#I drew this some more than a year ago and been tinkering with it since.

[hiddencarpet]

[ID: Earthsea fanart. A digital artwork depicting Sparrowhawk and Vetch under starry sky. They are both sitting under a warm brown blanket. Exhausted Sparrowhawk sleeps leaning on Vetch and Vetch sings softly as he holds his hand. End ID]

Vetch singing for Sparrowhawk

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane’s Pets Chapter 64: Group Therapy

TWs in the tags

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Barron’s been staying away from you. It spends most of its time not at work in its room, even eating in its room.

You can’t tell what its goal is, but you do feel safer seeing it less. Diya and Greg don’t seem any more tense than normal, so you’re pretty sure it isn’t building up to anything.

You don’t ask them or Barron what’s going on, though. They might say that Barron is isolating itself in its own home just to make you feel more comfortable, and that would make you feel bad.

Right now, though, Barron is at work for at least 30 more minutes, so you don’t have to worry about it. You play a card game Kitty invented with Diya and Greg instead.

You place down a card. “What’s Barron’s job, anyway?”

“Mage stuff.” Diya says, drawing a card. “It used to be like, a mage social worker, but now it works in… well, apparently mages are very particular about the language, but it basically makes new spells. There’s this huge debate about if that job is actually creating spells or discovering them. I think they call it tinkering or something? Anyway, that’s Barron’s job.”

“Ah.” You don’t know how to feel about that, but you think it makes Barron more dangerous.

“It’s your turn.” Greg says.

You draw a card. “How did you guys meet Barron, anyway?”

Diya laughs and plays two cards. “I met Barron at a bar a few years ago. When I got away from Irving, it was the only person I could think of to go to, and it took me in. Greg was already living with it, then.”

“When did you meet Barron, Greg?”

Greg plays several cards. Shit, they’re going to beat you if you don’t stay focused. “It’s your turn.” You glance at the cards in your hand and draw another card. “Me and my sister were looking for someone that could help cure her illness and keep us hidden from the fae. Most people thought we were insane. Barron believed us, though, and tried to help.”

Diya squeezes their shoulder. They absentmindedly put their hand over eirs. “It’s your turn, Diya.”

Diya uses eir other hand to awkwardly draw a card. You politely avert your eyes as eir other cards fall from eir hand.

“Shit!” ey whispers under eir breath. Greg shifts and Diya’s hand leaves their shoulder. Ey quickly reorganizes eir cards while Greg plays two cards.

“How are you always laying down cards? It’s been like five rounds since you drew anything!” You complain as you lie down a single card. You’ve yet to lose a game of cards to Greg and you’re disappointed that the streak might be ending soon. (You only lost to Diya in a fluke- you hate these luck based games. And you’ve never played with Barron.)

Greg stares at you emotionlessly. “Weird, isn’t it?”

Diya draws a card, then pauses. “Yeah! Hey, how many cards do you have?”

Greg hides their cards behind their back. “A normal amount.”

“You’re cheating!” Diya sounds absolutely delighted as ey make the accusation.

You gasp, pretending to be offended. “I can’t believe I’ve been playing with a cheater this whole time… For shame.” You dramatically toss down your cards. “I refuse to continue playing with someone who has so little respect for the rules of a card game!”

Instead of enjoying the moment, you are hit with a pang of sadness. You miss goofing off with Kitty and Puppy.

“You’re just glad you can quit with dignity instead of losing.” Diya says, giggling. You gasp again.

Greg gathers up the discarded cards and starts shuffling them. “We can start over, if you want. I won’t cheat this time.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“You shouldn’t. I plan on cheating again.”

“Aww!” Diya claps eir hands. “Look at you, breaking rules, being all rebellious. Being impolite.”

Greg shuffles the cards over and over and stares straight ahead. They give a small smile. It’s the first time you’ve seen them smile, and it feels… wrong. “My- my apologies.”

Diya’s face falls. “It’s good! Because you’re safe, and you know you’re safe, and we’d never hurt you because you didn’t follow some arbitrary rules. We’d never hurt you. I was just saying- y’know, you’ve grown a lot.”

