#other than probably go the library to blow off some steam

[14dayswithyou]

Teo NSFW Alphabet

🔞 18+ CONTENT! MINORS: DO NOT INTERACT! 🔞 Hello Teo Alvarado Nation, I come bearing gifts

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

For one night stands; Teo will casually point out where the bathroom is and let them use any of his personal products —before ignoring them in favour of his phone or organising an Uber/chauffeur to pick them up. But for regular hookups; he'll have a towel, a bottle of water, and some snacks ready on standby. They are welcome to stay the night, but they better be gone before Teo wakes up in the morning.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

Necks :) He likes how nicely his fingers look wrapped around his partner’s throat — as well as the expensive jewellery he buys specifically for them to wear. I know everyone probably expects me to say that Teo likes his own face the most, but he honestly might prefer his own biceps instead. He's worked hard to maintain this kind of build, so it's only natural for him to want to show off the results.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

The only time you'll ever get to see his cum is if you give him head; otherwise, he'll use a condom (or send you home if there are none available). But!! His seed is somewhat thick and has a bitter taste. It's not unpleasant, though!

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's probably had a sexual escapade or two with a few of the other library employees by now ^^; He won't go anywhere near your immediate coworkers, though — he's not that much of an asshole.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

Sexually? There's almost nothing this man hasn't done already. He's extremely skilled, knows what he wants, and isn't afraid to ask for it if his partner(s) are willing. Romantically, however? That's an entirely new realm to him. Theo has probably never held anyone's hand before or kissed them with affectionate intentions. He knows how to fuck, but he doesn't know how to make love.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggystyle, in front of a mirror. He likes being able to pull his partner's hair, slap their ass, or place a hand on their neck/shoulder blade to bend them to his liking. Seeing his partner's face might be a bit too intimate for him, so any position that lets Teo fuck undisturbed is good in his books.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

While he's far more serious, he'll entertain any goofy partners. If they crack jokes or do something silly, he'll roll his eyes and go along with it — for the most part. Once it starts getting old, he'll simply ignore it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Most of his body is hairless for his own personal preference, though he does grow out his happy trail on occasion... Especially if he knows his regular partners are into it. It's a dark patch of black to match the hair on his head.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Literally non-existent. When he sleeps with someone, it's because he's either looking for a bit of fun or to let off some steam. Both parties are aware of this, though, and Teo would never have sex with someone who sees him in a romantic light or wants something more than a casual hookup. I can't believe this is happening, but if it's blog!Teo (aka Rosie and Jesse delulu AU /pos), then he would be waaay more intimate with his partner! He's more likely to make eye contact and even lean in for a kiss if you beg him enough.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Although he'd definitely jack off if necessary, Teo is typically around people who are willing to help him blow off some steam — so there isn't really much point. Teo does find the idea of mutual masturbation hot, though!

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

My dyslexic ass doesn't know how to spell it correctly, but he's got a crying kink!!! Seeing his partner so overwhelmed with pleasure just does something to him, and it goes hand in hand with his degradation and knife kink. However, I want to make it explicitly clear that Teo doesn't get off to seeing his partner in pain!! He also wouldn't do something they're not comfortable with. Everything gets discussed before the relationship situationship can delve into anything more long-lasting.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He loves to do it inside his McLaren (or Tesla, in Blog! Teo's case). His windows are heavily tinted so you don't have to worry about any outside interference, though Teo isn't above threatening to wind down the window inch by inch in order to tease you. Other than that, Teo is down to fuck almost anywhere that's hygienic and sanitary. But keep in mind that he also gets a kick out of public indecency, and bribing the law isn't above him either (if you guys somehow got caught).

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Sending him risque texts, telling him you're bored and alone, unabashedly sitting in his lap while he's with his friends, literally taking his hands and shoving them down your pants, etc. He likes people who are confident and forward with him without feeling ashamed or embarrassed by it. ...Just don't make it seem like you're trying to claim ownership over him, though. Don't cling to his side to make his friends jealous. Don't send him spicy texts because you saw him flirting with another man. And don't act brazen just to flaunt your relationship in front of that cute souvenir shop cashier.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

To be honest, there isn't much that Teo is not open to. He's down for almost anything so long as it's legal and not too immoral/outlandish. He's fine with somnophilia if it's discussed prior, but things like dubcon might be a bit too icky for his tastes. Keep in mind that he's also really selfish, and would probably want to stick to his own kinks since they are more familiar to him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He was born to be a pillow princess, but wouldn't mind going down on his regular hookups either.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It's always hard and rough with him, though he likes to switch up the tempo in order to tease you/his partners. Just when you think you're about to come, he'll slow down and ultimately stop moving. And once you've sufficiently begged him enough — maybe turn on the waterworks to really get him going — then he'll give it to you fast and hard until your toes are curling and your eyes are rolling back.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He's Corland Bay's king of quickies lmao. Teo is the type to pull you (and your clothes) aside and take you where you stand before going about his day as if nothing happened.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's always down to take risks and experiment! Teo is open to trying out almost anything — and unlike Ren, he's more in favour of having others see you both get fucked. Teo knows he's good and wants to show the both of you off.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

While 3-4 rounds might not sound like much, Teo tends to draw them out for as long as possible. It's almost like he's trying to edge you with how often he'll stop before you can reach your peak... But the orgasms always feel that much better for the both of you when you're especially horny and desperate for release. I think the better answer would be that Teo can last at least six hours in the bedroom.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't use anything on himself, though Teo does have a small box of toys for his partners who prefer it. I wouldn't count his knife collection as toys, nor the literal police handcuffs stashed away in his drawer. (Which, ironically, were used to detain him after he vandalised a small business..... Why did they let him keep the cuffs.... How did he get away with it.........)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Teo isn't one to be a physical tease (he doesn't have the patience for it), though he is a massive verbal tease in the bedroom. More often than not, his words are mixed with a degrading edge to it. "My thigh ain't enough for you? Then why don't you try begging me for more, then. C'mon, I know you can do it." / "You want more? Move your hips then." / "Hands on the mirror, doll. I never gave you permission to touch yourself." / "Look at you, crying while bouncing on a cock like that. Can't handle it splitting you open like that, huh?" / "Fuck. Can't help but act like such a cock-hungry slut, can you? I'm not even all the way in yet."

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He mainly uses low grunts and growls, though he does use a lot of dirty talk to fill the silence. Teo gets more vocal the closer he is to coming.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Blog!Teo only ever kisses Angel :) It's already kinda hinted at in all da NSFW fics with him involved, but I'll take advantage of this situation and make it more official hehe

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

I ERASED HIS PENIS FROM MY MEMORY, But I wanna say it's around 7 inches and extremely girthy. There's a prominent vein or two running along the underside with a slight curve to the left when erect. Even when soft, it looks like he's packing heat down there.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Teo has a high sex drive, but he can easily manage it. Surprisingly, he probably only has sex like... maybe four or five times a week? He's too busy being a public menace and setting things on fire. Now that I think about it, I do quickly want to reiterate that while, yes, Teo is a playboy; that isn't his defining personality trait. Since the very beginning, he's always been a lover of chaos and messing with people (/nsx) — not sleeping around. Flirting =/= sex, and Teo has always been so much more than just a hedonistic fuckboy. So please don't take this post as confirmation of him only being interested in sex (or sleeping with Angel)!!

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Teo will most likely stay up a bit longer just to scroll through social media on his phone, though he is willing to initiate pillow talk if it's with one of his FWBs/regular hookups. If it's a one night stand, he'll only fall asleep once they're gone.

[jake-g-lockley]

If you want to, no pressure, #19 with dear Marc fronting, but can contain all moon boys of course. Really anything you wanna do is fine with me. Just excited to see what you come up with lovely.

Problems (Marc Spector x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be Tagged?

A/N: Melodyyyyyy hehe I love me some heated Marc Spector content too. Thanks for the ask lovelyy! 

Warnings: MDNI, Making out, dry humping (if ya squint mate), hair pulling, swearing, tiny mention of Wendy (im so fucking sorry y’all)

Word Count: 1.5k

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Marc Spector wasn’t in the best of moods.

He took a deep breath and held his textbooks close, counting random numbers to clear his head as the elevator brought him to his floor. He was exhausted, tired from the failing classes and yelling at the lecturers. He just wanted to dump all of his books onto his bed, grab his gym bag and release some steam in the gym. That was all he had to do to make him relax.

Simple right?

Wrong.

Marc’s other problem lived in his dorm with him and that problem was you. It had been weeks and the both of you had been trying hard to move out of the dorm, but everytime you did, there was a scheduling error that could not be solved which only made the both of you more frustrated. 

You had created a set of rules for the both of you to follow and you followed them religiously. You were the quiet studious girl while Marc was the unbothered jock who did not give a shit about any rule. That’s why the both of you didn’t get along. In fact, you hated each other with a burning passion, passion so fiery that you both could probably blow up the entire row of dorm rooms if you wanted to. 

Marc rolled his eyes and set his hand on the doorknob, knowing what awaited him on the other side. He flung the door open and you turned to glare at him from your desk. 

“Not a word, I don’t want to hear it.” Marc says before you even open your mouth.

“You fucked a chick here when I was at the library! Are you out of your goddamn mind, Spector?” you stood up and slammed your textbook close. 

“I said, I don’t want to hear it.” he pushed again, not wanting to look at you as he shoved things into his gym bag at a rapid pace. 

“You think it's fun to chase someone out of my dorm at 3 am in the fucking morning? You really think the world revolves around you huh?” your rage was boiling over you and you wanted nothing more than to beat Marc Spector to pulp with your bare hands.

You were tired with the way he waltzed around as if he owned the place, as if he could just do as he pleased wherever and whenever. He was moving around the room, mumbling the word “deodorant” and tossing things around. 

“Yea I fucked that chick, so what? What are you gonna do about it? All you do is sleep over your books and worry about studying, what am I supposed to do about it?” He grumbles back, pulling his pillow to check his bed for the missing item. 

You stared at him, appalled at his stupidity. 

“I don’t even do anything to you Spector, why are you doing this to make my life so fucking miserable?” you yell, unable to control yourself any longer. 

To your shock, Marc slides his hand across his desk, causing his pencil holder to go flying across the room, making you gasp. He screams in frustration, and slumps onto his bed with his face in his hands, unable to stop the angry tears from leaving his eyes. He barely let himself take a breath before he looked at you, his head yearning to say sorry but his mouth twisting into a wild scowl worthy of his own mother’s anger. Your heart drops to your stomach as you take note of the tears staining his face, unable to move a muscle as he slowly lifts himself from off his bed. 

“You wanna talk about the things you do to me? Huh?” he says coldly prowling closer to you, like a panther about to strike. 

You find the brain power to make your legs move but you stumble into your chair, catching yourself at the last second. You were confused. What the hell could you have possibly done to Marc that you were unaware about?

“You, you’re the one who makes me miserable, not the other way around, so please don’t tell me that I am anywhere close to making your life agonisingly painful.” he growled through gritted teeth. 

He was getting closer now, you could see the angry vein popping from his neck.

“You wanna talk about how you pull my head right out of a lesson and into all the things I would do to you?” your eyes widened slightly and your ears perked up at the way his voice dropped slightly.

“You wanna talk about how I catch myself watching you when you slowly rub your makeup off your face and do that little smile when you’re done wishing that I could be the cause of that smile?” 

Butterflies took over and began their assault on every inch of your body, sending an array of goosebumps up your spine. 

“You wanna talk about how I sometimes make the mistake of looking at you when you’re fast asleep, wishing that that pillow you hug between your legs was me instead?” 

He was so close to the point that you could see minuscule tear drops clinging to his beautiful lashes.

“You wanna talk about how much I would do just to feel your lips against mine?” 

The last line came out as a whisper, almost as if Marc didn’t want to admit it, almost as if it was a secret too blasphemous that he would rather pay whatever price he had to pay in hell rather than say it directly to your face. But it was too late, he had already done it.

You were surprised that your anger flared harder through your body, almost like a rush of adrenalin as you stared into Marc Spector’s wrathful brown eyes. Your hand shot forward and you grabbed him by the collar of his soft hoodie and you pulled him with all your strength, surprising him and making him stumble into you.

“If you’re so fucking desperate then just kiss me, you fool!” you spat, watching at the exact second when the air in the room changed to something that was out of your control. 

Marc closes the gap between the both of you in an instant, sweeping you off your feet as his lips came crashing against yours. His hands gripped at your hips hard before coiling around your waist and pulling you ever so close, crushing every bone that existed in your body. You moan into the kiss, your arm looped itself around his neck and your free hand combs up his curls for purchase, pulling hard as Marc deepens the kiss, licking into your mouth with enough fervour to turn you into mush, almost as if he was begging you to let him be mad at you.

Once Marc Spector got a taste of you, he couldn’t stop. His hands moved quickly and almost fluidly, snaking under your sweatshirt to feel your skin. Only when you pressed harder against him did he slide his hand to squeeze one of your breasts, nipping at your bottom lip at the same time and making you whine his name and breathe hard against his face. 

“Fuck I want to hear that again.” he said pushing you towards and down onto your bed. 

His lips met yours more carefully this time and you could feel him keening into your touch as you slid your own hands up his hoodie and pressed your palms against his broad chest. You broke off the kiss and pushed him down instead, the vexation you felt against him slowly morphing into a confidence that you’d never thought you had as you straddled his waist. You brought your hand back up to the back of his head and pulled on his curls once more, making him arch back with a moan, exposing his neck for you to devour. 

You started your assault on his neck, kissing, biting and sucking in a pattern that had him writhing against you, grinding his hips up to meet yours. His hands couldn’t seem to let go of you, as if he was absolutely hopeless without the feeling of you. All of his frustrations melted away and were replaced with a soft feeling of needing to float away from all his problems with you. 

Once you were satisfied with the litter of marks you had left on him, you gave him one last, softer peck on his lips and slotted your face in the space between his neck and shoulder, catching your breath as you relaxed onto his body, covering him like a weighted blanket. You only came to your senses once you felt Marc’s hand in your hair, softly brushing through each strand with his fingers. Your hand found his and you laced your fingers with his, cherishing the warmth that he provided. 

“Your deodorant is on your bedside table, by the way.” you murmur into the shell of his ear making him scoff softly.

Marc definitely didn’t need the gym today, all he needed was you. 

Reblogs are appreciated~~~

[queen-of-deans-booty]

can you do sam x reader? their idea of a good night is hanging out in the library reading and it drives dean bonkers that they never go out. Thank you! I love your work!

Dean left the Bunker three hours ago to blow off some steam since the hunt they just got off of was exhausting mentally and physically. Dean wanted to bring his brother around but Sam said he was going to do something with you, and that’s also part of the reason why he left the Bunker.

He didn’t want to hear you two fucking.

He came back to complete silence. Maybe you two wore each other out and went to bed. However, when he walked in to the library, that’s not the case even in the slightest.

You and Sam are seated at the library with mounds of books around you two. You’re so comfortable that you have your feet in Sam’s lap and he is reading while absentmindedly rubbing your feet with his other hand.

Complete silence. Just you two minding your own fucking business reading God knows whatever kinds of books they have in here.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You and Sam snap your head to Dean in confusion. “This is what you did to blow off steam?”

“You’re back already? Did you just leave?” you ask.

“That was three fucking hours ago.”

“Wow, I didn’t even realize,” Sam laughs.

“This isn’t funny, Sam. You two never go out. It drives me up a fucking wall that all you do all day is sit in here and read.”

“So? You unwind how you want to and leave us to unwind how we want to. It’s that simple Dean. Not everyone is into booze, chicks, and rock music.”

Dean’s mouth goes agape as he tries to figure out what to say to your response. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish before storming off to his room, probably to do two out of those three things.

“I love getting on his nerves,” Sam snickers.

“It is fun, isn’t it?” you smile.

Then, you two go right back to reading as if you were never interrupted in the first place.

[theupsidedownsrealestateagent]

Have Kids They Said

(1989)

After spending most of their adolescences trying to survive and saving the world a handful of times the not so young anymore kids decided that it was time to blow off some steam, and for once in their lives at least act their ages, even if it was only for one night.

“I don’t know Mike, this seems pretty risky and besides since when are we the type to go school parties?” Will asked cautiously, opening up the discussion to the rest of the party.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this but I agree with Wheeler. Look we’re seventeen now why shouldn’t we do something fun and stupid?” Max added.

“Okay sure, but what about our parents? There’s no way we’d be able to to convince them to let us go, especially after all the lies we had to tell over the years about where we were during actual super dangerous situations,” Lucas pointed out.

“Yes, I agree with Lucas. Hop and Joyce would not be happy,” El nodded, looking over to Will. 

“Guys, guys! I think we are forgetting our best alibi,” Dustin smirks arrogantly waiting for the rest of his friends to catch his drift. He sighs when no one knows what the hell he was talking about. “Steve and Eddie guys come on!”

They spent the rest of the night coming up with a fool proof plan. There was still a lot of doubt about this working between Will and El especially. Mike, Dustin, and Max were doing their very best to persuade their friends that this was a good idea.

***

Steve and Eddie had began officially dating after two years of mutual pining. The first year was mostly dealing with Vecna, hospitals, and recovery, all while dealing with unspoken feelings for one another and eventually falling in love. But here they stood in spite of everything. The two men were able to overcome their pasts and expectations put upon them, and fully commit to each other, and they’d tell you that they’ve never been happier.

Tonight was important to the couple. It was their first anniversary of living together, and Steve was putting in so much work to surprise Eddie with a romantic night alone at their apartment. 

After convincing Jonathan, Nancy, and Robin to not put their lives on hold and actually go to college, while the two stayed behind to make sure the kids were alright, Steve and Eddie had been a little burnt out between their day jobs and coparenting seven teenagers. Steve knew that this night was what they desperately needed in order to relax and spend some romantic, intimate time together. No kids, no monsters, just him and his hot boyfriend.

While Eddie was at work at the library, Steve had a day off from Family Video and was thankfully caught up on his community college work for the week. So he spent his free time running to the market, deep cleaning the apartment, and making dinner the best he could manage for their date. Steve wasn’t the best cook but he was getting better every day. He decided that the most romantic meal he could manage was chicken parm. Was it the most romantic? Probably not, but it was best option, and coincidentally one of Eddie’s favorites. All to be paired with Melvald’s finest selection of boxed red wine. He found some dinner table candles in a random box in storage full of miscellaneous shit he packed angrily when he finally decided to get of his parents shell of a house. 

Now to get himself ready. He styled his hair a little more carefully than usual as if that was remotely possible. Shuffling through his dresser to find those jeans that are a tad too snug just because he knows it drives his boyfriend crazy, pulling them on and smirking to himself. The top didn’t really matter so Steve just grabbed whatever dark green sweater was on top. Finally everything was ready. Steve gave himself one last look over with a smug look on his face, and went to the kitchen just to make sure the food was staying warm without drying out or overcooking. 

***

Steve was humming along to a tape labeled The Munsonington Anti Divorce Album with music they could both agree on and not want to rip the other to shreds while listening together. In the middle of the fourth song the front door swings open, “Stevie!” Eddie calls out before spotting his boyfriend in the kitchen. 

The older man shrugs his jacket off, and toes off his heavy boots leaving them by the door making his way to meet Steve who was standing, back turned while he plated their dinner. Eddie’s arms wrap around Steve’s middle, and no matter how long they're together Steve’s stomach will always flutter at Eddie’s touch. The metalhead gets close to Steve’s ear and practically purrs, “Hey baby, I’ve missed you today. Dinner looks great, but oh Stevie your ass, your ass is a work of art.”

“Jesus Eds. Listen you eat your dinner like a good boy, and maybe I’ll let you have dessert,” Steve’s blush betrays his mock annoyed eye roll.

“Oh yeah? That’s funny usually you’re my good boy” Eddie plants a kiss Steve’s crimson cheek, “And what’s for dessert anyways, Steve a la mode?” He wiggles his eye brows seductively, as he turns his partner to face him.

Rather than dignify the lewd question with a response, Steve plants a teasing kiss on the surprised man’s face, pulling away far too soon much to Eddie’s dismay. “Dinner is going to get cold,” He whispers against Eddie’s lips, smiling as he grabs both of their plates and makes his way to the romantically decorated table.

After regaining his composure Eddie follows his love. Throughout dinner he can’t help but think how fucking lucky he is. Barely three years ago, he was bleeding out from the demobat bites, thinking he was going to die before he could figure out these intense feeling he was starting to have towards Steve Harrington of all people. And now he gets to call this person his boyfriend? It wasn’t supposed to work like this. People like Eddie didn’t get to love the high school prom king, more importantly though he wasn’t supposed to have said love reciprocated in anyway. 

For the last six years Steve’s life has consisted of world ending supernatural occurrences and recovering from those same occurrences. Yet he would do it all over again because they lead him to family, best friend, and soulmate. His chosen family, that Steve would die to protect every single time, and has more than proven that fact. That being said the kids were older and needed him less and less as time goes on, the friends his age were away living their own lives. He liked to joke with Joyce that soon they would both be empty nesters. Even though he joked and made light of the situation it had been a huge transition for the overprotective babysitter. With Eddie’s help Steve was able to start relaxing and taking more time to fulfill his own needs and wants. Hence this very intimate night he painstakingly planned for him and his love.

***

The mess on the table was hastily abandoned, as soon as they stood Eddie closed in on his boyfriend his ring covered hands immediately grabbed ahold of Steve’s hair, pulling them together and connecting their mouths. Steve let out an involuntary groan, and picked the older man up. Eddie got the hint and secured his place by wrapping his legs around Steve’s lower back, never breaking their kiss. He gets carried to the sofa, Steve reluctantly pulls back, eyes shining as he takes in the flushed face of his boyfriend, “I’m so fucking in love with you Bambi.” Eddie responds with a small smile, brushing a few strands of hair behind Steve’s ear, his mouth opens to speak but it gets cut off by the shrill sound of the phone ringing. This time the groan Steve lets out is far less sexy and way more annoyed, “Do not fucking move Munson, I’ll be right back.”

“As you wish Stevie.” Eddie said breathily but still sending a cheeky wink as Steve rushes to the answer phone.

Eddie was listening to the one sided conversation and was immediately confused and worried, “Munsonington residence, Steve speaking. Oh hi Mrs. Henderson! Right sorry, Hello Claudia. Ummm he’s actually in the bathroom at the moment. Yes of course I’ll pass it along. Do you want me to have him call you back at all? Haha alright, yes you have a goodnight too. We will, thank you!” 

