#But another grub... That might be a very serious want.

[graviconscientia]

Be honest, would you have more kids?

I don't know. I've considered it more and more frequently as of late. I became a mother at eight sweeps. I did my best for every single one of them, was given a life that allowed me to provide better than I could've done on my own. But I was so young. I did so many things wrong. I was not able to protect all of them like I wanted to. But for all of my regrets, my children have blossomed into wonderful young people that I trust with my life and legacy. I did alright. They did better.

I think more and more of what I would do for them then if I had the knowledge I have now. I think I'd do so much better as a mother, presently, even if I was alone again. But if I were to have another child, I would want a partner for it. Just because I can go it alone doesn't mean I want to.

[lookingforyn]

Mondo smut pls?🙏

My first smut fic AHAHAHHAHA!!!! For this fic I see Mondo as mlm but if you didn’t want that you can always request another fic for Mondo with a fem reader or with fem anatomy 😌❤️ sorry for the long wait btw 😭

NSFW Alphabet with Mondo Owada (mlm addition)

NSFW, alphabet format, masc reader/pronouns/anatomy

━━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━━

A = Aftercare (how does he act/what does he do after sex)

If he’s around one a good shower is his first choice although half of the time it does lead to shower sex. If you two are in a public setting he’ll take one later and get some “grub” for the two of you, he likes a good meal after usually protein based and a cold beer on the side. Sorry but words of affirmation after is not happening it feels to awkward he’d rather just leave it and move on with the rest of the day (this man is a acts of service type of guy)

B = Body part (what’s their favourite thing about his and your body)

For him it’s his muscle mass, just knowing he can pick up and throw you like a rag doll turns him on. He also loves the size difference just one of his arms compared to yours tells the both of you how much power and strength he has

For you surprisingly is your lips something he’d never admit out loud to anyone. He loves how soft they are, how how good they feel on his neck while he’s on top of you, how pillowy they feel when your sucking on the tip of his cock

C = Cum (anything involving cum)

He loves cumming on you way more than inside you. He loves seeing his load drip off of your lips or spray onto your eyelids as you grin by how well you did for him to bust a nut like that. His cum has a bitter salty taste but nothing too potent, he also has a good amount of cum to shoot out but he shoots pretty thick loads. If he’s giving you head he’ll swallow but besides that he’s alright about you cumming on him just not crazy about it. It’s a whole other story though about cumming in him

D = Dirty secret (what’s something he keeps to himself about sex)

This man’s a whore for taking it in the ass let alone how quick he’ll cum when he feels you finish inside of him. He loves being bent over a sink or countertop while you thrust into him with consistent force as he tightens around your cock basically milking it. He’ll never ask for it so just pin him against the wall and take his pants off and he’ll take it no defiance whatsoever just don’t tease him about it or bring up the fact that his cock twitches before you even put your dick or on rare occasion a toy inside him or a argument is gonna go down

E = Experience (how experienced are they)

He’s fucked guys before but only out of luck definitely not a high body count. It’s hard to find his type he’s not into extremely feminine guys but men like him are in the closet or straight let alone hard for him to fuck without people knowing he’s gay. What he really needs to work on is how to be romantic in bed because all of his sexual encounters were one night stands so you’ll have to introduce him to more slow and sensual sex but besides that he’s a fun guy to fuck

F = Favourite position (favourite sexual position)

Simple doggy he loves bending or being bent but on more dominant days than others there’s no chance of him not being behind you (at least for the first round)

G = Goofy (how serious are they in bed)

He’ll tease you here and there but besides that he doesn’t play around, he like to show you what he’s capable of and it’s also one of his favourite ways to relax so don’t even try cracking jokes or you’ll be very sorry and extremely sore

H = Hair (how groomed/clean are they)

I cant beat around the bush (lol get it… sorry) with working out, riding on his bike and all the fights he’ll get in, this man is really sweaty throughout the day before he takes a shower though he does shower often cause of this. You’ll need to time sex after he showers or you’ll have a mix of cologne and BO in your nose. For hair he usually shaves his pubes though not every time so it might be a bit prickly but he doesn’t let it grow more then that

I = Intimacy (how romantic are they in the moment)

He’s not the type to use words of affirmation or a guy to kiss you slowly with candles lit beside the bed but his eyes do say that he appreciates this time with you and that he loves you and when you two fall asleep together after he’ll wrap around you his face in the crook of your neck not letting you go until morning

J = Jack off (how often do they masturbate and when)

He jacks off a good amount it’s a great stress reliever and this guy needs it with his anger issues. He masturbates at home either in the morning or at night he’s too busy doing other shit and if he’s gonna do anything sexual throughout the day or in public spaces it’s gonna be fucking your brains out instead of a quick tug

K = Kink (what type of kinks do they have)

Anal sex/play though don’t talk about it with him just do it, really into dirty talk he loves degrading you and talking you through it while destroying your ass as you cry out bouncing on his lap, he’s definitely into dom and sub dynamics things like begging for him to let you cum, spanking your ass when you try to squirm away or face fucking you for all of those texts you were sending him while he was out with his gang

L = Location (favourite places to have sex)

Loves a good bathroom stall it’s easy to find and fuck in his favourite being the bathroom at his gangs bar. He likes fucking you missionary on the bed but absolutely will choose taking you over the kitchen counter or having you down in the table while he pumps in and out of you in butterfly

M = Motivation (what turns them on)

Like I said he lives for dirty talk just not be too obvious though he doesn’t want that kind of attention on him, send a text, whisper a fantasy you want to happen, show a nude on your phone and he’s ready to make you scream in pleasure. One that you may not even do on purpose is anything with your lips, put chapstick on them, bite them, lick them and he’s dragging you away to fuck your thoughts out of you

N = No (what’s a major turnoff for him)

Don’t call him daddy he thinks that’s really weird and cringey like full on slides out of you and zips up his pants type of reaction. Another is being to obvious with your flirting he doesn’t like PDA and struggles a bit with embracing his sexuality so for you to get all touchy feely turns is hot yea but makes him uncomfortable in public just be careful and it’ll be ok

O = Oral (does he like to give or receive? Is he skillful)

He likes receiving more then giving but he’s ok with letting you have your turn he does like to give a handjob more then a blowjob though. He tends to get a bit embarrassed at first but once his anxiety is eased he’s really good at giving head he’s pretty aggressive making you overstimulated quickly cause of it. He loves when he’s receiving oral it makes him feel in control of you and really helps him relax after a hard day seeing you on your knees as his hand moves your head up and down on his throbbing dick is a reward he treasures

P = Pace (how fast or slow are they)

He’s not the sensual type at least not naturally, when he’s fucking there’s no reason for him to slow down he has a goal and he’s gonna get there as fast as he can it feels too good not to but is that’s not your style you’ll have to teach him that

Q = Quickie (do they like them? How often do they have them)

He’s a quickie guy in the daytime something like dropping off lunch at his work for him or grabbing lunch on a sunny day he’s gonna try to find a bathroom and pound the shit out of you he loves knowing he can make you feel good anytime anywhere. At night however, he loves to take his time with you teasing you on how your legs are shaking like there’s a earthquake underneath the mattress, how he’s only made you cum twice and you can’t even get a proper response out, or how you can’t stop your dick from shooting a load on your chest as he fingers your ass

R = Risks (are they ok or like risks)

It’s 50/50. If you guys are snot around anyone who knows him like a road trip or at a new restaurant he’s ok with having a quickie just don’t be gross about it like trying to fondle him in daylight in front of people he has standers. Like I said this man struggles a bit with his sexuality and masculinity if one of his biker buddies found out he’d look like a clown so make sure no one knows who the two of you are first before making a subtle move 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go)

Depends on the day he’s having. Like I said after a hard days work he likes to blow off steam meaning he’s already pretty tired when you start to fuck so for those days a good two rounds. For more chill days especially at night he’s good for about four rounds

T = Toys (do they have or use any toys)

He’s not big on toys the most he has are cuffs and a fleshlight but if you’re into them once in a while to be fair to you maybe a wand. Big secret though if you introduce it to him slowly even if he never says it (which he probably won’t) he would really like it if you used anal beads on him

U = Unfair (how much do they like to tease)

He loves to tease you. He thinks it’s hilarious to mess with you while you’re in a daze from all the overstimulating he’s done with just his hands stroking your rock hard cock, come on now you can take more. If you tried that with him though? Fucking forget it, he’s gonna be putting you in your place finally using those cuffs he’s has in his closet to good use

V = Volume (how loud are they and what do they sound like)

He’s a good level of volume, when you guys fuck it’s enough for you to hear how much pleasure he’s drowning in but enough were you two can fuck in peace without a complaint text or a knock on the door. He’s a big grunt and growner but the only moan you’ll hear from him is right when he cums

W = Wild card (random headcannon)

Going back to the anal beads he would love if you used it on him especially the vibrating ones omg he would melt like putty. Just imagine him gripping the bedroom dresser as you pump his dick with his fleshlight while also pumping his ass slowly with the beads forcing him to cover his mouth his mouth to not cry out in ecstasy

X = X-Ray (what’s it look like under those clothes)

Dude is THICK you’ll need lube to get his cock in you period. Good seven to eight inches too and he loves to brag about it to you (another way of teasing you) a bit veiny and the curvature of his dick goes down he’s also circumcised and the tip is bigger then the base

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

He’s not horny all the time he likes sex and likes to relive tension but he won’t care if you two don’t do anything for a while it’s not on his mind 24/7 he likes to get shit done and he thinks people or couples that fuck ALL the time are gross and immature he says stuff like “At least I have a fucking life.” When he does get horny most of the time it’s at night when you two are in bed chilling beside one another

Z = Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep after)

He’s not overly tired more mellow then anything but once you make the decision to call it a night it’s not too long until he’s past out snoring while he’s hanging off of the bed

[rogue-of-heart-classpecting]

Hiiii!!!! hav u done a witch of heart and a heir of space yet??

WITCH OF HEART

The witch is someone who thinks outside the aspect box. They have strange opinions about what their aspect means and should be. The witch of space jade could see into the future and would fulfill time loops for fun. The witch of life feferi created an entirely rethought governing system for alternia which was more gentle and nurturing, if more overbearing and restrictive. They think about their aspect in a different way than everyone else. Jades fucking dog can teleport her, not in the way teleport usually works on tv, but by… BECOMING the new setting by expanding into it like a tunnel turning inside out. Feferis planet is built on blood and entrails. Grubs are culled for being different. Every troll over 18 years is called into active service for the interstellar army. Witches just… have a different opinion than the rest of the crowd. They twist their aspect around, changing it into whatever they see fit to make it look like. Jade can manipulate the shape of whole planets and snap people to the outer ring of the universe. Feferi can revive people and, I assume, suck the life out of them as well. I wonder if she could move the life from one person INTO another person. She probably could. The rule with homestuck powers is if you can imagine it, it becomes real. The kids imagine ways to use their powers and they discover they then have that ability.

Heart is about… who you are, what you believe, and how you feel. It is emotional, it is raw. Heart is feelings. A witch of heart… would be able to change… who people are. You could switch peoples bodies or give them different opinions. You could make emotions bigger or smaller, you could move them out of their body perhaps, pulling out their emotions into a little… endorphin ball, I guess. A witch of heart would have strange opinions about emotion compared to their culture. A private culture would have a WoH who thinks everyone should express themselves freely, an open culture would have a WoH who thinks people should keep their feelings hidden. The witch would want to change the world; the way their aspect is used and viewed in their world. A witch of heart could direct emotion toward an object or person of interest. They could turn a crowd against someone. Witches are very powerful, and can be very dangerous. But when you move aspect around, it always has to go somewhere. You have to remember that when writing or imagining classpect powers.

HEIR OF SPACE

The heir is probably the most comfortable with their aspect that a class can be. Say your aspect was… bananas. This guy would already be a grocer, have a yellow bedroom, slip on things a lot… actually, they might be adept at NOT slipping. They could be an ice skater. Banana skater. Jesus this analogy sucks. The heir is also powerful and their aspect comes to their aid early in their session when they need it. This banana heir would be able to summon a banana when starving… or a peel to trip an enemy.

The heir of space will be prolific at some kind of creative activity. Building, weaving, drawing, sewing. Anything like that. But since the heir is kind of low key about how they interact with their aspect, they would refer to it as a kind of casual hobby despite their skill. And the amount of time they spend doing it. An heir of space would be able to throw enemies (or themselves) away from a fight if they were in danger. They could build a bridge or move the ground closer or keep a crumbling cliff up while standing on it. Imagine they’re maybe falling from a height and they just build the ground up like in the sims with the build tool. … Would that still kill you? Whatever. The writing’s up to you. As the heir gets more powerful they would be able to command this power more. John had to do some serious soul searching and thinking hard to discover his potential power-wise. Maybe this person would be able to make a new other website or something. Like how Dave made sbahj and we can just go to that site and see them? Even though they were made by Dave? Something like that. They could put something in the REAL world. It depends what you need the character to do… maybe they could freeze the narrative somehow… not time-wise, but by actually creating snow and ice everywhere to like. “Pause.” Maybe like Aang froze himself in ice to run away. Aang is actually maybe… a great example of a potential heir of space! He INHERITS mastery over the natural world. Heirs inherit. John “inherited” power over the narrative, equius became the void… mituna embodied doom. This person would BECOME space. When Aang masters the elements, I guess he would inherit the title of “being” space, via the 4 elements.

[astaroth1357]

I don’t know if this’ll make the cut, but brothers with an MC wearing their (the brothers) clothes, and I’m talking full ensemble not just a random jacket or accessory (you can delete if you’re not comfortable of course)

So when left with the question of whether this was a full on clothing theft or a cosplay of some kind, I'm going with theft because that's just funnier to me. Just a little MC marching around in Beel's tent of an outfit… Hilarious. 🤭

MC Steals the Brothers’ Outfits

Lucifer 

It started out like any other morning, Lucifer woke up early in bed - as he always does - but when he rolled onto his side to stir the MC, he found their side of the bed empty… 

Normally, he’d have thrown up the alarm in an instant, but his mind was still groggy as he tried to recall what happened the night before… He could have sworn the MC slept over… unless…

MC: “Good morning, love.”

Their voice was enough to get him sitting up again and he uh… well he was not prepared for what he saw. The MC was sitting with their legs crossed at his desk, attempting to imitate his “I’m-in-Complete-Control-Here” energy as much as they possibly could, but with an added detail…

They were wearing his clothes. His favorite suit to be specific which was tailored to his much bigger frame, resulting in a frankly ridiculously ill-fitting look on their smaller human body...

MC: *picks up a poisoned apple off the desk, continuing their very best Lucifer-impression*  “You should get up, love. We have an early meeting today and we can’t keep Lord Diavolo waiting.”

The MC appeared to polish the apple with his sleeve for a moment before taking a bite, looking pleased with themselves before their eyes widened in complete horror. It only took a split second for them to spit the unchewed hunk of apple into a nearby waste basket and toss the apple away in panic.

MC: “Ah FUCK!! I forgot I can’t eat these!!! SHIT!!”

Their panic only grew as Lucifer could no longer hold in his laughter, the booming volume of which is enough to wake up all his brothers throughout the House.

MC: “Lucifer, don’t just sit there laughing!! Bring me some water or something!!! LUCIFER!!!”

Mammon

Look, Mammon always gets up late so not being able to find, like, any of his normal clothes was a serious problem! He’d already dug through half his closest and still couldn’t find anything!!

He had a photoshoot that he had to get to in less than hour and he still needed to take a shower, get dressed, get his stuff together, then bolt halfway across town before-

MC: *literally kicks open his door Kuzco-style* “Yo, yo, yo!! What’s up, Mammon??”

First off, the sudden loud bang of his door hitting the wall nearly scared him out of his skin, but before he could even yell at the MC for their weird entrance his brain had to process what they were wearing….

Good news! He found his missing clothes, the MC had thrown them on while he was sleeping - sunglasses and all - and now stood before him with a toothy grin on their face.

MC: “What's the problem, Mams? Lucifer got your tongu-EEEK!”

Apparently, they weren't expecting Mammon to literally lunge at them and capture them in a tight hug, practically lifting them off their feet with a laugh.

Mammon: “What'cha think your doin', MC?? I'm gonna need those back ya know?”

MC: *laughs loud and bright, throwing their arms around his neck* “I know, I know... But I wanted to surprise you!” *stops laughing suddenly and blinks* “Huh…”

Mammon watched the MC experimentally lift his glasses off their nose then put them back down, repeating the action several times before snickering.

Mammon: *frowns* “What's so funny?”

MC: “Nothing really but… Mammon, do you wear these just to make everything look like gold?”

Mammon actually had to pause before responding, pulling the MC closer with a devilish grin.

Mammon: “Nah… I ‘cause got all the gold I need right here~”

MC: *chuckles and nuzzles his cheek* “Nice save...”

Mammon: *his cheeks flush and he frowns* “I dunno what your talkin’ about... But could ya go put on a t-shirt or somethin’? They’re paying me big for this shoot and I really gotta go!”

Leviathan 

Another convention, another cosplay far too complex to ever hope to peel out of… Though Levi would never regret wearing his five piece Lord of Shadow cosplay, it’s a heavy thing and certainly not something he can change out of in a bathroom stall…

When he finally got back to the House, he wasn’t looking to do anything but drag his tired body back to his room and change into some more manageable clothes… but… well…

When Levi opened his door, he saw the MC sitting alone at his computer desk playing a game by themselves. That was all well and good but… WHY IN DIAVOLO’S BLACK HELL ARE THEY WEARING HIS CLOTHES???

When they heard the door, the MC whipped their head back and they both stared at each other in an awkward silence… His clothes didn’t even fit them right!-or maybe they did?? His mind was panicking because they had the collar of his shirt covering their mouth and it looked so moe it was actually ridiculous!

Levi: ……….

MC: ………….

MC: …. “I can explain.”

Levi: ……. “Y-yea?”

MC: “I was having trouble on this one level and you wouldn’t pick up the phone… so I thought ‘What would Levi do?’... and it escalated…”

Levi: “You think??”

Levi felt like he could die right there, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it was from embarrassment or happiness… On the one hand, the MC was  literally trying to be him in order to get better at video games - which was flatteringly adorable… And on the other, the MC is pretty much cosplaying as him, right in front of him… and looked so damn cute doing it too… 

MC: “Is this weird…? This is weird. I’m sorry, I’ll go change-”

Levi: NO-agh! *he throws a hand over his own mouth, surprised by how loud he just shouted* … “U-uh… no it’s fine…”

MC: “Okay...?”

MC: “But could you put your phone down? I think you’ve been taking pictures for the past two minutes…”

Levi looked down at his hand and sure enough he unconsciously pulled out his phone in camera mode and has been spamming the “Capture” button long enough to have his thumb cramping...

Levi: “Oh.” *stops for a moment, then seems to second guess himself*

Levi: “Uh… just one more?”

Satan

When you share a house with Mammon, you grow accustomed to not being able to find things from time to time, but an entire outfit?? 

When he woke up one morning to find that he couldn't find any of his normal clothes, he blamed Mammon right off the bat… 

I guess in hindsight, what would Mammon want with his jacket? But anger doesn't always jump to the most rational conclusion, you know?

After searching for "long enough," Satan stormed out of his bedroom on a warpath. He didn't stop his march until he was banging on Mammon’s door with a closed fist!

Satan: “Mammon!! What did you do with my clothes you useless, money-grubbing asshole!?”

When he didn’t get a reply, likely because Mammon was hiding in his closet or something, he was about to kick the door in when he felt a tap on his shoulder...

When he turned his head, much to his surprise, he found his missing clothes!... They were on the MC - right down to the single sleeve - and the MC met his eyes with a mischievous grin…

They had a book in their hands he recalled seeing once at the library: "101 Ways to Prank Your Partner," open like they'd been reading down the hallway.

MC: … Page 47.

They winked at him before bolting back down the hallway in a fit of giggles and oooh, it was on now.

Satan spent the morning chasing the MC through the House, both laughing and dashing around in reckless abandon. He really needed his clothes back and he wouldn’t mind an extra hour or two with the MC when he got them… 😏

Asmodeus 

Asmo isn’t exactly a morning person… Though he forces himself awake so he can perform his wake-up routine, by the time he comes to the table it’s a hit-or-miss on how irritable he’s going to be...

Of course, his favorite outfit suddenly disappearing from his massive closet did not help his mood in the slightest!

Who would take his clothes?? Well, that’s not even a question - surely plenty of his devoted, adoring stans would kill to even have his scarf, so maybe the better question was, “How??” Lucifer keeps all the doors and windows magically sealed at night! (He would know, having been locked out on numerous occasions)

Asmo was tearing through his closet, wracking his brain for any place he might have left his beloved outfit, before he heard someone clear their throat by his bedroom door.

What greeted him was a lovely look at the MC wearing the missing clothing in question, even with all the grace and style he would himself!

Asmo: *jaw-drops* “MC???”

MC: *smirks at his delight and winks at him* “Looking for something?”

They strutted into the room with the confidence of a mock fashion model and took a silly vogue pose in front of the closet, barely holding in a fit of laughter from their actions.

MC: “… Or just at me?”

Asmo, of course, snatched them right up in his arms with a delighted squeal.

Asmo: “Oh. My. Diavolo!! MC, you look just gorgeous!!!- Because you look like me, of course.” 🤭

MC: *laughs and cups his cheeks to pull him closer* “Who wouldn't want to be you, Asmo?”

Asmo: “So true… But you’re already perfect, my love~” 😘

And he went on to prove that to them all morning long...

Beelzebub 

Beel didn't even get the chance to notice his clothes were missing. He had a tournament the night before and was sleeping even harder than Belphie that morning...

What woke him up was the smell of food: scrambled shadowhawk eggs, hellboar bacon, pancakes with nightshade syrup…. 

Beel's stomach had him sitting up long before his eyes ever opened, drawn in by his nose alone.

MC: “Beeeeel. Wake up!”

Beel's eyes dragged open at their request and what he found had his mouth watering... The MC had brought him a dining cart with a complete breakfast spread, brimming with portions only Beel could ever finish, but for once he wasn’t looking at the food.

The MC, for whatever reason, had decided to put on his clothes… And keep in mind that Beel's built like an ox compared to almost anybody. They were absolutely swimming under all that fabric (thank the Devil for his suspenders…) 

MC: “Congratulations!!!”

They throw their arms up excitedly, making the unzipped jacket balloon out like a parachute behind them… It's a remarkably cute image.

Beel: *blinks* “Oh.” *he gets a little pink, still very confused* “What did I do exactly…?”

MC: “You won the championship last night, remember? Or did you forget already??”

The MC takes a step to the side and begins pointing at the plates on the cart.

MC: “I thought we'd celebrate with some breakfast! I brought you eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, cereal-”

As they continued their list, Beel's hand naturally reached out towards the cart eagerly, before something finally clicked in his head. WHY were they wearing his clothes??

Beel: “Wait. MC, why are you wearing-...?”

MC *holds their hand up* “Hold on!”

MC: “-oatmeal, muffins, banana bread, annnd…” *they get onto the bed and plop down onto his lap with a grin*

MC: “Me! Congratulations, Beel!!”

They lean up to peck his cheek while his arms automatically wind around their waist. The combination of their scents already bringing out a different sort of hunger in him…

Let’s say if this is his reward, he'll never lose a game again. 😏

Belphegor 

Belphie was in the middle of his afterschool nap in the library. The day was exhausting, so he didn’t even bother changing uniforms… The couches there were comfortable and the space was quiet, really nothing should have woken him up...

But somehow, for whatever reason, something did. A tug… Something was chasing away his dreams by tugging on the cow pillow in his arms.

MC: “Beeelllppphie….”

The tugging did not cease and he half growled in response, still keeping his eyes firmly closed.

Belphie: “What now...?”

MC: “I need this…” *they tug on the corner of the pillow a little harder* “Can you let go please…?”

What kind of question is that?? No one takes away his favorite pillow!

Belphie: *hugs the pillow tighter* “Go away, I'm trying to nap…”

MC: “Noooo please…! I need it for something right now…!!”