Greg is incredibly tense. They smile bigger. “I know.”

You feel like you’ve intruded on a private moment. But both Greg and Diya have comforted you when you were freaking out, and you think that’s what’s happening with Greg.

“You’re- you’re okay. I wasn’t actually mad.”

Greg stares straight ahead, smiling. Diya shifts up next to them. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I just meant that I was proud of you.”

“I am grateful for your pride in me.”

“…Do you want to be alone for a while?” You ask. “It wouldn’t be… impolite, to leave.” You think it might help them if they can just worry about themself and not what you and Diya are thinking.

Greg abruptly stands up and walks out the door. Diya starts following, but you stop em.

“Are- are you sure? I mean, you know them better than I do, but you also said you have a hard time being able to tell when someone wants to be alone. And I think Greg wants to be alone.”

Diya is breathing fast. Ey’s afraid, you’ve never seen em afraid. “I shouldn’t have pointed it out- what was I thinking? They’re going to leave, they’re going to leave me all alone because I make everything worse and I’m going to get kicked out of here because no one wants to be around me-“

“Hey, hey, calm down, that’s not what happened.”

Tears stream down Diya’s face. When did ey start crying? “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Don’t go, don’t leave me alone in here!”

“In here? Are you talking about the cabin, or-“

Why does eir crying sound so much like yours? Are you shaking?

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You can’t tell who’s screaming. Is someone screaming? “I’m sorry, please! I’ll be good, I’ll be good!”

Wouldn’t it have been easier if you just obeyed the first time?

There’s blood dripping down your arms. When did that happen? Everything hurts.

Diya’s upset. How long has Diya been here? Did Jane hurt em? Is Barron hurting em? When did it get so dark in here?

Did you just say no to me?

Did you? You’re so confused and so so scared, she’s going to hurt you, Barron’s going to hurt you, you can’t protect Diya and ey can’t protect you, you’re going to be drilled into and cut open and Jane is going to skin Diya alive!

You don’t know what to do or where you are, there’s screaming and Jane laughing and you’re trapped, you’re trapped, you’re trapped, you’re going to get hurt and it’s your fault, Diya’s going to get hurt and it’s your fault, where’s Kitty? Where’s Puppy? “I’m sorry, I’ll be a good pet, please!”

Silly Bunny, you can’t stop this now.

It’s never going to stop. Its never going to stop, you’ll be trapped with her forever, it’s never going to stop.

Cute little Bunny. I’ll start with breaking your legs.

You scramble back wildly until you bump into something soft. There’s nothing soft in the basement.

Right, the couch. There’s no couch in the basement. It’s the couch in the cabin. You focus on emptying your lungs before taking another breath, then turn around and grab your blanket.

Diya is still crying and apologizing. You’re not going to be able to help em while you’re like this, and you’re not going to be able to calm down while ey’s like this. You have to leave.

Another deep breath. You feel the softness of the blanket, feel its weight. Empty your lungs before you take another breath. You try to find four things you can hear, but Diya’s crying does not make you feel like you’re in the present moment.

Keep your eyes open, Bunny.

Deep breath. Just do it. You sprint to the bathroom and lock the door. Diya wails.

You curl up under the blanket in the bathtub and cover your ears. Soft blanket, heavy blanket, empty lungs, deep breath, empty lungs, deep breath. You’re in the bathroom in the cabin. Jane doesn’t know where you are. Probably. Empty lungs, deep breath. Barron is at work, though you think it’s due to come home any minute. Empty lungs, deep breath.

You broke everything. Greg and Diya can normally calm each other down but you fucked it up. Everyone’s freaking out and it’s your fault.

Barron’s going to be mad. It’s been okay with you being here as long as everything stayed relatively normal, but now you’ve made everything worse. It’s put all this effort into protecting Diya and Greg and you ruined them, it’s going to break every bone in your body-

You hear the front door open, and you hear Barron’s voice, though you can’t tell what it’s saying. You can’t breathe. You curl up smaller under the blanket.

Diya’s crying slowly calms down as Barron softly murmurs to em. It doesn’t sound angry.

The front door opens again, and you hear both Barron and Diya leave. You relax a bit. You’re clearly not its first priority.

