#i hate when people put down others because they play certain games. like whatever league of legends player stereotypes whatever.

[huntedspy2]

dude having overwatch AND tf2 as special interests sucks because I follow people who are only into either game and therefore get exposed to their dislike for the other game. ljke cmon

if there's anyone that loves both overwatch and tf2 and posts about them please lmk id love to follow you 💚

[2dmenenthusiast]

Fire's Cool, Revenge is Better

Aizawa x Villain Reader, Dabi x Villain Reader

Listen I know I write for Aizawa a lot but I just love him :( But there's some Dabi in here to add a lil somethin somethin. ALSO I kinda kept this open in case ya'll wanted a part 2? There's no guarantees, but if enough people want it I might consider it

Summary: Meeting Shouta on rooftops was always fun and games until he thinks you're going to set him on fire.

Word count: 2.9K

Warnings/Other Info: Swearing, sexual themes, very small mention of assault, age gap, reader used to be his student but that was years ago and the reader is an adult in this so don't worry lmao, reader is kept gender-neutral, reader's quirk is spontaneous combustion (they can set things on fire just by looking at it)

This fic is intended for adult audiences, so minors DNI

The breeze felt good against your face, eyes gazing at the night sky as you sat on the edge of the roof of some random corporate building you couldn’t remember the name of. You briefly looked down at the street below, watching pedestrians walk along the sidewalk as cars drove by, and you idly swung your feet as you rummaged around in your jacket pocket before pulling out a pack of cigarettes. The sound of traffic at night was always relaxing to you, having lived in the city most of your life. You didn’t know if you’d ever be able to sleep without the distant noise of a car honking. The idea was honestly kind of unsettling, and you thought maybe a part of you liked it because the bustling of the city was comparable to the constant racing of your thoughts.

Letting out a huff, you checked the time on your phone as you placed a cigarette between your lips, looking at the end of it and feeling a slight pressure behind your eyes before it suddenly lit up and you took a drag. He’d be here any minute now, having memorized the schedule for his patrol. You’d been thinking about what you should say to him when you finally saw him but realized there was no point. There was no “preparing” when it came to Shouta Aizawa. You knew whatever you wanted to say would be thrown right out the window when you saw his piercing gaze, so you decided you’d just wing it. Not like that was unusual for you. You’ve been winging it most of your adult life, purely acting on impulse.

You heard a soft rustling behind you, smirking as you knew exactly who it was by how quiet they were. If you hadn’t committed his habits to memory, you probably wouldn’t have heard him. You heard him take a few steps towards you before suddenly stopping, and you let out a soft chuckle as you took another drag from the white stick, blowing the smoke into the air and watching it slowly fade.

“Took you long enough. Almost thought you wouldn’t show,” you said, a playful lilt to your voice as you stood and turned to face the erasure hero.

The city lights illuminated his shocked expression, eyes slightly widened as he took you in before his gaze narrowed.

“Y/n… what are you doing here?” he asked, the low timbre of his voice sending a pleasant feeling up your spine.

You shrugged, that familiar mischievous look in your eyes as you swiveled on the heel of your boot and began to pace. “Oh you know, just thought I’d get some fresh air, get a good look at all the pretty lights.” You paused, eyes hooded and a smirk tugging at your lips as you glanced over at Shouta. “Meet up with a certain hero.”

He audibly sighed, clearly not interested in whatever game you were playing, and you couldn’t help the grin that spread over your face. You didn’t meet up like this often, but when you did, it was always fun getting underneath his skin. It had been almost a year since you saw him last, and you swore he always looked different when you would see him. Maybe it was the circles under his eyes getting darker, or the new scar he acquired between visits, but you knew none of it mattered. This was still Shouta, a man you grew close to during your years at UA. Though, it all seemed like a distant memory now.

“So, how’ve you been, Sho? Still catching bad guys and putting ‘em behind bars and all that?”

“I have half the mind to do the same to you.”

“Oh, we both know you wouldn’t. You like me too much to see me locked up,” you said, taking a few steps closer to him as he stared at you with a pointed look. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to smile when you’re around me. You don’t always have to be so stoic and brooding.”

“What reason do I have to smile when being around you always gives me a headache?” he said, voice void of any emotion as you winced and placed a hand on your chest.

“Ouch, Sho. That actually kinda stung. I thought my presence was quite enjoyable.”

“You need to stop this, y/n.”

You raised an eyebrow, only a foot of distance between you now as you reached forward and lightly tugged at his capture weapon, feeling the fabric between your fingers before he swatted your hand away.

“Stop what? My general villain tomfoolery or annoying you?”

“Both. We both know you’re better than this.”

“Am I?”

You looked at him for a moment before letting out a scoff and taking a step back, shifting your gaze from him as you took one last drag from your cigarette. Throwing it on the ground, you stomped on it with the toe of your boot and turned to move back to the edge of the building, arms crossing over your chest.

“Fuck, hate it when you make me think about all this dumb, sappy shit. Can never let me have my fun, huh?” you huffed, tongue poking the inside of your cheek. “‘You’re better than this,’ fucking christ. If I had a damn dime for every time I heard that I’d be fuckin’ rich.”

You heard him sigh again. “Y/n-”

“Don’t ‘y/n’ me!” you yelled, spinning around as you felt your anger flare up, and your eyes landed on a red-eyed Shouta, his black hair floating in the air.

You both just stood there, gazing at each other until his hair eventually floated back down to his shoulders and his eyes stopped glowing, and you let out a humorless chuckle that eventually turned into a full-blown laugh, clapping as you doubled over.

“Oh, Shouta!” you cheered, arms out at your sides as you backed up towards the edge of the roof. “How glad I am to know that you have so little trust in me. What? Thought that I didn’t have my anger under control?” You took another step, heels peeking over the edge. “Thought I was gonna blow something up?”

“Y/n, don’t,” Shouta said, fists clenched as he stepped towards you.

“Don’t what, Sho? Jump?” You looked over your shoulder down at the street below, knowing that a fall from this height would certainly kill you. “Why not, huh? One less villain for you to deal with, right? One less inconvenience for you.”

“You really think that little of yourself? You think I want this?”

“It’s what everyone else believes. What the media spews out daily without any fucking semblance of the truth. The League… those guys are messed up, but they’re still people. People that society abandoned when they gained some gross fetish for heroes. You’re just their pawn, you know? They don’t give a shit about you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Maybe not,” you shrugged. “Maybe I’m still that naive student in your class, dreaming of being a big-time hero one day just like All Might.”

You moved your foot back, feeling nothing but empty space underneath it as you slowly let yourself fall back, your heart jumping up in your throat and your stomach in your chest. Your other foot was almost off the edge until you felt something wrap around you and you were pulled into a sturdy chest, and you looked up to see Shouta staring intently at you. Something between concern and confusion in his eyes, or maybe a combination of both. The corners of your mouth twitched up into a sad smile, reaching up to lightly trace the scar under the hero’s eye with the tips of your fingers.

“You’re not like them, Sho. You’re so much better. You don’t let the bullshit and lies cloud your judgment. You’re just… you. In all of your cynical and stubborn ways.”

Your hand moved to his stubbled cheek, feeling your eyes begin to well up with tears. He looked so tired, constantly burdened with the responsibility of being a hero and a teacher, dealing with rambunctious kids all day. And there then there was you, that same student that ran away all those years ago, just giving him more trouble than he needed. Maybe it was time to end this little “game” once and for all.

“I suppose I’ve never made things easy for you, have I? Always causing trouble in school… guess that attitude carried into my adult life, huh?”

It almost made you cringe calling yourself an adult in front of him. You half expected him to laugh in your face and remind you that you were just a kid, but he remained silent, gaze softening when he noticed the moisture build up under your eyes, and he removed his capture weapon from around you.

“I… I just wish I could run away sometimes,” you whispered, both hands holding Shouta’s face as a tear rolled down your cheek. “There’s nothing here for me. Though, I don’t think I’d be able to when you’re here.”

Despite how confident you were earlier, you felt like crawling into a hole at that moment. Your confession made you sound like a stupid love-struck teenager, which is the last thing you wanted him to see you as. It didn’t really matter what he was thinking, though. The way he was looking at you already made you feel like he was judging you. You sniffled and pulled away, arms wrapping around yourself as Shouta reached out for you, your name on the tip of his tongue. You shook your head.

“Don’t, just… I know I sound dumb. And I know it was stupid of me to think that…”

You sighed, memories of being in his class flooding your mind. You weren’t always so troubled. You had a few friends you got along with, but other than that you usually remained quiet. That excluded your outbursts, though. Something or someone would set you off, making some off-hand comment about how you didn’t belong in UA, and you would just vibrate with so much rage that something nearby would suddenly burst into flames, and it only made them tease you more.

That was until Shouta took you under his wing. He began teaching you how to control your quirk and use defensive techniques that didn’t involve setting anything on fire. It was the first time in your life that you felt like somebody cared about you. You were on your way to becoming a great hero. That all changed when you saw how corrupt hero society really was. Your mother worked at a pro hero’s agency, working her damndest to put food on the table for your family until there was an incident at her work with her boss, and his pro hero friends covered it all up to protect him. You remember how upset you were, blowing up the tv when you saw his smug face on screen talking to the press. It got so bad you almost destroyed a whole city block. You ran away before the police could find you, packing a bag and promising your mother you’d avenge her before setting off on your own, leaving before you could finish the second half of your third year at UA. Then the League eventually found you and took you in. No, you weren’t interested in destroying heroes like Shigaraki and his crew, but you were determined to expose them. Uncover all of the dirty truths they had all kept hidden away from the media so that they could keep their perfect image and have their fans worship the ground they walk on. It all made you sick, getting so angry and upset that you could practically feel the vomit wanting to crawl up into your throat you would get so nauseous just thinking about it.

Despite your different goals and his hate for pretty much everyone, Dabi and you got along quite well, surprisingly. Maybe it was only because of the similarities of your quirks, but regardless, you were glad to have a companion. While UA taught you how to control your quirk, Dabi helped you unleash it, realize the full potential of your powers, and your face would glow with wonder and exhilaration as you set the world ablaze. You ended up kissing him one night, so full of adrenaline and desperate for some sort of outlet for all of it that you found your lips firmly planted on his, and he was more than okay with it, gripping you tightly against him as he pried your lips open with his eager tongue.

You thought that’d be the end of your little transgression, but you were wrong. On more than one occasion, one of you would end up falling into the other’s bed, and you would be nothing more than a pair of tangled limbs and desperate touches as you both tried to feel something. You didn’t really view each other romantically, simply using each other when you needed a release. But despite that, you thought Dabi was beautiful. He would laugh whenever you told him that, saying you were too fucked out to think properly. But you meant it. Every time. Whenever you’d lay your head on his bare chest and lightly trace the edges of his scars, muttering those simple words into the air, and they would weigh heavy on him. You didn’t know, but he’d think about those words well after you’d retreat to your own room, puffing on a cigarette and trying to banish every and any thought of you. Besides, he knew your heart belonged to someone else.

You looked up at the sky, feeling Shouta’s gaze still on you before meeting his eyes with a smile, but there was no joy behind it. “I suppose you think I’m pretty pathetic, huh?”

“I think you’re troubled, y/n,” Shouta said, taking a step towards you. “I think you need help. Guidance.”

“There is no helping me, Shouta,” you muttered. “I don’t think I can believe in being a hero anymore after what happened.”

“I’m not asking you to. But believe in me. Believe that I want the best for you.”

His words made you pause, swallowing the lump in your throat as you shook your head. “I do believe in you… I just don’t believe in the society you represent.”

Shouta sighed, lips pressed tightly together as he regarded you with an almost unreadable expression, but you knew what that look was. It wasn’t disappointment, but regret.

“It wasn’t your fault, Sho. You were the only one who was ever really there for me, and you were the only person who went looking for me when I ran away. You cared about me. And that’s the only thing I could ever ask for. I know you might think that you failed me, but you helped me. You taught me how to control my abilities,” you paused, letting out a short breath. “but someone taught me how to use them. And until people know the truth… I won’t stop.”

Shouta looked like he wanted to say something when you heard a shout from below, walking towards the edge of the roof and seeing the League waiting for you on the sidewalk. Toga waved excitedly when she saw your face, and you smiled and shook your head before going back over to the older man. You reached forward hesitantly, hand brushing over his chest before bracing yourself against him as you leaned forward and pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth. When you pulled away, you swore you might’ve just given everything up for him at that moment. He looked so vulnerable, so open like you could reach right into his chest and rip his heart out and he wouldn’t care. But with another distant shout of your name, you were snapped out of your reverie and you moved away from him.

“Don’t come looking for me, Sho, and don’t try to stop me either. I don’t wanna hurt you, but if you get in my way, you’ll leave me no choice,” you said, giving the hero one last look as you turned to walk away, but stopped when you heard him call out your name. You glanced back at him, a brow raised in question.

“You’re making a mistake. This won’t change what happened.”

You hummed, slightly nodding as you smiled bitterly. “You’re right. But maybe I can stop it from happening to other people.”

Sparing him one last look, you took a deep breath and jumped from the roof. The ground rushed to meet you as the wind hit your face, and before you could hit the pavement, a pair of arms caught you and gently placed you on the ground. You looked into those electric blue eyes, letting out a small hum as you lightly punched Dabi’s shoulder.

“Thanks, sailor,” you said with a wink, and you playfully bumped your elbow against Shigaraki as you walked between the two men.

“So, how’d it go with lover boy?” Dabi asked, his hands shoved into his pockets, and a bitter taste filled your mouth as you thought about the mentioned hero.

“I don’t think we’ll be seeing him again anytime soon.”

If Dabi saw the way your jaw clenched or the flash of anguish in your eyes, he didn’t say anything, just simply threw an arm around your shoulders and let you stumble into his side. You didn’t know when or if you’d ever see Shouta again. But if you did, you wanted him to give you everything he got.

[ragingbookdragon]

The Batfamily Summer Pool Party

A/N: Actually, this was the first HC’s I ever did! Enjoy! -Thorne

ª     Headcanon that at the start of summer, Bruce allows everyone to come over to the manor for a ‘Start of Summer Pool Party’.

ª     Meaning, every Kryptonian, every Speedster, any and every alien on earth, the Teen Titans, the Titans, the Outlaws, and the Justice League.

ª     The first time Bruce mentioned doing it, the boys thought he’d officially lost it.

ª     The League did too.

ª     But after the first official pool party, it became a regular thing that kicked off summer for everyone.

ª     Bruce was wary about continuing it, but after seeing the unadulterated, ecstatic joy and laughter from his family, he’d realized it wasn’t so bad.

ª     He always spends upwards to two-hundred grand, but it’s money well spent.

ª     All the food, drinks, and games money can buy, he’s bought it.

ª     There are always three giant tables that Bruce always must explain.

“Middle one has all the food, the one to it’s left is alcoholic drinks-Tim put the Seagram’s back, you’re seventeen-I don’t care if you’ve drank before. You know what isn’t fun? Sitting in a jail cell because I’ve been charged with supplying alcohol to minors. The one on the middle’s right is non-alcoholic-Tim get your Dr. Pepper and stop complaining.”

ª     Jason’s been put in charge of the grill since he’s the best griller.

“Jason, need any help?”

“Nooooope.”

“Want any help?”

“Nooooope.”

“Want another beer?”

“Hell yeah.”

ª     Each person there gets two songs to play.

ª     The standing rule is: It must be PG-13 and can’t be the same song each time.

“I don’t care Dick, you can’t play Cardi B’s ‘Money’.”

“Oh, I can’t play ‘Money’, but Jason gets to play Nickelback’s ‘Rockstar’?”

“It literally has two cuss word in it compared to the twenty-five in ‘Money’.”

“Well can I play ‘Take a Chance on Me’?”

“No, you already played it.”

“Why do you guys hate ABBA so much?”

ª     You know that famous internet picture where the group of guys tries to float an extension cord on flip-flops to run a laptop?

ª     Tim tries to do that every time.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to do.”

“Go put the extension cord back in the house Tim. We do this every year.”

“One day you’ll let me.”

“Not likely.”

ª     Damian usually sits up on the deck watching and hating every second that ALL THESE PEOPLE are in his pool.

ª     He eventually started to have fun once Jon came over.

“What are you two doing?”

“We’re seeing how high I can toss Damian into the air.”

“For what purpose?”

“Dunno…just sounded like a good idea at the beginning.”

“And Damian went along with it?”

ª     Cue Damian screaming as he plummets back towards the water.

“…Not…exactly?”

*Sigh*

ª     More than once, Bruce had to stop Dick from trying to jump from the balconies and windows.

“I don’t care if the balconies hang over the pool! You aren’t allowed to do it! If all your friends jumped off balconies, would you do it too? That was rhetorical and you know it Dick. What do you mean you used to do it when you were a kid?”

ª     Bruce is constantly reprimanding the speedsters for running around the pool.

“Bart, I said no running!”

“Sorry Mr. Wayne!”

“Wally that means you too!”

“I wasn’t even running?!”

“I’m telling you before you start to.”

ª     He’s constantly telling everyone to keep the water in the pool.

“Can we, I don’t know, keep the water inside the pool, not outside it?”

“What’s wrong with having fun Bruce?”

“Dick, when you pay the water bill, you can talk.”

“Touché.”

ª     The biggest game of Marco Polo goes down.

ª     The Atlanteans aren’t allowed to play anymore.

ª     Superman eventually gets into the pool and Bruce’s ‘No throwing people rule’ goes down the drain.

“Clark, I said no throwing people.”

“Well, yeah, but look how happy they are.”

“Do you know that hitting the water from certain heights is exactly like hitting concrete?”

“You’re acting like I’m throwing them the height of the Empire State Building.”

“…Stop throwing my kids.”

ª     More than once, Bruce has stopped Damian and Tim from trying to drown each other while the others egg them on.

“Tim let go of Damian’s arm!”

“Tell him to let go of my hair!”

“I’ll let go of your hair when you let go of my arm!”

“Twenty bucks on the demon-spawn!”

“Jason stop encouraging them!”

“I’ll up your twenty to a fifty and bet on Tim!”

“Conner. No!”

ª     He’s also stopped Jason from burning steaks for people he doesn’t like.

“Jason quit burning Roy’s steak.”

“Well considering the fact that I’m in charge of the grill and not you old man, I’ll do whatever the hell I want.”

“Why are you even burning it? Aren’t you two best friends?”

“We were until I figured out, he was using my Netflix and Hulu accounts without asking me first.”

“Children. You’re both children.”

ª     Bruce is absolutely one of those people who enforces the whole ‘no swimming after eating, you wait thirty minutes’.

ª     It lasted until everyone just jumped back in.

ª     Diana eventually joins Clark in throwing people up and back into the pool, and Bruce is starting to pull his hair out.

“Diana. I. Said. No. Throwing.”

“You did, but we are not listening.”

“Tell me about it.”

ª     One time, Dick accidently drank too many alcoholic drinks (you know the ones that don’t taste like they have alcohol and then…it hits you) and face planted onto the deck.

ª     No one’s let him live it down.

“Remember that time Dick got so drunk he fell on his face?”

“Ha-ha, shut-up.”

“It was rather funny Dick. At first, you thought the orange pool noodle was me and you kept flirting with it.”

“Thank you for reminding me Kori. Hey, how come we never talk about Jason’s drunk adventures?”

“Because I can hold my liquor lightweight.”

“That’s rude Little-wing.”

“You’ll live Golden-Boy.”

ª     Alfred is sitting on a chair relaxing for once, completely undisturbed by what’s occurring around the pool.

ª     He’s been giving the day off and he’s absolutely taking advantage of it.

ª     Eventually, the sun begins to set and when night comes, everyone goes to the theater room for movies.

ª     The pool party ended up turning into an overnight thing.

ª     The Bat symbol turned on and immediately everyone turned to Bruce who just pointed at them and went ‘No.’

“Absolutely not.”

“C’mon Bruce, with all of us here, patrol will get done faster.”

“And let you teens and young adults have free reign of my city? I’d rather cut my own foot off.”

ª     There’s silence as everyone stares him down until Jason stands up and yells,

“He can’t catch all of us! Run!”

ª     Bruce and the JL spent the next six hours rounding up Teen Titans, Titans, and Outlaws.

ª     Patrol did get done faster; he will give Dick credit for that one.

ª     However, the phone call from Gordon and the mayor about the army of unannounced superheroes and the pure chaos as all the criminals fled in pure terror, was not one that he was overjoyed to get.

ª     But the ‘Start of Summer Pool Party’ had another success, and Bruce was happy to do it again the next year.

“Hey Bruce, can we do the pool party in Bora-Bora next year?”

“There’s no way in hell I’m flying everyone to Bora-Bora.”

“That’s what you think.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

[lunnanunna]

Good and Ready

ATEEZ Extra Member AU

Summary: San confronts Yoori about Yeosang (But in a good way.)

A/N: I don’t know if KQ has a dating ban, but for the sake of my story, there isn’t one. Hope you enjoy!

Requests are open! Let me know what you think.

Yoori helped pile the dry clothes into the basket, as San reloaded the dryer. The two were on laundry duty this week. They quietly hummed along to songs that traveled from the portable speaker that Yoori had brought with them, talking to each other every so often.

Out of all the chores, Yoori prefered this one. She found it relaxing to be in the small room, focusing on folding, being lulled by the steady sounds of the machines, and the calming scents of the detergent.

“After this we should play a round of League,” San suggested, starting up the machine. He leaned against it, arms folding over his chest as he looked at Yoori.

The slightly older smiled as she began to fold the clothes, placing them on the table near her. “I mean we could. Or you could play League, while I sit next to you playing Animal Crossing,” Yoori looked at him, giggling. San rolled his eyes.

“I hate how much you play that game. I miss playing games with you. Now all you do is work on your house all while going broke,” San grumbled, dropping his head back in frustration.

“Well, I wouldn’t be losing money if it weren’t for Tom,” Yoori laughed.

“That racoon dude?” San asked, straightening himself as he looked at Yoori, incredulously.

“The very one,” Yoori glared at the shirt in her hand as if it were the one to blame for her lack of Bells.

“Okay, whatever. As long as you chill with me,” San conceded. He smiled when Yoori grinned, as she went back to folding what looked like Yunho’s shirt.

“Fine by me. I didn’t want to be alone tonight anyways,” Yoori said absently, focusing on her task. San looked at Yoori curiously.

“Don’t you normally watch an episode of Knowing Bros with Yeosang?” he asked the girl. San had been noticing Yoori pulling away from Yeosang recently. If the other members had noticed the change, they hadn’t said anything, but San could see that Yeosang had noticed. He looked a bit dejected every time Yoori avoided him. He probably thought that he was hiding it well, but San knew that he wasn’t the only one that noticed the slight down turn on the blond’s lips.

Yoori tensed a bit, but recovered quickly, grabbing the last of the clothes in the basket and folding them neatly. “Uh, well- Well I kinda wanted to play a bit tonight?” Yoori said, or more like asked. Even to her, that excuse seemed flimsy. She was beginning to run out of them, and it had only been a week since she had started to step back a bit from Yeosang.

It wasn’t that she wanted to avoid him. (Okay, maybe she did a bit.) But it was because now that she knew her feelings for him, she didn’t want to make things awkward around them or damage their friendship. Though Yoori knew that she was doing those two exact things by avoiding him.

“Yoo, I’ve known you since we were in diapers. You can’t hide anything from me. So come on, what’s up?” San asked, walking over to the girl. He took the hoodie that was in her hands and dropped it back in the basket. Then placing his hands around Yoori’s waist, he lifted her up, sitting her on top of the washing machine.

Yoori avoided eye contact the whole time, choosing instead to look at her Rilakkuma slippers. San moved his face in front of hers and as she avoided it by moving her head, he followed, mimicking her movements. Yoori giggled a bit, despite herself.

“It’s nothing, Sannie,” Yoori said, grimacing once the boy held her face between his hands. Squishing and pinching her cheeks, San raised a brow.

“Really? ‘Cause you haven't avoided him this whole week?” San questioned, guiding Yoori to face him.

Yoori squeezed her eyes shut. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Yoori tried shaking her head free, then used her hands to pry his off of her face.

San removed his hands, chuckling. “I know you, Yoo. Something definitely happened that day when you guys argued. You two were all happy and giggly around each other after the fight. Then it stopped and you started pulling back. What happened?” he asked placing a hand on either side of Yoori, effectively trapping her.

