended noise drew the gunmen attention. Opening.   Nicholas slid out from behind the cabinet and fired. Hot shells fountained from the gun cascading to the floor. There was no beauty or precision in the onslaught. Only death. 

Freddie eyed the man hearing his words and he fired multiple rounds into him. No more ammunition to use. He dropped the AK and picked up something nearby swiftly hearing shots fired once more. He moved in that direction, hun raised and cocked. “If there is anyone else in here” he breathed “I am going to kill you” he said as he moved for the kitchen. 

The rain of bullet casing ended with no more movement in the kitchen. Nicholas moved to stand and hissed. Something had grazed the meat of his thigh.  He did bother to even look at it as he moved to inspect the body's of the men. He reached down with no regard for the gore to pull the out the man's radio "Shit…" he said as the radio broke into pieces in his hand. 

Freddie entered the kitchen to see Nicholas and said “they said the deed is done, where is she?” All seriousness in his voice. He just knew she was dead, done for, he’s failed at his only life’s mission. He couldn’t believe it. “Someone got away on a bike…” he breathed. Lowering his gun finally at his side, he used his free hand to grip it. “He might have gotten to her… I don’t know…” 

Nicholas dropped low reaching for the gun on his side. Pointing the gun at the man's midsection. He exhaled with relief. "Freddie!" He rose to his feet, "that's impossible." He railed, yet already moving towards the stairs. There's no way.” 

As he commented that there was no way he sighed softly “I don’t know” Freddie told him rushing behind him as he moved for the stairs. “I tried to chase him down I swear”. 

Nicholas slipped his injured leg going out from under him as he vaulted the bodies on the land to the upstairs.  He caught himself on the banister stumbling to remain on his feet. Back on his feet he was in their bedroom sliding to halt in the doorway… the closet door was open. Not only that he light spilling out over the suits meant so was the safe room. He never even slowed, his small frame bolting through the safe room doors.  The look down finding Merecedes huddled on the floor crying he wrapped around her, hand tangled in her hair… too stunned to speak. 

Freddie moved behind Nicholas keeping up with his pace. Rushing towards the bedroom with the man and he gripped his gun tightly just in case it was an ambush. When they made it there he moved inside unknowing where the man was gone. When they moved in the closet he looked around the space and looked for some sight of blood. But he didn’t see anything out of the norm, until he looked at the floor. He gripped his side again “we have to get her to a hospital” he breathed to the man. 

Mercedes heard a nose and she lowered herself to the ground defensively, maybe the man changed his mind and came to kill her. As Nicholas came into the space and she cried a little harder, he hadn’t been killed thank God. He wrapped her up and she hugged him tightly, clinging on to him. Groaning softly, she gripped into his despite the comfort she was starting to feel sniffling hard. 

Nicholas held Mercedes hats against his chest.  Eyeing the ground where Freddie indicated. Squinting… understanding was slow to come but then came like a flash.  "The baby. Shit.  Baby" he said softly “can you walk?" 

Mercedes nodded her head at him “y-yes” she told her softly. “I thought he was going to kill me, and my water just broke, I didn’t know if anyone else was still alive...” she explained to the both of them. Her hand moved her rounded stomach. 

Freddie looked at Mercedes and Nicholas, after her explanation he nodded his head. “We can go through the garage, just in case” he said. “Come on,” he said, offering Mercedes his hand. “Let’s go, I’ll drive”. 

Nicholas rose steadying his wife as he did.  "How did they know where I hid you? ..." He whispered to himself. In disbelief. "What made them stop." He mused, holding his side as Freddie led the way. 

Mercedes grabbed Freddie’s hand and Nicholas' hand, holding them tightly as she moved to get up off the floor with their help. Once on her feet she walked alongside Nicholas holding onto him as they lived through the house. Her hand moved below her round belly, biting down on her lip. She released only to see the two of them bleeding. “Are you guys okay?” She asked them curiously. 

Freddie looked at Mercedes once she was on her feet, still looking her over gently. After he’d done so he loved forward maneuvering through the house with his gun raised and cocked to shoot if need be. “Don’t mind me” he said to her as they moved to where a car could be. 

Nicholas looked down at his leg, blood only trickled from it a little as they moved. “It’s nothing, a scratch.” He said, moving along with the group head on a permanent swivel.  “We get you to the hospital then everything will be right as rain.”  It wouldn’t be. Most of the house guards were dead or wounded.  He needed to speak to Al and quickly.

[dyde21]

Why not have both of them as baristas working at rivaling coffee bars? Like a Pyramus and Thisbe (or Romeo and Juliet, if you prefer that) kind of scenario.

Thank you for this idea! Thank you for enganging with my ramblings about my children! It helped me actually get the story done! :D

XxXxXxXxX

Walking into the shop, Tyler honestly felt a little guilty. He knew it was silly, since he was just an entry level barista at his own cafe, but this place was technically their rival. Most locals preferred one or the other because they approached their coffee differently. But he was practically falling asleep, he had three chapters to get through, and was across town from his place. Plus it was raining heavily, and he just wasn’t in the mood. 

He moved to the back of the small line, looking up at the hand written board. For as much as the locals like to bicker about which shop was better, they really were pretty similar. A familiar smell of coffee beans permeated the air as he hummed to himself, the christmas carols echoing in the shop reminding him of work. Most of what they played was the modern covers of songs, while his shop had more traditional version.

Hoisting up his bag a little higher on his back, he really hoped no one would recognize him. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t get in trouble, but his manager really did take the rivalry pretty seriously. Eventually it was his turn and he was still staring up at the menu. “Can I get a… hot…”

His eyes wandered down to the barista. A girl was staring back at him with a bright smile. She seemed his age, a little shorter than him with a black undercut and deep blue eyes. “Hot…” He paused for a moment as he tried to remember why he was here. “Hot chocolate!” He finally finished.

She raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips as if she was trying to hold back a laugh, which he appreciated, and nodded. She grabbed a cup as she started to write on it. “Name?”

“Ty- Tyler.” He said after a moment, wondering if he should have used an alias. Surely he was just being ridiculous at this point. He wasn’t some spy. 

The girl nodded. “Whipped Cream? Cinnamon?” 

“Yes to both. Please.” 

“Chocolate?”

Tyler stared at her blankly. “Uh… yes?”

She rolled her eyes, biting back another smile. “I mean a chocolate drizzle on top.”

Tyler’s ears burned pink as she explained herself. “Oh! Uh yeah… sorry.”

He glanced away, wincing. Did he really have to sound like an idiot in front of a cute girl every time?

The girl let out a laugh that drew his eyes back to her. It was a very pretty sound.

“Sorry for all the questions. Customers can just be a little… picky.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m also a barista. I know exactly what you mean.”

“Oh?” She asked, tilting her head, before ringing up the order.

“Yeah.” He said, smiling at her for a moment, before realizing she was waiting to be paid. 

“Right!” He muttered, pulling out his wallet and trying to keep his verbal nonverbal. “We usually pay don’t we.”

This earned another laugh from the girl, and Tyler had to smile despite himself. That sound brought him way more cheer than any christmas carol could.

“Yeah, we’re kind of sticklers about that.”

Tyler handed over a ten, and she quickly gave him back his change. He put all of the change into the tip jar.

“Thank you!” She said cheerfully and he just smiled and waved as he went to take a seat in the corner. He pulled out his textbook, flipping to the chapter he needed to read. He tried to keep an ear open for his name being called.

A few minutes later though, he was surprised that his name hadn’t been called yet. It hadn’t been that busy. He was about to get up to look to see if he had missed it when a cup was suddenly handed to him.

He took it, with wide eyes as he looked up to see the girl from before. “Thanks… uh…” His eyes flickered over to her nametag, except it was missing. 

“Ashe.” She answered, as if reading his mind. She tucked some of her bangs back as she smiled a bit nervously. “I uh… lost my name tag. Again. I’m waiting on a new one.” She answered a question he hadn’t asked, but her explanation was oddly endearing.

“Did I miss my name?” He asked after taking a sip and humming in approval. 

Ashe shook her head, reaching across herself to grab her wrist with her other hand. “No! Uh… I appreciated the tip, and you looked busy so I didn’t want you to have to get up.” She explained, her eyes meeting his for the briefest moment before she looked away. Tyler couldn’t quite tell under the warm lights, but he thought he saw a blush on her cheeks. Then again, he was probably misjudging things like usual.

“You’re really kind, thank you. I know how important tips can be so I don’t mind helping out. Christmas cheer and all that.”

Ashe nodded. “‘Tis the season and all that.”

Smiling up at her, Tyler could talk to her for ages he was pretty sure. Her eyes flickered back over to the counter where people were lining up, and a frown crept on her face.

He took another sip. “Don’t let me keep you. Thank you though, you made getting through these chapters a little easier.” 

She flashed him a smile of thanks, giving him a slight wave before she hurried back to the counter, cheerfully greeting the person and thanking them for waiting.

Tyler finished the rest of the reading with a smile on his face. This place really was welcoming. He was starting to know why this place was so popular. Glancing down at his cup, he saw the name written on the said.

“Ty-Tyler”

He let out a short laugh, grinning stupidly at the name. He glanced back over at the barista, and saw she was giving him a smug look at his laugh, apparently having been waiting for him to notice it. 

Eventually though it was starting to get late and he figured she should head home. Packing up his stuff, he finished his drink as he started to make his way out. On his way, he caught the eye of Ashe again and smile. He offered her a smile and mouthed thanks, as she gave him a small wave. For a moment, he felt a little sad. He wasn’t sure when the next time he would end up in this shop would be, and Ashe definitely seemed like someone cool. WIth a sigh, he walked out the door and continued on his way, hoping their paths would cross again at some point.

XxXxXxXxX

Humming to herself, Ashe bopped her head as she walked down the street. She had about an hour to kill until she was meeting up with her sisters so she figured she should find somewhere to chill. She had the day off, but she had woken up too early like usual so now she was just out and about, roaming the city. 

As she walked, she noticed the small sign for the cafe that she had never been in before. Her manager had warned her that they took their rivalry very seriously and that there was no reason to go to that shop. 

Rolling her eyes, Ashe was going to keep walking past and do her best to ignore the pleasing smell of coffee. She really didn’t need more caffeine considering how much she drank of it at her job. 

As she was passing through, a nagging thought crept in her mind. Tyler had said he was a barista too, hadn’t he? That boy had been popping through her head the past week. His smile was stuck in her head still. He had been shy, but had left a large tip without ceremony. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she didn’t need to get distracted by every cute patron that came through her cafe. Still… he mentioned being a barista and she hadn’t seen him at any of the coffee shops she visited.

Taking a few steps past the store, she paused running a hand through her hair. It was just curiosity, there was no harm in checking right? Turning around she walked back into the cafe she passed. 

Immediately a familiar aroma of coffee beans assaulted her senses as she walked in. The shop was pretty busy, a small line waiting as the sound of a chorus of voices rang out at people chatting with each other.

Glancing around the shop, she smiled at holly hung around the shop, traditional christmas songs playing through the air. Her eyes flicked across the staff. She froze in place as she saw the guy from before, Tyler, at the counter. He was ringing up a customer and hadn’t noticed her. Before she could decide to stay or leave, another customer had entered and she instinctively moved into line to stop blocking the door. Guess that settled that. She pulled out her earbuds as she tried to stay calm.

Her eyes flicked over the sign as she hummed to herself, wondering what to get. The guy must have worked quickly because soon it was her turn. She stepped up to the counter, ignoring how fast her heart was beating. She normally didn’t get too nervous in situations like this, but the shocked look in his eyes before the massive smile crossed his face had thrown her off balance. Was he trying to be cute,or did it just come natural to him. 

“Welcome, how can I help you?” He asked, almost as if he wasn’t sure she recognized him. 

“Caramel Frappuccino please. Grande.” She said as she saw him start to hit buttons on the register. 

“I figured if you were spying on us, I should do the same.” She said with a teasing voice, hoping her read of the situation was right.

His eyes widened before a sly smirk crossed his face. “Shh… Don’t get me in trouble.” He warned.

Ashe laughed but nodded. “Trust me, I understand.”

She paid, before checking her wallet. When he gave her back her card, she put a few dollars into the tip jar as well with a wink. 

“Thank you!” He called out as she grinned at him. Nothing wrong with paying it forward. 

She really wanted to stay and flirt… talk with him more but there was a small line forming behind her so she reluctantly moved off to the side to sit at a table near the window. She put her headphones back in and gazed out the window, painfully aware of the smile that was still on her face. What were the odds that he worked at the rival coffee shop? 

She paused for a moment, realizing he had never asked for her name. Did he remember it? Or did he just forget to ask. She glanced back over her shoulder, but he was working on the drink while someone else had stepped up to work the register. 

She turned back around, hoping things would work out. A moment later a cup was slid onto her table. “For you, ma’am.” He said with a nervous grin.

She pulled out her earbuds immediately, flashing him a grateful smile. “What customer service.” She teased.

He smiled at her, before shifting nervously.

She raised an eyebrow curiously.

“It’s uh… my break time. He said, holding up a cup of his own. The shop is pretty busy… would you mind if I sit with you?”

Ashe’s eyes trailed over his form for a moment. Over some old jeans he wore an apron stained with bits of coffee. Beneath it he had a long sleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She saw bits of coffee beans clinging to his arms as he ran a hand through his hair nervously. 

She noticed an empty table across the cafe but chose not to mention it. “Yeah, that’d be cool.” She said, gesturing to the seat across the small table. 

The relief that seemed to wash over him was practically visible as he relaxed, clearly relieved. It clearly had taken him a lot of courage to ask her, it must have been something he didn’t do often, which only made her a little more flustered. 

“This place is doing well.” She idly remarked, wincing slightly at how lame of a subject she chose to talk about. 

He shrugged. “It does get kind of busy, but judging from last week you guys aren’t exactly struggling either.”

She nodded, turning the cup around in her hands. “People flock in when it’s cold.” Her eyes trailed over the signs again, noticing the last panel was a chalkboard with a hand drawn penguin with a cup of coffee on it.

“Okay, that’s cute.” She remarked. 

Tyler apparently followed her gaze because he seemed to understand. “Ah. Thanks. That one took awhile for me to get right.”

Her head snapped back to look at him. “You drew that?”

Sheepishly he took a sip of his drink, the whipped cream leaving a dollop on his nose before he seemed to realize and wiped it off quickly. 

“Uh… yeah. My boss found out I draw and had the idea. He doesn’t really take no for an answer so I had to learn. It’s gotten better the more I do it at least.”

Ashe  was still all smiles. “Well it’s adorable. You did a great job!” She said, leaning forward to rest her chin on her palm and smile at him. Everything about him was entertaining to her.

“Thanks.” He repeated, glancing away before looking back at her with a small smile. 

“I wanna see your art sometime. If you’re up for it of course. If you made that penguin, I’m sure the rest is great.”

He nodded. “Sure, that wouldn’t be a problem.” He said. “Don’t have too high hopes though.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you’re selling yourself short.”

Glancing down at her phone, she sighed. “My shift is starting soon, I should get going.”

He nodded. “It was uh… cool seeing you again.”

She nodded eagerly. “I agree. We’ll see each other again, you still need to show you me your art.” She said with a wink, hoping to God she was half as smooth as she was trying to be.

He seemed to understand thankfully and grinned at her. “Yeah… yeah. That’d be cool.”

She stood up to leave as he waved at her as she left. As she was about to throw away her cup, she noticed the sharpie marker on the side. Had he remembered her name?

Turning it slightly, she couldn’t help but laugh out loud and glance back at him who was grinning smugly.

“As-Ashe.” Was on the side.

Unable to toss the cup, she held onto it. She just gave him a small wave and left, her cheeks starting to feel a little sore from smiling so much. 

When Tyler came into her cafe next week with his sketchbook, he kept good on his promise. She had been right, his drawings had been as good as she suspected. In return, she made sure to show him her phone number in return for a chance to meet up somewhere with less coffee beans. When she finally made it home that night, she dropped her spare change into the cup marked “As-Ashe” as she flopped down on her couch happily, calling up her friend, knowing she needed advice on what to wear for her first date.

[winterromanov]

keeping all the promises (we made years ago) - a romanogers fic

Peter’s mixing a bad gin and tonic when Natasha and Steve finally come into the back. Her tiny frame guides him through the throngs of people as a The 1975 song plays in the background, crooning about skinny jeans and spare time and she’s got a boyfriend anyway. They disappear down the basement steps and Natasha must be a little drunk, he reckons, because the door is barely shut when they start kissing. And this—this, he realises, is the only narrative of the two of them that matters. (rock band au. chaos, man.)

/one

It’s Uncle Tony that gets him the job. Well—perhaps gets isn’t quite the right word, because get implies a bit of shuffling behind the scenes and handshakes when in reality Uncle Tony can get whatever he wants whenever he wants. He’s not even his biological uncle. Sometimes, Peter wonders if Uncle Tony just fancied having a nephew and saw him in kindergarten and thought, hey, he’s the one. May’s never told him how Tony ended up being his sort-of guardian, usually financially but sometimes otherwise. He’s just…always been there.

The always been there feels a little more literal now, ever since Peter mentioned that he might not want to go to college after all. Yeah, sure, the Princeton physical sciences program is like, the best in the country, but is that really all there is? He likes music and evening walks and the shitty little apartment he shares with May in the city. He likes the familiarity and the way it covers him like a safety blanket.

It wouldn’t be an understatement to say that Uncle Tony was pretty fucking pissed at the idea. Of, you know, not making the most of the thousands of dollars he’s invested in Peter’s education and not going to an Ivy. Nevertheless, there’s not much he can do about it. Even Tony Stark can’t force him to go to college, even if he looks at him with that disapproving glare every single goddamn day for the rest of his life.

(Uncle Tony’s disapproving glare is one of the scariest things Peter has ever seen, period. And Ned once made him watch all The Exorcist films in one sitting back in freshman year. Took him a good few weeks (months) to shake the paranoia and realise that, realistically, he probably wasn’t going to get possessed by some angry old spirit anytime soon.)

But Uncle Tony can ask him what he’s doing instead of going to college, and Peter quickly discovers that a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders is not an adequate response. He thought that maybe Tony would get him some sort of starter position in his company, but Tony isn’t the kind of guy who gives out jobs to anyone (even if they’re his sort-of nephew). No, if Peter ever wants a job at Stark Industries he needs a college degree first, and a good one at that.

“You need a taste of the real world, kid,” Tony had said, Peter idly spinning on the office chair in front of his desk. “And then you might think twice about giving Princeton the boot.”

And that’s how he ends up in front of Endgame.

-

Peter knows a hell of a lot about Uncle Tony, but also absolutely nothing at all. There are things he deliberately keeps hidden and Peter knows better than to ask about but he’s also ridiculously open, especially about how fucking rich and clever and sexy he is. May says it’s a confidence thing—that he must be hollow under all that blithe arrogance, but Peter has never met anyone more solid. He thinks. Tony cannot be anything other than whole, because he’s sure helped keep Peter’s foundations stable all these years.

He knows that Tony’s business is his life. That he’s a bit more…forward, with women than he should be, but it’s all talk because Pepper wouldn’t stick around if it wasn’t. He knows he prefers Turkish food over everything else and that he cares more than he lets on, always.

But he absolutely didn’t know that Uncle Tony kind-of owns a nightclub in the city; the super cool kind that has live bands and plays British indie rock and a menu with over fifty different kinds of cocktail on it. It makes so much sense, when he thinks about it. It’s exactly the kind of place he imagines Tony heading to after a day working non-stop at the tower.

It’s only three in the afternoon but the place is unlocked, Tony pushing open the double doors at the front with his shoulder. Inside, there’s a jarringly bright room with a bar and a stage that feels wrong not swathed in darkness or the muted glow from overhead lighting. A woman with long, brunette hair that falls down her back is mopping the floor off to the side. She looks up when she sees them enter.