As the dial tone comes on Steve slams the phone back in the receiver, “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“Steve what was that, what’s going on?” Eddie asked panicked.

“Dustin told his mom that he was here with all the other kids.” Steve’s tone was cold and deadly. He rubs his face hard before coming up with a plan.

“Oh my god, could it be upside down related? What do we do?”

“No baby, it’s nothing like that, or else they would’ve come here first and it wouldn’t have been a lie to their folks. I have to go out looking for them though, before they do something dumb.” His voice thick with anger.

“No way Steve, you are way too mad to be driving, besides we have to return them alive, and I don’t trust not to strangle the life out of Dustin right now. So I’ll go out and look, while you stay here just in case they actually come around.

Steve lets out a shaky breath and nods in agreement, his face beet red, “Okay, okay you’re right. Be safe I love you, get them home baby.”

“Aye aye cap’n,’ Eddie mock saluted his boyfriend, before planting a chaste kiss on his lips, ‘Love you more sunshine.”

Grabbing his jacket, and van keys Eddie was once again out the door. His mind was racing, although now less anxious about it being another world ending disaster, still no one knowing where the kids were was a big fucking deal. He drove by all the normal stomping grounds, the arcade, the diner, hell he even drove by the school just in case. Then in the dark of night he spotted bright red hair on a road a few blocks away from the Wheeler’s house, the van’s headlights illuminating that is was indeed his ragtag group of formally good kids. 

Eddie pulls over, rolling down the passenger window, “Get in gremlins mom’s not happy.

***

The kids were drunk, well Mike and Dustin were drunk, Max and Lucas were barely tipsy, and the wonder twins were sober. When Max realized how drunk Mike and Dustin actually were, she took over as party leader and dragged them all out of the party. 

The drunkards were arguing  about nonsense, loudly slurring about some fantasy movie that even Will and Lucas couldn’t figure out what they were even referencing. Max and Lucas were in charge of Dustin, while Will and El handled a very difficult Mike. The plan of action was to sneak into Mike’s basement, and pretend to had left Steve and Eddie’s place early that morning. Well that was the plan until a familiar van pulled up next to them. They were so screwed.

***

Steve angrily cleaned the apartment, muttering to himself about always being the god damn babysitter, when the front door opened. He took one look at the group rolled his eyes, hands on his hips about to give his best mom lecture, but was cut off before he could even.

“Okay kids, mom and dad are going to bed, you know where everything is. We will talk about this in the morning so don’t get any ideas,” The metalhead spoke calmly to their adopted nuisances.

Steve was about to protest but Eddie just gently grabbed his arm and lead him to their bedroom. Once they were in the quiet of their room Eddie began to explain the situation. He gave Steve the important parts, and made sure to give credit to the ones who were at least semi responsible. It took a bit but eventually Steve was able to calm down, and he turned to wrap his arms around Eddie, pulling him close and breathing in the smell of his boyfriend’s hair.

A whisper of a voice hit Eddie’s ear, “I’m sorry I overreacted.”

Eddie let out a small chuckle turning so he could look Steve in the eyes and gently cup his face, “Oh sweetheart I promise you didn’t overreact, I just wanted to give them the night to sober up before I sic you on them in the morning. We didn’t have parents who cared where the hell we were and what we were up to so we are going to show our problem children just how much we care when you give your little speech.”

Steve let out a laugh the rest of the tension he was holding finally leaving his body. The boys tangled all of their limbs together and fell asleep peacefully.

Just as the sun was rising, Steve started the vacuum because he was petty, and it was his house despite the gaggle of children inhabiting his living room. But he wasn’t a monster so he also grabbed a bunch of water and painkillers before he started in on his kids. The lecture went down in history as Steve’s best, and scariest. From now on they told Eddie and Steve where they were going even if they couldn’t tell their actual parents.

[noremac-and-rts]

Day 1 with Star Wars: Empire at War

After finishing Ahsoka, I was eager to scratch the SW itch since the finale had aired. Since the original SW Battlefronts are not available on PS5 I turned to my computer to see what i had in my library on Steam.

Empire at War has entered the chat. RTS games are arguably my favorite style of gaming with great memories of playing the original Warcraft and Starcraft games, followed by Age of Empires 2 and 3, Star Wars Galactic Battlegrounds, Black and White and others. Typing that sentence, I can instantly hear the sound of clicking on a worker in AoE 2 or the Nerfs in Galactic Battlegrounds. Special shout out to attaching computers for LAN parties.

Empire at War, henceforth referred to as EaW, never fully gripped me. I think as a teenager it was too complicated. I wanted to just build an army and attack bases. Not being able to manage resources or plan ahead is probably why i could never play anything harder than medium when playing against the computer. But now I am a man. Am I good an managing resources and playing the long game in real life? No. Am I good at it in games? Also probably no. So as a man I take the challenge presented in EaW. Can I control an entire galaxy worth of offense and defense? May the Force be with me.

We start with a new campaign. Tutorial? Sure why not.

Tutorial 1: Basic Land

Playing from the viewpoint of the Rebels, we need to stave off a dastardly attack from the empire on Kashyyyk. Arrrrrwrrrrrronnkkk raarrh. At the start we have a comforting setup with the mini map in the corner and a command bar. The voiceover says it wont explain all the buttons, but a quick scan and you know how to use them. Two other items stand out: fog of war is present, but we can see the map and where to go. The other is no resource collecting, which will come into play later.

Our troops are ready to rock and roll. Click, grab. These motions are on autopilot. We move through the map to find other soldiers. Found, grabbed, moving on to destroy a device jamming our signal. We cross the paths of some Wookies but they run into their homes. Clearly, Chewie doesn't belong to this tribe. A soldier shouts, 'There's the device'. We dispatch it with authority and move on to the base.

As we enter the base, we are alerted about incoming Empire troops. And with a wall blocking the path to the red arrows on the map, we automatically know where our next battle will take place. I line up the troops and follow the guide for building a turret and bacta tank. More soldiers are present, some with missile launchers(Plex Troopers). Oh yeah, its all coming together. I place those behind the regular soldiers on the wall.

As a note, if you click on the Barracks nearby, there are upgrades you can pay for. Since we have been gifted a bounty of credits, of course I purchase these. More troops also appear near the barracks.

The air cold and still before battle......

'Rebel Scum' we hear. Empire troops move in and are quickly defeated after blowing up our wall. Two At-Sts move in and its time for the Plex Troopers to shine.

Its at this point, we are alerted to "Cinema Mode". Its a button that allows you to watch the action like its a movie! Pretty cool, but by the time I press it, my troops have already won. If you move the mouse, it brings you back to overhead mode.

We need to continue down the map to claim the enemy's territory and stop the invasion. Our goal is to Hold the Reinforcement Post long enough to turn it from Red(enemy) to Green (Yours) a la OG Star Wars Battlefront.

We capture both areas with ease. But, to our dismay, more Empire troops are coming, more than we can handle. We are instructed to save our forces and use the retreat button. This button will come in handy in the future so you can save your resources (troops) for future battles in stead of letting them get murdered. Fun! A 10 sec countdown starts as we await rescue.

We Win! Too easy. I'm so good at this game. I'm sure they didn't write the code to be that easy. Tune in next time for the next tutorial level.

[moononastring]

You know what? It feels like today is the right day to let myself lose my mind.

[cuttoothed]

Getting this in just under the wire for day 1 of @jonmartinweek prompt “Comfy Jumpers”. I get so much joy from writing these two in s1 and thinking “lol you idiots are going to be in love some day.”

*

Martin knows that Jon doesn’t approve of the way he dresses.

It’s not exactly a surprise. Jon doesn’t approve of much about Martin: his report-writing, his Latin translations, even his very existence seems to irk Jon at times. Frankly, the feeling is mutual. Martin was perfectly happy working in the library, where his boss wasn’t an overbearing perfectionist arsehole, and if he’d been given a choice in the matter he’d still be shelving books and updating the filing systems, not getting glared at for his clothing choices. He’s well aware that Jon never wanted him in the Archives either, but they’re here now, so Mister Head Archivist is just going to have to live with it. They’re both going to have to.

Jon isn’t subtle about his displeasure; it’s difficult to miss his pointed scowls at Martin’s scuffed trainers and graphic-print t-shirts. And considering that Sasha wears jeans and t-shirts some days as well—though admittedly she tends to plain colors or muted prints, rather than retro video game characters—it’s pretty clear that it’s less about the clothes than it is the person wearing them.

Well, Jon can scowl all he wants, because everything Martin wears technically falls within the Institute’s dress code and there’s not a word Jon can say to him.

Martin has always run hot, so as winter closes in and other people are bundling up in heavy coats and jumpers, he throws hoodies over his t-shirts and zips them up only far enough that the bright graphic prints are still clearly visible to Jon’s critical eye.

Yeah, he thinks sometimes when he walks into Jon’s office, get an eyeful of Yoshi and see how you like it.

Jon, for his part, seems determined to outlast the winter in his usual dress shirt and tweed jacket combo. Martin knows that Jon isn’t particularly warm blooded—he’s seen the way the man huddles into his jacket like a tortoise in its shell until the central heating warms the basement up in the mornings—but he still refuses to add so much as an argyle sweater vest to his outfit in deference to the season.

The only concession Jon makes to the weather is a voluminous gray overcoat and a dark purple scarf, which he takes off the moment he gets into the office, regardless of how cold it is before the ancient heating system creaks to life.

And, well, it’s none of Martin’s business if his boss is too much of a pompous arse to dress appropriately for the weather. If he wants to freeze his backside off to maintain his academic dignity, far be it from Martin to intervene. Martin doesn’t feel sorry for him, when he sees Jon blowing on his fingers to warm them up, or briskly rubbing his arms while he waits for the kettle to boil and he thinks nobody else is around. Not in the slightest.

It’s below zero on the day in December when the central heating finally gives up the ghost. Even Martin can feel the chill in the Archives this morning, keeps his hoodie zipped up all the way even when he runs into Jon in the kitchenette. Jon looks miserably cold, his shoulders hunched and his movements stiff as he makes his tea.

“Morning, Jon,” Martin says cheerfully. “Bit nippy, isn’t it?”

“Just a bit,” says Jon sardonically. Somewhere overhead, there’s a metallic clanking as the heating system starts up.

“Finally,” Jon mutters, casting his eyes upward. The pipes creak and clank some more, and there’s an odd whirring sound that Martin’s fairly sure isn’t normal, and then a long, descending groan into silence.

“Oh,” says Martin. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Bloody hell,” says Jon, and storms off to his office. A while later, he sends an email to inform them all that he’s spoken to Elias and the heating is out for the whole building, and that they should all feel free to work from home for the rest of the day if they choose. Sasha and Tim waste no time packing up, but Martin lingers, agonizing over which notes and references he should take with him. He’s never before had a job where working from home was an option, and he isn’t Tim or Sasha, isn’t someone Jon trusts and actually wanted to work with. Martin needs to make sure he gets it right.

At last he thinks he has everything he needs, but still Martin is hesitating, fiddling with the strap of his satchel. Maybe he should just check in with Jon before he leaves, make sure there isn’t anything else he needs to do. Make sure Jon knows I’m going to be working today, not just skiving off.

The door to Jon’s office is standing ajar; Martin taps on it, and pokes his head in without waiting for a response.

Jon looks up as he walks in, his expression startled. He is wearing a jumper. A chunky knit jumper in a warm maroon color, with a Christmas tree and several reindeer on the front. One of the reindeer has a red bobble for a nose. The jumper is oversized, the ends of the sleeves falling past Jon’s wrists.

It’s...incredibly cute, which is not a term that Martin ever expected to associate with his arsehole boss. Attractive, in a severe, unattainable way, sure, but not cute. Yet somehow, here they are.

“Ah, Martin,” Jon says, looking flustered. “I, uh, I thought you’d left with the others?”

“I was—I just wanted to check in with you first, make sure you didn’t need anything. You should head home too, it’s freezing in here.”

“I—I’m perfectly fine.” Jon plucks at the front of the jumper, looking embarrassed. “This is, ah, I bought this for the Institute Christmas party, but it’s surprisingly warm—and quite comfortable.”

“Oh, that’s, uh, that’s not part of your usual wardrobe then?” Martin hazards a chuckle, and to his relief, Jon huffs an amused breath. He raises a hand to adjust his glasses, but his sleeve gets in the way; he pushes both sleeves up to the elbows, and oh no, that’s even cuter.

“No, not—not usually,” he says. Martin frowns, suddenly remembering.

“You didn’t wear it at the party last week, though?”

“No, it’s—it was from the previous year, when I was in Research. It-it didn’t seem appropriate this year, being in a management role. Fortunately I still had it in a box, though I, uh, I didn’t really expect anyone to see me in it.”

Martin feels a sudden pang of something that might be sympathy. He understands how it feels, the desperate pressure to be professional, to be taken seriously, the constant second guessing of what you’re doing, whether you’re giving away something you shouldn’t. It’s hardly the same, of course: Jon’s not likely to be fired for wearing a silly jumper. But...Martin gets it.

“Actually,” he lies, “I, uh, I have to meet with Sophie up in the library later, so I’m around for the day. I was just going to go out and pick up some early lunch. Thought I’d see if you want anything?”

“Oh, ah, where are you going?” Jon asks tentatively, looking surprised at the offer.

“I was thinking of that cafe just around the corner—maybe get some soup and a sandwich?”

“That would be...very nice, actually. If you’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I did,” says Martin, and takes the ten pound note Jon offers him.

“Thank you, Martin,” says Jon, and it’s the probably the most sincere thing Martin’s ever heard him say. He finds himself smiling without meaning to.

“Not a problem.”

It’s too early for lunch, really, but Martin knows Jon never eats breakfast and he missed it himself this morning. He gets two portions of steaming tomato and basil soup and toasted cheese sandwiches from the cafe, and when he gets back, Jon’s found a small space heater to plug in, so his office is marginally warmer than the rest of the Archives. They sit on opposite sides of Jon’s desk to eat, talking about the case that Martin’s working on. It’s the first time Martin’s actually had the chance to properly discuss a case, rather than stumbling through his report while Jon watches expectantly; Jon listens, and asks questions, and even offers some helpful suggestions for Martin’s follow up. It’s...oddly nice.

(Jon also continues to look unreasonably cute in his oversized Christmas jumper, but Martin carefully ignores that.)

The heating gets fixed by early afternoon, and the Archives warm up to the point where Martin can unzip his hoodie. When he drops off his finished case report to Jon’s office, Jon is back in his shirt and jacket, the maroon jumper packed away out of sight. He looks perfectly staid and professional once again. I saw you looking cute, though, Martin thinks, and then tries to pretend he didn’t; he is not going down that route.

Jon glances up when Martin comes in, taking in the “Marvin the Martian” t-shirt that’s now visible beneath his hoodie. Instead of a disapproving scowl, however, he gives a small, hesitant smile.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says as he takes the report, and something flutters warm in Martin’s chest.

Oh no, he thinks.

[weebswrites]

Hello! You probably have a lot of requests right now so I apologize for adding on to it.

Would it be possible to request the brothers (+Solomon) comforting an MC that’s just super stressed with school and just life?

Recently, school for me has been..to say the least, mentally exhausting and there are just countless nights of crying or pulling all nighters cause I’m so behind (2nd quarter cause I started school rather late, it’s complicated). I’m so sorry for ranting about this. But yeah could I just request it to be super fluffy? If you end up writing this, thank you so much! Stay safe <3

The Demon Bros & Undatables: Comforting a Stressed MC

Lucifer

• He wasn’t sure how to comfort you when you first arrived in the devildom, but after a few weeks spending time together he picked up your comfort activities and items

• So when he heard you crying in your room late one night, a night he knew was the night before a big exam you’d been studying like crazy for, he knew what to do

• He went to the kitchen and grabbed a comfort snack and your favorite drink, stopping by his room to get a blanket that smelled like him before gently opening the door to your room

• You sniffled and wiped your face, turning to see who it was

• “Lucifer, hey. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up”

• “You didn’t, my love. Here” he wrapped the blanket over your shoulders and placed the kitchen Items on your desk, close enough for you to reach them but far enough if you couldn’t eat then you wouldn’t feel forced. He then walked to your bed and grabbed your favorite stuffed animal, placing it in your lap and kissing the top of your head

• “What can I do to help” his voice was soft, and the two of you spent the night cuddled in bed, sitting against the wall as he quizzed you on facts until you both fell asleep (he set an alarm so you wouldn’t miss your exam, don’t worry)

Mammon

• Gift-giving love language, despite his constant urge to sell your things

• So whenever you’re stressed over schoolwork, he picks up an extra shift at Hell’s Kitchen (secretly) and brings you a coffee / your energy drink of choice and a little trinket he saw that made him think of you

• Your desk has accumulated quite a pile of these little gifts, and when you look up at them it fills you with a familiar warmth that only his affection can give you

•  He has the best timing with these too, whenever you feel yourself getting overly frustrated you hear a knock at your door or see your D.D.D. screen light up with a text from him

• He also gives incredible shoulder massages? You had no idea, but when you’re hunched over one night and feel his hands straighten your back and start kneading the sore muscles in your neck you swear your soul left your body

Leviathan

• He’s a great listener and will let you vent to him any time, anywhere

• He doesn't sleep much anyway, so when you text one night that you’re coming over because you need to blow off steam he likes the message and prepares a blanket and stuffed animal for you to squeeze

• Bonus: he got a stuffed animal just for you to take your anger out on, a little bit so you wouldn’t squeeze one of his Ruri-chans, but also because he loves you

• He greets you with a hug, every time. Nights that you were especially fed up you’d collapse in his arms, crying or yelling or anything to just get the frustration out

• He holds you close and once you get it all out he whispers words of affirmation in your ear, always knowing exactly what to say to comfort you

Satan

• If anyone knows how to relax, it’s Satan

• So whenever you need to cool down you head to your favorite brother’s room (or the library. usually the library.) to seek refuge from your work

• The two of you are like soulmates, so whenever he sees you he can instantly tell how you’re feeling and what you need

• And no matter what it was, a hug or space to just be alone or literally anything, this man will get it for you

• He helps you study a lot too, the two of you worked well together so having him quiz you or help you come up with ways to remember things always made you feel more confident about what you were learning

Asmodeus

• Will draw you a warm bath whenever you’re too overworked, filling it with soap of your favorite scent and lighting a few candles for around the tub

• He gives you space if you need it, but if you want to keep studying from the comfort of the bath he’ll help you

• Unless he notices that you’re too overwhelmed and working yourself past exhaustion. Then, he bans you from studying while you’re together (which he promises won’t be long, but he always makes sure it’s long enough for you to rest)

• Pulls out all the stops to make you feel the comfort you need and deserve, even giving you a gentle scalp massage as you fight off falling asleep in the tub

Beelzebub

• Food is the way to his heart, but he understands that isn’t the same for everyone

• So he takes time to learn about what things make you happy, what things to avoid, and more

• When you drag yourself to his room late at night, exhausted from studying late and crawl under the covers with him, he knows what will help you

• He kisses the back of your head while pulling your body softly against his, and hums one of your favorite songs from the human world until you’re asleep

• You wake up the next day together, and he treats you to whatever you want for breakfast, making sure you eat enough to fuel your body for the day

Belphegor

• Knows the power of a nap better than anyone

• So when your head is falling over your textbook, he doesn’t hesitate to pick you up and carry you to bed

• “Belphie! No, I need to study. I’m good I promise” you reassure him, but the yawn that follows instantly negates everything you’d said

• “Sure, MC. Then for me, let’s nap together. It’ll be so nice” he lays you in bed and cuddles you, “all warm and comfy in bed, how can you not love this” but you can’t even respond because you’re already asleep

Diavolo

• mfer would just excuse you from the class /hj

• But if he couldn’t, he’d take you to his office and pamper you with anything you wanted

• Or if you just wanted to collapse in his bed and sleep for more hours than he thought was possible for a human to sleep, he’d absolutely let you

• Anything at all for his favorite human

Barbatos

• Knows how to comfort Diavolo, but when it comes to humans at first he doesn’t know what to do

• So you tell him what you need when you’re drained, and he remembers

• You knock on his door late one night, mid-yawn as he opens the door

• He wraps your tired body in a warm blanket, fresh from the dryer, and pulls up your comfort show. He turns on your favorite episode and snuggles next to you on the couch

• “Let me know if you need anything, MC. I’m here”

• “Thank you, Barbatos”

Solomon

• Like Levi, he’s an amazing listener. So whenever you need him to be there, he’s listening actively and making sure you know your frustrations are heard

• But he’s also good with distracting you from your studies, so sometimes you take a break to watch a movie the two of you had been meaning to watch for a while, or get lunch somewhere

• You get to pick, unless you want him to, and no matter what you do he makes sure you completely forget about the books waiting for you back home

• Lets you sleep in his room whenever you want, and most exam weeks you basically move into his room. It’s a win win situation, he gets to spend time with you and make sure you’re giving your body what it needs, and you get a home away from home to study in (and the company of your favorite human)

Simeon

• When you need a break from your studies, Simeon will read you a bit from whatever writing he’s working on

• His voice is possibly the most comforting thing in the world to you, and hearing him tell stories he’s written just for you gives you a sense of comfort that could cure anything

• If not that, then the two of you hop in bed and turn on whatever you want to watch to take your mind off your studies

• But your favorite thing to do was to tackle him into bed and cuddle, tangled together and just talking about anything and everything that wasn’t school

Luke

• You bake something together or go to the park, or anything really

• As long as it’s fun and lighthearted, and with Luke, you know he’ll bring a smile to your face and help you forget about your stress for a bit

--------------------

A/N: Thank you for sending this in anon, and dw abt ranting <3 If you ever need to get it all out feel free to send me a message or anon ask and I’ll just delete it or whatever you’d prefer. I’ve been super drained recently as well so writing this was really therapeutic :’) I hope you’re having a good day so far and that this helps you feel better

Also sorry if some of these were shorter than others, I too am struggling with burnout

[devildomimagines]

Solomon: Simeon broke the Purgatory Hall's router, so I'm borrowing your guys' router for a bit. Hope you don't mind.

How do bros react?

I'm not gonna lie, I laughed when this came in. I took this as Solomon hanging around the HOL but as I was writing I realized you might have meant Solomon taking the router so I put that in Levi’s part.

Belphegor

He probably wouldn’t notice at first.

Rudely awakened, in his opinion, by an explosion below his room in the attic.