They started really pulling on his pillow now and he only held on tighter in annoyance. Since they wouldn’t leave him alone, he finally opened his eyes.

Belphie: “MC! Why are… you..?”

His voice trailed off as he finally saw the MC standing there in his usual outfit. His cardigan was so long over their arms that they had to grasp his pillow through its sleeves...

While his drowsy mind tried to catch up, the MC snatched the pillow from his grasp with one swift yank.

MC: *grins* “Mine now!”

They turned to bolt out of the library, but Belphie snatched them by the waist and dragged them back to the couch with him.

Belphie: “Fine, but then I get a new pillow.” 😏

The MC yelped as he flopped on top of them, pulling them close like a body pillow and resting his head into the crook of their neck to enjoy the soothing smell of their scent mixed with his.

MC: “W-wait Belphie…!” *tries to wiggle out from under his surprisingly heavy deadweight* “I was just playing around…! Please don't fall asleep on me!!”

Belphie: *yawns and settles in, already drifting off* “Too late… G'night, MC…”

MC: “Belphie!!!” 😫

They could complain all they liked, he wasn’t going to let them go for a few hours. Cute or not, MC, nobody takes his pillow!

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding IX

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV  - - - Part V - - - - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII

Content Warning: This chapter contains potentially triggering material, particularly aftermath of attempted suicide as well as discussions of bodily injury.

Cody woke up the morning after the...drunken keldabe still feeling uneasy. He spent half an hour attempting to read over reports in preparation for the Umbaran campaign before giving it up as a lost cause. He distracted himself for a little while by pouring over last night’s cantina surveillance, before giving up on that as well and sending a message to General Skywalker.

‘Any updates on General Kenobi’s status?’

He watched the comms as communications from everyone besides the General trickled in. He answered a few requests for requisitions, forwarded some medical reports, and ignored an irritating handful of overly-personal questions. 

Agonizing over it the whole time, he opened a comm-text link to Obi-Wan. It took nearly an hour, but he managed to send two sentences. ‘Hope you’re recovering well. Look forward to upcoming mission discussion.’

He immediately wanted to retroactively delete the message, mortified by every word and deeply concerned at every second that passed without a reply.

He spent the next 30 minutes hunched over, quickly closing every incoming CT and CC communication, justifying the time to himself as ‘technically on leave.’

He lurched forward when he finally received a General’s comm code, but slumped in disappointment when it was Skywalker, not Kenobi.

‘Not as drunk but still seems a little high. He says he wasn’t drugged. He’s taking the rest of the day off. I’m monitoring.’

Taking the rest of the day off. Did that mean he wasn’t carrying around his comm? Kriff. Should he more or less concerned that the general was actually taking a day off?

He decided to be more concerned.

‘Thank you for the update. Respectfully request information on any changes.’

Hopefully that would encourage Skywalker to keep him informed even if he stopped freaking out over his vod’s behavior.

Stowing the remote comm, he stood up and exited the temporary planet-side office, throwing himself into cleaning up the mess that was nearly 20,000 clone troopers simultaneously attempting to get the most out of a very brief R&R. 

Shortly before mid-day, he received another update from Skywalker.

‘Just managed to get him to medical. Healer cleared him of drug interactions but Obi-Wan’s still acting strange (not crying, but a lot of hugging).’

Cody stared at that for a long while.

‘Any other verbal indications of upcoming danger?’ he finally asked. Skywalker didn’t reply. 

Shortly after nightfall, his incident reports were interrupted by a call from an unknown temple number. He quickly opened it, and a holo of an unfamiliar Mon Calamari female healer appeared in miniature on the desk.

“Commander Cody. Thank you for answering so quickly. Are you somewhere private?” she asked, voice deliberately neutral.

The Commander tensed up. “Yes, sir. I’m in CC office space, alone. The room and the channel are both secure. Is this regarding General Kenobi?”

“Yes.” She replied. “My name is Master Bant Eerin; I’m a temple healer as well as a personal friend of Obi-Wan’s. He’s...he’s in the healing halls right now. We’re still trying to understand exactly what happened- I’ll tell you what I can but first we need to rule out any possible drugs he may have contact with. I need you to describe in detail anything he may have been exposed to that could have possibly had mind-altering effects.”

The Commander was a professional. He swallowed back his fear, his questions, and his demands to know what was going on.

“Of course. Everything on the Negotiator was GAR Standard, and I was with him when we left the ship. We went directly to the lower levels. The first time he was exposed to anyone outside the 212th was when we left our transport on level 3915. I...actually have footage of him the whole time night after that point. I’m sending it over right now, sir.”

“That would be extremely helpful, thank you.” He watched as she pulled it up on a second comm, sound barely audible. 

He continued with his report: “One of the boys took it without permission. He didn’t mean anything by it, he’s just an idiot; I’ve already issued a severe reprimand. In any case, he brought it to me after I issued surveillance on the cantina, it tracks everything the General did- as far as I can tell, he had a glass of house grub wine, two shots of rancor blood, and an unnamed mixed cocktail ‘on the house.’ You can see everything the bartender added- as far as I can tell nothing was slipped in. He just... blacked out suddenly after the fourth drink, and quickly startled awake, confused by his surroundings.”

“I see.” Her tone was still carefully neutral and Cody didn’t know how to read her expression. He waited, wishing he was wearing his bucket so he didn’t have to keep schooling his face into professional patience.

“You brought him back to the temple...correct?” 

“Yes, sir.”

She let out a deep breath, gills fluttering slightly. “We’ll probably have more questions later, but please understand our inquires are entirely based around determining how we can best help Obi-Wan. This call and any future ones are not intended, and should absolutely not be interpreted, as indications of blame. He’s actually spoken to me about you before, I know he has the deepest respect for you, personally and professionally. Someone will likely be assigned to talk to everyone whose spent time with him recently, including myself.”

The sick feeling in his gut from last night returned full force. “I...believe I understand sir. His condition is serious, then?”

Her gills fluttered again.

“Even now, I think we can safely anticipate a full physical recovery. He...there’s no easy way to say this...it appears he attempted to end his own life. Knight Skywalker got to him just in time, and he received bacta within minutes of the initial burn. I...like I said...we’ll began work to figure out why-”

Her voice broke and she stared up, large tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. She hastily wiped them away.

“Rest assured commander, he’s getting the best treatment possible. Thank you for your assistance. I’ll do my best to answer any questions you might have right now. This is my personal comm link- please feel free to reach out to me at any point for updates.”

“I-” Cody cleared his throat. “Can I come to the temple? To...” he trailed off, not sure how to finish.

“Not tonight, I’m sorry. The healers need to focus; he’s not allowed any visitors until he’s out of Bacta, I’m afraid.”

“Skywalker must be throwing a fit at that” Cody remarked numbly.

The healer winced. “Knight Skywalker is currently sedated. He was...injured in the struggle to keep Obi-Wan from further harm. Master Windu witnessed part of it, but we’ll have to wait until its safe to wake him to get the full story. I’ll be notifying Captain Rex of the situation after we finish speaking.”

“I’ll do it.” Cody offered immediately. “Tell me what happened.”

Eerin hesitated. 

“Please, Sir. It will be better coming from me and...if he’s the only other trooper who’s being informed at the moment...”

“Of course,” she said quietly. “We don’t know the full circumstances, but at some point in performing emergency care for Master Kenobi, Knight Skywalker was stabbed in the lower abdomen with a vibroblade. It pierced his large intestine. The blade was pulled out shortly before healers arrived, causing some further damage and blood loss. He’s already finished surgery, and should only need a few hours of Bacta at most. Considering his extraordinary past recovery rates, he’ll likely be out of bed tomorrow and fully healed by the end of the week.”

“General Kenobi wouldn’t...” Cody trailed off again. He was having a hard time putting coherent sentences together.

Bant looked at the ceiling for a moment, seeming to collect her thoughts.

“Psychosis can have many manifestations. Even with- with conventional injuries, people can mistake help for harm. There’s just too much we don’t understand, and only so much we can learn before they wake up. Are you certain you wish to be the one to inform Captain Rex?”

“Yes.” That was about the only thing the Commander was certain of right now. “Is there anyone else in the GAR I should inform of...anything?”

“The military aspect of this isn’t my area of expertise. If there’s someone you trust who can be a support for you, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to tell them in confidence. Some form of what happened is going to get out eventually.” she replied. “Please use your discretion, I suppose. It’s...not really my speciality but I imagine you’ll receive further orders on how much to release to the GAR once Obi-Wan’s stable.”

Right. Discretion. Because Obi-Wan wasn’t just Obi-Wan- he was a high general in charge of nearly 1/3 of the republic’s forces. If word of this got out to the wrong ears it would cause mass panic, maybe even an emboldened separatist advance. It was an insane amount of responsibility for one person, no wonder - he deliberately didn’t finish the thought.

“I’ll comm the Captain immediately. Thank you for the information, General.” he said out loud.

“Feel free to contact me for further updates, and tell Captain Rex he’s welcome to do the same. I’ll message you when its clear to visit the halls.”

“Yes, Sir.” Cody responded, saluting automatically. 

“Take care of yourself, Commander Cody”

The hologram blinked out. Cody sat motionless for several long moment before sweeping his desk off, sending the assorted flimsies and redundant comm-units of various designations to the ground.

He stared at the empty desk, then tapped a button on his wrist comm, opening a private audio channel. “CT-7567, please come in” he said calmly.

“Cody?” came the alarmed reply. “I’m here, what’s going on?” Why did he sound so panicked? He had deliberately used his calmest voice. Oh well.

“Please report immediately to CC Office 12 in Guard Headquarters”

“I’ll be there in 10″

Cody hung up. He stared at the blank wall. He knew something was wrong with how the General said goodbye.

He opened the single desk drawer and dumped the odd wires and coins inside to the floor. Eerin had said burn. That could mean a lot of things, but lightsaber was the most likely. 

Cody puked profusely into the empty drawer. He stared at the vomit for a moment before carefully closing the drawer. He still felt a little sick. He hadn’t even said anything back to the General, he just stood there, frozen. 

He stared vaguely at the wall across, wondering if he was going to puke again.

Rex burst into the room. “Cody! What’s going on?! You- kark, what is that smell?”

“I puked in the desk drawer” Cody explained.

Rex shut the door behind him and slowly walked over. He knelt down next to the desk, gently taking Cody’s hands in this own. “Cody. Vod. Talk to to me.” 

“Obi-Wan tried to kill himself.”

Rex’s hands tightened over Cody’s compulsively and Cody squeezed back harder. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Rex’s expression.

“Some of ghost company went out for drinks last night. Obi-Wan started acted oddly. We flew towards the temple. He started crying. We got to the temple. He Keldabe kissed me. He told me goodbye. I didn’t say anything back.”

“Oh, vod” Rex whispered. He gently pulled the slack Cody off the chair and onto his lap on the floor. Cody continued mechanically. “I did reports today. Skywalker said he was with him. I left Obi-Wan a message. I don’t think he saw it. He tried to kill himself. Skywalker must have left him alone. He saved him. Obi-Wan stabbed Skywalker.”

Rex froze, still holding on to Cody. 

“The healer called. Asked about drugs. They don’t think its drugs but they had to ask. She said they’re both going to heal completely fine. I have a link if you want to call the healer directly. That’s...it. I have reports to do now.”

Rex held Cody tighter. “Not right now”

“It’s war. People get hurt. People die. I have work to do”

“Not right now,” Rex repeated. “You have the right to be upset. You have the right to grieve. You’re a person, of course you have feelings.”

“Obi-Wan said that.” Cody whispered. Then he started crying. He continued to quietly sob for some time, hurt and bewildered and scared. They sat on the floor together; Rex barely moved, simply held on to his older brother as he fell apart.

Inevitably, Cody’s tears dried up and he pulled away. 

“I don’t know how to clean this,” he said gesturing at that closed drawer. 

“I’ll take care of it. Let’s just get you to bed. There’s CC bunks here, right? 

“Yes but...”

Cody didn’t really like sleeping so isolated, but he also couldn’t imagine facing the 212th right now. 

“I’ll stay here with you. We’ll go to the temple together in the morning.”

Rex shepherded Cody to the fresher. He stared at the mirror with a vague sense of recognition before automatically moving through a standard sanitation routine. By the time he finished, Rex had joined him in his room.

“What did you do with the vomit?” Cody asked, suddenly exhausted. They slipped into bed together.

“Swapped the whole desk with Pond’s. That bastard knows what he did.”

Cody let out a snort. Then, much to his surprise, he sank heavily into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Part X

[deewithani]

A clone’s first day at Coruscant prison

Clone Trooper Toast Series Volume 1

Pairing: Clone Trooper Toast x GN!Reader

Word count: 2,336

T/W: Hazing

Rating: G

A/N: I couldn’t help but go serious with this. It was started out as a drabble, but quickly gained its own life and I couldn’t stop. Toast clone is love. Toast clone is life. Toast clone deserves happiness too. I might write another couple of fics to give him some. This is my first fic ever, no beta. If we die, we die.

Tags: @royalhandmaidens as requested.

If you sat Toast down and asked him what his favorite food in the galaxy was, he would tell you it was toast. It was true, and his love for toast begat the name that he was given. He didn’t know exactly what it was about toast that made it his favorite food. It tasted good, sure, much better than the rations that were more commonly served to clones no longer in training (or so he had heard, he was fresh out of training himself), and definitely better than what they served to cadets to ensure their nutritional needs were met, but not exceeded, at the bare minimum of cost. You could put different toppings and spreads on it, giving you a new breakfast every day if you wanted. And it was cheap, so the Republic had no issue serving it to Clones as an “option”, sitting in the breakfast lineup on a tray, next to a small basket filled with small packets of butter and jogan fruit jam. He came to the mess at the same time every day, just so he could have some toast, because breakfast was his favorite part of every day. No, he wasn’t sure what it was about toast itself that made him like it best, but he knew it was his favorite food the first time he had breakfast at the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center.

You thought back to the first time you ever met Toast, the very first day he came to the prison, and the first time you ever saw “First Breakfast”. He arrived early that morning directly from Kamino with many of his other brothers, fresh faced and ready to make a difference in the war. To do a good job. To be a good soldier. To be a good brother. He had high hopes for this posting, and high expectations for himself, and he was prepared to do his duty to serve the Republic and its people. You thought back to that day with happiness. It was the day you met the most wonderful person in the galaxy.

On that very first day on duty he was cornered by a small group of more experienced troopers who were tasked with showing him around and getting him acquainted with his job and the brothers he would be working with. One of the most well known first day rituals the the boys participated in was known as the “First Breakfast”. It was a time where the more experienced clones would welcome their new brothers, in their own special way. The First Breakfast was a tradition, and every clone that worked at the prison had participated in it. Toast’s participation in the First Breakfast was required before he set foot on the floor, whether he knew it or not.

“C’mon vod” the leader of the group, Ether, had said. “Let’s head to the mess to grab some grub before shift change.” Toast spent the short walk answering questions, “How are the cadets on Kamino doing?”, “What do you think of Coruscant?”, “Do you know any girls?”, “Did you chose a name yet?”. He didn’t really know how to answer those questions, he never really thought about his own feelings about his life, but he answered them as best he could. The cadets were doing as well as any other clone had done on Kamino. Coruscant was different than Kamino, but he had never been any other place to make a fair comparison. Of course he didn’t know any girls, there were none aside from the Kaminoans and the Jedi Shaak Ti at the training center. And no, he didn’t have a name, he just didn’t stand out from his brothers enough to warrant a name, either from his vod or from his own heart.

When they finally reached the mess, Ether put an arm around Toast and gave him a rough side hug. “Alright vod. This is the staff mess. There’s mostly clones here, but there is some natborn staff, so don’t be surprised if you see a face that doesn’t look like your own in the mess every now and then. Now, the menu changes, and you know as well as the rest of us that some food just isn’t edible, so let me guide you through what’s good, and what’s not.” As he walked down the line he pointed out exotic dishes, to Toast’s palette anyway.

You sat alone in the corner of the mess, reading the day’s news on your holopad, unaware of the shiny new trooper that Ether’s crew just brought through the door. Ether lifted his voice, pulling your attention to the group, where he had his arm around the shoulders of the timid looking clone. You had heard that Ether liked to put new troopers under his wing, at least long enough to play a mean spirited prank on them, but the clones had always been tight lipped, and you had never seen or heard any solid proof it. Until today. Today, it looked like you might get a glimpse inside the world of a new clone at the Coruscant prison.

You watched as Ether pointed out various foods to the new trooper, shaking his head yes and no at various times, presumably to indicate which choices were better than others. It should seem obvious which were best; some dishes were barely touched, while others were attacked as if they were set out for a pack of loth-wolves. It didn’t take a scientist to know that clones had a liking for the spicy pepper hash that was a staple in the mess, and tended to stay away from the blue hued yogurt. You suspected that Ether was telling him the same.

First Breakfast always –always – included the spicy pepper hash. Every new trooper had to try it, even though all the others knew it was spicier than the lava of Mustafar. Ether knew First Breakfast was a mean prank. New clone trooper, fresh from Kamino? He’s never had anything spicier than some salt and pepper added to the “grey fluff” they called food on Kamino. The long necks probably didn’t even know what a pepper was, if he was being honest with himself. But he had seen more than one new shiny come through those prison doors and fall in love with the spicy pepper hash. They just needed to jump in feet first. Try it, burn up your taste buds, have a good laugh with your brothers, and tada, you’re part of the group! Every single clone here went through it, and it was obvious that almost all of them had a taste for the peppers. Besides, even if he didn’t like it, it was a bonding experience, and there were other things he could eat after today. He wouldn’t be the only clone that would pass on the hash after the First Breakfast, and no one held it against any of the others.

You watched as Ether filled the young clone’s plate with spicy pepper hash, telling him it was the most popular dish at the prison. He didn’t lie, exactly. It was. Loved by both clone troopers and prisoners, the hash was easily mass produced, cheap, and came frozen, allowing it to be safely stored for long periods. It was perfect for the prison, and the workers and inhabitants it contained.  He just left out the ‘it’s so spicy it will make you cry’ part. The new trooper didn’t even know what spicy was, let alone that it caused physical pain, but Ether and the other clones did, and you did too. Unfortunately for the young shiny, you didn’t know that he never eaten anything spicy before. The clone troopers seemed to love it, so why would you think the new guy would be any different.

Ether and his buddies led Toast to a table, in his hands his full plate and a small glass of water. The others had also chosen the spicy pepper hash, but had chosen to drink blue milk instead. “Kriff”, you thought to yourself, “that hash is really spicy. The other troopers are drinking blue milk, but he’s only got a glass of water. He doesn’t know what he’s in for”. You made the decision right then, if this is what Ether has in mind for his ��prank”, you’ll have a glass of blue milk ready for what you felt was inevitable. If you were wrong, well, you would just have a glass of blue milk to drink for yourself. No harm, no foul, you could play it off as being thirsty and not bother the clones as they went about their business, but you wanted to be ready in any case. You didn’t like a bully, in any case, and if you had to take the new trooper the milk you could just play it off as just getting to know your new coworker, even if you didn’t work in the same area as he did.

You watched as the troopers started chowing down on their breakfasts, some eating slowly and savoring their meal, others shoveling it in as fast as they could. The new trooper dug in as well, but you noticed his face started turning red almost as soon as the hash hit is tongue. Most of the others with him had already started sipping on their milk, but the new clone was guzzling down his water before he ha d finished his first bite, coughing and trying to catch his breath as the strange food burned his mouth. You decided then that the prank had gone too far, and you got up to take the milk to the beleaguered clone.

“Here”, you told him. “Drink this. It will help take the spiciness away.” Toast, brow covered in sweat, eagerly took the milk from your hand and downed it in record time. “I’ll get you some more if you’d like.”, you said, and he vigorously nodded affirmingly. While you headed back to refill his milk, his brothers all gathered around him, patting him on the back jovially and welcoming him to the crew. On your way back to the table you noticed the small smile on his face, presumably for sufficiently passing the “test” and becoming one of the group. You still didn’t like Ether’s prank, but it did warm your heart to see the new trooper take it in stride, and his brothers gathering around to celebrate his official first day guarding the worst of the worst the galaxy had to offer.

While you were getting him a refill of milk you had an idea. Just because he had a bad experience with the spicy pepper hash didn’t mean that he couldn’t still have some breakfast. The problem was knowing what he liked. You had absolutely no idea. So you decided on the safe bet: toast. You grabbed a plate, a butter knife, and a fork, a couple of pieces of toast, and one pack each of butter and jogan fruit jam. Returning to the table you sat down at the seat opposite of Toast, placing the glass of milk and the plate in front of him, silently smacking yourself in the head when you noticed you added an unnecessary fork to the mix. Thoughts of how he would think you were an absolute idiot ran through your mind, but he looked up at you and smiled, graciously accepting the milk and toast.

He looked at the plate quizzically, before asking “What is this?” You were sure that he wouldn’t trust anything anyone else brought him after the fiery start to his first day, but he listened intently as you explained the different items you had placed on the plate. You told him the toast was an easy to eat food, not spicy and well tolerated by most people, and the butter and jam were used as spreads for the top. You thought he may like it more than the hash, so you brought it to him to try.

He seemed to accept your explanation, and after showing him how to add the butter and jam to toast you watched him take a bite. He chewed for a moment before his eyes went wide and a big smile split his face. Swallowing, he took a sip of milk, then looked back to you and exclaimed that it was the best thing that he had ever eaten in his life. At least, it was the best thing he had eaten up to that point.

“Well then, toast-boy, I’m glad there’s food here that you can enjoy. It’s my favorite food in the mess, I don’t really trust anything else, honestly.” You sat together at the table for a few minutes, asking each other questions and learning about your new friend. As the clock moved closer to the official start of your own day, you moved to wrap up your conversation, and you steered in the direction of your names. After you had officially introduced yourself, he looked at you sadly. He had never had a problem with not having a name before, but now he had to give you his designation, which felt inadequate, but he gave you what he had and explained that he hadn’t chosen a name for himself, and no one had given him a name either.

He didn’t have a name? How odd. Although you rarely worked with the clones directly every one you met had a name of some sort. Was it normal not to have a name? You didn’t know, but kind eyed clone gave you as much as he had. He was nice, and was good conversation, so you hoped that you would see him again.

“Listen, next time I see you, how about I call you Toast instead of those numbers? It would be easier for me to remember”.

“Yeah, I’d like that. ‘Toast’. Thanks for the name!”

You saw him in the mess every morning for breakfast from that day on.

[juuten]

For You | Tenma Sumeragi

@chewie-santatoast​ says:  Merry Christmas! How about ‘secrets’ with Tenten? ❤️💚🤍🧡

Aimee replies: Hello! Thank you so much for requesting! Sorry I couldn’t greet you ‘Merry Christmas’ during that time :< That’s why I wish you a very advanced Merry Christmas! Also, stay safe and healthy!

This fic really took me a while to finish mainly because I needed to revise/shorten lots of parts. But surprisingly, I didn’t stray away from my initial idea when I thought of secrets and Tenma.

Anyway, the story takes place before Act 2. I hope this story will make you smile :D

For ‘A December with You’ event.

Today, Summer Troupe made sure to have the living room for themselves.

Fairy lights hung on the walls, painting the living room with an orange glow. Blankets and pillows surrounded the coffee table with a plate of onigiris on it. However, a winter’s night would never be complete without steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Muku delicately placed three mugs beside the onigiris, Yuki setting down the other two.

“Mr. Triangle!” Misumi grinned at the familiar triangle drawn on his cup of hot chocolate.

Muku grabbed his cup and giddily sat on his star-patterned blanket. "Mine's a crown!"

"The bear's almost like mine.” If one looked closely, a small smile dangled on Yuki’s lips.

Tenma reached for his mug and peeked at what Kazunari drew for him. "Is this a bonsai?"  

"Yep yep!" Kazunari sat on his spot in the living room. Then he winked and made a peace sign. “Kazunari Miyoshi’s latte art, everyone!”