Yoori hated how in tune San was with her emotions and thoughts. She swore they shared a brain. Taking a small breath, Yoori looked up at San.

“I don’t- I don’t know, okay?” Yoori shrugged, but continued when she saw that he was unconvinced. “I just- I guess, I realized something,” she whispered the last part. San almost didn’t hear her over the sound of the dryer.

“Realized what?” San looked at Yoori seriously, “Did something happen between you two?” At Yoori’s eyes widening, San realized that he had guessed correctly. He gave her a look that compelled her to answer.

Shrugging, Yoori whispered quickly, “IguessImightlikehim.” San blinked rapidly, trying to decipher what she had said.

“What?”

“I said,” Yoori answered exasperated, “I guess I might like him.” She waited for him to respond. Yoori knew that San wouldn’t judge her, but he may agree with Wooyoung.

San would have liked to say that he was surprised, but in all honesty, he had seen it coming. In fact what he was surprised about was the fact that it had taken her so long to realize herself. It was pretty obvious that she had feelings for the older, and he was pretty sure that Yeosang had feelings for Yoori as well. San was almost certain that at least a few of the members knew about this too, that’s how obvious and apparently, oblivious, they were.

“So your plan of action is to avoid him?” San quirked an amused brow. Yoori scowled.

“This isn’t funny, okay?” Yoori crossed her arms over her chest angrily.

San chuckled, “I know. I’m sorry.” Yoori glared at him. “I honestly don’t see why you’re avoiding him. It’s obvious he likes you too.”

“So Wooyung has told me,” Yoori rolled her eyes.

“Wait. You talked to Woo about this? Him before me?” San asked, faking hurt.

Yoori shook her head, “More like he talked to me. He told me that maybe it may be better if I didn’t act on my feelings. Though maybe avoiding wasn’t the best tactic.”

“Woo said that?” San asked, surprised that Wooyoung would have said that.

“Yeah. He said that it would be a risk for our careers and our groups’,” Yoori shrugged.

“Okay, while that’s true. It doesn’t mean that you guys should set aside your happiness so easily,” San said. “Personally I think that it may even be easier to date seeing as you two are in the same group and are already so touchy with each other,” he winked at Yoori.

Yoori grimaced, “I don’t need this right now.” San laughed, making Yoori smile slightly.

“Seriously, though. I think you should talk to Yeosang. See where he stands,” San said, holding up a hand as Yoori went to speak. “I know that you didn’t mean too, but Yeosang’s hurting. You’re avoiding him, and he probably thinks that he did something wrong,” he said, crossing his arms again, shrugging.

“I figured,” Yoori said dejectedly, “I just don’t know what to say to him.”

“Just tell him how you feel. You both need to be clear about that first before you can decide on what to do next,” San answered.

Yoori knew that he was right, but that didn’t make things easier. Even if Yeosang and Yoori liked each other, how would they date? Wouldn’t people notice? What would the group say? Hongjoong? Would the company kick them out?

“Woah, woah. Hey, Yoori. Hey, come back to me,” San’s voice broke through Yoori’s rapid thoughts. Her breathing slightly erratic. Did she almost slip into a panic attack?

“Yoo?”

Yoori nodded her head, looking at San. He prompted her to take deep breaths, and she did so. Slowly, her breathing regulated and she smiled her thanks to San. He smiled back, petting her hair.

“Wouldn’t the guys get mad if we tried something? I mean, Wooyoung kinda seemed put off by it,” Yoori said truthfully, once she calmed a bit more.

“Personally, I don’t think so. But maybe after talking to Yeosang, you guys should talk to Hongjoong-hyung. And as for Wooyoung, I don’t get why he’d be mad. The most that I can think of is that he’s trying to protect Yeosang,” San said, running a hand through his dark hair.

Yoori nodded, “That's what he said. He said that he didn’t want Yeosang to get hurt.”

“Makes sense,” San said, “Still think you should go and talk to Yeosang though.”

Yoori paused for a bit. She knew that she needed to talk to him, but she just wasn’t ready. She was scared. “I will. Just, not now,” Yoori said after a beat of silence.

“Sounds good. I just want you two to be happy, okay?” San smiled at Yoori, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of her head. Yoori hugged him, snuggling into his chest.

“I’m still scared,” she whispered.

“I can come with you. It may be a bit weird confessing, while I’m in the room, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll come,” San laughed lightly.

Yoori laughed too, “Thanks, but no thanks. That would be kinda weird.” She shook her head, “No, I gotta do this on my own.” San smiled at her. “Just not now.” Yoori hopped off the washer and ran out of the room.

“Yah, where are you going?” San asked laughing as he followed her down the hall.

“To try and settled my debt with a damn raccoon!” Yoori sprinted into their shared room, grabbing her switch. She’d talk to Yeosang when she’s ready. And knowing San, he wouldn’t leave her alone until she did.

Yoori’s Masterlist

[css1992]

If you let me

Starker, 12k+ words

Warnings: explicit, nff, 18+, daddy kink, daddy issues, age gap (duh), brief mentions of non-con (not between main pairing), unhealthy coping mechanisms. No power AU.  

The thing Peter liked about older men was that they were easy to figure out, no games necessary. They were usually after one of two things: a distraction from a midlife crisis or an affair. If it were a midlife crisis, they wanted adventure, but it had to be a dirty little secret – after all, they were raised in different times, their family and friends expected them to fit certain boxes. These men liked pretty, young things to make eyes at them, play coy, pretend to be naive and sweet and virginal. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t usually do this, am I doing it right?” Peter figured it made them feel young, powerful, strong, so he played along.  

The ones looking for an affair were pretty amusing, too, they usually had a good family, a beautiful wife, cute kids, but they wanted more. Something fun, and new, and crazy, without risking what they had. Usually, this happened to men who never got to experiment in their youth – again, different times. So they got married, had children, worked at boring jobs, barbecued on Sundays and fucked guys like Peter on Monday after work, or Tuesday before gym, or Wednesday after their son’s little league game.

It was cool with Peter either way, he didn’t want commitment, but he did want a few things. A warm, strong body to hold him for a couple of hours; a thick, hard cock to fill him up good, and that sense of protection and safeness that came from being with an older man. The endearments that inevitably fell from their lips, the praises, the gentleness of their touch, the way they grabbed him by the nape of his neck with a warm hand and called him boy. Good boy. Baby boy. With no strings attached, they had reputations to keep and families to get back to at the end of the night, which was perfect.

Peter had tried dating younger guys, but it just didn’t do it for him. They were often too eager, too fast, too rough. Just too young, in general. Not that older men couldn’t be too much, too, Peter learned it the hard way, not all of them knew how to take no for an answer; not all of them were willing to stop if he asked. It was okay, though, because even the ones who didn’t stop at his request were usually nice to him afterwards, so – no harm, no foul.  

The man looking back at him from across the room seemed like a good one. He knew he shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but he was gorgeous. Possibly the most handsome man Peter had ever seen in his short life. He must be well into his forties, if the wrinkles around his eyes and the graying hair at his temples were anything to go by, but his face was beautiful and yet so masculine. His eyes were kind-looking, bright and brown, with long eyelashes, framed by dark and thick eyebrows. His nose was thin and straight, almost aristocratic, but round at the tip, and he had a strong jawline and a well-groomed goatee, that framed the fullest, most kissable lips a man his age should be allowed to have.

He approached Peter with his drink, probably whiskey, judging by the color, and the younger man clutched his glass, smiling coyly when the gorgeous man finally stopped by his side,  looking at him intently.

“What’s a sweet boy like you doing all alone in this terrible place?” He had a charming smile that lighted up his whole face, it was almost blinding. Peter refrained from telling him it wasn’t a terrible place, otherwise such a distinct man like himself wouldn’t be there. It was a fancy, five-star hotel bar, Peter obviously couldn’t afford anything there, not even a glass of water, but he didn’t need to, every time he was there someone bought him a drink.

“I’m not alone anymore,” he smiled charmingly, sucking the colorful straw of his sugary drink. He hated it, but he was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, the drink had been sent to him by a shy gentleman sitting a few seats away from him. “And I’m not that sweet.”

“Is that so?” The older man seemed amused by Peter’s boldness, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He gave him a shameless once over, eyes traveling from head to toe, burning holes in the boy’s clothes,  but he seemed more than happy with what he saw. “Could have fooled me.”

“I’m Peter.” He offered his hand and the older man took it carefully, like a gentleman, and kissed his knuckles softly. Peter shook his head with amusement, more than aware of all the tricks a guy would pull to take a boy like him to bed. Little did he know, he already had Peter in the bag, no games needed.

“It’s a pleasure, Peter. I’m Tony.” He held his hand for a little longer than necessary, then let it go, sipping his whiskey slowly, eyes fixed on Peter’s face. “You looked so lonely here, all by yourself, thought I’d keep you company.”

“My hero.” The younger man grinned, tucking a stray curl behind his ear, under Tony’s intense gaze. “Did you come by yourself as well?”

“I never come by myself, sweetie.” He wiggled his eyebrows and if it were anyone else, Peter would probably have rolled his eyebrows and walked away, but that man was so magnetic he actually giggled at the lame joke. “I’m staying here for a couple of days, came from California for a boring meeting with some boring people, and I was just heading back upstairs when I saw you needed rescuing. Can I buy you another drink?” He gestured to Peter’s nearly empty glass and the young man nodded with a smile.

“If you insist.” Tony gestured to the bartender and he came over so quickly Peter thought he might trip over his own feet, which was odd, because he was basically scowling at at pretty much everyone at the bar all night.

“Yes, Mr. Stark?” The name sounded familiar, Peter was sure he had heard it before somewhere, and not that long ago, but he couldn’t place it.

“Another one of whatever he’s having. Put it on my tab.” Peter wanted to tell him that he didn’t want that pink, frilly drink, he could really use a beer, but again – gift horse.

“What was your meeting about, Mr. Stark?” He asked, cocking his head to the side, once the bartender hurried away to make his drink, and the older man narrowed his eyes slightly.

“It’s Tony, sweetheart.” He winked, downing the rest of his whiskey. He waved his empty glass at the bartender and he quickly nodded in understanding. “And what is everything ever about? Money, of course.” He shrugged. “You see, I’m plotting world domination, you need cash for that.”

“So I’ve heard.” He smiled, amused. His eyes drifted to the man’s hands when he accepted a new tumbler filled with golden liquid from the bartender, and Peter noticed that there were no rings on his fingers. “What’s your big plan to take over the world, Tony?”

“Clean energy.” The older man had a smart glint in his eyes when he answered, like he was satisfied with himself.

“Nice. Tell me more.” Peter wouldn’t usually take this long to drag a man to bed, but Tony seemed interesting and he was nice to look at, so he indulged himself a little bit. Besides, the bartender had just placed a fresh drink in front of him, he couldn’t let that go to waste.

“Well, it’s a little complicated, sweetheart.” Peter rolled his eyes, disappointed, but not surprised. Men like Tony would usually take one look at him and assume he was just a dumb, horny bimbo who couldn’t keep up with their wit.

“Why don’t you give it a try, sweetheart.” He mocked, seeing an amused smile take over Tony’s face, then he nodded.

“Fair enough.” He took a deep breath, scrunching his face up in thought for a few seconds. “Let’s see, do you know what a fusion reactor is, in theory? What it does?” He asked, and Peter nodded easily, sipping his drink. Tony looked doubtful, but went on anyway. “Well, so I created an affordable, compact fusion reactor that’s able to power all of New York City for a month with just a small amount of fuel.”

“That’s very impressive, assuming this is true. I suppose you’re using deuterium and tritium as fuel? Or just deuterium? How do you even meet the Lawson criterion? You’d have to heat the fuel to tens of millions of degrees, how do you produce enough energy for it to be self-sustained?” As the words left his lips, Tony’s eyes grew comically wide and Peter couldn’t avoid a chuckle.

“Who are you? Do you work for Hammer or something?” He took a step back, eyeing Peter suspiciously, so the younger man quickly shook his head.

“I’m just a waiter, Tony.” The older man continued to stare at him as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, or maybe he was waiting for Peter to confess that he was a corporate spy. Well, he couldn’t care less about any of that, he just wanted to get laid, so. “You don’t have to tell me how you did it, I was just curious.”

“Okay...” He said, slowly, approaching Peter again, carefully. He searched his face for a few seconds, then shrugged. “I’ll bite.” An amused smile stretched over his face. “It’s not like it’s a secret anymore, I did publish a paper on this subject just last week. Anyway, I’m using hydrogen isotopes with palladium, which means –“

“Cold nuclear fusion.” Peter raised his eyebrows, a little shocked, and the man seemed just as shocked by the fact the Peter understood what he said. “Are you telling me you cracked cold nuclear fusion? Scratch that, are you telling me you cracked nuclear fusion as a viable energy source at all?” He asked, still a little incredulous, but the older man looked really proud of himself, so maybe he was telling the truth.

“If you give me your e-mail address, I can send you the paper I wrote on that.” He sipped his drink again, giving Peter another once over, more carefully this time around. “I’ve gotta admit, I’m impressed, kid. I came here fully expecting to talk to an airheaded, slightly tipsy twink. I was planning to charm you with a few smart words and talk about world domination.” Tony’s smile was genuine and it was beautiful. He seemed so relaxed when he smiled, and so much younger.

“Is that what you like?” Peter cocked his head with a raised brow and a teasing smile, and Tony shrugged, still grinning.

“Sometimes, yeah.” He got a little closer and Peter observed with interest as he dragged his eyes lazily all over his body, making his skin tingle with anticipation. “Not tonight, though.”

--

Peter lay on the bed feeling a little dizzy and short-breathed, already fully naked – when had that happened? - as he watched the older man unbuttoning his crisp white, expensive-looking shirt, revealing a broad chest spattered with soft hairs, muscular abs and strong biceps. Peter was still trying to figure out what hit him when he entered that hotel room, Tony was like a force of nature the way he attacked his lips, hands roaming freely all over his body, like he owned him, like Peter belonged to him. It was thrilling and intoxicating and the young man was still dizzy, trying to wrap his head around what was going on, because that man could not be real.

He sure felt real, though, when his goatee prickled his sensitive neck, as those sexy lips left a wet trail of kisses across his jawline, then down his throat. Peter moaned helplessly, carding his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with short nails, biting his lips and trying not to make a fool of himself by moaning like a bitch in heat, which was exactly how he felt right then and there.

His mouth traveled down to his collarbones, biting across them with great care and the right amount of pressure to leave bruises, but not too many, licking the sore skin right after as if to soothe it. The older man stuck a clothed leg between Peter’s and he humped against it unashamedly, eyes rolling back in pleasure, feeling Tony’s lips stretch in a smile against his skin.

“So needy...” He whispered hoarsely, before attacking one of his nipples, sucking it into his mouth, torturing the little bud sweetly by holding it between his teeth as he licked it with the rough pad of his tongue. Peter threw his head back in ecstasy, hips bucking up to meet Tony’s leg. His nipples were so sensitive, it was the easiest way to get him off quickly, and it was like the older man knew that, like he knew everything about Peter’s body, he played him like a violin. “Such a pretty boy.” He dragged his lips to his other nipple, his goatee scratching the sensitive skin of his chest. He’d have beard burns all over his come morning, but he couldn’t care less. “Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

“Fuck.” Peter loved it when they said it first. He always felt awkward bringing it up, always felt weird asking to call someone daddy, or even just saying it out of the blue. Not that he ever received a bad reaction, but he was just afraid one of these days someone might not like it so much. “Fuck, daddy, your mouth feels so good,” he cried, writhing on the bed and rutting against the older man’s leg. His cock was impossibly hard and leaking so much precum he was worried he’d ruin Tony’s very expensive-looking pants, but not worried enough to stop. He could feel the older man’s hard-on pressing against his thigh and his mouth filled with saliva just thinking about what it looked like, how good it would taste on his tongue – fuck.  

Tony kept alternating between his nipples, sucking and biting them until they almost hurt from how sensitive they became – swollen and red from the abuse. Sensing it, the older man made his way down his abs, dragging his teeth and tongue all over his skin and quivering muscles, until Peter was no longer able to rub against his leg, but it didn’t stop him from trying. The older man stopped when he reached his cock and Peter blushed a little. He was always a little self-conscious about that part of him, he knew he was a little on the small side, but Tony didn’t seem to mind at all.

“You have such a pretty cock, baby, so hard already, you’re leaking all over, making such a mess.” His hot breath on Peter’s sensitive, flushed skin made him shiver, body trembling with anticipation, as he tried to breathe deeply to avoid a disaster.  “Daddy’s gonna take care of it now, ok? You just sit back and relax.”

He swallowed Peter’s whole cock in one go and the younger man went to heaven and back in a matter of seconds, eyes rolling, back arched off the bed, hands grabbing the other man’s head desperately, toes curling in warning. He moaned loudly, beyond caring if Tony would find it weird, his fingers were shaking, skin shivering. The brunette didn’t seem to mind, though, as he pulled back slowly to suck the very tip of his cock, only to go all the way down again, until Peter could feel the back of his throat and the way it squeezed his cock when he swallowed.

He was good, fuck, he was so good, probably the best Peter ever had, some guys didn’t even care if he got off or not, some didn’t even mind much if he was hard. Not this guy – fuck – this guy didn’t even seem like he cared about getting himself off; from the moment their lips touched for the first time it was all about Peter.

His hands traveled up Peter’s legs from the back of his knees, touch so light he could barely feel it, but a jolt of electricity traveled all the way up to the back of his neck, his hole fluttered around nothing, he was so fucking empty all of a sudden. Tony’s hands reached his ass and he palmed his cheeks hungrily, his fingers were strong and rough as they lifted Peter’s lower half from the bed to meet his mouth halfway. It felt so good, being manhandled like that by such a powerful, gorgeous man, he was going insane seeing that mop of brown-gray hair bobbing up and down on his cock, he was –

“Fuck, daddy, stop, stop – I’m gonna –“

He stopped almost immediately, letting his cock go with a pop and a smirk. He reached for the night stand, where a bottle of lube and a packet of condom sat innocently. Ah, he had planned it. Of course he had, he went to that meeting knowing that he wouldn’t come up to his room alone. Peter was just glad he was the lucky one.

Tony threw the supplies on the bed, then ran his wide, open palms from Peter’s thighs to his ankles, before placing them on his shoulders. He kissed both of his knees sweetly and Peter didn’t really know why, but it made him shiver, his nipples perked up and he gasped, biting his lower lip. Tony leaned forward, folding him almost in half, and took his mouth possessively, capturing his lips like they belonged to him, like it was his right. His tongue fucked into his mouth like a promise and Peter felt helpless and hot all over, hole quivering desperately, begging for touch.

“You were lying earlier, baby boy, you’re just as sweet as I imagined,” he murmured against his lips, before dragging his mouth across his jawline, his goatee scratching his face in the most sweet torture he could imagine. When Tony bit his ear, he felt his wet, slick finger trying to breach him and he yelped in surprise. Again, when had that happened? The older man made him feel so out of it, he thought he was missing time. “You okay?” He asked, seriously, stopping at once.

“Yeah, I’m good, just kiss me,” Peter didn’t mean to sound so needy, and he usually didn’t, but fuck. That guy was messing with his head. Tony smirked and obeyed; his soft, wet lips could almost swallow Peter whole, it drove him mad with want. He barely felt as the finger tried to breach him again, successfully this time, then went deeper and deeper until it was fully sheathed inside him. He whined into Tony’s mouth as he rocked against it, craving that sweet friction, that slight burn on his rim.

Tony fucked his finger in and out of his hole slowly, carefully, it slid easily with the help of a lot of lube. It was such a sweet kind of torture, the promise of something so much better, bigger –

“Fuck,” He squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip until it hurt, as he tried to reign in the pleasure when Tony brushed against his prostate. “Right there, daddy, please...” He could barely form words when he felt the older man slide yet another finger inside him, as he kissed his neck soothingly. “Oh, fuck.”

“Doing okay, sweetie?” He asked quietly against his skin, fingers moving ever so gently until Peter nodded his head frantically and he chuckled, resuming his pace from earlier that night. He scissored his digits and curled them inside him, as Peter moved with him trying to get him to go deeper, faster, harder, he didn’t really know anymore, but he saw white when Tony found his sweet spot again.

“I-I’m not gonna last, daddy,” he warned, feeling another jolt of pleasure course through him when Tony pressured against his prostate yet again. “Pl-please!”

“You beg so nicely,” he whispered against his lips, drawing his fingers out of his hole. He sat up straight on his knees, letting Peter’s legs fall from his shoulders, as he started undoing his pants. “Are you gonna take it like a good boy, huh?” he asked, lowering his pants just enough to free his cock and Peter gasped, because it was fucking gorgeous – long, thick and veiny, and so fucking hard it was dripping, head flushed almost purple, it looked painful. “Do you wanna help daddy get it ready for your little hole?” He asked, stroking it slowly, and Peter up quickly, licking his lips. “Open your mouth, baby, there you go. Just the tip, ok? Don’t make daddy come too early.”

The younger man barely let him finish before he was licking and sucking the head of his cock into his mouth, groaning in satisfaction when the salty, bitter taste of his precum filled his mouth. He held the shaft with one hand, pumping it, and when he looked up he saw Tony with his eyes closed, mouth parted open and he almost came untouched right then and there. “Fuck,” he whispered, pushing Peter’s head away gently, and he whined unhappily.

Tony smirked as he got out of the bed to take his pants and underwear off, returning quickly to push Peter back onto the mattress. The younger man parted his legs, eager for what was to come, and Tony wasted no time, the blunt head of his cock started breaching him unrelentingly. Peter threw his head back, crying out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but it was good, fucking perfect.

“Sh, shh, you can take it, I know you can, baby.” He placed sweet kisses on Peter’s neck as each inch of his cock was forced into him, and it felt endless, so big, it wasn’t gonna fit, it wasn’t –“There you go, baby, so good for me, such a good boy.” He whispered against his hair and Peter felt so full, his head was dizzy, he felt so out of it, light, floating, and so fucking good. “Doing okay there, sweetie?”

“Yes, daddy, feels so good,” He was able to answer, grabbing the older man’s face to drag him down for a filthy kiss. “You feel so fucking good, fuck me.”

“As you wish.” He grinned, pulling back slowly only to slam back into him hard, making him see stars. He set a hallucinating pace, hammering into Peter like a madman, hands clutching his ass, his thighs, his waist, leaving bruises everywhere. The younger man wrapped his legs around him for leverage as he rocked back against him just as hard, fingers leaving marks on strong shoulders.  Peter saw white when his orgasm took him by surprise – he hadn’t even touched his cock – and when Tony saw it, he lost it. “Fuck, you’re so fucking hot.” He kissed him again, sloppy, dirty, wet, and Peter’s hole was sensitive, but it felt so fucking good, he thought would come again. Tony grunted against his lips when he came, hips bucking a few times, before his body fell limply on top Peter, the younger man’s legs falling apart to make room for him.

They lay there for what felt like hours, Tony’s body felt heavy, but good, it grounded him. He shut his eyes and let his fingers run across his broad back as they both tried to catch their breaths. After a while, Tony pulled off, placed a kiss on his abused, swollen lips, and got up from the bed. Peter hissed at the slight burn, but said nothing as the older man headed to the bathroom.

He heard the slick sound of the condom being taken off and thrown in the trash, then he head the tap running and, after a few seconds, Tony came back with a wet towel and gently cleaned his chest and stomach, and Peter smiled, eyes fluttering shut. He wouldn’t fall asleep, though, of course he wouldn’t. He had to go home, back to his own bed, back to real life.

The older man got back in bed and pulled Peter closer, let him rest his head on his chest, and they  lay there silently for a while longer, but it didn’t feel weird or awkward, it was nice, Tony’s fingers scratched his scalp as Peter’s fingers drew figures on his skin. It was getting pretty late, though, and he still had to catch the train. He sat up lazily, stretched, then got up to find his clothes.

“Can I see you again?” He was surprised to hear the older man’s voice. He turned around, already buttoning up his shirt, and smirked, as he approached the bed. He covered the older man’s eyes with a hand, playfully.

“I don’t know, can you?” He grinned when Tony grabbed his wrist, an annoyed huff leaving his lips.

“Cheeky.” He kissed his knuckles like he had earlier that night, then looked up at him with a resigned expression. “Is that a no?”