“Wanda,” Tony greets, pushing Peter forward. The girl smiles bemusedly, shoving the mop back in a red plastic bucket. “Working hard?”

“As always, Mr Stark.” Her accent is soft, European. Peter likes the twinkle in her eyes. “You’ve just missed Nat, but Clint is still in the basement, if you’re looking for them.”

“Barton. Perfect.” He tugs on Peter’s arm, and Peter vaguely feels like some naughty kid being dragged around by their dad. This must be what that feels like, he muses, not that he knows much about the whole parent thing. “Come on, Peter.”

Peter rolls his eyes. Wanda catches him, and she laughs a little, returning back to the mop.

Tony drags him through a hallway lined with black-and-white checked squares and down a set of stairs labelled staff only, the walls covered in aggressive-looking graffiti which he assumes are song lyrics he’s never heard of. He likes music, but he’s the soft-spoken acoustic type. Not the mosh-pit type.

(Alongside Tony Stark’s disapproving glare and horror movies, he’s also kind of terrified of being swallowed by crowds. He doesn’t like the feeling of being lost or untethered. He likes being anchored to something. Someone. It’s kind of ironic, really, considering.)

Tony opens a door at the bottom of the stairs that leads onto what he assumes is some sort of staff common room, the walls all exposed brick and lined with tattered leather sofas probably pulled from a garage sale. Band posters either hang loosely with blue thumb tacks or, in some cases, in black frames—some scribbled with messy signatures. A makeshift bar stands in front of a small kitchen, lined with more liquor bottles than he cares to count. A coffee table is littered with vinyl cases and sloppily written notes, a wire charging an iPhone trailing all the way from the door. A man with brown hair and a strong jawline sits on the sofa nearest the back wall, Doc Martens kicked up on the table, scrolling through his phone. His eyes barely flicker when they enter the room, like he’s waiting for Tony to talk first.

“Welcoming as always,” Tony remarks, urging Peter to walk further into the room. The other man snorts.

“If you want a fucking parade every time you enter a room, Stark, you should stick to those dumb expo things you still insist on doing.” He’s still scrolling through his phone. “Who’s the kid?”

“I’m not a kid,” Peter can’t help but say, because he’s eighteen and a high school graduate, for God’s sake. Both Tony and the man raise an eyebrow, in that patronising way Peter is all too used to. Like, you’re basically just fresh out the womb, boy.

“You’re a kid until you stop thinking like one,” Tony says, and it looks like Peter is still going to be getting a lot of that. He gestures towards the man and back again. “Clint Barton, Peter Parker. Peter, Barton. He’s your new boss.”

“Half-boss,” Clint quickly corrects, “Nat would probably slit your throat if she heard you say that. Also…” Clint pauses, finally putting his phone down. He seems to examine Peter carefully, eyes flicking up and down. He feels oddly exposed. “Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, be doing AP Literature homework or something?”

Peter sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I’m not in high school. I graduated high school.”

“I refuse to believe that. How old are you? Fourteen?”

“I’m eighteen!”

Clint narrows his eyes. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I know my own age.”

Clint hums. He shifts his feet from the coffee table and to the floor, leaning forwards. “Don’t get me wrong, Peter, but are you sure you want to work here? Aren’t you better suited to…like, a computer science major? You just don’t look like the kind of guy we’d usually hire.”

Peter takes that to mean you look like a massive fucking nerd, moron. Well, Clint’s not wrong, but it’s always a bit jarring to hear someone say it actually out loud. He’s not the kind of person who works in a cool bar with cool people who wear Doc Martens and listen to the Arctic Monkeys.

“He’s hired because I say he’s hired,” Tony interjects, pressing his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “And because this little punk thinks that he doesn’t want to go get a STEM major.”

Clint smirks a little at that, like he’s gone from zero to just a touch of respect for him. “Teenage rebellion, huh?”

“No,” Peter replies, not that convincingly. “I just don’t want to go to college, alright?”

“Not right now, but a few weeks of working with these absolute head-cases will have you handing in your transcripts before you can say Ivy League,” Tony states and Clint chuckles, “You will be begging for the sweet release of the Princeton marching band and that compulsory calculus class.”

Peter looks over at Clint, who merely nods in a faux serious manner. “We’re special here, Parker. Absolutely one-of-a-kind.”

“Who’s one of a kind?” Another voice rings out behind them, clearly feminine but surprisingly low and sultry in tone. When Peter turns, he sees a petite woman with red hair that scuffs her shoulders, skinny jeans hugging her legs and a leather jacket over her shoulders. She clutches a shopping bag in her left hand, her nails painted the same shade as her hair. Her Converse sneakers are black and streaked with dirt, but like they were made that way, like it’s all staged.

He has to actively fight his jaw from dropping open. Because, Jesus—he isn’t blind. She’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen…and there’s something about her, a familiar quality he can’t quite place, like he’s seen her before in another time or place. She smirks when she finds him staring. Peter flushes, looking away, and thinks idly about beautiful gardens and being tempted in by a Devil.

“You are,” Clint replies effortlessly and, like that, Peter realises that there must have fucked at some point. Her eyes glint as she drops her bag on the counter.

“I assume you’re here for a reason, Stark,” she says, “If this is your new intern, I’m dying for a coffee.”

“Funny,” Tony shoves his hands in his pockets. “And as I was just telling Barton, this is your new employee.”

“As of when?”

“As of right now.”

When this woman assesses him, it feels more scathing than it did with Clint. Her eyes are slower, her expression less readable. Clint was clear in his uncertainty. It’s impossible to tell with her. Eventually, she halts, lips pursed. “Huh.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Clint responds. He’s back on the coffee table, like he’s bored by the whole situation.

Tony stands back, folding his arms. “You have an opening now the other Maximoff has moved on, and this moron needs a reality check. You lot are probably the worst people I could think of to give it to him.”

The redhead blinks slowly. She rests her chin in one hand, her elbow on the bar. She’s looking straight at Peter, green eyes blazing like exotic jewels. “You have any bar experience?”

“Uh…” Peter scratches his head sheepishly, “No?”

“You train him, Nat,” Tony says when Nat looks skeptical, “You train the hell out of him. Or get him to do the 4am bathroom cleaning shift. Your choice.”

“We have Clint for that,” she says, and Clint throws a scatter cushion at her. She catches it with ridiculously quick reflexes and dumps it on a bar stool before hopping onto it. Her shopping bag is exclusively filled with grapefruits. “Although, we do need a new bartender now Pietro has fucked off.” She pulls a knife from seemingly nowhere and points it in Peter’s direction, which gives off a threatening air that Nat looks all too comfortable with. Worryingly. “But no doing homework at the bar. It’ll ruin our image.”

“I’m not…” Peter starts, but Nat’s smirking again. So. He’s just going to have to accept the fact this is going to be a running joke, right? Anything that gets Tony off his back.

“You’re kind of adorable,” Nat says, looking over at Clint. “Steve will love him.”

“Steve will try and adopt him.”

“Steve will try and adopt anything that looks vaguely pained and puppy-like,” She chops a grapefruit in half, then into quarters. “It’s taking everything I have to convince him we don’t need a golden retriever right now. It’s exhausting.”

(At this point, he stands gormlessly and watches both Clint and Nat bicker back and forwards about this Steve, this guy that Nat must be dating, and nothing clicks. Nothing clicks yet. He feels like a bit of an idiot when he eventually does, though, because of course. That’s why Nat looks so familiar.)

“Well,” Tony interrupts in a tiny pocket of silence where Clint and Nat aren’t snarking at each other, “Consider Peter your anniversary gift. He’s every bit as charming as a golden retriever without having to pick up the shit. I think he’s already potty-trained. I think.”

Peter shakes his head out of disbelief. Not biological, but every single bit as embarrassing as a blood relative in front of anyone cool. Nat doesn’t take her eyes off the grapefruits.

“Our anniversary was last month, asshole, and all you gave us was a fucking star named after us. You know, one of those dumb certificates you buy online for about ten dollars.”

Tony clutches his heart dramatically. “It’s romantic, not that I’d expect you to understand. Imagine looking up at the night sky and knowing a little piece of you and Steve is up there, glimmering just for you, courtesy of me. That’s special, Nat. Money can’t buy that feeling.”

“Money can buy that feeling. You bought it for ten dollars. Fortunately for you, Steve is a gullible and the sappiest son-of-a-bitch we know so at least someone enjoyed the sentiment.” Natasha pauses for a moment, resting the knife down on the counter. “Now. You—Peter—how much, exactly, do you know about cocktails?”

-

There are things he learns incredibly quickly when working with Nat—facts, logistics, statements. Both Clint and Nat have known Uncle Tony for a while, but he’s not sure why or how. Tony helped Clint and Nat buy Endgame and he continues to invest in the business, taking a share of the profits. It’s been open five years, but Clint and Nat have known each other way longer than that. He’s not sure why or how. Actually; he’s sure why, because Clint and Nat are pieces of the same puzzle, irrevocably interlocked. The way they look at each other is haunted by years and years of shared history. You’d have to be blind not to see that.

Also—Nat mixes drinks with a speed and precision that is impossible to replicate. He watches hopelessly as she grabs spirits off a rack on the wall from memory, barely glancing at the labels. Wanda occasionally brushes past and Peter can see the amused look in her eyes, like she’s in on a joke he doesn’t know about.

She’s trying to teach him how to mix a basic mojito—not their most popular drink, but one of the easiest—when the front doors swing open and a man walks in, tall and broad-shouldered, blonde hair mussed from the motorcycle helmet that hangs in his right hand. His shirt is way too tight for his torso and arms but he looks so good anyway, in a way that Peter could only ever replicate in his dreams.

It takes Peter a moment to realise, when the man smiles at Natasha like she’s every good dream he’s ever had, that this must be Steve. And then it takes another moment once he gets a decent look at his face, that this isn’t just any Steve. This is Steve fucking Rogers. And Nat… Nat is Natasha Romanoff.

“You certainly took your time,” Nat says coyly as Steve sidles over to the bar. He reaches over and takes her face in his hands, kissing her gently and casually on the lips. It’s like Peter isn’t even here. It’s nothing too intimate, though; Nat seems aware of her privacy and what she wants other people to see. She seems to have a strict code on showing and telling. Peter isn’t part of her exclusive inner sanctum (yet).

(Clint struts in, then promptly struts out again, muttering something about letting someone else be the third wheel for a change.)

“Meeting overran,” he confesses, still curved over the bar, “Honestly, I keep telling them I’m retired.”

“Show them your birth certificate. Can’t possibly expect a man in his nineties to record another album.”

Steve laughs, and honestly, it’s like watching a scene out of a romantic movie. “For some reason, they just won’t believe me. They might believe you, though. You have a way of getting people to do what you want.”

Natasha pats his cheek gently. “Absolutely. Oh—and this is Peter, by the way. Anniversary gift from Stark.”

Steve’s eyes settle on him for the first time since he arrived, because it’s very clear that he’s the kind of guy who tunes out the rest of the world when his girlfriend is in the room. “I thought Stark got us a star for our anniversary. I love that star.”

“Of course you do,” Nat titters, “And Peter is filling in for Pietro.”

Steve offers Peter his hand, and he shakes it tentatively, because this is still Steve fucking Rogers. “Great to meet you, kid.”

“Oh,” Nat lowers her voice, “He’s not a kid. He just graduated high school.” When Peter’s mouth opens, she grins. “This is Steve. He hangs about here sometimes. Can’t seem to get rid of him. I have tried, believe me.”

“You’re Steve Rogers,” Peter breathes, dumbstruck, and it’s only when Nat and Steve share a bemused look that he breaks out of his stupor, cheeks flushed. He nervously looks at his feet. “Sorry—it’s just I’m a big fan.”

There isn’t anybody who hasn’t heard of Steve Rogers, as far as Peter is aware. He’s got all his albums on CD stacked on the shelves of his bedroom and he listens when he’s feeling particularly nostalgic, pressing them into the portable player May got him a lifetime ago and lying back on his bed. Steve is the Golden Boy of America’s pop music scene, his songs soulful and sad with a quiet, yet constant, lingering optimism. It’s the kind of music that reminds him of leaves in the fall and sitting alone on the subway. The kind of voice you could get lost in, but not in the unknown, terrifying kind of the way. It’s like he’s trying to guide you home.

Steve and Nat share a look and Peter fears that he’s made a bit of an idiot of himself. Again.

“Whatever you do, don’t ask for his autograph,” Natasha scrunches her nose, glancing up at her boyfriend. Steve looks mildly entertained. Like he’s used to it. “His ego is big enough as it is.”

Steve shakes his head. His hand reaches across the bar and squeezes Natasha’s shoulder. She softly runs her hand over his knuckles—it feels weird, to use the word soft to describe Natasha, because from what Peter has seen (in his admittedly limited experience) she’s never anything but razor sharp. “You’ll come to realise, Peter, that this woman never has a day off.”

Natasha’s smile is wistful, longing. “I don’t have time for days off.”

The room suddenly feels heavy and Peter can feel something lurking under the surface of their dialogue, something that’s not being said while he’s there watching. Steve looks away, smiling at the ground. Look—he’s not that into tabloids or dumb E! News twitter threads where their pictures are plastered about like incriminating photo albums, but he’s not totally unaware of it either. He knows Nat’s surname because he’s seen her red hair on the cover of magazines at the drugstore countless times, on May’s coffee table. Some of them have been holding Steve’s hand. Some of them are just Steve. Some of them are Steve with other women.

He’s got enough knowledge to know that this relationship mustn’t be…easy. Or conventional, at the very least. Not that he knows much about that. He knows about as much about romantic love as he does parental.

(Aka, not much at all.)

Wanda is the one who breaks the moment. “Nat, Clint is asking—oh, hi Steve!”

Steve smiles and the two share a quick embrace, because Steve definitely seems like the hugging type. Meanwhile, Natasha walks round the bar and beside him—Steve slings an arm casually round her shoulder, and it’s so comfortable and natural that Peter feels something shift in his chest. Wanda lets them know that Clint needs to run over the inventory before opening in a couple of hours, so Nat leaves Peter in Wanda’s capable hands while her and Steve head down to the basement together. Peter can’t seem to drag his eyes away from them.

“You too, huh?” Wanda remarks, one eyebrow raised. Peter blinks, not sure what she means. “They’re magnetic, right? And not just because they’re both ridiculously attractive.”

Peter flushes—for what seems like the millionth time since he arrived—and covers his hands with his sleeve. “I don’t—“

“We’ve all thought it, one time or another. There isn’t anybody else like them.” Wanda smiles softly. “They haven’t had it easy but they’re happy now, so. Every cloud, yes?”

Peter nods hesitantly. “What do you mean…haven’t had it easy?”

Wanda’s smile is still gentle, but there’s an unwavering nature to it. She seems to float past him, like she’s not quite real, an ethereal ghost. “That’s not for me to tell. But I can tell you how to make more than just a mojito, if that’s adequate?”

Peter feels himself relaxing, the tension vanishing from his shoulders. Wanda is a little less terrifying than Natasha. Her eyes are big and touched with melancholy, but there’s no bitterness there. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be really adequate, thanks.”

-

His first shift—well, his first shift is insane, and he completely and totally understands why Tony thought this place would cure his college related existential crisis. The bar is packed from the moment the door opens because even though there’s no live music tonight, Clint and Nat’s sick playlists seem to reel in people from all over the city and further out. A bearded guy in a Led Zep shirt drunkenly tells Peter that he’s come all the way from Toronto to listen to Hawkeye and Black Widow, and he’s really not sure what that means.

There are also people who are here when they realise Steve is about, from Twitter or whatever. He’s not exactly under the radar as he seems to spend a lot of his free time in Endgame (for obvious reasons) but as soon as the customers start coming in, he edges away, disappearing off into the basement while Nat, Clint and the rest of them work. Other than Wanda, there’s only one more employee who turns up—a tall, buff British guy called Thor who wanders in about fifteen minutes before opening time with hair off a Herbal Essences commercial. He slaps Peter on the arm and almost knocks the wind out of him.

By the time closing time hits Peter feels battered, bruised and a little like he’s fallen out of a top floor window, his shirt covered in shit tons of unnameable alcoholic combinations and his head beating like a bass drum. Clint, Nat, Wanda and Thor weave between people and the bar like it’s ingrained in them, grinning and laughing and seemingly knowing everybody. As the cool, 2am air of August hits his face like a slap round the face, Peter wonders if he’d actually been holding his breath the whole time, waiting for the storm to be over.

He almost throws up on the stairs. Almost. He kind of wants to go home, go to bed, and never come back here again. Everything—it just happens a lot, always. Maybe he is just a kid. Maybe he’s not ready for a life outside of education, like Tony had said.

He feels a hand curl round his shoulder and he starts, but when he turns he sees Steve, oddly reassuring and stable in this new world that makes no sense whatsoever.

“You alright, Peter?” he asks, warm and empathetic, “Maybe you should sit down.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, instead sitting on the damp, stone steps that lead up to the entrance. Peter sighs heavily, goosebumps bristling up and down his arms. Cautiously, he eases down next to him. Wonders how his life got to this.

“It can get pretty intense in there, huh?” Steve nudges him with his shoulder. “I thought that when I first started singing in public, like my heart was just going to rip out my chest. But it gets easier. Maybe you’ll even enjoy it.”

Peter laughs a little at that. There’s a scab on his left thumb and he picks at it out of habit. “I think Clint was right. I’m not the kind of guy they like here.”

“God, don’t let him hear you say that. Clint can’t ever be right. The universe would implode.”

Natasha appears at the front door from nowhere, as is the pattern, and it’s the first time Peter’s seen her all evening properly—she’s wearing a black lace camisole and leather pants that leave very little to the imagination, but Peter knows better (and is better) to let his eyes hover for too long. Her lipstick matches the color of her hair. She’s absolutely breath-taking, like a rebellious Hollywood starlet. It’s the first time he’s seen her tattoos, too; she has a spider on her left shoulder, an arrow on the other and there’s the smooth curve of a circle that peaks out of the waistband of her trousers. She hands Peter a paper cup filled with water. Come to think of it, not drinking anything all night was probably a bad idea, adding dehydration to a general sense of, you know, existential dread.

“It’s just your first day, buddy,” Steve says, “It’s new. That’s all.”

“I think you did pretty well for someone with no experience,” interjects Nat. Steve gives her an exaggerated look of shock. “Hey. I said pretty well. He’s still got a lot to learn.”

“Praise indeed! You should be proud, kid. Took her over a year for her to say anything remotely nice about me.”

“That, and also I’d take every opportunity to prove Tony Stark wrong about something.” Nat smirks. “You just got to get into the music, then you won’t be able to fucking wait to come back.”

“Yeah,” Steve smiles, looking up at her, “She’s pretty exceptional at making mixtapes.”

He’s entering yet another moment that feels like an intrusion just being there, another conversation without words. He’s been the third-wheel before—countless awkward dates at the Cheesecake Factory—but this feels like a whole other level of it, because the worst kind of couple to tag along with are the ones that use silence like it’s not silence at all.

“Am I…alright to go?” Peter asks quietly, folding the cup in his hands. He’s not sure how all this works.

Nat nods. “Yeah, seeing as it’s your first day. But tomorrow you’re helping with the clean-up.”

“How are you getting back?” Steve is already sifting through dollars in his wallet, “Get a cab on me.”

“Oh—Mr Rogers, I couldn’t possibly…”

“It’s Steve, and you absolutely can.” He hands him twenty, and Nat audibly sighs from behind him. “What? What is it?”

Natasha looks totally unsurprised. “Clint was right about something. You’re totally adopting our new bartender. He’s only been here a day!”

Peter has to admit, having Steve Rogers look out for him is hardly the most disastrous thing to come out of this shift. He half-smiles, mostly to himself, unfurling the twenty between his fingers. Steve just shoots Nat a withering, long-suffering look, because this is what Steve calls being nice.

“Thank you, Steve,” Peter says, standing up, “And thanks for the water.”