Tenma's lips curled upwards. "Not bad." 

"Yippie! Now everything's set," Kazunari clapped his hands, "Operation ‘Tenten Living as a Non-Celeb: Christmas Edition,’ start!” 

But before Kazunari had the chance to show off his plans, the doorbell rang. Muku, being closest to the door, set down his mug and stood up.

"Who is it?" Muku said as he opened the door.

A brunette man wearing a gray suit smiled at him. “Good evening and advanced Merry Christmas, Muku-san.”

“Ah, Igawa-san! Likewise." Muku politely bowed.

Igawa set down an enormous sack on the ground. It looked like it was about to burst at any moment. "Please accept these gifts for the MANKAI members. Sumeragi-san and I chose them with utmost care." 

Then Igawa placed a thick scrapbook on Muku’s hands. "Also, please give this to Tenma-kun."

Muku obediently nodded. "I will! And thank you so much, Igawa-san!"

Igawa bowed and bid farewell before driving off. Muku secured the scrapbook under his armpit. Then he rolled up his sleeves. Pulling the sack with all his might, he trudged towards the living room.

“Mukkun, are you- Woah! Where did that super-duper big sack come from?” Kazunari’s eyes became as wide as saucers when he saw the boy set down the sack beside the Christmas tree. 

“It’s from Igawa-san and Tenma-kun's parents. They're gifts for us," Muku said in between pants. Tenma made a mental note to call his parents later.

Misumi put a familiar yellow triangle with a Santa Hat on Muku’s palms. “I'll give you Mr. Triangle Claus!”

Muku giggled and said thanks. When Muku returned to his spot, he presented the scrapbook to Tenma. “Tenma-kun, Igawa-san said this scrapbook was for you."

Tenma looked at him with confusion. Igawa always dropped off gifts from fans at his house while he delivered the important ones to the dorms. The gifts for the members were certainly one of those. However, the scrapbook was questionable. He was sure his parents did not make this; their careers always ate almost all of their time. Igawa was possible. However, Tenma knew managing his schedule was currently hectic. He always received more offers for both acting and modeling during the Christmas season. 

Suddenly, another potential person popped inside his head. With wide eyes, Tenma said, “Muku, who did it come from?"

“Um…” Muku flipped the scrapbook. He stumbled upon some initials at the far corner of the scrapbook. “There’s (First Letter of First Name) (First Letter of Last Name) written at the bottom.”

Within a blink of an eye, Tenma grabbed the scrapbook from his hands. All of the Summer Troupe members looked at each other in mild bewilderment.

Kazunari was the first one to recover as he playfully nudged Tenma’s arm. “Hey, Tenten, who’s (First Letter of First Name) (First Letter of Last Name)?”

“S-someone I'm close with!” 

Yuki suspiciously eyed Tenma as he drank his cup. “Hm…” 

Tenma fidgeted under his gaze. “Wh-what is it?”

Yuki placed his cup on the coffee table. Then with a menacing look, he said, “If you don’t tell us who they are, I’ll make you wear that rabbit costume again on Veludo Way. This time, alone.”

Misumi grinned. “I want to see rabbit Tenma again."

“That was supposed to be a one-time thing!” Tenma protested.

“Maybe the money-grubbing yakuza will increase the budget for costumes if I tell him the hack will advertise MANKAI Company this Christmas.” Yuki tapped his chin in thought.

Tenma grumbled. He was always careful to not expose your relationship with him when he was barely prepared. But now that his reputation (dignity) was on the line, he could not remain tight-lipped. Letting out a defeated sigh, he said, “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

Tenma breathed in before saying, “The initials stand for (First Name) (Last Name). It’s my girlfriend’s name.” 

“Someone managed to date the hack, huh," Yuki said.

“What do you mean by that!” The man in question violently reacted.

"Hold up, fam. Since we're on this topic," Kazunari wrapped his shoulder around the orange-haired man and shot him a grin, “we should look at the scrapbook together!"

Tenma glared at Kazunari. “No way. And this isn’t part of your operation or what in the first place!”

"It's fine, it's fine!" When Tenma still had a scowl on his face, Kazunari clasped his hands and pleadingly looked at him. "C'mon, Tenten! Please!" 

Tenma hugged the scrapbook to his chest. He knew he was doomed to be teased once he showed the scrapbook. Knowing you, you put lots of pictures he was unaware that you took them. Nevertheless, this was a risk he would rather take instead of wearing a rabbit costume for the whole Veludo to see. Besides, he trusted that his members would never leak his and your private lives to the public. 

Tenma unwrapped his arms from the scrapbook and placed it on his lap. “Fine. But no taking of pictures or videos.” With that, everyone sat closer to Tenma. 

Tenma’s heart pounded as he opened the scrapbook. A photo of a smiling couple sitting on a flowery meadow filled up the upper part of the first page. Below the picture was a handwritten caption that said, "First date planned by Yours Truly ☆." Then at the bottom of the page, there was a colored drawing of the meadow. Tenma's eyes widened in astonishment. Your illustration looked the same as he remembered. The difference was you put a dried sunflower at the center above the flowery meadow and drew its stem.

"(First Name)'s drawing and design are totes amazing! Kudos to her!" Kazunari said, which Tenma replied with a proud 'of course!'

Muku turned to the orange-haired man with excitement gleaming in his eyes. "Tenma-kun, what did you do on your first date?" 

"Did you find triangles with her?" Misumi asked.

"Only the Trianglian will do that there," Yuki commented.

“We had a picnic, talked and took some photos. Then, uh...” Tenma scratched his head, trying to remember any fascinating but not too embarrassing moments from his first date. "We also played Twenty One Questions.”

“So what do you do?” Tenma asked the moment you proposed this game.

“We just alternately ask each other twenty-one questions and answer them. The questions can be about anything at all!” A mischievous glint passed your eyes, which you covered up with a smile.

Your boyfriend seemed to be unaware of it as he smirked. “I’ve handled many interviews, so this one’s easy.”

“It’s still your first time playing this though. That’s why I’ll start asking you.” You intertwined your hands with his. Then with the most serious face you could muster, you said, “If you meet an alien who lands in Japan, what is the first thing you will give them?”

You tried to hold back your laughter when you saw his dumbfounded face. He was so confident seconds ago, and now, he was a flustered mess. 

You brushed your thumbs on his hands to help him relax. “It’s only a hypothetical question, Tenma-san. You don’t need to think too much about it.”

“Still, how did you even come up with that question?”

You wagged your index finger. “It’s not yet your turn to ask a question.”

“I can’t ask at all?!”

“That’s a question, Tenma-san.”

Tenma groaned, making you laugh. Then he scratched his head. “I’ll give the alien a map of Japan, I guess.”

You frowned. “I don’t know if they can understand our language though.” Then you shook your head. “Well, a map’s still a good choice!”

You squeezed his hands. “It’s your turn to ask a question, Tenma-san.”

Now that Tenma paid attention to it, you still used an honorific for him. It was progress compared to the early days wherein you called him by his last name. At that time, it was so awkward for him; it felt like you two were co-workers instead of lovers. But even now, he wanted you to be comfortable with him. With those thoughts, he said, “You know you could drop the honorific, right?”

You nodded. “I know. But I can’t just casually call someone who I really respect and admire.”

At the corner of your eye, you saw a pair of bloomed sunflowers near your side. You unclasped your hands from his and plucked the sunflowers. Giving one to him, you said with a tender smile, “To my sunflower who I adore.”

Muku tightly hugged his pillow to his chest. “That’s so romantic of (First Name)-san!”

“Yeah… but then she asked another random question for the game.” Tenma sighed at that. Then he looked at the next page. Red painted his cheeks as he saw a stolen shot of him eating your homemade sandwich.

“The sandwich is a triangle!” Misumi grinned.

“You’re right, Sumi! It is!” Kazunari patted him on the back. 

Meanwhile, Yuki pointed at the picture and said, “Hack, you eat like a kid. Look at the crumbs on your mouth.”

“It only happened during that time! Besides��� (First Name)’s sandwich was delicious,” Tenma murmured the latter part as he munched on an onigiri.

As Tenma continued to tell what happened in the other photos, his gaze softened. He never thought that he would enter a romantic relationship and last this long. After all, school and his career demanded so much of his attention. But this scrapbook proved him wrong. It carried the many memories both of you made. If he had to choose his fondest memory of you, it would be you watching his performance. Tenma beamed with pride whenever he saw you laughing, crying, or overall getting hooked alongside the audience. It meant that Summer Troupe’s efforts paid off. Moreover, he got to express his gratitude towards you through his acting. Nonetheless, the ambitious actor would never stop improving and showing you the best performance. 

As Tenma flipped to another page, a photo fell out and landed beside Kazunari’s lap. The latter looked down and picked it up. Kazunari stopped chewing his onigiri, his jaw dropping in surprise. 

“OMG! Tenten, you look super cute!” Tenma had no time to react as Kazunari shoved the photo to his face. Tenma grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand out of the way. 

“Kazunari, what-” 

The orange-haired man froze. Out of all the pictures, why did you include this one in the scrapbook? It was a photo he definitely could not show to anyone without stripping his dignity away. But you were an exception since you begged for it as your birthday present. Still, you owning the photo did not mean you could put it without letting him know first! Anyone else could see it the moment the scrapbook landed at the dorm. And news traveled fast in a dorm with many people.

Misumi giggled. “It’s baby Tenma.”

“He doesn’t have the ‘Ore-sama’ air around him yet,” Yuki said as he stared at the photo.

Tenma snapped out of his trance and snatched the picture from Kazunari. "Oi! You don’t need to see it!” 

Misumi tilted his head in wonder. “But it was in the scrapbook.”

"Yeah, but still!" 

Then Muku noticed the black ink on the back of the polaroid. Tugging on Tenma’s sleeve, he said, “Tenma-kun, I think there’s something written at the back.”

Tenma begrudgingly flipped the photo on its back. He immediately recognized your handwriting that wrote the following message:

I hope your true friends will see all of your sides that I love, including this one. 

P.S., Merry Christmas, Tenma-san! I hope you like my gift ♡ 

Tenma covered his face with his hand, trying to fight off the smile forming on his lips.

[northcarolinanative]

𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞

Requested by @maybebanks : K so y/n and jj have a little thing going as pogues and they always flirt, one day when they want to take their relationship to the next level and they are drunk, they are about to hook up and jj takes off her shirt, he sees loads of bruises and asks her how because he’s protective. She gets really defensive and denies anything. The next day at John b’s house y/n brings it up because he is really worried. Y/n lies again but jj has never looked more worried. They side with him and y/n storms away, she gets abused at home. The pogues corner her and force her to tell the truth, she does and they all hug?

A/N: I am sooo sorry that this took so long. I really wanted to do it justice and did not want to romanticize abuse in any way shape or form, because I see that too often. If you are going through anything like this at all or feel like the character, please, please, please, reach out to someone you feel that you can trust. The first step is the hardest, but in the long run will help so much. 

TW: Mentions of Abuse, Angst 

John B, Kie, and Pope all sat in the lounging beach chair that encircled the fire that we all had built behind the Chateau. I walked out carrying the next round of beer, but this time just bringing the whole case, pouring them into the ice cooler. I grabbed myself one, tossing one across the way to Kie. I stood up opening my own. 

“Mind bringing me, one princess” JJ called from the Hammock. I grabbed a second can from the cooler walking over before flicking water from my hands on to JJ. “That so not cool” 

I sat down on the opposite side of the Hammock. “If we’re getting wet now…” JJ said in a soft quiet voice, followed by a chuckle. His comment caused my cheeks to blush as I shot glare his way before looking around to see if any of the other pogues had heard his comment. JJ and I were in a weird place. We flirted like middle schoolers, one of us always going at it with the other and vice versa. I wondered how the other pogues could breathe with the amount of tension between the two of us sometimes. I was not in the place for a relationship of any kind. My parents liked to remind me of that often, that if I did not change how I acted or looked that boys wouldn’t take an interest in me. They were right, I had a lot of personal work to do. JJ flirts with everyone though, so I don’t take it too seriously. 

The night was filled with drinking games, chugging contests, and other events that lead to our very intoxicated state. Everyone was slumped over and slightly slurring their words. “Never have I ever…” John B looked up at the sky, trying to think. “Had sex outside, under the stars” Everyone was still. JJ slowly lifted the beer can and took a sip. 

“You kinky little bitch” Kie laughed along with the rest of us. I looked up at the stars, they felt like everything was rotating around me. I am the center of the universe. I am drunk. 

“Your turn Kie,” Pope told her. 

Reading the group she said “Never have I ever wanted to go to sleep right now” 

The group laughed in unison and we all began to sit up and gather things. JJ leaned over to where I was, now, sitting up in the hammock we were sharing. “I’m gonna stay out here, watch the fire die down, stay with me?” I nodded. 

“Of course. Don’t want our baby to get scared out here in the dark.” I laughed. The other three started their way back to the house, turning around and realizing that we had not followed. 

“Y’all coming inside or?” John B called 

“Gonna head in after the fire dies down dude” JJ called back. They all waved and JJ and I watched them go inside. Moments after the door shut JJ pulled me down into him. I flinched a little as he pulled me toward him, his hand directly on a bruise on my lower back. I quickly tried to play it off as a yawn, I thought he didn’t notice, but he did. 

His breath was warm on my skin before I felt his lips brush against mine. I was shocked at first. I was not sure where this came from. I moved back and kissed him back moving my hands into his hair. What was he doing? Hell, what was I doing? 

He pulled away and moved his lips to my neck briefly. “Why don’t we add having sex outside to your ‘never have I ever’ list?” JJ breathed into my ear making me giggle. We were still spinning and I went back to kissing him. It was spark after spark his hand found their way to my shirt slowly pushing it up and off behind me in the hammock. JJ slowly started kissing down my chest, slowly sucking on the skin. He let his eyes travel down. Then he saw it. His heart stopped and he sobered up quickly, His mind moving fast. 

“JJ?” I looked at him. “Why’d you-” I followed his eyes down to where he was looking. I saw the bruises on both of my sides, being illuminated by the dying fire. 

“Y/N?” JJ backed away a little looking back down. My buzz was still there but I was sobering up quickly. I tried to keep my hands from shaking. As they were still rested on JJ’s shoulders, I did not want to give myself away. The bruises had come from my father, he was not the best, he provided the things I needed, but if I did not do as he expected, that is how he relayed the message. This time it was because you had stayed out with the pogues too long. John B’s van had broken down, meaning you had a long wait to get home, and that was unacceptable.

“Who did this to you?” I felt JJ tense up as he asked the question. I felt bad for the lie that I was about to tell him, but he has his own problems to worry about, with his dad. I did not need the others worrying about me either. 

“JJ no one did this to me.” I laughed slightly, it didn’t sound convincing, but I hoped that it was enough for JJ. “I feel cleaning the boat the other day, it was a nasty fall, between the boat and the dock.” I looked at him trying to read his expression. He didn’t say anything just kept looking between my eyes and the bruises. “The fire is pretty much dead, let’s just go to bed” I stood up and grabbed my shirt turning to face away from him, I began to put my shirt on, and that’s when he saw the healing bruise on your back. He knew I had lied to him. 

“Y/N, where did the bruise on your back come from then?” JJ asked. I had completely forgotten about that one. 

“JJ you know I’m clumsy!” I fired back, my tone becoming defensive. JJ got up from the hammock.

“You know you can talk to me, about anything? 

“Just drop it okay? Nothings wrong, nothings going on, I’m fine!” I said, turning back toward the house. I walked inside to find Kie passed out on the left side of the pullout. I pulled the covers back and slipped into the right side. 

“Everything alright?” Kie mumbled sleepily. “I thought I heard you and JJ bickering?” 

“Haha nothing serious, Dude thinks he’s a better surfer than me.” Another lie. I hated it, but I didn’t want anyone to worry about me, I was fine. Kie nodded and rolled back over. I settled down in bed before I fell asleep. I heard JJ enter the back porch and rustle around some cans, I guessed he was sleeping on the couch out there tonight.  

-- 

JJ was woken up by John B moving about in the back yard cleaning up from the night before. He rubbed his eyes and stretched out a bit, the back couch was probably the least comfortable of the options in the house. He walked back out to John B, sitting in one of the chairs. He ran a hand through his hair, staring out over the water. “Everything okay JJ?”John B said, pulling JJ out of his thoughts. 

“Yea” He breathed. “Well not really, no,” he said standing up to help John B pick up the trash. 

“I heard you and Y/N out here last night, what was that about?” He questioned. 

“Dude I don’t know, but I’m worried.” He said John B looked at him confused. “We were…” JJ coughed and cleared his throat “Anyway, she had bruises, all over her stomach and her back. When I asked about it she said that they came from falling off the boat because she was clumsy” 

“Okay?” John B questioned, he did not want to believe what JJ was getting at. “Maybe she was telling the truth.” He asked

“No,” JJ said quickly. “You weren’t there, They were bad, some were healing already, it was not just like fall, They were bad John B.” He began to pace around the small circle. “Some’s hurting her JB. I have to figure out who it is, get her away from them.” He started to get angry, throwing the empty beer can harshing onto the ground. He thought about how sweet I was to him when he would come to after a bad run-in with his dad, or how I patch up all the boys after they got in it with one of the kooks, or even when I was there, letting Kie cry on your shoulder after her parents getting angry with her for not choosing the kook life. “She doesn’t deserve this” 

John B and JJ headed inside to find Pope scrounging through the food in the pantry, and Kie sitting up on her elbows. She exhaled smoke, but put a finger to her lips, pointing at me, still sleeping. JJ looked at me, his eyes soft, causing Kie and Pope to exchange a confused glance with one another. John B patted JJ’s shoulder “Lets help Pope make some grub, yea?” He said trying to pull JJ out of his thoughts.

I woke up to the sight of everyone in the kitchen laughing. I sat up looking at my friends. “Y’all started the fun without me?” I joked. I leaned against the headboard, pulling my knees up to my chest just to watch the four try and cook. This did not happen often, so I might as well savor it. 

“Look who’s finally up! Sleeping beauty!” Kie laughed. 

“Haha” I said rolling my eyes.”After last weeks party you were dead to the world till the next night” She glared at me playfully before laughing

“That is only half true” 

JJ began making his way beside me. The events of last night, the moments between the two of us. If the fire had only been slightly dimmer ,I would be experiencing something completely different, awkward feeling. He sat on the bed next to me, pulling me in closer by wrapping his arm around your shoulder. Pope and Kie looked at John B who just shrugged his shoulders and continued cracking eggs. The other pogues continued their work with breakfast. 

“I’m worried about you” JJ spoke softly, so only you could hear him. I quickly glanced over at the other busy pogues, before looking at JJ. His eyes were dark, he looked tired, and the worry looked evident on his face. 

“JJ, look” I whispered, running a hand through my hair and letting out a deep breath. “I told you I’m clumsy.” I looked him in the eye, but quickly looked down. “You have nothing to worry about.” 

He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. This caught the attention of the other pogues. “Look me in the eye and tell me. Look me in the eye and tell me not to worry.” JJ said in a normal voice. Everyone was looking at us now. My face turned red and tears started to form in my eyes. Everyone was looking at me. I had lied to all of them. I froze looking between JJ and the group. 

“Tell him not to worry about what Y/N” Pope spoke slowly. 

“Nothing! Do not worry about me!” I said firmly. I got up quickly feeling the hot tears begin to fall down my face as I quickly walked out the back door of the Chateau. I walked into the yard seeing the hammock that JJ and I had laid in the night before and I stopped. 

“Y/N! Wait” I heard JJ yell and he came up behind me. He followed my eyes to the hammock. “I know what I saw Y/N. I just want to help” 

I felt the sobs trying to fight their way out. I did not want to lie to my friends anymore. I did not want them to see me differently, how I see myself, but especially how my parents see me. JJ noticed me crying. “You can trust us Y/N” 

“You wanna know where the bruises came from JJ?” I breathed out, a breath I realized I was holding in.  “My parents JJ, that’s who. I’m not the daughter they expected okay?” I finally felt the sobs leaving my throat as I fell to my knees crying. I held my face in my hands. JJ was quick to run beside me rubbing my back. 

“Oh Princess. You don’t deserve this. Believe me you do not deserve this.” He felt a tear of his own leave his eye before quickly wiping it away. The others were standing on the porch. When I calmed down, my breathing had started to even out, JJ asked if I wanted to go back inside to join the others, who left to give us some privacy. 

When we walked in Kie was the first to practically tackle me in a hug, then JJ, John B, and finally Pope. I felt loved in that moment, like I always did when I was surrounded by the pogues. When they all pulled away Kie put both hands on either of my shoulders. “Never hesitate to reach out to one of us for help, or even to talk, we’re here for you, just as much as you are here for us, ok?” 

“Ok.” I sigh before pulling her back into a hug. She walked back into the kitchen. JJ pulled on my arm, sitting me down next to him. He wrapped his hand in mine, before placing a kick kiss to it. 

“I didn't mean to pry like that. I just want you to be safe Y/N” I leaned my head on his shoulder. 

“I know J. I'm sorry for lying to you. In a weird way, it feels better to have it out there.”

“We’re gonna help you get to a better place” He spoke softly before placing a kiss to my forehead.

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Venn Diagram

Venn Diagram Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: DabiTwice; Implied Huwumi Summary: DabiTwice Week Day 2 Prompt Fill: Part of a longer DabiTwice Pro Heroes AU I have in the works and may have spoilers for more recent manga chapters if you aren’t up to date. Dabi reminded himself that he should maintain his composure, as expected of a Pro of his caliber. After all, it was just a civil meeting with another Pro to discuss agency lines and the swiping of a culprit. So what if the other Pro in question had a jawline of immaculately chiseled marble? He certainly didn’t care! Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

Also Minor Trigger Warning: Implied/ Referenced Mental Illness

Touya checked his appearance in the mirror for the upmtenth time in the last five minutes. He shouldn’t be this worked up, he reminded himself, fussing as if it was a real date. It wasn’t a real date, he insisted to himself for an even larger attempt. Sure, the other had practically purred the invitation to coffee at him but that didn’t mean anything! It was just two guys hanging out and discussing the logistics of whether or not the other had stolen Dabi’s target from him! At a coffee shop that the other insisted was great for getting a handle on someone else!

So what if Bubaigawara Jin was 5’Hunk tall with a warming grin and sharp eyes? Touya certainly didn’t care! This was strictly business!

Which was why he’d spent two hours the prior night stressing over his outfit.

And then another hour and a half fussing over it when he woke up.

And planned to come up with an incredibly clever lie to tell Father as to where he was going, because God forbid Father know who it was Touya’s little meetup was with.

Touya groaned and scrubbed his face with his hands, reminding himself to stay calm as anxiety caused his skin to prickle with warmth. He was usually incredibly good at keeping his Quirk under control and had learned early on that his emotions correlated to it. Thankfully enough, Father had been quick to come up with tactics to handle his flames so as to halt his harming himself and allowing him to pursue Pro Heroics professionally, eager to follow in his father’s footsteps.

Which placed him back in the current moment.

Todoroki Enji was not an easily impressed or rattled man, more times than not seeming cruelly indifferent. This was, of course, just how the public saw him. Touya and his siblings knew that, while a harsh critic and incredibly awkward at expressing his feelings, Father was an ultimately good and kind man. He was also, however, a very disciplined and serious man, who took pride in his work and shouldered the weight of his profession with the kind of regalia he expected of others.

It was most likely why he had some rather… strong opinions about his peers.

The obvious ones were Number One Pro All Might, who he made his disdain and resentment for apparent all the time. After that came Hawks, ranked Number Three, who he found irritating due to his haughty behavior. They were the two big standouts due to their close ranking to Endeavor himself but much more so in how they had the ability to set him off in the first place with minimal effort. Hawks was your standard troll the handful of times they’d interacted, playfully digging at the older man in ways that he knew would set him off behind closed doors and then smiling through the tongue lashing. All Might was an unintentional irritant. His apparent ignorance to Endeavor’s self-imposed rivalry between them seemed to only further push Enji’s buttons regarding it.