He was going to go back to sleep but when he smelled the lingering smoke, he figured he should check it out.

Yawning, he opens the door and finds Solomon fanning a cauldron while reading through his tablet.

“Belphegor! Did I wake you? I’m sorry, there was an unexpected reaction.”

Always one to get right to the point, Belphie asks, “Why are you here?”

“MC said I could come over. Simeon broke the Purgatory Hall’s router, so I’m borrowing your guys’ for a bit. Hope you don’t mind.”

Belphie furrowed his brow and answered, “No, just keep it down or move somewhere else.” Ultimately he didn’t care as long as his naps wouldn’t be interrupted.

Beelzebub

Beel was on the way out of the kitchen and passed Solomon sitting on the couch in the common room.

He was a few steps from passing the room completely when the sight of Solomon finally registered. He took a few steps back.

Solomon giggled as Beel came back into view. “Hello~”

Beel popped a chip in his mouth as he replied, “Hi Solomon, no offense but what are you doing here?”

“No offense taken, Simeon broke the Purgatory Hall’s router, so I’m borrowing your internet for a bit. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Ah. I don’t mind.” Then a thought popped up, “Does Lucifer know you’re here?”

“MC invited me so I assumed they asked permission.”

Beel nodded, “Probably. See you.” He then headed towards his room to get ready for a run. He also doesn’t really care.

Asmodeus

“Solomon!?” Asmo gasps, “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming over!?”

Solomon sighed, “If I told you then I wouldn’t get any work done.”

“Work?” Asmo walked over and rubbed Solomon’s shoulders. Asmo scanned the papers spread over the dining room table and the website pulled up on Solomon’s laptop.

“Simeon broke the Purgatory Hall's router, so I'm borrowing your guys' router for a bit. Hope you don't mind.”

“Of course not! You’re always welcome!” Asmo smiled warmly at his pact partner.

Solomon couldn’t help smiling back, “Do you want to join us? MC should be back shortly with some snacks.”

“How can I say no to my two favorite humans?” Asmo giggled, “I’ll go grab my school bag.”

Satan

Irritation flared as he came across someone sitting in his favorite chair in the HOL’s library.

The flash of white hair had him seeing red, he was ready to rip Mammon out of the chair with force if needed.

When he stomped around to be face to face with the wrongdoer, he was taken back, “S-Solomon?”

“Oh hi Satan! Doing some reading?” Solomon gestured to the book in the blond’s hand.

“Mhm,” he hummed as he wrangled in his wrath but he couldn’t stop his next statement’s bite, “What are you doing in our library?”

“Simeon broke the Purgatory Hall's router, so I'm borrowing your guys' router a bit for research on this project. Hope you don't mind.”

Satan nodded, “That’s fine.” He resigned himself to his second favorite chair, “Simeon sure does have a penchant for breaking technology in unexplainable ways.”

“Right?” Solomon laughed and the two settled into an amiable silence.

Leviathan

30 minutes to release, Levi reminded himself. One of his favorite animes was premiering their season and series finale and he was binge watching the show to be ready. He had it timed perfectly, he’d wrap up 5 minutes before, get some water and snacks and settle in.

At 20 minutes, his TV and computer both went black. He freaked out and when they both booted up with an interrupted connection error he stormed from his room.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” Levi yelled with a pointed finger as he found Solomon packing up the router.

“Simeon broke the Purgatory Hall's router, so I'm borrowing your guys' router for a bit. Hope you don't mind.”

“I absolutely do mind!” Levi ripped the router from the bag and started plugging it back in. As it reestablished the connection, he looked at the time, 10 minutes!

“Well what am I supposed to do, MC said I could use it for a bit?” Solomon looked to Levi for answers.

Hating to cross MC and also running out of time Levi said, “I don’t know, just work on the project here? I need the internet for the release of the season finale that’s dropping…” another glance at the time, “in 5 minutes! Whatever you do, don’t unplug that router or I’ll come hunt you down.” Levi made a gesture that he was watching the sorcerer and then bolted from the room.

Mammon

He wasn’t doing anything important, just scrolling through Devilgram when the video wouldn’t load. Weird, he thought, refreshed and now his whole timeline wouldn’t load. His D.D.D. was still connected to the internet so he figured Levi was playing around with too many devices.

He pushed himself up out of bed to give the third born a piece of his mind.

On his way to Levi’s room, he found Solomon posted up in the common room. He had his laptop and tablet on the table with paperwork scattered around. It looked like he was taking a break by looking at his D.D.D. just as Mammon had been.

“So it was you, sucking up all the internet,” Mammon accosted.

Solomon jumped, he looked embarrassed to have been caught on his phone, “Hello Mammon. Simeon broke the Purgatory Hall's router, MC said I could borrow your guys' router for a bit. Hope you don't mind.”

Mammon wanted to tell Solomon to get lost but if MC had given the ok... Mammon felt conflicted and when Solomon smiled, he knew he was right where the wizard wanted him.

“Whatever! I’m heading out anyway,” Mammon grumbled and decided to head to a casino, he deserved to blow off some steam.

Lucifer

Lucifer sighed, how did I end up like this? He looked up from his office chair at Solomon typing away on his laptop.

Originally MC asked if Solomon could come over to finish his essay. He hadn’t minded as long as MC was with him, not totally trusting the sorcerer to keep his nose out of the secrets of the House of Lamentation.

Solomon had come over earlier than MC had mentioned, “Simeon broke the Purgatory Hall's router. I hope you don't mind that I’m early but I have other assignments that I need to get done.”

MC wasn’t back yet so Lucifer led him inside and to his office, offering it was a good quiet spot to focus until MC returned. The unsaid added benefit that he could keep Solomon under his watchful eye.

The next time Lucifer looked up, he caught Solomon’s gaze. He narrowed his eyes, “Were you watching me?”

“Maybe,” Solomon shrugged, “Were you watching me?”

Lucifer sighed again as he thought, when was MC going to be back?

[things-we-cant-say]

pretty little liar

Pairing: Ten x Female!Reader

Summary: In order to get your annoying ex off your back, you tell a little white lie that takes an unexpected turn.

Genre: College!AU

Warnings: Smutty smut, dirty dancing

Word Count: 4,867

A/N: Unable to withstand Ten’s power any longer, I had to start writing about him…or a version of him anyway. Hope someone out there enjoys my first dip into the ~imagines~ pond. ☺️

The party was in full swing by the time you and your best friend Amy arrived, the music so loud it could be heard down the street. It was a wonder the cops hadn’t broken it up yet but hey, the night was still young. Ducking through the arched doorway with Amy hot on your heels, you let her guide you into the foyer where you both stopped to take in the scene. The place was packed with people dancing, drinking and laughing—everyone apparently having a great time. Which was perfect for you because all you wanted to do was blow off a little steam and pretend you hadn’t spent the day fantasizing about committing the perfect murder.

You enjoyed school for the most part and you enjoyed your classes, but really you couldn’t wait for it all to just be over. Two extra years and your master’s degree in linguistics was almost within your grasp. You still weren’t one hundred percent what you planned to do with it (teaching was definitely out) but either way you were ready to dive into the real world. To no longer be stressed out about exams and papers and boring ass professors that constantly seemed to have a stain on their tie.

And to get far, far away from your stupid ex, Adam.

“Uh oh you have murder face,” Amy said as she peeped around to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shrugged. “Just in my head I guess.”

Amy hummed. “I get it. That’s why we are here though! To get fucked up and do something we regret in the morning.”

You laughed. “Guess we’re Uber-ing home.”

She grinned and grabbed your wrist, pulling you over to a table loaded with different types of alcohol. The guy ‘tending bar’ as it were winked as you two approached. “What can I get you for?”

“Something with alcohol but where we can’t taste the alcohol!” Amy exclaimed happily. “Oh! And if you’ve got any little umbrellas I’d like one of those too.”

He did finger guns and proceeded to cook something up in two red cups, sticking in two pink umbrellas when he was done. You and Amy took your drinks and after a cursory sniff, took a sip. The tequila wasn’t as strong as with a single shot but you could still detect it just not enough to make you stop drinking. Unlike Amy you didn’t plan to get completely fucked up but you weren’t going to say no to a nice buzz.

Cups in hand you migrated onto the dance floor and fell in with everyone else, bopping to the beat and scream chatting over the loud music.

“I really needed this!” Amy yelled. “Statistics is kicking my cute little ass!”

“I know what you mean!” You shouted. “But hey! Soon we’ll be done and actual jobs will be kicking our cute little asses!”

Laughing, Amy bounced up and down, sending her blonde hair flying. “Is that why you’ve been so grumpy lately? Or is it…he who shall not be named?”

With a sigh you took a big sip of your strawberry margarita. “Yeah. He keeps fucking calling me and leaving me these stupid ass messages, apologizing and shit. I’ve blocked him but he just uses someone else’s phone.”

Amy’s eyes stretched wide. “That’s like stalker behavior! Or maybe he really is sorry for what he did.”

You snorted. “Sorry for having sex with his ex in the backseat of my car? As far as I am concerned he can take his ‘sorrys’ and shove them so far up his ass they come out his mouth as safaris!”

Amy choked a little on her drink, hitting you hard on the arm in admonishment after she stopped coughing. “I hate you! I could have died!”

Her words made you smirk. “But did you? No but for real, fuck Adam. Fuck Adam and anyone who even looks like Adam!”

“Woo!” Amy threw both hands up into the air, yelping as liquid sloshed down onto her head. “Oh shit! Drink emergency I’ll be right back!”

Before you could say anything, she turned and hurried back towards the drink table. Alone in the middle of a dancing crowd, you didn’t know whether you should slink over to a corner or just keep dancing. That last thing you wanted was some random dude trying to groove with you. Of course if you decided to hold up the wall nothing would stop some random dude from trying to hit on you either. At a bit of a loss you drained the rest of your drink and did a I don’t really know anyone two step, hoping Amy would return soon.

The tequila settled nice and warm in your stomach, making you feel more at ease. Most of the people at the party were from your school but not ones you associated with on like, a daily basis. Sure you recognized a few faces from the library or cafeteria but there was no one you’d had more than a surface conversation with.

And then your eyes landed on him. Ten.

Ten was a…different sort of person altogether. He was the kinda guy CW shows thought actually existed in college, except he was very real. And very much fucking gorgeous in that unattainable way CW shows also loved. However, that sort of did him a disservice because as far as you knew, he was just a decent guy who happened to be able to do some pretty awesome things.

For example, he was an amazing dancer. The kinda dancer that just freaking mesmerized you when he moved. Had you wondering how in the hell had he taught his body to do that shit? One minute he was in total sync with everyone else and the next he was performing his solo and blowing your mind. He’d done some show a few months ago with a friend and you’d nearly flipped out of your chair watching him work. The body rolls, the attitude, the way he’d just commanded the stage…whew. Was it possible to be a fan of someone who wasn’t famous?

Then there was his art; things he designed himself or drew from memory. Art class was essentially where you’d sorta came to be acquaintances with him. You weren’t exactly good at drawing but you liked it enough that you wanted to improve, plus it helped you de-stress after particularly hard days. Ten on the other hand excelled and just like with dancing, it was interesting to watch his process. He’d described himself as a sensory artist so he wasn’t always as concerned with the end product as the professor sometimes wanted him to be. From your eye though he’d yet to create anything that wasn’t remarkable. In fact, more than once you’d wanted to ask him to design a tattoo for you, but felt it would be kinda weird. He had no idea what you were into after all. So far your conversations with him had consisted of colors and that one time he’d asked to borrow one of your brushes.

You were pretty sure he’d sold something to an art gallery.

Anyway so Ten could dance and he could draw and he could sing and he was fluent in several languages; as far as you knew the only thing he was kind of shit at was cooking. But who hadn’t set a class kitchen on fire once or twice? Or three times…

If he were an asshole—well people would probably still crush on him—you’d count that as a major flaw and want to keep your distance. But the kicker was that he could do cool things and he was nice. Dorky even especially when it came to cute animals. Was always posting pictures of himself at the animal shelter playing with the kittens and the puppies, or just acting like an idiot with friends. Yet it was that confidence that made him seem untouchable, and also made him sexy as fuck. More than once you’d fantasized about biting his Adam’s apple.

Heh.

Shaking your head, you fanned lightly at your face with both hands. Maybe stepping outside for some fresh air would be a good idea.

“Y/N!” Amy nearly tripped over her pretty sandals in her hurry to get back to you. “Weewoo weewoo weewoo!”

“Um…”

She grabbed your shoulder. “It’s a police siren! We have a code red situation here, I repeat a code red! Adam just walked in!”

“What?” You blinked and immediately looked towards the doorway, brows narrowing when you saw she was right.

Standing there in a white t-shirt in his formerly handsome glory was your ex-boyfriend, Adam. Once upon a time you’d thought the world of him; thought he was the kinda guy you could probably marry someday. The kinda guy you’d introduced your family to. Turns out he was the kind of guy that hooked up with his ex in your car repeatedly until finally being caught in the act. Sure it had been gratifying to make him and her walk home half naked but it had done nothing to quell the pain left behind. Thankfully though your pain quickly turned to anger and now you usually focused on not murdering him when he popped up. There was a lot you could forgive but cheating was firmly in the do not cross zone. Everything you’d felt for him evaporated the moment you saw him with her.

And he’d promised he was over her. Lying piece of shit, you thought to yourself.

“What the hell is he doing here?! Does he even know anyone here?” you asked with a frown.

“I dunno!” your friend said slowly. “It’s possible, big campus and all. Do you want me to help you climb out of the bathroom window?”

“Yeah my boobs aren’t fitting through one of those skinny ass windows,” you replied wryly. “Though to be honest I’m almost willing to risk it. C’mon let’s—”

It was too late. Adam spotted you like an arrow searching for its target, eyes registering shock and then elation. He reached you in three quick strides, opening his arms for a hug that he was damned crazy to expect. “Y/N. Wow you—you look amazing. I’m so glad we ran into each other.”

You huffed. “I’m not. I told you we’re over Adam. Or does me blocking your calls not get the message across?”

He exhaled deeply. “Look I know I messed up but I’m sorry. Classes were just really tough and—and Lucy and I would reminisce about old times…”

“Do I look like I give a shit? You cheated on me and we’re over.” The lie came so easily. “Besides, I’ve moved on.”

“Yeah!” Amy poked him in the chest. “She’s moved on so suck it!”

Adam arched a brow. “You’ve moved on?” He sounded skeptical and that made your blood boil. “Since when? And with who?”

You’d once heard that Hippocrates came up with the saying drastic times call for drastic measures though it wasn’t something you’d be willing to bet money on. However, standing there with your ex eying you like he just knew you were lying brought a whole new meaning to the idiom. You would one hundred percent be damned before giving him the satisfaction of gloating.

Tequila’s kicking in…

Without missing a beat, you put a hand on your hip and motioned to Ten. “Him. I’m seeing him.”

Amy made a sound like a cat having its tail stepped on while Adam gaped at you. “What? I—no. No way. You’re totally lying. I’ve seen the people he’s dated and you’re not his type at all.”

This bitch.

Twirling on your black heels, you strolled across the room to where Ten sat in an arm chair, chatting with a few of his friends. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you straddled his lap and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I know this is awkward as fuck—I’m so sorry—but if you just play along I will owe you big time. I’ll give you anything. You need a kidney? You can have a kidney.”

Ten’s friends had gone mute and as you sat back to gauge his reaction—or to possibly be thrown off of him—you bit your full bottom lip. His dark eyes were watching you calculatingly, his own lips pursed together like you were a riddle he needed to solve. Up close he was utterly breathtaking, all smooth skin and silky black hair that fell artfully across his forehead. He smelled incredible.

And then he spoke.

“There you are baby,” he said wrapping an arm around your waist. “I’ve been looking for you.”

That was when you figured you owed him your first born but it was fine. “Well, you found me. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

He chuckled. “You’re worth waiting for.”

His friends still looked confused though they didn’t have time to voice their opinions. Adam stalked over seconds later like a man on a mission. “So it’s true? You and Y/N are together?”

Ten tilted his head to the side and you saw the moment the lightbulb went off for him. “Yeah we’re together.”

Adam huffed. “Since when? For how long? Where did you two meet?”

Ten smirked. “Are you taking a survey or something?” He brushed his lips across your jaw, making you shiver. “The only thing that matters is that she’s mine. Let’s dance, Y/N.”

“I would love to,” you replied with a smile. You were also grateful he’d remembered your name.

You climbed off of his lap and took his hand, sending Adam a you thought look before pulling Ten out into the thick of the crowd. Your heart was beating a mile a minute but you felt too giddy to pay much attention to it. Plus, you knew Adam was watching you like a hawk and you didn’t want to let on how nervous you actually were. If he found out you were lying he’d never leave you alone and consider you pathetic to boot. Besides the nice buzz that was finally creeping down your spine told you everything would be fine. How could it not be?

Ten’s hands settled low on your hips and he gave you a little tug, pulling your back to his chest. You fit rather perfectly with him, his chin brushing the top of your head. Picking a rhythm in the song that thumped with bass, you began to move together. You rolled your ass against him and leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder, focusing on his breath as it ghosted across your neck. A silver of light wouldn’t have been able to get between you.

Normally you wouldn’t have dared to do something like this with a near stranger but your desire to make your ex suffer was bigger than your nerves. Besides Ten appeared to be all in on the ruse; his body twisting and curving in sync with yours, fingers on his right hand sliding up between your breasts to wrap lightly on your throat. His teeth nipped at your earlobe and you gasped. Reached around to his side to clasp his shirt for an anchor. You heard him chuckle and suddenly you were spun away from him only to be reeled back in, this time face to face.

The room felt like it was two hundred degrees. You weren’t exactly wearing much—a slinky black dress with tiny ties at the hem—but even that seemed too much. Without missing a beat though you and Ten continued to grind with one another, his thigh just barely pushed between your own. Every time you swayed forward to meet him the denim of his jeans rubbed deliciously against you, sending sparks sprinting through your veins. Both of his hands were on your ass as if helping to guide you, and as you met his gaze you couldn’t help but bite your lip at what you saw there. Desire, lust, hunger—no one had ever looked at you like that before. Like they could just devour you and still not have enough of you.

It made you feel powerful.

You grinned and wrapped an arm around his neck, fingers giving his hair a little tug. He hissed and lowered his head so that he could mouth at your bare shoulder, hands squeezing your ass so hard it nearly hurt. You weren’t sure when you started to get wet—maybe it was the moment you sat on his lap or he decided to play along with your dumb stunt—but you could tell it now. Your panties were sticking to you, your skin was on fire and it was becoming difficult to think straight. Honestly however you didn’t want to think at all, especially not if it meant not being in Ten’s orbit.

“Ten,” you whispered into the skin under his jaw.

He hummed, the sound vibrating through your body. You plastered your hand to his chest and pulled it down, nails catching on the thin material of his shirt until they were brushing along the zipper on his jeans. You gave him a quick squeeze—he was hard and straining—and he cursed loudly. Between one second and the next he was dragging you down a dimly light hallway, past kissing couples and one guy passed out drunk in the doorway of someone’s room. He swung you both into the first vacant room he came to; a lavish bathroom at the very back of the house. The door was closed with a swift thump and the lock clicked shut.

You licked your lips as he crowded you back into the counter, looking down at you with a tiny smirk. That part of your brain that yammered on about bad decisions was surprisingly quiet, so you figured it was beyond okay to pull him down for a kiss. As with most of the stuff he did, Ten was a damn good kisser. His mouth was soft and warm, his tongue playful and coaxing. He kissed you like he’d been waiting to kiss you for a long time. Until it grew deep and sensual. Until you were both panting with the need for air but neither wanting to let go of the moment.

With a gasp you tilted backwards a bit, your knees suddenly weak. “Fuck me,” you said absently.

“Can I?” Ten asked, chest heaving. “Can I fuck you?”

“God yes,” you replied, already pulling your dress up until it hitched around your waist.

Ten hooked his thumbs onto the band of your pink panties and slid them down your legs, laying them next to the sink. He looked you over with that same eye he used for his art but you could tell he liked what he saw. You grabbed his hand and brought it between your legs, spreading them wider for him. Two of his fingers slipped inside of you without any resistance to find you damp and aching, already so hot for him. He started a lazy rhythm—in and out, in and out—like he was in no hurry at all. Like he wasn’t driving you crazy all the way down to the tips of your toes.

He kept his eyes locked onto yours as he touched you, lips slightly parted like he couldn’t believe this was happening. That rang true for both of you. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d ever really be friends with Ten, let alone about to hook up with him. It was like you’d stumbled into some alternate universe.

Bringing his free hand up to your cheek, he smoothed his thumb across your lips, pressing lightly until you let him in. You sucked his thumb into your mouth and gave it a little nip, smiling when he smirked. When he deemed it wet enough, he pressed it to your clit and you moaned, your hips stuttering upward with a will of their own. He began a firm massage, working your clit this way and that, fingers still thrusting in their maddening motion. Of course he’d be great with his hands. Of course he’d be able to play your body like a finely tuned instrument.

Pressure started to build low in your stomach. “I—I’m…”

“Turn around.” Ten took a step back and made a show of sucking his fingers into his mouth, tongue darting out to lick between them like he wanted to savor every drop.

You whimpered but did as he requested, your eyes finding his in the wide silver mirror. You watched as he unzipped his pants and pushed them along with his dark colored briefs down to the floor. You hadn’t seen him pull out a condom but he had one; ripping open the packaging with his perfectly straight teeth before rolling it onto his hard cock. It was a delicious looking thing you had to admit, long and thick with a slight curve. If you’d had the time you would have gladly went to your knees for him.

A low breath shuddered out of Ten’s lungs as he pushed inside of you, his hands gripping your waist so strongly you were bound to have a few bruises later. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

It had been a while since Adam and nobody after him until now.

When he assumed you’d adjusted to the size of him, he pulled nearly out before driving back inside of you. You moaned and pushed back to meet his thrusts, feeling the pleasure shattering through you. Your breasts bounced as he moved and he reached a hand forward, tugging down the top of your dress so that he could cup one. He rolled your nipple between his fingers and pinched, bending over you so that he could bite down onto the tender skin of your shoulder. The motion sent him even deeper and you both groaned at the feeling.

“Te—Ten,” you stammered, losing your train of thought when he rolled his hips liked he did on the dance floor. “Oh fuck! Fuck!”