“It’s a ‘give it a try’” Peter winked, smiling honestly. He wasn’t against seeing the older man again, as long as they kept it casual. He didn’t usually go for second “dates” - or fucks – be he could make a few rare exceptions here and there.

“Good.” He smiled that beautiful, genuine smile of his and got up from the bed in all his naked glory. “When you get downstairs, there will be a grumpy-looking man waiting out front. That’s my driver. I’ll text him to take you anywhere you need to go.”

“Oh, there’s no need, really –“

“Let’s skip this part, just accept it, sweetheart. It’s late, if you go out there by yourself and something happens, I feel like that’s on me, and I don’t need that on my conscience.” He took Peter by the chin and pulled him closer, giving him one last kiss. “I’ll see you soon.”

Peter figured he didn’t mean it, he didn’t even ask for his phone number, but that was okay.

~-*-~

“How are you doing, man? It feels like we haven’t talked in ages.” Ned was on speaker because Peter couldn’t seem to find his one good, clean shirt that was supposed to be on the top drawer of the dresser, but it wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“That’s because it’s been ages, dude. I miss you. Stop pulling that disappearing act, will you?” His voice sounded a little sad and Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I know, I’m sorry, life’s crazy when you don’t have a cool, tech job, you know? I’m killing myself here trying to make ends meet.” There was no bite to his tone and Ned knew he wasn’t being bitter, Peter was actually proud of him. When they graduated high school, his friend got accepted into Caltech and was hired by a big company right out of college. He had a nice life in Malibu, it seemed, but Peter never got to visit him.

“You could have one, you know that.” Again, Peter sighed, he hated hearing that familiar sound of disappointment in his voice.

“So, how’s work, anyway?” He changed the subject quickly, finally finding his shirt under the bed, for whatever reason. His phone announced a new message and a quick look revealed it was from Adrian Toomes, the guy he was supposed to meet in an hour and he was already running late. He seemed nice when they talked on Tinder, he had kind, blue eyes, but he was also a little older then Peter would usually go for, but he thought he’d give it a try.

“It’s ok, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Stark Industries is about to launch a new power plant that’s supposed to generate renewable, clean energy, at really low prices.” Peter paused for a second when he heard the name, but then it all made sense, why it had sounded so familiar. Ned had been working for Stark Industries ever since he graduated last fall. “So it’s been a little crazy, but it’s good.”

“Oh, yeah, cool.” He sat on the bed to tie his shoelaces and couldn’t keep his mind from wandering. He remembered that glorious night with Tony and it sent shivers down his spine. He hadn’t thought of that in a while, it had been three weeks since then and, sure enough, no word from him.

“Dude, you know I’m worried about you, right?” Ned asked and Peter flopped on the bed, sighing.

“No need to, Ned, seriously, I’m fine, I’m more than fine, actually.” It felt like the hundredth time that he had to say that in the last half hour.

“Really? When was the last time you saw May?” Peter squeezed his eyes shut at that, refusing to feel the burn of tears that were sure to follow every time he thought of her. He missed her so much, but couldn’t bear the look on her face whenever they met and she realized he’d never amount to anything anymore.

“I don’t know, Christmas?” He shrugged, alone in his messy, tiny room in Brooklyn, and he missed his tiny, old room in Queens, which always smelled of May’s nasty cooking.

“Dude, fuck, that was eight months ago, what about your birthday?” He sounded alarmed for some reason, and Peter flinched, because, yeah – almost a year. Almost a whole goddamned year.

“We talked on the phone. I was busy.” He muttered, fumbling with the hem of his shirt, like a kid who knew he’d messed up.

“Doing what?” Came the outraged reply.

“Stuff.”

“Peter, c’mon!” Ned sighed, frustrated, and Peter pinched his nose, shutting his eyes.

“Ned, stop this, it’s –”

“I just… You’re killing yourself, man, you don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve any of this. You deserve to go to a good college, get a good job, have a good relationship with your aunt, who’s your only fucking family, and –“

“Look, I gotta go, I’m late for work. Catch you later?” He asked in a haste, sitting up and taking the phone from the bed. There were three texts from Adrian asking if he was close, and he typed in a quick answer as he flew out the door.

“Sure, man. Talk later.” As always, Ned sounded tired and disappointed, and that was exactly why they never talked anymore.

~–*–~

“Hey, Parker, table three asked for you specifically.” Brad rolled his eyes impatiently as he handed Peter the menu. “You always get the best fucking tables,” he grumbled, walking away towards the kitchen.

Peter took a deep breath and braced himself for what was bound to be a night of unwanted flirting and maybe even some ass groping, which was what usually happened when someone asked for him specifically. That place was a dump, they couldn’t careless if the waiters were harassed by the clients, as long as they payed for their food. Well, he hoped some good tipping was involved, otherwise he would lose his shit, he really wasn’t having a good day.

When he headed towards the table, though, he quickly recognized those smart, brown eyes staring back at him, that cocky smirk framing perfect, straight, white teeth and the honey-like voice that greeted him.

“Missed me?” He asked coolly, but Peter knew better than that, a man like Tony Stark wouldn’t casually walk into a dumpster in Brooklyn to have dinner on a Thursday evening. He was there for a reason.

“How did you know where to find me?” Peter raised his eyebrows, clutching the menu, and the older man just looked amused.

“I have my ways,” he replied unhelpfully, with a smug, self-satisfied grin, and Peter couldn’t help but smile back, even though it was a little creepy.

“Should I be worried?” He asked, placing the menu in front of the older man and, sure enough, he didn’t even try to pretend to be interested in it.

“Probably.” He shrugged, eyes never leaving Peter’s body, like they were actually trying to burn holes in his clothes. “So, is the waiter on the menu?” He cocked his head to the side, trying to look at Peter’s ass, and the younger man chuckled, shaking his head at his antics.

“I’m afraid not, sir.” He looked around to check if anyone was listening in on them, and once he was satisfied, leaned down a little to whisper closer to the older man’s ear. “But he gets off at eleven if you wanna ask him again.” A wide grin spread across the man’s perfect face, accentuating the little crow feet around his eyes.

“My driver will meet you out front.”

--

“Sh, sh, shhh, nice and slow, sweetie, nice and slow… There you go. Good boy.” Peter felt like crying as he rode the older man’s cock painfully slowly, knuckles white from clutching the solid muscles on his shoulders like his life depended on it. With one hand, Tony held his right hip firmly, dictating the pace, and with the other he was stroking Peter’s cock, pumping it lazily, as he kissed his jaw and nipped his neck. “Such a sweet boy.”

“Daddy, please, I need to come so badly,” he begged, eyes squeezed shut, hips twitching, wanting to go faster. He felt so full, and stretched, and perfect, he just wanted to ride the hell out of that dick and find his release, but the mere sound of Tony’s voice telling him to go slow was enough to pin him to place. Fuck, the things he’d let that man do to him.

“Not now, honey, I’ll make it good for you, I promise,” he whispered against his lips, before taking them roughly. Peter cupped the older man’s face with both of his hands, kissing him back with just as much hunger and despair, trying with all his heart to keep the slow pace that Tony imposed.

“You’re killing me.” He bit Tony’s lip harder than necessary and the older man smirked, biting him back, as his right hand left his hip to tug his hair. Peter moaned as he sunk back down on his cock, trying to take it as deeply as it could possibly go and it drove him a little mad when it brushed against his prostate for the hundredth time that night. He moved upwards until the head of his cock almost slipped out of him, making them both hiss, Peter’s dick was leaking so much precum Tony’s stomach was soaking wet with it.  

“You’re such an impatient brat,” he grumbled, tugging Peter’s hair hard enough to make him tilt his head back, exposing his throat, and Tony attacked it with soft bites and kisses. “It feels amazing inside of you, I’m just enjoying it for as long as I can, is it to much to ask?” His hand slid from the back of his head all the way down his back to his ass and Tony grabbed it roughly, squeezing his right cheek before slapping it loudly.

“You’re mean,” he whined softly, but he shivered all over at the words, the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as the cock inside him brushed his prostate yet again. “Daddy!”

“Take what you need, baby, c’mon.” Finally, sweet permission. Peter let himself go with abandon, holding on to Tony’s shoulders as he bounced on his cock for dear life, trying messily to thrust into the tight squeeze of his fist at the same time. “That’s it, baby, come for me, come on.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He slipped over the edge, falling limp in Tony’s arms, and the older man flipped him easily, lying him on the couch, manhandling him like he was a rag doll, only to pound him into the cushions, taking his pleasure from him like it was his god-given right. Fuck, he was so hot with his face all scrunched up in pleasure, in ecstasy, as he came inside Peter. He wished he could feel his seed sliding out of him, he really did.

They lay there for a while, breathing heavily, and again Peter felt like Tony’s weight on top of him was grounding and soothing. It didn’t last long, though, as the older man rolled off of him and headed for the bathroom, coming out a few minutes later with a wet towel to clean him up.

“How do you feel about room service?” He asked, once he was done, as he sat back on the couch with Peter’s legs on his lap. “I’m starving, that ting you called a steak hardly counts as dinner.”

“Ah, which reminds me,” Peter reached for his jeans on the floor, struggling a little. He pulled out the five hundred dollars Tony had left on the table from his left pocket and offered it to the older man, who raised a brow. “I’m a little slutty, but you do know I’m not actually a hooker, right?”

“What? I just really enjoyed the service back in the restaurant.” He feigned innocence but accepted the money back, throwing it on the couch. “I was just trying to show my appreciation.”

“I can think of a few other ways you can show your appreciation,” Peter smirked, parting his legs, making Tony laugh loudly.

“Starting with some food, how about that? You must be hungry, too.” He squeezed Peter’s calves, and the younger man bit his lip. He should really leave, he really wasn’t the type to stay around after fucking. It just felt weird and overly intimate to be with a person after you’re both sated, it seemed besides the point. Still--

“Sounds good.”

The older man grinned and quickly grabbed the phone to place an order, Peter couldn’t understand half the words he said, really, but he’d eat pretty much anything. Feeling a little self-conscious to be naked now that they were done, he crossed his arms over his chest, not sure if he should get dressed, or if it was rude or whatever, he really wasn’t familiar with that part.

“Are you cold?” Tony probably noticed him rubbing his arms.

“Yeah, a little,” he answered sheepishly, and the older man got up from the couch, heading for the bathroom again, coming back with two robes.

“Here. It is a bit chilly.” Peter accepted it with a sigh of relief and quickly covered himself with the soft, fluffy robe. Tony grinned when Peter snuggled on the couch like a satisfied cat, then walked to the mini bar in his own robe, which somehow made him look expensive and refined, not like he had just stepped out of a bath. “So, how long have you worked at that restaurant?”

“I don’t know, too long, for sure.” Peter smiled, watching as the older man filled two glasses with scotch from tiny bottles. “Why, do you wanna hire me? Not as an escort, I hope.”

“That wouldn’t be such a terrible idea. I could keep you on my arm like a pretty accessory, people would assume you were just a dumb gold-digger. Then you’d open your mouth and knock them dead with that brilliant brain of yours. I’d pay good money to see that.” Tony came back with the glasses then offered one to Peter, as he sat on the couch by his side. “But seriously, kid, you’re so smart. Thought you’d be doing something else. I actually looked you up to make sure you weren’t a corporate spy working for Oscorps or something, that’s how I knew where to find you.”

“Told you, just a waiter.” He shrugged, growing uncomfortable with the subject, and the older man must have picked up on that, because he dropped it immediately.

“Did you get a chance to read my paper?” He asked with a curious glint in his eyes and Peter nodded excitedly.  

“Yes, I looked it up, it’s genius! Where the fuck did that idea come from?”

Everything became easier after that, they spent hours talking about the arc reactor, how it worked, and how Tony got the idea for it. When the food arrived, they sat at the small table in the room and somehow ended up talking about Tony’s time at MIT – Peter’s dream college –, about Stark industries, what life was like in Malibu. Peter had no idea what he was eating, but it was delicious, and so was the wine. It was nearing 2AM when they finished and Peter started getting dressed.

“You can stay over, you know, plenty of room in the bed.” Tony announced from his spot on the couch, nursing yet another glass of scotch.

“Oh, I noticed.” Peter smirked, but didn’t reply to what the older man said, as he continued to get dressed. Tony didn’t say anything for a few minutes, just kept watching Peter like some sort of predator.

“What a man’s got to do to get your phone number, huh?” The older man’s voice startled him when he was fully dressed and he turned around, raising an eyebrow.

“You could try asking for it.” He smirked, seeing a similar expression take over Tony’s face.

“Can I have you number, kid?” He asked, amused, and Peter pretended to think, tapping his chin.

“I don’t know, I kinda like my privacy.” He sighed, and the older man threw a cushion at him, making him giggle. He told him the number, though, and Tony typed it into his phone.  

“Is that your real number? Will you actually answer if I call?” He narrowed his eyes and Peter shrugged.

“You’ll have to figure that out yourself.” He crossed his arms over his chest when Tony got up from the couch, approaching him slowly.

“Why do you have to be such a tease about everything, you little minx?” His robe was tied very loosely around his waist, his chest was almost completely exposed, Peter’s fingers twitched, wanting to touch it.

“I’m a man of mystery” He answered gravely, feeling the older man’s strong arms wrapping around his waist.

“You’re an asshole,” Tony muttered against his neck as he bit it, and Peter giggled, trying to get away.

“You like my asshole.” They burst out laughing and Tony pulled him into one last kiss.  

~-*-~

Walking inside that apartment felt like time-traveling. Everything was exactly how he left it years ago, May didn’t move a single vase out of place. He suspected that his room would still be the same, too, but didn’t dare to check. He sat on the couch and observed May’s features, she looked older. Still incredibly gorgeous, yes, but older. The only thing in the apartment that gave away that time had moved on.

“Mr. Delmar asked about you the other day.” She smiled, sipping her coffee.

“It’s been a while.” He admitted, watching her face become more serious as she nodded slowly.

Fuck, this was such a bad idea, he shouldn’t have come. Ever since his talk with Ned, he was feeling guilty about not visiting May, but sitting there, in his childhood home, with the woman who raised him like a mother, felt – wrong. He didn’t deserve to be there. He should never be there. He ruined her.

“It wasn’t your fault, Pete,” she could always tell what he was thinking – another good reason not to visit. “There was nothing you could have done to –“

“I was right there, May,” he cut her off, quietly, rubbing his hands at his face. They’d had that conversation at least a million times over the years and it still felt draining. “He pointed the gun at me first, you know. Ben protected me. I stood there, frozen, like a scared little boy. I didn’t –“

“What were you supposed to do? Jump in front of the bullet? Die in his place? Peter, he would never want you to do that, I would never want you to do that! You were like a son to him, to us, it was our duty to protect you, not the other way around!” She pleaded, desperate, and he looked away from her. No matter what she said, he looked at her, at how – broken she was, and he knew it was because of him. Because he couldn’t help Ben. Because her husband gave his life to save his, and Ben was a hardworking, kind, loving man, who had May and tons of friends, and Peter was just – worthless. He knew, deep down, May could see that too.

“Nevermind, I’m just gonna –“

“It was hard for me, too, Pete.” She said, suddenly. “I know you were a kid and you loved him like a father, but he was my husband. My life partner. It was hard for me, too.” Her eyes were shining when she looked at him briefly and his heart broke to pieces to see how devastated she was, but she looked away quickly.

“I never said it wasn’t, May –“

“But it wasn’t your fault. Never, in a million years, could anyone ever blame you. I just… I don’t know why you keep pushing me away. I know I’m not your blood like Ben was, but you’re still my nephew, no matter what. I raised you like a son.” She was crying openly now and Peter couldn’t even reach out to comfort her.

“I’m so sorry, May.” He covered his face with his hands, unwilling to look at her, unwilling to let her see the tears forming in his own eyes at her admission. “It’s not you, okay? It’s just – I need – I-I miss you, too.”

After Ben’s death, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bear to look at May. He couldn’t bear to be in the apartment. He figured they reminded him of Ben, of his parents, of better days, but it wasn’t just that. He was 16 when Ben died and it broke him, it took him back to that dark place he’d been in at 10, after his parents’ death. He couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t leave the house. He failed so many classes, by the time they were supposed to apply for colleges, he didn’t have many options and, weirdly enough, he didn’t really care. May was devastated, she cried for months. It was hard, looking at her.

But she didn’t deserve what he was doing to her, so he sucked it up and smiled.

“I promise I’m gonna visit more often, ok? Are you free on Sunday?”

~– * –~

It was Saturday night and Peter was just lounging on his bed, after a long shift at the restaurant, when his phone ringed. He didn’t recognize the number, but he figured it could be one of the guys he hooked up with in the past, and he was really bored, so.

“Hello?”

“Ah, so this really is your number.” Peter was a little surprised to hear that voice. After he left the hotel, a couple of weeks prior, Tony never called or texted, so he thought that was the end of their little adventure. He smiled to himself.

“Took you long enough to figure that out.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, kid, I meant to call earlier, but that whole world domination plan is still a thing, so I’m a little short on time. But I’ll be in New York next Thursday, any chance you could make some time for me then? Say, around nine?”

Peter bit his lower lip, considering. He enjoyed Tony’s company, he really did, the man was smart and funny, and he made Peter feel so fucking good when they fucked. He was also a great kisser, a very attentive lover and just generally a nice guy. The thing was, Peter couldn’t even remember the last time he had a third date with someone and, to be completely honest, he usually tried to avoid those, he didn’t want to send the wrong message. But Tony lived in California, anyway, and he only called when he was in town, looking for sex, so what was the harm in going?

“Sure, yeah. I can make that work.” He shrugged at the empty room.

“Sweet. Dress nice, I’m taking you somewhere fancy.”

“Oh, God, no, there’s no --” Peter rubbed at his face, already feeling anxious just to think about the sort of restaurants Tony usually went to.

“Hey, don’t even try, I’m gonna feed you before I fuck you, it’s common courtesy and I’m a gentleman. You just didn’t give me a chance before, you jumped me before I could even offer you a drink.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you complaining, what with your tongue so far down my throat.” Peter grinned and heard the other man chuckle.

“Happy will pick you up at nine, brat. Text me the address sometime this week.”

--

Peter was still a little tipsy from the fancy wine they had at dinner and the scotch they had later. Tony wasn’t kidding when he said it was a fancy restaurant, he felt weird and out of place at first, but the older man made everything seem so normal and natural, he still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that his brain seemed to stop functioning properly around him.

They ended up back in his hotel room, where they had the sloppiest, messiest, drunkest sex anyone had ever had and Peter was lying on his stomach with his eyes closed, slowly sobering up as the minutes ticked by. Tony was sitting with his back against the headboard, running his fingertips lightly across Peter’s shoulders, talking about his PA, Pepper Potts, and how he couldn’t run the company without her, because he was such a slacker. He was still drinking scotch and Peter honestly had no idea how he wasn’t completely trashed, even though he was clearly not sober either.

“You were really young when you took over the company, right?” Peter slurred, sleepily, as Tony’s fingers slid up the back of his neck and into his hair, massaging his scalp. The younger man closed his eyes, purring.

“Yeah, I was around twenty or something.” For the first time since they met, Tony’s voice was quiet, not booming with confidence or mirth, just quiet and soft.

“Because your parents died?” Peter whispered, eyes still closed, but Tony’s hand in his hair didn’t even falter, so he figured it wasn’t a touchy subject.

“Yeah.”

“How did you cope so well?” He opened his eyes and the older man was resting his head against the headboard, eyes closed, face relaxed and open, fingers still scratching his scalp. It took Peter by surprise how at ease he seemed to be around him, it made him blush and feel – what was he feeling?

“I didn’t, kid, I was all over the place. I got drunk every night, got high everyday. I fucked so many people it’s miracle I didn’t get some fucked up STD. My twenties are a fucking blur.” He turned to look at the younger man and he felt so small under his gaze.

“But you’re better now.” He whispered, trying hard not to break eye contact. The older man smiled.

“Yeah, this might come as a surprise to you, but it’s been a while since I was twenty.” Tony grinned and Peter raised his upper body, supporting his weight on his elbows. Tony slid his knuckles across his cheeks, and Peter’s eyes fluttered shut. “Did you lose your parents, too?” He asked, softly, and Peter thought about avoiding the question, but he was too drunk and too tired to be mysterious.

“Yeah, when I was ten. I-I was all over the place, too, and just when I thought I was getting better, I lost my uncle – and I. I couldn’t help him. He was like a father to me. I think it fucked me up for good, you know?” He winced while trying to smile, and the older man tried to smooth down the lines on his forehead with his fingers.

“Nah, it gets better. I promise.”

“That’s nice to hear.” He smiled, even though he didn’t believe him, and Tony could probably tell. “How come you never married?” Tony raised and eyebrow, amused, and Peter shrugged. “You’re hot, smart, rich. Like, people must throw themselves at you all the time. Are you a confirmed bachelor or something?”

“It just never happened. I guess when you have so many – attractive features, it’s difficult to tell who’s there for the right reasons.” He pinched Peter’s nose and the younger man scrunched up his face, making Tony laugh. “Why? Are you gonna propose? Got a ring hidden up this cute little butt? Let me check.” He playfully patted and squeezed Peter’s ass cheeks and he squealed, laughing hard.

“You wish!” He giggled when Tony started tickling his ribs, batting his hands away and turning over on the bed. “Stop!” The older man crawled on top of him, caging his head between him arms as Peter panted, trying to catch his breath. He didn’t have a chance to do so, because Tony started kissing him gently and deeply, slowly, and Peter melted into the bed. The man was such a good kisser, he could swear he must have taken a course somewhere or something like that. When he pulled away, Peter took a deep breath. “I have to go now.”

“You want to go now.” Tony corrected, but he was smiling. He rolled off of his body, not before leaving a peck on his lips. “Happy will be waiting for you out front. Drink lots of water, you don’t wanna have a hang over tomorrow.”

“You do realize you’re not really my dad, right?” Peter narrowed his eyes at the older man and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Oh, no, trust me, if I were, you wouldn’t be this bratty.”

–*--

Bored out of my mind

Tony’s text lighted up Peter’s phone screen and he smiled, shaking his head as he pocketed it to serve his tables. That was a thing, now, apparently. He and Tony texting. They had been doing it for a few weeks, ever since the older man left the last time. He was fine with that. They were friends, Tony made him laugh, and there was the added benefit of sex whenever he was in town, there was really no harm.

His phone vibrated in his pocket a few other times as he worked, he figure they were more texts from Tony, or maybe even from May or Ned. He had been trying to talk to them more often and, slowly, it stopped feeling weird and forced. Slowly, it started feeling good again.

Once his shift was over and he walked home, he took a quick shower and opened his texts. There two from Tony, one with a picture of his bored face and another one saying “entertain me”. There was a text from Ned letting him know that he planned to come home for Christmas and a missed call from May that he’d return later.

More importantly, there was a notification from Tinder. When he opened it, he saw that he was matched with a guy named Quentin Beck. He was 38, so not a lot older, but still. He looked gorgeous, with pale blue eyes and a lumberjack beard. It had been a while since he had gone out with anyone besides Tony – actually, when he thought about it, he hadn’t really talked to anyone new in a very long time.

So when the guy asked him if he wanted to meet that night, he went. He didn’t really want to go, even though the guy was gorgeous and apparently very nice, but he went anyway. They made small talk in the guy’s living room, but they soon moved to his bedroom. He was okay, not amazing, Peter had to get himself off or he wouldn’t come. It was whatever, he felt a little used, a little weird, but didn’t think much about it.

When he got home, he texted Tony a picture of himself making a silly face, along with a text: “I hope this is entertaining enough.” Not even two minutes later, he got a text with a picture of the older man with a hand over his heart, making a dramatic face. “I’m not entertained, I’m in love, but thanks for trying.”

Peter laughed alone in his room at Tony’s joke, shaking his head, and for some reason, his night got a little better.

–*--  

“I missed you so much, baby boy.” Tony whispered in his ear from behind and he shivered all over, clutching the wooden headboard as the older man slammed against him, chest touching his back, arms firmly wrapped around his waist. Fuck, he missed Tony, too, so much, even though they’d been talking every day for months, they hadn’t met in a long time, Peter was climbing the walls by the time the older man announced he’d be in town for the weekend. “Come for me, baby, come on.” He wrapped a hand around Peter’s cock and it took only two pumps to push him over the edge, as he moaned loudly, hole clenching around Tony’s dick as the older man came, too, grunting against his neck.