And then there was Pro Hero Torrential, whose agency was their neighbor and Enji held equally strong opinions about. More times than not, he could be heard grousing about that “uncouth sea hag and her salty little hooligans” just across the way. Torrential herself was relatively skilled at what she did - well enough to rank in the top 25 - but she seemed to revel in firing Enji up more than chasing down baddies. Her own Quirk was water-based so she was always quick to use it to her advantage along with passive aggressive jabs just to prod at Endeavor’s ego. If Touya was honest, he didn’t understand his Father’s reasons for falling for it every time. After so long, he figured that it was the reaction that had Torrential poking and prodding like she did. Furthermore, there were 20 ranks separating them on the charts, so why should her opinion matter so much? Or was it more a matter of how frequently she was able to rattle his cage? However, Torrential was part of why Touya felt compelled to lie about who he was meeting up with.

Jin was also a Pro Hero by the name of Twice, who was Torrential’s faithful right hand man.

He shook his head and started to make his way down the halls to head out. As he walked through, he realized that it seemed Father was nowhere to be seen. Had he stepped out for something? He knew he was off work today, but it wasn’t impossible that something had come up. The man was a workaholic, after all. He felt himself relax at not needing to have any kind of story figured out. He stopped at the door to lace on his boots only to jump as Father walked in, Shoto and two of his little friends a few paces behind him. “Touya? Where are you going?” Enji asked.

He opened his mouth to answer, trying to keep the panic from being too obvious, when there was the sound of quick footfalls behind them. “Touya, you jerk! I told you I just needed an extra minute to finish getting ready!” All eyes shifted to Fuyumi as she came bustling into the entryway, pouting at her brother with her hands on her hips, all dolled up for a trip of her own.

It took Touya less than two seconds to roll with it. “Not my fault you take forever,” he drawled with an overly dramatic roll of his eyes.

Enji looked between his older two children with a raised brow. “Where are the two of you going?”

“Akiko and I wanted to go shopping today,” Fuyumi said as she stepped down to put her own shoes on, “but Mom was worried about us going out alone, what with all the escalated Villain activity lately.”

“So I offered to go with as bodyguard in exchange for Yumi paying for my grub,”

Shoto blinked slowly. “Hopefully you’re gonna have two servings, because I get the feeling they’re gonna use you like a pack mule,” he quipped flatly.

“Shoto! So mean!” Fuyumi gasped while Touya released a sharp bark of laughter. Shoto wasn’t always the best with his comedic timing, but when he was, he always nailed a bullseye!

Enji made a small noise of agreement. “I see. I was hoping you could help me with these three today, but this is much better,” the older man said with a small nod. “You two look after one another out there. And if you need anything, just call. We’ll be there at a moment’s notice if you need the assistance.”

“Of course, Father,” Fuyumi said, giving him a brief hug and quick peck to one cheek before waving at Shoto and his friends. “Have fun training, boys. And don’t let Father work you guys too hard.”

“I think it’s actually the other way around,” Touya hummed, grinning mischievously when Enji scowled at him. “You aren’t exactly a spring chicken any more, old man.”

“In yet I can still run circles around you,” he said back, the only shift to his expression being the slightest twitch to the left corner of his mouth.

“What did you sa-!” He was suddenly jerked away from the brewing squabble by Fuyumi tugging on his arm.

“Touya, you and Father can bicker later! We’re gonna be late!” With that final declaration, he was unceremoniously dragged out the door, Shoto and his friend with the green hair waving at them.

Once they were on the street proper, he readjusted himself and glanced sideways at Fuyumi. While her outfit was casual enough for a girl’s day to be plausible, he had his doubts. “So, what are you actually getting up to?” he asked suspiciously.

She flashed him an expectant look. “What, no ‘thank you’ for saying your floundering butt back there?”

“I wasn’t floundering,” he huffed.

“But you would have been the second you had to lie about what you were doing. Because clearly you’re going on a date. And with someone you think Father would disapprove of, if you feel the need to hide it,” she explained evenly. He winced and averted his gaze from her. Fuyumi was an incredibly quick woman, much to Touya’s simultaneous chagrin and relief. She was incredibly in-tune with the people she loved and could piece things out with them with the greatest of ease. This attribute could be a great asset or a detriment, depending on where her loyalties lay at any given moment. “Look, I’m not going to pry or anything. If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”

“Thanks, Yumi,” he said with a small sigh. He felt his shoulders slump a bit as he relaxed. Despite her occasional bratty little sister tendencies, Fuyumi knew when to keep certain things to herself. “Just… I’m going to talk to Father about it eventually. Probably. If anything more comes of this.”

“Not sure if this mystery man is gonna pass the first date test?” she asked while waggling her eyebrows at him playfully.

He contemplated answering that it wasn’t a date, but a work-related conference. Because he was still insisting to himself that it really was only that. “Not sure if I’m gonna pass the first date,” he grumbled quietly.

“Touya,” she said in quiet shock. He tried to ignore her by continuing to walk, but she reached out and grabbed his arm. He stopped and turned to face worried cerulean eyes. “Hey, if the first date doesn’t go well, that’s not your fault. It could just mean you two aren’t as good together as you initially thought.”

“Just like the last two guys I tried to get serious with?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. He didn’t like thinking about it, really. But it felt like… Well, outside of his family name, he didn’t have much to offer a boyfriend. His own rise to acclaim as a Pro was far from glamorous and he knew his tendency towards sarcasm and dramatics weren’t always the biggest appeals to lots of people.

Fuyumi huffed and reached up to lightly pat his cheeks. “Hey,” she said, her tone serious and firm in a delicate way that only she and Mom seemed capable of, “I know what you’re thinking and I’m gonna break down why you’re wrong. You’re successful, you’re funny, you’re smart, you know what you want and how to get it. And, most importantly, you know who you are and don’t put up with other people’s crap. Those guys before? They were just assholes who thought they could ‘fix’ you without realizing you don’t need fixing. It’s not your fault if they were intimidated by you and how comfortable you are in your own skin.”

He opened his mouth to say something before chuckling quietly and closing his eyes. “Damn, just cutting straight through, huh?”

She giggled and let her hands shift to carefully adjust the janked collar of his leather coat. “Now, cheer up! You’re clearly interested in this guy, whoever he is, so focus on having fun!”

“Fine, fine,” he mused, opening his eyes to glance at her again. He realized that they should probably iron out the details of their plan. It’d look suspicious if they came home without the other, after all. “So, how do we wanna deal with the rents when we get back?”

“Akiko’s already aware of the cover story, so I’ll let her know to cover for you, too, just in case. We were going to meet up for dinner around 5:30-6. You can join us for gossip, and then we go home together afterwards,” she suggested as they reached a crosswalk. He nodded as he hit the sign to keep going north, towards the train station, while she moved to go west. “I’ll add you to our text chat so that you know where to meet us at.” With that said, she waved and scampered across the crosswalk as it turned, lifting her hand to wave at a figure waiting on the other side.

Touya froze for a second as he took in the figure, wearing baggy clothes, large shades and a cap with a wide brim. The outfit was clearly a front to keep their actual physical characteristics hidden; whether to avoid the ire of the Todoroki men or not, Touya wasn’t entirely sure. He tilted his head to the side and narrowed his gaze as Fuyumi rushed to their side. They offered one of their arms to her, which she eagerly attached to, her back still facing Touya. The capped figure glanced up briefly and Touya froze at the sharp golden eyes fixated on him, followed by a sly grin.

He was tempted to follow after them but then the crosswalk chimed for him. He decided to leave it until later, given Fuyumi had done him a favor. He couldn’t shake his sudden hunger for barbeque-style chicken wings, though.

Thankfully enough, he showed up right on time at the agreed upon coffee shop. Bubaigawara was waiting out front for him, one hand in the pocket of the bomber jacket he was wearing while the other was scrolling through something on his phone. He perked up as Touya approached, his phone immediately disappearing into his pocket. “Hey! Hope it wasn’t a hassle finding this place,” he prompted.

Touya flashed a small smirk as he reached him. “Think I’ll be disoriented just because we’re in a shop on your agency's side?”

He chuckled and indicated the simple chalkboard display and Wooden hanging sign that read “Bean There, Brew That” above the front door of the shop. “More just because this place is a little bit of a hole in the wall. Owner’s a real sweet lady, though,” he assured before reaching for the door and holding it open for him. “After you, Dabi.”

He laughed as he slipped past. “I ain’t on duty; drop that formal bullshit. Just call me Todoroki or Touya,” he groused.

“In that case, Todoroki,” Twice said as he walked in after him, “fuck the formal bullshit with me, too.”

“Sounds good, Bubaigawara,” he agreed, allowing the other to lead him to the front counter. The shop, as he said, was a simple and laid-back place, with quiet piano music playing over the speaker and only two or three other patrons occupying the joint. The elderly owner was behind the counter, ringing customers up, while her grandkids helped her with preparing orders. Bubaigawara insisted on paying for both their drinks while Touya was sent to find a seat. He ended up selecting a spot by the window.

There was a soft thunk as his drink was set in front of him. “Fan of people watching?” Bubaigawara asked as he settled in across from him.

“Nice way to kill time,” he shrugged, sliding his drink closer. He carefully removed the plastic lid and watched the steam roll out in large uneven plumes, the strong and thick scent of fresh brewed coffee filling his senses. “Tended to do it a lot as a kid. Learned when a lot of the other kids were getting up to dumb shit.”

“Oh, that must have made you real popular with your peers as you got older!” he laughed.

Touya snorted himself as he took a sip of his drink. “Enough so that I got kicked out of my ritzy lil school,” he scoffed. The blonde haired man perked up at that, sipping his own drink and making a noise of interest. Realistically, Touya knew he shouldn’t be sharing this fact so early on. This information was more of a second or third date sort of thing. But… He also didn’t want to have to skirt around parts of himself. He was a work in progress and he wanted to make sure any potential partners were aware. “My first year at UA I got in a real bad fight with some other kid. Now, admittedly, I wasn’t exactly the scholarly type to start with, and I’d butted heads with this particular dick more than once. Ratted him out for cheating on a practical test so him and his buddies jumped me after school. Pretty sure I broke the asshole’s jaw and left him with some permanent burn marks.”

“Sounds like they deserved it, though,” the other said evenly. “I mean, they attacked you. And they outnumbered you. You were just defending yourself.” He took another sip of his drink and flashed an amused smirk. “Plus you’re the one that became a Pro, even without attending a proper Hero school. You’re the one that cared enough to still deserve a career in the field while I’d be willing to wager those dipshits all flunked out or are nothing but coffee jockies.”

Touya froze as he leaned to take another sip of his drink. He blinked three times in quick succession before shaking his head. “What?”

“What?” he parrotted back, glancing back up in surprise.

“You… You’re serious?”

“Yes…? I mean, again, they started it. Did they just expect you to roll over and take it? You wouldn’t just let a Villain you stopped from robbing a bank curb stomp you under the principle of alerting the police that they were going to be apprehended,” he pointed out, waving one hand as he spoke.

Touya continued to stare, mind reeling. While Father hadn’t been angry with him for getting thrown out of UA, he also hadn’t been thrilled. His pride in his son for doing what was right was undercut by his disappointment in that same son not showing the restraint he knew he had. The resulting lecture from Father had been a strange mix, trying to insist he stand by his morals but also knowing when to back down from a fight. Even to this day, though, Touya struggled with that specific concept. After all, it was up to Pro Heroes to protect the public, to assure law and order was upheld. If they didn’t hold other Pros to the same standard, what good was all their preaching? It would be nothing more than moral grand-standing.

“And, I mean, if it makes you feel better, I dropped out of middle school,” Bubaigawara said with another shrug.

“No joke?” Touya asked, relaxing at the table and leaning a bit closer.

He hummed. “That was around the time that, uh, my mental health took a nosedive. Struggled with that shit for a long time. Got this as a result of all that, actually,” he laughed lightly, reaching up to tap the long scar that ran down the center of his scar. Touya had only really seen it a handful of times and always assumed it was something medical, but now that he looked at it closer, he could tell that it wasn’t perfectly symmetrical like he always thought. “I… Kinda gave up, to be honest. Everyone around me gave up on me, so what was the point? I decided to just become who everyone assumed I always was for a good couple of years. But then… After the worst week of my fucking life… Captain found me.”

Touya blinked in surprise. Captain was the term that Torrential’s staff called her by. He knew part of it was as a show of respect and he’d heard she recruited her staff through unconventional means, but the details weren’t something he’d explored. “Huh… And she set you on the right path?”

“Don’t know if she really even meant to get me the way she did,” he confessed with a wistful smile. He sipped his drink and stared outside at the few passersby. “But long story short, she pushed me to follow my passions and gave me the encouragement I needed to do it. But I’ll tell you about that another time.”

A small chuckle escaped Touya at that. “I’ll hold you to that,” he hummed, feeling more at ease on this date than he had on any in the last three years.

And, yes, he finally embraced that he was on a date.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Little Things in Life - 1

Warnings: non-consent sex (series); nothing for this chapter

This is dark!Steveand explicit. 18+ only.

Series Summary: Your suburban life begins to show cracks and your next door neighbour, Steve Rogers, seems intent on shattering what’s left.

Note: I’m still working on Syster and BJB and all my other WIPs. This was supposed to be a one shot but I got about 22 pages out and realised that we weren’t even close to an end. Anyways, hope you enjoy a subtle Steve. Slow burn. Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You liked to do your gardening early. Even on the weekends. You let your husband Logan sleep in; your daughter, Kayla too. You basked in the morning balm as you rooted around for stray roots and watered the leaves which looked a little too brittle in the dew. The birds sang as the neighbourhood still slept. It was a rare moment of your own.

Well, almost all yours. 

You turned at the steady beat of sneakers on the pavement. You stood and dusted off your gloves. Steve, your neighbour from just across the street, stopped as he reached the end of your walk. He smiled and wiped the sweat from his brow. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” You said. “You’ve got a newborn keeping you up all night and here you are, running the entire neighbourhood like it’s nothing.”

He laughed. “Never got much sleep to begin with,” He said. “You know, if you ever get bored of the dirt and grubs, you’re welcome to join me.”

“You know I couldn’t keep up with you, Cap,” You grinned. 

“Not anymore,” He said. “I hung that shield up.”

“Oh yes, Logan told me you let him toss it around.” 

“Well, he tried,” Steve said. “I… you know, I’m happy I ran into you. Me and Sharon, we’re having this thing next weekend. A party for all us restless parents. No kids.”

“Yeah, she was saying the other day.” You replied. “I’m sure I could get the sitter and Logan never says no to a beer or two.”

“Maybe we could hit the felt again. It’s been a while.” He ventured. “We had to move the table but I got the cues all ready.”

“Yeah, maybe,” You said. “So she let you keep it.”

“It’s in the garage now but it’s still in one piece,” He preened. “You should pop by some time. After dinner, I like to try a few trick shots.”

“I’ll try,” You said. “I’m usually the one cleaning up dinner and Kayla. But, maybe we could do doubles sometime. Nap time, maybe.”

“I might be able to convince Sharon,” He rubbed his neck and glanced over at his house. “Speaking of, I should go check in on her. Got a serious diaper run to go on this morning.”

“See ya,” You said. “Say hi to Sharon for me.”

“See ya,” He turned and jogged across the street. 

He stopped at his front door and turned back to look at you as you collected your watering can and basket of tools. He waved and you waved back. A coffee would be nice before you roused the little monster. Saturday was pancake day and she rarely forgot it.

🏠

That day you kept thinking about your neighbours. Steve and Sharon used to be your weekend buddies. You’d stop by after you put Kayla down for the night and have a few drinks. That was until Sharon had gotten pregnant and they’d both descended into full blown panic mode. Baby this, baby that! It was a peculiar type of excitement which had them both beaming and baffled.

You’d seen Sharon for lunch every now and then and at her shower. She was so swept up in it all that she wasn’t as social as before. You were glad to hear she was throwing one of her parties. She was finding her balance again.

As for Steve, you only really saw him in passing. Doing yard work or random chores around the house. He was always busy it seemed. Well, that was life.

You went about your usual Saturday routine; pancake breakfast, dishes, play time with Kayla, lunch, nap time, a walk to the park, dinner… The days only varied when you worked and most times, you did so from home. You were lucky enough to spend much of your time with your daughter, though you wished you could say the same of Logan.

He worked hard, you couldn’t fault him that. Most days, he stayed late. By the time he got home, he was so wrapped up in it that it was all he could talk about. But he was a good dad when he was there. He loved Kayla and he treated you well enough.

Sunday was lazy. The afternoon was disappointing as Logan spent much of it on the phone with his boss. You took Kayla out to the garden so she couldn’t disturb the call. She helped, or tried to help you transfer some flowers from your garden into a pot. Proud of your creation, you took her across the street and knocked on the door.

Steve answered it to your surprise. Sharon was usually quick to the punch. You greeted him with a smile. 

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to disturb, I just thought… well Sharon said she liked the flowers so we brought you some.” You held out the pot.

“You can put them in your garden,” Kayla said cheerily.

“I need to make a garden first,” He grinned at her and took the pot. “Thank you. I’m sure Sharon will find a place for them. She’s just sleeping with the baby right now.”

“I get it,” You said. “We were a bit restless and just wanted to say hi. She wanted to give them to Ethel but you know she has terrible allergies.”

“I appreciate the thought,” He leaned down to talk to Kayla, “You’re getting big, kiddo. How old are you now?”

“Four,” She chimed. “Mommy says I’m old enough to go to school.”

“I would think you are,” He replied as he stood straight. “I’ll let Sharon know you came by. Oh, and… the pool table is still open.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” You offered. “Logan’s taking Kayla to a Paw Patrol show.”

“Tomorrow,” He accepted. “I’m gonna hold you to it.”

“What happened to that friend of yours; James?” You wondered.

“Bucky. He’s around now and then.” Steve shrugged. “But not as much as I like. And he prefers poker.”

“Ah,” You took Kayla’s hand before she could wander away. “Well, I’ll see ya.”

“What time’s the show?” He asked before you could back away. 

“Six.” You answered.

“Then I’ll see you at six-thirty. How’s that?”

“Six-thirty it is,” You confirmed as you picked up Kayla and turned away. “Okay, you little brat, let’s go bug your father.”

🏠

You were glad Logan was getting some time with Kayla. You wished you could go with them but keeping to your new budget, two tickets were all that could be had. The upside was that you didn’t have to sit through the cartoony mascots dancing in an arena full of hyper children.

You gave Kayla a kiss on the cheek and barely sneaked a kiss on Logan’s lips before she tugged him away from you. He strapped her into her seat and gave a smile as he climbed in the front. You smiled as they left but when they were gone, you felt restless. There were only a few times you were without Kayla; at work and during your early morning gardening sessions.

You went inside and wandered around the kitchen for a few minutes. You poured yourself a glass of wine and looked at the clock. You were suddenly very grateful for Steve’s invitation. The game would keep your mind off your listlessness.

You finished your chardonnay and rinsed the glass. You stepped out the front door and found Steve’s garage door open as he ducked beneath it to wave you over. You looked down the street before you crossed and jogged up the drive. 

“Hey,” You entered the cool garage. The pool table took up much of the space not occupied by the aged motorcycle Steve had been working on for years. “What’s up?”

“Oh you know, getting some practice in,” He grabbed the cue leaning against the table and another from the rack on the wall. He handed you one. “Hope you’re not too rusty.”

“You know, I’ve been playing online but it’s not quite the same,” You kidded. “What’s Sharon up to?”

“I asked her if she wanted to come out and join us,” Steve shrugged. “But she’s been on the phone with her mother all day.”

“Maybe next time,” You watched as he set up the balls in the frame.

“You want a beer or something?” He asked as he stood.

“I shouldn’t. I just had some wine. I don’t like to mix drinks… or rather, my body doesn’t.” You chuckled.

“I’m sure I’ve got some wine,” He went to the mini fridge. “Aha, pinot… grigio.” He squinted at the label as he turned around. “Sharon hasn’t touched the stuff in ages. It hasn’t been opened though.”

“Really, I shouldn’t.” You waved him off.

“Come on.”

“Is this some sort of tactic?” You teased. “To get me off my game?”

“Maybe,” He twisted open the bottle and handed it to you. “It’s open. You gotta at least have a sip.”

You tilted your head at him.

“I don’t have any glasses out here,” He grinned.

“Just a sip,” You took the bottle and drank less than a mouthful. You placed it on the metal side table against the wall and fiddled with your cue. He returned to the fridge and grabbed a tall can of beer. “Thought that stuff didn’t get to you.”

“Doesn’t, but it’s comforting,” He approached the other side of the table. “When I was… serving, the men didn’t have much to do but drink on their time off.”

“Ah,” You leaned your cue on the top of your shoe. “It’s like how tequila makes me wanna run as far as I can in the other direction.”

“I guess,” He said. “Guest’s honour. You can break.”

“Alright,” You went to the head of the table and lined up the cue ball. “Wait.” You paused as you bent over the table. “What do I get when I win?”

“If you win,” He corrected. “And, I don’t know. Twenty bucks.”

“No fun. How about… I get to try on the helmet.”

“Helmet?” He blinked.

“That old war relic you have in your den.” You said. “You know I always wanted to try it on.”

“It’s an antique now,” He said. “Rusty.”

“Like you?” You taunted.

“Like me,” He rolled his eyes. “Fine. And what about if I win?”

“Name your price,” You narrowed your eyes at the table and set up your shot.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind a touch of that green thumb,” He said. “I… wanted to do something special for Sharon. Clean out the garden, replant everything that’s died.”

“That’s not really an even trade,” You mused as you hit the ball. “But it’s a bet.” You stood as the coloured balls shot in all directions. Three solids plopped into the corner pockets. “Oh, I also get a selfie in the helmet.”

🏠

You glared at the felt. Then the bottle of wine. You should have stopped at a sip but you had gotten carried away in the game. You’d also missed your last shot and set up Steve to sink the last stripes before he set his eyes on the eight ball. He called the top left pocket and you hoped he missed. Crossed your fingers around the cue.

The clack of the balls echoed in the garage and the black ball made a slow path to the pocket. It tipped over the edge and you curse. You stomped your foot and spun the cue in your hand.

“No fair,” You pouted. “You’ve been practising.”

“And… I’m sure that online pool is quite the workout.”

“Only for my finger,” You held up your index. “So… the garden?”

“Can we start this week?” He asked.

“Sure,” You smiled. “You’ll have to grab seeds or whatever. Please, anything but rose bushes.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know where to begin but I’m sure I could ask someone at the greenhouse,” He mulled.

He went to the table and reached into the pockets. He pulled out a yellow ball and a red ball. He place them parallel at the other end.

“Or maybe… I don’t know, I know you’re busy but you could help me?”

“That wasn’t part of the bet,” You said. “But sure. I can do Wednesday afternoon. I hope you don’t mind if Kayla tags along.”

“Of course not,” He lined up the cue ball in front of you.

“What are you doing?” You stepped away from the table as he grabbed his cue.

“A trick I’ve been working on,” He said. “I saw it online and gave it a go. It’s fun.”

He bent over the felt and hit the ball. It hit the yellow ball which bounced off the red one and sent both of them into opposite pockets. He stood and smirked proudly.

“Your turn,” He rearranged the balls and you frowned.

“I can’t,” You argued. “I think I had too much of that wine.”

“Come on,” He said. “Just give it a try.”

You looked at your phone. It was already past eight.

“It’s not that late,” He urged.

“Fine,” You took your cue and approached the table. 

Your shot was less successful than his. The yellow ball hit the red in but came to a halt several inches from the pocket. You shrugged and stood straight.

“See.” You huffed.

“Practice,” He positioned them again. 

He came around the table as he placed the cue ball before you. He stood behind you as you relented and lined up your shot. You paused as he adjusted the end of your cue and neared. He leaned over you and helped you position the nose of the cue. He was almost flush against you, just for a moment before he backed away.

“You just gotta put some force behind it,” He said as he walked along the side of the table. 