The picture you made in the mirror was a very erotic one; you could see every single expression on Ten’s handsome face. The utter enjoyment he was obviously finding in fucking you was written all over it; there was nowhere for it to hide. His head was tipped back, eyes fluttering closed only to pop back open so that he could watch himself shove into you over and over again. He had you up on your tip toes, nose just an inch from the mirror itself. He was always sexy but tonight that word took on a whole new meaning.

All you could do was try to give as good as you got.

You slapped a hand onto the sink to steady yourself and clenched around him, reveling in the low whine that escaped his throat. It kinda sounded like your name.

And then he was pulling all the way out, dick bouncing as he stumbled backwards. You blinked in confusion. “Wh--what’s wrong?”

Ten ran his fingers through his hair. “C’mon. I want you to ride me.”

He sat down on the closed toilet seat lid and you straddled him without a second thought, sinking down onto his dick with a full body shudder. With your dress around your waist and your breasts jiggling in his face as you bounced up and down on his cock, he traced his tongue around your nipple before lightly biting down. You tangled your fingers in his hair and panted out his name, letting out a squeak when his palm connected with your ass for a hard slap. Planting his feet on the floor, he leaned you backwards a bit as he drove into you repeatedly, eyes watching how well your pussy took him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your collarbone. “Gorgeous—you feel so good.” He bit you again, this time on the side of your neck. “So good.”

With one hand on his shoulder to brace yourself, you rose up and let yourself come down hard over and over again, feeling him pound so deep it was almost criminal. Had the music not been so loud you knew exactly what you would have heard; the sound of skin hitting skin as Ten fucked you like he owned you. Just for tonight, maybe he did.

You weren’t sure how long it went on but when you came it still managed to take you by surprise. Your body lit up like a Christmas tree from the inside out and you cried out Ten’s name, clenching around him, your nails digging into his shoulder blades. He muttered a drawn out fuuuuck and pinched your clit with this thumb and forefinger, making you jerk so hard you nearly tumbled off his lap.

“Ah! Ten!” You shouted as he kept it up. “I—no—oh god—”

Your pussy tightened around him again and he shivered, thrusts growing erratic as he came with a grunt. You trembled through a second orgasm almost in disbelief—usually the only thing that could get you off twice in a row was hidden under your bed in a shoe box.

Seconds later you flopped against him, attempting to catch your breath. He was still rolling his hips just a tiny bit, making all the too sensitive areas ping.

“Whoa,” he said breathlessly, wrapping both arms around your waist. “That was…”

You chuckled softly. “Yeah…” Chancing a look at him, you admired the way strands of his dark hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. He was glistening, shirt sticking to his chest. He smelled like hints of your perfume and you smelled like hints of his cologne. It was all so intimate.

Reluctantly you sat back and gazed at him, wondering if things were about to get awkward. But Ten just smiled and ducked his head a little, a barely there blush creeping up into his already flushed cheeks. It was so adorable you couldn’t have resisted kissing him if you tried. From the way he melted into you, he’d had the same idea.

After a few minutes of just enjoying the feel of his lips against yours, you forced yourself up off of him. Your legs shook; you had to grab the counter to keep from tripping in your heels. You could already tell you’d still feel him tomorrow and the thought made you kinda dizzy, but in a good way. Blinking at your reflection—your hair was a dark mess—you knew there was no way you’d be able to hide the love bites that adorned your skin. They stood out stark red and purple like a bruise.

Ten remained slouched on the toilet for a couple of moments before removing the condom and tossing it into the trash. He dabbed at his dick with a handful of toilet paper, and then pulled up his underwear and jeans. “So…can I ask you something?”

You fixed your dress. “Sure.”

“Who was that guy?” he inquired with a grin. “The one you obviously wanted to get away from.”

Oh shit you’d forgotten all about Adam! “Oh he—he’s my dumb ex. He jumped stupid at me and I—I wanted to show him that he’s an idiot. That I’m totally over him. I—I’m sorry for getting you involved.”

He laughed as he patted down his hair. “No complaints from my end. I think he got the message though.” Reaching behind you he handed you your panties. “Don’t wanna forget these.”

It was ridiculous to be embarrassed considering what you’d both just done, but you couldn’t help it. You took them from him and pulled them on, keeping your eyes on the ground. “Thanks… Look Ten—”

“I’m hungry,” he said interrupting you. “Have you ever had grilled dried pollack?”

“Um yeah once I think,” you replied uncertainly. “It was pretty tasty.”

Ten motioned behind him. “I know a place that makes it if you wanted to go. And…maybe afterwards we could just hang out. Talk.”

That sounded amazing. “I’d love to. But…”

He picked up on your meaning. “Y/N I sit next to you in all of our art classes. I make conversation with you for no reason. Do you really think I of all people forget my brushes? Honestly I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while but you’ve always seemed…disinterested.”

You were dumbstruck by his admission. “Me?! That’s just my face! You’re the unattainable ingénue or whatever!”

Ten chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh please the only thing standing between me and being a serious cat dad is having an apartment that allows animals. However, this conversation is pointless. You owe me and I’m collecting…if that’s okay?”

You huffed but couldn’t stop grinning. “It’s perfect.”

The walk from the bathroom to the living room had everyone staring with a few people letting out loud whistles. Adam had disappeared but Amy was there to give you a big thumbs up. You promised to call her later and then let Ten pull you outside into the warm night air, your fingers happily entwined with his.

[mx-julien]

Zane is traumatized by the Never Realm and don't you forget it fic - chapter 3/4 (chapter 4 will be the epilogue) [also read this chapter on ao3]

here's chapter 1 on tumblr and ao3

///

The kettle sings to an audience of one. He has perfect, alert posture, yet doesn't notice that the water's boiled until steam appears in his peripheral. Jumping up, in a manner a little unsettlingly fast for a person of his age, he takes the kettle off the heat and turns off the flame.

Wu decides that there are too many people awake as he pours water into three cups, letting the steam warm his face and ease the wrinkles that settle there on these kinds of mornings. It's been so disorienting that he nearly pulled out a fourth mug. Several years ago, he would have without a second thought. Now the mug with a pink snowflake and cracked handle just gathers dust in the back of the cabinet. It still comes with them whenever they move, so someone wants it here, at the very least. He procures a light wooden tray from a shelf and begins his rounds.

The floor outside his students' room creaks with every step, no matter how light. Nya's in her bed, writing something, and looks over her shoulder when he enters. She has luggage weighing her eyes down, yet smiles when he sets her cup down.

"Thanks," she places her papers face-down, so all he can make out that's on them is some very dense writing next to flowy doodles. He just barely catches the title; something about Zane, which is all he can decipher without actively staring.

"You're welcome," he sits near the foot of her bed, setting the tray on his lap, and clasps his hands together, letting the moment stretch like a cat in the sun before speaking. "When did the others go to sleep?" He looks at her directly and takes care to keep his tone more inquisitive than desperate.

Nya turns away from him, staring straight ahead at the bathroom door, "For Kai it's been all night, Cole only two-ish hours ago, and Lloyd's been out since before five, probably," she shifts, causing the pencil to fall from her lap, "Jay woke up when I did and I haven't seen Zane since he left the room eariler last night."

Wu hums, picking the tray up again, "Zane's been in the library all night, I'm afraid."

She looks back at him, cradling her cup between both hands, and absentmindedly blows on her tea. "At least he's doing something."

"Yes," he opens to the door, facing away from the forms of three sleeping ninja, "At least he is." One more stop left.

Wu gingerly steps down the stairs to the workshop. Above the door is a sign with gilded lettering proclaiming, "Dr. Julien Workshop of Destiny's Bounty II: The Second Sailing Ship with Rocket Boosters." Inside, there's moderately loud hammering, which means only four knocks are necessary before Jay stops and opens the door.

"What's- oh, thanks Master Wu!" he doesn't appear too disheveled and seems to have less oil on his hands than usual, "I was just getting kinda thirsty, how'd you know?" he smiles, taking the cup, and goes to set it on a bench near the door. It's dented, stained, and one of its legs is shorter than the rest.

"What else would us old senseis be good for, huh?" Wu steps inside, and pays attention to how Jay fumbles with his papers and nearly knocks over the cup. Absentmindedness is Jay's tell, though he's adept at concealing it. He's hiding the panic better than he has in previous years. Unfortunately, his students have had an abundance of practice.

Across the room, Pixal's using a very large stapler. She appears to be putting together a booklet with what he recognizes as one of Nya's sketches of the Land Bounty on the front page. "I thought those papers were destroyed," He stands back a few feet, just in case the contraption she's using isn't actually harmless.

She raises her head and grins, returning to her work just as quickly, "Yes, but using my text and image recognition programs, I was able to save most of the information from the original plans-" she pointedly looks at the recycling bin, which has a pile of soaked papers atop it, "Though I'm sorry to say the originals are gone for good." The last large staple goes in and Pixal grabs some tape to label the side of the papers before putting it on the old birch shelves adjacent to the window.

"That's extraordinary."

"Yes, well, all in a night's work," her voice is airy and casual, shrugging it off in a rather nonchalant manner. It's especially endearing coming from a technical genius.

Wu smiles at her, nods, and shuffles out of the workshop. He scales the steps again, this time with the tray tucked under his arm and cup in one hand, with the intent of going on deck and enjoying a morning in the clouds. However, he makes a slight detour purely out of habit. His steps carefully, as if he were a hunter worrying about tipping off a nearby rabbit, as to not disturb the room's inhabitants. Bending down slightly, he only makes out a warm yellow glow from behind the library door. Inside, feet travel from one shelf to the next, and pages are quickly flipped through before the book is shelved again and moved on from.

Wu spends the rest of the morning sitting above deck, though the only sounds he can hear are restless steps and harried turning of paper pages.

Pencil scratches slowly clear the fog from Lloyd's head. One side of his head is warm and pressing into the pillow in a way that will definitely make his hair stand on end later. The sheets he lies in have left imprints on his exposed skin, and his shirt, that usually is hanging off one shoulder, digs into his side. A pencil tip breaks and Lloyd finally decides that this must be his morning wakeup call. His muscles bend and creak in the way bridges must viscerally understand. In a feat of wonder, he flips himself over. The darkness of his eyelids is overcome with a rather blinding view of the ceiling as he blinks to clear his eyes.

"Morning, sleeping beauty." That's Nya's voice. If she's already up and working, then it might be afternoon already.

"Shoot," he groans, throwing an arm to cover his eyes, "Did I sleep in that long?"

"No, no," she's not laughing, but she definitely thinks it's funny, "I just got up early. I promise." Her bed creaks, followed by some shuffling socked feet, then shade on his right cheek. Her voice is lower now, "And be a little quieter? Cole passed out three hours ago and he'll need whatever sleep he can get."

She walks around the room some more, and after a few minutes he hears the bathroom door creak shut. Then, there's nothing to distract him but the white noise of the shower running.

Lloyd rubs the sand out of his eyes, willing them to stay open as he tenses his shoulders and pushes his torso upwards. Squinting at the clock, he can make out that it's just around 8:15. Sensei will be up. Therefore, pajamas are not allowed. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he sits, noticing that only Kai's asleep over there. Leaning so he can peer over to the adjacent cubbyholes, he spies a lump on Cole's bed and some papers on Nya's, presumably what she was writing on. He braves the chilly floor and walks over to the dresser.

By the time Nya opens the bathroom door, he's fully dressed in skinny jeans and a white graphic tee with a blushing volcano on it. He's been bending over her bed for the past few minutes, taking a peek at what she'd been so vigorously writing down before.

"Just some plans for when we finally talk to him," Lloyd straightens and notices the towel wrapped around her torso, which leaves her hair dripping onto the hardwood.

"I know, but we're not in a rush, why are you-"

As if on cue, the telltale clanging of pots and pans sound from upstairs.

She raises both eyebrows and shoos him out of the way to grab the bra that's resting near her pillow, "We need to wake up Cole now and strategize with him," Nya makes a little rotation signal with her pointer finger, so he turns to stare at the door. Her jeans zipper and belt clink occasionally as she continues, "He knows Zane's- um, new emotional tendencies the best," which was a nice way of saying 'recently unpredictable responses to concern,' "And he'll need time to figure out what to say; we can just fill in Kai and Jay right before we eat," she pauses, "Okay, I'm done."

He turns back around and goes to lean on the wall. She's wearing lighter wash jeans than him that have a few rips near the knees, a belt embroidered with Hokusai's wave that repeats every few inches, and a cropped sweater with a purple gradient that gets lighter as it approaches her shoulders. It emphasizes just how toned her arms are. Lloyd takes a moment to note that he needs to remember to join her at the gym Thursday, then veers back on topic, "Why aren't you waking up Cole?"

"I've been told that he doesn't appreciate my drill sargeant ways," she grabs a plastic case and puts her pencil inside, "You usually like waking us up, anyways."

"Not like this."

"Yes like this; you just don't like being told what to do."

"No." Yes. He won't admit that there's still some petulance left, but there absolutely is.

She tries to hide her smile and doesn't succeed so well, "Sure you don't. Anyways, my hair's so wet it'd probably drip onto his sheets." Nya goes to walk back into the bathroom, but stops midway, "Hey, wake him up now, will you? We can't get started without him."

Half an hour later and one level upstairs, every eye on the gas range is put to use. Two are on low: one with a pot of congee and the other a tall pot with a steamer inside, cooking the xiao long bao. One has a medium flame, which Zane's making dosas on at the moment, and the fourth eye has a kettle on high heat because he almost forgot to boil water for tea. The zhongzi, chopped fruit, and yogurt are already on the table, covered with plates.

There are many kinds of multitasking, and this is his favorite. Everything is under his thumb, at least, metaphorically speaking. Mechanically, he knows how to make dosas, so he lets his arms take care of it. Technically, he's keeping his eyes and ears out for the hiss of burnt sugar or squeak of hardwood. He knows exactly what's coming next.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Lloyd and Cole stepping in. From a quick glance, their movements seem less groggy and more coordinated than they usually do at this hour.

"Morning, Zane," Lloyd raises his voice slightly to be heard over all the other kitchen clatter.

"Good morning, Lloyd," he finishes stacking dosas on a plate, grabs a cover, and sets it on the table, "And Cole."

"Morning," Cole draws out the last consonant as Zane turns off three of the eyes, swiftly sets the congee and bamboo steamer in the small amount of empty space left on the table. Everything fits perfectly, as per usual. "Want any help?"

"I believe I have everything handled at the moment," he sets his hands on his hips and takes a second to give Cole a wan smile, favoring the left corner of his mouth.

The kettle takes its cue to shriek. Zane turns on his heel and shuts off the last remaining eye. "However, I would appreciate some assistance in setting the table with bowls, utensils, napkins, and cups," he eyes the tea cabinet, "If you wouldn't mind, that is."

"Of course-" Nya's standing at the main entrance, with Master Wu. The boiling water obscured the floorboards announcing their presence in the hallway. Graphite smudges on her fingers hit him like a bucket of ice water, destroying the warm cocoon of steam he'd spent the morning crafting. He must've missed some of what she'd said, since the next thing he hears is, "-lways work so hard in the morning - it's the least we can do."

Nya is a lefty, so the side of her dominant hand is always covered in pencil. The shiny, gray smudges taunt him as she walks over.

All his joints are stiff, now; there's ice between his gears. The kitchen is too cold and she's coming closer. Just like before, except he can see it and he'll be able to feel the metal cord being ripped from the back of his head. Ice glints off the cave's walls and floor. The cavern he created by abusing the scroll. Had every fang blade and mysterious temple taught him nothing? Don't mess with forces you do not understand. He's a silly boy, a foolish boy. Aspheera was right. The staff weighs his right arm down and gives him a rough feeling of soreness in his shoulder.

However, there is no cable pulling his head back. Vex might want to take him apart this time, to reprogram him. Rewriting memories is only the beginning. Program him to kill at the snap of his fing- her fingers. This is Nya. Nya's the one standing just two feet in front of him with the downturned eyebrows and pursed lips. Wait, why would she-

"Zane?" It's Cole. Further away than Nya because he's next to the door and they're in the kitchen on the Bounty. Without Vex. There's light coming through the windows above the sink. The sink with running water. The sun is warming the room and so were the eyes on the stove. He's back. He's been back, and he made breakfast, which needs to be eaten at the table, which is not set.

"Ah, yes," he scoots closer to the island, giving her a three foot berth, "I'm sorry. I might have stayed up rather late. I believe my processing is slower, as a result," he lengthens the neck strap on his apron, lifts it off, and hangs it on the hooks they have aligned on the pantry door.

"Having trouble sleeping?" Cole's at his right shoulder, chopsticks and spoons in hand. His voice is concerned, a tone he's becoming used to hearing more often.

"Yes, but it's nothing." His hastily concocted response might have made Cole all the more worried, but he's in no place to think about that right now. There's drinks to be made for the others.

There is no chatter as Zane puts on a pot of green tea, only the clinking of ceramics and silverware fills the kitchen as he measures the leaves with a white plastic scoop.

They must have noticed his behavioral changes over the past few days. He'd like to think that it's the lack of sleep they're picking up on, but, realistically, it's probably the avoidance. He's been trying to stop himself from going back to the cave with the mech and with Vex, all to no avail. No matter how many psychology or self-help books he reads, they never tell him what exactly to do. It's all so frustratingly vague. Just the previous night, he'd been searching through them and not found a single useful thing.

There were programming and robtoics books on a separate shelf, which he can look through later. Later was supposed to be last night, but he decided to reread the others in case he missed something before. Later can be tonight, or tomorrow, if need be.

Cups, bowls, napkins, and sets of silverware occupy six spots at the table, leaving two empty. It used to bother him, that he didn't need to eat, but now it's just a relief. One less thing to worry about pretending is normal.

He stands at the kitchen island, shifting his weight from foot to foot, idly watching the others, save for Sensei Wu, set out each unique personal mug. Cole and Nya have disappeared, which means they're probably fetching the others. Pixal, Jay, and Kai.

Two more of them, and Kai.

After about a minute, some of the tension in his shoulders goes away. Maybe this is something he can work through before they confront him.

Jay and Pixal walk in and take their seats, as Wu, Cole, and Lloyd have already. From Zane's place, at one head of the table, he can see everyone. Which means everyone can see him.

Jay's hands have oil residue beneath the fingernails and he has a slight burn on his wrist. He was probably assembling something before he came in.

Once seated, visual processors flit between analyzing the two ninja to his right. Years ago, when they'd first sat down in the Bounty for breakfast, Jay'd chosen the middle seat and Nya had sat to his right. Once Pixal joined, she'd taken to sitting to Jay's left in order to be next to Zane.

Lloyd starts a story about some fans that intercepted him the last time he was in the city.

When they look to him, he focuses on their ears to avoid seeing the scars and dark smudges on their faces. Did you know that the structure of the cartilage in the ear tends to be signficantly different, from person to person? If an artist wanted to, they could probably identify all of their original characters by the crests and troughs of the outer ear.

Zane adjusts his weight so he's situated perfectly in the middle of the kneeling cushion. He's hoping to keep himself together until the Smiths arrive. He'll contemplate the genetics that influence the formation of the helix, concha, and tragus while they wait for them.

Kai presses as much of his body as he can against his warm sheets. The covers fell off at some point and his calves, thighs, core, and head apparently decided that movement wasn't worth it anymore. A thick fog, mixed with the mild pain, curls around this thoughts, compelling him to leave it at that. Maybe he can sleep through the headache. They usually don't make him get out of bed unless it's anything important: he's many things, but late isn't one of them - he's got to have some virtues, after all.

Wait. The light isn't hitting his face. Is it even morning?

He cracks an eye open and starts to shut it before noticing Nya standing next to his bed. Nya, his baby sister, has despised the morning even before she knew how to spell it.

His eyes fly open and, headache be damned, he swings himself upright. The room swims in front of him and the front of his head throbs like there's something trying to get out of there.

She looks tired, yet awake; so, either he slept in or she woke up early.

"You're going to miss breakfast if you don't get up now," her throat sounds sore, from what, he couldn't say.

He nods and regrets it immediately. Things are slowly coming back. Being told to do the dishes, meeting with the three techies, and-

Zane. That's right. He's scared of them. The three of them: Jay, Nya, and Pixal. Great. Fun.

Something bursting out of his head seems preferable to getting up, now. Although, if Nya's insisting he go to breakfast, it's probably because it has something to do with Zane.

He's never been the kind of person to get dressed in real clothes before going out in a common area, so stalling isn't an option. "Yeah, Nya. I'm coming."

Kai shoves his feet into slippers, which match his pink shirt but don't do all that much for his orange and red plaid fuzzy pajama pants. He trudges over to the bedroom door.

She puts a hand on his shoulder as he's about to open it, "Hey, we're going to try to talk to Zane after breakfast."

"I figured." He cracks his neck, first on his right side, then his left. For some reason, it also makes him yawn. "Sorry, can we continue in the hallway? I might fall asleep just standing here."

Her hand slides off, "Yeah, sure. Your job is pretty easy, just-" As she crosses the threshold out of the bedroom, the smells of freshly steamed bao drift through the halls, and the siblings' footsteps quickly fall in time as they head down the hall.

Kai and Nya enter the kitchen just as Jay makes it clear he's eating with or without them. He's already peckish from welding and shaping Zane's replacement left forearm plate, which he'd just set down to let cool when Cole poked his head in to inform them that breakfast was ready.

Steam curls around the bao, framing them rather beautifully, and two of them are gone before Jay can even grab his chopsticks. He manages to get one off the top tier of the steamer and two off the second. Since each person only has a rice bowl, they can't hog but so much food at a time. They're careful to never set out plates; the last time they did, a few of them (read: Cole, Jay, Lloyd, and Nya) slept through lunch in a food coma. Reportedly, Sensei had remarked to the awake others about that saying about two pigs together eating more than on their own. All that had really come from it was some bad stomachaches and a sudden lack of plates.

A few mintues into eating, Jay comes up for air and catches the last bit of Lloyd's story about ninja fankids in Ninjago City.

"Nya," Pixal's turns her head rightwards, "Do you remember those Land Bounty plans that you said were 'ruined'?"

"Yeah?" Nya sets her hands on the table, "Did you find a way to save them?" She's perked up in her seat like an oversized meerkat.

"Well, when I was looking them over, I found that I could read them, which, of course, meant that computerized text recognition was capable of recognizing what you'd written."

"But, Pix, you're so advanced-" she leans a bit on the table so she can properly see around Jay, "That's like asking The Bounty to start work as a server farm."