You think a small part of you wishes it would hurt you. Just so you don’t have to wonder anymore. It would be so much easier if you just knew what its deal was.

Maybe you should get out of the bathtub. It’s not safer than anywhere else. But… you feel safer, hidden under a blanket in the bathtub, and there aren’t a lot of places you feel safe.

The front door opens again, and you hear three sets of footsteps walk in. There’s more soft talking you can’t make out, and then a pair of footsteps approaches the bathroom door. You hold tightly to your blanket.

There are three quick knocks on the door. “Hey, Ethan.” It’s Barron. It sounds tired. “How are you doing?”

You don’t know what it wants. Should you say you’re sorry? Should you pretend nothing happened?

“You don’t have to leave the bathroom, but can you say something so I know you’re not bleeding out or something?”

“…I’m not bleeding out.”

“That’s good.” Barron sighs. “We’re all just going to fix our own dinner, so feel free to fix yourself something if you’re hungry. I mean, you’re always free to do that, I’m just letting you know there’s no need to wait for us to all eat together. Uh… I don’t want to pressure you, but this is the only bathroom we have, and if you’re in there… Does it make you feel safer because there’s a lock? My room has a lock, you can stay in there for a bit if you want. We can trade for tonight, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Why would it offer that? Nothing it does makes sense to you. Maybe Barron isn’t like Jane. “It’s fine, I’ll sleep on the couch. Can you just… give me a minute? Unless someone urgently needs the bathroom.”

“No, I don’t think so. Take as long as you need.” It goes quiet, but you don’t hear it walk away. It clears its throat. “I just wanted to say- you didn’t do anything wrong. Sometimes this stuff happens. We all have so many issues and triggers, and sometimes they end up in a chain reaction like that. It’s not anyone’s fault. We just work through the emotions that come up, and try again tomorrow.”

You nod, even though it can’t see you. Finally, you hear it leave.

Just work through the emotions that come up and try again tomorrow. You think, maybe, you can do that.

~~

Kitty fucked up. Kitty fucked up real bad. That’s all they can think, kneeling in the basement, as Jane approaches them slowly.

“There just hasn’t been enough pain lately.” She says softly. “Too much mind games, not enough pain to make them stick. Of course you’re not as afraid of me as you used to be. I’ve been lax. But we’ll fix that. We’ll fix that.”

They’re still bleeding from Jane’s earlier attack. They feel dizzy and cold. They don’t think they can take any more until those wounds are cared for. “Master. I am afraid of you. I do everything you ask of me, I follow your rules. I’d do anything you told me to. I have been good, I have been loyal, I’ve been everything you could want in a pet. I must’ve just forgot the key was on me.”

They don’t shake, their voice doesn’t waver. Their jaw is clenched and their eyes burn. “I am afraid of you.” They repeat. They aren’t making a good case for themself.

Jane laughs. “Not enough, not enough. Give me your hand.”

“Don’t act like you’re punishing me. Like you want this lesson to stick.” Kitty says, holding out their left hand. “I know you like me this way. You like having your bad pet who constantly needs to be shown their place. You like having someone with pride, someone you can still break down, someone who’s still ashamed to cower but you can make do it anyway.”

Jane just laughs. “Is that what you’ve been thinking this whole time? Oh, Kitty, I’d love nothing more than to break you down to nothing. It’s not hard to find people with pride, what I want from my pets is obedience. And fear. You should be so afraid of what I could do to you that you wouldn’t dare take risks like hiding things from me or insulting me. And you will be, you will be that afraid. This lesson is going to stick. You’re right, I’ve put up with your behavior because I found it entertaining. Unfortunately for you, it’s not entertaining anymore.”

Jane plunges a knife right through Kitty’s palm, and the tip of the knife comes out of the back of their hand. Kitty is screaming before the pain hits, and then it does, and oh fuck oh fuck it hurts, pain so intense that they can’t breathe around it, can’t think around it.

They were already lightheaded from blood loss. They were already in pain. Seeing the knife go through their hand, feeling the agonizing pain- that’s enough. It’s enough to push them over the edge. Their vision goes dark.