He stepped back to see the table. You hit the white ball and shakily retreated from the felt. The yellow and red split off and the latter plopped into the pocket while the former bounced off the edge of the corner.

“Close,” He said and went to the table. He shoved his hand in the small pocket. “Night’s not over til you get it.”

[ariwilder]

Crazy, Stupid, Potions (6/?) Pairing: Penny Haywood x Jacob’s Sibling (MC)

Summary: Penny is practicing for the upcoming Wizarding Schools Potions Championship and she needs test subjects. One would say, that’s what friends are for, right? Right?!

1- 2- 3 -4- 5-6

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After long hiatus. A new chappie. Love you everyone.

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A fiery looking Beatrice Haywood interrupts you half through your treacle tart early in the morning. Her arrival is so abrupt, a piece of tart falls off from your spoon into your robes. You hear Charlie chuckle behind you.

“Is it true you almost killed my sister with a hug?” She put one of her hands menacingly between Rowan and you. Or at least, that’s what you guess.

You don’t answer instantly. To be honest, much like Penny, you didn’t always know how to treat Beatrice after everything that happened. You open your mouth to answer but Rowan beats you to it.

“Of course not, who told you that?” they ask matter-of-factly. You send Rowan a grateful glance.

“Ismelda.”

You give the younger Haywood a confused look. So, people truly believed you had tried to kill Penny, great. Just what you needed, yet another rumor of death surrounding you.

“Could you hug me?”

You turn violently behind you. The one who had said this was Ismelda, who was giving you a deadpan look. You hadn’t seen her trailing behind the younger Haywood. Bloody hell...

“What the…” you see Rowan frown before elevating their hands dramatically, “you know what? Just leave...”

“But−”

“Leaveeeee.” They drown out.

You see Beatrice glare your way before seeing the pair retreat from your place in the dining table. Not without managing to hear Ismelda whisper an: “At least we tried.”

You push your plate of half-finished treacle tart away from you, you don't feel hungry anymore. You didn’t know if people were looking at you and wondering the same things Ismelda wondered but it definitely felt like it.

“That was morbid, even for Ismelda.” Charlie says before gulping a mouthful of food. Nothing would ever diminish the appetite of a Weasley.

“Yeah.” You slump your shoulders in defeat.

“Charlie, would it kill you not to speak with your mouth full?” Rowan shifts the course of the conversation, managing to egg Charlie into playful banter.

You smile against your low spirits. At least you always have your friends.

You hear from Tonks that Penny was officially discharged from the Hospital Wing early in the morning. You don’t share classes with her that day, but she doesn’t leave your mind all morning, nor do several curious stares from the occasional classmate. You skip lunch that day and ask Rowan to make an excuse for you. You weren’t quite ready to face Penny Haywood in front of so many people, all of the staring was driving you crazy.

It’s early afternoon when you find yourself on your way to the dungeons ready to do some good ‘n old scrubbing of floors. You are quietly grateful when you don’t stumble with anyone on your way until you open the heavy door.

In front of you, Penny Haywood is hunched on her knees scrubbing the floor with a big old grey brush.

“Penny?” you ask dumbly. Of course, it was Penny, you moron.

She looks up with a tired smile. Her face looks flushed from exhaustion, you reason with yourself. Your heart skips the littlest of beats.

“Oh, hey,” she sounds out of breath but doesn’t look surprised to find you there.

“What are you doing here?” you ask her again, being captain obvious.

“Oh you know, good old hobby of mine, coming down here and scrubbing all the grub away from these floors is a favorite pastime of mine, didn’t you know?”

She is only wearing her uniform, and you see her wipe a speckle of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.

She flushes like a tomato instantly when you find yourself speechless.

“It was a joke, never mind,” She blows a couple of strands of sandy hair away from her face and you can’t help but think you had never seen a more endearing scene in your life.

“Of course, it’s a joke, who would enjoy scrubbing floors, anyway?” You scratch the back of your neck nervously and you see her smirk.

“Well, apparently a friend of mine does, because they get so often in trouble with Snape they know the cleaning routine of the dungeon by heart by now.”

“You are right, Tonks looks like the kind of person that would enjoy this kind of weird hobby.”

It feels like a burden is lifted from your shoulders and both of you erupt in laughter after that. You knew she was talking about you.

You decide to join Penny on the floor and sit beside her, throwing your cloak aside with nonchalance.

“So, what are you doing here, then? Did Snape ground you too? Cause that’s of heartless of him, considering you just been recently discharged of the Hospital Wing, then again, this is Snape we are talking about and he is a −”

Penny interrupts your nervous rant with a hand on your forearm. You still hadn’t asked her how she was doing, and that sole fact made your mind go in overdrive.

“A worried soul might’ve told me you had gotten in trouble yesterday.”

“Rowan.”

“Tonks.”

“I was well after curfew yesterday, and Merula −”

“Merula?” Penny’s eyebrows are so high you felt they could easily disappear into her hairline.

“Yeah, never mind Merula,” you say this a bit too fast for your liking, you instantly regret bringing Merula up, “she told on me, and Snape gave me detention.” You shrug, quietly hoping she decides not to interrogate about Merula further. That is a conversation you don’t want to have.

Penny’s scowl relaxes at this as she lets go of forearm.

“I might’ve bargained your detention with Professor Snape. I know I can’t make it up to you this easily, but I feel really sorry about what happened. We can stop the whole experiment if you want to.” She does not look at you when she says this but her voice is so soft if almost breaks your racing heart.

“Penny,” you put a hand over her shoulder, in an attempt to smash your desire to hug her, “I know I might have acted a bit uncertain about this, but I trust you, okay? I know you would never do anything to hurt me. So, the experiment can go on. I think.”

You gulp. The rational side of your brain still felt iffy about the situation, but you were finding yourself not thinking entirely straight whenever Penny Haywood was involved.

“Are you serious?” Her smile is so bright it illuminated the dark dungeon.

“Very.”

She shrieks happily before putting her wand in the air to summon another bucket with bubbling soap and its respective scrub.

“Well, we need to get going if we want to finish before midnight.”

“I thought you said you bargained with Snape!” you point at her in fake disbelief.

Penny Haywood does a loud and playful raspberry. “Of course, I did, Hero of Hogwarts!” She puts both of her hands over her waist, “But the most I could do was offer myself for help. Sorry, I couldn’t be of more help to your majesty.”

She bows after this and you stifle a cackle.

“You better start soon before I change my mind though.” Penny Haywood winks at you before resuming her scrubbing on the floor. You are not sure how serious she says this but it doesn’t matter.

All is swell if you have Penny Haywood by your side.

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you can find it in Ao3: here

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[stxvercgersslut]

Apologise

Description: Jake’s been ignoring Y/n for weeks and only spending time with his friends over his own girlfriend. But after while she had finally had enough. One day she decides to confront him.

A/n: I just had to write this😂 after rewatching the film a few days ago how could I resist? It just needed to be written 😂 (I also made it modern time btw just so it was easier to write for 😂) yeah I know that this is extremely angsty but I promise that there’s a whole lot a fluff at the end so the angsty part is definitely worth it 🥺💞 Jake is one of my ultimate loves that definitely needs some more loving then he got 🥺I didn’t plan on making this a fucking novel but here we are 😂

A/n: and okay yeah this is once again another submission for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 writing challenge how could I not? 😂

Prompts: 2. “Can you just not right now?”and 14. “Did I...fall asleep on you??”

Warnings: Mentions of smut (nothing too descriptive), argument, being ignored, language, mentions of parents dying, mentions of weight loss, just a whole lot of angst, mentions of being poor and small bit of fluff at the end.

Temporary tag list: @jtargaryen18 & @et-lesailes

For weeks Jake has been neglecting you. Much rathering to play football with Reggie Ray and Austin then even hang out with you, his girlfriend of literally almost 1 year. How the hell did that even make sense? You were his girlfriend! Surely you were more important then some football game right? Well wrong! Apparently football was his only love. You’d always come in second to all of that.

Over the course of those insanely long 8 weeks that he’d been pushing you aside you had managed to keep your calm, just ignoring it. Thinking maybe he’d just been having a tough time studying for finals and training for football season. But as time continued to pass, still no texts, calls or even a FaceTime, you began to fear that your once loving relationship with Jake was steadily coming to a almighty close. Something that really did scare the life out of you. You loved Jake with all your heart and to lose him over the fact that he’d rather play football with his friends then hangout with you would send your heart into meltdown. No way could you let this happen to the both of you.

The pair of you were pretty much inseparable during the early stages of your relationship, always opting to spend time over at his house in the warmth then be at home where not even your heater worked. Obviously his sister still trying to fuck him was a huge problem for you, usually making you uncomfortable whenever you were ther but Jake had assured you that nothing was going on between them. Besides, he was just as uncomfortable (if more so) as you were with the immeture and disgusting way Catherin was acting around her BROTHER!

You came from a much poorer family then Jake did. But, surprisingly to you, Jake hadn’t actually seemed to care that you didn’t have any money. In fact he actually much preferred it sometimes since he had gotten to spoil you rotten with peculiar gifts and meals at fancy restaurants that almost 100% of the time just weren’t your style. Yeah he was a asshole sometimes but that didn’t mean that you didn’t love him. Most days you even struggled to pay your rent in your lonely one bedroom apartment that you’d moved into once your parents had past away last year. But no matter how many times Jake had attempted to lend you some of his inheritance in order to help pay rent, you never wanted to take it. Too afraid you’d have to pay it back somehow. There was even a time where Jake had offered for you to move in with him, not that his parents would have agreed with that, yet he didn’t seem to care. Food was hard to come by when you were at home, so whenever Jake had been able to, He’d make sure that you ate or at least tried to eat since he knew that you struggled a lost due to the fact that before you’d started dating him it was hard to get food. You mattered way more to him at the beginning. But right now it didn’t seem like he really seemed to care even a little. No more being at his house for warmth, no daily check ups, no food payed for and no offers to help pay for rent. It was like he’d retracted back to his old self. This wasn’t the Jake you had fallen in love him. He’d changed.

But nonetheless, the tenderness between the pair of you was irreplaceable. So of course you couldn’t just let this come between what the two of you had. But this was going to be a tough one to crack! Especially since you literally hadn’t talked to Jake for 8 WHOLE WEEKS!!! That’s right two months with barely any contact apart from when you were sitting at lunch listening to him blabber on about football or some damn movie he’s watching with his mates. Come on y/n think! It can’t be that hard to figure something out can it?

❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅

There it was again! That unnecessary tension rearing it’s ugly head once again at your usual table in the cafeteria. Jake, being the popular dick he was right now, had made himself comfortable next to you. Slowly taking one quick glance at you before once again completely ignoring you without a second thought. 8 weeks of this bullshit! It was a Miracle that you hadn’t murdered him already for neglecting you the way that he had been doing for 2 whole fucking months! So of course it was understandable that you snapped. Just listening to his smug laugh as he laughed and joked with Austin about the new hot chic was enough to set your entire body on fire.

With a stern look on your face you finally began to talk. Worth a shot right? “So I was won—“ you began as you attempted begin a normal conversation with you boyfriend, not really giving two shits about the fact that you were interrupting his dirty minded talk with Austin since you didn’t really care for the blonde. But before you could even get 10 words out Jake had already stopped you “y/n I’m in the middle of talking with my friend.” He cockily spoke with a shit eating grub appearing on his face for a millisecond before he turned back to his mates in hopes of continuing his ‘innocent’ conversation. Oh but that was not at all what happened. “Oh my bad! Didn’t realise that me literally about to invite you over for sex was me interrupting you. Silly me. I’m only your girlfriend!” You bit back, your glare completely fixed on Jake, not even caring that Austin, Reggie Ray and Malik all now has their mouths wide open in shock like they were having a fly collecting contest. You were half expecting Jake to nervously laugh it off and practically beg for you to forgive him, resulting in a quickie in the janitors closest. But that wasn’t what happened at all. In fact no amount of overthinking could prepare you for Jakes next choice of words.

“Can you just not right now?” The raven haired boy pressed with a insanely serious look on his face now. All thoughts that he might have just been joking had left your head completely. Hearing those words coming from Jakes mouth were like daggers pressing into your head and twisting Infinitely. Not only had it been a shock to you but it had also been a shock to everyone on the table. Jake Wyler, the most popular jock, refusing sex? Most importantly refusing you? What the hell was wrong with him? Oh you intended to find out. But for now you just stood up, shooting one more hurt glare towards your boyfriend before turning on your feet and leaving your spot at the table. Instead seating yourself on a table further away from them so that you didn’t risk another hurtful comment. Now this really was getting out of control.

❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅

Currently, for some unknown reason, YOU were sitting on the large length couch at some unknown douchbags house as you sipped from your red cup. Eyes scanning the room eagerly in an attempt to spot your dick head of a boyfriend. Even if you hadn’t Necessarily been accomanied by Jake to the party you knew for sure that he was a party animal. So why on earth would he miss this? Especially since the place was filled with doubly intoxicated high school students who most certainly were underage drinking. But then again so were you.

However, as you say there waiting for your raven haired beauty of a boyfriend to walk through those doors and unintentionally avoid you once again, you continued to run over your incredibly thought out plan in your head. Knowing with every bone in your body that this plan was most certainly going to get his attention, if not make him throw you over his shoulder, take you back to his place and fuck you until you can’t walk for at least a week. Yeah maybe you were secretly hoping for that second one.

6 drinks in Jake finally arrived at the party, accompanied by Reggie Ray and that stupid smug looking blonde ashole who you had conveniently forgotten the name of at this point. Only this time your raven haired boyfriend actually acknowledged that you were even there by letting his eyes scan over your perfectly curvy body. Which tonight was barely even covered by that incredibly revealing outfit that consisted of: a risky white vest like short with a very thin material that let your light pink bra peak out underneath the fabric, paired with a nude coloured leather skirt that barely covered your ass and some beautiful black boots to accompany the rest of your outfit. Of course this particular get up just so happened to be the only sexy outfit that you owned due to the fact that Jake had bought this for your birthday when you had only just started dating. You could definitely still remember him insisting that you wore this exact outfit to any party he took you to. So why waste it? After all it was just hanging up in your closet.

Even from 5 feet away from him you could still hear the cogs working away in his brain as your outfit caught his attention instantly. And in a matter of moments he was already sauntering over to you. Step one: Grab his attention complete. Oh but he wasn’t going to win that easy. No way was that going to happen! You hadn’t just come to this party wearing such a risky choice of clothing that was so out of your comfort zone to just let him win so easily.

“Hey baby, you wanna dance?” Jake asked with a slight smirk on his face, almost as if he was pretending like all of that god awful neglect hadn’t happened. Which you weren’t going to forget about. But this was operation get Jake jealous after all so you really did have to forget about what he’d been doing, at least for a few hours so that you could continue on with your plan.

Step two: dance with another hot jock who wasn’t Jake. After careful consideration you finally picked your target. Austin. Why? Because you knew for a fact that you dancing with Jakes asshole teenage playboy of a best friend was definitely going to make him jealous. “Sure” you teased, pausing for just the perfect amount of time for Jake to walk closer to you and almost grab your hand before you continued on “just not with you” there it was! Almost a millisecond after the last syllable had left your mouth! That gorgeous face of Jakes contorting into a look of pure jealousy just from those four simple words. “Not with me huh? If I’m not mistake I’m your boyfriend, so why won’t you dance with me?” Jake questioned whilst he still continued to attempt to grab at your waist, failing miserably every single time since you dodged him.

Those words in themselves were enough to light the fire in the pit of your stomach. Reminding you exactly why you had come up with this devious plan in the first place. Jake needed to learn a lesson and he needed to learn it now! Or else you’d most likely end up breaking up with him. “Because I don’t want to dance with my neglectful boyfriend.” You spat back before sauntering over to where Austin was standing, grabbing onto his hand and with no word of warning pulling him onto the makeshift dance floor.

Fiftheen minuets had dragged on by as Jakes eyes remained glued to your figure. Red hot anger coursing through him every time he watched your ass grind up against his friends crotch. Was this pay back for him treating you like your were worthless for 2 months? Because if it was then this was some carefully planned out payback that was not going to be working out in your favour later. “What the fuck!” Jake seethed. The sight of you now grinding against Austin’s very noticeable buldge was the fine straw! Causing him to leap out of his chair, rush over to the dance floor, throw you over his shoulder and walked out of the room with you kicking and screaming for him to put you down. Finally putting an end to your hideous plan all together. This most certainly hadn’t been how you had expected this to go but boy oh boy were you excited to see what happened next.

It wasn’t until Jake practically threw you onto a king sized bed and began yelling at you that you realised that this wasn’t going to end in sex. Or at least for the time being it wasn’t “Austin?? Of all fucking people you could have grinded up against you chose that bastard? What the fuck y/n?!” Jake spoke, anger clear in his tone as he fists clenched together in the dark room. “Do you really think that was the greatest of ideas huh? Embarrassing me infront of almost everyone? You really are a fucking bitch sometimes!” Oh how he wished he could turn back time and retract those words. Jake regretted those words as soon as they had left his mouth.

But unfortunately it was too late, he’d already hit a nerve inside of you that had been so desperate to appear this entire time! “You’re really asking me what the fuck all of that was about? Seriously Jake you don’t know? You don’t know that you’ve been ignoring me for the past 2 months for no fucking reason and doing god knows what?” Oh you were beyond finished at this point. “Embarrassing you? I embarrassed you? Really? That’s rich coming from the man who embarrassed me infront of our entire high school in the cafetière by practically telling me to shut up infront of everyone when I was actually going to invite you over for sex? You don’t need to know why I did what I did. But I deserve a ducking explanation as to why you’ve been neglecting me for two months and ignoring me any chance that you get! I’m the one that should be asking what the fuck! Have you fallen out of love with me Jake? Are you cheating on me? What is it? Why are you ignoring me whenever I try to talk to you? I’m your girlfriend don’t you think I deserve a explanation?” And with that the tears began to fall from your eyes. Oh no you’d released a damn. This definitely wasn’t going away anytime soon. Shit. Every single word that has been said was unfortunately true. Now all that was left to do was wait for Jakes reaction.

Every single one of your words were like tiny daggers sticking into his chest. But every tear that fell from your eyes was poison strong enough to kill him. How had he let this go on for so long? How had he not seen how disgusting he was being around you? How had he not realised he’d stopped treating you like his girlfriend and more like a slut? He really had destroyed the only perfect girl in his life and what for? Some stupid football game and some boring study sessions with his private tutor that his parents had provided? This wasn’t right! None of this was right. Oh god how could he fix this?

“Baby....I—“ the Raven haired boy began, swallowing thickly as he took large steps towards you. Once again scooping you into his arms. But this time once you were in his arms he laid back down with you. Ignoring your weak struggles to get out of his grin before you finally calmed down and relaxed into his touch. Still sniffling due to all of the tears that had been falling from your eyes.

For the rest of the party Jake made it his mission to give you bet might of your life. Ignoring his friends and instead focusing all of his attention onto you without a doubt trying to make it up to you. Of course every so often he’d whisper a apology in your ear or kiss you deeply in an attempt to mend his guilty conscience once and for all. But nothing seemed to help at all.

❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅

By the time you woke up at exactly 12:04pm the next day, you’d found yourself wrapped up in Jakes arms as he began placing gentle kisses against the back of your neck and shoulder. Something he’d been doing for the last several minutes. “Morning beautiful” he mumbled upon noticing you were awake. “Hmmmm...morning Jake..” you hummed back blissfully as you turned round in his arms. Happily staring him in his beautoful baby blue eyes before kissing him deeply just enjoying the moment.

After a very tired Make out session your eyes seemed to widen in horror as you looked down at your almost completely nude body, a little confused as to why you weren’t completely naked or even wearing Jakes shirt. That just didn’t seem right. “Did....I fall asleep on you?” The words in itself causing you to cringe. But you never did receive a actual answer. Instead you were answered with a loud laugh before your boyfriends lips were back on yours. Instantly getting on top of you to finish what you had started the night before.

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Take Me Home Now

Chapter Two: The Violence Causes Silence

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

"I never thought I'd see the mighty M-77 in the flesh, let alone hold one," the graveled voice silique over Mary's bedside, pointing the weapon harmlessly at the wall miming the clicking of the trigger with a soft pew. The corner of his wrinkled smile pulled tightly, white teeth freed in a short chortle.

"The damned thing almost killed me too!" The tenor of his voice booming across the room drawing momentary attention to himself.

Amber eyes returned to the woman that breathed gently beneath the single sheet covering her, "if only the shot were better. It's a shame to see a beautiful weapon mishandled."

The Commander's eyes shot open, "it's not a toy."

"A toy it is not," he countered softly in direct contrast to her gruffness, "it's a very serious weapon. Hard to get a hold of unless you have the right channels."

"Or the wrong ones."

"You've got me there," he murmured gently, "but I don't have you pegged for that type."

"What do you know about me?" The statement a test.

"Next to nothing, besides your bad aim."

The relaxed manner of his statement regulated the growl in her throat into a gentle rumble. The man at her bedside was a strange sort of familiar but annoyingly endearing. Probably the sole reason he wasn't knocked aside and that she was not halfway out the door. Well, if not for the half dozen other figures and said man possessing her weapon.  It would have been easier to continue her ruse, eyes fluttering closed at the thought.

The figure chuckled, "your acting is as terrible as your aim. If you think that can fool me."

He gave her the time to shuffle upright, allowing her the space needed to feel out her scalp. Fingertips gently touching the tender ring left inches about her right ear, pale lips turning into a nearly imperceptible frown. He resisted the urge to clap on comforting hand on her shoulder and to pull her in. While he would never ask a woman's age, he guessed her to be in the same group as his son. The same burden rested in her eyes as had his son's: one among many he mourned for. Among the many, each around him mourned for. The war well over, but not without a hearty cost. This strange camaraderie drew him to this stranger.

"Military brat?" The guess was easy enough; she held herself uptightly. Besides, only a trained soldier could walk out of that hideout with barely a scar.

"No, but enlisted at eighteen. Parents were colonists, the Alliance-"

The awkwardly heavy tube vibrated in her weak arms, adrenaline crashing as the reality of her situation caught up with the teenager. She was fucked. Not fun fucked, but her life was about to end fucked. It hadn't even moved the Batarian she had struck with all of her might. The ill-placed blow barely skittered against his pauldrons.

The alien turned slowly, a sick smirk crossing his strangely wrinkled skin.

The creature yanked the metal tube from her grasp, Mary by some miracle, was fast enough to avoid the arc of his wild swing. Her mother and father went down with a thud. Mary somehow undaunted rushed forward without thought; just inches from the alien, she was yanked backward, a knee cruelly pushing her into the tile floor of her kitchen. Unseen hands pulling her hair and head upwards.

"You'll remember this, human," the voice hummed, twirling the pipe around the elbowed end pointed at the ground. Nudging the groaning male at his feet.

The first motion was a blur of blood covering the kid's face, running and spraying into her screaming mouth. The splitting of the second skull started and ended in silence.

The intrusive memory required a shake of her head to stave off; she had not thought of that event in years.

"I joined the Marines, did a few tours. Ended up here for the final conflict," Mary gulped down, trying to finish off with a change of subject, "you?"

Whether or not he noticed her foray into another realm, he didn't act as if he had. "I had retired years ago, but with the Reapers coming to Earth, it was my duty to return to service."

There the conversation ended. A long minute of silence passing between the two parties.

"So, what encouraged you to take out a raider encampment alone," he pressed with misplaced joviality.

The Commander stumbled, balked, "I wasn't alone."

You're fucking pathetic.

Pain seared across her cheek, requiring her hand to assuage it.

"Oh," he winced behind the soft utterance, "you did something good, recruit. They were an absolute menace-" He stopped, sensing the words fell on an empty mind.

But he was determined not to let this conversation continue in such complete disarray, "I'm sorry for not introducing myself earlier; I'm Roy."

"Roy?"

"I hesitate to go by a formal chain of command, and I'm not entirely sure if," he paused, attempting to clear this without sounding like a power-mad dictator, "communication since the Reaper threat has been sparse at best. My men have, and I have been operating by the seat of our pants for months. We heard London was the final push, by little more than rumor mind you; upon arriving we had failed to connect with head brass before the threat had mysteriously been defeated. Obviously, order has yet to be restored."