After a few seconds catching his breath, Tony pulled away, still holding Peter from behind, kissing his neck, his ears, and tickling his ribs. Peter giggled, trying to get away, but the older man wouldn’t let him.

“Tony, cut it out!” He squealed, and finally the older man let him go. Breathing hard and still giggling a bit, he stepped out of the bed and hurried to the bathroom to clean himself up. “I really have to go, I’m so, so late!” Peter couldn’t afford to give up his shift at the restaurant, money was really tight that month, so he and Tony managed to squeeze an hour between the end of the man’s meetings and the beginning of Peter’s shift, but he was already running late.

He went around the room putting on his clothes, and when he was finally ready, Tony got up from the bed to meet him at the door.

“You need a new jacket” He muttered against his lips as they shared a final kiss. They both looked down at Peter’s pitiful jacket, there were at least two visible holes on it, and Peter knew there was another one under his left arm that Tony couldn’t see.

“Tell that to my bank account.” He joked, watching a dissatisfied look take over Tony’s face.

“Let me buy you one.” He asked seriously, wrapping his arms around his waist, and Peter rolled his eyes.

“Tony –“

“Please. We’ve been seeing each other for what, five months now? I’ve never got you a gift, do you know how hard this is for me? I’m a billionaire, I like spending money on people, you’re killing me with this ‘no gifts policy’, kid.”

“You’re impossible.” He shook his head, smiling, and the older man looked hopeful, arms tightening around his waist.

“So, what do you say? I have the afternoon off tomorrow, I could take you shopping.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Peter raised one finger in front of his face.

“Not shopping. One jacket. One single jacket. I mean it.” He said gravely, only to see a grin spread across Tony’s face.  

--

“Gorgeous. Exquisite.” He adjusted the lapels of Peter’s new jacket, then his new scarf, which matched his new gloves perfectly. They had just stepped out of the store and Peter was still a little freaked out that there were no price tags on the clothes and Tony didn’t let him check the receipt. “And cute as a button.” He pecked his lips.

“You’re impossible!” He said as Tony clasped a hand on the back of his neck and guided him down the street, walking straight by Happy and his car. Peter frowned. “Aren’t we going back to the hotel?” They had met at the store after Tony’s meetings were over, so they hadn’t got a chance to be alone yet.

“How about some hot chocolate first?” He offered, walking them towards a coffee shop just down the street, and Peter shrugged, agreeing. Tony slid his arm across Peter’s shoulders and pulled him closer, and the younger man tucked himself under his arm contently, sighing at the warmth.

When they got to the coffee shop, Tony told him to take a seat while he ordered. He stared out the window as he waited, thinking that Christmas was just around the corner and how fast that year had gone by and how much had changed, specially over the last few months. He smiled to himself, feeling silly and happy, for the first time in a very long time.

“What is it, did someone fall on their butt?” Tony asked when he arrived with their drinks, looking out the window curiously. Peter chuckled, shaking his head, but didn’t offer anymore information. He eyed the mugs of hot chocolate filled to the brim with whipped-cream and his mouth watered.

Tony sat by his side on the booth and Peter took the beverage with both hands, trying to steal some of its warmth, and when he took the first sip, some of the whipped-cream smeared his nose and upper lip. He went cross-eyed trying to lick it clean, and heard Tony laughing out loud beside him.

“Oh, no, wait, wait!” He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and directed the camera at Peter. The young man made a bored face as Tony took the picture. “And that is my new wallpaper, thanks,” he beamed, turning to look at Peter again. “C’mere,” before the young man could react, Tony licked the tip of his nose clean.

“Tony!” There were tears in his eyes from how much he was laughing, even though he was punching the older man’s arm in protest.  

~-*-~

“I don’t want you to make a big deal out of this, ok?” Peter warned seriously and heard Ned agree eagerly. They had been talking more often over the last few months, just like he was trying to visit May at least once a weak. “I’m gonna start attending community college next year.” He bit his lower lip nervously, a little afraid of what Ned would think. May had cried tears of joy for hours when he told her, but he and Ned had once made plans to be roommates at MIT and he had graduated from CalTech last fall, so--

“Peter, holy fuck! Dude, I can’t – I’m so fucking happy for you! That’s what I’m talking about, you’re awesome, you’re gonna do great, and then –“

“Okay, calm down, like I said, let’s not make a big deal out of this, ok? It’s just something that I’m gonna try and it might not work, so chill.” He smiled to himself, a little relieved that Ned was happy for him, but what did he expect? He was the best friend Peter could hope for.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, no, sure. Of course. Super chill.” He was silent for just a few seconds, before he spoke excitedly again. “But I’m so happy, Pete. You’re – I’m glad to see you’re doing okay.”

“Speaking of seeing, are you coming home for Christmas? I miss you, dude, haven’t seen you in what, two years?”

“Yeah, I’ll come, and I have good news of my own! Are you sitting down?” Peter confirmed, amused. “Ok, remember I told you about Stark Industries new power plant and stuff?”

“Yes?” Peter blushed at the mention of the name Stark. Ned had no idea that he’d been banging his boss, so it was always weird when he talked about his job.

“It’s gonna operate in New York, they were putting together a team to transfer there, and guess who’s going?”

“Shut up!”

“Yeah! I’m going home, dude, for good! And best part is, I’m gonna work closely with Mr. Stark, I’m talking about same floor kinda deal, dude.” Peter froze.

“Wait, what? But I thought T – Mr. Stark lived in Malibu?” Surely Ned must be mistaken, Tony loved Malibu, he would never leave it for New York, that was stupid. He wasn’t coming.

“Yeah, dude, but he’s moving to New York next year, after they launch the power plant. He’s moving the headquarters of S.I. to New York.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Peter tried to take a deep breath, he just needed to rationalize this. They just couldn’t be together once he moved, that would be – they weren’t dating or anything, because Tony lived thousands of miles away, so if he came, it would be different, because they would be living in the same city, and just – really, they weren’t dating, Peter didn’t date, so they weren’t dating, so it was fine, he’d just call Tony and let him know that their arrangement was over, which was fine, he didn’t –

“Oh. Cool.” He remembered that Ned was still on the line.

“Yeah, tell me about it. I’m psyched!”

–

“Hey, Pete. Are you ok?” Tony answered on the second ring, sounding surprised and on alert. “You never call.”

“Sorry, did I disturb you? Can you talk?” He asked, nervously. There was a reason he never called Tony, he was a busy, important man, he had meetings to go and things to create and money to make, he couldn’t possibly have time for Peter.

“Yeah, sure, what’s up? Is something the matter? Are you in trouble? You sound nervous.” He could hear the concern in his voice and he bit his lips, feeling guilty. There was nothing Tony had to worry about, after all, it was silly, Peter was making a big deal out of nothing. It wasn’t like they were breaking up or anything, they weren’t even together to begin with, so. It was just a “no more sex” kind of talk. Nothing to be nervous about.  

“I’m fine, I’m okay, it’s – Are- are you moving to New York?”

“What? How do you know that?” He was surprised by the question, but didn’t seem mad, which was good, he didn’t want to get Ned in trouble over this.

“Just answer, please?” He pleaded quietly.

“Yes, I am. It was supposed to be a surprise, though, I was gonna tell you in person, after Christmas. What’s the matter?” Again, he sounded worried, and Peter bit his lips until he drew blood.

“It’s just… I… We – I don’t know, Tony, I’m. What is this to you – us? What are we…?” He didn’t know why the fuck he was going in that direction, he was just supposed to say they couldn’t fuck anymore.

“Uh, I don’t know? Does it matter? Do you wanna put a name on it? We can be boyfriends or whatever, but I think I’m a little old for that title, so maybe you could be my boyfriend and I can be your… manfriend? Significant other? We can figu–”

“Tony, stop joking around!” He gasped, shocked at the word boyfriend, what was Tony even talking about, Jesus, they weren’t – they never –

“I’m not joking around. I mean, I was joking about the manfriend thing, but otherwise I’m dead serious.” Fuck, no, this couldn’t be right, this couldn’t be true. Surely Tony wasn’t being serious, of course it was all a big joke, they weren’t dating, for fuck’s sake, they were fucking, that was it, nothing more, why was he talking about boyfriends, relationships – “Peter, you’re freaking out.”

“Of course I’m freaking out!” He squealed, taking himself by surprise by how high his own voice sounded.

“I knew this was gonna happen, that’s why I wanted to talk to you in person. Look, it’s no big deal.” Why the fuck was he so calm and collected?

“Tony, this is not – we’re not – this is casual! It’s – It’s just sex!” He reasoned, hearing a sigh coming from the other side.

“Honey, c’mon, you know that’s not true. I care about you, and I know you –“

“I’ve slept with other men while you were away.” He blurted out, because that was very important information, that was proof that they weren’t serious. He slept with Toomes and with Beck and if they were boyfriends he wouldn’t have done that, so, clearly, they weren’t boyfriends, what kind of boyfriend would do that? No kind. No kind of boyfriend would do that.

“O-kay.” He said slowly, clearly surprised by the confession. “Okay, that’s fine, we haven’t talked about exclusivity yet, so you did nothing wrong, there’s nothing to –“

“Tony! I’m – I’m worthless! I’m a slut, I’m poor, I’m – I’m just a waiter, I have no future, you can’t  be with me!” He was really freaking out there, he could barely breath, he was sweating like a pig, pacing his room, and Tony couldn’t seem to understand what he was saying, why couldn’t he understand what he was saying? Wasn’t the man supposed to be a genius?  

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, kid! First of all, take a deep breath, will you? Second of all, I’m a big boy, I can very well choose who I want to be with or not. And third of all, are you insane? You’re the smartest person I’ve talked to in years, you’re gorgeous, funny, kind and sweet, and of course I wanna be with you!”

“Well, I-I don’t wanna be with you,” He answered, voice wavering, but he was sure of it, of course he was sure.

“Peter, come on, you’re not thinking this through –“

“I can’t do this, Tony, I can’t. I’m not – I’m not boyfriend material, I’m – You’re – This isn’t gonna work.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down, he was doing the right thing, it was for the best.

“It’s been working for almost six months in case you haven’t noticed, Pete, what --”

“No, no! We’re not – Look, I’ve gotta go, just – Just leave it alone, ok?” He didn’t wait for an answer, he just hung up the phone and threw out of reach. There, done. Easy as pie.  

–*--

Christmas had come and gone and it was really nice. He and May had take out Thai food after they ruined their attempts of cooking Christmas dinner. It was kind of a tradition for them. They would try to cook, fuck up royally, then they’d order the least Christmassy thing they could think of. Ned visited for a couple of days, they hung out in his room building Legos and drinking beer, then he had to go back to Malibu, but he was supposed to move back in February, which was nice.

Everything was nice and okay, life hadn’t been this easy in a long time, so he had no idea why there was a Tony-shaped void in his heart, when he was so used to that place to being completely and shapelessly empty.

It was the first week of January when his bell rang, he thought it was the Chinese he ordered, but when he opened the door, soft brown eyes stared back at him.

“Tony, wh – what are you doing here?” He stuttered, clutching the door, and the older man looked so elegant and composed and calm, what was he even doing in such a terrible neighborhood, he didn’t belong there.  

“May I come in?” He asked calmly, and Peter wanted to say no, because he couldn’t look at him, he didn’t want to look at him. But he couldn’t say no, so he stepped aside and let the man in. He stood there, in the middle of his ridiculously tiny and messy living room, and Peter closed the door, leaning against it, as if he needed a quick escape route in case of emergencies. He turned to look at Peter. “Not very nice of you to break up over the phone, hang up on me and then block my number, kid.”

“I-I, I didn’t, I –“ Before he could think of an answer, the older man raised a hand, stopping him.

“It’s okay, I forgive you, I’m here now, sorry I couldn’t come earlier.” He stepped closer to Peter, who in turn tried to become one with the door the way he pressed his back against it.

“I-I didn’t ask you to come. In fact, you should leave,” He muttered, looking down at the floor, until he saw Tony’s expensive shoes stepping into his line of view, so close to his sock-clad feet, and he blushed when he noticed that his socks didn’t even match.  

“Here’s what I think, correct me if I get anything wrong. I think you’re lonely – and I think you like feeling lonely, because it’s safer. I think you’ve isolated yourself from the people you love, afraid you’d lose them one way or another, afraid that you’d have to go through that pain again, and you’ve been avoiding getting close to other people for way too long. And then I came in.” Tony placed a finger on his chin, lifting his head gently, and Peter hadn’t even noticed that his face was wet and he was sobbing quietly. He closed his eyes, he couldn’t bear to look at Tony’s face, afraid of what he might see there. “I know you, kid. I’ve been you.” Tony’s lips on his took him by surprise, but he didn’t flinch, he didn’t move away, he craved that touch, he wanted Tony to come closer, to hold him, to stay with him, just – “I love you. And I’m not going anywhere, you can’t push me away.”

“Tony.” He wrapped his arms around his neck, crying silently against his shoulder. There were so many words trapped in his mouth, but he couldn’t say them, he couldn’t.

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not leaving,” He whispered against his curls, holding him so tight, so close, that Peter believed him.

If you let me

Here’s what I’ll do

I’ll take care of you.

[fyrapartnersearch]

/// 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖉 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊'𝖘 𝖆 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖒 ///

Hello dear roleplayers.

For those who are curious, you may call me Imp.

I’ve been hit with a stroke of fate recently which pretty much drained me of my creativity. But I am slowly recovering… and I am looking for some distraction.


I am a lady in her twenties, with a strong penchant for roleplaying, writing, and drawing. The Holy Trinity if you will. I am a huge nerd and aesthetic lover boy - plain and simple. One of my main passions being video-games, illustrations, comics, live-action films, series and anime/cartoon shows, elements that shaped me during my years of growing up.


It’s been a while since I’ve posted my first ever ad on any website, and I was very much positively surprised by the amazing people that have reached out to me. I’ve been roleplaying for a few years now and gradually gathered a good amount of experience throughout the years, but it’s always fun to meet and learn something new.

I have a few original ideas that I’m very interested in trying out. The concept will be posted down below.




Name: Imp



Age: 27 years



Experience: 11 years



Preferences: 1:1 Roleplaying



Partner: Should be at least [18+], but I rather much prefer my counterpart to be 21 years or older

Timezone: Important to note! I am from Poland, so my timezone might differ from yours. 



EMAIL: impish.and.angelic@gmail.com

I am a very creative sort of individual with hundreds of ideas constantly running through my impish mind. And I am very spontaneous too, so I can always adjust to a new setting, depending on how good and compelling the concept is.

Inspirations come from various sources and origins, be it a fandom (an already existing universe) or an original storyline. 
 Please read through these paragraphs carefully before you decide to contact me! It’s important to avoid any misunderstanding later! And I would less likely respond to a message with the title ‘Hey, wanna rp?’, since I hadn’t had any good experiences with these said messages.  Thank you. 




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Communication: It’s certainly chill. You can talk to me about whatever occupies your mind since I am very open and always happy to listen to others. I also tend to be chatty, sharing a meme or a joke every now and to loosen up the mood. If you consider choosing me as your roleplaying partner, be sure to maintain a certain consistency. I have nothing against going on a longer break or even a hiatus, but the whole `ghosting stick´ is something I have no patience for. So if you’re unsure of upholding a stable, long term partnership, feel free to skim past this ad. 


 Plotting: Also very important to note! I am fairly quick when it comes to building new characters, concepts, premises, storylines, backstories, etc… This means there is certain flexibility available which allows me to adjust. Even though it is a hobby, I am still extremely passionate about good storytelling and interesting character arcs. I hope to meet someone who is just as enthusiastic and willing to put in the same amount of effort as I am. If it’s only me who’s pulling all the weight, I will lose interest fast, just to get it out there and I will have to end the correspondence. Had that recently and wasn’t a fan of it. Aside from that, I love going a little crazy with the possibilities and push things to their absolute limits. Of course within the boundaries of the given setting.


 Pairing & Romance: Okay, right off the bat, I am a hopeless romantic through and through. I enjoy good and strong chemistry between characters just as much as the next, and this will be no exception. I prefer the good ol’ MxF pairing because I have more experience with this. But I also like playing a FxF dynamic or MxM. Everyone is welcome! When it comes to pairing itself, I want to make sure our creations are compatible, for I hate forcing characters into a romantic relationship for the sake of progression. A natural flow is what I am aiming for. ;)


 Mature? Yes, very much so:  Adult and taboo topics are absolute. There’s no way around it because, if my world, it is a running theme. The adult world is not easy to handle, but it’s definitely interesting to explore. That includes violence, cursing, shocking content, and all that dark stuff. My limits are few, safe for a couple of minor pet peeves that I have, I am pretty much open to some experimentation. When it comes to action-heavy scenes (be it an intimate situation between two characters or something on a cataclysmic scale), I won’t fade to black since I am not a huge fan of censoring. However, I will not force or push my partner into something they are not comfortable with. If you want to know the extent to how far I am willing to go, what sort of content or how detailed my writing will be, you can ask me directly. As for smut or lemons, whatever you call it, it will never be the focus of any of my roleplays, but I enjoy a good erotic scene with a lot of tension (if they are good). 


Boundaries: Not a big fan of things like pedophilia, necrophilia, scat, bestiality, or those dreaded ‘futas’. 

Inspirations and interests: There’s a pretty broad spectrum of what I deem interesting and inspirational. From fallen angels and demon/monster hunters, mages, criminal masterminds, cybernetically enhanced characters to futuristic dystopian settings, ancient kingdoms who have fallen against the test of time. All of it causes my heart to skip a beat. For original content, I’ll just give a brief list of bullet points of the general themes that fall in line with my current interests. 


 Writing: My texts are lengthy, detailed, and elaborate. Third-person is usually my preferred way of playing my character unless there’s a special case where an exception can be made. Word count usually fluctuates, though I have a standard form of 400-500+ words per response. It also highly depends on the given situation. I don’t want to set anything in stone… just to give you a basic idea of what you’re in for. I also expect my partner to have an at least adequate, if not decent grasp on basic grammar and punctuation. 


 Doubling: Yes, absolutely! If you are prone to doubling, chances are I might accept you as my partner straight away! Although I have nothing against the simple form of roleplaying, doubling is something I’ve done since my first time joining. 


 Characters: Very character-driven with the main focus being on interaction. I take my time writing characters and love nothing more than well-structured sheets that illustrate the vision of their creator. (But!) There’s no need to write 10-20 pages worth of character information, but I wouldn’t want to limit you either. As for the depiction of the given character, I won’t be as presumptuous as to tell you what sort of medium you can and cannot use. Face claims such as photos of real models, illustrations, 3D models, drawings or descriptions are all okay. As long as it gets its point across, I am happy.


 Aversions: A few minor things that irritate me, or let’s say, aren’t really my style are one-liners, low effort responses and out of character behaviors in canon characters. We all have different takes on characters, which is totally fine by me since I basically do the same. Though if the character acts and behaves unlike their personality dictates, it will break the immersion. I hope to stay true to my own words when saying this. If it happens on my side, just let me know! Another pet peeve of mine is that one plot that has been done time and time again…. and I’ve grown quite jaded towards it, which is ‘supernaturals trying to fit into human society’ thing… I mean, I’m not opposed to borrowing from this idea, but for me, it grew old pretty fast. Speaking from experience.


 Il Passione: My wish is to find a partner whom I can have a good time with and develop some chemistry. After all it is a fun hobby. We both should have fun with what we’re writing. Brainstorming among other things is one of my favorite things to do. To see how things unfold and how the characters react to the given situation is the highlight of any story. °°°·.°·..·°¯°·._.· ☥ ·._.·°¯°·.·° .·°°° °°°·.°·..·°¯°·._.· ☥ ·._.·°¯°·.·° .·°°° 




FANDOM: 

I love roleplaying fandoms just as much as I have a blast with building something original universes. Worldbuilding is my preferred cup of tea… but if we opt for something more fandom inspired, I highly welcome in on expanding on the given universe and add some original lore too! The one marked with a * will be the ones I am craving the most.

Hellsing*: Haven’t done that one before and I am curious as to how things play out, especially in such a dark and mystifying universe like Hellsing. There’s a lot of subject matter that we can delve into, plus I am a big fan of powerful vampire characters!

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure*: I would love you for this. No, seriously, I would. This fandom has sucked me into a downward spiral and there’s no possible chance of escaping this inescapable void. The absolute insanity of this franchise had me hooked from the second I laid eyes on it and I would be forever ecstatic if you’d message me on behalf of roleplaying Jojo. I have plenty of ideas for this one, just you wait.

Full Metal Alchemist: One of my favorite mangas and animes ever made. Recently I’ve begun rewatching FMA Brotherhood and felt a small hint of nostalgia swelling inside my blackened heart. I’d be open to play it, though it is not one of my top cravings at the moment.

Justice League / Young Justice / Justice League Dark*: Huge DC fan, though I much prefer the animations and comics over the live-action cinematic. Let’s just say, I like the expansive and dynamic set of possibilities and deep, well-written cast. For instance Hellblazer Constantine or Raven.  

Bayonetta: Need I say more? Let’s dance boys!

APH Hetalia: That includes the 2P version ;)

The Boys: Well.. the 2nd season came out. And I am simply stoked.




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 My ideas for a plot are versatile in which I can give you if you ask for it (Usually the ones that aren’t listed here). It is however merely a suggestion for what we could write - not a mandatory thing. If you don’t like the idea, we can always figure stuff out and keep on home-brewing till we find something we both can enjoy. There’s no need to immediately end things if the first thing doesn’t really fire you up. The one marked with a * will be the ones I am craving the most.

I will cross the oceans of time just to find you*: So this is something that began to fascinate me more and more as time went on. Our characters existing in our current modern timeline are on the verge of a discovery that could shape the very foundation of history. After they accidentally stumble upon an artefact / edifice unrelated to any culture they’ve seen before, their presence unwittingly activates a mechanism that transports them not only to a different place, but an entirely different timeline. Upon awakening, they find themselves in a mysterious setting filled with archaic cultures, wildlife and mythological figures they believed only to be possible in fairytales. It is now up to them to navigate themselves in a time where uncertainty and superstition was rampant. Where their knowledge from the future could either prove themselves as an advantage or a fatal flaw. Every decision and word will count, forcing you to rethink and carefully plan out your actions. They also come to learn that some of these ancient myths were in fact true, and that monsters as well as godly beings did once exist. Following that trail, they will be faced with the truth as to how and why they were able to travel through time and space. But more importantly, it is where they will find their soulmates, and it isn’t where or when they think they’d be.

Supernatural*: From angels to demons, from gods to monsters, I’ve seen it all and I absolutely love it. There can be any sort of creature or being involved, ranging from vampires to sirens to elves, you have it. However, I’ve never done something quite relating to angelic beings and their offspring before. I’ve read up on Nephilim and angels and found it rather fascinating, and it’s a different approach from the usual vampire vs werewolf cliche. 


Crime and intrigue: I never stray too far from the supernatural path, but hell, there’s nothing better than some good old gritty mafia inspired stories with a complex cast of characters and a solid storyline.

Sci-fi and urban fantasy: So this could be basically anything from genetically engineered superhuman (superheroes / - villains) with a dark take on the human psyche, dismantling the idea of heroism and villainy. Or a world where mankind began their interstellar journey to colonize neighboring planets, galaxies before transcending their own humanity by merging themselves with deadly technology. I have a few plans for this…

Historical and mysterious setting*: So one of my favorite eras is the Victorian time period, 30s - 40s - 80s, Renaissance or Ancient times during the rise of the Egyptian / Roman / Sumerian Empire. During these times, a dark discovery was made by man, learning that they were not alone in this world. In fact, they weren’t even the supreme race that destined themselves to dominate the world, for another race of humanoids have lied dormant deep beneath the earth, slumbering through the millennia only to be re-awakened by a cataclysmic event. These ancient humanoids are gods among men, superior in every way imaginable, and they have made it their mission to reclaim their right to rule. But their nature is not what most people think it is…





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If you’re still here and haven’t fallen asleep reading through my loooong paragraphs, then I would like to thank you for bearing with me this far. I am looking forward to your messages. 




 Have a bright day!