“Goddammit!”

~~

The next morning, the four of you sit in awkward silence as you eat omelets.

Barron adjusts its bracelets. “How are you guys doing?”

Diya groans. “Nothing is hurt but my pride.”

Greg stares at Diya. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Barron nods. “None of you should feel ashamed. This stuff happens. What can we do to handle situations like that in the future?”

Greg makes a huffing sound you’ve come to recognize as their laugh. “No more card games.”

“You don’t have to play card games if you don’t want to, but I don’t think banning card games is going to be very helpful to us as a group.” Barron says.

“It was my fault.” Diya says. “I should’ve just let you be, instead of pointing out that you would’ve been hurt if you did that when you were with Orchard. Obviously that would upset you.”

“It wasn’t obvious. I didn’t know that kind of thing would upset me.”

“So, something we can do going forward is asking permission before going into sensitive subjects. That isn’t always possible, but I think it would help to try. Any other ideas?” Barron asks.

You take a big bite of omelet so you won’t be expected to answer. You don’t have any ideas and you don’t want to talk about anything.

Diya answers again. “I need a plan for if I’m freaking out and none of you are available to help me. All of you guys can calm yourselves down when you’re alone and I… can’t. I mean, I’m not good at it. So I need a plan ahead of time. I think… I’ll make myself some tea, and try to read a book.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Barron says. “Any other ideas, or do we think that will be good for handling similar situations in the future?”

Diya looks at you and Greg. Neither of you say anything. “I think that’ll work.” Ey says.

“Awesome.” Barron gets up, taking its breakfast with it. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

It doesn’t have to do that, but it does. You don’t know why.

You get up and follow it into the hallway.

~~

Kitty wakes up far too quickly as Jane roughly cleans and bandages their wounds.

“New plan.” She says. “I’m going to give you something to keep you awake, so you don’t pass out on me again. While we wait for that to kick in, you’re going to sit still and be quiet while I punish Puppy. Sound good?”

Kitty can’t think of a snarky answer, and they probably shouldn’t anyway. “Yes, master.”

“Good Kitty. Hold still.”

They feel the familiar sting of a needle in their arm, and then Jane teleports over to Puppy and drags her by the hair to another room.

~~

“Wait.” You say. You feel like you’re watching yourself speak. “Are you just doing that so I can feel safe?”

Barron stops and turns around. “I wanted to see if it would help. Does it?”

“I don’t- this is your house. Why would you do that just for me?”

“I want you to feel safe.”

People keep saying that and it doesn’t make sense. “Why? What’s your deal? You know what happened to me, what happened to you?”

You’re fully prepared for Barron to say that nothing happened, it’s just a good person. Barron tugs on one of its bracelets and mumbles something.

“What?”

“I don’t remember.”

“…What?”

“I don’t really remember anything from before my early twenties, and a lot of the stuff after that is gone too.” It takes a deep breath. Its sounds like maybe it’s done this spiel before. “I get in this- this autopilot, and I don’t even notice I don’t remember /why/ I’m doing something, or what came before, and I don’t know if it’s magical or psychological or both- that’s why I put so much magical protection on this cabin. To avoid any mind magic, and to avoid the people who recognize me, because a lot of them… don’t like me.” It takes a bracelet off and twists it. “Does that satisfy your curiosity? Are we even?”

You weren’t expecting that at all. “…Yeah.”

Barron turns around and goes into its room.

~~

Puppy sits quietly on the floor. She didn’t understand, at first, why Master would take her to this room if she didn’t want to strap her to the table. She understands now. This room has a fireplace.

Puppy doesn’t watch whatever Master is doing. It won’t help.

Finally, Master approaches, holding a glowing hot coil of barbed wire. Master’s skin is blistered where it touches the metal. Puppy holds out her arms.

“That’s cute! Take off your clothes first.”

Puppy obeys and holds out her arms again. Master starts with her left arm, above the elbow to avoid ruining the brand.

Puppy has been burned before, has been restrained in barbed wire before, but this is new. She’s not used to the combination, and lack of experience always makes torture exponentially harder for her to handle. She resists the urge to shove Master away.