"What's the status report?"

The old man gave her a slow grin, "Comms are down, and with so many grounded on Earth, supplies are hoarded. Some Alliance and Council Forces are trying to keep the peace, but that is problematic when food, shelter, and ammunition aren't exactly plentiful. Some are... preferring to act selfishly."

"I suppose it doesn't take much to stir up old grudges," she remarked wryly, "where does that leave you?"

"We're interested in peace, rebuilding. We won't survive if we squabble now, the Reapers may have well defeated us."

Shepard shook her head, "let's hope some of the others share your integrity."

Some legacy she left behind, bringing together most of the galaxy just to have it crumble moments after the greatest threat was over. They were meant to be the best the galaxy had to offer.

"Who are you?"

A failure if the first snappy comment in her mind was to be believed. She didn't want to be Shepard at this moment. Mary didn't feel up to the name, to the adorning praise she had received, the lofty and quite impossible accomplishments she had earned. Shepard had saved the galaxy, but she couldn't save a mother and child. She was the part that had killed 304,942 Batarians. The countless others caught in the crossfire and the ones that she had failed impress with the gravitas of the impending culling. Selfishly, the loss of her crew weighed heaviest; what were a few souls compared to a few hundred thousand others?

Shepard was too heavy of a name.

Shepard didn't deserve this pathetic fate.

Shepard should be dead.

"Jane."

"Jane?" the man mocked impetuously.

The joke was on him. Mary was hardly any less generic. Instead of a response, it earned the old man a slow eye roll. One practiced from years of reacting to the impressed way most reacted to her first name, with the legacy "Shepard" held a boring name wasn't expected.

With a sigh, 'Roy' propelled himself upright, first glancing over the men huddled in the far corner, then to the door. He stalked away without a word, leaving Jane in his wake. Weaponless and quite confused.

"Well, aren't you getting up? I have something to show you."

Catching her before her mouth could form the words, with a frown, she pushed from the cot. Throwing a tentative glance at the men as she picked a path around them. They seemed to pay her no mind but nodded at the older gentleman as he walked by. The group had a couple of guns between them, but they were left against the wall. Close but in no obvious state of threat.

"That worried about little old me?" she mused in the three quick steps to catch her guide.

"We did find you in a raider base," his grin drew across his wrinkled face slowly, "but it was the supplies I was worried about. We hold a tentative peace."

"Peace, with who?"

If Jane had waited another moment, the noise from beyond the balcony would have answered a now pointless question. She strode to the ledge, overlooking the huddled masses. The number was easily under fifty souls, comprised mostly of humans -omitting a few asari, one salarian, and two turians in the mix. They huddled in small groups in the large courtyard provided by the open-air mall.  A circular fountain, now placid, took up the center of the space, but only the Salarian lingered by the stagnant water running their hands over the clear surface of the water.

"How long ago were the Reapers destroyed?"

"A week."

"How long have I been here?"

"A day and some change."

Jane nodded, gripping the railing, "you're lucky this place wasn't destroyed."

"That's a word for it, damned lucky; the place has an atrium," he settled beside Jane, "beside our luck, we need to figure out how to feed everyone quickly."

"Although the Turians will still find a way to complain about their grub," she remarked cooly," then I brought a Quarian onboard, and I never heard the end of it."

Roy regarded her throughly, his curiosity was piqued, but he wouldn't push it. The woman had things she wanted to hide, and he would have to accept that for the time being. For now, he let her contemplate, allowing her the moment to hold something resembling a smile. Let the hardships of the situation come back slowly; neither of them needed the reminder of the losses they had endured. It would only get more difficult with time.

"Just don't leave out the east end. It makes this paradise just a little less idyllic."

Jane looked at him curiously but dropped it, "did you bring these people together?"

"As I said," he stated with a nod, pushing away from the balcony and beckoning her with a wave of his hands, "we arrived as what I could guess was the final push. There were a few wandering, dumbstruck. Others, like you, needing help."

He clipped down the frozen escalator, "I lost a lot of men getting to London. My unit of fifty quickly turned to fifteen, and we were lucky. Rather than join the intense fighting, we rounded up who we could. We've held out here since. It's becoming necessary to leave more often, but it's also getting more dangerous."

He rounded into the large chamber, with Jane on his heels.

"Lieutenant."

The sentiment echoed around the room, and the dulled faces brighten considerably. The other races with practiced coolness played at aloofness, though he had their rapt attention. The woman with him was a nobody, a newcomer, but he was important to each body in the room.

"LT?" Jane murmured, catching a moment of his ire.

A small figure streaked for the man, immediately whirled into the air with a fluidity she hadn't believed the man capable of. The girl squealed, clinging tightly to his thick neck. Her giddy laughter feeling out of place in the dower mood that stagnated around them. Jane looked away from the exchange, uncomfortable with the child. She wasn't exactly the kid sort... or one that should be left unsupervised with one.

Finally tired of being thrown about, the child put her hands on his cheeks, growing deathly serious, "I'm hungry, do you have food?"

Her parental figure admonished her from afar.

"Remember, we only eat when it is mealtime," he spoke gently to the mousy girl, setting her down promptly, "you'll grow too fast if you eat all the time. This old man can hardly lift you as is!"

"Fine," the child puffed, "only because I like playing with you."

The girl's eyes bored into Jane, giving the woman a cross look before returning to her disappointed Father.

"Why bring me here?"

Jane finally spat out, angry that she had been played. Angrier that it was working.

"I'm not above a little manipulation to get you to stay," his gaze remained on the girl, only slowly returning to the blue-eyed woman behind him.

"You can't know I won't fuck this up," she returned solemnly, "or be sure of who I am."

Roy's face hardened, "be practical. What will you do once your gun runs out of clips? You don't have armor. You don't have food."

Jane glared at him sharply, but was it being told no or being presented with logical advice that bothered her more?

"Go, if you like. I won't stop you," he shoved the gun into her hand, "I really won't. But neither can you come back."

"I-"

"Or you can try it out for a bit, get your bearing here. It's better than rotting or ending up with a bad crowd," he breathed out sharply," and don't start with that bullshit all over again. If you have that gun, you obviously know how to use it... and I could use, need, someone that can handle a gun. The rest can wait."

His change of tactics was noted, if she had tried to guess what sent his words reelings she would bet on regret. It was the first concrete sign of pain she had read from the man. It clouded his judgment of her, of whatever he thought she could do to help him. To help the community he was building. It was a noble pursuit; for that reason alone she had to take herself from it. Those around the Commander had the habit of getting killed.

"I'm not-"

"Cut that shit too, Recruit! What you've done previous to this point isn't important to me. Nobody gives a shit about your record- what you can do now matters. Being alive later for whoever claims your sorry ass is what matters."

[aoyama-division]

Jet Set Trio Drama Track 1 - Another Day, Another Dollar

Pt. 1

-- Chōten Residence --

*Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep*

[As the clock had struck exactly 12:35 P.M., the alarm in the bedroom clock on the nightstand went off, awakening the young socialite known as Tomi Chōten from his slumber. Hitting the alarm clock until it shut off, he groaned as he groggily sat up from his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Remembering his events from last night, he looked over his shoulder and saw that the other side of his king-sized mattress was empty, save a single note. Rolling his eyes, he picked it up and half-heartedly read it.]

???: Thanks for the great night, Tomi-san! Looking forward to seeing you again! 💋

Tomi: Tch.

[Crumpling the paper up, the socialite threw it in a random direction in his room, not caring where it landed. Groaning once more, he stood up, grabbing his large emerald green robe from the rack atop his bedroom door. Tying it firmly across his waist, he opened his bedroom door and walked into the corridor where a group of butlers and maids were busy going about their business. As he crossed their path, they all immediately stopped what they were doing, bowed their heads, and greeted one of the heads of the family.]

Maids: *In unison* Good afternoon, Master Tomi!

[The young socialite did not dine to respond to any of them as he proceeded to the end of the hall where the stairs were. Proceeding downward two stories to the first floor, he looked as his family's head butler, Akiharu Hino, was digitally dusting a large vase his father had brought during one of his many voyages overseas. Hearing someone descend downstairs, the old butler stopped what he was doing and turned towards the stairs. Upon seeing it was the young master of the family, he placed his left arm over his chest and bowed his head.]

Hino: Good afternoon, young master.

Tomi: *Groggily* Morning, Hino.

Hino: It's actually afternoon sir, but thank you for the greeting.

Tomi: *Rolls his eyes* Details, Hino. It is far too early.

Hino: If you say so, sir.

[Groaning, the young socialite turned and made his way to the living room.]

Hino: Your morning coffee and cigar are waiting for you on the second end table, sir.

[Tomi did reply, instead simply waving his hand in 'thanks' as he continued towards the large brown doors to the living room.]

Hino: Ah sir, before you enter, I feel that I have to warn you that...

[Before the seasoned butler could finish his warning, the young master pushed opened the doors to the family room. He was prepared to see no one present save the maids he may have been cleaning up here. But instead, what his eyes took in was something else entirely. He looked as standing a ways away from his family's large flat-screen television that was hanging atop one of the room's walls, was his friend and associate, Karada Kessaku, busy following some sort of aerobic exercise that was on TV. But what caught Tomi's attention was the fact that his friend was wearing nothing save a pair of tight green exercise briefs, showing off his entire muscled body.]

[Staring at the display for a couple of moments longer, the young socialite, having had enough of the display, looked around for the remote control. Finding it atop the large glass table in the middle of the room, he quickly grabbed it and hit the 'Power' button, turning the television off.]

Karada: Hey!

[Turning around upset, the bodybuilder stopped and looked as it was his friend, Tomi, who was responsible.]

Karada: Oh, hey Tomi. Bout time you woke up. Thought you were just going to sleep the day away again.

Tomi: *Barely containing his rage* Karada, what do you think you're doing?

Karada: Huh? *Looks down at himself* Oh. Well, I was doing my daily aerobic exercises until someone interu...

Tomi: No! I mean, *Waves his hand at Karada's wardrobe* What do you think you doing in my house, in my living room, half-naked?!

Karada: Huh? *Looks down at himself again* Oh. Well, this is how I always do my aerobics. It helps my body to breathe.

Tomi: But why in my house?!

Karada: *Shrugs* I don't know. What's the big deal? It's not like I'm hurting anyone.

Tomi: You're hurting my eyes! Just put some clothes on, for God's sake!

Karada: All right, all right. Sheesh. *Looks over at Hino, who was silently watching the entire display with nary a word nor a hint of emotion* Do you have my clothes anywhere?

Hino: Right here, Master Karada. *Seemingly out of nowhere, he pulls a fresh pair of clothes from behind his back* I took the liberty of having them washed and cleaned for you.

Karada: Wow, thanks dude! *He quickly throws his clothes on, which consists of his green muscle shirt and a pair of long blue gym shorts before looking back at Tomi* There. Happy?

[The young socialite didn't bother to reply instead of walking to a corner of the room where he had spotted a white teacup full of black liquid, which was coffee from the smell of it. Beside the glass was a large light brown cigar that was currently unlit, but was ready to be smoked. Sitting down on the large sofa in the room, Tomi picked up the glass, before taking a quick sip, sighing as the liquid made its way down his body, quickly rejuvenating him.]

Tomi: *Raises the cup in Hino's direction* Good as always, Hino-san. Well done.

Hino: *Bows with his left arm over his chest* My pleasure, sir.

Karada: *Frowning* I don't see how you people can drink that stuff.

Tomi: *Takes another sip, not bothering to look at him* Try it, you might like it.

Karada: Hard pass. Give me a protein shake any day of the week.

Tomi: *Rolls his eyes* Whatever. *Looks up at him, setting his teacup down* What are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be at the gym, 'pumping iron' or whatever it is you meatheads call it?

Karada: *Frowns again* Okay, one: I take offense to that. Meatheads are known for generally not being smart. And I like to think I have a good intellect as far as most people go.

Tomi: *Scoffs and speaks under his breath* Keep telling yourself that...

Karada: *Chooses to ignore whatever it was his friend just said* And secondly: if you must know, today was your mother's training day.

Tomi: *Frowning as he picks up his cigar* Again? What is that, the third time this week?

Karada: *Shrugs* Hey, do you have any idea how hard it is to squeeze people into my schedule? Your mom, no offense or anything, is just a few of the many women here in Aoyama who pay for my services.

Tomi: Aren't your services exclusive to only women anyway?

Karada: Well I sure as hell aren't selling them out to men if that's what you're wondering! *Flexes* These muscles are only for the women of Aoyama to partake in!

Tomi: Well you might want to be careful there, Mr. Muscles. *Smirks as he lights his cigar* If these women's spouses or significant others find out that it's a man giving their ladies 'private lessons', you might very well find a mob on your doorstep one day.

Karada: *Smirks* My clients and I have a very strict teacher/student confidentiality act in place. I disavow any knowledge of what goes on during our sessions.

Tomi: *Grins* Hmm, must be nice. *Takes a puff of his cigar*

Karada: *Smirks* Besides, are you really in any position to talk?

Tomi: *Looks up, confused* What are you talking about?

Karada: *Continues smirking* I'm talking about that girl who left early this morning.

Tomi: *Still looks confused, before realization hits his face* Ohh. Her. *Scoffs* Just a one-time thing, I assure you. Nothing more, nothing less.

Karada: You really should take my advice, and meet a real girl for once.

Tomi: And why pray tell, would I waste my time on that? *Takes another puff of his cigar* One-night stands get me all the fun of being in a relationship without the hassle of actually being in one.

Tomi: And F.Y.I., the women I sleep with are real.

Hino: Is that why I always see them leaving the house in the morning with a large bag of money, young master?

[Karada starts laughing out loud, while Tomi scowls at his butler.]

Tomi: You're supposed to be on my side here, Hino.

Hino: My apologies, Master Tomi.

Tomi: Whatever. *Takes another puff of his cigar before snubbing it out in an ashtray nearby* So Hino, what exactly is on the agenda for today?

Hino: Well... *Takes a note out of his shirt pocket, giving it a look over* ...You are free up 4:00 P.M. At that time, you are needed to relocate to the clothing store at the Aoyama Shopping Mall to get fitted for your attire for tonight's banquet at 7:00 P.M at the Aoyama Park Tower.

Tomi: *Groans* Great, another soirée to go to. *Sighs before standing up*

Karada: Hey, since you're free until four, how about we go get some grub over at Luis's place?

Tomi: Good idea. I've not eaten since I woke up.

Karada: Maybe you should try not sleeping past noon.

Tomi: *sarcastically* I'll give your advice serious consideration.

Hino: Shall I prepare the limousine, Young Master?

Tomi: Yes please, Hino. *Begins walking back upstairs* I'll be down in five minutes.

Karada: I'll time you!

Tomi: *Answers without looking back* You do that.

-- Thrilling Heart Restaurant, Aoyama District --

[After about a 10 min. ride, Tomi and Karada finally arrived at Luis's restaurant. Upon arrival, both men looked as there was a line leading out of the restaurant.]

Karada: Sheesh, Luis's place is as busy as ever. And it's only lunchtime.

Tomi: *Scoffs as he begins walking towards the restaurant, bypassing the line of people* I don't know why Luis has to have his restaurant open to everyone.

Karada: *Follows behind Tomi* To make more money?

Tomi: He'd make more if he only catered to a certain kind of people.

Karada: *Frowns* You mean, people like you?

Tomi: *Shrugs* Don't see why not.

[The duo continued passing the crowd, ignoring the looks and complaints they received. Upon entering the restaurant, Tomi looked at the server who immediately recognized who the two were and hastily bowed her head.]

Server: G-good day, Master Tomi and Karada!

Tomi: *Rolls eyes* Spare me the fake hospitality and just get us a table. Far away from the peons, please.

Server: Y-y-yes, o-of course!

[Obeying the young socialite, the server led him and Karada up onto the second floor of the restaurant, which was completely empty. She then lead them to a table close to the back with a sign on it that read 'Reserved for Special Patrons'. Pulling the seats out for both men, the nervous server then stood off to the side, pulling out a pen and notepad.]

Server: W-what would you like to drink?

Karada: I'll take a glass of ice-cold water, thanks.

Tomi: A glass of red wine.

Karada: *Frowns at Tomi* Dude, are you serious? It's like one in the freakin' afternoon!

Tomi: *Cocks an eyebrow at Karada* Your point?

Karada: *Sighs* Whatever. Do what you want.

Server: *Nervously writes the men's drinks on her notepad* A-and for your meals?

Karada: I'll take a couple of those greasy tacos that you guys were serving the other day. Those things were awesome!

Tomi: *Looking at the menu with a frown* Why is everything on this menu so damn hard to pronunciate?

Karada: Well, it is all Hispanic.

Tomi: *Sighs and tosses the menu on the table* Just give me whatever it is you guys called 'grilled goat' or something.

Server: Y-you mean our cabrito?

Tomi: *Looks at the server, annoyed* Do I look like I care what it's called? Just bring it here!

Server: Y-y-yes sir! My apologies! *Starts to run off to take the men's orders*

Tomi: *Holds up a finger* Hold it.

Server: *Stops mid-step, and looks back at the socialite, scared* Y-yes?

Tomi: When our food gets here, tell the owner/chef that we'd like to speak with him.

Server: Y-yes! I-I-I'll make sure t-t-to tell h-him.

Tomi: Good, then get going.

Server: Y-yes! *She then runs off to the first floor to the kitchen*

Karada: *Frowns at Tomi as the server disappears from view* Seriously, dude?

Tomi: *Looks at his friend with a bored look* What is it now?

Karada: What was that?

Tomi: *Looks at his friend, confused* What was what?

Karada: That! *Points to where the server was formerly standing* With the server! Why were you acting rude to her?

Tomi: *Sighs, while rolling his eyes* Karada-san, I don't know how many more times I have to explain this to you before you understand it. *Sits up, giving his friend his attention*

Tomi: We... *Points to himself and Karada* ...are a cultured people, my friend. We are special people. Why? Because we have something that those peons down there... *Points to the people still waiting in line* ...do not have. And you know what that is, correct?

Karada: Uhh...

Tomi: *Continues without waiting for him to answer* Class, my friend. Class. We are on an entirely different level from the peasants down there still waiting to get inside. The fact that we were able to get seated before them is proof enough.

Karada: Isn't that just cause we know the owner?

Tomi: *Sighs* Missing the point, entirely. The very thought that we have to treat, or, Heaven forbid, be treated the same as those peons down there, is not only wrong but also foolish.

Karada: *Frowns* Isn't that kinda arrogant?

Tomi: Arrogant? *Scoffs* This coming from the guy who earlier stated that his 'services' were exclusive to the women of Aoyama only?

Karada: *Opens his mouth to respond, but fails to* …Fine, you win this round.

Tomi: *Shrugs with a grin* Hey, those were your words.

Karada: Yeah, yeah.

[As the two men were talking, they looked as the previous server returned carrying two glasses of liquid: wine and water. Nodding to the gentlemen, she placed the glass of water in front of the bodybuilder.]

Karada: *Swiftly grabs it and drinks half of it, finishing with a satisfying 'ahh'* Thanks, yo!

[Nodding at the bodybuilder, she then placed the glass of wine in front of the socialite, who said nothing in response.]

Server: *Keeping her head down* Y-your meals will be ready in a bit.

Tomi: Did you remember to give the owner our message?

Server: Y-yes. He said he'll personally bring your meals to you.

Tomi: Thank you. You're dismissed. *Waves his hand at the server in a 'shooing' manner*

Server: Y-yes. Thank you.

Karada: *As the waitress leaves, he grins at his friend* You were a lot more polite that time around.

Tomi: I'm not trying to be polite or rude. I'm simply being me. *Takes a sip of his red wine*

Karada: You know you're going to regret drinking this early later on, right? Don't you have a party to go to tonight?

Tomi: *Shrugs* Yes. And your point?

Karada: Just saying. That alcohol's going to hamper you later on.

Tomi: The alcohol is the only reason I attend those parties in the first place. *Takes another sip*

[After a few minutes of waiting, the duo looked as walking up the stairs, carrying two plates of food, was the owner of the restaurant, its executive chef, and their friend, Luis Kōkyū.]

Luis: I have two special orders for a Mister Chōten and a Mister Kessaku?

Karada: Luis!! *Gets up and prepares to hug his friend, but looks as the chef slightly tips his plate of food over a bit*

Luis: Do you want to wait for your food to get made again?

Karada: *Looks in horror as the tacos on the plate begin to slowly slide downward* N-no.

Luis: Then do not touch me. *Lifts the plate back up again, before placing it on the table in front of the bodybuilder*

Karada: *His eyes light up like a little boy* Thank you!! *Begins to dig into his food*

[The executive chef rolls his eyes before placing Tomi's order in front of him, and sitting down in the empty seat at the table. He then takes a cigarette from his back pocket, along with a lighter, and lights it, inhaling the smoke before exhaling.]

Karada: *Frowns as smoke begins to fill the table* Ugh, come on dude, really? Do you have to do that while I'm eating?

Luis: *Looks at his friend, complaining* Look, I've been busy since I first opened up shop today. This is the first smoke I've had since I woke up, so spare me the agony, okay? *Takes another puff before blowing the smoke out into the air*

Karada: *Waves the cigarette smoke away* Whatever. Why is it so busy today anyways?

Luis: Today? It's always busy in here. You two just happened to come during the worst time: lunch hour.

Tomi: *Cutting up his grilled meat with a fork and knife before eating a piece* I was just telling Karada how you need to start selling to a certain kind of people.

Luis: *Looks at his friend with a skeptical look* And who would these certain types of people be, pray tell? People like you?

Tomi: *Shrugs as he holds onto his glass of red wine* I'm just saying. If you started only allowing upper-class people here, maybe your shop wouldn't be so busy.

Luis: *Grins* Yes, but then I wouldn't be making as much money as I am now.

Tomi: *Shrugs* Fair point. *Takes a sip of his wine, before looking at the glass, spinning the glass in his hand, watching the liquid swirl around*

Tomi: People seem to have this misconception that being rich is easy. But it truly isn't.

Luis: *Grins as he closes his eyes, his cigarette between his middle and index fingers* No, it really isn't.

Karada: *Shakes his head 'no'* Not at all.

[All three men look up at each other before a small grin appears on each of their faces.]

JST: It's great!!! *All three men laugh out loud at their inward joke as their lunch continues*

-- Prime Minister's Office, Chuohku Ward --

[Far from Aoyama division, in the Chuohku Ward, the building where the Party of Words made their home base was a steady flow of activity, as everyone in the building was going about their daily activities. At the very top of the building in the main office, behind a grandiose desk, sat the figure of Otome Tohoten, Japan's current Prime Minister and the leader of the Party of Words. By her side stood the figure of Ichijiku Kadenokoji, her trusted aide and Japan's Deputy Prime Minister.]

Otome: *Looking through various papers, her eyes scanning every word and image on each one she looks through* Hmm.

Ichijiku: *Senses something amiss with her leader* Is something wrong, Lady Otome?

Otome: *Doesn't answer at first, still sifting through the papers* Not exactly. *Looks at another paper, before placing it down on her desk*

Otome: We've sent out invitations to every known team or person in all of the Divisions for the upcoming Division Rap Battle tournament thus far.

Otome: *Picks up a paper detailing all the Divisions* Harajuku, Shinagawa, Saitama, Kyoto, Ueno, Ahikabara, and more. *Lays the paper back down on her desk* But it is still not enough.

Ichijiku: Would you like me to send my men out to scout for more teams?

Otome: No need. But... *She, again, picks up the paper detailing the divisions before realizing something* Has the spokesperson from Aoyama arrived yet?

Ichijiku: *Nods* Yes, I believe she arrived several hours ago.

Otome: Good. Have her sent to my office, at once.

Ichijiku: *Salutes* Yes ma'am!