Steve salutes a goodbye and Nat walks down the stairs, filling the space Peter leaves. As he saunters down the sidewalk, he picks up snippets of their conversation:

“Which star do you think is ours? You know. The one Stark bought us.”

“Oh, shut up about that goddamn star. Stark will really try and buy anything, won’t he? Even bits of the universe. You’re supposed to—I think you should just leave the cosmos the hell alone. We don’t have to understand everything.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” A pause. “The science is neither here nor there for me. And Stark’s capitalist consumerist ideology aside…I just like to think the stars all come out for you.”

(He thinks about that all the way home, in the slow hum of the cab, the buzzing tinnitus in his ears. He thinks about loving someone so much you want the whole universe to exist just for them.)

-

The first thing he does when he gets home is Google them. He can’t help himself. He just—he has to know more. But as soon as he types in their names, and a ton of unsavoury articles mentioning other women and possibilities about Natasha’s past come up, he feels disgusted with himself. This isn’t the truth. This is just hearsay and shady sources and the edges of facts cobbled together with hyperbolic adjectives and PVA glue. This feels voyeuristic and weird, like he’s doing something explicitly wrong, like he’s listening to high school gossip.

He turns to Instagram instead. Natasha’s—predictably—is on private and he’s too awkward to send a request, and the blur of red on the icon might not even be her. Steve’s is a lot easier to find. He’s got almost three million followers and a blue tick, his photo an outtake from some shoot where he’s laughing like a maniac. His most recent picture isn’t even of him. It’s Natasha, caught off guard in the basement of Endgame, looking through the stack of records he’d seen on the coffee table. When he swipes along there’s another where she’s using a Bon Iver vinyl to cover her face, looking beneath her eyelashes at the camera. The caption reads though she be but little, she is fierce.

And this—this, he realises, is the only narrative of the two of them that matters.

-

The next day he wakes with a thumping headache. When he asks May if there’s any aspirin, she looks at him with a mix of disappointment and muted shock.

“Yes, I agreed with Tony when he said getting a job would be good for you, but really Peter?” she tuts, to Peter’s confusion, popping two tablets out of the tray and into his hands. “What was it, then? Beer? Rum? Vodka?”

Oh. Oh. She thinks… “Relax, May. I didn’t do anything. The music was just loud, that’s all.”

May doesn’t look entirely convinced, her eyes slightly narrowed, but it admittedly isn’t in Peter’s character to engage with any underage drinking (even though that’s what he’d probably do in college, if he was still going). Clint had slid him across a jack and coke with a wink at some point after midnight, but he’d let it go warm on the counter. The only time he’d ever really drunk was at Liz Allan’s New Year’s party at the end of junior year, and that was only to prove to that dumbass Flash Thompson that he wasn’t a pussy. His puke tasted like beer and then that just made him puke more.

“I just worry about you. I’ve never pictured you working in a place like that.” May sits at the kitchen counter, watching him as he swallows back the pills. “Couldn’t you send your resume to a bookstore or something? Bryony from Pilates says she’s looking for a new waiter at her place. Maybe that’s more your… thing.”

It’s quite likely that’s more his thing, but the told you so that would come out of Tony’s mouth is persuasion enough to keep on at it. Yeah, he feels like death and another night like yesterday is not going to make that any better, but surely he’ll get used to it. Right?

“I’m not quitting already. It wasn’t so bad. Plus, I got to meet Steve Rogers.”

May’s eyes almost bulge out of her head. “Excuse me? Steve Rogers as in…?”

“Yep,” Peter pops the ‘p’, grin tugging at his lips. His aunt isn’t exempt in the nationwide crush everybody has on Steve Rogers. “The manager—well, one of the managers—is his girlfriend. You know Nat Romanoff?”

“Oh, so she’s Nat Romanoff to you,” May chides, “Didn’t realise you two had got so close already.”

“Shut up. She’s kind of terrifying. So is the other guy who runs the place. But there’s a girl there—Wanda. She’s pretty awesome.”

May purses her lips, studying his expression. “Is she pretty pretty too?”

“No!” Peter replies a little too quickly, to May’s delight, “No—she’s… nice, but she’s a bit older than me. Anyway, I’ve told you before. I’m not looking for anything like that.”

(It’s been almost a year since Liz Allan tore his heart to pieces and he’s still not over it. It’s kind of pathetic, really. They were never really dating to begin with, but it all felt so real anyway.)

“Alright,” May hums, “Just…be careful, okay? I heard you come back late last night and I hate thinking about you walking about on your own.”

He wants to say that he’s eighteen and basically an adult and that New York City at 3am doesn’t scare him, but him and May have been so close his whole life and it must be difficult, her watching the little boy dropped abruptly on her doorstep all those years ago growing up and moving on. Other than Uncle Tony, who walks in and out of his life when it suits him, May is all he has. And she’s only got him. There’s a lifeline there that holds them indefinitely together and she hates watching it stretch, fray.

“Steve got me a cab,” he says gently, “And I’ll bring my bike tonight. I’m totally fine. I promise.”

She gets up, kisses him on the top of his head, between the curls that are still damp from the shower. It makes him feel like a kid, but not in the restrictive, controlling way Tony does when he’s pissed at him. It makes him feel nostalgic for the time where May would kiss his scraped knees better when he tripped on the sidewalk and make him peanut butter sandwiches with the crusts cut off for his lunch box.

“I love you more than anything,” May says, her mantra. You don’t have a lot, but you do have me.

Peter smiles. Blinks slowly. “I love you too, May.”

-

Just before he leaves the apartment for another round, a notification lights up his phone. He doesn’t recognise the number, but he opens the text anyway, and it’s a link to a Spotify page ran by username blackwidow. The playlist is titled for peter.

-

“You’ve looked them both up on Instagram, right?”

Wanda says this as she drops on the sofa next to him, propping her feet on the coffee table. Clint and Nat are bickering in the office adjoined to the kitchen and occasionally he can see one of them through the window—he’s almost certain at one point Nat had Clint by the throat, but Thor looks at him, shaking his head. You just gotta let them ride this one out.

“Uh…what?” Peter absent-mindedly replies, dragging his eyes away from the pot of pens that has just collided with the window. Wanda doesn’t react. It must be normal.

“Steve and Natasha,” Wanda elaborates, “I did. It’s the first thing I did, after I met them. You wanna know about someone’s life, you find their social media. Or lack of it.”

Peter sighs. Well, at least it’s not just him. “Yeah, I did.”

“I’m assuming you haven’t sent Natasha a request.”

“Nope.”

Wanda grins. “She’s meticulous. Natasha. Obsessed with privacy and who gets to see what. I’m surprised she has social media at all. I mean…it’s not illogical, considering, but she does not reveal her soul to just anybody. Steve, on the other hand, is an open book. Not very good at hiding anything. Which is usually a good thing, sometimes not.”

Peter tilts his head, taking Wanda in. She’s wearing makeup today, black smudged round her eyes. May’s right, she is pretty pretty. “You seem to know quite a lot about them.”

“I’ve worked with them for a while now. And anyway. They’re interesting. You see it, too. Sometimes it’s hard to look away when they’re together.” Wanda doesn’t flinch when another crash comes from the office. “You wonder how they work, because they seem so very different.”

Peter shrugs. She’s not wrong, obviously, but he doesn’t want to look too interested, like the creepy fans that leave leery comments on Steve’s pictures. “People do say that opposites attract.”

“People are stupid. And vague. What even are opposites?” Wanda’s laugh is low and sort of croaky. “I am just glad they found their way back to each other.”

“How did they even meet?”

Wanda’s smile is the same one he saw yesterday, like he’s encountered a dead end and she knows it. This is not her story to tell, like so many others. “I am sure you will find out eventually.”

Clint bursts out of the office, then, dabbing at a cut on his cheek with a napkin. He looks kind of like he’s been dragged through a hedge backwards, flustered and breathing hard. His eyebrows lift when he sees Peter sitting there, offering the two of them a quick greeting.

“Oh, and Clint!” Natasha calls out, appearing from behind the door, “Could you get me an iced latte?”

Clint considers for a second, before nodding. She throws him her reusable mug and he catches it with one hand before turning to leave.

“Don’t even try and get me to explain that relationship,” Wanda says, “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

Peter laughs under his breath. It’s like Nat said, in the conversation he shouldn’t have heard. We don’t have to understand everything.

-

At about 11pm that night he joins Wanda for a cigarette out the back fire door and for the first time, he feels kind of cool, watching as the end burns a tiny amber dot, ripping a hole in the black. He’d never smoke one himself—the fact that May is horrified by him consuming alcohol is bad enough—but he likes watching her, how oddly and decadently beautiful the smoke unfurling from her lips is.

At the bottom of the alley, a motorbike pulls up and a man that looks vaguely Steve-shaped jumps off of it. Wanda glances at him with a smirk, stubbing out the cigarette with the toe of her boot. His arms fold out, and a woman runs into them, their laughter echoing down the street. They obviously don’t know that him and Wanda are watching; it feels like a private glimpse that they’re not supposed to see, a privilege. Natasha’s legs wrap round his waist. They hold each other for what feels like minutes, hours.

He can’t take his eyes away the whole time.

“I told you,” Wanda elbows him, brushing past to get to the door. “They’re magnetic. You’re pulled into their orbit.”

“I just…I don’t know why,” Peter says, dumbfounded, “Maybe it’s the way they look at each other? Like the whole world could burn to ashes and they’d just…stand, in the afterglow.”

“You’re poetic, Parker,” Wanda muses, “But you’re not wrong, either.”

They’re pulled back into the heat of the club when Clint realises they’re not working, grabbing them both by the shoulders and violently shoving them back onto the bar. He’s not paying them to gossip about snapchat and heelies, or whatever the kids are into these days, apparently. And Thor can only handle so much attention before his ego combusts.

He’s mixing a bad gin and tonic when Natasha and Steve finally come into the back. Her tiny frame guides him through the throngs of people as a The 1975 song plays in the background, crooning about skinny jeans and spare time and she’s got a boyfriend anyway. They disappear down the basement steps and Natasha must be a little drunk, he reckons, because the door is barely shut when they start kissing.

-

It takes about two and a half weeks, give or take, for things to start to feel normal. The hours fuck up any semblance of a sleeping pattern, but he’s no longer waking up with a thudding in his skull like a second heartbeat and Wanda’s tip about earplugs help a ton. He arrives at about three, sometimes earlier, sometimes later. He’s usually off again by two unless Nat or Clint are feeling generous about clean-up. The bar is shut every Sunday and the freedom is near divine. He doesn’t get up until midday and spends the rest of the day in his pajamas, eating pancakes and watching shitty reality television about people who are paid to sing badly or hate each other.

Steve is in the bar most nights and whilst he doesn’t always talk to Peter, he begins to miss him when he’s not there. He’s usually got a motivational speech or two in his back pocket, and it feels pretty fucking awesome that Steve Rogers seems to care a little about his wellbeing.

He hasn’t had the nerve to ask about how they met, yet. Wanda is still tight-lipped and Clint is borderline psychotic anyway, so each of them feel like a dead-end. He’s stuck with assumptions and watching them from his peripheral.

“You know, he wrote his last album about her,” Clint says in a rare moment of honesty, while they’re preparing for opening. Steve and Nat are tucked in a booth by the door, her knees brought to her chest, speaking impossibly close together. “It’s abhorrently adorable. Almost puked when I heard it.”

“What?” Peter says skeptically, “You mean the whole of See You In a Minute is about Natasha?”

“The whole goddamn thing. Sickening, isn’t it? I think the title is some sort of private joke between them.”

Peter doesn’t mention that Steve’s last album is his favorite, because he doesn’t need more excuses for Clint to bully him. Plus, he needs to push on. He needs to know more. “Have they always been like that? You know. Close.”

Clint pauses. He’s polishing glasses, but lays the cloth on the counter, looking over at him. “I’ve known Nat a long time. Long enough to know that it takes…a lot, to impress her. To pull her in. Even with me—and with Steve—it took her months to realise there was a mutual trust there.” He grins a little, showing the softer side to all that strident energy. “If you tell her this, I will violently murder you, but I love that girl to bits and I wouldn’t accept just anybody taking her away from me. But I accepted Steve immediately. So take from that what you will.”

It doesn’t really answer his question, but he supposes it answers a bunch of other unasked ones.

There’s a moment of silence. And then—

“Have you and Nat ever…?”

The look Clint gives him makes him realise he knows better than to finish that sentence.

-

(He brings up See You in a Minute on Spotify the moment he has time alone before opening, back on the leather couch in the basement. He figures the songs might have a new meaning now he knows who they’re about. His thumb taps the titular song—a slow, atmospheric ballad that sits in the recesses of his heart as soon as he hears the opening piano chords.

I have one last dance all saved up for you

He really wishes he wasn’t crying, but he just can’t help it.)

-

A band is playing that night called The Guardians who everyone but Peter seems to know well. They’re a six-piece retro rock band that the crowd goes wild for—they all have crazy hair colors and equally crazy names, apart from the lead singer, who’s messy brown hair is barely brushed and is weirdly also called Peter. They stay for a while after their set has finished, building up a substantial bar tab that Clint’s on their ass about. Peter Quill and his girlfriend Gamora (the other singer and guitar player of the band, her hair bright green and her lips painted black) sit on the stools and tease Peter (who they call Little P, hilarious) until closing time.

“Are you even allowed to serve alcohol?” Quill jibes, sipping a beer, “Isn’t there a rule against children being anywhere near liquor in public?”

Gamora pokes his shoulder. “Maybe it’s some sort of psychology project. He’s studying us for a paper.”

Peter can’t even be bothered to argue at this point. He still gets this same genre of comedy from Clint on a daily basis so what’s a couple more age-related jokes? He just smiles, mixing a cosmo for Gamora’s scary looking sister who silently glares at him from the stool next to her.

“You know what would be a fun psychology project,” Quill points a finger in Peter’s direction, “Nat Romanoff.”

Peter pauses for a second. “What makes you say that?”

Quill’s limbs are loose from all the drink he’s been downing before, during and after his performance, so his movements are all exaggerated and floppy. “Don’t tell me you’re not interested. Clint too. They both have shit in their pasts they don’t want us to know about.”

Gamora is decidedly more composed. She shakes her head, looking at Peter seriously. “All conjecture, of course. And none of our business.”

“I heard she was a spy for the Russian government,” Nebula casually mentions, her tone completely void of inflection. “She can slit someone’s neck with an envelope.”

All three of them look at Nebula, slightly aghast, but Nebula’s expression is so stoic and emotionless Peter can’t tell if she’s joking or not. Even Quill blinks heavily, knocked speechless.

“That’s…not what I meant,” Quill slurs, leaning in closer, “But there’s something there.” He taps the side of his nose. “Mark my words.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Gamora says, “Having a past you want to remain in the past is hardly rare.”

Peter’s beginning to notice a pattern with his colleagues. They all guard their memories under heavily armored doors and it’s only in occasional moments of softness or weakness where anything is ever revealed, and rarely by the person themselves. Clint let’s something slip about Natasha, Wanda about Clint. None of them really know anything about him.

“How long have you guys known Nat and Clint?” Peter asks, before tentatively adding, “And Steve?”

Quill and Gamora smile knowingly, like maybe this is a question that’s been asked before. Gamora presses a hand down on Quill’s shoulder. Peter hides the urge to sigh at another dead end. “We’ve been performing here since they opened, but if you actually want to know anything about them we’re probably the worst people to ask.”

Quill nods. “They don’t talk. If you ever find anything out, though, feel free to let us know.”

Peter laughs disbelievingly. “As if they’ll ever tell me anything.”

“Have you asked them?” Gamora replies, and Peter’s expression answers her question. “Little P, if they didn’t think they could trust you, they wouldn’t have hired you. They don’t let just anybody into their inner circle.”

“My uncle got me the job—he’s like, an investor, or something. Trust had nothing to do with it. Probably the opposite.”

Gamora’s lip curve, unconvinced. “I think you know it’s never quite that simple.”

“I don’t…I don’t even know why I’m so interested.”

“That’s what everybody says,” Gamora says wistfully, sliding him a tip across the counter. “And we should probably leave before he makes a fool of himself.”

(The he in question is Quill, who has since disappeared to join the dancing crowds with his shirt off. Nebula’s eye roll is mechanical, like the rest of her. Peter wonders if Quill and Gamora are her Steve and Nat; two wildly different individuals that seem joined together by something no-one else can see, that no-one quite understands. She downs the rest of her cocktail and makes her way towards the couple, who have since started kissing in the middle of the dancefloor.)

Gamora kind of reminds him of Michelle. Clever, beautiful, existing on a plane that floats way above everybody else. He swallows hard. He’s not sure where that thought came from.

-

By coincidence, MJ actually messages him about a week later. He’s been so busy either sleeping or working that all his friendships outside Endgame have taken a bit of a back-burner, texts stacking in his inbox that he’s been too tired to respond to. Besides, the only person he really keeps in contact with from high school is Ned and he’s spending the vacation before he goes to college with his family in Hawaii—he’s kept updated with sunkissed snapchats from the beach, exotic flowers and drinks in coconut shells. He’s hovered over Michelle’s name a few times over the past few weeks, but she isn’t always the kind to message back. She flies off grid as soon as school is out. There’s no point in tormenting himself over her lack of read receipts.

But when she messages, asking if they want to meet at the mall, he types sure before he can properly think about it. It’s a Sunday, after all, and he’s been thinking an awful lot about the limited relationships he has lately. What he wants them to be.

(That’s definitely a bi-product of Nat and Steve. He can’t put it down to anything else.)

MJ is sat by the fountain in the middle of the shopping complex reading a copy of Marx’s The Communist Manifesto, making notes with a tiny wooden Ikea pencil. Her dark hair is long and loose and she’s wearing a plaid shirt with sneakers, casually beautiful in the way she’s always been. It takes her a minute to look up and actually see him standing in front of her and when she does, her mouth opens a little, curved in a bemused grin.

“Woah, Peter,” she says, closing her book, “Didn’t realise you were edgy now.”

(She’s talking about his new Doc Martens that Wanda helped pick out. They’re shiny black leather and extremely uncomfortable, but you know, he’s getting down with the culture.)

“I’m…not,” Peter says. MJ laughs at his awkwardness. “You should see the people I work with.”

“This your new job, huh?” MJ eases back into the bench, crossing her legs. “Now you’ve decided to fuck college. Is this the beginning of a crisis? I’m getting vibes, here. Smart kids who screw college to work in a nightclub are definitely going on some sort of downward psychological spiral.”

Peter shrugs, smiling. Trust MJ to be brutally honest about his life choices. “Do you wanna grab coffee?”

“Yeah, as long as it’s not Starbucks. I’m not using my limited finances to fund their crooked corporate empire.”

They trail around for a bit before they find a cripplingly expensive but decidedly independent coffee house, filled with mismatched vintage furniture and hipster-types crowding the front windows with their moleskin notebooks. Peter feels out of place but Michelle fills the space like she owns it, lounging in an armchair angled away from the counter. She closes her eyes and asks for a chamomile tea and a blueberry muffin which he—he just gets for her.

He returns with an Americano for himself, because for some reason he wants MJ to think he’s the kind of person who drinks black coffee now, when in reality he’d prefer something fruity and sugary that has him flying off the walls.

“So…” Michelle starts as he falls into the sofa opposite, “You’re definitely not going to Princeton?”

Peter folds his legs. Tries to get comfortable. “I’m definitely not going to Princeton.”

“Interesting. Even though Tony Stark will probably fund, like, all your tuition fees?”

Peter rolls his eyes. He hates her insistence on bringing up the fact he has Tony in his life, a handy billionaire safety-blanket, like he can’t complain about anything ever. Yeah, sure, Tony would probably fund his way through college—but he wonders how much of that is guilt money, the dollars his mom and dad would have scraped together if they were still alive. Not everything is about money. Tony Stark is the kind of person MJ hates with every fibre of her being, but… Peter still loves him, and not just because he’s rich as shit. Even when he’s being super annoying.