[sylvieusedhyperbeam]

pokemon thoughts idk

DISCLAIMER: this is just an opinion, holy hell those are a thing on the internet steve

so this is just me having collected my thoughts, because uh, i took my own advice and waited for more information - or a response from GF - in regards to decisions made with Pokemon Sword and Shield. 

and quick disclaimer numero dos, i don’t doubt that there may very well be a select few people who are taking their outrage way, way, way too far by being toxic/bullying others/sending personal insults or death threats to GF employees on twitter.  i’ve watched fandoms from the sidelines long enough to see how crazy they can get, soooo yeah.  i.  do not.  condone.  this.  nope nope nope if you’re doing that shit please stop because that crosses a ton of lines that should not be crossed, and it’s not how you voice an opinion like a civilized human being.  be civil, be reasonable, don’t be a dick.  the end.

with that out of the way, on the flip side of that coin?  just... getting a bit sick of seeing people with calm and valid criticisms of game freak’s decisions being talked down to/talked over/shot down with screams of “TOXIC/CRYBABY/SO ENTITLED!!!!” because guys, a lot of the criticisms i’ve seen are actually perfectly valid.  like, seriously, stop. 

and no, i’m not speaking from perfect neutrality here.  because no, i don’t agree with the national dex decision.  i don’t.  because i personally think the reasons we’ve been given - as well as the generic/corporate PR non-response from masuda on the matter - are overall... they leave much to be desired, let’s put it that way. 

now, i’m not an expert on technical specs and limitations, admittedly.  but i just find it difficult to believe that a console like the Switch, that can run huge games such as Skyrim, Monster Hunter World, and Breath of the Wild (all games that are infinitely more complex when it comes to animation and storage), would have a hard time accommodating every pokemon. 

that’s a lot of pokemon, yes, i am aware, but given the simplicity of the overworld as well as the rather limited range of animations for each pokemon?  yeah, between a Pokemon game with every pokemon and Skyrim, my money says that Skyrim will still be the much bigger game.  by leagues.  that’s just my take on it for the ‘technical’ reasons we were given, idk.

and as for ‘balancing the meta’, lmfao.  no, i’m not saying Game Freak can’t suddenly care about balance, that’s not what i’m saying at all, game developers can change their approach to certain aspects of their games, no problem.  but uh, if balancing meta/competitive was their sole reasoning here, there’s a... very simple solution.

just... make and enforce... rules?

make a rule for VGC that only pokes in the galar pokedex can be used in competitive. 

there.  i balanced the gen 8 meta and i did it without cutting any pokemon.  that was easy, lmao.

with my personal skepticism out of the way, i guess i’ll say that i’m a sentimental dumb with personal reasons for my disappointment, too.

because i have pokes that have been with me for years (lmao it legit makes me laugh to think that some of my treasured pokes are actually older than some children in today’s age), and i’m a bit disappointed that i might not be able to bring them with me to the Galar region.  a really good friend of mine that i got back into contact with a while back?  after getting him Ultra Moon for a late birthday present, i decided to surprise him with a shiny Treecko i bred to be on his team, because i knew Sceptile was one of his all-time favorite pokemon.  he’s in the process of trying to ‘surprise’ me with a shiny (he won’t tell me which one so i can’t say for sure if it’s galar-dex, but still :IIII ) and just... these pokemon that we exchange as gifts to one another mean a lot to both of us, cheesy as that sounds. 

so i guess we’re mutually disappointed that we might not be able to bring these little gifts we’ve given each other into the Galar region, where our friendly rivalry would continue. 

and yeah, there’s a bit of salt to be had on my end that the kanto starters will likely be in the galar dex, while all the other past-gen starters have a decent chance of just getting shafted.  it DOES burn my biscuits, just a little, because if that turns out to be the case, then just...  wow.  more pandering to gen 1 after they literally just got a pair of Yellow remakes especially for them.  okay Game Freak, we get it, you hate everyone else.  lmfao.  guess i can sit back and just pray that my serperior will be transferable, but ‘eeeey not like anyone actually likes gen 5 mons, amirite.  n_n 

...my salt kinda derailed my thoughts a little, sorry.

anyway!  guys, some pokemon mean a lot to certain people, and that’s just the bottom line.  people are allowed to be upset that they can’t bring over pokemon with sentimental value to them, lmao for fuck’s sake.  maybe some of those pokemon were on their team while they were playing the game to get through a really difficult time, and that’s why those pokemon mean so much to them.  pokemon mean different things to people, and in fact that’s a huge part of what makes pokemon appealing!!  there are different pokemon to suit different tastes!!  you like big badass dragons, you got it, you like fluffy pink puffballs that use sparkles in battle, you got it, you like living flowers/keychains/machines, you got it, you like lizard or snake children, you got it, you like big fluffy doggos, you got it, you like cats, you got it, you like spoopy ghosts, you got it, the list goes on! 

when you cut into that variety that’s been such a big selling point of the series?  yeah, just...  i don’t know, i don’t see how this isn’t going to hurt Game Freak and, in turn, hurt a franchise that i’ve come to love for a very long time. 

i’m not voicing my opinions or disappointment here because i HATE Game Freak or because i’m determined to see nothing but the BAD things about Pokemon.  it’s just the opposite!  i really love these games and the vibrant, wonderful world they’ve created and how far they’ve come!  i love the memories and friends i’ve made with these games!  i want the games to be the best they can be, and sometimes... that means tough honesty over blind devotion.  and i just can’t pretend that i’m 100% behind Game Freak in everything they do. 

tl;dr, screaming “ENTITLED CRYBABY LOL Y’ALL GROWN ASS ADULTS THROWING A TANTRUM OVER A GAAAAAAME LULZ!!!” doesn’t make people who are upset or frustrated “””see the light”””.  it just makes you look like an asshole.  people are allowed to criticize these games and the decisions that have been made with them, especially if they voice their opinion in a reasonable, civil way that doesn’t harm or invoke harassment on anyone. 

and i’m.... pretty disappointed that there are big name pokemon content creators who have apparently been mocking their own audiences for being upset about this.  lmao wow, man.  yeah, how about no and let people speak their goddamn minds without fear of being ripped apart.

in b4 “but we’re allowed to be supportive of Game Freak and we’re allowed to enjoy these games despite all the naysayers!!!”

being respectful should go

for

both

sides. 

so yeah, just speaking my mind for a bit, here.  it’s okay to disagree with each other, mang.  and hell it’s perfectly 100% okay to disagree with me!!  you don’t have to share my disappointment with these decisions, it’s all good, man.  you do you and whatever makes you happy, i still wish you the best and hope you have a great day!!

but jesus, lmao just... some folks on BOTH SIDES need to have a little respect.

peace y’all, sylvie out

[mx-requests-forum]

[Fulfilled] At the Party

Prompt: kihyunXhyungwon childhood friends fic. Kihyun is the nerd akward guy and Hyungwon is the chic, beautiful(but super super nice) guy everyone has a crush on. Kihyun is also one of these people but hes too shy and insecure about his looks to actually do something about it(and because hes afraid of loosing his bff). That changes one day when they are at a party and play spin the bottle and kihyun has to kiss shownu. Jealous Hyungwon and then confession.

Fulfilled by Mod Ree~

Words: 6516, 4 chapters

AO3 Link

Done as part of the randomly generated request event we’re doing for New Year’s!!! I hope the requester enjoys what I came up with ^^* 

Kihyun takes a deep breath to steady his own racing heart, straightening his uniform jacket a bit as he beams from ear to ear at his own reflection. This is a good day for him. His face isn’t too puffy, he’s running just as early as he likes, and he’d had the energy the night before to pack a well-balanced lunch for himself… with just enough extra for a certain friend of his~

This is it. This is the day he’s going to confess. He can just feel it. Everything’s been too right this morning for him to not tell Hyungwon how he feels!

At least, that’s what he’s thinking until a certain boy from across the street pounds his fist against Kihyun’s window.

The brunet boy jumps, whirling about with a glare set behind his thick-framed rectangle glasses. Minhyuk’s smirking at him, waggling his fingers teasingly. Kihyun rolls his eyes, his glare expression shifting to a scowl, as he goes to open his window. His mattress dips under his knees as he kneels in front of the glass, unlocking it and shoving it upward with a grunt.

“Mornin,” Minhyuk greets, setting his large hands against the pane as if he’s planning to jump in. Kihyun clicks his tongue, shoving his friend back outside.

“Last time you came in through the window,” Kihyun explains at Minhyuk’s hurt frown, “you tracked dirt in all over my bedroom. I just cleaned yesterday, and I don’t want you making a mess of it again. If you want to come in, do it through the front door like a normal person.”

Minhyuk sighs dramatically, slumping forward and resting his torso against the pane, instead, half his body now in Kihyun’s room and half of it out.

“You’re so meeeeaaaaannn,” the light-haired boy whines in response. “What did I do to ever earn such treatment??” Kihyun shrugs, disembarking from his perch to check his hair one final time in the mirror.

“Just made a mess of everything you touch,” Kihyun answers mercilessly. Minhyuk only sighs again in reply, watching his same-age friend as he picks up a stray strand here or there with precise fingers. He frowns, leaning further into the room as he squints his eyes.

“Is that… gel in your hair??” he suddenly demands, outright gawking at the shorter boy. The tips of Kihyun’s ears go red, and he awkwardly clears his throat as he purposely avoids Minhyuk’s eyes.

“N-No,” he answers, sheepish at his own obvious lie. Minhyuk hums, wholly unconvinced. He glances behind himself, at the house just beside Kihyun’s… that just so happens to belong to Hyungwon himself.

“You gonna confess to our little Wonnie today~?”

“Confess what? Honestly, Min, you just talk in riddles sometimes,�� Kihyun says, waving off his friend’s words. He keeps his back to the other, though, as he gathers the things still out on his desk in need of being put into his school bag.

“Whatever,” Minhyuk says flippantly, and Kihyun can practically hear the shrug the boy gives. “I’m just glad you’re finally doing it… I mean, I know it must be intimidating and all because of how popular he is, but still. It’s about time you told Hyungwon how you feel.” He pauses, watching for the effect his sincere words have on his friend. Though, when he sees Kihyun’s shoulders hike up tensely at the word ‘intimidating’, he can’t help but smirk knowingly at the chance to tease.

“After all, Hyungwon is the most popular boy at school, even if he is younger than us… He’s so pretty and thin, and you’re… well, you’re pretty good in choir? You two are just in totally different parts of the cliques at school. You’re the nice kid in the back who everyone gets to do their algebra homework, and Hyungwon’s the one in at least half the yearbook every year, and about fifty Valentine’s. He’s totally out of your league, and you still have the guts to confess? That’s impressive from where I’m sitting.”

Minhyuk props his chin in his palm, watching for an indignant reaction with a wicked twinkle in his eye. He thinks for a moment he’s gone too far, due to Kihyun’s prolonged state of apparent paralysis… But, then, Kihyun turns around, a strained smile to his face and an uneasy chuckle pushing through it.

“You get the weirdest ideas sometimes,” Kihyun tells him, apparently still in denial. “I mean, I care about Wonnie, yeah, but… not like that. He’s a good friend, and that’s it.” Minhyuk’s brow creases, staring scrutinizingly for a sign of a lie. After all, he knows he’s not wrong about Kihyun having feelings for their dongsaeng… but, is it possible Kihyun still hasn’t realized it…? He’d been sure at the last game of Truth or Dare that… well, nevermind.

If Kihyun wants to play it like this, then fine.

Minhyuk shrugs, as if Kihyun’s lack of a reaction doesn’t truly bother him despite the truth, and tells him he’ll meet him in front of the house in ten minutes. Kihyun nods, moving to shut the window after he’s gone and close the curtains.

Kihyun collapses on the bed once he’s sure Minhyuk’s gone, burying his face in his hands… He releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, the exhale shaking his shoulders slightly. He knows he’s always been a good liar, but damn. He’s never been able to trick Minhyuk before…

Minhyuk’s words circle round and round Kihyun’s head like vultures, picking at all the doubts his own optimism had managed to somehow bury until the other boy had somehow picked at every one and brought them to the surface. He’s right, of course. Despite their close friendship over the years, Hyungwon and Kihyun have grown to run in completely different circles. Hyungwon’s accepted with the cool kids at school, smiling his way through everything, and Kihyun’s just the choir geek in the back of the room with all the assignments done at least two weeks in advance.

The boy sighs, shaking his head as all possible hopes of a positive outcome to his plan this morning are squandered. They’re too different. It’d only ruin the friendship he has with Hyungwon if he confesses now…

He gets up, shaking Minhyuk’s voice out of his ears as he goes to get his bag and leave. He’ll never in his life tell Minhyuk he was right, but… what the other doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Hyungwon steps out of his home, clutching the strap of his bag and draping it listlessly over his shoulder. He turns and sees Minhyuk already waiting for him at the usual meet-up, the lamp post smack dab in between his and Kihyun’s homes. He raises his hand in a silent greeting as he approaches, blinking slowly as he shuffles forward.

He’s only been awake for a few minutes, and he hasn’t quite gotten his bearings yet. Minhyuk nods at him, leaning against the pole and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Kihyunnie didn’t let you in through the window again?” Hyungwon asks, successfully keeping the relief from his voice. He always hates it whenever Minhyuk gets to just sneak into Kihyun’s room like that, right under his nose. Of course, he understands it, knows how close they are, but that still doesn’t mean he has to like it. Minhyuk shakes his head, pouting as he stares at Kihyun’s front door.

“No,” he replies with a sigh. “I tried, but Ki just bitched at me for making a mess the last time, so he didn’t let me…” He drifts off, glancing to Hyungwon with a raised brow, the slightest of smirks playing across his thin lips. “He seemed to really be putting an effort into his looks today… He might be planning on making a move on someone special today. Can you think of who that could be?”

Hyungwon doesn’t give Minhyuk the reaction he’s so clearly looking for, only offering a halfhearted shrug despite how his heart does somersaults in his chest. The platinum blonde tries not to think that maybe, just maybe, it’s him the older is wanting to confess to…

Before he can get lost in the hypothetical, Kihyun steps out of his home, his hair styled back to show off his widow’s peak, and his uniform perfectly put on without a single crease. Hyungwon glances down at his own haphazardly put-on uniform, his shirt not tucked in at all and his tie only half tied.

Kihyun looks as perfect as always, and Hyungwon…? Well, he’s just Hyungwon.

“Good morning,” Kihyun greets, sounding as chipper as ever… even if it sounds somewhat forced. He pauses once he gets close enough to the other two, readjusting his bag slightly for better comfort. Hyungwon tilts his head to the side at how strained Kihyun’s smile seems.

“You okay?” he asks softly, shifting closer to get a better look at his friend. Kihyun blinks, his smile faltering for the most minute of seconds before he pushes an amused breath through his teeth.

“Of course I am,” he says, already reaching out to fix Hyungwon’s tie, “but you don’t seem to be. Honestly, Wonnie, you need to start going to sleep earlier to wake up earlier. You can’t keep leaving the house like this.” Hyungwon watches skeptically as Kihyun dives into his typical behaviors, it almost seeming a bit too purposeful to the younger.

“Yeah well… maybe that’ll happen when you stop nagging me about it,” he responds, deciding to play along. He can tell he’s made the right choice when Kihyun’s shoulders noticeably drop, as if he’s finally relaxing. “Ever thought about that?”

“Well, then I guess it’ll never happen,” Kihyun says, his voice oddly soft as he finishes straightening up Hyungwon’s tie. Their eyes meet for the briefest of moments before he drops the gaze, a tempest of emotions swirling behind his dimming eyes.

Hyungwon gets the urge to pull Kihyun aside, tell him how he feels right then and there… Maybe this strange behavior is because Minhyuk is right, because Kihyun is planning to confess to someone today? If so, Hyungwon most certainly can’t have that. He can’t allow Kihyun to go running off and getting together with basically everyone under the sun before they end up together, he just won’t have it.

He begins to slowly reach out and grab Kihyun by the elbow, but Minhyuk’s voice stops him.

“Should I leave you two alone~?” Minhyuk asks teasingly. “You know, to talk~?” Hyungwon glances between the two boys curiously, wondering what Minhyuk must be talking about now. Kihyun rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Just drop it, Min,” Kihyun tells him, stepping back a couple paces from Hyungwon. The younger feels the gap between them as if it were a whole other person, feeling strangely cold. Of course, that’s nothing compared to the chilling iceberg his heart becomes at Kihyun’s next phrase. “It’s not like that between me and him, we’re just friends.”

Him. Whose… ‘him’? Who is this other boy whose stolen Hyungwon’s Kihyunnie away from him???

“Should we go?” Hyungwon prompts, turning on his heel and marching off before either can respond. He glares down at the cement as he walks, chewing on the tip of his thumb thoughtfully. He has to figure out who this other boy is, and fast. He has to save Kihyun from making the biggest mistake of his life by confessing to the wrong boy.

He has to show Kihyun how right they are for each other before it’s too late.

[holtbaest]

lmaoooo but tom wilson is a goon, hes a dirty player and nothing about him says "power forward"or whatever the fuck you were talking about. tom wilson sucks and its time you and the rest of the girls on here who are in love with him just because you think hes "hot" need to realize that

ok LISTEN. first of all, keep your tom wilson hate out of my inbox. let’s just get that out of the way right now. alright, moving on.

clearly you have no idea what a power forward is, because you said, and I quote, “whatever the fuck you were talking about”, so let’s review that first. according to wikipedia, a power forward is “a forward who is big and strong, equally capable of playing physically or scoring goals and would most likely have high totals in both points and penalties.” wikipedia ALSO mentions that power forwards are also often referred to as the ‘complete’ hockey player.“ (source) wikipedia not a good enough source? ok, let’s look at a bleacher report article, where the author defines power forward as “a big guy who puts up points and likes to throw his weight around.” (source) let’s throw in another definition, just for good measure…oh, how about one from former NHL head coach Barry Melrose: “There is a certain criteria a player has to fulfill to meet my definition of a great power forward. He has to be a frontline player, he has to be very physical and he has to fight. A power forward to me is not just a big guy who scores goals. He is a big, mean, nasty, physical, tough guy to play against as well as being a very good hockey player.” specifically, they “have a lot of penalty minutes, they have a lot of goals, but they [are] also the type of guy the other team didn’t like to play against.” (source) so, to put it neatly, the main components of a power forward in the NHL are:

1. high point production2. physicality3. lots of PIM

now that we’re all clear on the definition of a power forward, let’s move into what we all came here to talk about, tom wilson. let’s look at his stats from the past 3 years and compare them.

(source) (these stats haven’t been updated after tonight’s game, so his GP is at 66 and he tallied another assist tonight which brings him to 20 on the season and 100 career points)

even just looking at his goals, assists, and point totals you can see the offensive improvement. PLUS the 15-16 and 16-17 stats are for a full 82-game season, but he’s only played 66 games so far this year. he’s ALREADY surpassed all 3 of those stats. additionally, look at the MASSIVE increase in shooting percentage he’s had this season! he went from 7.4% last year to 11.1% this year. that’s a team-wide top-10 stat.

speaking of team-wide stats, let’s check on a few other stats and see where he falls this season (team stats accurate prior to tonight’s game):average TOI: 10th (15:50)points: 7th (30)+/-: 6th (+7)

another interesting stat to look at is point shares, or an estimate of the number of points contributed by a player. his PS for this season is 2.8, ranked 12th on the team! and then we have OPS (points contributed by a player due to his offense) and DPS (points contributed by a player due to his defense). wilson’s OPS is 1.3 and his DPS is 1.4, ranked 10th and 8th on the team respectively. those are great stats!

(team stats source)

still not convinced on his offensive production? let’s look at an article RMNB published titled “Tom Wilson is the new bacon bits” (source) where they discussed Wilson’s top-line production. I could re-type the important points but I think a screenshot will suffice, no? here are some fun stats on how wilson has improved the two lines he’s skated with the most this season:

but point production and good offense isn’t the only marker of a power forward, right? I know what you must be saying right about now: “but what about his penalties?! he’s such a dirty player! he spends so much time in the box!!” yeah. yeah he does. but remember the second and third points we listed at the beginning? physicality and lots of PIM. wilson is currently ranked 2nd in the league in PIM with 166 on the season (source). he is ranked 8th in the league in hits with 207 (source). so yeah. but I would like to point something out about his penalties. some of the calls against him are due to what I like to call the “Skating While Tom Wilson Effect”. wilson gets called on some things that other players don’t because of his reputation. and whose fault is that, you may ask? yeah, it’s his. because in prior seasons, he was more of a goon. but this season I think he’s trying to distance himself from that label and grow into the player we thought and hoped he would be when he was drafted. he doesn’t take nearly as many boneheaded penalties as he used to. and I am by no means trying to excuse every time he gets sent to the sin bin, because sometimes he does something stupid or blatant and you’re like “oh that’s definitely 2 minutes.” but tom wilson is by NO means the only player to whom that applies. you’re telling me that your fave player has never done something stupid to get sent to the box? I don’t think so.

I would ALSO like to add something that not a lot of people (especially people who share your opinions, anon) talk about, and that is the fact that while tom wilson spends a lot of time in the box, he also draws a lot of penalties. wilson has drawn 30 penalties this season, which not only leads the team, but is also tied for 7th in the league so far. so yes, he spends a lot of time in the box, but he offsets it by drawing on average .462 penalties a game. (source)

bottom line, tom wilson has been playing top-6 minutes this season and he deserves it.

ok so. we’ve talked about tom wilson a lot. now I would like to talk about something else. don’t you DARE insinuate that I, or any of my friends, only like players because of how they look, or that we don’t know what we’re talking about, or that we are lesser fans than you. I am so fucking tired of being looked down on as a female sports fan. we do not have to prove ourselves to anyone, we do not have to show you how much we know, because, quite frankly, we don’t owe you shit.

also, SO FUCKING WHAT if people like to look at players because they think they’re pretty? you think male sports fans have never looked at, oh I don’t know, women’s beach volleyball players and gone “oh yeah, she’s hot”? you can bet your fucking sexist ass they have. so, with no due respect, shut the fuck up.

don’t you fucking dare come at me with this sexist shit again. I am so over it.

[grs-the-neighborhood]

@shorty-tori owned this character

Edward “The Changer” Logan

  Age: 15

  Gender: Male

  Sexuality: Demi-sexual

  Birthday (Zodiac): July 15; Cancer

  Species: ½ Metahuman, ¼ Azarathian, ¼ Demon

  Alignment: Vanguard League (formerly)         Position: Tech. Department (formerly)

  Powers/Abilities:

                Martial Arts Training

                Matter Manipulation

                Telekinesis

                Thought projection

  Relatives: Garfield Mark Logan/Beast Boy (Father),Rachel Ross/Raven (mother), Trigon (grandfather), Sarina (half maternal sister)

  Background: (WIP)

                Being the son of Garfield Logan and Raven, two members of the famous “Teen Titans,” he is never able to forget it. Because he is the offspring of two superheroes and has inherited some of his parents’ abilities he is expected to be a superhero as well. Sometimes he feels like that’s the least thing he wants to do, and not because he is a bad person but because most of the time he just wants to relax and enjoy some video gaming and a nice cup of herbal tea. If it wasn’t for a certain “annoying teenage girl”, then he wouldn’t have joined the Vanguard League.         Logan was born to two of the legendary members of the Teen Titans; Logan Garfield and Rachel Roth, aka Beast Boy and Raven. Ever since he was born people always pushed their ideas on him that it was his.

However, his life turn upside down when he transportated in another universe (because his was destroyed and wipe out of existance), where it is the same, except he does not exist.

  Personality:

    He is calm like his mother; and even though his abilities are not the same as hers (for as far as they know), there have been times where his emotions have caused objects in the household to go everywhere when he gets extremely angry. Since then he tries to remain calm as much as possible.

    Though just because he is calm doesn’t make him boring. He likes playing video games like his father, always happy when he gets a new game or beats his high scores. If someone were to ask him he would say he is a gaming pro, and that no one is as good as him—wonder where that ego comes from. Also, he likes to be a mischief maker. He enjoys being sarcastic, tricking people, and pulling playful jokes that “hopefully” don’t cause any internal damage to anyone.

    Because of his calm and slightly emotionless demeanor, people have thought of him as a cold person. And due to this he barely got any friends as he grew up, that is until he joined the Vanguard League and was able to meet other people like him.