[Putting her fingers to her ear, the Deputy Prime Minister began speaking to someone over a radio. Whilst she was doing that, Otome began swiftly writing something on a piece of paper. Within a couple of minutes, she finished before neatly folding it up and putting it in an envelope, sealed with the official seal of the Party of Words. As she finished, the door to her office slid open, revealing the figure of Okawa Chōten, Aoyama's spokesperson for Chuohku, dressed in the official Party of Words uniform.]

Okawa: *Bows her head in respect to Otome and Ichijiku* You summoned me, Prime Minister?

Otome: Yes. Come in and have a seat. We have much to talk about.

[Obeying, the middle-aged woman walked further into the Prime Minister's office as the door to the room slowly slid shut...]

To be continued...

[potteryclaylover]

Finches - Beautiful Bird

Finches are tiny birds, so it can be easy to overlook them. However, these little beauties are among the most popular and widely kept types of pet birds in the world, so it's safe to say that many prefer them to larger bird species such as parrots and parakeets. If you'd like to learn more about these little birds, then take a look at the information listed below. You might just learn something about finches that you didn't know before!

Finches are the perfect alternative for those wanting a feathered pet but not prepared to take on the challenges of caring for a parrot. Finches don’t talk and are hands-off birds, but they delight their owners with their aerial antics and social interactions with one another.

Finches Are Very Social Birds

All captive pet birds need some form of socialization to thrive in human homes, and for many species, that comes with forming a special bond with their human caretakers. Finches, however, prefer to do things a little bit differently. While there are exceptions to the rule, in general, finches largely prefer the company of other finches to that of a human companion. For this reason, it is normally recommended that they are kept in pairs or small flocks, as opposed to being kept singly. Birds who are kept alone with no means of companionship often become unhealthy and mentally and emotionally unstable.

Finches Generally Don't Like to Be Handled

Unlike parrots, who should be handled every day, finches tend to not do very well with human handling. While there are always exceptions, it is generally recommended that those who keep finches touch them as little as possible, to avoid frightening the birds and causing them stress. While it is common for finches to become accustomed to observing their human housemates from a distance, most of them never quite get comfortable enough to perch on a person's finger or be willingly handled in any way. For your finch's health, keep handling limited to what is necessary for the bird's health and medical care.

Finches Are Among the Smallest Commonly Kept Pet Bird Specie

While there are many different types of small birds that are commonly kept as pets, finches are among the smallest of them all! Most finch species are less than 4 inches in length from the beak to the end of the tailfeathers and may weigh less than 1 ounce. Many would think that this should make them the perfect bird for small, cozy homes, but in actuality, a small flock of finches may require an even bigger cage than some types of parrots. This is because finches must be able to fly, so they need a spacious enclosure or flight cage that can allow them to soar and exercise their wings.

Finches Are Very Quiet

While finches vocalize as much or more as other types of commonly kept pet birds, they have tiny voices that do not carry as far as those of larger birds, such as parrots. For this reason, finches are a great choice for bird lovers who live in apartments or condominiums. The pleasant chips of a small finch flock can often not be heard outside of the room that the birds are housed in, but many who own finches claim that their soft vocalizations are quite soothing, and choose to spend as much time in the same room with their birds as possible.

Native Region / Natural Habitat

The estrildid finches, such as the zebra finch, Gouldian finch, owl finch and society finch, are native to Australasia.

Care & Feeding

Finches need spacious housing, especially since they spend most, if not all, of their time inside their enclosure. These birds should remain fully flighted instead of having trimmed wing feathers. A horizontal cage is a must (as opposed to a vertical cage). Finches are flock animals and thrive when housed with other finches (do not house a finch with a parrot because a parrot can injure a finch). If you house pairs of finches together, be prepared for possible offspring, especially if the finches are provided a nest (small wicker-basket) and nesting material.

A finch will thrive on a pelleted base diet, such as Lafeber’s Premium Daily Diet specifically designed for finches, supplemented with fresh greens and other vegetables, grubs, eggfood and some seed.

Personality & Behavior

Finches are popular as companion pets because of their pleasant sounds and social interactions with their flock mates, and, in the case of the Gouldian finch, their dazzling coloration. They are mostly hands-off pet birds; instead preferring to be with other of their kind.

Speech & Sound

Finches are not capable of emitting the ear-splitting screeches of parrots and therefore might make a good choice for those with close neighbors. Their vocalizations are mostly “peep” and “meep” sounds, typically by the males. Their calls/songs can be persistent at times and finches spend a large portion of their day vocally communicating with one another.

Health & Common Conditions

Finches can be prone to air-sac mite infection, especially when overly stressed. This is a serious medical condition that warrants immediately veterinary care. Finches can also be susceptible to scaly face (a condition caused by a mite that presents as white, scaly areas around the beak/eyes, as well as the legs), which also warrants a call to the vet. Finches can also have overgrown nails or beaks, which should be addressed by an experienced bird groomer or vet.

[starkergames]

Title: New Years Artists: @lilsoshie (Sketch), @iammagicfishhook (Lineart), @marveling-marvelous (Color) Writer: @darker-soft-starker The years will change and people will change as much as they stay the same. Some changes though, Tony finds, he really doesn’t mind.

Fic below the cut

Some things never change.

Like, being riddled with nerves whilst attending big events. 

Or, the little ticks he’s adopted to mitigate the uneasiness, like bouncing his leg up and down, firing off questions to anyone in earshot like, do you think they’ll have sushi at this thing, I have a craving. 

Or Pepper singing along to whatever is playing on the car ride over, and Morgan answering his inane questions with things like, ew, sushi.

Some things do change, though.

Like, coming back to life after five years of being dead. 

Or being delegated to the backseat next to his daughter, despite the honourable resurrection. Or having his wife remarry in the years following his death. 

You know, typical resurrection things, like realizing that the entire world and everyone you knew has changed. 

Tony’s got a thing about control. Always has. He likes to know, has to know, all of the variables. He thought he knew all of them before he snapped his fingers and prayed to the stones in his gauntlet.

Here’s the thing about infinity stones: they’re sentient. They like balance.

They’re also assholes with a perverted sense of symmetry.

Somehow, perfect balance and perfect symmetry translated into bringing Tony back to life after five years. Or, being suspended in the ether that was neither life, nor death, the holding cell between worlds. 

That was the airy-fairy, hand-wavey way that Strange explained to him. Sparkles and mystery. But Tony doesn’t remember any of it. The not being alive. One moment his heart was giving out, the next he was clawing himself out of the earth. 

That was pleasant.

Emerging dirty and naked to find he’d missed five years of his life was also a barrel of laughs. Missing five years of his daughters growth, finding out his wife had moved on? Hilarious. Best cosmic joke to have happened to him yet.

Though, Tony supposes this is how the recovered Snap victims felt, after. Chasing and chasing the years that were missed, feeling as if they will never be completely caught up.

But that was months ago, his resurrection. Reawakening. Whatever. Seven months and three and a half weeks, if he’s counting. He’d say he isn’t, but he definitely is. 

He’d used the time mostly caught up on the life of his friends and family, shed his tears. He’s lamented Steve, grieved over Natasha all over again. Wondered why the divine equilibrium didn’t include her sacrifice. 

But he’s learned to be okay. He’s living back at the re-built compound with Clint and Wanda and the old-new crowd of super-people that populate the place he used to call home. 

He doesn’t don the suit, hasn’t since he came back, worried that the moment he activates the housing unit that it will all be over, and Morgan will lose her father for the second time. 

He’s a consultant, now, for the new team. Financier. Benefactor. It’s very boring.

“You sure you want to go to this thing,” Tony says again, stretching his legs so his knees hit the driver's seat in front of him, where Peppers’ new husband sits. “You don’t want a quiet one at home? Ring in New Years with the llamas?”

“Morgan wants to go,” Pepper repeats, peering back to smile at her daughter. “Right, sweetpea?”

Beside Tony, Morgan looks up from her hand-held video game and nods vehemently, smiling brightly. Tony feels betrayed by her enthusiasm.

“Are they paying you to say that?” he leans in, whispering close to her ear. “You can tell me Morgasboard, name your price. I’ll beat it.”

His daughter flicks her gaze between her mother and Tony. She leans into her father and whispers loud enough for the entire car to hear, “Uncle Peter is going to be there. I haven’t seen him in forever.”

Tony sighs exaggeratedly, nodding along, even though he knows she saw him two weeks ago. 

“Forever is a long time,” he agrees. 

That was another change that Tony feels weird and wonderful about. 

Somehow, in the time that he was six-feet-under, his former protege had become something akin to family to his daughter. Which, if he’s honest, in the years after the Snap, was the goal, the dream as he skipped through time with the Avengers, the proverbial what if that drove him to say yes that one, final time. 

Happy families, he’d thought. What else could two wayward orphans hope for?

Tony’s at least glad that Peter got that part of the deal. That Morgan got Peter. 

Even if Tony didn’t really have either, after.

“Uncle Peter could go back to the compound or the penthouse with us,” Tony offers, nudging his daughter. “You could ask DUM-E to be your new years kiss.”

“You have a speech scheduled, right, babe?” Peppers husband, Greg, cuts in. He was hired as CFO of SI three years ago and it was heart eyes at first sight, Tony is told. He watches as Greg frees one of his grubby hands from the steering wheel to reach across the console and squeeze her knee.

“Sure do,” Pepper smiles, snaking her hand down to clutch his, squeezing their fingers together. 

Tony’s not jealous. No, really. He’s adjusted, he’s over it. 

But he’s still Tony Stark, so he’s unapologetically petulant. And it’s Pepper, what kind of ex would he be if he didn’t properly field the prospects of the one woman he truly loved?

Feigning a stretch, he kicks his feet out again and jolts the driver's seat, delight welling up when Greg huffs irritatedly. Morgan giggles as if it’s some kind of game, and all the adults pretend that it is to please her. 

The unimpressed stare from his ex-wife caught through the rear-view mirror does little to dampen his satisfaction.

It’s the little wins, Tony thinks, as they pull up to the building, paparazzi huddling around the rope barriers that flank the red carpet, flashes firing through the tinted windows as they come to a stop.

Just because some things change, doesn’t mean he has to.

It’s that mentality that gets him through the dreaded, interminable walk from the car to the ballroom entrance. This is old hat, he tells himself as he waves to the crowd. You could do this with your eyes closed. God, he used to be so good at pretending to care about this kind of crap.

Reporters brandish their network-issued microphones at him, at his family. Fans shoulder against security, all of them yelling out in a cacophony of noise he might call white were it not the sound of his own name, in all of its iterations. 

Although he’d rather make a beeline straight to the ballroom he stops and greets a few fans, shakes a few hands, high-fives a few kids. After a slew of signings and selfies the comparatively calm interior of the ballroom is blissfully welcomed. The quartet supplying tunes in the far corner is a reprieve. 

So is the way that Pepper clutches Greg’s hand and leads him away at the same time Morgan clutches Tony’s. She looks back and says, be good. Tony doesn’t know if she’s directing it to him or their daughter.

Socialites swan around them, but Tony just looks down at his daughter and smiles. He squeezes her tiny fingers.

“You wanna dance, Morgarita?”

Her serious expression turns gleeful as she drags him to the centre of the room to dance without a shred of shyness. 

She’s a lot like she was before he died. Smart and mischievous, cute as a button. But she’s markedly different, caught in that pre-teen phase where she’s gaining modicums of independence. Tony’s getting used to not needing to make all her meals or do her hair for her. He kinda misses it.

Little things. It’s always the little things.

She’s taller now, too. That was a change, to have his daughters head rest against his chest when she hugs him. She’s too tall to be picked up, too proud when Tony offers. So she wraps her arms around his midsection and they sway together on the dancefloor. 

Only a few couples are dancing. The night is still young. But, like anything in high society, it’s all smoke and mirrors. 

Which means most guests are mingling, telling each other how beautiful and fabulous they are, filling the room with so much re-circulated pomp and hot air the room is practically a hotbox.

Of course it’s a business event as much as it is a philanthropic one, so not even Tony can avoid the inevitable schmoozing that comes along with it. When Morgans tired feet demand a break they seek out seats and snacks - and they too, are sought out.

To his ire, associates come and go like a conveyor belt to shake his hand, politicians and socialites thank him for reversing the Snap, the Blip, the Click, the Dusting, all of the stupid names and his daughter is sitting right there, growing more and more morose at each mention of the worst thing that ever happened to her.

So Tony looks down at his daughter, mid conversation with a senator and says, “Hey, sweet child of mine, wanna go to the dessert table?”

She perks up at that and is off like a rocket to the other side of the room where swathes of mouth-watering sweets are spread over an eighteen foot table. 

Tony follows her beeline without saying goodbye to the senator, mentally rubbing his hands together at the grub. He’s sure he will pay for directing his daughter to a trove of sugar and hyperactivity. But desperate times. 

Who is he kidding. He’s going to need all the sweet stimulation he can possibly consume to get through this shit-show himself. 

When he catches up Morgan already has chocolate smeared on her lips. Fancy desserts perch daintily upon gold lined plates, on tiered stands. Thin streams of velvety, liquid chocolate trickle out of apex fountains, flakes of edible gold cover the setting.

She points excitedly with messy fingers to the ones she wants Tony to try. He should resist, right? He’s really isn’t supposed to eat dairy. That, along with his faulty levels of serotonin, was something the all powerful stones failed to fix. Which was really just plain lazy, if you ask him. 

But he spies a flamboyant looking fruit-pastry and thinks, fuck it.

Then he sees a yellow-treat that makes his mouth water and thinks, I can work it off tomorrow.

He reaches over and crams an entire portugese egg tart in his mouth, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk. Morgan laughs, tipping her neck back in unbridled delight.

“Do it again!” she says, bouncing on her feet.

He does. And then again, and again.

Which is how Peter Parker finds him no more than ten minutes later.

“Mr. Stark!”

Tony nearly chokes in his haste to chew and swallow the pastry when Peter swans into view, dressed to the nines and grinning a mile wide. He hears Morgan gasp delightedly beside him, running off to catch up with the younger man while Tony tries not to quietly asphyxiate.

Swallowing roughly, Tony gives him a thumbs up.

Several feet away, Morgan throws her gangly arms around Peter. She buries her head into his chest, just like she does with Tony, brown hair cascading over her shoulders as she embraces him tightly. Peter settles his arms around her neck and leans down to kiss the crown of her head, whispering something to hear that Tony can’t hear.

There’s a weird pang somewhere behind his ribs at the sight. 

He swipes his half-empty flute of champagne and downs the remainder in one gulp to cover it. 

“Mr. Parker,” Tony greets, rocking on his feet when his daughter and former protege walk back to him hand-in-hand. “Didn’t know you owned a suit in your size.”

The younger man holds his free arm out, twisting it to test the fit. It’s a grey suit with a maroon dress-shirt, tailored to perfection. It looks new.

Peter smiles. The action has creases forming at the corners of his eyes; a small, subtle nod to the years Tony missed. Gone is all of his baby fat, his face angular and defined. He holds himself with more self-assuredness, even now. 

He wouldn’t say it aloud, but Peter grew up handsome. 

Worse, he grew up to be Tony’s type.

“Oh, this? I didn’t pick it - but it’s nice, right?”

“Yeah. You, uh,” Tony swallows roughly, eyeing the man from head to toe. “You look good. You clean up well, kid.”

Peter rubs the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly at the compliment. 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark. You - you too. You look... good. Really good.”

Peter meets his gaze, his cheeks a furious shade of pink. 

The motion of the room slows as he watches the sparkle reach Peter’s eyes. Everything in his peripherals becomes dull, unfocused. His own heartbeat jackrabbits against his chest and his sure his face is doing something without his permission. 

Tony’s throat clicks when he swallows. 

“Yeah?��

“Yeah,” Peter nods, stepping closer. 

Now, Tony thinks, staring at Peter’s face, the earnest smile still tugging at his lips. Now is the time he would say something to curdle the mood. 

Peter being a full-fledged, rent-paying adult adult is new. Being on an even footing with Tony as a person and a professional is new. There’s so much new about him that Tony still has to learn.

There’s plenty that has stayed the same. His soft-spoken, courteous nature, his ethics.

But Tony can read the unfamiliar in Peter’s posture as much as he does the carefully curated vocabulary, how he stops himself from stammering into subjects he might have stepped into, before. The barely-there lines of age around his eyes, the confident squaring of his shoulders. 

And how Tony finds that his imperfect teeth compliment the ever-wayward hairs of his eyebrows - and how all of it, all of Peter, is now somehow charming, rather than awkward.

“How have you been, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, stuffing his hands into his pockets and shuffling forward

“Good,” Tony says, lips stretching onto the first genuine smile of the night. He’d try to tug those corners down, were it not for the infectious way Peter’s mouth does the same. “You?”

“Good, yeah. Super busy.”

“That’s good. Good to keep busy, as they say.”

“Yeah,” Peter nods. “It is good. Keeping busy. And how are you? -- Wait, shit, sorry, I already asked that.”

“This one keeps me going,” Tony tugs on a lock of Morgan's hair, taking mercy on him. “You been too busy to see the news about Spider-Man? I know you’re a fan.” 

Peter steps closer again, clasping his hands behind his back, smiling coyly as those around them perk up in interest.

“Which news?”

“Taking down Kingpins empire. Fisk behind bars.” 

“Oh, I think I heard something about that.”

Tony nods.

“What a guy. New York’s never looked cleaner. Although, take that from a guy who hasn’t seen the city for five years.”

“That’s some high praise,” Peter says, wringing his hands together as he nears. 

“He’s a hero,” Tony looks to his daughter. With an affirmative nod of dark hair she concurs.

“I think he’s just a regular guy,” Peter huffs, snorting when Morgan giggles knowingly.

Before Tony can inch closer, maybe to do something impulsive like what his hands have been itching to do and grip the lapels of Peter’s suit jacket, the moment is broken by a nearby cry.

“Peter! There you are!”

Sweat beading along his receding hairline, a heavy arm slung over Peter’s shoulders, Otto Octavius swims into view, nodding politely at Tony and Morgan.

“You’re a slippery one, Parker,” he says, shaking Peter’s shoulders. “Been looking for you.”

“Otto, this is --”

“ -- Got some guys that want to meet you,” Octavius interrupts, thick fingers squeezing Peters bicep. He leans in and and whispers in a way Tony is sure is meant to be discreet, “They’re keen to meet the brains behind the project; come say hi.”

Another change Tony never counted on was the trajectory Peter’s life took after his passing. 

Peter never went to MIT like Tony had dreamed for him. He went to Empire State University.

Pepper informed Tony that she in fact had reached out prior to his graduation and offered him a position. But Peter had declined. He hadn’t said why, but he’d chosen to work under Otto Octavius at Octavius Industries instead. 

One thing that Tony learned in his short time back in the land of the living was that Otto was infamously proud of his new employee and favoured immensely. 

It’s what Tony would have wanted for Peter, really. Doing what he loves, being given the respect his intellect and kind heart deserves. He seems to be happy and all grown up. As if Tony needs the reminder.

It’s just that Otto was always an insufferable do-gooder. Save the trees, save the bees. ALl noble notions that Tony agrees with - but Otto is like the human personification of a PETA ad. He’d never been a fan of Tony’s, even after he reformed, literally. 

Still, do-gooder or not. There’s something about him. Something that Tony doesn’t like. Just a vibe he has. He’s got good instincts after all of these years and he knows he’s got a solid hunch. There’s something about that man, he knows it.

It’s got nothing to do with the proprietary hand Otto has on Peters shoulder, like the younger man is just a thing to show off. Or how Tony wanted to be the one doing that.

It’s got nothing to do with the way Peter’s suit perfectly fits his frame, or how the maroon and grey compliments his clear, milky skin.

It’s definitely not related to the way Tony’s heart beats just a little bit faster when Peter is in the room.

Yeah.

“Um, I’ll just be a minute,” Peter smiles apologetically at the Starks, eyes softening at Morgans pout. “I won’t be long, you owe me a dance little miss, remember?”

Tony waves dismissively at him, reaching for another flute of champagne from a passing waiters tray. He swallows another generous mouthful, bubbles burning on their way down. 

With Morgan munching on a gold flaked cheesecake at his side, Tony watches as the young hero is led away. Otto’s hand on his back, guiding him to make nice with some university hacks. Five years ago Peter would have fumbled through these introductions. He would have gone bright red and blurted some weird factoid to make conversation. 

But he’s polished now, Tony watches. Not perfect, but his posture says confident adult, not awkward teenager, like the last time he wore a suit around Tony. This suit really does fit him like a glove. His handshake looks strong, too. Firm.

Were Peter’s hands always that big? 

Tony sips his champagne, observing the girth of his former mentee’s fingers. It’s not until he feels the burn of Morgans stare on the side of his face that he breaks his gaze.

“What,” he says.

She points a chocolate covered finger at his face. 

“You know how I feel about people holding up one finger at me. If you’re gonna do it, it should be the middle one.”

“You like him.”

Tony huffs, rolling his eyes. “Of course I like him. He’s your Uncle Pete.”

“No, dad, you like like him. You want to be his boyfriend.”

“What -- I do not,” Tony says, casting her an incredulous stare.

“You do. You want to marry him,” she says, scrunching up her face and making kissy noises. 

“Do not.” 

“Do too.”

“I --” he huffs, gesturing to the room at large as his words run away from him. “Do not. I’m the adult. You’re the child. I’m right, you’re wrong. Case closed.”

“Dad.”

“Fine, here,” he fishes out his wallet from his back pocket and slips a crumpled fifty out. He waves it in her face. “Take this and never speak about it again.”

“Can I speak about it to mom?”

He slips out another fifty and hands it to her.

“No.”

She smiles, neatly folding the notes and tucking it into her little bag. Tony stuffs another tart down his throat, knowing he’s been played.

She really is his kid.

----

It’s not that Tony doesn’t know.

He knows.

It’s familiar after decades of experience. That weird feeling he gets. The fluttering of his heart, the topsy-turvy motion in his stomach, were he any younger he might call them butterflies.

He just doesn’t get it.

There’s a lot of things that were jarring when he awoke, soil under his fingernails as he tore through the earth in the desperate search for oxygen. He remembers waking up, confused and naked, body restored to the moment before he snapped his fingers. He remembers stumbling onto a rebuilt compound, unable to speak, learning that the entire world had moved on and changed without him.

With FRIDAY as his guide Tony had seen all of the monuments and the altars in his name, fresh bouquets propped against them, even years after his death. The adoration and the glorification immortalised in murals and statues, in grants in his name, in tell-all books. 

They’d even made a shitty movie about his life. 

The actor who played him was too short and the woman who played Pepper wore a wig. It was funny. Not like, funny haha, but funny in that uncanny, meta photo-within-a-photo kind of way.   

But when Peter had come to the compound that first time and they talked after they both finished crying -- it was different. And every time after, it was different. 

It was… awkward. At first, they didn’t know how to be around each other, automatically falling into old molds of mentor and protege. It was almost immediately clear that their old roles weren’t going to work -- too much between them had altered to fit back into the old model. 

They needed to recalibrate, and quickly.

Their dynamic did change. If Tony thought about it long enough, innocently enough, he might dare to call it a friendship.

He would, but there was that feeling in his chest. Beat, beat, bang.

It was a work in progress, to reconcile the flutter in his stomach with the Peter now, with the Peter that was, before. A man who had lost all his baby fat, who was old enough to have colourful stories and a wealth of life experience, who had remarkably broad shoulders looked damn good holding a wrench.

It was the hands. 

They looked very dexterous. Capable.

But that didn’t stop him from spiraling into deep, existential pockets of despair as he wondered if the stones really thought it was best to revive him so he could actively thirst over someone he used to be responsible for. 

Peter is barely fifteen years older than his daughter. He’s lost count how many real and missing years are between them now between death and the Snap. Five a piece.

He can’t tell his road-runner heart if that’s better or worse, though. 

But, too high on the adrenaline of seeing Peter, he forgets to tell his body to stop, to remind his stupid heart that this one is not available. 

----

Sometime after eleven the gala is in full swing. The mood perks right up in anticipation of the New Year.  