Michelle smiles sadly when he doesn’t reply. “I’m sorry, Peter. It’s just hard for me to get my head around, you know? I would commit homicide for someone to fund my way through college. Maybe I already have.”

Peter chuckles. Has a sip of his god-awful coffee. “Where are you even going for college? I don’t think you’ve ever said. In-state?”

“It’s what I’ve been meaning to tell you, actually,” MJ admits, “It’s a bit further out than in-state.”

“Oh. Right. Pennsylvania?”

“Bit further than that.”

“…California?”

“Not exactly.”

“MJ, are you going to make me run through every college I know about? Tony’s shoved just about every prospectus in my direction so we might be here a while.”

“I got accepted onto a philosophy program,” MJ starts, bringing her teacup to her lips. “At University College London.”

Peter almost spits his coffee out everywhere.

“I honestly didn’t think anything would come of it. The whole admissions process in England is completely whack, and they don’t have SATs and stuff over there so I didn’t think I had a chance. But—I don’t know. Something happened, and I got in. So I guess I’m moving to London.”

He’s not completely sure what she’s saying, just watching her mouth move and nothing but blurred, incoherent noise reaching her. She said London. MJ is moving to London, and that’s a hell of a long way from anywhere.

“You’re moving to London?” he just about manages to squeak.

“Yep. Totally aced it, dude. Time to live my English dream. You know. Try and abolish the class system they have over there and stage a revolution against their monarchy.”

A vacuum opens in his stomach, like he’s just now realising that he doesn’t really want to live in a country that isn’t the same as MJ’s. But she looks so happy. He doesn’t want to be, but he can’t help it. He can’t not be happy for someone who is about to do everything they’ve ever wanted.

Nevertheless, it’s an inconvenient epiphany. Wanting to hold onto someone as soon as they tell you they’re going to leave.

“Congratulations,” he says, hoping there isn’t a crack in his voice. “That’s…incredible, MJ. You’re awesome.”

“I know! And now you’re earning a proper wage like an adult, you can totally come and visit me over there. We can eat scones and laugh at how ridiculous British accents are.” She kicks him gently, grinning. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Peter says quietly. “Yeah, of course I will.”

“Cool. Now we’ve got that out the way…” MJ reaches into her bag, bringing out her little black copy of The Communist Manifesto. “Can I interest you in a dialogue with my new BFF, Karl?”

He sinks back into his chair, feels his whole body bleed between the fabric and through the floorboards.

-

He walks into work the next day and finds Steve and Natasha sitting in one of the booths. Steve has an acoustic guitar and he’s strumming chords while Nat is nodding along, pointing at something on a scrap of notebook paper in front of him. Occasionally, he’ll grab a marker and cross something out or scribble something down. When the door shuts behind him, the two of them look over. God. He’s got a running habit of ruining moments.

“Hey Peter!” Steve calls out in his usual, friendly way, “What’s up?”

He’s about to reply, but Natasha edges in first. “Come over here. Let’s talk.”

There’s something ominous in her tone but Natasha is impossible to predict, so a vague sense of anxiety haunts him as he sidles over to the booth and sits slowly in the space Nat has made for him. He wonders if she’s firing him but Steve looks chipper—surely he wouldn’t look that happy if he was about to lose his job, right? Maybe his not so discrete interest in their relationship has…got back to them? He’s already imagining the look on Tony’s face. I said you needed a reality check.

“Am I in trouble?”

Nat laughs. Even that is low and sultry, somehow sexy. Steve laughs too. “Peter—I know we tease you about it, but you do realise you’re not in school, right? And…calm, measured conversation isn’t usually how we deal with things here.”

He recalls the argument in the office a few weeks prior. Yeah, sounds about right.

“We just want to know about you,” Nat continues, “Because—I know a lot about the people I work with. But I don’t know anything about you, other than what Stark has said. And I trust his judgement about as much as I trust Steve’s.”

“Hey!” Steve says with a pout, “My judgement is perfect, thank you very much.”

“It’s the opposite of perfect, but okay, Mr I-trust-everybody-I’ve-met-ever.”

Steve shakes his head at him. “This is what I get for not being openly hostile all the time.”

“It’s got me and Clint this far. Anyway, I digress.” She nudges Peter gently. “Tell us something about you.”

Peter is mildly suspicious about the whole thing and doesn’t know what to say, so just stares vacantly at the two of them.

“Okay…well, at least we know you’re not a talker,” Nat murmurs, “So how about I ask you a question. Who was the girl you were with at the mall yesterday?” Peter’s jaw swings open like a door on a loose hinge. Nat half-smiles. “I saw you when I was coming out the Urban Outfitters. I’m curious.”

Steve glowers at her. “Peter, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. She’s insatiable.”

“Oh, yeah. But if you don’t answer it you’ll be kind of answering it, if you get what I mean.”

Peter’s taken aback. For someone who is so private about everything, she’s appears to have no qualms investigating his private life. He coughs on nothing and shifts in his seat awkwardly. “Just a friend. From school. It isn’t—she isn’t…”

Nat laughs under her breath, looking over at Steve. “He’s right. It’s none of my business. But you two looked good together. That’s always a good start.”

“Is it?” Steve asks, and she sighs.

“I think so,” Nat splays her hands out on the table. He notices her fingernails are painted electric blue. “But, sure. It isn’t everything.”

“What is everything?”

The question catches both of them off guard and Peter instantly regrets asking, wishing he could catch his words back in a butterfly net and shove them back inside of him. The two of them are…they’re untouchable, Wanda and Clint have both made that equally clear. It’s something you find out, not something you’re told. But it’s too late now. Steve and Nat look at each other in a minute of an intense, burning eye contact and not for the first time Peter imagines being swallowed up by the seat whole.

“I guess…” Steve begins but trails off. Peter watches as his fingers inch closer to Natasha’s on a table, like they’re playing a complex game wherein they discover where their boundaries are, how far they can go while he’s still there. “I guess everything is when you’re sat in a room, and there could be just one person it or thousands, but it doesn’t matter because none of those faces are the one you want it to be. The only perfect room, the only one you’ll ever be happy in, is the one they inhabit with you. To leave it…or for them to leave, feels like you’re constantly just gasping for air.”

Natasha looks away. Somehow, Steve manages to drag his eyes away from her, after saying all that, and back to Peter.

“But sometimes everything is just knowing the favorite brand of ice cream they like to eat when everything is awful or the setting they prefer their washing machine on. It’s all about striking a balance.” He half-smiles. “Sometimes it takes a while to find it.”

Peter frowns. He likes Michelle, likes her more than he’d ever let on if the uncontrollable reaction his body had after she said she was leaving is anything to go by, but how can he know if it’s everything? What Steve is saying sounds suspiciously like soulmates, if they exist. That not being with them feels like dying. What he feels for MJ is blurry, inconstant; but it’s there all the same. He’s not sure if that flame is supposed to become anything more. Not that it matters.

“Michelle is moving to London for college,” Peter says desolately, then rolls his shoulders. “She’ll be living a whole other life over there. I can’t expect her to fit me into it, even if she liked me back.”

“Hey, Peter?” Nat says with a sympathetic smile, “Distance sucks, but you know what sucks more? Waiting too long. We know a thing or two about it, and I’d recommend quite heavily against it.”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve adds his two cents, “I’d give it a one star review on Amazon for being the worst ever. Not what I ordered, arrived broken, the lot.”

Clint enters and asks if they need a witness to sign the adoption papers and Nat throws a dirty washcloth at him, everything returning to normal. But there’s a warm feeling in Peter’s chest, because this is the closest he’s ever got. Maybe Gamora was right.

-

He sends Michelle a text that night, asking if they could maybe meet up again. She doesn’t reply. Maybe she never will, because that happens. But he’s not waiting too long. It’s not what he ordered.

-

They have an evening off a couple of weeks later because it’s Nat’s birthday. Apparently it’s tradition that whenever her or Clint turn a year older they fuck potential profit for a day and spend the night drinking whatever they can get their hands on. Instead, Peter’s invited to a small party that is hosted at Clint’s apartment across town—he’s still dragged to the bar a couple of hours before, however, to roll kegs of beer and various bottles of multi-colored spirits from the storeroom to Clint’s car for the occasion. He vanishes back home to shower and change before returning, May hastily shoving a bottle of wine into his hands as a gift as he leaves. He’s pretty sure he’s never seen Nat drink white at all, but hey. He’s only little. He doesn’t know much about liquor.

Clint buzzes him in and he follows the drum beat in the corridor to his top-floor apartment; the door is open so he just walks in, but is surprised when he sees nobody about. The speaker is blasting music into an empty room and if it wasn’t for Wanda entering the kitchen, he’d assume he’d come to the wrong house.

“Peter!” she says excitedly, squeezing him into a tight hug. Her dark hair is loose across her shoulders and she’s wearing a burgundy dress that floats above her knees. He can’t help but smile at her. “So glad you could make it!”

He leans out of the embrace, putting the wine on the counter. Glasses are spread out without any clear design, interspersed with opened bottles of various drinks. As far as he can see, there’s no non-alcoholic alternatives—May would probably freak out. “Where is everybody?”

“Did Clint not tell you? We’re on the roof. I’m just off to the bathroom but if you go through the door off the kitchen and up the fire escape you won’t miss it.”

She bounds away so he slowly makes his way up as per Wanda’s instructions. As soon as he opens the door he can hear chatter and laughter, and upon reaching the top he finds an area covered in strings of white fairy lights and odd chairs from jarring furniture sets. A bar runs along the edge near the wall where Clint is mixing drinks, rows of glasses filled with a very generous amount of vodka and garnished with olives. There are people he recognises—Steve and Natasha are tucked into a loveseat, finally comfortable with the eyes on them, with Thor perched on the edge—but mostly people he doesn’t. A man with white hair sits comfortably with a brunette woman, while two unknown men stand deep in conversation off to the side. Nobody notices him straightaway and he feels little odd, the youngest there, but Clint dramatically fist-pumps the air.

“Parker!” he exclaims, walking over and clapping him ferociously on the shoulder. He wonders just how long the drinking has been going before he arrived as he tries not to cough up his lungs. “No extra-curriculars tonight? Lacrosse, maybe?”

“Leave him alone, Clint!” Natasha says, to Peter’s surprise, but then— “He’s way too little for lacrosse. I think he’s more of a mathlete.”

“Who’s kid brother is this, then?” One of the men he clocked earlier calls out before heading over, “Could be Rogers, I suppose. You both have that needy white boy look about you.”

Peter sighs, stretching out his arms. “Should we just get all the insults out the way now? Then we can move on with our lives.”

Needless to say, the insults don’t decrease with time—if anything they continue to spike as more vodka is consumed and less fucks are given, which are outstandingly little to begin with. Sam—a friend of Steve’s from his touring days—is by far the most scathing, not letting him rest for a second. Peter kind of likes it, though. It’s the way a lot of them show affection for each other, brutally kicking the shit at every opportunity. Steve’s other friend is Bucky, someone from childhood, and the white-haired guy is Wanda’s brother Pietro who left Endgame for music management somewhere. Maria and Phil work in legal and know Clint and Nat from wherever they were before Endgame. A good-natured yet authoritative man called Rhodey turns up later, who Peter recognises from Tony’s offices but has never actually met. Maybe Tony and Pepper will turn up at some point. Maybe they won’t.

Clint offers him one of Nat’s Special Birthday Martinis. He’s on the edge of turning it down, but everybody is laughing and he kind of feels part of this, so why not. The taste is bitter and awful and Clint laughs at him for a very long time, until his eyes water and he has to go and sit down. He talks to Wanda and Pietro, about their life in Sokovia before civil war ripped it to pieces, and Steve mentions how he took Nat out for Chinese food and champagne.

Steve brings in Natasha’s cake and Nat flushes—just a little—as she sees the candles flicker in the relative darkness, like Steve is holding a fire in his hands. Her eyes flutter closed as she blows out the candles and Peter muses on what she wished for, or if she wished at all. The alcohol makes his stomach feel warm, and the people make him feel warm, and he thinks this little party in this pocket of New York City may be one of the happiest moments of his life.

As the hours lull into the coolness of the morning, guests in various states of drunkenness either leave or continue on into Clint’s apartment. Peter takes a minute to steady himself, his heady heart and clouded head. He clings onto the metal railings until his knuckles turn white, staring out over the city. His city. He can’t go to college because he can’t leave here, all the lights and the heat and the music. New York is him and he is New York. This is something that cannot be ever taken away from him.

He hears footsteps and instead of you know, staying, like a normal person, Peter’s instinct is to duck behind the bar. He’s not ready for anyone to see him yet. He just wants a couple more moments alone with the world—plus he feels a little drunk, and being drunk is the best right here.

The footsteps come to a halt barely feet away from him. He’s not trying to listen as this is weird enough as it is, but it’s difficult not to. It’s Steve and Natasha.

“Another year, another one of Clint’s illegal martinis.” Steve’s voice. “Or two. Or several.”

Nat laughs lightly. “I’m going to go with several. I better not be holding your hair back while you puke tonight, boy. It’s my birthday.”

“Well—technically it stopped being your birthday a few hours ago, Nat, but I’ll let it slide because I love you.”

“You love me, huh? That’s certainly a new development.”

“Nah, it isn’t. Loved you the moment I saw you.”

“You fall in love with everybody.”

“Not in the way I love you. God, Nat. Do you actually realise what you do to me? Every time I look at you—you rip all the air out of my lungs.”

“That sounds pretty painful.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s agony. But it’s worth every second because…because you’re you. After everything. You’re you.”

There’s a few seconds of quiet. Peter wishes he’d just gone because as much as he wanted to know about them, to feel closer to them, this isn’t…this isn’t it. This is too private. Maybe if he edges along, he could sneak…

“Marry me.” Steve’s voice hangs in the night, like one of his songs. Poignant. “Marry me, Natasha.”

Nat is quieter than Peter’s ever heard it. It’s quiet, and it cracks in the middle. “Is that Clint’s martinis talking?”

“No. No. This is me talking. Marry me. You know—you know I’d be happy, forever, with what we have now. But I want to. I really, really want to.”

“Steve…” her voice is barely a whisper. Peter’s hand balls into fists. He’s here and yeah, he shouldn’t be, but he’s goddamn invested at this point. “I’ve been told that I can be pretty hard to deal with, sometimes. I’m reluctant to inflict that on somebody forever.”

“For you to inflict your inconstant, confusing, ridiculous self on me forever would be a privilege, Romanoff.”

“You really do have an answer for anything, don’t you? Insufferable asshole.”

“I’m your insufferable asshole.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

At that moment Peter’s leg just…involuntarily spasms. His foot collides with a nearby chair and it shifts across the concrete loudly, his cover completely blown. Shit. There’s no hiding now, so he peeks round the edge of the bar, finding Steve and Natasha stood with their arms around each other.

“Hello,” Peter says sheepishly, pointing towards the door, “I was just—“

“Parker, you’re not going anywhere.” Nat grabs him by his shirt and pulls him up, but there’s no malice on her face. Instead of violently throwing him off the top of this very high building for perving on their proposal, she drops him on one of the sofas. Steve hands him a nearby martini, amused by the whole situation if anything.

“You’re sitting there, and I’m telling you everything you want to know.”

[adacarisi]

ooh could you write a barba fic where the reader has to testify for something and he helps her through it/gets really angry when the defense attacks her?? then angry sex?? smthn like that (:

Another two parter, there is smut in this one though, the next one will also have smut and the courtroom scene. I hope you all enjoy! Thank you for requesting such creative things, they’re a pleasure to write. 

The stand. You’d never liked it. Though you had practiced your testimony with ADA Barba multiple times you still felt nervous. You weren’t sure what exactly was making you so anxious, but you knew part of it was him. His gaze was intense and piercing, his eyes rarely left you as you rehearsed over and over. His posture was confident and sure, his shoulders broad and his chest wide. 

You found yourself daydreaming of what it must be like to run your hand over his suit jacket, to feel the warmth of his body against the skin of your palm. 

“And at anytime during discovery did you leave the scene?” His voice did little to silence your fantasies, rather it made you wonder what words he would speak as you did unspeakable things to him.

“Miss. Y/L/N.” 

You shook yourself to attention when you realized he was addressing you and you were expected to speak back. 

“Sorry…yes…I mean no, no I did not leave the scene.” You spoke, your breathing a little out of wack and rhythm of response a little off. 

“Do you need to take a break?” He asked furrowing his brow in slight confusion and concern.

“No…I’m fine. Thank you.”

Rafael Barba nodded slightly and gave you a flash of a smile before resuming your rehearsal. Back and forth, he asked, you responded. With every question you noticed something new, somehow sexier than your previous discovery. God his hands, you could see his pulse throb through them as he leaned against the stand, pretending to face the jury while he asked you to describe the eyewitness accounts of the assailant. 

You had only been working for SVU for a few weeks. And of course your first major case had been a near catastrophic disaster. Someone (most likely the serial rapist Gregory O’Mally) had lit the records room on fire in the basement of city hall, destroying thousands of files and documents. The fire would have destroyed the incriminating papers and photos you needed to charge Gregory O’Mally but as luck would have it, you had checked out the documents only thirty minutes before the first flames flickered. O’Mally had committed a horrific series of violent rapes, killing two of the victims only after posing them in lewd positions symbolizing the seven deadly sins. 

It was a big case.

Now you were being called to testify for the first time on a case you had worked so intimately. So much was your responsibility, you couldn’t afford to get anything wrong. 

Again and again, he prepped you, and after an hour had passed you wondered if he spent this long prepping all of his witnesses. He had taken off his suit jacket and was striding slowly back and forth between one of the counsel tables and the stand. His pants fit him perfectly, they might have even been on the tight side. You thought you could see a hint of the outline of his briefs and you wondered how tight those were, and what all they contained. 

What was wrong with you? You were a detective in the Special Victims Unit, and yet you were sitting here objectifying and fantasizing about your ADA’s tight ass as it flexed in synch with his pace.  

When he announced that it was over, and you were sufficiently prepped you sighed both in relief that you could leave the stand, and in dissatisfaction that you wouldn’t be able to gaze at him lecherously any longer. You walked to where you had laid your coat on the separation bannister and sighed once more, wondering if you would ever be lucky enough to spend time alone with him again.

“Would you mind answering one more question?” Barba’s voice was suddenly much closer and you turned quickly to see him stood only a few inches away. 

“Oh…no, sure…what is it?” You spoke your voice slightly shaky at his proximity. 

“Do I have something on my pants?” Barba couldn’t hide his slight smirk as it ate it’s way into his face, pushing away the frown lines that often resided there.

“No. I don’t…I don’t think so no.” You gave his pants a flashed glance, so fast your eyelashes never stopped their motion.

Rafael smirked even wider and took a deep inhale through his nose. 

“Coffee?” He spoke, and you were suddenly and inappropriately reminded of Donald Trump’s “covfefe” tweet.

You snickered softly and instantly regretted it when you saw the hurt fill his eyes though no other part of his face let on to the effect of your words.

“Yes! Please. I’m sorry, I just…yes, I’d love that.” You corrected reaching a hand to rest on the Italian wool covered muscle of his forearm, giving it a reassuring squeeze as you spoke.

“Would you mind if we dropped a few things off at my office first?” His smile returned and you lit up at it’s pleasant curves.

“Not at all. Where are we going after?”

“Don’t you trust me Detective?” 

“Seeing as I’ve never seen you without a cup of coffee in your hand, except for today, I definitely trust your taste in coffee. Otherwise I’m not so sure.” You teased as you helped him gather a few of his files as well as his briefcase. 

“Hmmm…we’ll have to change that won’t we. Trust is very important between counsel and their witnesses.” You both pushed open separate doors to exit the courthouse reuniting closely to descend the large white steps. 

The two of you didn’t go far for your caffeine fix, he took you to a little coffee shop tucked away in between some department stores. You told him what kind of coffee you enjoy and he ordered for you both seeing as he knew the menu better than anyone in Manhattan. 