                  Appearance: The only thing he inherited from his parents were his father’s ears and his green eyes.  His hair is a mixed color of his mother and father’s hair and is spiky. He is short in size, like his father was when he was his age, about 5’ 2” and has muscular arms and legs (thanks to his martial arts training). He always wears his red hoodie when he is out of his house along with his matching red high-top converse shoes. During any time he likes wearing fingerless gloves--has different colors for different outfits--and he likes wearing the belts like his father used to. Tries to hide a birthmark in the shape of a snake on his upper left thigh.

  Relationships: (WIP)             Edward has a good relationship with both of his parents. Because he is a combination of the two, he has always been in the middle of them when they argue—which isn’t hard to believe is about all the time. Though even though his parents argued a lot during his childhood, he doesn’t think he has that it was awful because he could always tell that his parents loved each other.

                      Cyborg and Beast Boy are best friends, and that continued into adulthood when they became parents. And when two men have children around the same age the one thing they believe would be the "coolest thing in the world" is to have their kids become best friends as well! They were successful, however the two of them can get into arguments at times. Danielle likes to fiddle with his game consoles, phones, and tablets and when she does he usually turns something of hers into a plastic elephant (no real reason for them being elephants, he just does it because it makes her mad).         Even after the original Teen Titans grew up and went on their own roads of being heroes, Cyborg and Beast Boy remained best friends. When they reached the point in their lives when they planned on having kids they                       There are a few people that Edward looks up to, and one of them happens to be Vanguard League's very own Micah Jojo. Being with Micah makes him feel like he is at home relaxing. Just being with someone so chill and relaxed makes him feel the same way. Whenever the two of them play games together the room can turn into a war zone with how competitive the two can be, and one of them ends up extremely butt hurt after they lose but they always make up because it was only just a game.          It isn't a secret that the Vanguard League is made up of a lot of members that are highly energetic

Trivia:

     ·        His favorite color is red, and he hates wearing purple and violet

    ·         Favorite game is game is “Roles of Responsibility” (can someone guess the real game?)

    ·         He likes animals, however has never wanted a pet—his dad can transform into literally any animal and pets are too much work

    ·         His favorite drink is herbal tea with one spoon of sugar and some honey

Quotes:

--

                Walking around the Vanguard League base, not having anything better to do Edward decides to play on his hand console game. Not looking where he was going he accidentally bumped into someone and dropped his game, luckily it didn’t break.

                “Oh sorry, here you go,” a soothing male voice spoke as a boy kneeled and picked up the hand-held video game device. The guy who spoke had brown and blonde hair and was wearing a blue and white varsity jacket.

                As the guy stood up and held out the device Edward immediately knew who he was. Wide eyed he just gawked at the popular video gamer. “Y-y-you’re you’re dr0pTHEmicah,” he took back his game, “man you’re one of my gaming idols! We should totally hang out sometime!”

--

  Edward’s Story: Pick a Side!

                  Today seemed like a good day; his parents hadn’t fought all day, he broke the high score on his favorite video game, and he was finally about to have a drink of nice herbal tea. It was almost perfect…then Danielle had to come in and ruin it for him.

                “Edward, just what are ya doin’?” she yelled as she got in his personal space, “I thought you were going to meet me at my place, so I could take you to check out the Vanguard League!” Even though the force of her screams almost blew him over, he calmly took a sip of his tea.

                Being used to yelling and upset women, Edward knew the best thing to do was to remain calm—especially with this one. “Sorry Danielle, I must have forgot. You know if you want to make plans with me you have to make sure I put it on my calendar,” the older teen just glared at him, “and when did I agree to check out the Vanguard League?”

                “Oh, just shut up and get ready. You know you’re not getting out of this no matter what you do,” she pulled him from the chair he was sitting on and pushed him towards his room. “You have such cool abilities, your parents are superheroes, and you’re a good kid—you need to be in the Vanguard League! They could use a guy like you.”

                Slowly he walked to his room, not wanting to get ready to leave the house. “Come on Danie! Can we please not do this today, I was about to read a book and invite some friends over to play some games!” He sluggishly tried to whine his way out of the situation, but it didn’t matter because one; his voice never moved an octave, and two; Danielle was used to his protesting.

                “What friends?” she snorted and continued pushing.

                “Touché,” was his only response and as they approached his bedroom door he turned the knob and they entered his room. “Do I have to wear anything special, or can I pick out my own clothes?” He opened his closet and looked through his clothes.

                Danielle sat down on his swivel chair for his desk and started to tinker around with his tablet. “Nah, it doesn’t matter, just chose whatever you want. I’m just here to make sure you actually get dressed.”

                Quickly the tablet was pulled out of her hands and onto his bed, “I know you like tech,” he pulled off his shirt and using his telekinesis he moved it to his dirty laundry hamper, “but please reframe from playing with my stuff,” he pulled on his signature red hoodie, “I happen to like my tablet just the way it is.”

                She quietly pouted and spun around in the chair, and when he was done changing she jumped out of it and once again began dragging him, “finally we can leave! I thought you were going to take forever!”

                “If only I could take forever, then I wouldn’t have to deal with this,” he grumbled under his breath.

                Before they could make their way out of the door they are stopped by a black raven. “Just where do you two think you’re going?” a woman’s voice caught their attention; that woman being Raven—yes, THE Raven from the Teen Titans.

                “Hey Auntie Raven, I was just taking little Edward here to check out the Vanguard League! I hope you don’t mind,” Danielle was so excited that she didn’t notice the slight change in Raven’s expression, but Edward did.

                The raven was removed from their way and she gave the two teens a nod, “alright, just don’t get too out of control.”

                Before the older teen could drag him far from the front door he quickly pulled away and crept back and opened the door open ajar. Not far he could hear his parents talking.

                “Hey Rae, what’s wrong?” he heard his father ask.

                For a moment his mother said nothing, then slowly she spoke, “I am just afraid…afraid of the same thing I was when I was pregnant with him. What if he has something evil inside of him like I do? And someone tries to take advantage of him, or use him?” It was rare that he heard his mother worry or become sad, but as she spoke that was all he could hear in her voice.

                Garfield chuckled, “Our son is a lot like his mother—one of the best and good-hearted people in this universe!” Raven laughed, and a sound of a kiss could be heard coming from inside the house.

                Even though he had been hesitant from joining any super powered groups, he knew now what the right decision was to make; after all he was indeed a good-hearted person, even if other people think he’s cold and emotionless.

                 Slowly closing the door and walking back to a confused Danielle Edward could help but smile. “Alright Danie, you win. I’m going to join the Vanguard.”

                Without even questioning his decision she tackled him in a hug, “awh ya man, boo-yah!” 

p> @shorty-tori​ created this character, but @froppy-butterflyfan2000 post it.

[marybeatriceofmodena]

Solo: a Star Wars Story - A Review (which I managed to keep short at least when it comes to my standards *puts gold sticker on self*)

So I saw Solo yesterday, and I’ll be putting my detailed/spoilery thoughts under the cut.

As for a general overview while trying to spoil as little as possible… I definitely liked the movie. To compare it to another anthology movie, I didn’t like it as much as Rogue One, but it was very enjoyable: basically Western meets film noir meets sci-fi, and the combo worked pretty well.

I have to admit, before the marketing for the film started, I was very meh about it. I didn’t hate it in advance like some people did, but I was pretty much planning to see it just because Lawrence Kasdan was the screenwriter, Donald Glover was Lando and I honestly couldn’t have thought of a better casting choice, and Thandie Newton aka my dreamcast for Selina Kyle/Catwoman was in it.

I did start getting a bit more optimistic as time went on. And since I’m a creature of dust and ashes and, most especially, salt, I wanted Alden Ehrenreich to succeed as Han partly because of the fandom being all “HE’S NOT HARRISON”, and also partly because if he hadn’t told the big bosses the original directors wanted Han to be space Ace Ventura, this movie would have been a mess.

And… despite all the complications, they actually did it. And unlike Justice League, I didn’t really see big contrasts indicating there had been two different visions working on the movie.

So it honestly makes me sad that the movie is underperforming because it's a genuinely well-made, multi-layered heist film. I don't think it's the film itself's fault: Lucasfilm/Disney had some pretty terrible timing and promo for the film overall, and they REALLY should have pushed it back to December.

Everyone in the cast was very good, well-cast: Alden did a terrific job playing Han and while I didn’t think he looked a lot like Harrison Ford at first, I can see the resemblance now; Donald Glover was perfection as Lando, and Emilia Clarke and Qi’ra turned out to be pleasant surprises and I enjoyed them a lot more than I expected to.

For some reason… the overall storyline and how it drew out kind of reminded me of a video game. I’m not sure why, though. That’s not to say it was badly done, but it could simply be that I became used to how quickly paced TFA and R1 were, or how TLJ was either jarringly edited at first viewing, and how certain elements were rushed and others dragging for too long. Solo didn’t have any pacing issues… though I might change my mind after repeat viewings.

There were a lot of things I was a bit afraid of before the film came out that thankfully did not bother me too much, but I did read spoilers before going in. I kept myself spoiler-free to a certain extent for TLJ and I kind of regret it, so I decided not to take any chances. (SO YOU CAN BE SURE AS HELL I’LL DO IT FOR IX.) So I was prepared going in, so there’s nothing I saw that upset me.

Shout-out to the soundtrack. It was GREAT.

Anyway, the spoilery part is under the cut. Read at your own risk.

Alden was really a pleasant surprise. You can really forget he’s not Harrison and even if Han is a lot more optimistic and cheerful than the cynical scoundrel we meet in ANH, he’s still the dumbass Han who brags a lot even if he’s a dumbass and who tries to talk his way out of shit and fails because he’s a dumbass. He's not the cynical scoundrel we meet in ANH *yet*, but it made sense for me for him not to be like that right now. He's basically a dumbass puppy dog like his son. No wonder Qi'ra is so protective of him.

Donald Glover as Lando was a scene-stealer. I even wish we saw more of him, or scenes of him with Han, because they had some pretty good frenemy chemistry. 

Han and Chewie were probably one of the best parts of the movie, and even my favorite relationship out of all. Their encounter was very well-done, and they totally sold how they’d do anything for each other.

Qi’ra… I could honestly write an entire post about her alone, and I probably will, because she was hands down the most intriguing character in the movie. And it’s nice to see Emilia Clarke show off her acting chops and see her in other stuff than Boobs, Dragons, Death. Though, I will say, my point of view on Qi’ra will probably be different from the point of view I’ve seen from other people, but yeah.

As a sidenote, I definitely saw the parallels between Ben and Rey, and Qi’ra and Han. As a lot of people pointed out, Han and Qi’ra in the elevator and then confronting Dryden Vos was basically “Throne Room, take two”. This said, I can definitely see how Qi’ra and Ben are similar, and how Han and Rey are similar, but I did spot some similarities between Qi’ra and Rey, and between Han and Ben. I’ll probably expand it in another post, once I get down to writing it, but one thing Qi’ra and Rey have in common is how they smile even in the most dismal situations and in order to hide their vulnerability – even if their reasons for smiling are very different. Qi’ra is a Stepford Smiler to survive, and because she knows how ugly the world can be, while Rey is not only a lot more sheltered than Qi’ra (even if her life was by no means easy), but she puts on a happy face because she’s in denial about her parents, and probably because she so desperately wants to be accepted and loved. So long story short, Qi’ra is basically how Rey would have been if she had gone through what Ben went through. So that really brings a whole new perspective to how Han views Rey in TFA: I think he sees his youthful optimism in her, but he’s also fully aware what could happen to her if she went back on Jakku, because of what happened to Qi’ra. But again, I’m preparing a full-blown analysis of Qi’ra. Stay tuned.

I legit cried when she told Han she thought of him and the two of them flying away whenever it was hard for her. I’m still getting kind of teary-eyed thinking about it. 

 Okay, last thing about Qi’ra: I wouldn’t say she becomes a crime boss because she craves power or because she’s scared and has some sort of Stockholm Syndrome or whatever. I’d actually argue she chose love over power, and she’s ultimately a tragic case of “to love is to let go”. So yeah, it’s a lot more complicated than it seems, and it’s all about her being pretty much Han’s dark guardian angel of sorts. But again, I’ll expand on it in another post.

Tobias Beckett was great. A total asshole, but you still get attached to him even if you want to kick him in the balls.

I really liked Val and Rio, and it’s a waste they died so early. You could totally buy Val and Beckett as the old-married couple who bicker all the time. They managed to make their deaths emotional—and special shout-out to Rio’s death. Nice bit of foreshadowing when he dies saying that dying alone is the worst thing (now please excuse me while I roll in a ball in a corner and cry, thinking of how Han died nearly 40 years later).

I know L3 annoyed a lot of people. She didn’t annoy me too much, mainly because I just decided to not take her seriously and to see her “droid rights activism” as a joke. I mean, just looking at how Lando takes it, every time she makes a comment about it or does something about it, he’s all “Oh God not this again”. As some people have pointed out before me, she’s basically a robot version of Lisa Simpson. Her dying didn’t move me as much as Val or Rio, though.

Also, the TLJ novelization mentions a virtual intelligence of sorts in the Falcon that has a pretty foul sense of humor, so that’s probably foreshadowing for the reveal that L3 has been integrated into the Falcon after her death.

I’m going to talk about Dryden Vos in my Qi’ra post, but I don’t know if it’s due to Paul Bettany’s makeup, but he looked kind of… frail? Don’t get me wrong, he’s totally the Affably Evil Sociopath type, and he’s definitely someone you do not want to mess around with, but yeah. Him looking almost skeletal was probably part of the deal.

Enfys Nest was EPIC. I really hope we get comic books or novels about her, and it’s nice to see other rebel cells around. And her theme was THE SHIT with the choir and all. (Also, for my fellow Les Mis fans reading this: her actress (Erin Kellyman) is going to be Éponine in the upcoming BBC adaptation of Les Mis.) 

Spotted Warwick Davis playing one of Enfys Nest’s crew.

Also, the confrontation between Han and his crew versus Enfys Nest was some space spaghetti western shit. And Lando leaving with the Falcon was absolutely hysterical.  

That’s all I can think of right now. I’ll maybe have more thoughts later on.

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Puny

Puny Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Kidge Summary: AU featuring Katie the bartender and a mysterious stranger rolling into her dull, small town. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more. AN: I struggled a bit with this one but I still think this story turned out pretty okay.

Katie wasn’t necessarily satisfied with her job at The Stale Ale, the only bar in town, but it was a way to pay the bills. She had been living in the small, dull mountain town of Kerberos for nearly three years and been at the bar since she got there. She’d come here because the idea of college hadn’t been appealing but she’d needed some sense of independence from her family. Her parents had been terribly disappointed with her admission that she wasn’t going to take the scholarships or go to college right away, insisting that she would be wasting her time if she didn’t go for a degree. Her brother, Matt, had been much better about it, saying that he understood that she needed to take time for herself to reflect on what she really wanted out of life. She hadn’t spoken to her parents much since she moved but she did keep up with Matt as regularly as she could. He was, after all, busy with his own life.

And living in Kerberos and working at the bar certainly weren’t helping.

Every night was the same; the same faces, the same incidents, the same cleaning tasks and the same shifts. It was all so routine and expected that it felt like she was even more lost than she was three years ago. She ducked back behind the bar after taking the construction workers that came in every Friday night their first round of cheap, draft beer, tossed the serving tray on top of the stack, and pulled up her cutting board to get started on slicing some limes. A quick check of the clock showed that it was a quarter to eight, meaning that the bowling league guys would be showing up for their nightly round of pool and beer soon. It’d be best to have the limes ready to go before they arrived, simply to make her life easier.

The bell above the front door chimed lightly and an unfamiliar figure hovered in the doorway.

She cocked her head as the tall figure made their way to the bar itself, sliding into a bar stool and motioning him over with a small nod of his head. The first thing that caught her eye was the leather riding jacket and hunched shoulders, his arms seeming to be hidden within the front pockets of his jacket. “You got any food here?” He asked, blowing a few strands of his inky bangs out of his eyes.

“Depends on what you’re looking for,” She said, leaning her arms against the counter. He shifted back a bit in his seat, seeming to pull a little bit closer to himself.

“Do you have, like, some kind of fish?” He huffed.

She quirked an eyebrow then shrugged. “We have a tuna salad sandwich. Would that work for you?”

“Can I just get a plate of the tuna salad stuff? Like, no bread or anything extra, just the fishy part? Oh, and a little cup of milk?” He asked, glancing down as if to check his boots and then back up.

She frowned a bit. “Not interested in something a little more… Typical of a place like this?” She asked, gesturing around her with one hand.

He pinned her with a bland look before shaking his head. “When you put it like that, I guess I’ll take a beer, too. Whatever you’ve got that’s on tap and won’t have me spilling my guts out later,” He said evenly.

“Whatever you say, chief,” She said, giving him a quick salute before turning and heading to the back of the kitchen.

Gomez, the line cook, perked up as she made her way over to the fridge where he kept most of his supplies. “What are you looking for, Kat?” He asked calmly, walking over and leaning against the counter beside it.

“Got a weirdo out there that, get this, wants a beer, milk, and a plate of just tuna mix. Mind grabbing me a plate?” She asked, grabbing the container of tuna salad mix and the open carton of milk. She had one in the mini fridge up behind the bar for certain mixed drinks, but she hadn’t had to open it yet and wanted to prolong it. Once it was opened, she had to remark the labels on it for freshness.

“Yeesh, sounds like a real odd ball. If he starts acting like a total freak, remember to grab the bat we keep up there. It still hanging on the hooks right underneath?” He asked, opening the container and scooping out some of the tuna to plop on a plate. He offered it to her once she had poured some milk into a small cup.

“Thanks for the reminder, Gomez,” She said with a small laugh. The bat was supposed to be a deterrent for any potential robbers, though she didn’t exactly see the point. After all, if someone came at her with a gun, they’d probably be able to shot before she could land any decent blows with the bat.

She took the plate and glass back out to the bar, peering around the guy at the bar to see the bowling guys had come in and were starting to rack the balls at their table. She set the two down in front of the stranger and turned back to the long line of beers, grabbing a frosty mug and holding it up to the nozzle. “Never seen you around here before. Just passing through or planning to stick around?” She called over her shoulder as she prepared the beer.

“Not planning to stay here too terribly long; just got some business to sort out and then I’ll probably be moving along again,” He said, his jacket making noise as he moved.

She had just turned around to set down the beer when he eyes fell to the small, sickly looking fuzz ball now set on the bar counter.

“What is that?” She asked, setting the mug down and watching as he set the little gremlin down on the plate, watching it sniff at the tuna before licking at it cautiously.

“What, never seen a kitten before?” He scoffed, reaching down to carefully stroke down along its little spine with his index and middle fingers. Tiny, rumbly purrs could be heard as the kitten started going to town on the tuna.

“That thing is a kitten? But it looks so… Puny,” She said as she picked up another serving tray and started preparing the beers for the pool players.

“It was half dead on the side of a road, so it’s probably a bit on the frail side. Doesn’t mean it isn’t a kitten,” He scoffed, picking up his beer with his other hand and taking a swig. He made a face before setting it down and returning his attention to the kitten. “But I take it you’ve been here a while?”

“Excuse me?” She asked in surprise as she picked up the tray.

He looked over his shoulder at the pool table and then over at the tray in her hands. “You seem to have a regular schedule around here,” He commented.

She scowled a bit and waved a hand. “Something like that, I guess,” She said before heading over to the table.

The guys greeted her with their usual loud, unified shout of her name. Sampson made his weekly pass at her, complimenting how her work pants fit on her using highly vulgar terminology. Andrew apologized for Sampson, the beaten down little brother that all overgrown frat boys seemed to have, and slipped her a few extra bucks as an additional apology. Derek was on another one of his tirades about the government tapping phone lines while Kyle, a retired cop, told him that he was just being paranoid and had delusions of grandeur. She made sure to leave the small dish of sliced limes beside the ashtray on the windowsill, knowing full well that Derek would most likely end up knocking them over, regardless of location, before the night was done.

She returned and stared down at the brown and white mottled thing still resting on the plate. It had lapped up a decent amount of the tuna mix and was now lapping at a little bit of the milk. “I swear, that thing looks like a gremlin, no matter how you dice it. Oh, and in response to your comment about me having a schedule, so what if I do? I’ve been here for three years so it makes sense that I’d know what to expect by now,” She said.

“Sounds like this place is pretty dull,” He commented, leaning a little bit more on the counter. He kept one arm curled around the plate to assure his furry companion couldn’t run off to far. “Oh, and thanks for the name suggestion. Gismo will be a great name, regardless of what gender this little thing ends up being.”

She laughed lightly. “If you came to Kerberos in the hopes of adventure and excitement, then you really didn’t do any homework before moving out here. This place has been exactly the same since I showed up. I mean, not even a forest fire or car accident has happened in all my years here, and it’s honestly ridiculously infuriating. It’s like this place is trapped in the Twilight Zone or its own pocket dimension or something like that. First interesting thing to happen here since I came out here has been you showing up with that thing,”

“Sounds like a real hoot. Wish Kolivan had warned me about that before he convinced me to head on out here, then,” He scoffed.

“Your brother or something, I take it?”

“Old friend of my mom’s. He runs a mechanics shop here in town,”

“Yeah, I’m well aware of who Kolivan is. He’s the only mechanic here in town, if he hadn’t mentioned that. I know Trent and Glen up and quit on him last week, though,” She said back. Kolivan was one of the few people in town that wasn’t ear-bleedingly obnoxious or mind-numbingly boring. The man had a lot of interesting stories about all the odd jobs he’d worked over the years that he liked to share when he came by to have a few drinks. He could also play a mean game of darts, which she appreciated.

“Yeah, and Harris put in his two weeks a few days after they left,” The stranger snorted.

“Well that was expected. Ever since him and Theresa tied the knot he and I have been making wagers on how long they’d stick around for; looks like he owes me a sweet twenty bucks. Theresa has always hated this place and doesn’t think it’s a good enough place to raise children,” She said while wiping out a glass with a clean rag.

“Don’t blame her for that opinion. I mean, this place doesn’t even have a school, does it?”

“Not an official one, no,” She said, setting the mug in the clean rack. She then grabbed another mug and started cleaning another. “I mean, Claire offers some classes at her place, but it’s far from a structured curriculum. And since she’d be the only one teaching, it’s limited to whatever she actually knows enough about to teach.”

“Sounds like a real party down in this little town,” He scoffed lightly, chugging the rest of his beer. She took the mug and refilled it for him before taking another tray of beers out to the construction workers, then stopped by the pool table to clean up the spilled remnants of squeezed limes from the floor. “So if it’s so miserable and dull here, why do you stay?” He asked when she settled back behind the counter, the kitten nuzzled into his cupped hand, snoozing with its tiny head resting on his fingers.

“What?”

“I asked why you’re still here. I mean, you seem like a smart girl with plenty of potential. Why stay in a place that seems dedicated to stunting people’s development?” He asked.

She frowned slightly as she pondered the question. It was one she’d thought over herself, in the quiet moments in her apartment as she chased sleep like a starving lion on a young gazelle. She had been hoping that life in a small town would give her clarity, give her a taste of real hard work and accomplishment that would answer all the questions she’d been asking herself. At first, she had been thrilled at getting to enjoy the small town experience. There was something charming about having everyone remember her name and what she wanted, and being able to learn the same things about them. But once she hit six months and it felt like every day was the exact same as the one before it, she started to feel the irritation kicking up.

But her pride kept her from leaving. That would be admitting her decision had been wrong, but she didn’t exactly feel that way, either.

“I guess I’m just waiting to see if anything new happens that motivates me to leave,” She said with a  small shrug, making sure to keep up her poker face. She didn’t need a stranger making fun of her ambivalence to the sorry state of her own life.

“Well, if you ever need your car looked at, ask for Keith over at Kolivan’s. I’m sure you’ll be seeing me a lot in the weeks to follow, so you may as well know my name,” He said, taking the last swig of his beer and then standing.

“If you ever need a drink, just come ask your dear Uncle Katie here,” She said lightly while taking away the now empty mug. He chuckled a bit as he carefully settled the hand with the kitten into the pocket of his jacket.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” He said, waving back with his free hand and heading out. She watched him go, then turned her attention back to preparing the round of whiskey shots she knew the pool players would want. Maybe something good was starting with the arrival of this strange young mechanic rolling into town.