"Ah, well-" she rests her forearms on the table, and seems to examine what mechanics she can see through her sheer white sleeve, "I didn't mind doing something so repetitive. It took my mind off things."

The pause is only half a second, but it's awkward. Also, that's all he needs to realize that Zane isn't even paying attention to what she's saying.

Pixal quickly begins to colorfully describe the modifications she made to her the text recognition software paired with machine learning for Nya's handwriting, specifically, and how to account for the water damage. Jay catches all of it, but his attention is now on Zane. His chair is noticably closer to Cole's, and he doesn't make eye contact with Jay no matter how often he looks over. Zane seems to be attentive to the person talking, just not their face. By the time she's done with her tale, which ends in a rather adorably dramatic reveal of the new, compiled, and restored Land Bounty notes, Zane appears as mildly interested as he was when she started.

So, Jay decides to conduct and experiment. "Pix, which stapler did you use for this?"

There: Zane's eyes were on him for just a few seconds, but they seemed to be pointedly focused at the side of his head. His hair? Maybe a frecke? Whatever it was, he's clearly on autopilot.

Pixal takes a beat and blinks, "The one you brought in from your parents." She leans forward slightly, "Kilmeade. It's red?"

"Oh, what? These weren't the staples I brought, though," he points at it, another hand going to scratch at the back of his neck. He's absolutely sure he knows what they look like.

"Oh!" She hands him the book, taps the one of the crowns, and nods, "They're new. There was a merger. Now they're called Doxin and their staples are these ones... with the little engraved dog," she takes the book back, "Though they still work on our older Kilmeade model, which is nice."

"When did you get them?"

Pixal eyes Cole for a moment, "You and Nya were out and I wanted someone to come with me to the market, so..." she shrugs, then stows Nya's notes in the bag that's slung around her chair, "This was a few years ago, I think."

"You'd know about them, Jay," Nya lifts the last bao out of the steamer, "If you helped us with inventory."

Cole shifts his gaze over to Zane only a few times during the meal, which is an improvement compared to the rest of the week. He's wearing a white linen shirt with half-inch light blue vertical stripes. The thin fabric doesn't fully obscure wires poking from the damaged panel on his left arm. His jeans are light wash. The denim, a heavier fabric, hides another injury from a tumble he took in the Never Realm before they left; the others probably don't know about it. Although Cole can't see them now that he's sat down, earlier he noticed the white socks and black Nike slides.

The ones tasked with talking and keeping up the facade of a normal morning speak over the nine chimes from the grandfather clock. Jay defends his integrity, his arms moving about, inadvertently showcasing how many oil stains you can get on a deep blue button down before it's not considered a shirt anymore. It's impressive seeing as the arms are rolled up, so Cole can't even see the various stains he's gotten on the sleeves.

Nya rolls with her boyfriend's exaggerated frustration, and plays up the annoyed coworker angle. Her damp ponytail swings to the side as she counters Jay's assertion that they'd asked him to help when he was in the middle of training. Pixal seems content to watch them, though she provides Nya an alibi whenever she wants one. Clearly, she's loving the faux drama. Somehow, that turns into a - what he assures himself is overexaggerated - retelling of how Jay had walked in on Cole hanging off the top deck of the half-finished Land Bounty after he fell through a weak wooden plank.

On the other side of the table, the arms of Wu's pale yellow robes flow in the nonexistent breeze as he lifts his cup, pretending to take casual sips despite having been on the same serving of tea for the last five minutes. His conical hat is resting on his left leg, so they can see the normally concealed black skullcap. To Wu's right is Kai, whose pink shirt has a little chest pocket with a fire emoji on it. Also, he has five zhongzi in his bowl, which must be where they disappeared to so early on into the meal. He hasn't spoken much this morning and seems to be enjoying Jay's indignation after Pixal mentions that he was the one responsible for nailing down the weak board.

Lloyd's trying to hide his smile by eating yogurt, but it doesn't work that well. Four out of ten, if Cole's being generous.

Pix would be laughing, too, if she stopped glancing at Zane every few minutes. It's strange. Outwardly, she's put together: her hair's pulled into a bun and the white shirt with long sheer sleeves would let her fit right into a legal drama. It's her muted expressions and the way she fights to smile that practically spells out "I haven't slept in over twenty-four hours." Technically, she doesn't sleep, but cooling down for the night is just as important so his point still stands.

Nya's the only one out of them that hasn't yet thrown a glance Zane's way. All that planning and writing must've taken most of the nervous energy out of her. She's handling it better than them, that's for sure.

Zane only snaps to attention after the noise dies down, "Is everyone finished?"

Kai pointedly chews on a zhongzi.

"... With getting their portions?"

He gives him a thumbs up and returns to eating.

"Well," Zane stands, and goes to collect Cole's dish.

It pains him to do it, but he pulls the bowl closer to him, which is met with wrinkled brows and pursed lips, "Zane, could you sit down? I- We, um, wanted to talk to you about what's been going on."

His shoulders slump and he stands there for a moment before more or less falling back onto his seat, breaking Cole's gaze, "I- I didn't mean to worry you- any of you. I just- It's not something I mean to do, necessarily."

"What, Zane? We can't help you if we don't know what's wrong."

Nya nods, Jay tries to meet Zane's eyes, and Pixal occupies herself by examining the empy plates. Wu's gone, as per the plan. Lloyd's gazing out the bay windows, probably at the passing clouds, and Kai is still eating. Technically, Kai's here for moral support, and, oddly, the ambient chewing is the most normal thing going on.

Zane's staring at space of table directly in front of him. Years ago, Cole realizes, there would've been a bowl there, too. Now, all he has to distract him is the pattern of wood grain beneath several layers of polyurethane.

"Zane," Jay starts, "Is it something we-"

"No-" he jerks his head up and seems slightly surprised to see Jay looking at him so earnestly, "I- It's just," Zane snaps his mouth shut.

"You don't have to tell us anything you don't want to." Kai puts his elbows on the table.

Cole doesn't see this, but can infers since he has bony elbows that make an audible noise when they collide with other objects. Instead, Cole's messing with the hem of his black jeans. They match with the Nirvana t-shirt he has on. He's messing with his clothes because his place is one of emotional support, not inquisition.

"We're here for you, Zane," Kai shifts in his seat, probably to orient himself towards Zane's end of the table, "No matter what you say, we'll try to help you through it. We just need to know what's going on," he's uncompromisingly sure. That's why it's Kai, not Lloyd, who's the vocal one. He can make anything sound true so long as he tries.

There's a sigh from his right, and Cole looks up.

Zane's eyeline is affixed to where the hanging light meets the ceiling. His shoulders tense a little, as if there is a tangible enemy that can be protected against, "It's the dreams. And the- Well, they're not visions because they're not of the future, but I got one. That is, of him, of Vex, a day or two after we got back- " his hands grip the table and he closes his eyes. His forehead creases reappear and brows draw together.

Kai props his head up on his hand, his elbow encroaching on Lloyd's place at the table, so he can get a better view of the conversation. The latter doesn't notice, of course, because he's staring, slightly wide-eyed, at Zane. They'd been chipping away at his minor case of hero worship for years, but things like this - these kinds of serious struggles - are always a little surprising to him. The three on the other side of the table are looking at each other.

Before they can comment, Cole reaches for one of Zane's hands and lowers his voice, "Hey, do you need a moment?"

He meets his eyes, and they appear to be the slightest bit glassy. Why had Dr. Julien made him so realistic? Crying, as necessary of a thing it is, can be utterly heartbreaking.

"No," he puts his other hand on Cole's, "I can make it through the explanation," Zane takes a beat before continuing, breaking eye contact and taking a drawn-out breath he absolutely does not physically need.

A few people shift in their seats, and each of them, in their own time, turn to glance at Zane.

"It's really not your fault," he quickly glances at Jay, then dejectedly looks straight ahead. "After that dream, I just- Any reminder of that kind of thing, it kind of, more or less, I guess just-" he takes some shaky breaths, and his voice shrinks to a whisper, "... scares me. The kind of things that could happen to me. That could be done to me."

Faraway ticking of the large, ornate clock echoes in the hallway. Cole counts twenty-two before Nya speaks up.

"Things that could happen to you? Like what?"

Again, Zane's eyes flit to Nya only for a second before the empty bamboo steamer captures his attention, "Well, Vex, you see, he- the only reason he was able to do that to me," he picks at a loose thread on one shirt cuff, "-was because he disconnected me from the mech in the middle of a full reboot of its systems."

Pixal hums, "So you don't want to be defenseless like that again," her tone raises as she says it, then plateaus, "Such intensive processes require turning off all sensors, exterior and interior," she eyes Zane for confirmation.

He stares at the wall to his right as he nods, thereby avoiding the gaze of anyone who might still be looking at him. Why he's embarrassed, Cole has no idea, so, to reassure him, he tightens his grip on Zane's hand for a moment.

Nya raises a hand to her mouth in realization, "That's why your memory was mostly corrupted before we got there-"

"There must've been a subconscious program that started when you tried to remember who Lloyd was," Pixal clasps her hands together, "That's probably why you didn't start to remember until they got there."

Zane turns to them, "He- I don't-" he grips Cole's hand until it nears painful, then corrects himself, taking one hand back so he can grab the side of the table again, "I don't remember everything that I, as the Ice Emperor, did. I can recall some of the things that happened after he, after Vex, mentioned that Lloyd had come to the palace, but I don't remember much before that. Is-" he looks between Pixal and Nya rather frantically, as a student flips through reference books in the library the night before their paper is due, "Why is that?"

Nya turns to Pixal, who waves a hand, deferring to Nya. The latter sighs and rubs her chin. Her hoodie strings are unequally pulled out and they swing around as she stands, walking over to Zane's seat. Crouching down in between him and Pixal, she places a hand on his and pointedly makes eye contact, which Zane returns after a few seconds, "We'll honestly probably never know," no one at the table makes a sound and Cole just barely remembers he can breathe, careful to keep his hand relaxed and stay silent as he takes a breath in, "But I think that the Emperor, whatever he was, has his memories more or less locked away right now."

Zane nods and goes to take his hand back, but Nya tightens her grip.

"Look at me," he does. "Zane. That man was never you." She slows a little and sits on each word as if she's firmly pressing each of them into his mind. "Zane, he was a tool used by Vex and corrupted by the scroll. You are, unluckily, stuck with some of his memories for the time being, but that doesn't mean you had anything to do with the things he did." She puts her other hand on top of his, "Zane, you have a conscience and morals and ethics and a heart. You would never do those things. All of us know that, okay? You need to, too."

Cole can't see all of his face from here, but there are tears dripping from Zane's chin.

"I know you're really freaked out right now, but when you feel better I can always go through - with you - and take the Emperor's memories out of you, if you would like."

Zane freezes for a moment. Bringing up the subject of memory alteration is something they'll need to avoid for the next few weeks. Though he regains his agency just a moment later, throwing both arms around her and mumbling into her hoodie, "Nya, thank you so much. Thank you- I just-" he pulls her closer, "Yes. I'd like him gone." A few seconds pass. Everyone's breathing gets quieter, careful not to break the mood. He rests his head on one of her shoulders, "Thank you."

Nya's smile is just barely visible from where she's smushing her face into Zane's neck. "Any time, Zane." She pulls him close like she usually does after an especially big scare or a risky repair. It's the most normal Zane's been around one of those three over the past week and a half.

He pulls back a little bit sooner than Cole's expecting, but the most important thing is progress. Zane sits back into his cushion, wiping tears from his face while looking down at his lap. The moment of physical touch being okay has passed.

Nya, clearly aware how much she's already pushing it, goes to sit back next to Jay.

Cole's vision is blurry, as is everyone else's around the table. However, curiously, Jay's fingers are drumming against the air, right above the table's surface.

Jay stops fidgeting, "Zane." Pixal and Nya turn to him, then glance between themselves. Lloyd eyes Cole for a moment, to see if he's just as nervous about the next stage, before straightening his spine and paying attention.

To his credit, Zane just seems curious. "Yes?" He focuses on Jay's hands.

"Your arm and others..." he motions generally to his upper half, "Need matinence-"

Zane shrinks and his hands go to fiddle with one another in his lap.

"-I'm sorry, but you'll deal with a lot worse problems if we put it off. You were gone in the Never Realm for a lot longer than we were and," he runs a hand through the red curls threatening to cover his eyes, "First Master knows how those parts have aged."

"I know," Zane meets his eyes, hesitantly, and clenches his jaw, "Is- Could you not shut me off?"

Jay breaks into a relieved smile, his eyes widening and crows feet making an appearance, "We can do repairs piece by piece, and updates can be done in parts so you don't need to reboot," he spares a glance at the other two, "We'll explain everything to you as we go, so you know what's happening as we're doing it."

"If you'd like one of us with you, too-" Lloyd looks around the table as he starts speaking, exercizing his unspoken authority, "Any of us-" he gestures to himself and the two people to his sides, "-would be glad to sit in."

Cole nods, and presumably Kai does, too, but Zane's shoulders visibly relax, so he's not paying enough attention to confirm.

Now for the part he's expecting the most resistance in. Every meal except breakfast has the rule "If you didn't cook, you clean." So Cole stands, bowl and chopsticks in hand, to collect dishes, and before Zane can protest, he puts a hand on the Kitchen Czar's shoulder, taking care to look straight at him, "Can you go with Lloyd and Jay to get that arm looked at? It's not a good match with the water."

Zane looks down at his shoes, slightly embarassed at having forgotten, and moves to stand "I guess, at the moment," he meets his gaze again, "I am a liability were I to use the sink," a very slight smile appears, and Cole barely stops himself from punching the air in celebration.

"Kai," Nya shoots her brother a look, to which he gives the universal hand wave indicating he already knows what to do, then hurries down to the workshop. Zane raises an eyebrow and pointedly looks between the hallway and Cole. He just shrugs and lets Zane turn away without telling him that she's going to grab the various repair plans from her bed before running down to the workshop.

"While Cole and the others clean up, I'll join you and Nya," Lloyd pushes some hair behind his ear, part of a constant battle to maintain an unonstructed view of the world, "That okay?"

Zane nods and walks down the hallway next to Lloyd. No one else notices, probably, but Zane unconsciously steps in time with him. Cole attempts to hide his smile by turning away from Jay and Pixal, who've begun to wash and dry the pots and pans. However, Kai, who's munching on his last zhongzi, catches him and rolls his eyes.

Just a few minutes later, they've cleared the table and are working in an efficient clear-wash-dry line. Jay's one of the few who are not squeamish about eaten food, so he clears the dishes while Cole and Kai scrub and rinse. Pixal's drying because it involves the least amount of grime and water that could get between her external plates.

"He's less scared than earlier, at least," Kai multitasks between interrupting the silence and scrubbing at a particuarly dried-down grain of rice.

"Yeah, he seems more okay with Nya than before," Jay sets a plate into the sink, trying to avoid getting water on himself and, impressively, comes away with just a few drops on his hand. He grabs a part of the steamer and peels the steamed cabbage lining off into the compost, "Though what he's okay with keeps changing, so we still have to be careful."

Pixal places the lid of the bamboo steamer into the drying rack. "He seems most insecure around me," she takes a wet bowl from Kai, which he reaches over Cole to pass her, "I wonder if my mechanical nature, in addition to my knowledge about robotics, worries him."

"He said that it's not you guys-" Cole puts another drop of dish soap onto his sponge, "-just the connections to Vex tinkering with his systems." He watches, gratified, as the dried soy sauce finally comes off the rice bowl. "So it's not you, Pix. Anything mechanical can freak him out if he thinks about it - or them - too long."

"How do you know?"

"He spaced out looking at the training robot yesterday. It wasn't hard to connect the dots when he also scooted away from me after I pulled out my phone." He shrugs, "It's a little obvious. Why- Did you not notice?"

She shakes her head, "I've been in the workshop recently, and we have to practically drag him down there on a normal day, so, no, I haven't even run into him," she puts a butter knife into its respective pile among the cutlerly, "And I would love say that a broad fear of all mechanized things and beings is comforting, but I'm afraid it really isn't."

He passes her the bowl, "Hey," turning his head to look her in the eye, "He'll come around."

She looks back at her hands, and picks up another dish towel. Her tone protests, "I know," but it's hollow.

"Would a nap help you believe it more?" Kai sets a level of the steamer on the countertop. "You didn't get much sleep, after all."

Pixal just sighs, resigned, "I figured you'd noticed."

"Hey, I only have a few of these left, then I can take over for drying," Jay walks over and puts a hand on her shoulder, "Go, take that nap," he smiles, "I can take it from here, Captain."

"Okay," she looks between the three of them, and, despite her reluctance, steps away and exits the kitchen.

"And then there were three," Kai places another part of the steamer on the informal "To Be Dried" pile.

Jay finishes cleaning off the last few bowls and goes to dry at Cole's right. After a few moments, he nudges him, "What's on your mind? You've been more quiet than usual."

"What do you mean?" Petulance isn't the best defense, but he's already a bit exhausted from confronting Zane, so sue him.

"You know," Kai elbows him.

Cole stops scrubbing, "Do you guys really want to know? We got The Talk over with, so it's not that important anymore."

"It's still bothering you, so clearly it's still important."

Jay's quick to agree and nods his assent.

"Fine," Cole's more tired than annoyed at this point, and knows they mean well. He sets the sponge and plate down so he can turn around and lean his back on the edge of the countertop, "It's frustrating, how he seems to enjoy himself and sincerely be happy," he crosses his arms, "Only to lose it all when he stiffens and zones out." Cole stares at the grout between kitchen tiles, "He can usually hide it well, but he's been awake for so long it must've worn away at his normal control."

They're silent for a few moments, just running water and squeaking of the towl against clean ceramic.

Kai, once again, is the first to speak, "Why is it that all of our nindroid friends are sleep-deprived recently?"

"Must be a trend," Jay fits another piece of the steamer into the already-crowded rack.

"Those nindroids, with their short attention spans," a smile creeps up Kai's face.

Jay rolls his eyes, but contributes nonetheless, "-and instant gratification."

"Their newfangled parts and programs."

"Those addicting software updates and hardware upgrades."

"One day, they're going to need to function on manual and they'll have no idea where to start."

This kind of back-and-forth continues for the next few minutes, even after Cole silently returns to scrubbing. It's like listening to a podcast, but free, with no ads, and you can smack someone on the back of the head if they say something particularly stupid.

Nya comes in just as they finish putting away all the silverware and dishes, "Lloyd's trying to get him to sleep now," she strolls over to the counterspace near them and leans her side against it, "I made some adjustments to try to stop the nightmares he's been having."

"How was it?" Jay goes to her side.

She idly scratches her arm, "He mostly listened to Lloyd retell that story about his fans while I welded on that plate you prefabed. It fit great, by the way." Her eyes wander around the room and brows wrinkle after a moment when she doesn't find what she's looking for, "Where-"

"Made Pix go to sleep," Kai wipes his hands on his jeans, "Did the explaining thing help?"

"Kind of? He seemed to space less, and there were only a few flinches here and there. Though it's probably best to bring him next time," she motions to Cole, who's leaning back against the edge near the sink again.

He smiles and chooses to look at a piece of cabbage on the floor tiles, "Get Lloyd to do the dishes, then."

"I wasn't the one who volunteered you to clean up," she points a finger at him, "You were the one who said, and I quote, 'Give someone else a chance- Lloyd, you could do it, if you wanted. I'll clean up!'"

Jay and Kai turn towards him, wearing twin quizzical looks.

"I just-" Cole cracks his neck and lightly sighs, "I've been the center of everything so far, and I didn't get much sleep, so I'd be kind of irritable and jumpy, which," he bends down, picking up the piece of discarded vegetable, "Isn't ideal for someone who's suppsed to be an 'emotional stabilizer,'" he drops the cabbage into the compost bin.

"I know," Nya's looking at him, "I never said it was the wrong thing, I just wanted to remind you that you were the one who opted out."

"This whole time we were complaining about Pix and Zane, and here you were-" Kai waves his hands around, feigning offense, "Their sleep-deprived triplet."

Cole scrunches his nose.

"Okay, not their sibling, their illegal circus triple-act partner."

"Much better," he deadpans.

"It would be much better if you were in bed," he pushes Cole towards the doorway, "Getting some more sleep."

"But it's nearly-"

"We'll wake you up around one, so you won't screw up your cicada rhy-"

"Circadian!" Jay yells, from somewhere next to Nya, who's probably rolling her eyes.

"Exactly, that's what I said-" he calls over his shoulder, before turning back around and continuing, "Just. Go. To. Bed." Kai emphasizes each word with a poke to Cole's back.

"Okay, okay. I'm going, I'm going." He half-heartedly pushes Kai in the chest and retreats down the hallway. Out the windows, the sun's shining through the morning clouds. It warms his face and pulls a smile out of him. Later, he can ask Zane to sit with him on the deck. It's been about a month since he's taken the time to have a proper date. If he can swing it, Jay could make them sweet iced tea with the little paper umbrellas. The fresh air could help, or, he realizes, the windiness above deck might remind him of the blizzards in Never Realm.

The team bedroom door squeaks as it opens and closes. As he strips down to his briefs, then settles into the sheets, Cole compares the risks and rewards of the things he can do for him. Eventually, he'll make a bad choice and things will slide back, freaking Zane out. But they can't get to the nice things without taking a leap or two.

Needless to say, the ceiling doesn't give him any answers, but it provides a blank, quiet setting to think.

Except- Zaneand Pixal are sleeping in here, too. He turns his head on the pillow to see across the room. Pix's bed is covered in darkness and, the second she hit the pillow, she was probably out like a light. A few beds over, though, a sliver of daylight that sneaks through the side of the blinds illuminates part of a familar head of curly whte hair. Lloyd musn't've been heading to the kitchen, that's why he didn't pass him in the hallway on the way here.

Occasional creaks fill the background, but there are no other noises filling the background. It's as quiet as the Bounty can be.

Cole smiles into his sheets, pulling them around his shoulders. Things might not be great, but they're getting closer to alright. Zane's taking a night for himself, and that's all he can ask for.