You both sat and sipped at your coffee when it arrived. You were right to trust his taste in coffee, it was delicious. He asked you a few mundane things, and both of you exchanged college experiences, his being surprisingly funny. 

Rafael Barba was still holding back, but he found himself physically leaning into the conversations as he memorized every fact you revealed about yourself. Since you had started at SVU he had been more than a little attracted to you. It had reached a level of dire lust on a few nights and he had found himself rock hard at just the thought of you. He felt like a teenage boy, he wanted you so desperately but he almost didn’t trust himself to pursue you, that was until he caught you staring at his ass today while biting your bottom lip.

Rafael figured he would ask you to dinner after the trial, despite his own fears that you would reject him or that he would be chastised and lose his job. But that seemed too far away as he watched you tell a story using both of your hands to emphasize a point, too far away. He wanted more of this, he wanted to watch your eyes light up with excitement, hear your little giggles and laughs, to see your smile every time he spoke. He loved how attentively you watched him. Your eyes were always on him though there were many distractions. 

Rafael tried harder to make you laugh and he succeeded, nearly making you spit out your coffee. He began another story in which he accidentally brought up his abuelita and he almost began to cry. You noticed the twitches and sniffs and reached a hand across to him, laying your palm on his knuckles softly. You could feel each vein as it pushed against his skin and subconsciously you began tracing them as he continued to speak though his body was frozen. 

He was frozen at your touch, fearful of moving, thinking that if he moved you would move too and he would lose this connection. 

A few minutes later he rotated his hand and you let yours fall into his upturned palm. You spread your fingertips along his palm, lightly dragging your nails on his skin. You didn’t want to think, you just wanted to feel. As he spoke he cleared his throat a few times while you pressed your thumb down in a massage, soothing the sore muscles and ligaments in his massive hand. 

Rafael Barba was in trouble. What you didn’t know was that each motion you made on his palm, each stroke and rub caused his cock to twitch and swell. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop you, it all felt too good. Soon his condition was such that he wouldn’t be able to hide it when he stood and he felt his mind berate him loudly over and over. 

You suggested that the pair of you return to his office to continue to prep, expressing a desire to rehearse a particular portion of the questioning. He agreed and asked you to return the ceramic coffee cups to the counter, pointing to where they could be placed. He briefly mourned the loss of your hand in his, but was struck by more important matters almost instantly. Luckily for him he had worn a lose and long coat today so he would be able to hide his arousal as long as he kept it on and fastened. 

You took his hand as you walked and he smiled with a light blush that you wouldn’t have noticed had you not been so consumed by his every motion. You only dropped your grip outside his office figuring that since whatever this was wasn’t defined by either of you yet, it would be better if neither of you had to explain it to someone else. 

In his office you removed your coat and hung it up, extending a hand towards him so you could hang his as well. He mumbled something about being cold and you gave him a quizzical look as he shuffled towards his desk. Once he was behind it he removed his coat in a very awkward manner that he tried to smooth over by asking you the questions he expected the defense to cross you with. 

You took a seat across from him and answered each with totally honesty and poise. You noticed how he squirmed and coughed, his face reddening as he tried to avoid looking at you. 

“Are you okay?” You asked leaning towards him in concern. 

“Yes.” He answered curtly rolling his eyes slightly, pulling his stomach flush against the wood of his desk.

“Because you look kind of…feverish.” 

“And where did you get your medical degree Dr. Y/L/N?”

“Okay…okay…” You raised your hands in defeat sitting back in your chair as he continued to squirm. 

Just then Carmen his paralegal and secretary walked in with a clipboard full of documents that needed Barba’s signature. He shifted closer to his desk as you made small talk with her, complimenting her dress and ring. She was engaged and had already scheduled a weekend off for her wedding. Carmen left only after telling Barba to leave the clipboard on her desk and that she would send each document out first thing in the morning. It was remarkable how respectful she was while giving him orders. 

As Barba was writing he accidentally scooted the clipboard to far onto his desk and his name plate began to tilt off the edge. You both went for it at the same time, but you became distracted by what you saw when he made a halfway lunge out of his chair. Your eyes were directly across from his crotch, and the strain of his pants was very evident.

“Oh my God.” You gasped at the size of what you saw, taken aback that that’s what this cocky lawyer was packing in his pants. 

He sat back down for a moment, curling his lips into his mouth before standing again. 

“Do you see this? This is your fault. Not mine.” He looked almost frustrated, angry that you had done this to him without any knowledge. 

He rounded the desk and gripped the arms of your chair, leaning in, only inches away from your flushed face. You didn’t move back, instead you too moved forward until your lips almost brushed his. 

“Lock the door.” You whispered in a low tone that made him growl, his cock beginning to throb harder at your words. 

He let his lips brush yours once more before he did as you said, turning around to find you seated on the edge of his desk. 

“Let’s get one thing straight pequeño…I’m in charge.” The way he walked towards you with his brow low and eyes dark was positively predatory, and you loved it.

“And what makes you think that?” You quipped turning your nose up slightly in defiance. 

He grabbed you roughly and pulled you to him, pressing his face into your neck as he bit softly at your skin. 

“Because I said so.” He murmured against your skin, breathing in your delectable scent that made his knees so weak.

“You’re not my father.” You whispered as a light moan escaped your lips when he began to suck at the skin he had bit.

“No…I’m not. But you will call me Daddy tonight.” He growled almost sweetly before sliding his hands down your upper arms until he had both of your hands in his massive vein covered ones. 

“I need you to say yes.” He whispered, as he inched your hands along his stomach, pulling them downward towards his arousal. 

“Yes…Daddy.” As you finished speaking he finally brought your eager hands to his pressing erection.

As you felt him over his pants you cooed softly, wanting to rile him up as much as possible. It worked. He nearly fell backwards as you moved closer, your hands both squeezing his length as you pushed him back against his desk. 

You had him out of his pants in no time, leaving him stood, thighs and ass against his desk as you pulled down his briefs. As you pulled you licked at Rafael through the fabric making him thrust his hips forward. 

Finally he sprung free and Jesus Christ, he was painfully hard. 

“Does this hurt Daddy?” You purred in a faux innocent voice, allowing only your breath to touch him as he continued to swell.

“Si no me tocas ahora voy a morir.” If you don’t touch me now I’m going to die, He almost sobbed, losing all control for a brief moment. 

“Well we can’t have that can we?” You let the words drip from your tongue before placing it on him.

You licked him swiftly root to tip before circling his head with your tongue. His cock was perfect, and just like his hands it was covered in bulging veins. You licked each one, minding their curves and paths as you did so. 

Rafael brought a hand to the top of your head and wove his fingers into your hair, not pushing you, just feeling you. 

You rewarded him by taking his head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it twice before sucking as hard as you could. He slammed both hands on the sides of his desk and made a strangled sound that was akin to a scream. 

He only let you treat him for a few seconds more before pulling himself from you and gesturing for you to hop on his desk. You did so gingerly, mindful of his documents. Rafael lifted your skirt and yanked your panties off in one smooth motion. His fingers made contact with exactly how wet he had made you as he pulled them off and he moaned almost proudly before tossing your legs over each of his shoulders. 

He drank you wildly, with a passion and expertise that you had never known. You threaded your delicate fingers through his wealth of slightly sweaty hair and moaned loudly as he consumed you. 

Rafael could not have been happier with his current position in between your legs. His nose was pressed firmly to your clit and his tongue dove in and out of your entrance tasting every drop of you as he went. 

You were close, so very close, but some part of you knew that if you came, he would too. And you needed him inside you. Now.

He seemed to have the same thought and gave you one final swipe before positioning himself against you. One hand on your neck and the other on your hip he sat you up, and kissed you.

As your lips made their first real contact he pushed inside of you strongly, making you cry into his open mouth. He cried out too, it had been far too long since he had been inside someone, and he had never been inside someone as beautiful as you. As Rafael began to thrust inside of you you trembled, overwhelmed with his size and his hands that held you firmly in place. 

He squeezed on your throat and gave you a particularly deep thrust almost making you jump on the desk. 

“Oh Raf!” You squealed as he pounded harder, making you feel every inch he had to offer.

“Dios mío eres tan hermosa.” He moaned as he kissed you again and again, his tongue massaging yours as he picked up his pace. 

He had to make you come, if it took all that he had, Rafael Barba had been put on this earth to make you come, here and now. 

Suddenly you unraveled, overtaken by the massive shock of your orgasm as it surprised you. You felt it in your fingertips and toes, shaking you from all other thoughts or feelings. You cried out as his grip on your throat shifted to the back of your neck, pulling your writhing body against his even closer, allowing him to drive deeper within you. 

The hand Rafael had on your hip squeezed and flexed possessively a few times before he too came, but not as quietly as you. You had thought you were loud, Rafael was deafening, he wailed, choking and crying as he shot deep within you, his grip tightening into a vise. 

You rested on his shoulder, totally limp, and he fell forward onto yours, his legs shaking and threatening to give out. 

One of the saddest moments of your life was when Rafael Barba pulled out of you, a few drops of you both falling onto the carpet below. You whimpered and he apologized with a few kisses before pulling you off of his desk and into his arms. He pulled up on you and you wrapped yourself around him as he hoisted you up, carrying you to the leather couch across the room. He laid you out and you reached for him with a little hum. 

Rafael was in disbelief that what had just taken place really happened, after all you were…you. And he was just…Rafael. 

He laid down with you after gathering and re-donning his briefs and pants from where he had kicked them off. He settled behind you, holding you securely in his arms, his spine against the back of the couch. You hummed softly and he stroked at your hair as you fell asleep. He let you nap, still in awe that you were in his arms. His mind berated him with reprimands and citations of why this would fall apart, why he didn’t deserve you, but he shut them up for the first time in his life. Simply for the sake and privilege of hearing you breathe as you shifted closer to him, lightly gripping his forearms that linked tightly around your chest as you slept. 

[celestescamander]

Of Breakfast and Bridesmaids

Celeste Scamander Wedding Week - Day 2 

Wedding Week: Day Two

Celeste groaned rolling over burying her head into the pillow, the ringing noise, “Make it stop,” she slurred cuddling into the pillow, a content sigh escaping her lips, so warm. She felt the throughs of sleep pulling her back into her slumber, she was safe in her apartment in NYC which was surprisingly quiet, no early morning honking of the horns, strange, there was no Alexis crying either, stranger, Her brows furrowed, maybe she should get up and check. Trying to sit up Celeste fell back against the bed, ‘Go back to sleep,” a deep voice told her, she smiled the voice sound surprisingly like Caleb, she really was gone for him, imagining his voice telling her to sleep. She hummed maybe dream Caleb was onto something.

She didn’t know how long had passed since dream Caleb had told her to go back to sleep but as the sleep slowly decided to recede. She was put off by the peace, there was no off the busy hustle and bustle of New York, in fact, she could hear the birds chirping. She sat up suddenly rubbing at her eyes as she opened them frantically taking in what was definitely not her room. Reality set in as she remembered she was in Portugal. With a yawn, she threw her legs over the side of the bed taking in the stunning view of the valley that surrounded them.

“Oh you are awake,” she turned to see Caleb standing there in nothing but a towel that hung around her hips. “Did i wake you?” he asked with a frown. Celeste opened her mouth but quickly shut it, there were no words coming out of her mouth just like there were no thoughts going through her head. He had thrown her with his near-naked appearance. “Was it the phone or my singing?” he continued on as if Celeste wasn’t having a breakdown.

“Your singing?” she asked choosing to focus on what she could remember. “What?”

“In the shower?” Caleb offered before frowning. “Celeste are you feeling okay?” he asked. “You are a bit red,” he said concern clear in his voice. He leaned down placing a hand on her forehead. “You are a little warm,” he frowned. “You go back to bed, I’ll call Fiona and tell her you can’t make it,” he said.

“No,” Celeste said quickly, “You don’t need to do that, I am fine really,” she said looking anywhere but at him which was proving to extremely difficult. “I uh just - you are only in a towel,” she said muttered, her face flushing as she peaked a look up at him. Caleb took a step backwards-looking down at his body before muttering an oh.

“I am sorry, i was just surprised,” Celeste muttered feeling like a complete idiot. Damn hormones.

“Right i just -” he said. “Give me a minute,” he said walking back into the direction of the ensuite. Celeste groaned falling back on the bed with a thud grabbing a nearby and smothering herself with it. So much for not making this awkward, she couldn’t even make a day without ruining things.

“You know normally when women see me half naked they don’t try and smother themselves to death,” she heard Caleb say. She moved the pillow slightly looking up to see Caleb, now at least wearing a robe, looking at her with an amused smile on his face. Celeste’s eyes narrowed, glad someone was enjoying her embarrassment. “Do i look that bad?”

“Yes, you’ve blinded me,” Celeste scowled tossing the pillow at him. Of course he caught it before it could do any damage. Stupid attractive people with good reflexes. “Could you not let me wallow in my sorrows in peace?” she pouted as he came to sit on the bed.

“My ego is really taking a hit here,” Caleb laughed laying back on the bed.

“Please your ego probably grew another head,” she huffed. “Can we just pretend i didn’t just act like an idiot because you weren’t wearing a shirt,” she said looking at Caleb had a smirk on his face clearly pleased with himself.

“Not wearing a shirt or anything else,” he added.

“Thanks for that information,” Celeste said nose scrunching up. “Anyway away from your forgetting there was someone else in the room - “

“Are you hungry?” He asked, it wasn’t the smoothest segway but Celeste appreciated it now the less, “Let’s order breakfast,” he continued reaching over to the tablet the hotel had given them. “Hmm what would you like? A big breakfast? A fruit platter? Cereal? Toast?” he offered as he scrolled down.

“No big breakfast,” Celeste said shaking her head. “I am going to be trying on my bridesmaid dress,” she said. If the rest of Fiona’s bridesmaid were as pretty as she was she didn’t need a food baby in her stomach. Caleb snorted, shaking his head. “Do you want anything to drink, you seemed a little thirsty earlier,” he said, a sly grin on his face.

“Stop!” Celeste whined flopping back on the bed. “I come here and do you a massive favour and you are been mean and teasing me,” she huffed poking his side. “You owe me, Caleb Park, don’t forget it,” she said seriously.

“Oh i won’t,” Caleb nodded. “And i am not teasing you, if i was i would point out how adorable you were cuddling into me,” he grinned. “I even took a photo because it was soooo cute,” he cooed. Celeste turned to face him, eyes narrowed, he grinned at her cocking an eyebrow up at her. Her eyes moved from to the bedside table without hesitation she lunged for it as did Caleb who got it before she had a chance.

“Did you really take a photo of me?” Celeste asked. Caleb didn’t answer her verbally instead held his phone up showing her his wallpaper which was indeed a picture of a sleeping Celeste. He even dared to smirk at her placing his hands behind his head as he layed back on the bed.

“Delete it,” Celeste growled.

“Nope,” Caleb said popping the P. ‘My girlfriend is so cute,” he grinned.

“You have 3 seconds to give me the phone,” Celeste said sucking in a breath as she tried to keep calm.

“Anyway, so Coffee? Juice? Water?” Caleb asked ignoring Celeste’s threat. “Got make sure you are hy-ooph,” he started before Celeste climbed on him trying to grab the phone. Caleb whistled moving the phone to his other hand in time, his long arms coming in handy once again.

“A delayed response at seeing my freshly showered huh? “ Caleb laughed. “Couldn’t help yourself, i get it,” he teased making sure the phone was out of her reach.

“Give me the phone Park,” Celeste said through gritted teeth.

“Make me Scamander,” he said in a sing-song voice.

“Are you awake? I tried calling - oh,”

Celeste and Caleb quickly pulled apart, Celeste jumping off the bed turning to say Fiona covering her mouth trying to stop herself from laughing.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Celeste said quickly.

“Celeste we are all adults here,” Fiona laughed. “I question your taste in men constantly but I am not judging you for wanting to have a good morning,” she smirked. “But if you could make it quick that would be great, we are meant to be having brunch with the girls in half an hour,” she said. “I did try calling him,” she nodded towards Caleb who was glaring at his sister.

“Uh right sorry, I’ll be down soon” she muttered her face flushing as Fiona giggled.

“Have fun,” she said with a wink before turning back around and exiting.

“That was awkward,” Celeste said.

“She has a keycard to our room that little -” Caleb said ignoring her. “Just because it’s her wedding week doesn’t mean she can just storm into our room,” he huffed.

“Right,” Celeste said shaking her head. “While you fume, i am going to get ready. That photo better be deleted by the time i am done,” she huffed.

“Never gonna happen Scamander.”

  ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“I thought it was a dress fitting,” Caleb said raising an eyebrow as he spotted Celeste, they had agreed to meet up after the dress fitting for brunch, even though it was late into the afternoon now. “Why do you look like you’ve been playing quidditch for hours?” he laughed as Celeste fell into the chair across from him. Celeste looked at him eyes narrowing as he let out a laugh. “How about we order first, maybe some food will help,” he suggested.

“No more food,” Celeste whined. ‘Your mother apparently takes breakfast very seriously,” she said. “Also apparently i can call her Jia now,” she said. “So i guess that’s a win,” she said grabbing the jug of ice water and pouring herself a glass.

“Really Jia? Not mum?” he asked raising an eyebrow. “Maybe she doesn’t approve of you after all,” he said stroking his chin as he thought about it. Celeste’s eyes bulged as she put down her glass thankful she didn’t get the chance to drink from it otherwise Caleb would be covered in water.

“What?” Celeste said with a frown. “Why? Wait are you joking?” she asked more hopeful than a fake girlfriend should be.

“No,” He said seriously. “Did you do something wrong?” he asked as he picked up the menu, eyes flickering down to it. Celeste stared at him incredulously her frustration with the entire Park family simmering up to the surface. Caleb yelped, “Did you just kick me?” he asked rubbing at his leg. Celeste smiled sweetly at him as he shook his head, a soft smile on his face. “Okay, okay i get it you didn’t do anything wrong, can you think of anything that happened at the dress fitting because last time i saw her she had our entire lives planned out together,” he said.

“Well -” She started eyes narrowing at him. Stopping when a waitress came over to take their order. Caleb of course ordered in perfect Portuguese.

“I got you a coffee and a piece of their cake of the day,” He said. “Before you say anything if you don’t eat it i will,” he said quickly. “Now let’s get back to why you were glaring at me,” he said looking far more amused than he should be.

“Well it all starts with you not deleting the photo when asked,” Celeste said shaking her head.

★━━━━━━━━━━━━★’

Celeste prayed that she wouldn’t be the last person to arrive at the conference room. She hated been the centre of attention, in fact, she preferred to stand to the side and watch the centre of attention make a fool of themselves. The second she stepped into the conference room, she was shocked to see just how much it had been transformed. It had basically been turned into a wedding boutique, several racks of clothing, from the brand names she saw on the bag, it was all designer, plush lounge chairs were strategically placed around large glass mirrors, to one side stood several change rooms.

“Miss,” A waiter offered her a flute of champagne. Celeste shook her head muttering a no thank you as in almost an instant 7 pairs of eyes were on her.

“Celeste honey,” Caleb’s mother jumped up to greet and pulling her into a hug. “Did you sleep okay? I was so worried about you and Cal having jet lag,” she said shaking her head.

“Well according to Fi they had a great night sleep, infact apparently that is the reason Celeste is a little late, so I am sure Celeste is very rested mother,” Rose laughed winking at Celeste as she sat down on one of the lounge chairs.

★━━━━━━━━━━━━★

“Oh my god is that why your mum doesn’t like me now? “ Celeste eyes widening as she took a sip from her coffee. “She thinks i am sort of nympho who is taking advantage of her son,’ she whined. “See if you just deleted the picture like i asked this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Well, i mean can they blame you?” Caleb grinned at her. “And i am not deleting it, it’s a cute picture, look so cute,” he said holding his phone up and pointing to the lock screen. “Couples have each other as their lock screens so don’t worry,” he said happily.