[seashanties-and-tales-blog]

Hellooooo I was wondering if I could get just any headcanons with tomura and his fem s/o?? Like literally anything you want as long as it makes my stomach fill with butterflies?

Tomura: 

◾️ When Tomura stares at you (Which is 95% of the time you are within his vicinity), it’s for a couple reasons. The biggest reason is because you’re just so damn beautiful and he can’t seem to wrap his head around it. Even more so because he has no idea how someone like you could be with him.

◾️ Sometimes when you catch him staring he’ll just keep doing it anyways, but most of the time he’ll avert his gaze and scratch his cheek nervously. He’ll mumble a bit to himself too. He’s not embarrassed to have been caught, he just isn’t sure how to explain himself if you ask about it.

◾️ His favorite time to spend with you is when you are alone together. He hates having to deal with everyone being around you and interrupting you two. 

◾️ The best thing is to be able to play video games while you’re resting between his legs, back against his chest, or your head is on his lap. He gets the best of both worlds then - being close to you and playing games at the same time.

◾️ You really are one of the few people who can tell Tomura something and he shows that he’s listening. He listens to other people too, surprisingly, but he never admits it.

◾️ For example, you can tell him to stop doing something and, albeit stubbornly, will immediately stop. If someone else were to ask him to stop, he might keep doing it but then stop a bit later.

◾️ Kurogiri and other members of the League know this. So when Tomura is doing something that seems risky or reckless, they bring it up to you. Whether or not you get involved is your choice.

◾️ You’re also very good at calming him down. He doesn’t get as angry and irrational as before, but he still has his spouts if insanity. 

◾️ Touching him gently in some way usually does the trick. Don’t bombard him or he’ll just get startled. Worse case is he lashes out at you, but when they happens he always reels it back in.

◾️ If he is particularly angry or upset, he’ll either have to have time alone or will drag you with him. He doesn’t want to vent to you or anything, he just wants to know that you’re there with him.

◾️ He likes to lay with his head in your lap, your fingers in his hair. Not particularly doing anything, just relaxing.

◾️ He will let you put chapstick on his lips. He will also let you put lotion on his skin. It can’t be flavored or scented though, or else he’ll complain.

◾️ Chances are you will be wearing his long black trench coat. If not that one, then he gets you one that is identical. It’s a possessive thing but also an aesthetic thing - partners in crime dress the same after all.

◾️ Plus as his name is growing in the villain world, people will come to realize that the girl wearing that black trench coat is Tomura’s girl… so don’t mess with her.

◾️ When someone is stupid enough to try something and, say you aren’t able to protect yourself on your own, Tomura will put down everything for you. He isn’t lazy or stubborn about that.

◾️ He might complain a little that you troubled him, but that’s all it is. Pointless complaining that doesn’t mean he’s actually bothered.

◾️ It is possible to fluster Tomura. Usually by kissing him and giving him lots of attention and affection. He’ll blush and turn his head away, looking anywhere but into your eyes. It’s actually pretty cute.

◾️ He traces two fingers along your bare skin as often as he can. It’s just something that he enjoys - it makes him feel especially close to you. 

◾️ Tomura has a thing for hands… he wants you to keep yours, though. But often he’ll look at your hands or want to place his (Carefully) over yours. 

◾️ He drinks when he’s at the bar. He doesn’t get drunk easily and hardly ever does, but when he does, he’s gets extra sleepy. He’ll want to drag you away and hold you prisoner so he can sleep with you next to him.

◾️ When you put in any sort of extra effort in your appearance - whether it’s an outfit you know he’d like or you style your hair a certain way - Tomura notices. It also makes him flustered. More often than not he’ll get quiet, look you up and down, and then look away.

◾️ If he’s not looking at you, considering it a compliment. You’re just too pretty for him to handle looking at.

◾️ He doesn’t stutter or anything. When he’s nervous around you he might start scratching it neck and dragging four fingertips against a nearby surface.

◾️ Tomura is not great with compliments. He’ll try sometimes though, but it never comes out right. 

◾️“…? You look fine.” It’s going to be rare to ever get the words ‘beautiful, cute, or sexy’ to come out of his mouth. Unless you’re having sex, then he might say all of those things. 

◾️ Tomura has developed a bit of a sense of humor. He teases you when he feels like he’s the one who has the upper hand. 

◾️ Your shy or embarrassed expressions are just so cute to him. It’s almost sadistic the way he enjoys seeing you get flustered because of him, but it isn’t always sexual. 

◾️ In fact, most of the time it makes his heart get this tinge of…. whatever it is. He doesn’t know but it feels kinda good.

◾️ If you want something and he knows you want it, he’ll be thinking of ways to get it for you. He’s not the kind to steal (not because he’s against it, but because he doesn’t go out to stores much) but he’ll probably do it for you. 

◾️ Tomura isn’t great at giving gifts but sometimes he’ll surprise you with one.

“You wanted this.” He’ll say as he tosses your gift toward you casually.

“Oh! Yeah, I did. How’d you get it?” 

“Hmmnn…” He sighs, slumping his way over to you. “It was a real bother. Next time don’t make me do something like that.” 

You didn’t make him do anything, he did it because he wanted to make you happy, but he won’t admit that. 

◾️ He will share his drink with you, the both of you using two different straws so you can drink at the same time. It’s actually kind of cute, which is why he won’t do it in front of the League.

◾️ Sometimes he gets needy for attention. In those cases he’ll get you alone, gently press you against the wall, and kiss your neck. The way he does this is surprisingly gentle.

◾️ Likes how you smell. Likes how you feel. Likes how you sound. Likes how you look. He likes everything about you, so much so that it bothers him at first. Then he realizes that he loves you… 

◾️ You might not ever hear the words directly out of his mouth, but it’s his actions that really matter the most. There is no debating the fact that Tomura loves you. It’s in the way he would do literally anything for you. He’s not only ruthless to achieve his own goals, but he’s ruthless to ensure that you are both his and happy.  

[madamhatter]

Ibara/Sophie...or for the sake of cursed: Che'nya/Sophie?

Send me a ship and I’ll tell you... | accepting

hateship, hateship, hateship

Who asks the other on dates: 

Ibara Saegusa has not left Sophie alone about going out and declaring himself as her partner for the longest time. All of these are empty promises to a game that he loves to play and wants to win, just to see the stalwart seamstress crumble in some shape or form. She has the gull to refute or turn her cheek at him as if he wasn’t having an effect on her -- which shortly feeds his damn antics to continue his pursuit of getting what he wants. 

From handing her tickets that Eden and Adam fans akin would draw blood for to personal appointments in his office, Ibara doesn’t give Sophie a break. It isn’t like she rejects all of them, usually stuck in social pressure if he does it in front of others that are either: mutual business partners or her business associates. Sometimes, though she doesn’t admit it, she may attend an outing of her own interest, just to see how he’d react. 

Though, Sophie has given him propositions in turn to see how he’d react too. She knows he’ll accept and he does, so she’s kind of a dumbass who is surprised by his response. Most of these are usually in regards to her position as a CEO, where she gets the unfortunate invitation to social events that would be populated with media. To her, it would make sense that he’d go, if not purely for the publicity and new access to people to exploit/trick. But, she doesn’t like to admit she just wants to be near someone she’s comfortable with.

Who is the bigger cuddler:

How the hell does Sophie get near him while resisting the urge to strangle him? There’s already hot-blooded hostility between the two of them -- be it because their relationship is tethered between professionalism and “resentment.” Yes, that word needs quotation marks because they’re idiots.

Ibara is more than willing to pull any stunt to get under her skin. Though, it’s usually with physical touch with her that varies tremendously and makes him feel different. He doesn’t admit it, but hey, he’s used to keep it inside.

In spite of this, they do actually settle sometimes when they’re both working together. In the case they both crash in the same couch, it’ll be Sophie who cuddles. It has once or twice because the moment Ibara wakes up and breathes, she immediately opens her eyes, and it’s a long stare. It’s the few times Ibara can get her embarrassed as he laughs -- out right terrified by what he’s feeling -- and she reproaches and tells him bluntly “Shut up!” and murmurs something about not being able to be “arsed about it.” 

Who initiates holding hands more often:

Two touched starved idiots walk beside another and their hands brush against another, what would they do? Ibara is more than happy to watch Sophie recoil, as he reasons he’s far too amused by her antics and stubbornness in whatever she does. Sophie darts her hand away the moment she feels his finger, body overcome with a cold sweat and her instinct kicking in faster than her reason. There are certain things that she refuses to ‘play’ around with, especially in public and what their images are. Getting affectionate in such a public area is beyond inexcusable, even if it’s with people that they know. 

There are moments when the hand-holding can be genuine and intimate between the two of them. But, they would usually look dumbfounded at another. So, they do reach out sometimes, if not to get rid of something egging on their mind. 

Sophie’s look is more suspicious, with her brows pinched and eyes narrowed. It’s a face she only makes when her truly colder, ruthless side emerges and it’s not one anyone should deal with. It is a reality of how much emotion she tries in her everyday interactions not to look emotionless. 

Ibara’s look is one that is equally uncharacteristic for the young man. Brows rising, body frozen, and hand shaking, these are the signals that could indicate to anyone that he is stunted by the turn of events and is unsure of how to process it. It’s a rarity that he, one who plans for everything and pulls the strings, finds himself unable to control this situation. 

Who remembers anniversaries:

Always punctual, both of them will never really break a sweat or ever really forget dates--. A lot of their current lives revolve around schedules and planning months in advance, so I highly doubt that. Though, that is them when they’re actually dating.

Ibara’s the little shit who proposes they have an anniversary date long before they’re even dating to annoy Sophie. The date he chosen out will be decked out with surprises with gifts and a date that leaves the seamstress overwhelmed and wanting to kill him. 

Who is more possessive:

The bastard we know as Ibara is definitely someone who’d be quite ‘in-the-know’ when it comes to who is interacting with Sophie and what kind of things they’re doing. He’s not stupid, he’s the same type of person who’ll exploit people in whichever way he sees fit and would have some concerns about Sophie falling for the same tricks. 

Ibara’s possessiveness comes from a craving for power. He isn’t above actually going into legally questionable tactics to make sure that people know that Sophie is his partner. Maybe he can’t be outspoken about it, as he is an idol, but he probably has several tricks up his sleeve to keep people far from interested in her. 

Who gets more jealous:

Not a doubt that Sophie is one who gets easily jealous and Ibara eats it up and pokes the beast that way she can even get more jealous. She is very straightforward when she tells someone she doesn’t like them (especially if they’re trying something with Ibara) and she will get haughty about it if Ibara teases her about it. 

These are those moments that Ibara can see better what gets at Sophie. It’s an overwhelming concentration of self-doubt and cynicism that she isn’t going to wanted for long and she should get used to it. I think there are points that he wouldn’t keep it up the more he witnesses how much Sophie will drag herself through the mud over it. 

But, he still isn’t above teasing her about it (when it doesn’t get that bad). He looks at her, smirks, and inquires if meet-and-greets really get to her when she has the privilege of being around him for free. And that’s how Ibara gets shut out from their bedroom for the night. 

Who is more protective:

Both. Ibara will not hesitate to use his combat training to put someone in place and he wouldn’t even break a sweat over it -- or even show any sign that he was going to pull it. Sophie, meanwhile, is one that will defend him on the parts that matter because she acknowledges that Ibara can be VERY slimey.

Who is more likely to cheat:

Neither. Can’t see it in character for them to do it, either way.  

Who initiates sexy times the most:

Oh my god. Sophie is definitely the one who takes on the initiative and has the tables turned on Ibara after all these years of messing with her before their feelings for another cemented. Ibara is one that wants to be in control and has a lot of himself repressed about what he wants to do during sex-- So, it’s going to be interesting for them to see how that plays out. All I know is Sophie can’t beat a trained soldier, but she sure as hell is dumb enough to go ‘oh? you want to top? earn it.’ and literally all Sophie can do is initiate it because she just bottoms.. 

Who dislikes PDA the most:

IBARA IS ALLERGIC TO TOUCH. Nah, he’s got a rough past when it comes to physical assault and isn’t exactly keen on being touch or he tenses up. Affection is strictly not going to happen while they’re in public because, even if Ibara just loves embarrassing her, he really isn’t going to compromise his image. PDA already not going to happen, but he’s definitely apprehensive to keep to himself, despite how much he really does want to be touched.

Sophie is a league below Ibara but they share the same sentiment of not really liking PDA and having similar reactions to being touched suddenly. Though, she does find substitutes like leaning close against him and linking arms with him -- making it look more professional and not as intimate as hand-holding. 

Who kills the spider:

Ibara goes for the kill but Sophie tells him no because it means there’ll be less bugs like ants and flies.. Sophie reasons that Ibara shouldn’t get jealous that there’s another ‘little predator’ and Ibara just stares at her because she’s really going down that path and she’s going to regret it. 

Who asks the other to marry them:

Ibara says they’re already dating jokingly and probably has mentioned they’re married jokingly if he sees that as the better response to use. However, the point in which one of those two things become true is when Ibara doesn’t even want the other being a reality. He’s pretty closed off himself and if he’s now in a commuted relationship with Sophie, which he really hasn’t really been in one, it’s him walking in blindly. as well, idols dating, no less marrying, is a big nono. 

But, I would think Ibara would want to propose when they’re dating to see her reaction (or he now realizes how much more annoyed/flustered she gets when he can suggest she is his fiance). He wouldn’t do the whole shebang to get on one knee -- this is more about if other people are in conversation (or know Sophie), he’ll drop that fact to see how they’ll respond and it grows and grows from there until it reaches Sophie and she’s like ‘aw FUCK that isn’t true.’ 

But seriously? It’s Ibara. He’ll need to make the call because Sophie definitely wants to propose but understands his situation and doesn’t even DARE want to push him into anything. 

Who buys the other flowers or gifts:

IBARA DOESN’T STOP BUYING THINGS AND SOPHIE HATES IT. He’s quite frugal in how he spends his money and definitely has developed a budget in ‘how to embarrass Sophie even when I’m not there.’ He has had things delivered to her home office in England when she’s not visiting and also things delivered to her apartment when she visits. 

It is literally the worst thing and Sophie hates it because it’s all ‘anonymous.’ Back home, she is more resistant to make a emotive response, but her sisters see it when she comes back home and they literally devour her with questions and accusations that her and Ibara are serious. Think of large bouquets and ‘sing-o-grams’ because Ibara found it and went ‘ah, something to impede her :).’ In Japan, she fucking knows who left the snake plushie on her bed in her apartment and she’s going to kill the man for breaking into her place again. 

Sophie’s much more subtle in how she bothers Ibara, but she usually makes her own things for him. He doesn’t get embarrassed by it and Sophie just sucks thinking this through when her pride blinds her. 

Who would bring up possibly having kids:

Sophie is very much the one that would bring up kids frequently once there is some steam in their relationship that goes beyond their ‘we’re too stubborn to admit attraction’ phase.  As Ibara is very much an active idol, having a relationship is usually a big ‘no-no’ (but this depends on the agency/contract too) and he isn’t as well fond of the idea of having kids too. It’s more nervousness about what comes with having kids and what he can provide as someone who didn’t have his parents. 

Though, it’ll happen more frequently as they get older and they’re active with another. It might end up being that she asks him ‘seriously’ about it. He asks why the change and she’s giving a nervous smile like ‘About that..’ and that’s when Ibara becomes a dad.

Who is more nervous to meet the parents:

Ibara laughs bitterly in the background about how his parents are most certainly alive and not at all involve in his life. Sophie twiddles her fingers over her canonically dead biological parents and the only surviving guardian she has taking complete advantage of her.

Neither of them are worried about meeting the other’s parents in this context. It’s already much that Ibara met Sophie’s sisters without her prompting it-- more so, it was accidental. Sophie’s usually waaaay too protective about her private life and never introduces people to her sisters unless it’s been a long while (ie: Anzu is probably the only one properly introduced).

Anyways! There isn’t much to be worried about in Ibara’s case too as he can easily get along with Fanny (stepmother to Sophie) and charm her.

Who sleeps on the couch when the other is angry:

Ibara is sentenced to the couch for bastard and horny crimes. Sophie refuses to share the same bed as him (when they’re older) and is indignant for whatever stunt he pulled this time. It is wise to avoid the fury behind Sophie’s cold glare when he oversteps his boundaries and violates certain comforts that she has.

Who tries to make up first after arguments:

Stubborn hatter and idol stuck in their work, refusing to admit the wrongs they’ve done and are preferring to avoid these weird negative emotions building up in them after the fight. It is usually a big storm that goes, but there’s plenty of rain left afterwards that needs to go. It isn’t really easy for them to really get close and act normal after certain fights and they definitely need their breathing space. Their relationship isn’t the healthiest and they both recognize that.

Sophie, though, would be the one to fess up and go into his office to make amends after that. She’s the one to be quiet about it, though. Her arms wrapped around his neck from behind and her face buried into his hair, while he’s busy typing away, somewhat ignoring her. It’s several minutes after that he acknowledges her and pats her head, telling her that they can talk about it after he’s done. 

Who tells the other they love them more often:

Sophie can directly tell Ibara that she loves him much more easier than he can ever say to her. It was a lot more common in her childhood that she reinforced that love for her sisters when she didn’t really receive it from her guardians. She ensured it was a staple in her sisters’ lives and she sure as hell going to remind Ibara anytime she’s able to tell him.

Ibara is much more resistant to saying at all, even with their relationship developed. It is such a foreign phrase and never used in his life that he’s almost allergic to hearing it. Not even his own unit mates can tell him that or make any reference of that to him. Though, as he gets older, he does reciprocate fondly and admits he loves her too -- or even teases her and goes ‘it’s about time you admitted it’ even if they’ve been together for like 2+ years.

[bad0mens]

Title: Pas de Deux II - Act II

Pairings: Fluri

Warnings: Unbeta’edness, Homophobic slurs

Authors’ Notes: Here’s the second part as promised!!

Disclaimer: Tales of Vesperia is the property of Namco Bandai.

Hockey never held an interest for him, but watching Flynn play was different. Flynn was sharp and fast, a powerhouse on the ice. He was passionate about playing. He loved the sport. There was nothing that he talked about more, and Yuri always did his best to listen. It was something Flynn cared about, and that was good enough to make Yuri care. But perhaps he cared too much. Flynn had asked him to come, and Yuri hadn't been able to turn him down. They had come all this way with Flynn's hopes still in the air, still on this dream of his.

He made it to every game he possibly could, just as Flynn made it to as many performances. And here Yuri was now, watching Flynn try out on foreign ice, in front of a slew of people neither of them knew. Yuri hadn't even bothered to be introduced. That was his choice. Flynn tried to insist, but it was better this way. Especially with the voices of several members of the Rhyards coming over the stands toward were Yuri sat, a few sections over.

"He's good. No doubt about that."

Yuri felt himself smile a little at that, but continued chatter was off putting and unnerving, even as he tried to ignore it.

"What about that guy he brought with him?"

"Long hair?"

"Yeah. Over there."

Those dumbasses didn't even realize that Yuri could hear them, and if they did, they didn't care.

"Could be a friend."

"Friend with benefits maybe. Come on, Long Hair walks like a fag."

The fire that crept up Yuri's throat was barely repressed. He had heard it all before, the slurs and swears, the rumors and the stereotypes. High school had come and gone and this was the real world and these people were still acting like gossipy teenagers like this was their business. They had to see past that, though. Flynn was too good a player for them to disregard him for something that he couldn't change. At least that's what Yuri thought. He also thought about what that could mean for Flynn. These players didn't sound nearly as tolerant as the Knights were, who had welcomed Flynn even after coming out, and who extended the term of family to Yuri also.

Yuri hunkered down and ignored as best he could further gossiping. But ignoring was hard to do when his brain was keyed into those words, listening for the slightest hint of what they might have thought of Flynn, what their judgment of him was, a judgment made because Yuri was here. If he hadn't come, they wouldn't have had to know. They would have never given Flynn being gay a second thought.

Further whispers passed between them, just loud enough for Yuri to hear. Stinging words and euphemisms, sick jokes and assumptions. All he could do now was focus on Flynn, showing off his talent on the ice before those who judged him for something that would never affect his playing. All he could do was focus and hope. Hope that he hadn't fucked this up for Flynn.

For an hour, they had Flynn take shots at goals and go head to head against members of the team. He held his own. Yuri hadn't been worried about that. The gossip from the others had eventually died down and he waited at the stadium's exit, well away from Flynn and the team for Flynn to finish his business. It was another ten minutes before he emerged from the locker room, wiping sweat from his brow, smiling.

"They were impressed." He was nearly glowing.

"They had every reason to be. You're a great player."

"Thanks for coming with me."

"So when will you know for sure?"

"A few days probably. Maybe a week."

Of course it wouldn't be long. Yuri hadn't thought that it could be that short of a time before he had a concrete answer. If the manager of the Slyvarant Rhyards was smart, he would sign Flynn as soon as possible, before another major league team came along to do the job. Once he was in the big leagues, teams were going to be fighting for him, and the team that debuted him, would get the recognition for it.

"Were you ready to go ahead and do your audition?"

Yuri had tried to forget about it, but the thought weighed in the back of his mind. He was going to have to get it over with. He figured that he was already well rehearsed on Hades from Persephone, so those steps would work well enough. It's not like he was actually going to try. He was just going through the motions to satisfy Flynn. After all, he was the one who set up the audition on the pretense of them moving here together. But a single night in the city had cemented what Yuri had been feeling all along: Slyvarant was not for him.

"Yeah. Let's go." He tried not to sound disinterested. There was no point raining on Flynn's parade now. He was the one with hope and promise here.

It was another hour in gridlocked traffic. That was something else he hated. Zaphias was bustling and busy in its own way, but this was too much.

The studio for Slyvarant Dance was in the art district of downtown. From the look of the outside, it was an renovated warehouse, scaled up and built upon to give it the air of distinction and class. The enormous glass windows gave them a clear view of the dancers within, all clad in dark purple and practicing tight and perfect maneuvers. This was a place where people who danced their whole lives, people who dedicated every fiber of their being to ballet, performed.

The knot in his throat was impossible to swallow as they entered and were greeted in the foyer by a tall, lithe man, lean of face and limb, whose form, although aged, still portrayed that of a dancer once at his peak. He gave Yuri a sideways glance, shifty and unimpressed over the gilded rim of his glasses, and Yuri knew instantly that this was a mistake.

"You must be Yuri Lowell."

"Yeah. That's me."

"Your, ahem, friend here told me much about you. We do have a interview before auditions. I trust that won't be an issue for someone of your apparent skill."

"Whatever." He wasn't trying to impress anyone.

"We'll conduct it during a tour if that is satisfactory."

"Fine by me."

They started down the hall leading out of the foyer, Flynn following behind him, passing by numerous rooms lined with mirrors and balance bars with perfectly poised and practiced dancers warming up or going over steps.

"Did you attend school?"

"Yes."

"Where?" It was the answer he wanted in the first place.

"The Governor's School. And then Kelvin College of Art."

The director nodded, but did not seem impressed. "Nearly all of our dancers have graduated top of class from Saint Yulia."

"That's great. Real impressive." He couldn't have sounded more sarcastic if he had tried.

"How long have you been dancing?"

"Eight years."

"Are you currently with a troupe?"

"The Halure Dance Troupe in Zaphias."

"I see." There was an unpleasant sneer to his voice that made Yuri want to punch this guy. "What productions and roles have you participated in the last year?"

Next thing the director was likely to ask for was a pedigree. Yuri wasn't a show dog, but he had bite to back up his bark. Yuri began listing off his roles anyway, "Title role, Othello. Title role, Dracula. Title role, Romeo and Juliet. Zuniga, Carmen. Loys, Giselle. Title role, The Nutcracker. Odile, Swan Lake. And currently working on Hades for Persephone."

It was hard to him to deny that those were venerated roles that required a dancer of a certain caliber. Yuri waited for further questions on the subject, but only one more came.

"I think that's quite enough for the interview. Would you do us the honor of a dance?"

He turned and extended his hand into a room void of other dancers, save one. But that one was enough for Yuri, and more than enough to tense his limbs in rage. He had hoped that he would never have to see that smug face once he finished out his high school dance training.