Most of the remaining guests are pleasantly tipsy by this point, if not outright drunk. All of the stirring speeches have been made, Peppers included. 

Tony tried to listen, however got distracted by - well, anything. But the effort was there. Something about giving and starting the year fresh, clean slates. 

The relaxed atmosphere has more couples dancing on the floor. The Mayor and his wife stumble over each other, moguls and A-Listers mingle and take selfies against attractive backdrops. 

Even Morgan grew tired of Tony’s ornery approach to the evening, departing with a kiss to his cheek to dance with her mother.

Tony forgets, sometimes. That people expect something of him, something more. Like his resurrection was divine intervention, and if the universe intended him to be here, surely it was for a purpose higher than acting like a morose old man, hiding in the corners of ballrooms.

It’s just. He doesn’t know where his place is anymore.

Norman Osborne stops by to crow about his latest achievements, his contract with the NYPD to provide surveillance towers all over the city. Tony’s seen them. They’re hard to miss.

“Design’s a little archaic, don’t you think? Not very discreet. A pettier man would say you were overcompensating for something.”

He’s not really paying attention as he’s speaking, too distracted by the debacle before him. 

Harry Osborn and Peter dance together in the centre of the room, leaned in close to one another and snickering at what the other has said. 

They look loose and comfortable around one another, as if they were old friends. Or something else.

Peter leans in close to Harry’s ear to whisper something, the flush on his face creeping down his neck. In one swift movement Tony throws back the rest of his champagne, wishing the liquid would drown him, stomach turning to cement.

Whatever Norman says in response goes unheard. 

With the crowd dispersed, Peter catches Tony’s eye and waves exuberantly, nearly hitting Harry in the face.

Tony raises his glass, wincing. 

At least some things stay the same.

“They roomed together at ESU,” Norman breaks Tony out of his musings.

Clearing his throat, Tony tries his best to appear indifferent. Why should he care? That’s right, he doesn’t. Not even remotely.

“I see.” Play it cool, he thinks. “They look close, are they —?”

Nailed it.

“No. They tried, but it didn’t work out. Harry’s engaged now.”

“Huh.”

“But Peter is always welcome in our home,” Norman drawls. “He’s like a second son, really. Wasn’t he your protege once?”

Osborn is so smarmy. All at once Tony remembers why he hates this man and his dumb, weathered face. His covetous tone makes Tony want to hurl, or send a suit to the nearest Oscorp building and play rain of fire.

“Good god, imagine if he was your son,” Tony says blithely. “As if you need another one of those to mess up.”

Norman huffs.

“You’re hardly the authority on raising well adjusted children, Stark.”

Ire spears up hot to his throat, but before Tony can deliver a withering reply, he’s interrupted by the arrival of Pepper and Greg. 

Morgan trails behind, dragging a laughing Peter with her by hand. She weaves her thin body through the crowd, having pulled the man away from his dance wearing identical grins.

He watches his daughter cut through swathes of the elite in a trail of chiffon, delight clear in the laughter that follows her. Tiny heels clack against the polished ballroom floor, and Peter indulges her mischief, catching Tony’s eye and winking as they near him.

It’s the first time he’s seen his whole family look truly carefree since he came back. 

And Tony is where he should be. An inscrutable mass against the beige, peeling wallpaper. 

The look of distaste on Normans face as he walks away is enough to dampen some of his churlishness as his family form before him. Pepper makes small talk with Peter and Greg smiles awkwardly at a passing senator. Morgan dives for a profiterole before anyone can stop her. 

For a moment Tony feels like he’s in a McDonalds playground instead of an upper-class charity event.

Pepper must have had a hand in choosing Morgans dress, Tony thinks, because it has pockets. And, watching her as the adults talk, she sneaks handfuls of tarts and truffles into the grooves of her dress. Tony wants to laugh, to wink at her conspiratorially at the same time he wants to tuck her into bed, new years or not. 

Morgan beckons Peter closer to the sweets table. The younger of the two piling her favourite sampled sweets onto a napkin and thrusts them towards Peter, fervently requesting that he try them, they’re so good, Uncle Peter. 

“Not everyone wants dessert for dinner, little miss,” Tony reminds her, swiping a napkin off the table and wiping the melted chocolate off the corner of her mouth.

“I’m not a baby, dad,” she complains, taking the napkin from him.

He forgets that too, sometimes.

Peter smiles between them, delicately plucking a single strawberry off one of the offered miniature flans and popping it into his mouth. 

Lust spears through him so suddenly Tony sways on his feet. Fuck. 

His daughter and ex-wife are right there. 

“Mr. Stark. Would you - uh,” Peter breaks off to swallow audibly. “Would you like to dance?”

Otto is by the bar. Harry, by the French Ambassador. Tony is in his self-made corner of the room, nibbling on vol-au-vents and sashimi to pass the time. 

He can smell Peter’s cologne and his sweat when he steps closer and sheepishly offers his hand and Tony’s entire damn body wants to just reach out and interlock their fingers, to pull Peter close and breathe him in. Never has Tony wanted to bury himself in another body before and not come back out, not like this.

Tony would consume all of what Peter had to give, if Peter let him. The offering look in Peter’s eyes say that he would let him.

“I… uh,” Tony begins, searching for a quip to cover his falter. Smiling at his companions, Tony smooths his hand down his tie, pretending the curious looks of concern are just the alcohol. “I need fresh air.”

“Tony --”

“Mr. Stark --”

He waves them off and smiles apologetically at Peter.

“-- I’ll just be a sec. Is it hot in here? Is anyone else hot? I’m like, sweating here, wow. It’s just pooling under the armpits. I’ll just be a minute, excuse me --”

The crowd parts for him like the red sea as he marches through it in search of the nearest door. But he’s never felt less powerful in his entire life.

Or lives, as it were.

----

Outside, the air is blissfully fresh and cold. The rooftop is far less crowded than indoors, only a few patrons lean against the railing, cigarette smoke curling up from their fingers, some in quiet conversation with another.

There’s a carefully constructed pyramid of wide, vintage wine glasses brimming with champagne. He’s careful not to topple the entire thing over when he goes to reach for one. Overheated, even as the winter wind nips at him, he takes his drink and finds a quiet corner to sulk in.

Perching upon a stone bench away far away from the others, Tony tips his head up at the starless sky and huffs. 

What the hell does he think he’s doing?

The New York City skyline is alight before him in all its glory, but the memory of how Peter’s face dropped flashes across Tony’s mind on a loop. He looked taken aback. Hurt even. 

Shame wells up low in Tony’s stomach and doggedly stays there. 

It’s for the best. Right? It has to be for the best. Peter deserves the best and Tony is not that.

It’s not right for him to want to fit himself into Peter’s life when he seems to be happy and successful without Tony - there’s one thing he knows unequivocally about himself is that he would ruin that. Ruin Peter, one of the few good things he has left.

His heart doesn’t get the memo. 

Because when he closes his eyes, all he imagines is the way Peter’s firm body would feel against his. What it would feel like to curl together on the sofa, in bed, under the sheets. How his curls would tickle the underside of Tony’s chin, and what it would be like to trace the lines that branch from his eyes when he smiles, or to stroke the narrow slope of his nose as he sleeps. 

It’s wrong.

It’s wrong because Tony doesn’t fit there. Not there, nor in all of the places he used to. He’s not Iron Man or a businessman. He’s not a husband or a full-time father. He’s not even Peter Parker's mentor. 

What he is, for all of his resurrected glory, is an afterthought. A spectre, hovering in the fringes of all of the places he used to be the centre of.

He smiles, raising his glass to the smoking couple as they nod politely at him.

It’s fine. He’s happy that everyone is happy.

But it’s been months. He ain't Jesus, but surely by now he’d find some sense of purpose.

“Mr. Stark?”

When Tony opens his eyes Peter stands before him, clutching a perspiring glass of wine.

Tony doesn’t want to notice, but he does anyway. The look of concern written on his face is unmistakable, even in the dim lighting of the rooftop, the nearby flamelight serves to deepen the frown lines on his young face.

“Are you alright, Mr. Stark? Sorry to follow you out here, you just seem kind of...”

“Surly?” Tony guess. “I’m fine, kid. Just had a few too many. Didn’t want to hurl all over the drapes. No need to worry.”

“I was gonna say overwhelmed, but yeah,” Peter says, shifting closer until Tony’s bent knees hit the top of Peter’s thighs - his stomach swoops, again. “I’m gonna worry anyway.”

“Yeah, well, happy New Year,” Tony says dryly, knocking their glasses together. 

Peter taps his smart-watch with a finger. 

“Still got five minutes before that. Can’t break into Auld Lang Syne yet, Mr. Stark.”

“We could if we were in Halifax,” Tony counters. The younger man tilts his head agreeably and Tony calls the easing of tension from Peter’s shoulders a win.

“Let’s stick to New York.”

“Sure,” he agrees. “You don’t have somewhere you’d rather be? You got four-something minutes.”

“Right here, actually, if that’s okay with you.”

Tony doesn’t know if that’s frankness or fiction, but he smiles all the same, patting the slab of stone he’s sat upon invitingly. 

“Well, come aboard, Mr. Parker.”

Without pause, Peter hoists himself on the bench with a single hand, delicately balancing the glass of champagne with the other. He shuffles to get comfortable, swinging his legs as he settles.

The firelight catches onto the curve of Peter’s curls, slicked down into wilted tendrils from the sweat dotting his hairline. 

His heart is positively thunderous in his chest. He raises his hand to soothe it and at once, sickeningly, painfully misses the comforting heat of the arc reactor.

“You wanna talk about it?” Peter asks, after a moment.

Tony smiles wryly, mostly to himself. Of course, there’s nothing that escapes Peters notice.

“Trust me, kid. There’s not much to say.”

“I somehow doubt that,” Peter says, fishing something out of his pocket and handing it to Tony “I, uh, thought you liked those. I took the last one.”

It’s a portugese egg tart, Tony notes, warmed slightly from Peter’s body heat. Fuck. He does like them. They’re his favourite. 

Tony pretends like his heart isn’t swelling to the point where it feels it's going to burst and breaks the tart in two, passing over the other half to Peter. 

“Thanks, kid. Try some.”

They eat their halves in relative silence, save for the sound of chewing and Peter’s shoes hitting the stone as he swings his legs. But the mood grows quieter, noticeably pensive after they finish eating. It makes Tony’s skin crawl.

“You know,” Peter says softly, as if raising his voice would shatter the moment, “you’re not the only one to come back to find years lost. To find the world different. I know it’s not easy. Especially on nights like this.”

Tony swallows roughly, chasing it with a mouthful of champagne. 

“You seem to have managed well.”

Peter huffs. “Oh yeah, real well. God, you don’t even know how --” his voice breaks off, voice wet with emotion. He looks away, throat bobbing as he gathers himself. “You just -- you don’t know.”

The moment feels fraught with enough gravity that it would bring the moon down between them.

“Hey,” Tony chides, trying to diffuse the heavy emotion with what levity he could utter. “Come on now, it’s supposed to be me out here maudlin. Don’t steal my thunder, Charlotte's Web.”

“Sorry,” Peter says, cracking a smile. “I’ll try to pencil in sad hours for later.”

“Appreciated.”

A comfortable silence settles between them. A woman, visibly drunk, passes them and raises her glass to Tony, the liquid sloshing out from the glass and down her arm. She doesn’t seem to notice, smiling and stumbling away.

That would have been Tony ten years ago (in his lived years). On the weekends without Morgan, sometimes it still is.

“Got any resolutions, Mr. Stark?”

Tony snorts. “Shit, kid, I don’t know. Take Morgan to Saturn. Run for president, get back on the Cosmo’s Bachelor of the Year.” 

“Most people just join a gym.”

“I didn’t come back to life to break my hip on a treadmill,” Tony says, offended. “What about you, Peter Rabbit?”

Peter takes a sip of his drink as he visibly deliberates. Wayward drops of champagne gather at the corner of his mouth before he scoops them with his tongue, eyes drifting to the glittering skyline.

“Yeah. I’m trying to get this guy that I’m into to take me seriously.”

Tony hums, stomach dropping.

“Some guy, huh?”

“Yeah. I’ve known him since I was fifteen and I’m like, super into him, but he still sees me as a child.”

His stomach swoops back up.  

“Well,” Tony clears his throat, daring to hope, “this guy’s an idiot if he can’t see you for the man you are. You’re a catch.”

Peter shrugs, inching closer as he adjusts his balance. Their hands are nearly touching and Tony can feel the heat radiating from the man's body and he hates himself for it, just a little bit, he’s too old to feel like a kid with a crush again. 

“He’s not an idiot. Well, he is, sometimes. Not all the time.”

“You sure this guy is good enough for you?”

“Yeah,” Peter nods, looking out at the skyline again. “He’s just lost. I can wait.”

“What if he’s not right for you?” Tony says, throat closing unexpectedly. “What if he’s not worth the wait?”

Peter shuffles closer. 

“He has been so far,” he says, bravely extending his pinkie so it curls atop Tony’s. In the cool night air the touch of skin against skin is scorching. “Worst case scenario has already happened. I’ve already lost him in the worst possible way. I could do without him calling me kid all the time though.”

“He makes no promises on that.”

“I thought as much.”

“You deserve better than lost, Pete,” Tony says around the lump in his throat. For a moment he can’t speak, the memories of electricity ripping through his body in a moment of love much like the feeling he has now. “You deserve the best.”

But Peter doesn’t say anything. He tugs on their linked pinkies to intertwine their fingers, resting them in the interstice of their pressed thighs. Tony doesn’t miss how Peter’s palms are damp against his, how they tremble ever so slightly. It’s grounding, to know Peter is as nervous as he is.

When he gets brave enough to stroke the back of Peters hand with his thumb some of the mired shame melts away.

“Deserve is subjective,” Peter says, squeezing Tony’s fingers. “And I decide he is the best.”

“What if he wants you back,” Tony whispers, shifting closer on the stone until their sides are entirely flush together. “But he has nothing to offer you. Doesn’t fit in with your life.”

“What about what I can offer him?” Peter clutches his hand tighter, raising it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on the back of Tony’s hand. “What if I'm there while he finds his way?”

“Pete.”

“You have time, Mr. Stark. You can figure the rest out as it comes to you.”

“And until then?”

“You go with the flow.”

“How?”

“Like this,” Peter whispers, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss. 

Closing his eyes, Tony leans into it and lets himself fall. Peters lips feel soft, pillowy, the kiss chaste and unassuming. When Peter pulls back he looks dazed, which is silly, because that was a tease for Tony. 

Eyes on the glistening bow of Peter’s lips, he wants to dive in and tug it between his teeth. So he does.

“That’s -- yeah,” Tony says, sliding their noses together, “Were you -- were you always this confident?”  

“I’m not confident,” Peter replies, kissing him again, pulling back to exhale shakily against Tony’s lips. “Holy cow. That was, like, a super big risk for me. Wow. Did I fool you? Are you fooled?”

“Bamboozled,” Tony says, staring at Peter’s lips again. “Just to confirm, I’m the guy, right? Resolution guy?”

“Y-yeah. Yes.”

 “Good,” Tony says, cupping his cheeks and kissing him again.

Fireworks bathe the couple in an electric array of neons, and crowds can be heard cheering from all around them. Tony pulls away to see Peter illuminated in brilliant colour, lips wet and swollen.

“Is this okay?” Peter reaches his free hand up to cup Tony’s cheek. “Is it weird? It’s a bit weird. Right?”

“It’s weird. But weird-different,” Tony amends. “Good different, right?”

“Right.”

“I should, maybe, keep kissing you to be sure.”

Peter’s answering grin against his lips vivifies the lights exploding around them.

To the soundtrack of waning fireworks, Tony gets lost in learning how Peter kisses, the shape of his lips, how the heat of his tongue feels against his own. 

Struck suddenly by a memory Tony pulls away from Peter to groan.

“What?” Peter queries, flushed and panting. “What’s wrong?” 

“I literally paid Morgan a hundred bucks to not tell you I was hot for you.”

Peter balks, staring at Tony as if he were stupid.

“Um, I have enhanced hearing, remember? And she told me, like, two months ago.”

Tony squints. 

“That little brat.”

——

The knowing smiles when they walk back into the ballroom from their family is a little uncalled for. Morgan is asleep in Peppers lap so she isn’t even awake to crow about her victory.

But the way Otto splutters as his eyes dart between the bruise on Tony’s neck and their joined hands is deeply worth it.

“Happy New Year, Mr. Octavius!” Peter beams, swinging their hands together. 

“And - and you. Mr. Parker.”

“Sorry to drop this on you last minute, would you mind if I get another ride home?”

“Well, I --”

“Let me compensate you for the cab,” Tony offers, dropping Peter’s hand to wind his arm around the younger man's waist, pulling their sides flush together. “It’s the least I can do. Don’t worry, Peter’s ride will be very enjoyable.”

“I take it you’re not coming back to the penthouse,” Pepper cuts in, sharing a look with Greg.

“Yeah,” Tony nods, already pulling Peter away. “When Morguna wakes up from her beauty sleep tell her she owes me a cut of the winnings, okay? Good. Happy New whatever.”

They stop by the dessert spread on their way out.

-----

Their taxi driver sends them scalding stares from the front seat.

It’s fine, Tony will compensate him generously in tips. Though, if he were the driver, he’d probably be pissed too. 

For all of his stealthyness as Spider-Man, Peter is not quiet right now. He bucks into Tony’s touch, rubbing his crotch against Tony’s hand. He breaks their kiss to moans lewdly into Tony’s mouth, breath hot against his face.

“Oh god,” he exhales shakily, tugging on Tony’s tie to bring their lips together in a filthy kiss.  

“Good?” Tony mumbles against his lips, grinding his palm down harder. Peter nods, tilting his head back to groan as Tony’s mouth latches onto his neck. The creamy skin is mottled with teeth marks and barely blooming hickies. 

Tony sucks and and laves his tongue over the heated skin to hear how his breath hitches, those high ahh-ahh’s that fall breathlessly out of his mouth, to hear him moan --

“M-Mr. Stark!”

Tony winces, pulling back.

He sighs. “Kid, if we’re doing this, you really gotta call me Tony.”

In an instant Peter’s face turns stony, somehow looking stern despite his swollen lips and wrinkled shirt. He looks like a petulant pitbull.

“If we’re doing this you really gotta stop calling me ‘kid’, Tony.”

Tony undoes the first button of Peter’s dress shirt, then the second, parting the folds of fabric to get a view of his collarbones.

“I suppose I would be amenable to such amendments, Peter,” he nods, “on the condition that you let me take you on a date.”

As Tony snakes a hand over the curves of his clavicle, Peter’s deft fingers undo the knot of Tony’s tie until it lies loose from his neck.

“I would be amenable to that. Conditions accepted.”

“Fantastic.”

“Yeah. I’m going to kiss you again now.”

“Okay. Yeah. Good.”

-----

With a heavy arm slung around his midsection, Tony finds out what Peter’s body feels like curled around his body when he wakes up the next morning.

There are a lot of little discoveries on New Years Day.

Like the feeling of Peter’s morning wood pressed pleasantly against his ass. Or how Peter squints adorably as he wakes up, as if he were confused by his own consciousness, his bedhead a mad nest of curls. Or how much Tony doesn’t mind the humid exchange of morning breath. 

“Do you always take your first dates to bed?” Peter queries over breakfast, the ghost of a teasing smile on his face.

“That was not a date,” Tony points his fork at him. Scrambled egg falls from the utensil onto the table. “And we didn’t even have sex. That’s misleading, mister.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Tony sniffs.

“You’ll find out when we have our first date, won’t you? Friday at seven. Yes or yes?”

Peter sips his coffee to hide his smile, but Tony still sees it.

“Yes.”

-----

They got their date. 

Six months after the New Years festivities comes Morgans eleventh birthday. 

Tony’s had a lot of dates with a lot of people, including Peter, but nothing quite trumps this. 

It’s a double date. With his ex-wife and her new husband. Plus twelve other kids and their parents at a McDonalds. 

All four are seated at a table, Peter to his side, squirming on the terrible, hard chairs while Pepper and Greg sit opposite. Several servings of burgers and fries lay cold between them. Mostly melted McFlurries ooze off the provided plastic spoon when disinterestedly stirred.

It’s terribly romantic.

Morgan wanted McDonalds with her friends for her birthday, and before the big move to middle school. It fell on date night. 

The garishly decorated diner is alive with the sounds of yelling and laughing, kids and their siblings running after one another, pushing each other down slides and following each other through narrow, plastic tunnels.

Tony’s never really been a double date kinda guy, particularly when it involves the mother of his child and his new, twenty-something lover. It was stilted in the beginning, made more awkward by Tony’s foursome jokes, but Peter keeps the conversation afloat, dipping the congealed fries into Tony’s melted ice cream. 

He rubs Tony’s lower back as he speaks. Soothing, grounding circles that inadvertently keep Tony in the present.

Peter likes being in constant contact, Tony found. Now that he has the permission. Whether its holding hands, a casual grip on Tonys knee, his thigh, his back. 

It’s… actually nice. Maybe because he does it too.

It’s not always about comfort though, Tony concedes, as Peter’s hand dips a little lower, brushing over the swell of his ass.

They share a knowing look. 

Tony knows now, what that odd twinkle in Peter’s eyes mean. That little pervert. He knows it in the way Peter bites his bottom lip, as if canary feathers are about to flutter out of his guilty mouth. He wants to lean over and kiss the look right off them.

Greg keeps a close eye on the playground, loafers tapping anxiously on the tiles when a kid pulls a daring move and nearly misses their landing. 

He’s not the worst, Tony concedes, wearily assessing the other man. He cares for Morgan which is a plus. But he’s greying gracefully and is genuinely so nice and humble that Tony can’t help but test him every now and then. How earnest can he truly be with Tony stealing a fry here and there and knocking his knees ‘accidentally’. 

The conversation turns to Morgans transition to middle school. Pepper thinks she’ll outgrow her peers in months and will pursue a more scientific-focused academic curriculum. 

It’s one of those rare, transient moments of life that Tony’s here to witness. He’s getting used to feeling like everything is going to be okay, like maybe he wasn’t brought back just to be a part of another fight. But there’s a lingering anxiety, he just doesn’t know how to deal with without a solder or a suit to tinker on.

He’s working on it though.

“Should we manhandle her highness back in for the cake?” Tony asks, hand snaking down to squeeze Peter’s firm thigh.

Peter, not missing a beat, sends him a smirk that says I’ll manhandle you. 

It’s only right that Tony tightens his grip on Peter’s thigh, smiling proudly to himself when Peters breath hitches.

A kid knocks into the back of Tony’s chair, screaming as they run towards the playground. Tony winces, the moment broken.

“Need I remind you two that we’re in a family establishment,” Pepper stresses.

“Yes,” Tony rolls his eyes, gesturing to the playground of rambunctious, screaming children. “How could I forget.”

“Tony.”

“You heard her, Pete, keep it safe for work. You’re making people uncomfortable,” Tony says, clamping down tighter on Peter's leg. Speaking to the couple, he gestures to Peter with his thumb. “Real horndog this one. Insatiable.”

“Me?” Peter says accusingly, jaw dropping.

Pepper raises an eyebrow cooly. “Please, Tony. Don’t think Morgan hasn’t told me about the time she walked in on you two. One time you told her you were checking each Peters temperature. With your long thermometer -- honestly, Tony. Try not to traumatise our child.”

Peter visibly colours at the mention.

“Wait,” Tony says. “That little -- I paid her twenty bucks not to tell you that.”

“So did I,” Peter frowns. “And I gave her the rest of my Reeses to seal the deal. Ah, crap.”

“You got played,” Greg snickers. Tony hates him again.

He nods at Pepper. 

“She gets that from you.”

Pepper smiles, unbothered, looking every ounce the image of class as she raises her plastic cup of milkshake to them.

Tony sighs, not even mad.

Some things never change.

-- Thank you to our wonderful artists and writer who participated in the first Starker Games! <3 <3 <3 this is fabulous and we hope you enjoyed yourselves!