“Do they though?” Celeste said raising an eyebrow. “Who even cares about lock screens anyway?” she asked.

“Please tell me you don’t have the factory wallpaper,” He asked, Celeste, looked down sheepishly. “Seriously,” he laughed. “Well you need to change it,” Caleb pointed out. “Personally i think it should be to a photo of me, you know since i am so handsome you can’t control yourself,” he said wiggling his eyebrows. “Ow did you kick me again?” he asked.

“I’ve been teased enough today thank you very much,” Celeste growled. “I should send you back home away from New York like your mum wants,” she said.

★━━━━━━━━━━━━★

Celeste smiled weakly her face heating up as she wondered which Park sibling was number one on her hitlist. Caleb was still the top but Rosalind and Fiona were neck and neck. “Ah i slept well Mrs Park,” Celeste said. “And I’ve lived in New York for the last 6 years sleep is not a necessity,” she added with a laugh.

“Mrs Park? Oh sweetie you can call Jia,” she said with a smile. “And yes New York is certainly something,” she continued, her nose scrunching up. “Are you and Caleb planning on staying in New York after you get married?” she asked.

“Aunty, they need to be engaged to even think about changing their entire lives,” Celeste was saved by answering when Spencer walked into the room instantly coming over to Celeste and pulling her into a hug. “Plus New York is really not that bad,” she said.

“And we should be focusing on the child that is actually getting married Ma,” Fiona teased. “Who needs to introduce you,” she said pointing to Celeste. “To the other bridesmaids,” she said pushing her towards the other women.

★━━━━━━━━━━━━★

”Oh so what did you think of Fiona’s bridesmaids?” Caleb asked. “They weren’t rude to you were they?” Caleb asked concern etched on his face.

“They seemed nice, all very pretty, I think i am bringing down the visual aver - did you just throw a pack of salt at me?” Celeste laughed picking up the offending packet of salt, looking at curiously as Caleb nodded proudly.

“If you keep talking that nonsense the whole condiment tray is coming your way,” he warned.

★━━━━━━━━━━━━★

“Ladies i would like you to meet our fifth and final bridesmaid Celeste, Celeste this is my childhood friend Hyeji,” she said pointing to a beautiful girl with long dark hair, wide eyes and a pretty smile, Hyeji to her.

“My close friend and business partner Nina,” she said pointing to another beautiful girl who was currently chatting Evelyn’s ear off. She was slightly curvier than the others but once again extremely pretty. Celeste’s nose scrunched her nose up so everyone in the Park sibling’s friendship had to be pretty.

“And my future sister in law Calliope,” she said gesturing to the last woman well girl, who was sitting next to Rose on a lounge chair, she was younger than the rest, pretty of course, but her eyes were focused on her phone, barely glancing up to look at Celeste.

“And you already know Rosie Posie,” she said tilting her head over to her sister who looked less than impressed with that nickname in fact the glare she was sending Fiona was downright deadly. “Ah i am so excited to show you your bridesmaid dress,” she grinned.

★━━━━━━━━━━━━★

"Rosie Posie?” Caleb repeated. “I gotta use that myself one day,” he grinned.

“I thought you were a bad older brother but i get the feeling you are an even worse younger brother,” Celeste said with a laugh. “Bet you annoyed Rose so much,” she said as Caleb grinned.

“You should ask about her first boyfriend,” Caleb said. “Fun times,” he chuckled. “Anyway away from you judging me for being an amazing brother, what was the dress like? Was it ugly? I mean Fiona picked it so of course, it is,” he hummed. “But i am sure you made it look pretty,” he said sweetly.

“It was nice, she has good taste,” Celeste said. “I am just glad it fit,” she laughed. “Made all the teasing worth it,” she said shaking her head. “Also has your mum always taken breakfast so seriously?”

“I told you to have breakfast before, it’s the most important meal of the day,” Caleb said nodding.

★━━━━━━━━━━━━★

“I am excited to see it,” Celeste smiled, she was interested to see what Fiona had picked out. “But all these racks can’t be the bridesmaid dresses right?”

Fiona giggled, shaking her head. “Nope, most of those racks are my gifts for you girls, well minus Spencer she is only here because she insists that she is your favourite Park and i want her to watch as i replace her as number one,” Fiona grinned.

“Shouldn’t Caleb be my number one?” Celeste laughed.

“Ew no just because you are fuc- “ Fiona started to speak before her mother’s hand covered her mouth.

“Fiona why don’t you go get the dresses ready,” The mother ordered, Celeste looked down wincing that was a mum tone if she ever heard one. Fiona rolled her eyes but nodded telling Celeste to be prepared as she walked over to the racks. “I am sorry about that,” Caleb’s mother Jia sighed. “I swear she isn’t usually this invested in other peoples -” she trailed off coughing awkwardly. “Anyway come sit, have you had any breakfast?” she said as she ushered Celeste over to a lounge chair.

“Ah not really,” she said scratching the back of her head. “I figured since I was trying on the bridesmaid dress,” she said sheepishly as Jia let out a strangled noise. Celeste’s eyes widened wondering if she said something wrong. “Sorry?”

“Celeste,” Jia said rubbing between her eyes, “I will say this as kind as I can, please stop talking such nonsense,” she said shaking her head. “Look at you, already on the thinner side and worrying about eating,” she said shaking her head. “Is that what being surrounded by all those celebrities does to you?” she huffed. “No no this won’t do,” she said standing up and heading over to the spread of food.

“I-“ Celeste tried to get up but was stopped by Rosalind who just shook her head.

“Celeste just let her, it’s not like you can stop her but it’s better you don’t try to,” Rose said with a laugh.

“Plus she is right,” One of Fiona’s friends spoke, Nina, said. “You don’t need to be skipping breakfast,” she said. Celeste smiled weakly sure that was meant to be a supportive comment but really it just made her feel uncomfortable.

“Ah that isn’t it Nina,” Rosalind said bringing her flute of champagne to her lips. “Did Fiona not tell you? Celeste was a little busy this morning,” she said giggling. Nina raised an eyebrow looking over at Celeste a sly smile making its way onto her face.

“Oh I see,” she laughed.

“Yeah, Celeste had her fill off sausage this morning” Spencer commented coming over with a plate of food as Celeste wished the couch would swallow her whole, what was with this family and sharing details of her non-existent sex life. Did they think Caleb was a virgin or something? Surely not.

“Can’t blame her,” Nina commented nodding. “If I had a hot boyfriend with me I’d rather be staying in bed all day as well,” she said with a grin.

“Yeah I get it as well but Celeste has Caleb,” Rosalind laughed.

“Who is a very attractive man,” Nina pointed out.

“You only say that because you didn’t see him when he was a kid,” Hyeji commented with a giggle. “His ears were huge back then.”

“I wonder what else is huge,” Nina winked at Celeste.

★━━━━━━━━━━━━★

“Nina is now my favourite friend of Fiona’s” Caleb smirked. “And that little turncoat Hyeji, my ears have always been normal-sized,” he huffed. Celeste giggled shaking her head. “That is all you took from that?”

“No, my mum is right you shouldn't be talking such nonsense and I am your favourite Park,” he grinned fluttering his eyelashes at her. “I am flattered,” he chuckled.

“Right now your father is my favourite Park,” Celeste huffed in annoyance. “Maybe you should delete the photo and you can become my favourite Park again,” she said with a shrug as a Pepper pack hit her nose. “Seriously,” she laughed. “Fine i suppose you can be my favourite again,” she laughed. “But i have competition now, Miss Calliope is quite a fan,” she laughed.

“Is she?” Caleb asked surprised.

★━━━━━━━━━━━━★

“He is okay,” Calliope said causing all of their heads to turn to her. Celeste bristled she wasn’t going to let Caleb get ragged on by a teenager who probably thought peak attractiveness was some tiktoker with greasy hair. “Attractive enough,” she shrugged. “Well his characters are at least but can we stop talking about old people banging and focus on what is important here,’ she snapped. “Your last name is Scamander right?” she asked.

Celeste nodded preparing herself for all the questions that would come next. “So you went to Hogwarts right?” s,he asked, Celeste’s brows furrowed together as she nodded unsure where this was going. “So you read Gossip Witch right? Do you think Minah is making a mistake by taking Sungjae back?’ she asked.

“I uhm,” Celeste laughed awkwardly. “I am a little old for Gossip Witch you know,”

“What? So you didn’t get that latest post about Daniel?’ she asked innocently. “I was going to ask if you saw him in New York,’ she pouted. “He is so hot, did you watch his latest show, I totally shipped him with –“ she started.

“What did he do?” Celeste interrupted. “He told me he was taking a month off for personal reasons,” she said, huffing annoyance. Stupid Daniel.

“Wait why would he tell you that?’ Calliope asked, raising an eyebrow curiously. “Are you friends?” she asked clapping in excitement. “Merlin, my friends would totally lose it if I told them I knew Daniel Choi’s friend, like Avery says her dad works in the ministry with Emily Choi but like that is just his cousin,” she said rolling her eyes. “Practically a nobody,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, Celeste raised an eyebrow if Daniel heard that he would be going off about how Emily Choi is the most important precious person in the world.

“Right you tell me what he has supposedly done and I’ll tell you how I know him,” Celeste offered.

“What is even happening?” Spencer laughed looking between Calliope and Celeste..

“Is he really rehabbing in London?” Calliope asked tilting her head to the side. “I know the break up was tough on him,” she said looking devastated, Celeste snorted at the thought apparently this person was more upset about Daniel's breakup than Daniel was.. “Can you let him know that everyone is on his side?”

“What no? Daniel isn’t in rehab,’ Celeste snapped. “He is just going to London because he wants to,” Celeste said. ‘And trust me he is fine.”

“And why should I trust that?”

“Because Celeste is –“

“Dating one of his oldest friends,” Celeste cut in. She didn’t need this girl knowing that Celeste worked with Daniel. “Caleb and Daniel have known each other for years,” she said. “Here look,” she said, going through her phone finding a picture Daniel had sent her saying Caleb was his friend first.

“Wait seriously?” the girl said, grabbing her phone. “You have Daniel’s number,” she said in awe. “And if Caleb is best friends with him that means Fiona knows him which means I am going to be indirectly related to Daniel Choi,” she squealed, tossing Celeste’s phone back at her.

“Hey if you are all ready to –“ Fiona said coming over with four garment bags.

“Oh Fifi, you shouldn’t be holding all those bags,” Calliope said leaping up to help Fiona who was mouthing the words Fifi her face getting more disgusted at each syllable. “Hey you two help my sister out,” she said to Nina and Hyeji who were too stunned to even respond. “Rosalind, Unnie,” Calliope said, for some reason that didn’t sound very respectful, “Could you please get Fiona another glass of champagne,” she said.

“What? Why?”

“Because her glass is empty duh,” Calliope said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And obviously I can’t go get it I am 16 and Celeste must be exhausted,” she pointed out.

“Oh I can go get it, I am pretty sure if you just wave them –“ Celeste said standing up.

“No no,” Calliope said with a roll of her eyes. “You rest, I am sure Caleb wore you out, such a youthful man that one is,’ she said at the moment Celeste figured that life really was a simulation, there was no way a 16-year-old was saying this. “Very handsome as well, but I am not interested,” she said quickly, “I am just saying he is handsome and not old at all,” she said quickly.

“Calliope, are you being rude to Fiona again?” Evelyn came over looking at her daughter curiously. “We’ve talked about this before,” she said.

“What are you talking about mother,” Calliope said with a bout of fake laughter. “I’ve never been rude to Fiona,” she said. “Infact, I think you haven’t accepted her enough which is why we should have a family dinner tonight,” she said. “Just our family and The Parks,’ she said nodding.

“What a wonderful idea,” Jia said, making her return, a plate full of food in tow. “Ah Calliope you are such a lovely young woman,” she said to the girl who just beamed up at her.

“Oh my god,” Fiona said under her breath. “Can they just please try on their dresses, I need to know if the dressmakers need to make any changes, especially on Celeste’s dress because she hasn’t actually tried it on,” she said with a sigh.

“I’ll go try it on now,” Celeste said, getting up noticing the look Jia was sending her. “And then I will eat,” she said racing forward and taking the bag off Fiona. Happy to get out of there.

★━━━━━━━━━━━━★

“You sicked Calliope on me?” Caleb asked, mortified by the idea. “How could you be so cruel to me?”

“I got you a new fan, you should be thankful, you left spellbound and i am still helping you,” Celeste said with a smirk. “You’re welcome Cal,” she said with a grin.

“How kind of you,” he said sarcastically. “Now i am never deleting that picture,” he said eyes narrowing. “Infact i think i should post it on my instagram so my new fans can see how pretty my girlfriend is,” he grinned. Celeste winced reaching down to rub her foot. “Missed me,” he grinned.

[terryblount]

Massive new 7GB update released for Tom Clancy’s Ghost Recon Breakpoint, full patch notes revealed

Ubisoft has released a massive new 7GB update for Tom Clancy’s Ghost Recon Breakpoint. This patch will update your game’s version to 1.0.3 and aims to address some of the most pressing issues that the game’s community has reported.

Going into more details, update 1.0.3 makes improvements to the issue where scopes would flicker when players ADS. Furthermore, it now allows players to do a camera shoulder swap while in cover. It also makes a number of adjustments to player’s stamina.

This patch also features some PC-specific tweaks and fixes. For instance, it improves controls on PC to prevent conflicts when the same key was assigned to several functions. It also improves the Side Missions scroll bar to make it easier to scroll when using mouse and keyboard.

As always, UPLAY and Epic Games Store will download this patch the next time you launch their clients. Below you can also find its HUGE changelog (so prepare yourselves for a wall of text).

Tom Clancy’s Ghost Recon Breakpoint Update 1.0.3 Release Notes

AI

Improved AI behavior of Carl’s driving path in the A Great Escape mission.

Fixed an issue where the turrets did not follow the players.

Fixed an issue where the turret cannons did not turn with the player’s camera.

Fixed an issue where turrets sometimes became unusable by players after being hacked.

Fixed an issue where enemies would sometimes break cover before reacting to the players.

Fixed an issue where enemies would sometime stop aiming directly at the players if they broke visual contact.

Fixed AI navigation path for a enemies in Fen Bog Testing Zone.

Fixed an issue with NPC behavior when exiting a vehicle they were stowed in if the players shot the vehicle.

Fixed an issue where sometimes the enemies in helicopters would not detect the players.

Fixed an issue where the Taipan air patrol crew would survive a crash.

Fixed an issue when convoy escort enemies would stop firing at players if they got behind them.

Fixed an issue where enemies would not spread an alert after players’ host migration.

Fixed an issue where Wolves could detect and shoot players through Submarine Bay at the entrance of Shark Bay.

Fixed an issue where the NPCs remained stuck after being freed during a mission.

Fixed an issue where enemy patrols would get stuck at a specific location on Skell foundation campus.

Fixed an issue where NPC remained stuck in vehicle instead of exiting.

Fixed an issue where drone and enemies blocked each other and remained stuck.

Fixed an issue where Hunter drone spawned at inconsistent distances.

ANIMATION

Fixed an animation bug where the character sometimes used the adaptive aim animation with no reason (not near a wall or an obstacle).

Fixed Wolves coat texture near second crash site.

Fixed character animation when trying to go under a small waterfall.

Added spasm animation when an ally is being revived by medic’s drone.

Added a delay to player detection during the healing animation when using the revive drone.

Fixed animation replication bug when teammates were killed while carrying body.

AUDIO

Fixed audio issue where Fury figure sometimes had male voices during interrogation scenes.

Fixed an issue where players couldn’t hear outdoor sounds from inside the building in Auroa Data Farm camp.

Fixed surrounding sounds issue at the Battery Farm underground settlement.

Fixed an issue where the data transfer sound kept playing when players were interrupted during a hack.

Fixed an audio issue in Skell’s Villa where players could hear the rain while indoors.

Fixed an audio issue where firing or explosion sounds could not be heard if players were in different environments (indoor/ outdoor).

Fixed an issue where the Medic Skill sounds were not always present.

BIVOUAC

Fixed an issue where sometimes players would be standing if joined when deploying the bivouac.

Fixed an issue where players would sometimes get an infinite loading screen when entering a player-card from the Bivouac menu.

Fixed an issue where bivouac behavior would be corrupted if a teammate logged out when the player was deploying the bivouac.

Fixed an issue where the character’s backpack would sometimes be invisible in the bivouac.

Fixed an issue where players could sometimes get stuck or get KIA when breaking camp from bivouac.

Fixed an issue where the camera transition did not work properly if a player was in the Tacmap menu while breaking camp from bivouac.

CAMERA

Fixed an issue where the camera could pass through the Tavor Assault weapon.

Fixed camera stability issue when players stopped to turn while in ADS.

CHAT

Fixed an issue that caused chat input box to reset during game flow transitions.

GAMEPLAY

Fixed a bug that caused some players to respawn under the map.

Fixed vehicle emergency exit animation while in water.

Fixed an issue that caused players to remain stuck if they were pulled into a cinematic in co-op while investigating an intel.

Fixed an issue where visual feedback was not always triggered when the players fell and received damage.

Fixed an issue when players landed a helicopter on top of another.

Fixed an issue where players could go through obstacles if spamming the climb button during animation or revive.

Fixed a graphical issue that occurred when players deployed a drone and then quickly ADS.

Revised priorities so that the game now prioritizes mission interaction over vehicle interaction to prevent blocking players in some circumstances during missions.

Frag grenades now deal more damage to vehicles.

Fixed an issue where in a four-player co-op session, players were able to launch additional sync shot drones after the host of the session left.

Fixed an issue that caused the drone to stop deploying on some occasions.

Fixed an issue where some players could not reach rank 10 Field Medic.

Fixed an issue that sometimes allowed players to go through Biometric doors while in prone.

Fixed an issue where MK.2 explosives and Intel Grenades were not available to buy in Maria’s shop after unlocking them.

Fixed an issue where changing fire rate while ADS deployed the drone.

Players can now cancel the go-to animation before entering a vehicle by moving away from the vehicle.

COVER SYSTEM

You can now do a camera shoulder swap at cover! It will also rotate the main player on the spot.

Lean aiming is now available from a wider distance and the avatar is less likely to be seen.

Looking over and peeking off a cover is now easier to do when holding the movement input towards the cover.

Increased the angle to preserve the orientation of the avatar when stopping to aim over a cover up to 45°, so the camera stays more often on its initial side.

LOOT

Fixed a bug where ammunition was not received after being picked up.

MENU

Fixed a notification bug where the mission name would not be displayed if a teammate replayed a mission that is locked for the player.

MISSIONS

Fixed a bug that caused the programmers to instantly die when in contact with the car regardless of its speed in the A Great Escape mission.

Fixed a bug where players would have their weapon misplaced when entering Puri’s office in the Meet Puri mission.

Fixed an issue in the Rosebud mission where the mission did not consult if the player skipped the investigation step.

Fixed an issue in the An Ingenuous Genius mission where all players spawned in Daigoroh’s cell if they get KIA after the extraction.

Fixed an issue during the onboarding mission where players could not talk to Holt in Erewhon if they had not checked the third helicopter crash.

Fixed an issue in the Guardian Angel mission where Cromwell sometimes did not go to her computer to trigger the mission’s next step.

Fixed an issue in the The Siren’s Call mission where players respawned inside the cave after being KIA, without validating the step.

Fixed an issue in the The Great Escape mission where Carl did not drive to the vehicle if it was too far from its spawn point.

Fixed an issue in coop that could block the mission flow for all players if two players joined at the same time.

Fixed an issue in the The Great Escape mission where the player would respawn inside the prison after getting KIA.

NVG

Fixed an issue where L3GP night vision goggles blocked the weapon reticle.

Realigned the angle of the panoramic night vision goggles to align better with the character’s eyes.

ONLINE

Fixed an issue where sometimes players could not join a session using the in-game lobby if they stayed idle for too long.