Here was Alexander Cumore, still as arrogant as ever, finishing off a step that seemed difficult to most onlookers, but was, in fact, quite basic. He added his own little flair to make it seem different and special, but over extension and being too showy were big faults of his. Yuri didn't envy anyone who may have had the misfortune of dancing with him, whether the role be the lead or a background part. No doubt that in spite of not being the prima ballerina, he still acted like it. Tens of thousands of dollars of tuition to one of the best dance schools in the nation often inflated egos like that. Cumore's had been running away with him for years before that.

"Well, if it isn't Yuri Lowell. My, it has been a long time." The nasally strain of his voice grated on Yuri's ears. It hadn't been a long enough time from Yuri's point of view.

"Cumore." He did his best to loosen up. There was no way he was going to be able to dance confidently if he wasn't in the right frame of mind. "I wish it had been longer. I would have preferred never."

"Just like on the question of when you'll be a dancer worth all the time those instructors wasted on you?"

He heard Flynn let out a tiny gasp, the sharp inhale of breath that marked his surprise, but Yuri didn't let the insult get to him. He had endured much worse. Four years at the high school level had taught him how best to deal with Alexander Cumore. It wasn't about getting into this stupid elitist troupe. This was about proving Cumore wrong and Cumore was just as eager to do the same to him.

Yuri stretched on his step backward, drawing his arms across his torso to pop his shoulders. He took his bag from Flynn and replaced his sneakers with his slippers. He was going to do this and do it right. The main question now was what was he going to do?

There were many steps that he could use here. Basic, intermediate, advanced, and Cumore knew all of them as well. It was no secret as to which dance he would do. Nothing but the best and the biggest and the flashiest for Alexander Cumore. Siegfried's solo from act III of Swan Lake had always been one of Cumore's favorites.

"I will go first." Those words had barely passed those lips that were several shades too pink for that pale face and Cumore was at the center of the floor.

Leaps and entrechats and spins and fouettes. Yuri couldn't doubt that Cumore's training at St. Yulia hadn't been worth every penny. He was a good dancer, even a great dancer, no matter how hard it was to admit that. His downfall was completely in his arrogance. If he decided one day to take a leap too high, or perform too quickly, the resulting injury could -- well, Yuri didn't want to start thinking about that. It was too much liking hoping for it.

Cumore could have danced the solo blindfolded. He would have been a great dancer if he had ever gotten his head out of his ass. But his performance here was flawless, probably even better than usual because he had a grander goal in mind. He wasn't simply dancing. He was here to show Yuri up, to prove himself better, to prove that money and status bought talent. And in the eyes of these people, those things were the truth.

Even with his grandstanding and need to embellish the dance, Cumore finished quickly, and turned his crimson eyes at Yuri, watching and waiting for his move, for whatever dance he might display. By this time, the walls of the room were crowded with performers from other rooms, come to watch their male lead triumph and for him to fail.

He strode forward and took his start position. With a wave of his hand, he called to one of the line girls, who briefly panicked but came to him anyway. He needed a partner for this who wasn't going to distract him, and her unobtrusive presence would be perfect.

Carmen was far from his favorite of the classics, but he knew it well enough for the piece that he chose. From a technical standpoint, Jose's dance was one of his strongest. It had been months since he danced it, but that didn't mean he had forgotten the ebb and flow of the steps. He stood before the stunned line girl and waited, loosing his muscles, as the fire flooded his veins, a feeling that always rushed him when he was about to dance.

It hit him all at once, a crack of thunder that split the silence in his mind and pushed all the way to the very edges of his senses, throwing everything else back. In that moment, he was only a dancer and nothing else mattered. Not this city, not this audition, not Cumore.

Yuri was one with each movement, letting the music of the scene flow in his brain and lead his body in all the proper directions. The moody and sensual piece was much more contained than Siegfried, less leaps and entrachats, and much more about the quickening steps and pace around this false 'Carmen', the intimacy of the motions, the near misses of the touches. When he caught himself at the halfway point, flowing like fire toward Carmen and then away, begging, pleading, his lungs were burning for breath, but his body was in full awakening. Every sensation and sweep ran like a shower of sparks in his veins. A few steps more, a little more of Jose's dance of longing.

His spin ended on his knees before the trembling dancer, staring down at him with eyes wide, and behind her, trapped in the entrance way of the room was Flynn, a warm light in the sea of dark dancers that had pooled in to watch. Those blue eyes were so bright with admiration and Yuri felt his limbs go as cold and quiet as the grave, the rush leaving him like a drought. That look had inspired him before. And now it hurt.

Cumore was ready with a sneer to distract him.

"I expected Odile." Of course Cumore would have. It was the dance that got Yuri into school. "But your Jose was just as stiff and ugly. It was about time that someone clipped your wings."

That didn't hurt nearly as much as the look of shock that crossed Flynn's face next.

Almost as quickly, the director was there, looking down at Yuri, looking down on Yuri. He barely had a second to breathe between them.

"I'm afraid that someone of your... talents... would be best suited elsewhere."

Yuri didn't look back. There wasn't any piece of disappointment shredding up his insides. This was fine. He hadn't wanted to be here anyway, and he certainly didn't want to be in the same troupe as his old school rival, who still made his temper flare. He would never be good enough in eyes like those, no matter how hard he tried. He would never be worth anything.

The wet heat coming off the city pavement nearly choked him when he found himself suddenly outside. Fresh air wasn't as much of a relief as he hoped. He tore off his slippers and let his feet settle on the burning hot concrete. It did little to relieve the ache, but it was deeper than this, deeper than the twisting pain on his insides.

"Yuri--" Flynn was behind him, nudging him with the tips of his sneakers. Yuri couldn't face him. He took the shoes though, and blindly slipped them on. "Yuri, I--"

"Can we go back now?"

His own voice sounded like a tremble, like a whimper of defeat, like fear and panic and everything in between.

"Can we go back now?"

He hadn't said it a second time, but the ringing in his ears made it sound that way.

Yuri didn't mean to the hotel. He meant Zaphias. But Flynn couldn't have, and didn't, know that.

Yuri had hardly moved an inch once they returned to the hotel. He had been cold and quiet since his audition. Even the prospect of food hadn't moved him from the bed. He had every right to be upset. What had happened was unlike anything Flynn expected. He had been so hopeful and Yuri had done amazingly. Why hadn't they seen that? Why couldn't they see the passion that drove Yuri? That filled him up like fire when he danced, that made him beautiful and irresistible?

Flynn had witnessed Yuri perform Jose's dance for the third time. It wasn't the same as that first, when he was the the centerpiece of the pas de deux, unmoving as Yuri prostrated himself in that ardent display. The second time was colder, the steps all the same, but the fire of passion had dimmed. And this third time, when he caught a glimpse of Yuri's face while he did his passes around the girl, it was an emotionless mask of white. The steps were perfect, but Yuri was cold and stony.

Rather than try and get Yuri to agree to go out, Flynn had ordered room service. Maybe a little time alone would give Yuri a chance to calm down. This needn't be defeat.

Flynn pulled the desk chair up to the edge of the bed and leaned with his elbows into its softness. The quiet in the room stretching out between them was deafening and Flynn was so tired of feeling useless, or not knowing what to say.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "We'll have better luck tomorrow. We'll find a better troupe. One that will have no problem recognizing your talent."

Yuri was silent and stone still, staring at the ceiling.

He reached across the satin comforter, rumpled from where Yuri lay, and took a gentle hold of Yuri's calf. He worked so hard and his feet probably ached.

"I thought your dance was wonderful." Maybe that didn't mean much coming from Flynn. Maybe the judgment of his peers was weighed much more heavily, but that didn't mean that what Flynn said was wrong or without merit. No doubt that Yuri was taking this as a personal failure, but that was wrong. He hadn't failed. It was Flynn who should have tried harder. Just because that troupe had been the most famous in Slyvarant didn't mean that it was right for Yuri. Any other troupe would have accepted him in a second.

Flynn let his hand trail down the length of Yuri's long legs and cupped his fingers over the consistently bruised and calloused toes at the end of it. They curled a little reflexively against his palm. A foot rub was one of the best non-sexual ways Flynn had of showing his appreciation of Yuri's body, even if the tides usually turned in a more sensual direction once he got started. Maybe Yuri just needed the distraction.

Pressing his thumb into the pad of Yuri's foot, he expected the usual groan and shudder, but the welcome he received was much colder this time.

Yuri pulled away and rolled over, curling up on his side.

"Yuri...."

"I'm tired."

Flynn quickly squashed the uneasiness filling up his stomach. Of course Yuri was tired. He had had a week of practice prior to the long drive here. Flynn had kept him up most of the night before, and they both rose early for auditions today. Although his dance had been short, he put his heart into each superb step and it had been trampled on those who believed themselves better. but it felt like something deeper than that.

"Get some sleep. I'll wake you up in time for dinner." Flynn came around the bed and kissed him on the temple, burying his nose in the darkness of Yuri's silken hair. "I love you."

There was no reply.

When Yuri was still not up to his usual level of energy by the next day, they cut their sightseeing short. Flynn found himself getting annoyed, but chalked it up every time to what Yuri must have deemed a personal failure and he let it go. He couldn't be upset at Yuri about that. They packed up and were back on the road home by early afternoon. There was so much more that Flynn wanted to see, but Yuri had a show forthcoming and rather than strain him, he let it be. With luck, they would soon have all the time they needed to explore the city more intimately.

The drive back to Zaphias seemed so long, the stretch of highway ending in a black dot against the horizon. He hadn't known that traveling could make him so weary, especially when Yuri wasn't being very active.

It was a lie to say that returning home to Zaphias wasn't something of a relief. He was glad to be out of the car, and Yuri seemed a little better for it as well. At least his appetite was back.

The kitchen of Flynn's apartment smelled perpetually of Yuri's cooking, warm and spicy, the air thick with it. Flynn was accustomed to it after all these months, but it still filled him with a longing and a fire that was hard to contain. He like to watch Yuri cook, whether it be from the counter beside him or dining table where he was usually relegated. So long as he didn't make himself a nuisance, he didn't get yelled at. Maybe he was being a little of one right now.

His fingers wound in the strings of Yuri's apron, tugging gently and threatening to pull the knot loose. His other hand crept up Yuri's back, kneading with the tips of his fingers the flesh there. The length of Yuri's pale neck beneath his lips was warm and feathered with the edges of his hair, drawn back in a ponytail. Yuri seemed impervious to Flynn's attempts, his attention squarely on the hot pan before him.

"I love you," Flynn groaned against Yuri's neck.

"If you want dinner, you'll back up."

"I love you."

"Get off of me." Yuri tried to shrug him off, but Flynn held firm.

He wanted to hear it, those three words that Yuri never uttered, three simple, earth shattering words, but he knew that Yuri wouldn't. It was foolish to hope, but Flynn did anyway.

Flynn had first said those words in front of a packed stadium, screaming it into the stands that so that Yuri could hear. He had made an effort to say it everyday since, but Yuri had never once responded that way Flynn wished he would. Was it too much to hope for? Too much to want to hear the words that expressed his feelings returned?

He wasn't sure why Yuri never said them, and Yuri being Yuri, never felt the need to offer up an explanation.

When Flynn wouldn't budge, Yuri slung the pan onto a different burner and turned in his arms. "Fine. We can skip dinner. I wasn't very hungry anyway."

Yuri's mouth latched onto Flynn's making further words impossible as they stumbled into the living room and Flynn fell back onto the sofa.

Yuri had no words. He had actions, strong and sweet and ravenous, motions of quivering flesh and sounds of fiery pleasure, but no words. He was strength and fire and radiance and savagery and Flynn wanted all of it. He wanted it, greedy for it, but he knew that no matter how hard he tried, there were places in Yuri he couldn't reach, even with all of his own strength. Those places were dark places where Yuri's own fire and radiance didn't even light, places Flynn would never see, never feel, never experience. But the tingling of them was still there, taunting and tantalizing him, but they were kept far, safely locked back by Yuri and Flynn had no key and no combination. Only Yuri could open that door and he wouldn't.

His body ached for Yuri's touch, for the feel of him, for tongue and teeth and so much more. Yuri always burned with the fire of passion, and unquenchable flame that drove him. The heat of those flames was too hot to bear, but Flynn couldn't let go.

Yuri slumped against him, thighs quaking, voicing fading out of the moan that saw him completed, fire wrapped in flesh there in Flynn's lap. He was shivering, shaking as ecstasy was leaving him, his arms sagging against Flynn's shoulders as he threaded his fingers across Flynn's scalp. Flynn could only sit there, sinking into the sofa beneath Yuri's weight, basking in the afterglow of Yuri's radiant flame, a heat that passed between their skins, a warmth that faded from his eyes but lingered in his lips and limbs as they covered Flynn. He nuzzled beneath Yuri's jaw, the warm thump of a calming heart beat against his cheek. Yuri was beautiful and Flynn was enraptured.

"I love you."

Almost as soon as those three words passed his lips, Yuri tensed, pulling back as if repulsed.

"Stop saying that." He was up, padding away toward the bedroom.

"Yuri." Flynn wretched himself from the softness of the couch to follow.

He was stopped in the doorway to the bathroom, pale fingers digging into the frame. He wasn't moving.

"What's the problem with you lately?" Flynn's tone wavered and rose. It wasn't just this incident wearing on him. Yuri had been sulking their whole trip to Slyvarant. Every time Flynn said those words, the three words that he longed to have returned, Yuri flinched like he was disgusted.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Then why are you acting like this?"

"I'm not acting like anything!"

"Then what the hell is wrong?!" Flynn curled his fingers around Yuri's shoulder, whipping him around to look him in the eye.

Those eyes flashed like summer thunderheads and he pulled away.

"Yuri, I don't understand." He let his voice ease back down to his normal tone. He was only concerned and only wanted the truth. He wanted Yuri to be open and honest with him, to stop hiding, to let Flynn in. "Please."

"Leave me alone."

"Why can't you just say it?"

"Because words don't mean anything."

Why did that sting so much, so deep that it ached against Flynn's spine? Why did that door slamming in his face make him angry enough to rip it off its hinges? Why didn't Yuri see? Why didn't Yuri understand? And why didn't Flynn have the words?

The door that barred him out made it very clear that Yuri was in no mood to talk and Flynn was in no mood to deal with him. If he was going to be a temperamental child about this, if he was going to hold it all in and keep it to himself, then fine. He could. That didn't stop Flynn from punching the door and the sound of the shower starting up didn't stop Yuri from hearing it.

The bed was cold, but he curled up in it anyway. If Yuri wanted to talk, he would be here, but he knew that wasn't going to happen.

The spray of the icy cold shower didn't drown out Flynn's pounding on the door. Anger had turned his skin so hot that the thought it would melt right off, but the shower kept him whole, kept him from falling into pieces and washing down the drain. He wished that he could have. He'd have some escape rather than walking out that door and past Flynn, waiting for his explanation on the cause of their argument. Waiting for those words, those words that Flynn wanted and those words that Yuri couldn't say. He didn't have the ability and Flynn didn't understand. There was no way that he could. There was no way he could ever understand why those words were impossible for Yuri.

Hesitantly, Yuri cut the shower off, turning the knob so that the water slowed to a trickle. He listened for the slightest sound beyond the bathroom door, but there was nothing. He wasn't sure how long it had been, how long he had been hiding here, how long that he thought he could stay here. He didn't belong here. He never belonged here. He was a fool to think any differently.

It was silent in the apartment, a long, stark, black silence that filled every corner only abbreviated by the rustle of the shower curtain and his footsteps padding sopping wet across the linoleum. He paused at the door. There was still that inescapable silence.

Flynn was asleep in bed, snoring softly in a world far from here, a world where Yuri didn't belong, where Yuri would never belong.

He dressed. It was too oppressive here. He couldn't stay. He had stayed too long already. This was for the best. This was what was right. Flynn would have to understand. Yuri couldn't say those words. He never could.

There was only one thing left, one thing still binding him here, still giving him pass to enter this place, to be a part of Flynn's life, and it was in his hand. The cheap brass shone like gold in the single street light that filtered in the window. He knew its sharp edges intimately, its weight in his hand, the sound it made as it scraped through the lock that was its match. This was too heavy for him to bear. This was it, this was the end.

No matter how gently he set the key down on the nightstand, it still sounded like a thunderclap in his ears, a flooding swell that fill up his insides and stung at his eyes. He forced himself a step back, and then another. It was too late to turn back now.

"Good bye, Flynn."

[asfeedin]

European soccer, UEFA can use common sense to finish 2019-20 season. PLUS

We’re no closer to knowing when soccer might return to action given the global reaction to slowing the coronavirus outbreak, but there’s still a lot happening in the broader soccer world. Gab Marcotti reacts to the main talking points in the latest Monday Musings.

Jump to: Common sense must rule | Dutch league vacates title | | Harsh lesson for Kean

European leagues free to use common sense around how to end the 2019-20 season

Memo to decision-makers around Europe’s top leagues: the rules and bylaws that govern the game weren’t handed down by a higher being. They were made by people who didn’t (and couldn’t) envision anything like the current pandemic-induced shutdown. That said, because they are man-made, there’s nothing wrong in rewriting them if it suits the common good, and UEFA’s executive committee statement last Thursday took a general step in that direction.

– Stream new episodes of ESPN FC Monday-Friday on ESPN+ – Stream every episode of 30 for 30: Soccer Stories on ESPN+

There’s an “ideal scenario” in which the public health situation improves, every top-flight fixture gets played and they even squeeze in the remainder of the 2019-20 Europa League and Champions League seasons by August. Great. That’s the goal. Fingers crossed. Then there’s the uncomfortable reality: what to do if you can’t finish.

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UEFA says the season can only be terminated early under two circumstances. One is if governments prohibit sporting activity until a certain date and you simply run out of time to end this season and start the next one. (They don’t specify a start date for next season, but according to multiple sources, they want 2020-21 to start in September at the latest — pandemic permitting, of course.) The other is if there are “insurmountable economic problems” that make finishing the season “impossible” because it would jeopardize the long-term financial stability of clubs.

The first scenario is self-explanatory. The second is a catchall that can really be extended to everyone, if necessary, but is meant primarily for leagues without big TV contracts, where income comes primarily from gate receipts. Playing safely behind closed doors is expensive, and doing so for free or close to it, where there is no broadcast cash at stake, will hurt clubs financially.

But if seasons do end early, what to do?

Let’s be clear here: It’s not UEFA’s call, per se. If leagues want to shut up shop now and award titles based on cumulative squad numbers or alphabetical order, they’re free to do so — at least in theory. Equally, if they want to keep playing through 2021, they can do that too — in theory.

Dan Thomas is joined by Craig Burley, Shaka Hislop and a host of other guests every day as football plots a path through the coronavirus crisis. Stream on ESPN+ (U.S. only).

In practice, every league wants access to UEFA competitions — and the revenue they bring — and therefore will apply UEFA guidelines. Those guidelines emphasise a simple concept: sporting merit.

Some have focused on how they stop countries from declaring leagues “null and void,” which means the 2019-20 season is invalidated as if it never took place, wiping everything from the record books. That’s plain common sense. You can’t pretend things that happened never actually took place.

The real point here is that UEFA want teams to qualify for 2020-21 based on what they did in 2019-20; they’re just leaving it up to the leagues in terms of how to do it. If you don’t have enough time to complete all the fixtures, but can play some of them, you may want to opt for a playoff system to settle European places, titles or relegation. Or you can take the table as it was when play ended, or you can use average points. Or weighted points. Or whatever system your nerds come up with. The only condition is that it has to reflect what actually happened on the pitch while also being objective, transparent and nondiscriminatory. (This bit basically means you can’t send Manchester United into the Champions’ League instead of Leicester City because you think it benefits your league.)

That’s it. Everything else, from who to crown as champion to who to relegate to how to divvy up domestic prize money (which is what some people really care about), is up to the individual league.

As for those situations that are less clear-cut? Just lock decision-makers in a proverbial room and find a solution.

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Julien Laurens says the Bundesliga will be the first European league to resume despite a potential delay.

Take Serie A, where Juventus have a one-point lead over Lazio. Ask the clubs to vote: Juve, Lazio or “VACANT” (in which case, you don’t award a title). Relegation and promotion? Let’s face it: There’s one club suddenly making a ton more money and another club making a lot less money. So, for example, see if Norwich (bottom of the Premier League) and Leeds United (top of the Championship) can hammer out a deal. Maybe Norwich stays up but pays a chunk of their revenue next season to Leeds, or Leeds go up and do the reverse, sharing some of the cash bonanza with Norwich.

And if you can’t work it out and 20 adults in a (virtual) room can’t reach an agreement? Suck it up, don’t relegate anybody and promote the top teams from the second-flight. This wouldn’t be my choice, but hey, it’s down to which system stinks less at this point.

Read all the latest news and reaction from ESPN FC Senior Writer, Gabriele Marcotti.

The point here is that UEFA didn’t issue edicts or rules from on high. They offered guidelines — and reasonable ones — for leagues to follow if they want to play in their competitions. The rest is up the people who run the leagues and the clubs.

I hope it doesn’t come to this, though, because I hope we can continue playing and wrap things up on the pitch. But if we can’t, I hope they remember that these are exceptional times, usual rules and regulations need not apply and there is such a thing as reasonable, common-sense consensus. I hope they find it.

Dutch Eredivisie decides to end season

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Jan-Joost van Gangelen thinks Dutch football may reverse the decision to effectively void the season.

The Dutch government’s decision to put ban all public gatherings until Sept. 1 means the Eredivisie won’t return and finish their 2019-20 season. There’s not much to argue about when decisions are made on a political level and not declaring the 2019-20 title vacant makes sense given that AZ Alkmaar and Ajax were level on points.

More complicated is what to do in terms of promotion and relegation, and here the Eredivisie becomes a test case for what we discussed above. The Dutch FA opted to have a consultative vote among the 34 clubs in the top two divisions (there are 38 teams, but four are the B-teams of top-flight clubs). Sixteen voted to enable promotion and relegation, nine voted against and nine abstained. Because there was no outright majority in favour of enabling promotion/relegation, the Dutch FA opted to freeze the situation.

Predictably this has sparked outrage and lawsuits from clubs like de Graafschap and Cambuur, who looked as if they had promotion all locked up. There’s a distinct possibility the courts might step in, and we may see a 20-team Eredivisie next season, but that would be far from ideal. Like I said earlier, though, there’s no good way to do this. Just “least bad” options. And you’re still holding out hope that some deal can be reached.

Don’t hate Ozil for turning down Arsenal pay cut

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Gab Marcotti and Julien Laurens discuss Mesut Ozil’s decision to refuse a pay cut in the coronavirus crisis.

Mesut Ozil was turned into ubervillain No. 1 last week by some observers when reports emerged that he was one of two Arsenal players to turn down the club’s proposed 12.5% pay cut, which could reduce down to 7.5% or even zero if they hit certain targets.

– Laurens: Inside Arsenal’s pay cut controversy

Ozil already has two strikes against him in that he’s the club’s highest-paid player and his performances haven’t been much to write home about over the past two years. But depicting him as the epitome of greed is way off the mark. According to multiple sources, he was ready to accept an immediate wage deferral that would help with whatever cash flow issues the club might have had. And he was open to cutting his salary as well, once the club’s financial situation became clear and we understood just how hard the pandemic was affecting the books.

It’s an entirely reasonable stance, frankly. If his teammates, out of love for the club, agreed to rush into pay cuts without having an idea what Arsenal’s losses from the pandemic were going to be, that’s wonderful. But it’s unfair to slam Ozil for not going along with it.

A learning experience for Kean

Roughly this time last year, Moise Kean was coming off a run of scoring in six straight games (two of them for Italy, four of them for Juventus). He was one of Roberto Mancini’s bright young things at international level and some thought he could break into Juventus’ starting lineup alongside Paulo Dybala and Cristiano Ronaldo.

Fast-forward 12 months. He hasn’t been seen in an Italy shirt since, and in those 12 months, he has scored just one goal in 26 club appearances. And now he thinks it’s a good idea to violate social distancing laws by hosting a party at his house. Dumb as it was, it becomes exponentially dumber by allowing one of the attendees to take videos and send them out on Snapchat.

It’s straight out of the Kyle Walker Manual of Numbskullery. Everton say they are “appalled,” and rightly so. Kean is 20 years old and, evidently, not as mature as some would like him to be, in the same way many of us made stupid choices at that age. Let this serve as a lesson.

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Tags: 201920, blog - marcotti, Common, English Premier League, European, finish, German Bundesliga, Season, Sense, Soccer, UEFA

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