///

*crawls from grave* i'm back! sorry this took so long - when i finally was ready to sit down and write the end, i, of course, got a virus that knocked me out for a few days (no, it was not the plague), and then i realized that my only options for this chapter were to, either write it well but make it long, or have a terrible chapter cliff hanger and chop it in two. you can probably tell i went with the former. i hope you enjoy and the extra month was worth it

as for notes on the contents of the actual fic:

what are the foods i was describing in the breakfast scene? well, there are a bunch that i'll have for breakfast: 粽子 (romanized as zongzi but pronounced as zhongzi in my house - meat, vegetables, and nuts/seeds all surrounded in a sticky rice bun that's wrapped in banana leaves), 小笼包 (xiao long bao - mini steamed soup dumplings), fresh fruit, and 米粥 (which, romanized, is technically mizhou but if English is the language being spoken then we usually call it congee - rice porridge). then dosa (दोसा - lentil crepes that i'm used to having with a spicy filling that also includes potatoes) and yogurt (which may also get fresh fruit added to it) because my friend's mother feeds them to me if i end up getting there around breakfast and she finds out i've only eaten a protein bar. i just wanted to cook and eat vicariously through these characters, okay? i haven't eaten these all that much in the past year which saddens me to no end.

also yes now glacier is for sure in here i couldn't help it

finally, the epilogue can be expected in early August at the latest.

hope y'all enjoyed the update,

Laurance

[buckybabybaby]

café d'amour

A/n: my entry to @firefly-in-darkness 's challenge. Thank you for letting me enter! I left it to the last minute once again, but! This time it's not late so... fingers crossed next time I'm early xxx

Proof read with a text-speech device.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 3537

Warnings: none! :]

Plot: Maybe covering a friends shift in a city park coffee kiosk won't be too bad if it means running into a certain super soldier.

coffee-shop sort of au, fluff and more fluff.

Masterlist

*****

The machine humming quietly in the corner of the tiny hut seems to be mocking you, a constant reminder of just how out of your depth you are. People who think working in a coffee shop, or in your case, a take-out kiosk, is easy, should try it for a day and see if their opinion changes. This is so far away from your usual job, safe and warm re-shelving books in the colleges library, but a promise is a promise, so you've just got to suck it up for the next few weeks and hope you don't mess anyone’s orders up too badly.

Peter is going to owe you big time after this.

When he'd asked you to cover for him in his small business, you had agreed without properly thinking about what time of year it is, and how cold the wind can be when you're stood still in it for hours on end. Two days in and your hands have aged about ten years from the combination of frequent washing and the icy air, and the layers of thermals you've got on under your uniform fleece and matching joggers are making you look a little rounder than you actually are, you couldn't care less though as long as you are warm. The water heater provides a little warmth, leaking through to your skin if you press up against it, but you've found the best way to escape the freezing gusts is to crouch down below the counter when the queues have diminished.

That's where you are now, half heartedly straightening the packets of treats, getting distracted by the many different types of cookies and brownies, and not keeping an eye out for potential customers.

“Hello? Is this self-serve or what?”

The voice startles you, so close without warning, almost like they crept up on you. Hopping up quickly, you hover your hands under the sanitiser and rub them together as you collect yourself and prepare your speech.

“Hello! Sorry! Hello,” You start again, marginally calmer, “Welcome to-”

That's as far as you get, not even able to ask what they 'fancy today?' before the customer interrupts.

“Just a coffee. Black. No fancy milks or syrups or anything, no cakes or anything extra. Just coffee, okay?”

Finally looking up from your now dry hands, you take in the man who has placed such a blunt order. He's attractive enough, the little you can see underneath his hat, something about him familiar to you, his tone definitely one you've got used to over the past day or so, though he's not anywhere close to the rudest person you've served.

You smile pleasantly, in the disarming way you've learnt. “Okay, just coffee, got it. And a name for the cup?”

He looks around at the lack of other customers. “Is that necessary?”

Laughing self-consciously, you say, “Probably. If it gets busy I'd hate for it to get mixed up. I'm new.”

“Ah.” He tuts. “James.”

“James, cool. That'll be a few minutes.”

As you grab a pen to write his name on the sleeve of a cup, he shuffles off to the side, adjusting his hat as he does, and when his coat slips a bit down his left arm your mind goes blank. He's not paying attention to you so your staring goes unnoticed as you realise why you thought he was familiar earlier, wondering how it didn't click when he said his name, but then again wrapped up in his scarf and gloves it's not surprising. You're guessing he doesn't want to be recognised right now, hence the use of his real, less known name, so before he can catch your mild freak-out you look away and messily scribble on the side of his cup.

Even a simple order can be a struggle for you, and now, slightly flustered from serving the Winter Soldier, you make sure to double check the measurements before you start, concentrating hard to make the greatest cup of coffee he's ever had. There's a reason this kiosk has a reputation for the best hot drinks in the park and you aren't about to ruin it by messing up the order of Captain America's best friend.

Breathing a sigh of relief as you place the lid on top of the perfectly brewed coffee, you tap it against the table to get his attention. “Here you go. The machines ready.”

Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he swipes his card to pay then grabs the cup off the counter, murmurs something that could have been a 'thanks' and takes off along the dim path leading him deeper into the park.

“Well.” Huffing as you lean against the glass front of the booth, you watch his retreating form with a small frown. He wasn't anything like you thought he might. The media has built him up to be some sort of tragic figure, one to be feared and pitied in equal measure, but all you saw was yet another city dweller on a quest for caffeine.

At least now you have a story to tell from your time working in the coffee kiosk, aside from the ones about frozen fingers and half-spilt drinks.

*****

The next day he's back, around the same time in the afternoon, as the daylight is dying and the street lights are flickering into life, about an hour before closing. You're finishing up a complicated order for a group of friends when you notice him standing away from the small crowd, waiting for them to leave before he approaches.

“I want a coffee like yesterday,” He says, adding as though an after thought, “Please.”

“One black coffee?” You confirm.

He nods, watching closely as you locate the pen to write on his cup. Before you can even open the cap, he's butting in. “Why don't you have a name tag?”

You freeze, confused. Meeting his eye, you flush under the intense way he's staring you down. “Why don't I-?”

“You see, I have a very good memory, despite my age. I distinctly remember telling you my name is James, so imagine my surprise seeing my nickname written on my cup when I looked properly.”

His expression is not giving away any clues on how he feels about this invasion of privacy. Heart racing, you search for the right words to apologise, and convince him you're not some crazy stalker.

There's no chance to speak as he's continuing. “So I thought I'd come back today and find out your name, then we'd be even. But you don't have a badge on. Why not?”

“I'm so sorry,” You breathe, unsure what more you can say. “I swear I'm not a weirdo, I just recognised you yesterday and I must have written the wrong name by accident.” A beat of silence, then you propose a way to make it right, “How about free coffee for life?”

He laughs, a glorious sound in the crisp air, and your shoulders relax at the genuinely happy noise. “Aren't you new? Are you allowed to make promises like that?”

Wincing, you admit, “Probably not. But when I explain it to Peter I'm sure he'll understand.”

“Peter?”

You start working on his drink as you talk. “He owns this place. And normally works this shift, I'm only covering whilst he's away.”

“Oh.” The hissing of steam drowns out his next sentence, you only catch the last half, “-here how long?”

“Couple of weeks, maybe? Not too long hopefully. You'll have a professional barista back soon, don't worry.”

“I think you're doing fine.”

The words are spoken so softly, such a contrast from how you thought this conversation would end, and the shock has you fumbling with the finished cup of coffee, nearly spilling the scolding liquid all over your fingers.

“Careful.”

Taking the cup from you, his hand lingers against yours for a moment too long and you force yourself to stand up straighter and away from his touch. The last thing you want is to become a horrible cliché, falling for a customer after a few sweet lines.

He grabs a few napkins to wipe the cup dry, then looks expectantly at the card machine.

“I meant it, free for life,” You say, determined.

Shaking his head, he roots around in his pockets, pulling out a couple of notes and sliding them across the counter towards you. “Old fashioned money it is then. I didn't mean to come across as angry earlier, or yesterday, thinking about it. Sorry about the whole,” He waves his hand around vaguely, “Murderous vibe I give off, or whatever Sam calls it.”

He rolls his eyes fondly when talking about his team mate, and you giggle as you reassure him. “You didn't look murderous, just a bit like you might sue me.”

“Ugh.” He wrinkles his nose. “Not really my style.”

Your bank balance is thankful. “And to answer your question, I'm Y/N.”

Blowing on to the top of his drink, he takes several steps back, all whilst keeping eye contact. “Well then Y/N, I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”

“I'll be here.”

With that, Bucky waves goodbye with a wide smile, disappearing into the dusk as you wonder just how much trouble he's going to be.

*****

The kind of trouble you don't mind, you find out when you run in to him again the next day, a lot earlier than you imagined. In an attempt to keep yourself warm for the long hours stood in the open, with only a waist high counter between you and the frozen air, you've taken to walking around the park before you are due to start, so the heat generated by the exercise keeps you warm for at least a proportion of your shift.

The sunshine is deceptive this afternoon, doing nothing to raise the temperature as you wander around the edge of the lake. Lost in thought, a sudden shout from behind makes you jump.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait up.”

Turning around, you struggle to place the voice as you scan the few people also on this side of the park. None of them are even looking in your direction, let alone trying to draw your attention, and you're about to continue on your way thinking you must have misheard when a body nearly crashes into yours. This is not an image you ever thought you would see; the Winter Soldier panting to catch his breath after jogging up to you, all because you're on first name terms and not because you've suddenly turned to a life of crime.

“Bucky?”

At your bemused tone, his face drops. “Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. If you want to be alone, I can go, I just thought-”

“No! No, it's okay. I don't mind a bit of company.”

You share a smile, and he lets you take the lead back along the small track, winding its way between the trees and the water.

He breaks the silence a few meters along. “So, what do you normally do?”

“Me? Err,” You pause, trying to think of how to make yourself sound interesting to someone who spends his life side by side with superheroes and literal gods. Sighing in defeat as you conclude you're always going to be boring in comparison, you mumble, “I work in the library where I'm also a student.”

Bucky doesn't appear to think you're dull. “That's cool!” He says, like he means it. “I miss being in school.”

“So did I, so when I got the chance I went back. I'm a bit older than most of the students-”

He snorts. “I know how that feels.”

“But I'm determined to get my degree this time.”

“I'm sure you will.” He grins at you and you're inexplicably filled with hope that he's right. “And after? Do you know what you want to do once you've graduated?”

You shake your head. “Right now all I'm focused on is passing exams and submitting essays on time. I'll think about the future when it's closer.”

“That's fair. Nothing wrong with waiting to figure things out.” More reassurance from this relative stranger. You didn't know how much you needed it until just now.

“Most people say I need a ten year plan or something.”

“Most people are wrong. But,” He pauses, and you hold your breath as you anticipate his words. “Can I suggest if you go into business, maybe don't start off by offering life time free supplies at the drop of a hat?”

Two minutes in to this 'friendship' and he's already teasing you? What is going on? Turning your face away so he can't see your stupid grin at this turn of events, you really would believe this is some sort of perfect daydream if it wasn't for the all too real frozen mist clinging to your coat and the ends of your hair.

“I'll try to remember that, thanks.”

Dodging a puddle in the middle of the path, you're trying to come up with a witty retort to impress him when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

“If you need to get that-”

“Oh, no. It's only my alarm to remind me not to wander too far from work before I need to start.”

“Soon?”

“Yeah.”

“I'll walk you back, then.”

Not wanting to leave his side quite yet, you let him accompany you back through the trees, but you refuse his offer to carry you across a muddy part of the path where the stream has burst it's banks. Flushing as he laughs at your careful steps, you manage to get across without completely ruining your shoes, informing him you've learnt the hard way that these trails aren't exactly 'white trainer friendly' as the kiosk looms into view.

Relieving the worker from the morning shift, you rearrange the counter back to the way you like it before any customers turn up, watching Bucky hovering nearby until you give him a questioning look.

He clears his throat. “If I came this way the same time tomorrow, would I bump into you then?”

The hopeful look he gives you would be enough for you that, even if this walk wasn't part of your daily routine already, you would have made it so in order to see his again.

“Uh huh. Are you planning too?”

“Whenever I come with Sam, we always end up getting recognised with the way he can't keep his voice down. It's nice not having that sort of attention. So if you don't mind?”

“I don't mind.” A patron approaches and reluctantly you turn away, sending a quiet promise to your new friend. “See you tomorrow, Bucky.”

*****

The days past so fast now they're full of work, both at the kiosk and in the library, trying to study, and, most importantly, walking with Bucky every afternoon. Some days the two of you talk the whole way, conversation flowing so easily you're amazed at how honest you are, like you've never been with anyone before, and other days you walk together in relative quiet, completely comfortable in each others presence.

Falling for him is the quickest and easiest thing you've ever done. Dealing with your feelings, however, might be somewhat harder.

With the lighter evenings comes the message that Peter is finally on his way home and soon you'll be free of your second job. It feels like a bolt from the blue, to be reminded that this is only temporary and in not too long you will no longer have an excuse to see Bucky.

You mention it to him a week before your last shift.

“Isn't that good?”

“I guess.” Your reply is short and unenthusiastic, changing the subject quickly to hide how heartbroken you are.

Time moves too fast, and before you know it you're greeting him on that last day, taken aback as he presents you with a small cardboard box, which when you take it, is much heavier than it looks. “Natasha gave it to me for you. Apparently it's really good for your hands. I thought you could try it? Now you won't have to wash them constantly?”

Scanning the sides reveals that it contains a moisturiser, from some luxury brand you've never even thought to try, too far out of your price range. “Oh, this is too much, I can't take-”

“Yes you can.”

“Let me give you something-”

Gently tugging your hand back out of your bag, he stops you from grabbing your purse by enclosing his gloved fingers around yours. When he doesn't let go, instead pulling you along and down towards your now usual route, you let him, gaping at the back of his head before coming to your senses and squeezing his hand in a kind of thanks.

“This is a very kind present.”

He shrugs it off. “It's nothing. When it's your birthday or something, then I'll get you a proper present. Presents, plural,” He emphasises as your eyes widen at the thought. “Nah, this is just one of the hundreds of products Natasha gets sent in the vain hope she'll provide the companies with some free advertising. Better you have it than it go to waste.”

It still feels like a gift to you. “Well then, thank you for thinking of me.”

“Always.” The implication of that one word would have been entirely missed if it wasn't for the panicked look on Bucky's face as he corrects himself. “I... I mean, of course.”

Stopping in the middle of the path, your joined hands cause him to halt too and the atmosphere grows tense as you stare at each other, unsure where to start. The minutes haven't stopped ticking down until you're due on your last shift, and with the implication that comes with hanging over you like a dark cloud, now seems just as good a time as any to bring it up.

You hesitantly begin. “Bucky, can I say something?”

Mutely, he gestures for you to proceed.

“Right, so you know today's my last day at the kiosk, at least until Peter goes away again, so, that means I won't have a reason to walk around here any more. Or I won't, unless...”

“Unless?”

“Unless I do. Unless you still want to come around the park with me, even if it's for no more reason than simply going for a walk?”

“I'd love that.”

The relief that flows though you as he agrees is almost physical, gripping onto his hand in yours just a little tighter.

Feeling brave, you dare to push your luck. “And if it was more than just a walk?”

It takes a moment, but then you see the realisation dawning on his face, a slow smirk appearing as he takes a step into your space. “More?”

You know he knows what you mean, that he's playing with you. That doesn't soothe your doubts though, hoping beyond hope that you're not misinterpreting his teasing.

“Yeah. More.”

Letting go of your hand in order to bring one arm around your waist and pull you closer, your own come to rest against his lapels as he dips his head down.

“I think I'd like more,” He whispers.

You swallow as his gaze slips to your mouth, sinking in his embrace as his lips brush against yours, so soft and brief it barely registers,

Moving back to put a bit of room between the two of you, his thumb brushes over the corner of your mouth as you pout sadly.

“You can have another one once you've finished tonight. Maybe. Or maybe you'll have to wait until after our date tomorrow.”

You frown. “Tomorrow?”

“Yep. If you're free?”

“Always.” Repeating his earlier phrase with a sly smile, you turn around to continue along the track, leaving him speechless for a second before he rushes to fall into step.

His arm slides through yours. “So, is it okay to wait for you tonight?”

“You've just kissed me and you're still asking that?”

“I'm just checking.” When you don't answer he presses, “Is it? I don't want to impose.”

'Too late for my heart', you think but don't say, not wanting to scare him off, instead nodding in reply and leaning into his side as you wind your way through the woodland path. The fear you had felt this morning at potentially having to say goodbye to Bucky feels like a distant memory, and as you watch the sunlight dance across his hair you realise you could never have let today be the last. You started this job reluctantly and now, instead of Peter owing you for the favour, it seems you owe him.

Peter doesn't needs to know just yet, you decide.

That usually particularly muddy part of the path has become even muddier after the overnight rain, and this time you allow him to pick you up in his arms and carry you across, feeling its finally appropriate now your relationship has changed. Setting you down on the other side, he presses a kiss to your forehead almost absent-mindedly, and your tummy does a flip as you take a second or two to admire his profile.

You sigh happily. So much for not becoming a cliché.

*****

Thank you for reading!! Masterlist

[walviemort]

Fairy Godfather, part 1

Summary: The fairies have asked a monumental favor of Killian: be the surrogate for their babies—all nine of them. He's been pregnant before, but this? This is a whole other level. What has he gotten himself into? And just how big will he get?

A/N: As usual, the muse has gone off and done whatever it wants to do, rather than, y'know, work on a WIP. Alas. The idea for this came about when I sent @sancocnutclub​ this picture of a woman who was supposedly pregnant with 10 babies; it has since come out as a hoax, but dang—her BUMP. Subsequent doodling and headcanoning brought about this story (also partly inspired by a conversation with SherlockianWhovian a while back), and here we are! I should note that this also takes place after a couple of past one-shots, which can be found here and here. Hope you like it!

rated T / 3k words / AO3

Of all the requests put in front of Killian in his long life, this was by far the oddest.

“You want me...to carry babies...for how many of you?” he asked, trying to wrap his head around the query.

“Nine,” Blue answered matter-of-factly. “Normally, it wouldn’t be so many, but we’re past due for a brood. There was just no one around who we thought could handle it.”

“And he can?” Emma was at his side in the booth at Granny’s, where Blue and Tink had requested to meet with them. Their daughter, Hope, was sitting in the high chair at the end of the table, making a mess of some oatmeal. 

“It helps if they’ve given birth before,” Tink replied. Well, he had done that—not intentionally, but he had been the one to carry and birth Hope, who was 10 months old now.

And while it had ended up being a beautiful experience, he obviously had reservations. “Yes, but that was only one baby—and you genuinely think I can handle nine?”

“We do,” Blue confirmed. “And we’d obviously provide as much help as we can.”

“It also wouldn’t be like a normal human pregnancy,” Tink added. “No morning sickness or cravings, or anything like that.”

“No, I’d just be massive,” he sighed; memories of his own perceived whale-like proportions toward the end of his pregnancy with Hope were still fresh; this had potential to put that to shame.

“Well, fairy newborns are smaller than the average human infant—less than 4 pounds. But yes, you would go full term.” Blue was awfully clinical in her statements.

Killian glanced down at his midsection, which had yet to fully regain its previous flatness, and he doubted it ever would. Especially not if he agreed to this. “I’m really your only option?” he asked again. “What about David?”

“It’s too soon,” Blue answered. David gave birth a couple months prior to their daughter Ruth, and as promised, Killian was at his side. However, he’d had to have a C-section, which slowed his recovery a bit compared to Killian’s. “And it must be done at the upcoming winter solstice, or we’ll have to wait another few years.”

Killian was about to suggest that until Tink jumped in. “Plus, you kind of still owe us for the whole hat thing.”

“That was the Dark One and you know it,” Emma snapped back, but they both knew Killian still harbored a fair amount of guilt over that. It was a low blow on their part, but not undeserved. 

She most likely saw the acceptance in his eyes when they exchanged a glance, but he also saw she wasn’t quite there. “Does it really have to be a guy?” she enquired, turning back to the fairies. “I mean, there are lots of women here who meet your criteria, too.”

“It does,” they said simultaneously, though Tink at least looked somewhat apologetic. 

Emma was ready to protest again, but he put his hand over hers on the table and told her with a look that it was okay. She reclined in her seat while he turned back to the pair. “I’ll agree, but with one condition: you’ll have to help pick up my slack—around town and at home,” he said evenly. He was sure he’d get to a point when it wasn’t feasible for him to continue as deputy, or at the library, or even keep up with Hope, who was dangerously close to walking. 

“Actually, one more,” Emma added. “He’s not on the hook for any, like, actual fatherhood, right? You won’t be coming after him for child support or anything?”

“No, he's simply the surrogate,” Blue confirmed. 

“And we’ll definitely help out—whatever you need,” Tink added. 

Emma gave him a tentative but supportive look. “Then I’ll do it,” he told them. 

“Excellent,” Blue stated with less enthusiasm than he expected. “We’ll send you more information soon, but the most important thing is to be at the convent next Saturday. Green,” she then turned to Tink, “come; we have much to do to prepare.” (Which was a polite way of asking her to slide out of the booth first.)

Tink rolled her eyes and stood up. “I’ll text you,” she said, and the two flitted out of the diner.

Killian and Emma were silent for a long moment after they left, other than making sure some oatmeal actually ended up in Hope’s mouth. 

Emma started to clean up the baby and then said, “I know it’s too late now, but are you sure about this?”

“Not entirely,” he confessed, “but they were right—I do owe them.”

“You don’t,” Emma said matter-of-factly, “even though I know you think you do.” She wiped the mess off Hope’s face. “But if this will finally relieve some of that guilt, then I get it, and I’ll support you.”

“Thank you, love,” he sighed, and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m going to need it, I think.”

“Oh, you are,” she said wryly. “And you should probably start planning how you’ll tell my dad.”

“Bloody hell,” he cursed, then dragged a hand down his face. “He’s going to be relentless.” What had been playful ribbing during their respective pregnancies was likely about to be amplified. 

“Maybe you can talk to Belle? See if she knows anything on what to expect? Pun not intended.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” he agreed, then followed Emma as she slipped out of the booth. He pulled Hope from the high chair and settled her in his left arm, then grabbed her diaper bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Guess we’ll pick her brain now. See you later.” They kissed farewell and headed off to their respective jobs that day—Emma at the station, Killian at the library, where he’d taken something of an assistant librarian position (and could keep an eye on Hope and her “cousin” Gideon in between reshelving and assisting patrons).

Belle was surprised when he told him about the morning’s turn of events, but then got an almost academic excitement. “I can’t say I know much about their physiology, and I didn’t know this about their reproduction, but let’s see if we have anything.”