Fixed an issue where players would get an Infitinity-00002 error after a failed host migration.

Fixed an issue where players would remain in infinite loading when leaving a group in PvE after playing PvP.

PC

Fixed an issue that made the Windows key not functional in menus and during gameplay.

Improved controls on PC to prevent conflicts when the same key was assigned to several functions.

Fixed a crash occurring when trying to access the options menu after changing graphics preset.

Improved the Side Missions scroll bar to make it easier to scroll when using mouse and keyboard.

Fixed an issue preventing the “Win + Shift + Arrow” shortcut from switching displays in full screen.

PHOTOMODE

Fixed an issue in photomode where no visible change occurred when setting grain parameter to values higher than 16.

Fixed visual issues in photomode when camera is under water.

There is now a message in-game informing players they cannot use photomode when drone is deployed.

Fixed an issue in photomode where sometimes the camera would go under the map.

GHOST WAR

Balancing

Sniper weapons no longer one-shot while using the Rolling Thunder perk.

Sniper weapon damages have been slightly reduced to bring them into line with other sniper rifles (Weapons Affected: HTI, L115A3, M82, SRA1, TAC50, Victrix).

Drone health has been reduced, making it less likely to need more than one mag to destroy.

Connectivity

Fixed several causes of the Infinity error.

Gameplay

Hit damage indicator accuracy improved when taking shots from the front – the hit damage indicator feedback is orientated in a top-down fashion rather than from player’s perspective.

Shooting downed enemies will no longer trigger hit confirmations – which should improve feedback on whether the enemy is down or not.

Gas drone damage now interrupts a player using a drone.

Improved audio feedback of the Gas Grenade.

Added a cooldown to the Ping system to avoid spam.

Maps

Tech Port: We’ve added new objects to prevent the accidental falling off stairs while running up / down them.

We’ve made some general fixes to the maps.

Matchmaking

Players will no longer join matches in progress, regardless of the round number.

Improvements implemented to the balancing of teams after matchmaking completes.

Milestones

Players can now pin more than 1 milestone for tracking.

Replication

General improvements to player replication.

Stats

Fixes implemented to Ghost War stat tracking.

The Total Skell Credits gained stat now includes credits earned in Ghost War as well.

Ghost War stats are now display correctly in the Loadout menus.

Custom Matches

Fixed missing cursor on setting up match screen.

Fixed an issue that was blocking players from joining a custom match.

SAVE

Fixed a bug where players spawned in Erewhon after creating a new save on a slot that previously had progress.

Fixed a rare issue where sometimes Ghost Coins did not appear in the inventory after purchase.

CHARACTER

Fixed a bug where players could get stuck after using their ability or frags while Panther Class is equipped.

Fixed an issue where players would no longer have the items wheel available after an emergency exit from a vehicle in water.

STAMINA

Increased the base stamina by 66%.

Increased stamina re-gen speed by 75%.

Reduced the stamina consumed when sliding by 50%.

UI

Fixed an issue where the mini-map would not update when players are detected by SAM launchers.

The mute icon is now more visible in the menus on player avatars.

Fixed an issue where sometimes the second perk slot would not unlock after being acquired in the skill tree.

Fixed an issue in co-op where one player in the team would get a permanent notification on screen to go back to Madera after being KIA during the One Last Thing mission.

Fixed an issue where Markers Size Alert values in the options menu did not trigger any change.

Fixed an issue where the Beacon and Ping shortcuts where not displayed in the Control Helpers for the Medic Drone.

Removed hardcoded text from several places in the menus.

Fixed an issue that could lead to unintended transactions if players move the cursor during the Hold Action Buy or Sell prompt in Maria’s shop.

Fixed the NK3 Ritual CQC weapon name in menus (formerly called NK3 K Black | Ancient).

Fixed an issue where sometimes there would be gaps between the tab icons after opening the loadout menu.

Fixed an issue where store notifications would sometimes have unknown characters after changing the game language to a language with a different alphabet.

Fixed several instances of incorrect unlock requirement or descriptions for items.

Fixed an issue where the Objective Board would sometimes remain locked if players left the game during the Onboarding mission.

Fixed an issue where the input to consult intel was displayed as “press” instead of “hold”.

Fixed missing text on most location discovery pop-ups.

The camos earned in Battle Crates now indicate whether they are for gear or weapons.

Fixed an issue where the Vision Mode ability on drone appeared as an option on the drone HUD before the ability was unlocked.

Fixed an issue that prevented players from using the tutorial shortcut while driving.

Fixed an issue that prevented the notification to let players know when the public matchmaking was canceled due to host migration.

Fixed several typos.

Fixed an issue where the Mission Completion tutorial pop-up would display after every loading screen.

VEHICLES

Fixed an issue where some convoys would spawn vertically into the ground.

Fixed an issue where helicopters spawned from Erewhon would sometimes be damaged.

VISUAL

Fixed an issue where thermal vision in binoculars was not working properly at night.

Fixed an issue that prevented the replication of the rocket trail, missile, and explosion visual effects.

Fixed an issue where textures would sometimes not load properly in the Sentinel Corp Naval Base.

Fixed an issue where the chests would sometimes flicker in co-op if several players opened them at the same time.

Fixed an issue where helicopters sometimes would not disappear properly from the sight of players when moving away from them.

WEAPONS

Fixed an issue where the MAWL-DA rail was overlapping with the built-in ironsight of the A2 ASR.

Fixed an issue that allowed the P227 to penetrate heavy helmets and one-shot enemies.

Fixed an issue with shotguns that often caused only a one-shot pellet instead of several.

Fixed an issue that prevented the Zasatava’s unique ability to work properly. It can now pierce helmets as designed.

Improvements made to the issue where scopes would flicker when players ADS.

Flashbang can now blind through vegetation (such as low bush).

WORLD

Fixed a bug where players could get stuck behind Maria’s shop in Erewhon.

Removed floating objects in Auroa Data Farm.

Fixed an issue that prevented players from accessing the Skell’s Last Log collectible.

Removed a hole in the map near White Ridge Bivouac in Mount Hodgson.

Removed a prop structure that was floating in the middle of the ocean.

Fixed an issue where the water animation did not trigger when a helicopter hovered over the water.

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[theessaflett]

Meredith: An Queer Faerie Story

Fairy tales.

What are they? What are they about? Who’s story do they tell?

There’s a comforting reliability to these old childhood stories, a knowledge that we already understand how these sorts of things usually go.

Once, in a far off land, there was a girl. Once, in a far off land, there was a boy. They loved each other very much, and were betrothed to marry in the spring. The boy was a farmer, the girl spun at the spinning wheel in her family’s cottage. Everything was good. Until the day that a witch arrived in the village. Until-

Wait. That’s not how this story goes. Let me try again.

Once, in a small village not so different from one such as this, there was a young woman, trapped in a tower by an evil stepmother. She had skin the colour of creamy milk, hair the colour of sun-kissed straw on a hot summer’s day. Her name was Leah, and she spent her days staring out of her only tiny window waiting for someone, anyone, to rescue her from her prison. One day a prince was riding by when his stallion, black as the darkest night, unexpectedly stopped and-

No, that doesn’t sound right either.

…You see, we are no longer in the world of farm boys, spinning wheels and wicked witches. Our twenty-first century lives are filled with computer screens and fast food chains, our lungs filled with the smell of exhaust fumes rather than manure. And yet, if you know where to look, the inexplicable still lingers. That flicker in the corner of your eye. A shadow where no shadow should be. This new kind of magic is just as likely to be found in a spark of electricity or the rumble of a pneumatic drill as it is in the sigh of a wave or the prick of a needle. And so, I think it might be time to tell you a new story. Are you sitting comfortably?

08:15

Once upon a time it was a very ordinary Monday morning.

We are in London. It is Spring. A wet, grey day, the type that British people are grimly proud about and yet still secretly hate. A young woman called Sara stood at the bus stop, looking up at the rain clouds and hoping it wouldn’t pour before her bus arrived. The only other person waiting beside her was a huddled figure, buried underneath an old-fashioned rain mac. “I’d stop wishing, if I were you,” the figure said suddenly, the crisp English accent revealing that she was a woman. “They’re funny like that. The rain will only come faster.” Sara frowned in confusion, surreptitiously trying to edge away from her odd, unexpected companion. “I’m sorry…They’re…?” “Oh. Of course, this is yesterday, isn’t it. Sorry about that. I’ll come back tomorrow.” “What do you mean, this is yesterday? Yesterday is yesterday.” “Of course it is,” said the figure kindly. “So sorry, I must have got it confused with last Tuesday. You should really buy an umbrella, Sara. You’re going to be soaked by the end of the day. And you really should stop absent-minded wishing. It’s a bad habit. After all, you never know who might be listening.” Sarah stared at the strange woman, face still obscured underneath the hood. “Sorry, how do you know my na-“ There was no-one there. She was alone at the bus stop. As if on cue, the rain started.   By the time her bus arrived, a very damp Sara had convinced herself that the whole thing was an over-tired hallucination. She hadn’t been getting much sleep recently, after all, and everyone knew that sleep was very important when it came to brains working properly. She squeezed on, head stuffed into a stranger’s armpit, and, for once, hoped that the rest of the day would be much more uninteresting.

13:20

Sara sat at in her cramped swivel chair, in front of her cramped desk, in her small, cramped office, her bizarre start to the morning mostly forgotten. Slightly higher up the food chain from the interns but barely more than an assistant, this was hardly what she’d imagined when she’d moved to London three years ago to ‘make it’ in the world of journalism. The whole ‘being a journalist’ thing hadn’t quite worked out and she’d found herself settling for trying to be an editor,  which in turn had turned into settling for being a proof reader for the Baking Recipes & Slimming Tips pages for an agonisingly dull magazine called Women’s Digest. It was a 2-page double spread. Sara wasn’t sure if anyone else saw the irony. She leant back for a moment, tired of trying to breathe some life into a very limp article about the three most interesting uses for raisins, and looked around. Photocopier hum, keyboard tapping, phone ringing, the smell of bad coffee and stale sweat.   How had this become her normal? The little girl that had once stared at stars and wrote fairy tales by torchlight, turned into an office drone? This was adulthood, Sara reminded herself with a sigh. This was most people’s normal. This was how rent was paid and milk was bought. She allowed herself one small 360 degree swivel on her chair before she got back to work, a tiny act of rebellion, rubbed her eyes and readied herself for more tedium. Except, rather than 572 words about raisins, there was something else entirely written on her computer screen.

IS IT TOMORROW YET?

Sara let out a yip of shock, frozen in surprise as she stared at the words. The words, looking suspiciously innocuous, stared back. She looked up, wildly searching for anyone laughing, giggling, anything to suggest that this might be a weird prank. Nobody caught her eye. After all, she didn’t exactly have many close friends in this job. Certainly no-one that would go to the trouble of teasing her with a bizarre joke. Slowly, Sara shifted her gaze back to the question typed out by an unknown hand.

IS IT TOMORROW YET?

At a loss for anything else to do, Sara slowly reached down, tapped two letters and hit send.

NO

A pause, then a reply flashed up.

I’LL COME BACK LATER. REMEMBER TO EAT LUNCH

And just like that, the recipe for raisin bran was back.

19:18

Sara turned the key in the lock, pushed open her front door and sighed in relief that her drab little flat seemed to be exactly as she’d left it. After the weird sort of day she’d had she wouldn’t have counted out coming face to face with a massive tiger or some sort of weird portal into an alternate universe or…something. Still a little cautious, she went into the kitchen, pulled out a mug from the cupboard and switched on the kettle, pulling off her wet coat as the water started to boil. Sara turned to hang the coat on a chair and then, suddenly, there was a sensation like falling backwards and forwards at the same time, a dizzy blurring that caught her breath and stung her eyes. She reached out for something, anything, to steady her, thought that she was going to faint - and then, as suddenly as it had started, the feeling stopped. Sara stood there in the middle of the kitchen, heart racing, breath coming short, unsure of what she had just experienced. She was still holding the coat. But, she slowly realised with a sinking feeling in her stomach, it was now completely dry. The kettle was no longer boiling. She slowly turned to the window, somehow already knowing what she was about to see, and stared blankly at the morning sunlight streaming through the windowpane where early evening twilight should have been instead. It was still raining. “What the…” she whispered to herself, still frozen in place. “What the actual-“ Woodenly she pulled her phone from out of her pocket, then gazed uncomprehendingly at the date. “Tomorrow,” Sara breathed. “It’s tomorrow. But- how-” Suddenly, she knew what to do. Pulling her coat back on, grabbing her keys, she yanked open the front door and ran back down the street she had only walked up minutes earlier. Sara sprinted to the bus stop, lungs burning, feet slamming onto the wet pavement. “IT’S TOMORROW! IT’S TOMORROW NOW!” she shouted. “I DON’T KNOW HOW THE HELL YOU DID IT BUT IT’S TOMORROW NOW!” “There’s no need to yell.” The mysterious figure was huddled in her rain mac, now also holding an umbrella. “it was yesterday! I swear it was yesterday! Am I going mad? How can it be yesterday and then today? I mean today and then tomorrow? What? What is going on??” “Oh, of course. You still have no idea who I am. That’s annoying. Well, I bought you an umbrella. Cost a shilling but we’ll call it a gift.” She offered a bizarrely old-fashioned looking yellow umbrella, which Sara stared at for a second, beyond confused now, then switched back to the main matter at hand. “No, listen, it was - I was standing in my kitchen and it was the evening and now it’s tomorrow morning. How does that happen?” “I grew tired of waiting,” replied the woman. “I’m also getting tired of holding this umbrella. It’s customary to accept gifts when they’re offered, Sara.” At a loss for anything else to do, Sara took the umbrella, then opened it under the mysterious figure’s impatient gaze. “There. Now you’re less likely to catch a cold. Unless, of course, you fancy just getting the rain to stop.” “Gettin- What? I can’t stop the rain! What?! Who are you?”
“Oh, this really is getting annoying.” A face squinted out at her, seemingly appraising her, then sighed. “Okay. Since I’ve gone to the bother of speeding this all up a little bit I might as well get started in earnest. Would you like a cup of tea?”

Sarah found herself following the woman to a grimy cafe with laminated menus and booths that had seen better days. She hadn’t noticed it before despite standing daily at the bus stop that was apparently opposite…but decided not to follow that thought any further in an effort to avoid any more mental instability. A middle-aged man wearing a red and white checked apron wandered over, wiping a dirty looking mug with an even dirtier looking rag. “All right, love? Same as usual?” Sarah looked up from propping the wet umbrella on the seat next to her and waited blankly for the other woman to speak before realising in shock that the man was addressing her. “Er, I haven’t actually-“ she started, trailing off as the man gave a grunt and nodded to her mysterious booth partner. ` “First time today then? Figured it would be one of these days.” “Yes, Sara and I are here to have a bit of a chat. We may need quite a lot of tea.” “I’ll put the kettle on. Would be good to have this rain stop for a bit, eh?” He winked at Sara as he headed back to the counter, a reassuring aside that did nothing to put her at ease. “Sorry, but what is going on? I’m really, really confused and just…well…” She trailed off, unsure as to what else she was. The woman opposite her finally pushed her hood down and untied the massive rain coat, surprising Sara as she did so. Quite the opposite from the mad-looking old woman she realised she’d been half expecting to see, this was a woman maybe in her early thirties, braided hair pulled back into a intricate tail, rich brown eyes staring at hers with a hint of humour. She was dressed, Sarah could see now, in a immaculate navy-blue suit and tie, just a little damp from the rain. “I know the creepy-old-man raincoat gives the wrong idea,” she said apologetically, “But when you’ve paid this much for a suit you don’t want to ruin it by getting it endlessly wet.” “Endlessly? It’s only been raining for, like, two days,” Sarah said, aware that she hadn’t really picked the most unusual part in all of this but deciding that it was best to start somewhere. “For you, maybe,” said the smartly dressed woman, sighing as she straightened her paisley-print tie. “Some of us don’t quite experience the world in such a…linear fashion. I’m Meredith. Have we really not even done that yet?” “..Sara,” Sara managed weakly. “Yes, yes, I know. First of all, let me apologise for dragging you forward a little bit. It wasn’t the most polite move but everyone is very clear on this being the day that we have this conversation and I had really just had had enough of waiting around.” “Everyone? Hang on, waiting around? You’ve been, like, stalking me?” “Stalking is a…harsh word. Believe it or not we do actually know each other very well indeed, although clearly not right at this moment.” “What, we’re, like, friends? I’ve never met you!” Meredith looked at her a moment with an uncomfortably penetrating gaze. “Hm. This is going to be a little trickier than I thought.” The man with the apron came back with two mugs, two milk jugs and a large pot of tea on a tray, next to a little plate of biscuits. Sara was deeply unnerved to realise that they were her favourite kind. “Thanks, Alan,” said Meredith. Alan set the tray down, gave them a smile and a nod and vanished off again. “Hiring Alan was a very good idea of yours,” she said absent-mindedly as she poured the milk. “And before you say anything, it’s almond milk.” “…You know I’m lactose intolerant…?” said Sarah, now so far beyond the point of comprehending anything that she’d reached an odd place of calm. “That’s…nice.” Meredith finished pouring the tea and sat back, idly tapping a finger on the side of her mug. “Drink your tea, Sara. Though possibly I should have gone for whisky. You might need it by the end of this.” Sarah numbly took a sip of what was, she had to admit, a perfect cup of tea, and glanced out the window at the deserted street, rain slithering and sliding down the glass. “Are we still on Edward’s Street?” She asked. “Or somewhere that just looks like Edward’s Street?” “We’re… adjacent to Edward’s Street,” Meredith replied. “We are looking at it. It’s just a little bit…paused, that’s all.” “Is this some Harry Potter thing?” Sarah blurted out. “Like, are you about to start waving around a wand or something?” Meredith rolled her eyes as she drank some more tea. “Now, you were much more close to the truth of the matter with the idea that the Edward’s Street we’re looking at might not necessarily be the Edward’s Street that we just left. Huh. Harry Potter. If I had a wand that would make life a lot easier, believe me.” “So…Look, you’re going to have to give me something to go on. I’m lost over here,” Sara said with sudden exasperation. “You’re a time traveller? You’re an alien with a spaceship? You’re a ghost? What’s the deal here?” “I don’t think I’m a time traveller in the way that you’re thinking,” Meredith replied, “But that’s the most accurate one from the list. Less Doctor Who, more…The best way to describe it is that I’m someone who slips in and out of places. Geographic places and…otherwise.” “Well that’s vague,” Sara replied sourly. “And I suppose during whilst you’re doing this “skipping backwards and forwards in time” thing we’ve met before? In my future? And now you, what, need my help with something? Look, I’m really not the person you think I am. Not that I know who you think I am. I’m…like… I’m not exciting. I’m from Cumbria, not an alien planet or… oh, I don’t know! I don’t know what’s going on or who you think I am but I’m not whoever that is,” Sara stopped, aware she was making very little sense. “Basically, you’ve got the wrong person. Can I…like…go? We might be, I don’t know, future work buddies or friends or whatever according to you but right now I really don’t know you.” Meredith scowled at her, and Sara was worried for a second that something awful was going to happen. What was she doing, annoying someone who messed around with time without breaking a sweat? “I’m not a plot device in one of your beloved Marvel films, Sara.” She seemed to make up her mind about something, leant forward. Sara half-noticed that Meredith smelt like freshly cut grass and rose blossom. It wasn’t unpleasant, and maybe even a little…familiar? Like an echo of a memory whispering to her from the past…or the future…? She shook her head slightly to dispel the odd thought. “Sara,” said Meredith in a tone that demanded full attention. She looked, bizarrely, a little embarrassed. “There’s something…ah…oh, there’s no easy way to say this.” “What?” “We’re not, as you so fondly put it, work acquaintances. You and I… we’re…” The pause hovered in the air, froze for a moment and then crashed back to earth as realisation struck. “What? What? We’re, like…We’re-” “No need to sound so thrilled, darling,” Meredith said dryly. “But yes. At some point in the near future that we can’t really wait to get to, it’s safe to say that you trust me quite a bit.” “Wait. Just hold on for a damn minute. If we’re…why are we even having this conversation? Wouldn’t I have told you about this? Couldn’t you just tell me what future me said happened?” Meredith smirked. “You did say that I made quite the first impression. But that fact that you just became more confused trying to even construct that sentence should explain why it doesn’t really work like that. It’s just too complicated. On the whole I try not to ask too many questions about things I’ve apparently yet to do - puts everything out of balance somewhat if I’m operating off a mental checklist of everything I have or haven’t yet done or said. But. You did say that I needed to show you this.” She loosened her tie, undid the top button of her shirt and fished out a necklace, a pendant the shape of a swallow hanging from a simple silver chain. “Where did you get that?” Sara snapped, staring at the necklace. “From you, Sara,” Meredith said with real impatience in her voice now as she tucked the necklace away again, fastened her top button and adjusted her tie back into its impeccable original position.  “I know this is hard to comprehend but you’re really going to have to try and have this existential crisis a little bit faster. This is your mother’s necklace, the one that you promised her to keep safe, the one that you gave to me on our… well. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You gave me this necklace, Sara. Can you trust me now?” “Trust you?” Sara felt completely lost. She couldn’t relate to this future person, this Sara, who gave away family heirlooms and was apparently very important to the universe. “I don’t know if I can trust me. …Who am I?” “Who are you?” Said Meredith with a quirked eyebrow. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. You’re Sara. If you don’t know who you are then there’s not much chance for the rest of us.” “Well I obviously don’t know,” Sara said, hysteria rising, “Because I think I’m a very, very normal, boring 25-year-old who’s a copy editor for a bad women’s magazine, who grew up in the Lake District and is allergic to cats, whereas clearly there’s a rather different Sara going around who, like, knows about inexplicable cafes and dates mysterious women and, and, can do stuff to the weather?” Meredith gave an exasperated sigh. “That is the least helpful self-description that I think anyone has ever given about themselves, ever. All right. You, Sara Dawson, did indeed grow up in the Lake District and you are quite impressively allergic to cats.  That’s where the correct part of your surmising ends. You’ve been a copy editor for all of a year so I hardly think it’s fair to say that that’s a large part of your personality, especially since you stop working there as of…well, today. And I doubt a boring person would be able to do what you’re able to do.” “And what is it exactly,” ground out Sara, completely at the end of her tether, “That I am able to do?” Meredith looked at her a moment. “I see I’m going to have to give you a nudge. All right. I wouldn’t normally do this but the time being what it is…” She held out a hand. “I’m sorry to spring this on you so suddenly, and so, well, brutally. I always hoped it was a little more gentle, but apparently not. I’m afraid you’re just going to have to trust me right now, Sara. Please.” Sara hesitated, then took the offered hand. It seemed like by this point it was better to continue forging forward in this utterly insane sequence of events than look back and realise how far from normal she’d somehow come. “Close your eyes,” Meredith instructed and Sara did so, feeling utterly foolish. “Right. I might as well warn you that this is probably going to be a little frightening. I realise that this thought is less comforting than it might be, given the context, but…I’m right here with you.” A second passed. Nothing. Two seconds passed. Nothing. Sara had just opened her mouth to say that whatever terrifying thing that Meredith thought might be happening it didn’t seem to be working when-  

Suddenly, impossibly, Sara heard everything. Felt everything. It seemed overwhelmingly like life had, unbeknownst to her, been previously lived in a black and white photocopy, a dull 2D imitation of what existing could be, and now unexpectedly had brilliantly opened up into high definition 4D. Even as she marvelled at this new impossibly expanded world there was a distant, vague memory that this was how it had been at the start, at the very beginning of being Sara. But, oh! The joy, the power of that sensing, that feeling - the beat of her heart, the blood coursing through her veins, through Meredith’s veins, green shoots twisting up through the earth under the tarmac deep, deep below her feet, the electricity crackling in the air, even the slight vibrations of the very atoms making up the table, the floor, the air, the entire fabric of existence tangible and ready to mould into- “Sara! Stop!” With a gasp, Sara was sucked back into 2D, though not quite the same 2D she had left: that sense of feeling, of sensing, hummed in the background, ready to be pulled forward once more. Meredith, letting go, pushed her hands through her hair in a gesture that belied her stress. “Bloody hell, Sara. Let’s go easy on ripping apart the universe, shall we?” “I remember,” Sara said slowly, the world and Meredith reduced to muffled background noise as it all slowly fell into place. “I remember now. This is how I used to see things.” “Yes.” Meredith looked a little more calm as she drank her tea. “Until someone sensible on the Board decided that having a 1 year old playing around with the existence of life as we know it probably wasn’t the best idea. You were fitted with the mental equivalent of bicycle stabilisers. Something to hold everything in check until you were ready to actually control what you could do.” Sara frowned. “The board? What’s the board? A group of, I’m guessing, old white guys got together and decided to…what? Essentially… maim me? Didn’t I get a say in this?” “They’re not exactly guys and you were, again, let me state this, under one years old so couldn’t say much in the first place but, yes, I see your point. Which is why I’ve taken the metaphorical  bicycle stabilisers off. Something that I’m sure several people will think is a terrible, terrible mistake on my part.” Sara looked at Meredith, really looked at her, for the first time, eyes slightly narrowed. “And why isn’t it a terrible, terrible mistake on your part?” She smiled slightly, cocking her head. “Because I know you. Someone who likes living on this world, who likes biscuits and sunrises and puppies and, well, generally being alive as much as you do, is unlikely to implode the universe. Not on purpose, at any rate.” “…What about not on purpose?” “…Well yes, that’s a slightly different matter. And why we should really get going, darling. We have an issue with the Board that needs your help but it’s probably a good idea you get a handle on things first. I know somewhere where you can test drive a few of your…capabilities without causing lasting damage to any small solar systems.” Sara drank the last of her tea and stood up as Meredith pulled on her damp coat. “You still haven’t explained who these board people actually are, Meredith.” “One thing at a time, dear,” said Meredith absent-mindedly as she steered Sara towards the door, picking up the umbrella as she did so. “Let’s start at the start and see where we go from there.” `”Oh come on, it can’t be that complicated.” “I really think you might be surprised about that…but if you insist…” The two of them slipped out of the cafe and into the rain. A moment later, both the cafe and the figures were gone. And a moment after that, if you listened carefully, drifting on the breeze, you might have heard:
“They’re the board of WHAT?!”

[royalnovels-blog]

AWE Chapter 167

Chapter 167: Nine Serenities Ghost Domain! Bai Xiaochun’s scalp tingled in fear, and his eyes went wide. A pale hand reached out, belonging to a young girl in a white dress. She wore a ferocious, enigmatic smile on her face. Her face was half covered by her long black hair, making her look even more terrifying than she might have normally. An aura of death pulsed off of her, transforming into something that looked like vipers seeking to bore into Bai Xiaochun’s eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and even his pores. However, just when the hand was about to touch him, his nine spiritual seas erupted with a Heaven-Dao aura, and the aura of death collapsed. The hissing snakes were wiped away, and the girl’s hand withered, revealing dead skin and sticky, dripping blood. It was terrifying to the extreme. The girl let out a begrudging howl that echoed out into the air. At the same time, the teleportation power surrounding Bai Xiaochun exploded out with full force, and he vanished from the Fallen Sword World. After all of the disciples from the four sects were gone, the Fallen Sword World continued to collapse. But then, something else happened. Massive amounts of hazy gray mist billowed out and began to fill the world. It was rife with an aura of death, and smelled like rot. Even the four powerful teleportation formations crumbled into ruins because of the rotting aura. In the blink of an eye, the entire world… became a domain of ghosts. Howls rose up from within the mists. Apparently, all of the banesouls which had existed in the world were now beginning to awaken. Strangely, the huge sword stopped crumbling! In the outside world, Ouyang Jie and the others saw the sword cease crumbling, and watched as black mist begin to pulse out of it. They exchanged dismayed glances. However, a moment later, they tried once again to enter the sword, and this time had no problem doing so. As they entered, they could still sense a fading holy aura. “That aura….” “Heavenstring energy!!! That’s heavenstring energy!!” Even as their faces flickered with shock, the sinister voice of a young girl rose up from the mists below…. It sounded bizarre and cruel, and filled the entire world. “The heavenstring energy hath been harvested by your disciples. Henceforth, this place shall be called… the Nine Serenities Ghost Domain. In the future, do not set foot in this place. Any who violate this prescript will have their entire sect exterminated!” As soon as the voice rang out, Ouyang Jie and the others coughed up mouthfuls of blood. The voice crashed in their ears like thunder as they were forcefully ejected from the world. “Banespirit!!” they cried in alarm. The pressure they felt was something that exceeded the Nascent Soul stage. Trembling, hearts battered by waves of shock, they retreated at full speed, simultaneously sending word back to their sects. “The Fallen Sword World has been transformed into the Nine Serenities Ghost Domain. Furthermore… one of the banesouls awakened and became a banespirit!!” “The heavenstring energy was taken away? Who? Which disciple of which sect got it? Does that mean… someone reached Heaven-Dao Foundation Establishment!?!?” Even as they fled, the former Fallen Sword World, which was now the Nine Serenties Ghost Domain, filled up with mist. Standing in the mist was a girl in a white dress, holding a skinless, shrunken version of Lei Shan. At first she was looking up into the sky, but then she lowered her eyes to gaze at the tens of thousands of banesouls in the area. All of them… were prostrating themselves to her! Not a single sound could be heard. As for Lei Shan, his eyes were filled with incredible terror and pain. Standing next to the girl in the white dress was a pretty young woman with expressionless eyes, a puppet. She was none other than… Gongsun Wan’er. There was no poison upon her any more, nor any centipedes. The human-faced spider had transformed into mist and vanished. She was now completely clean and empty, inside and out…. “Aw, you don’t want to stay and play with me, big bro…?” the girl said, her voice sinister and bizarre. “Well, that’s fine. I’ll be able to leave this place soon, then I can come find you. I’ll show you how pretty this new dress of mine is.” The girl chuckled and looked over at Gongsun Wan’er. The fact that the Fallen Sword World had been transformed into the Nine Serenities Ghost Domain was a major event in the eastern Lower Reaches of the cultivation world. What had once been a Foundation Establishment Holy Land was now a domain of terror! Furthermore, one of the banesouls had awakened and turned into a terrifying, sentient banespirit. Even the elders of the four sects were left jumpy at the thought of it. However, there was nothing that could be done about the matter. Although the matter would influence the four sects to some degree, it wasn’t a huge loss. Furthermore, it was a joint loss to all four sects. What was most astonishing of all was the information confirmed by the voice of the girl… the heavenstring energy had been taken. That meant someone must have reached Heaven-Dao Foundation Establishment. “Who was it…. Which sect and which disciple got the heavenstring energy!?” “Dammit! If it was one of the other three sects, that means they’ll have a Heaven-Dao Foundation Establishment disciple. We need to kill that person when they’re weak. If they reach Core Formation, they’ll be a force not easily stopped!” “It was definitely our Blood Stream Sect. Hahaha! Now we have both Patriarch Limitless… and another top-level cultivator!” The four elders immediately used transmission jade slips to get the information back to their sects as quickly as possible. At the same time, they tried to make contact with the disciples who had been teleported out of the Fallen Sword World. Unfortunately, they soon found that the fluctuations caused by the teleportation made communication impossible. Soon, the Blood Stream Sect, Profound Stream Sect, Spirit Stream Sect and Pill Stream Sect were sent a huge commotion. Even the patriarchs of the sect were shaken. Large numbers of Foundation Establishment Dharma protectors and elders were dispatched. Even prime elders were sent out. No effort was spared to track down the disciples who had been teleported out to random locations. All they had to do was find one disciple, and they should be able to get information about what had occurred in the Fallen Sword World. Most importantly, everyone wanted to know… who got the heavenstring energy! In the Spirit Stream Sect, the founding patriarch personally passed down orders which sent countless Inner Sect disciples and Foundation Establishment elders into action. Even Outer Sect disciple were called upon. They flew out from both the south bank and the north bank, spreading out with one mission: find the disciples who had been teleported out of the Fallen Sword Abyss. As soon as a single one was located, they were to report back to the sect immediately. The first person to be located was not one of the numerous disciples from the Spirit Stream Sect, but rather, one of the five remaining Pill Stream Sect disciples! The Pill Stream Sect had sent 80 disciples into the Fallen Sword World, and more than ninety percent of them had been killed. Luckily for the Pill Stream Sect, one of the five disciples who made it out alive happened to be teleported to a location just outside of the Pill Stream Sect itself. When the Pill Stream Sect elders and sect leader arrived, they found an extremely weak disciple, his energy almost completely drained. Fellow disciples immediately supported him, pouring their own spiritual power into him so that he could speak. Trembling, eyes flickering with fear, he weakly explained, “Dead. They’re all dead. Eldest Brother Fang Lin was killed. Zhao Rou is also dead. All of them were exterminated by Bai Xiaochun from the Spirit Stream Sect!! “Bai Xiaochun… completed nine Tideflows. He and Song Que fought over the heavenstring energy, and… he reached Heaven-Dao Foundation Establishment!!” The disciples’ words left the Pill Stream Sect cultivators, and even the elders and the sect leader, completely shaken. Gasps could be heard, and eyes went wide with disbelief. “Heaven-Dao… Foundation Establishment!?” “Bai Xiaochun? Spirit Stream Sect?!” The sect leader’s eyes flickered, and he grimly said, “Immediately send word to all of our spies in the Spirit Stream Sect. Tell them to find Bai Xiaochun and kill him. Spare no effort whatsoever!!” Previous           Main menu            Next Click to Post

[hydrus]

Version 267

windows

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os x

app

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linux

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source

tar.gz

I had a great week. I fixed new and old bugs and polished a bunch of the new network stuff.

bug fixes

I was overambitious with my time last week, and it lead to some frustrating bugs. If you were affected, I apologise. Things should be running better now.

First of all, subscriptions with unicode characters in their names should save their bandwidth history without problems now, so please unpause them.

And the occasional flickering 'modal' popup messages should also be gone. They won't appear unless they have plenty of work to do, will behave better when the client is deminimising, and should exit cleanly (sometimes, they were exiting badly and locked the user out of the client). Let me know if you still get any problems here.

Also, I put some time into exploring the opening-dialog-when-busy crash properly and have it fixed with a new custom control. Anyone who previously had a crash opening a dialog or sorting a listctrl while they had 20+ pages open should now be ok to open dialogs again. I have turned off all auto-sorting on all the old controls. If this was an issue for you, please do not manually sort any listctrls (the grid/spreadsheet 'tables' of data that you can sort by clicking the column title) for now. The new control is only in 'review bandwidth' so far, so feel free to sort that all you like, but the others will take a few weeks to replace.

page improvements

Pages now have more power over naming themselves. File pages launched from a subscription popup will be named after the subscription, and several other instances will do similar.

By default, pages will now show their current number of files after their name. They will also clip to max 20 characters. If you do not like either of these, you can edit them in options->gui.

I have been talking with several users about better page information and layout, which these changes start. I would like to slip in double-notebook 'nested' layout in the coming weeks, perhaps even next week, to improve high-page-count workflow and make certain sessions a little easier to manage.

Also, pages will use less CPU in most situations, especially when they are not currently in view. 10,000+ file imports should run a lot quicker now!

import improvements

I did some background cleanup and polishing work on most of the importers--the hdd import page now uses the new file import status control, and galleries will sleep and wake more intelligently, for instance.

I also fixed some small bugs and a bigger issue with the gelbooru parser, which was only checking 'odd' page numbers and hence finding only half the results.

And now, drag-and-dropping a 4chan or 8chan thread url onto the client will spawn a thread watcher immediately! Just DnD from the address bar or the Reply link!

full list

drag-and-dropping a 4chan or 8chan url onto the client will now automatically open a thread watcher for that url

fixed an issue where web domain or subscription network contexts that included unicode characters in their context data were unable to serialise and save to the db, causing error spam when the bandwidth manager attempted to save itself

subscriptions will now show a network job control in their popup as they do network work

subscriptions will cancel more reliably during gallery parse

subscriptions now have some 'delay' logic that will stop them sometimes restarting as soon as they are cancelled or otherwise have to stop mid-work

subscriptions will now tolerate up to five 'already in cache' urls per page parse until it considers the page 'already seen'. this is to catch the odd additional late insert and avoid the problem of a page updating and shuffling everything up one as the subscription walks through pages

maintenance modal popup messages should no longer appear if their jobs are very quick

queued up modal popup messages will no longer flicker their dialogs on a de-minimise

should have fixed an issue where modal popup messages could sometimes error out on a close attempt, locking the client's whole gui and requiring a force quit

fixed an issue where the modal popup message dialog was OKing on a close attempt of a non-cancellable job, despite presenting user text indicating otherwise

did a bunch of data work on pages

page tab names will now be clipped to 20 characters by default

pages now show (num_files) after their name by default, although you can set this for only import pages or turn it off completely

options for these new behaviours are in options->gui--and page names will update immediately on dialog ok

subscription and import folder 'show files' events (and a couple of other misc occasions) will now launch their page tab with the sub/folder name rather than a flat 'files'

wrote a new listctrl class with custom sort code that does not suffer from the 'crash when sorted while many pages open' bug. it also handles data in a simpler way for hydrus

review bandwidth listctrl now uses this new class and should now not crash your client. I will replace all the other listctrls with the new class over the coming weeks

temporarily, no old listctrls will auto-sort themselves (as this causes a crash for many users)! if you do not suffer from the crash, please sort them yourselves for now

reduced some large-scale gui import lag:

reduced content processing CPU load on clients with many thumbnails open

massively reduced content processing CPU load on non-current pages

offloaded newly-imported file thumbnail detection and generation to a non-gui thread

migrate database dialog now lets you move the whole database and all portable locations, which requires a client shutdown

the raw url downloader will no longer have a problem with pasted url lists that include empty newlines

all the downloaders/importers now sleep on cleverer event objects so they will burn less idle cpu and wake as soon as they have new work to do

fixed and otherwise improved some gallery downloader timing logic

hdd import pages now use the file import status control

the thread watcher's controls now try to wrap in a single sizer. it uses less space, but might sperg out, let me know if it is a problem. I'll replace the whole watcher timing system in the new engine anyway

fixed a gelbooru (and possibly others) booru parsing bug that meant half of the pages in the gallery walk were being skipped (e.g. 'mogudan' was producing ~350 files when there were actually 690 in the list)

fixed some dialog panel layout scrollbar-cutoff in sevaral Linux places and perhaps elsewhere

cleaned debug menu a little and added a save 'last session' entry

fixed an issue where some kinds of media would error on notification of new url association

clients will now save small transaction progress reliably within ten seconds no matter how idle they are

deleted the old 'gui capitalisation' option--I never got around to expanding it beyond a handful of menu labels, it was always too much to work on for too little reward

improved support for certain broken videos--these will import ok, but full rendering might be borked to different degrees, so let me know how it goes.

cleared out some old content processing code

cleared out some old unused db data

removed all old 'waiting politely' download settings and gui code

misc prep work for wx update

misc gui code refactoring

misc downloader cleanup and timing tweaks

misc improvements

next week

I enjoyed working on smaller stuff and catching up on back-burner jobs and cleanup this week. I would like to do more of this stuff for a few weeks, but I'll also keep putting time into the network overhaul. Hydrus services and a couple of other things still use the old system, and there is plenty of more polish and test code to add before I can properly move on to the login and domain-handling engines.

I played with the new 'Phoenix' version of wx this week. After some work, I got the client to boot in Windows, but there will be a bunch to do to get it running without errorspam. I will try to replicate my experiment in Linux and OS X and then schedule a full week in the next few months just dedicated to changing over.