She dove into research while he took care of normal library functions, but by midday, didn’t have much to show for it. 

“They’re so secretive! Obviously their existence is documented, and there’s mention of someone other than Blue being in charge at some point in the past, and that their young mature faster than average, but that’s it. What did they tell you?”

“Not much,” he answered, relaying what little he’d been told. “But they did call it a ‘brood’, so it sounds like multiples are common. Just not quite so many.”

“Do you think they’d let me take notes?” she wondered. “It’s not like there's any research journals on magical beings I could submit a paper to, but more for my own study.” 

“If they don’t let you, I won’t do it,” he commented. “Do you still have everything from last time?” She’d done quite a bit of documentation on his first pregnancy, considering it was the product of a misunderstood spell.

“Of course; David’s, too.” Then she laughed. “Of all the things I imagined becoming an expert in, magical male pregnancy was not one of them.”

“Someone had to,” he countered.

“That’s true!”

---------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the week was fairly uneventful, save for a text from Tink telling them when to arrive at the convent, and to make sure he ate lots of greens and wore something comfortable (which he took to mean stretchy). And they assented to Belle’s presence, too, which didn’t change anything but did make him feel more at ease.

David was something between amused and horrified about what Killian had agreed to, but ultimately glad they hadn’t asked him.

The afternoon of the solstice, before they headed to the convent, Belle took some notes and measurements of Killian as a baseline for her study—and honestly, he was kind of glad, if the proportions on this were going to be as overlarge as he expected. “How big do they make those maternity pants?” he asked Emma as Belle was making note of his waist size (not significantly larger than it used to be, he was at least proud to say). 

Emma’s eyes grew large. “I don’t know; I think the fairies are gonna have to help with that one.”

“Let’s hope that’s a ways off, then,” he settled. 

They dropped Hope off at Snow and David’s on their way to the convent, where they were greeted by Blue herself. She ushered them in without a word, and a couple other fairies were there to gather their belongings, before Blue guided them further into the building. Killian was both surprised and not to see that they were all in their traditional attire, though he was a bit shocked that they were all still large and not the miniscule size they were known for. Belle had had a similar question a few days ago; they’d ask at some point. 

They were led into a large, candlelit room, where Tink suddenly appeared in front of him. “Drink this,” she commanded, holding a mug of steaming liquid, “and take off your shirt.”

“Is that necessary?” he asked as he took the mug.

“I mean, I already know what’s under there, so I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t,” she countered with a wink.

He complied with a sigh. The drink was a potion of some sort, he gathered almost immediately; a warm, tingly feeling took over his body as he drank it, eventually settling in his stomach, which made sense. Weirdly, though, when he removed his tshirt, there was a slight glow under the skin of his abdomen. (Belle was off to the side, furiously taking notes; Emma was next to her, trying to keep a straight face and surreptitiously taking pictures.)

Blue was watching a clock, and when it struck a seemingly random time—the peak of the solstice—she began chanting in a tongue he didn’t quite recognize, with others gradually joining in and forming a circle around him. The glow under his skin got brighter, especially in his midsection, although he didn’t feel any different—yet.

“Human,” Blue finally addressed him. “You have agreed to be the vessel for our young. Do you promise to protect them with your life, and care for them until they are ready to join our world?”

“I...yes,” he answered, as confidently as he could manage. “I will.”

Blue continued briefly in the foreign tongue, as did the others. “Now, let the gravidation commence.”

One of the fairies approached him with her hands cupped as the rest continued to chant; she was dressed all in pink, and he thought he’d seen her spending time with Grumpy on occasion. As she got closer, he saw a small ball of pink light pulsing her palm that she was murmuring to, until she was close enough to touch him. 

And she did, guiding the ball of light toward his navel and then—it disappeared inside him as she pressed her hands against his stomach. He felt a small twinge inside as it settled within, but no pain—just a spark. The glow from his midsection briefly took on a pinkish hue, but then returned to the white color it had been emanating.

Each of the nine fairies did the same thing, one by one. He did wonder how it was decided who would be reproducing, given that there were far more than nine fairies present, but that was another question for a later date. They appeared before him in all colors of the spectrum—purple, seafoam, navy, yellow, fuschia—and then Tiger Lily’s deep orange joined the array of hues, followed by Tink’s bright green.

Blue was the last to approach, and her orb seemed to be the biggest of them all, which he supposed was no surprise. However, her hands lingered on his abdomen and she continued to chant, the intensity and volume increasing as everyone’s voices joined in.

He suddenly felt a slight cramp within—still nothing painful, but like his insides were being gently rearranged, which they probably were. Then his stomach glowed brighter, casting all the colors of the fairies whose offspring he was now carrying around the room.

“Gods above, watch over this man; let he be exalted among the fairies, and let no harm befall him nor our bairns,” Blue called out with a sense of finality.

The glow grew brighter, until it was too bright for him to look at, but then was gone in a flash. The fairies gave a collective hum that seemed to resolve the ceremony, and then began to file out of the room, although Tink approached and wrapped him in a soft robe.

He felt...he wasn’t sure. Content, at the very least, but also like he might float away were it not for the sensation of a weight within him holding him down. His hand drifted to his midsection, and if he wasn’t mistaken, it was ever so slightly rounder than it was before he arrived; with nine babies in there, he supposed that made sense. He couldn’t feel any sensations of kicking yet, but it was probably too early—and honestly, he still kind of tingled all over. The analytical side of him wondered where they would be considered in their development relative to a human fetus—and if they’d even show up on an ultrasound.

“How are you doing, Captain?” Blue was still in front of him, but in the afterglow (literally) of the spell, he’d lost sense of anything else around him.

“I’m good,” he answered. “Possibly too good.”

Blue gave a small, knowing smile. “That tends to happen. Come, let’s sit; you must have more questions.” She gestured toward the door the fairies had exited out of and then moved toward it herself, expecting him to follow.

Emma was suddenly at his side, and Belle not far behind. “You okay?” she asked, brow furrowed in concern.

“I seem to be,” he replied. “Have I ever told you how bloody beautiful you are?”

She grinned, amused. “Many times. What was in that cup?”

“Potion of some sort,” he shrugged as she started pushing him in the direction of the door. “Why?”

“Seemed like some really potent potables,” she quipped. Yeah, he did feel a little drunk.

He somehow ended up on a very plush couch, with Emma on one side and Belle on the other, sitting across from Blue, Tink, and Tiger Lily. Someone gave him a glass of water, and there was food on a coffee table, but he wasn’t much hungry. 

Honestly, he was mostly fascinated with the stained glass windows in the room, and with inspecting whatever was going on in his stomach, until he did hear Belle ask a pertinent question:

“So why men?”

“Well, we’re all women,” Blue answered. “It does take two.”

“But I thought you said he was just a surrogate,” Emma countered. “Are these actually his babies? Because we didn’t agree to that.”

“No, they’re not; I suppose in modern terms, you’d say that we reproduce asexually. But nature still seems to demand the involvement of a man and a woman. So that’s why a willing male carries the brood.”

“Are there always so many?” Belle asked.

“No; usually only 4 or 5. But no one was available at the last solstice.”

Killian didn’t really pay attention to the next several questions regarding fairy reproduction—he’d read Belle’s notes later when he was a bit more focused—but he did eventually get to interject one of his own: “Why are you big right now, though? And why aren’t the babies going to be tiny?”

The fairies chuckled—he supposed his statement wasn’t as coherent as it sounded in his head—but still replied. “Shrinking is an acquired skill,” Tink said. “That’s why we weren’t small when we didn’t have our powers,” she explained, nodding at Tiger Lily. 

“But once we learn, it’s our preferred size,” Blue added. “It’s easier to do our job then.”

That made sense. 

“So, what else can he expect,” Emma asked. “I know you said it’d be different, but how much?”

“Well, the size, obviously—and you will still gain weight to support that,” Blue explained. “Increased appetite is to be expected, but no cravings or anything like that.”

“Your hormones will be altered, similar to a normal pregnancy,” Tiger Lily added. “But that just helps the body prepare for birth.”

“Bloody hell, what will that be like?” he wondered aloud. 

“Nowhere near as difficult,” Blue laughed. 

“Wait—if my hormones are affected…” He trailed off, remembering how much those threw him for a loop last time—particularly, certain desires. “I can still have sex, right?”

Emma covered her face with her hands at his blunt question, but it was important. 

“Of course,” Blue said plainly. “Do whatever you need to—within reason, of course.”

“Although, don’t forget—you’ll be at least twice as big as last time,” Tink reminded. “At least. That might make it harder.”

More difficult, maybe, but it hadn’t altered either person’s desires the last time around. He turned to give Emma (what he thought was) a salacious look, but she just burst into giggles. 

“Just—listen to your body,” Blue finally said. “For everything: rest, food, activity. The spell you drank will last the whole pregnancy and keep things going. We trust you, though.”

“I’ll guard them with my life,” he said, suddenly emotional, covering his stomach with his hand. 

“Aaaand there’s the hormones,” Emma commented. “Come on; let’s get you home.”

He was suddenly very sleepy. “Aye; that’s a good idea.”

“Yes, he’s going to be tired the next couple of days,” Blue added. “But otherwise—see you in 40 weeks.”

Emma wrapped her arm around him, said goodbye, and poofed them straight back to their bedroom. He was nearly asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but had one last thing to ask Emma.

“You’ll still find me sexy when I’ve got a big, huge belly, right?”

She kissed his forehead. “Incredibly so. Sleep tight.”

------------------------------------------------------

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[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Approaching Countdown.”

Had to write this at work today, so sorry it is short. 

The GA chairwoman stood in the oppressive muggy heart of Earth. She really hated it, it made her skin itch and her eyes sting, there wasn’t enough water in their atmosphere to actually cause her any harm, but there was definitely enough of it to make her very uncomfortable. A part of her had hoped that it might rain, forcing her to stay off world for the weather formation, but these humans knew what they were doing and had scheduled the launch for a cloudless day.

She looked up at the yellow earth sun and sighed. The humans had been very excited to invite the GA delegations out to view the launch. Humans were generally very excited to show anyone they could their dangerous past, and looking at the thing that was passing for a spaceship, she could not see how it would get more than a few inches off the ground, much less out of orbit. Supposedly they had dipped into very rare rocket fuel reserves to even do this as it required fossil fuel.

Fossil Fuel!

Let that sink in for a moment.

Liquified dead plant and animal remains mixed with liquid oxygen and some sort of oxidizer. She wasn’t sure what that last part meant, she wasn’t a rocket scientist. She sighed again, personally she wished she didn’t have to be here, for she doubted the launch was going to go as the human expected. In all reality her nerves were shot and she wished that she could just pass out for the next few hours and forget where she was. Everything was out of her hands anyway. Her orders had been given and now all she could do was wait.

She stood in the heat not too distant from her array of human bodyguards,dressed in dark suits and wearing dark glasses to cover their eyes. Somehow they managed to look more intimidating than normal humans did frowning, missing the characteristic tooty smile she had grown to associate with humans.

Shehad spent far too much time with Admiral Vir it seemed.

She sighed at the thought of him and shook her head.

Every time she tried to think about something else, it just circled back around to him. She tried not to think about it, taking a very deep breath.

There was some shuffling behind her and she turned slowly on her knuckles feeling the concrete grinding below her hands as she did. Two Tesraki and one other Rundi stood behind her having been let through by the human guards, who still eyed them with some measure of suspicion.

“Everything is in place, Chancellor.”

She nodded her head once.

“How many?”

There are at least thirty patrolling the borders of the trajectory zone. They will know as soon as he breaches orbit.

“And our engineers?”

“We are having trouble gaining access, but we are still working on it.”

“You better hope that we can.”

She lifted her head towards the sky where she could see the faint line of the moon against the blueness of the sky.

“We better hope.”

***

Captain Richard’s palms were very sweaty. He tried to wipe them discreetly on his pants or more accurately a onesie the scientists were calling a “Liquid Cooling and Ventilation Garment. So like a Onesie with tubes in it. He glanced sidelong over to where Admiral Vir was sitting staring at the antique space suit equipment laid out before them. 

He tried not to make it look like he was staring, but he totally was.

Admiral Vir wasn’t much older than him, maybe by a year or two, but that was part of what made being in the same room with him so strange. Every time he, or probably anyone, though of an admiral, they generally thought of some stuffy grey haired fat guy who sat behind a desk and gave orders. But…. this guy…. Well he was nothing like that at all. He was young and stupidly fit, and sure he had some white hair appearing at his temples, but his hair was blond enough you only noticed it in certain light.

And he was very personable, that was the first thing Richards had noticed.

The man knew how to work a room. He was funny, and despite being intimidated by his status, he found himself forgetting constantly that this guy wasn’t someone cool he had just met out at the bar. 

As if he could sense someone looking at him, Admiral Vir turned around theappriture of his mechanical eye adjusting slightly. He grinned in a very un-admiral way, “This is so friggin awesome.” The man looked like he was about to jump out of his boots, “Just look at this stuff-” He grinned some more dancing from one foot to the other, “Happiest damn day of my life and I’m wearing a diaper.”

That got the rest of the shuttle crew laughing which then devolved into a discussion about the pros and cons of diapers versus the new suit catheters. There was a surprising split on the discussion as the group of men talked, a conversation that was only broken as a group of scientists stepped in to help them with their suits. The process was rather tedious, the suits were bulky and cumbersome, nothing like the neat, sleek and comfortable suits used on regular ships.

Stepping into the pants of the suit they had to hold their arms up as the upper portion was lowered into place over their heads while others hurried in to pull on their arms and then help them fit into the gloves. He ducked his head as the communications cap was placed over his head. They would be wearing the full suit into orbit, though they would be allowed to take it off on the journey over. A journey which would take roughly three days or more to complete. One of them would stay in orbit while Admiral Vir and Richards himself took the lunar module down to the surface.

It was all supposed to go very smoothly from here.

Once suited up he couldn’t help but be reminded of when he was a child ready to go sledding with his siblings, in his massive snow pants and puffy jacket, waddling across the floor with his arms held out to either side.

He honestly hoped he looked cooler than he felt.

Admiral Vir might have been able to pull it off if he wasn’t nearly skipping, which seemed pretty improbable in the massive ass snowman suit.

Glancing out the long windows and into the horizon, he could see crowds of people set up in the distance. Head was a teenager when the Enterprise Launched, standing in an awed crowd as the massive behemoth hauled herself into the sky. He remembered the thrill, and he remembered the fear as he watched it go higher and higher and higher.

He remembered that day as one that led him to where he was now, and couldn’t believe it.

***

 The UN president stood at her lectern feeling a soft breeze blow through her hair. Today was a good day, or at least it was shaping up to be a good day. She had two folders sitting under the lectern like she always did during times like this. One of them was green and one of them was red.

The red one was sitting on top.

She glanced over to where the GA president stood and scowled slightly. She had always thought the little creature was kind of ugly looking like an ant. She had never liked bugs, or bug like things of any kind, which she found to be a common trait among aliens, Drev, Vrul, Gibb, Rundi, Burg.

She looked up at the sky neck stretched out sunning herself in the bright morning.

She could see the rocket in the distance held up on its platform. Admiral Vir would be moving into place now. Most people would see this only as some sort of historical recreation act, but PR analytics suggested that, if the Admiral succeeded, approval rating in the GA would go up almost 3 percent. Human and alien relations had been rockier than most people would like to admit. If Admiral Vir were to fail, the failure would likely shock the aliens senseless, and if he died. It could completely break down human/alien relations for the foreseeable future.

They were on the cusp of cooperation or war, and any single event could push them in that direction.

Relations might have already broken down if it wasn’t for Admiral Vir.

The president reached down a hand brushing the tips of her fingers over the red folder.

***

Jade examined the rocket from the inside of her decontaminated engineer’s suit. She was busy going over final checks before the craft was launched. Personally she thought it was a bad idea. There was no reason to go and do something so dumb when they had perfectly viable technologies available at their fingertips. Of course, she understood the value and importance of major historical events, but that didn’t mean they had to reenact them. I mean it's not like anyone ever wanted toreinaced the titanic or the Berlin wall, or burning down the library of Alexandria, but for some reason some yahoos wanted to strap themselves to a rocket inside a tin can and fly into space.

Using the same EXACT design from TWO THOUSAND years ago.

Might as well start using steam locomotives to get around.

She inched her way along the scaffolding catwalk  just a few hundred feet in the air. She didn’t mind heights, butcher wasn’t stupid, and would enver risk herself unecissarily. She examined the bolts holding the ship together passing a critical eye over each and every one of them. If just a single one of them got loose, it might potentially pull the whole panel off. If that happened, the launch trajectory might destabilize and they could begin to spin into the ground and explode.

Off in the distance she heard an alarm calling her down from above.

She would need to leave soon, and so tucked her clipboard under one arm and began to climb down one of the ladders towards the distant ground.

It was then that she noticed something strange. She didn’t know why she noticed it, it was so small, and she was in a hurry but…. There was something…. Strange. She glanced over and squinted towards the strange reflection.

The siren continued to blare.

She should really go.

She started to descend but then.

“You might want to check that again.”

She nearly leaped out of her skin at the voice turning on the spot and pitching ackwards with wide open eyes nearly falling over the rail as she came face to face with a porcelain white face and wide black eyes like pools of onyx. For a second she almost screamed assuming she had gone insane, but then paused as she saw the figure floating before her a gravity belt around it’s waist, and hundreds of white ribbons streaming from it’s back.

A starborn!

She had seen a documentary mentioning them, even with a few images, so she knew who it was. She also knew that they could read minds.

It wasn’t supposed to be able to speak, but this one was wearing translation gloves, and spoke sign language rather fluently.

“You might want to check again.” It repeated

“But I-”

“The Admiral is expecting an attempt on his life, and the best way to do it would be to sabotage the shuttle. You will want to help me because if the Admiral dies, my daughter will be very upset.”

She opened her mouth then closed it, not sure how to respond but eventually turned back to the shuttle and leaned forward pointing to the side of the rocket, “That, right there, can you float over and take a look. The creature floated past her, billowing like smoke as he eased over. He pointed, “This?”

“Yes.”

He touched it.

“Can you feel it/” She wondered.

“It doesn't feel like the rest of the ship though I cannot say how.”

“Keep looking around, I need to call in-”

��NO!”

She frowned hand halfway to her mic.

“Don’t tell them, we don’t want them to know that we have found anything.

She wasn’t so sure about that, but she didn’t feel like pissing this thing off, so reached to her mic, “Mission control this is Engineering, i'll need a postpone on the launch while I finish off my checklist. This is taking longer than I anticipated.”

“Roger that.” mission control responded.

The sirens stopped a moment later as she urged the Starborn forward to prod at the spot. There wasa soft peeling noise, and after a moment, she watched as the creature came away with a strip of tape.

He floated over to her and she examined it. That shouldn’t have been there, this was not the heat resistant sort of tape they used, and it certainly wasn’t something they would have bothered to put on the outside of a ship. The only thing it seemed to do was match the paint color.

She leaned forward glancing at the side of the shi. If this had gone up during exit it would have burned off, and that would reveal. 

The loose bolt underneath. Just like she feared.

She could fix it and ordered the starborn to do so following the instructions in her head. After that she ordered him to take her vest camera and fly around the outside of the rocket. She had noticed based on the way the light interacted with the tape as compared to the finish of the rocket’s exterior. 

If only she had someone who was good at distinguishing subtle color, and then she remembered.

She called the starborn back.

“Go, get a Drev and hurry back here. I’ll try to stall them.”

[iwritesickfic]

"i kinda have a crush"

synopsis: Henry has a crush on his roommate's best friend Tom. When he gets sick, he's not sure whether Tom's concern means he feels the same.

Henry doesn't have time for a cold. Especially not now. Finals start next week, and between studying for exams, finishing final projects, and going to class, pretty much all his time is going to be occupied. Today, he woke up with a headache and a sore throat, which he's trying to convince himself is just a product of poor sleep, but deep down he knows is just the beginning of something worse to come.

Now, he's in his room, wrapped in his comforter and highlighting passages in his bio textbook, hearing his roommate Sam and his loud friends watching something equally loud in the living room. It's useless trying to ask them to quiet down - he learned after the sixth or seventh time asking that even though they all seem accommodating, they forget pretty quickly. Normally he'd be able to tune them out, but his steadily worsening headache is making it near impossible.

He gets up and starts pulling on clothes - the walk to the library may be freezing, but at least he'll get some quiet. Leaving his room, he's aware of how pissed off he must look, but he doesn't care enough to feign politeness to Sam and his friends.

He heads to the kitchen and grabs his travel mug - he's going to need coffee if he's going to last at the library. He's just filling it up when he hears a voice behind him.

"Hey! Henry! I didn't know you were home!" It's Tom. He's probably Sam's best friend - at the very least, he's the friend who's over more than anyone else. Henry suppresses a sigh. Tom is the exact kind of guy he doesn't like. Bro-y, athletic, always overly friendly to everyone - it just comes off as phony. It also just so happens that guys like this are always very attractive, and Tom is no exception. He turns around to grab milk from the fridge.

"Hey," he says, trying not to sound as annoyed as he feels.

"If I knew you were here I would've been a little quieter - you have finals coming up too, right?" Tom asks, leaning against the door frame in that way he always does.

"Mmhmm. It's fine. I'm going to the library." Talking to Tom is not helping the throbbing in his head. He starts to add the sugar and milk to his coffee.

"Are you sure? I can ask the guys to quiet down."

"No, it's fine." He snaps the cover onto his coffee and starts toward the door.

"Alright, well have a good day!"

"Thanks, you too." When he closes the front door he sighs, rubbing his eyes. He starts down the stairs. Being around people like that is exhausting on a normal day - Henry's always been quiet. Reserved. With the beginnings of a cold it's almost aggravating.

The frigid air outside makes his throat burn and his eyes water. His nose starts to run too, and he hopes it's just the temperature and not a new symptom. Knowing his luck he's going to be the one annoying person in the library constantly sniffling.

His time at the library is mostly uneventful, apart from going through a pack of travel tissues and getting dirty looks from other students. By the time they're ready to close, he feels significantly worse than he did this morning, but he's finished his biology review and is almost done with a paper for Transformative Design.

The trudge home feels like it takes forever - it's only about a 15 minute walk, but between the cold and feeling like crap it seems neverending. He can hear from the hallway outside the apartment that Sam's friends are still here, which makes him want to tear his hair out.

It's almost midnight when they leave, so it's only about that time he can get to sleep. He has class the next morning at 8, and when he wakes up with his alarm, he knows he's in for a full blown cold. His head still aches, and his sinuses feel sore and swollen. His throat kills too, and he feels shivery, despite the heavy comforter.

He lets himself lie in bed for a while, sniffling and trying to absorb as much warmth as he can from the comforter, before he drags himself up. He immediately pulls on his warmest sweater, even though he's just going to the bathroom. It doesn't help the shivering much, but it's something. He probably looks ridiculous, in just a pair of boxers and his oversized sweater, but he feels so shitty he doesn't really care.

Walking by the couch, he sees Tom asleep, shirtless. His heart flutters - he knew Tom was fit but it was something else to see it. The butterflies are almost annoying. There a million guys on campus, why does he have to get so worked up over this one?

In the shower, he cranks up the heat and lets the steam ease the aching in his sinuses. He's in there for too long, but the thought of having to actually walk to class in the cold makes him reluctant to get out.

He arrives to class a few minutes late - nose still dripping from the cold. Luckily today is just a lecture, but it's a five hour class, and he didn't have time to make any coffee this morning. He brought another little travel pack of tissues, but he's definitely going to have to ration them.

He's still shivering. It's worse after being out in the cold, and even though it should get better over time, nothing changes. He just sits there, achy and shivering and congested and miserable until 10:30, when the professor calls for a 10 minute break. Thank god. He needs coffee. There's a small shop in the building, so he forces himself up and out of his seat - which leads to a few seconds of particularly bad throbbing in his head - and out into the hall.

He almost groans when he sees who's working. Tom. Of course he's been to this little coffee spot a million times and he knows it's where Tom works, but he didn't think he'd have to see him this morning. Part of him is annoyed - he definitely does not have the energy to deal with him at the moment - but another part is a little embarrassed at how awful he must look. Not that he should care what Tom thinks of him, he reminds himself. Regardless, he walks up the counter, half occupied rubbing at his nose with a tissue.

"Hey," he says, and is surprised how congested he sounds. Tom turns, eyes lighting up.

"Hey!" He dims a little when he takes in his full appearance. "You ok?" Henry sniffles.

"Yeah. Fine. Can I get-"

"Large hot coffee, oat milk and sugar, right?" Henry's taken aback.

"Uh, yeah. You know my order?"

"Of course. It's an easy order." He goes about starting to make the drink. "Hope we didn't keep you up last night. I kept telling Sam to shut the fuck up but he doesn't listen to me."

"It's fine. I'm used to it." He sniffles again.

"You sound like you're coming down with something."

"And you sound like my mom." That makes Tom laugh, and again, Henry feels a stirring in his chest. Tom puts the lid on the drink and hands it to him, and Henry tries to hand him the money. Tom shakes his head.

"That's ok - on the house." That draws a little smile out of Henry. Tom smiles back, and for a minute he forgets how shitty he feels. "I hope you feel better."

"Thanks."

He heads back to class and sits down, taking a sip of the coffee. It tastes great, as always when Tom makes it, and the warmth helps to ease the chills at least somewhat. The rest of the lecture is spent half paying attention, and half worrying his sniffling and nose blowing is annoying. When it's finally over, he wants nothing more than to just go home and take a nap, but he has a problem set for calculus due tomorrow that he hasn't even started. So, reluctantly, he makes the trek to the library. He's able to work for most of the day uninterrupted - he's not very hungry, which maybe should be concerning but is convenient nonetheless.

By the time he's done, it's already dark out, and the walk home is brutal. The wind is whipping, and his scarf and hat aren't doing much to keep the cold out. His nose is running like a faucet and the cough he developed over the course of the day drags the cold air even further into his lungs. The coughs hurt, like they come from somewhere deep in his chest, and by the time he gets home his throat is destroyed.

When he gets home, he's glad to see Sam isn't making a racket for once. Still, he knows he's in for a restless night anyway. He puts a can of soup on the stove to heat up while he changes into sweatpants and a hoodie. His reflection in the mirror is definitely a sight - he's flushed from the cold, his hair a mess, and his eyes red rimmed.

He knows he should really fit in some more studying before he calls it a night, but after he picks at his soup and does the dishes, he's ready to fall over, so he just curls up in bed, coughing and shivery, and goes to sleep.

He wakes up a few times in the night coughing, and the soreness in his throat makes his eyes water. He's barely able to drag himself out of bed the next morning. His shivers have become more like shakes, and his cough feels like it never stops. He got a decent amount of sleep, but he still feels totally exhausted - even his muscles are sore.

His classes are a blur - he's too preoccupied with feeling awful to focus, and by the time he's done at 6, all he wants to do is go home and sleep until tomorrow morning. But, he knows he has to get at least one assignment done. After tomorrow, he'll have the whole weekend to relax. Not totally, but still.

Just the assignment tonight, classes tomorrow, then he can finally get some rest. The library probably isn't a good choice - his cough is too distracting, and he knows the walk home later will be torture. So instead, he goes back to the apartment. The cold air always exacerbates the cough, so the whole way home he's hacking, his nose running like a faucet. His ribs have started to hurt from all the coughing.

He almost wants to cry when he gets home and hears the sound of Sam and his friends in the living room. Why tonight of all nights? He trudges into his bedroom and changes - he's started to feel warm, which is a relief after feeling so cold all the time, but now it's becoming a both too warm and too cold feeling, so he tugs on his sweater and a fresh pair of boxers.

He starts to work on the physics problem set - there are only three problems total, but each of them usually take an hour at least, and that's when he's not feeling like death. He works for a while, but it's only when he starts to feel lightheaded he realizes he hasn't eaten yet today.

So, he heads into the kitchen and rummages around for a can of chicken noodle. He finds it, but he's too weak and shaky to work the can open right. He tries for a good three minutes before he feels a lump form in his throat.

"Hey, do you want some help with that?" He turns to see Tom standing in the doorway. Self consciously, he sniffles and clears his throat.

"Uh, y-yeah, that would be great." Tom smiles softly and walks over, making quick work of the can. Henry expects him to just go back into the living room, but he grabs the pot from the cabinet and turns on the stove.

"You've got quite a cough there." Henry feels himself blush. They all must be able to hear him from his room.

“Sorry, I-”

“Hey, no, no don’t be sorry. We make enough noise, you’re allowed to be sick.” He pours the soup into the pot and starts to grab spices from the shelf.

“I’m not sick.” Henry isn’t sure why he’s being so defensive, but Tom doesn’t challenge him, just smirks.

“Well whatever it is, it sounds brutal.” He shakes a few of the spices into the soup, stirring slowly.

“I’m ok. Really.” There’s a bit of an awkward silence before someone calls Tom from the other room. He looks a little dismayed, but puts on a smile.

“Feel better, ok?” He rests his arm on Henry’s upper arm, giving him a soft smile, before heading back into the living room. And there’s that fluttering in his chest again.

On his way back to his room, he catches a bit of a conversation.

“I think we should go out.” That’s Tom’s voice.

“Nah dude, it’s freezing.” That’s Sam.

“C’mon, let’s go. It’ll be fine.”

“Alright, whatever.”

Henry smiles to himself. Maybe it’s reaching to think Tom did that specifically for him, but part of him really hopes he did.

The rest of the night is blissfully quiet, apart from his incessant cough. By the time he’s finished with the last problem, it’s midnight, and the world is swimming. He’s never been happier to lie down. But, it’s short lived. Despite being exhausted, his cough and what he suspects is a fever are making it all but impossible to sleep. He drifts in and out of half-sleep, sometimes too hot, sometimes too cold. Luckily his class isn’t until the afternoon, but he spends the whole morning much like the night before. When he finally gets up, he feels truly ready to fall over. His headache is horrendous, throbbing and pounding at the slightest provocation. His sinuses are still swollen, along with his poor throat that makes him wince with every swallow. The cough is the same if not a little worse, except now it sends cramping pain through his ribs.

On the walk to class, he just keeps repeating the same idea in his head. Just three hours, then you can rest. The class is truly a blur, but the walk home is too unpleasant to tune out. Once again, the freezing temperature isn’t any help, and forcing his aching body to walk through the snow gets harder with every step.

He turns the corner for the front door of his building, and a wave of relief washes over him. But, he’s confused when he sees someone standing near the buzzer. He’s even more confused when he realizes it’s Tom.

“Hey, uh, Sam isn’t here. He’s gone for the weekend.” He says, embarrassed at how thready and weak his voice sounds. Tom turns, looking confused.

“Why are you out here? It’s freezing.” He says, and Henry isn’t sure whether it’s the fever that’s keeping him from putting the dots together or this just doesn’t make sense.

“Sam isn’t upstairs,” he repeats, and Tom sighs gently.

“I’m not here to see Sam.” It still isn’t clicking. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

“Ok…” He unlocks the door and clumsily shakes the snow off his boots before getting into the elevator. Tom follows, and Henry figures someone else must be in the building that Tom wants to see, but Tom follows him right to the door. Henry sighs and rubs his eyes. “Tom, what do you want?”

For the first time, it looks like Tom might actually be nervous.

“I came to check up on you.” Henry suddenly feels a strange bundle of emotions unfurl in his stomach.

“Oh,” is all he can manage to get out. Tom bites his lip.

“Is that ok?”

“Yeah! Yeah, it’s fine, uh…” He takes a deep breath, but breaks into a fit of coughs before he can speak. He feels a steady hand on his back. After he’s done with the fit the world swims, and there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go inside so you can sit down, ok?” Henry just nods, and after a few moments of struggling to fit the key into the lock, Tom does it for him. Immediately, he strips off his scarf and coat and practically collapses onto the couch, pulling off his boots. He leans back into the cushions, closing his eyes.

“Fuck…” he breathes, and he hears Tom laugh quietly. When he opens his eyes, he sees Tom sitting in front of him on the coffee table, still looking nervous. “Why would you wanna check on me?”

“Well you didn’t seem so good last night, and I wanted to make sure you were ok. Even though you hate my guts,” he says with a smile. He starts to rummage through his backpack, and pulls out a bottle of tylenol and a thermometer, as well as a quart container of soup.

“I don’t hate your guts,” Henry says quietly, and Tom gives him another smile.

“Well that’s good to hear.” He leans forward and starts to move his palm toward his forehead, but hesitates. “Is this ok?” Henry nods, and sighs when he feels the cool palm on his overheated skin. He moves his hand to his cheek. “Jesus, you’re really burning up.”

He lets out another volley of coughs, and Tom rubs his back again. It feels nice, but it doesn’t make the confusion go away. For now though, he’s happy to just be looked after.

“Here.” Tom slips the thermometer under his tongue, brushing some of his hair away from his face. When it beeps, he takes it out. “102. Not so bad.” Henry has a feeling he’s saying that more for his benefit than his own. “You want me to grab you some more comfortable clothes?” Henry just nods, and Tom smiles in return. “Alright.”

He gets up and walks into the bedroom, leaving Henry alone on the couch, finally giving him a moment to process all of this. Why on earth would Tom care about him? They’re not really friends, are they? And Tom was straight, wasn’t he? And even if he wasn’t, there’s no way he’d actually like Henry of all people. And did Henry even like him? Sure, he’s sweet and funny and impossibly hot, but he’s friends with Sam. And he’s on the soccer team. And he’s so outgoing and friendly all the time, wouldn’t that get annoying?

He almost doesn’t notice when Tom gets back.

“Here you go. You want me to go in the kitchen while you change?” He hands him the clothes, and Henry bites his lip.

“If you want to.” Is that a weird answer? Tom smirks.

“I’m fine if you’re fine.”

Henry starts to take off his shirt, but he’s so shaky and uncoordinated, Tom has to help him, which probably killed any romance the situation offered, he thinks. The clean fabric feels nice against his feverish skin. The pants go the same way, and he didn’t realize how uncomfortable he was until now.

“Here, lean your head back,” Tom says, and he does. Tom presses a cool, damp cloth to his forehead, and he sighs softly. “That feels good?” He nods. There’s a few moments of silence while he just relaxes into the feeling. Then, he sits up straight.

“Why are you doing all this?” Tom looks nervous again.

“You’re my...friend. And I care about you,” he says, and Henry feels his heart sink a little.

“Oh. Ok.” He must sound disappointed, because Tom smiles.

“Hoping for a different answer?” Henry shrugs, and Tom rubs his jaw.

“I mean, it’s a little embarrassing but I used to...have a crush on you. But I think you made it kind of clear you weren’t interested.” Henry can’t hide his confusion.

“I made it clear?” He’s genuinely not sure what Tom is talking about. Sure, he’s never out right flirted with him, but he always thought he was straight anyway.

“Just...one word answers to everything, always seeming like you had somewhere else to be - it’s fine. I don’t know why I even brought it up. You want some soup?” Henry just nods, and Tom smiles. “Ok, sounds good.”

He heads into the kitchen, and Henry’s mind runs a mile a minute. There’s no way he’s telling the truth right? But why would he lie? He comes back through the doorway and leans against the frame.

“It’s on the stove, just have to wait a few minutes. You feeling ok?”

“Yeah, uh...I wanna tell you something.” Henry doesn’t know how he can make leaning against a doorframe look so good.

“Shoot.”

“I kinda had a crush on you too. Or...have.” He can feel himself blushing. Tom laughs.

“You have a really funny way of showing it.” He’s beaming, and it makes Henry smile too.

“Well it’s not my fault you’re so annoying,” he says, and Tom walks back over to the coffee table and sits down. Tom’s hand rests on his forehead, then makes its way down to his cheek. It feels so steady. Stable.

“I’m not the one that got themself sick with pneumonia because I wouldn’t miss a class, am I?” Without thinking, Henry wraps his arms around him as tight as he can - which isn’t very tight, but still. He buries his face in the crook of his neck and takes a deep breath. Tom rubs his back gently.

“Thank you, for doing all this,” he whispers, and Tom squeezes him a little bit tighter.

“Anytime.”

[inkedwarrior]

Blue Ocean - Chapter Two

AN: Chapter two is here, it got quite long, but I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Saul Silva x reader

You’re standing there, staring at him. His smile reaches his eyes, lifting one eyebrow. Shaking your head, you clear your throat and takes his hand. The spark that goes through your body when your hands wrap around each other has both of you taking a step back. You look down at your joined hands and up towards his face again. The smile has been wiped off his face and his brows are furrowed, looking deep in thought.

”Eh, well, I’m sorry for staring, it’s just that you caught me off guard,” you let go of his hand and immediately a chill forms in your gut. His face says it all, he’s also feeling whatever this is. You both stand there awkwardly, waiting for the other to say something. Now it’s him that seems at a loss for words.

”Y/N, hey, there you are! I’ve been looking for you,” Farah interrupts the moment and you turn around to see her and the rest of her friends standing behind you. A blonde boy you haven’t seen before is with them and you guess that it is Andreas, seeing as Saul is standing in front of you.

”Oh, great, you’ve met Saul,” she comes up to your side and nudges you in the side. Sauls eyes is quickly moving between you and Farah and you can see the cogs turning in his head. You roll your shoulders and look down at the ground again. By now, the rest of the group has joined you, forming a half circle in the corner of the room.

”So, um wait, you’re Y/N? Farah's sister?”, Saul directs his question at Farah and she smiles widely and wraps her arm around your shoulders. ”Yes Saul, this is my sister. My little sister, let that be a reminder to you both,” she says, looking both Saul and Andreas in the eyes. Saul smiles again but this time, it doesn’t reach his eyes like it did before. Andreas straightens up from the wall he’s leaning against and crosses his arms over his broad chest.

”What’s that suppose too mean?”, he says and levels Farah with glare. Ben sighs and pushes Andreas back slightly, as if preventing him from saying something else.

”What she means is that you flirt with just about anyone and everything, and I think that she would like it if you didn’t flirt with her sister,” Rose laughs and shares a smile with Luna who rolls her eyes at the scene in front of her. You, on the other hand, can feel the blush creeping up your cheeks and you shrug Farah’s arm of off you. She barely notices seeing as she’s busy giving Andreas a lecture on manners. He protests Ben’s and Farah’s words, Rose and Luna quickly agreeing with your sister. Andreas scowls at them and mutters something under his breath.

But you only have eyes for Saul. He’s looking at you again and you suddenly want to feel whatever it was that you felt when you touched his hand for the first time. The look in his eyes tells you the same thing but once again, Farah interrupts you.

”Alright, now that this discussion is over, how about we get something to drink?”, Saul is quick to break eye contact, moving to stand between Andreas and Ben. A wise choice seeing as the boys are moments away from starting a slap fight. You notice that Rose and Luna has left the group, already heading towards the refreshment table on the other side of the room. Farah turns to you and repeats her question and you nod, unable to say anything. Directing a punch towards Andreas arm, she pulls you past the boys and you trail after, silently. You turn around once more, looking in Sauls direction but he’s still busy shoving the other two boys.

”What was that over there?”, Rose’s question startles you out of your thoughts. You smile at her and cock you head. ”What do you mean?”, you curiously asks. Luna lets out a short laugh and your sister do the same.

”What she means, what we all mean, is what did we interrupt?”, Luna gives you a vague gesture towards the other side of the room. You feel the blush returning to your cheeks and you curse your inability to control your emotions at the moment. Farah crosses her arms over her chest, looking at you with something you can’t exactly pinpoint.

”You didn’t interrupt anything, I just happened to collide with him and he saved me from cracking my head open on the stone floor,” you answer a little too quickly. Too bad your sister knows you better than anyone. She snorts and you hunch up your shoulders.

”That was the worst lie you’ve ever told me Y/N. Alright, I might buy that that’s what happened but both yours and Sauls feelings were all over the place when we got there,” she looks at you, giving you the same look that your mother often used when she wanted to wring the truth out of either of you when you were younger. You sigh, knowing that you can’t lie to your own sister. The only problem is that you didn’t really know what happened, and that’s what you tell the three girls currently cornering you.

”I don’t know. We shook hands, and the moment our hands touched, there was this spark. I’ve never experienced it before. And when I let go of his hand, I felt a chill in my gut,” you’re looking at the ground, not meeting their eyes. However, you quickly look up when Rose chokes on her drink and Luna draws in a deep breath. You look at your sister for an explanation, taking in her appearance. Her arms has dropped to her sides and she gaping at you. The uncomfortable feeling from before returns and you shuffle your feet, waiting for them to say anything.

”Did you just say spark? Like, electricity going trough you when you touched Saul?”, Rose is the first to break out of whatever trance they’re in and grabs your upper arm. You swallow and take a deep breath, not understanding the urgency in her words.

”Yes. At first, I thought it might be my magic, seeing as I’m an air fairy, but it has never happened before and I’ve got good control. I mean, I can toss around some electricity but not like that,” you don’t understand anything, but you answer Rose as honestly as possible. Luna rubs her temple and turns towards your sister.

”You haven’t talked to her about this?”, she gives Farah a look that says more than the words she just uttered. Luna’s question brings her out of her stupor.

”Of course not, I didn’t think it would be necessary seeing as it’s something not many people know about nowadays,” she is suddenly angry and you’re getting more and more confused by the second. You grow more uncomfortable, not used to seeing her angry. Rose notices and takes your hand.

”Girls, maybe we should go somewhere quiet, and talk about this? Here is hardly the place,” she gently shoves you in the directions of the dorms, trusting that Farah and Luna will follow. You walk along quietly, thoughts spinning and a chill growing colder and colder with every step. Farah picks up on your emotions and despite the burst of anger displayed minutes earlier, she grabs your hand and squeezes it tight. You managed to squeeze back, noticing that you’re heading towards their suite, and not your own. Opening the door, Luna gestures for you to step inside. Farah steers you towards the common area and Rose slips into what seems to be a small kitchen. Boiling water can soon be heard and you assume she’s making tea.

”Alright, what the hell is happening? Why do you all act like I’ve done something wrong?”, your voice shakes just a little bit but you managed to keep the tears a bay. You and Farah rarely got angry with each other, too close connected to fight with one another. Seeing her react that way and what seemed to be directed at whatever situation you’ve caused, shakes you and there’s nothing you’d rather do than run back to your own room. But she keeps a firm grip on your hand, and Luna lounges by the couch situated before the door. Trying to leave would be useless.

”Hey, calm down. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did, it’s just that I didn’t expect to have to deal with this, it's all kind of new for us too,” Farah smooths your hair out and rubs your back while Luna rolls her eyes. You feel yourself calming down and you fall back against the couch, exhaling deeply. The other side of you dips, Rose settling down to your right.

”Here, drink this, it’s chamomile tea,” she hands you a steaming cup and you blow on the surface gently before taking a sip.

”So, who would like the honour? I think it should be you Farah but Rose probably knows more about it,” Luna is eyeing your sister again and Farah sighs. Sitting up straight, she turns slightly so she can look you in the eyes. She opens her mouth to start speaking, but closes it quickly again. She takes a deep breath and cracks her knuckles.

”God, mother would have been so much better than this. The first thing you need to know Y/N, is that you’ve done nothing wrong, alright?”, you nod and gestures for her to continue. ”From what I’ve read, this happens rarely nowadays and there isn’t much to read about it. But centuries ago, when our magic was different from the one we wield today, there was something the books refer to as soul bonds,” your brow furrows and you open your mouth to question her, but she holds up a hand, silencing you.

”Let me explain first, then you can ask your questions. Now, there isn’t much written on the subject, at least not in the library books but from what I’ve gathered, soul bonds is something akin to having a soulmate,” you choke on your tea and Rose pats your back. You stare at your sister, not really understanding what this has to do with you. Sensing your panic, Farah sends a calming wave of warmth, making you relax once again.

”It’s said that when two people meet and their hands first touch, a spark feeling like electricity runs through your body,” you continue to stare into empty space, remembering the feeling when you touched Sauls hand. Like electricity.

”Are you seriously telling me that that is what just happened? That he, Saul, is my soulmate?”, you stand up suddenly, your empty tea cup falling to the floor. Farah is quick to stand too, grabbing you arms to keep you from running away.

”Calm down Y/N, it’s not a bad thing. It’s odd, seeing as it hasn’t been a recorded case for centuries but not bad. Breathe sweetheart, breathe,” you gasp for air, feeling your lungs constrict and your heart beating faster. Black spots dances across your vision and you can hear all three girls trying to calm you down but they’re too far away. The last thing you see is the door bursting open and tall dark haired silhouette shoving his way past the wood. The person reaches out for you but your legs give out and you’re out cold before he makes it past the threshold.

Tagging: @silvafox @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @neemonroe