Puppy is very rarely jealous of her Master, but as the burning metal digs into her skin, she wishes they could trade places. She wants for all the pain she’s been through to mean she doesn’t feel it anymore, for her skin to heal the moment the metal stops touching it. She would take the immortality and boredom and despair and all of it, she would take all of it just to get away from the pain she’s feeling.

There is nowhere to go. No safe place in her mind, no sensation that doesn’t lead back to pain. All she can smell is burning flesh, all she can see is Master’s delighted face, all she can hear is screaming. And it gets worse and worse the longer the metal stays on her skin, the longer the barbs dig into her.

She stays as still as she can, to keep Master happy, to keep the pain from getting worse. She considers herself good at overriding her natural instincts. It doesn’t matter. She recoils and struggles against her will, and it only makes the pain worse. It doesn’t matter whether she tries to push Master away or not. Master is stronger.

It burns, it burns, it burns, deep into her skin and spreading far beyond where the wire is touching. Why can’t she pass out like Kitty? She’d be punished for sleeping without permission, but she wants the small break so bad it might be worth it. Unfortunately, as dizzying as the pain is, she is rooted firmly to consciousness.

Where’d Master go? She was right there-

Master reappears holding another coil of hot barbed wire and grabs Puppy’s right arm.

One arm down. Just the other arm and her legs and her torso left it hurts it hurts it hurts make it stop make it stop make it stop!

She can’t breathe, she can’t think, it hurts it burns make it stop, make it stop, it hurts!

She’s sorry, she’s so sorry. She should’ve let Master kill Kitty, should’ve minded her own business when she heard the screaming, should’ve remembered Master giving Kitty the key and made sure they gave it back. She’s sorry.

Puppy knows better than to beg, though. She knows better. She knows better. She would just get punished for speaking without permission. Punished more. Her screams remain wordless.

The metal on her left arm is cooling, but it doesn’t help. There’s still barbs in the burns. Could her blood be actually boiling? She doubts it, but everything burns and aches and nothing makes sense and she wants it to stop, stop hurting, she’s sorry! She wants it out she wants it off get it off please please Master please!

The words don’t reach her throat. She can only scream. Master is laughing.

Puppy’s vision goes completely white. Her neck is on fire. Her neck is on fire. Her neck is on fire.

“Keep your mouth open.” Master says, and there’s fire in her mouth and spikes so deep in her tongue she’s sure she’ll never taste anything but metal and fire and pain ever again. “I don’t want to burn your lips.”

She’s dying, she’s dying, she’s dying. She’s not dying and that’s worse, because this pain will never end never end never end.

She should’ve let Master kill Kitty.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else! I’m not so sure about the title but I couldn’t think of a better one lol

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @fuzzybucketz

[hopeslastchxnce]

[  NEEDED  ]  sender approaches receiver and kisses them longer and more passionately than they ever have before. 

THE   BUDDING  ROMANCE  PROMPTS 

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆ || @bonesrot

To say his relationship with Logan was complicated would be an understatement.

Logan, a man from a whole other timeline, had become something of a staple in the Xavier mansion now. The urgency Logan once had about freeing Erik and saving the world had died down quite a bit since his initial arrival. Charles often wondered if Logan's extended stay had caused the others from his time to perish, but then another voice would kindly point out that he was being too negative.

Charles still wasn't entirely sure how all of this time travel stuff worked, but he was fairly certain Logan had mentioned that it was some girl who beamed his subconscious back in time. Logan's form was solid --- as if he was much more than a faulty projection. And Charles would know all about astral projections given that he had the ability to do the same things. Regardless, you couldn't project from an unconscious body so wherever Logan's other self might have been, Charles had deduced that he was alive. Even so, Charles worried --- a lot. There was the issue of Logan's body. Just how long could the people on the other end keep this up? Or was their perception of time different? Has it been days or mere minutes on the other side? There was no way of knowing for sure, but it made Charles nervous, mostly for Logan's sake. And speaking of Logan…

Charles could feel him long before he entered the room, but it wasn't like Logan made much of an effort to still his thoughts. He was an open book though the man would argue differently.

"I'm a open book for YOU, Charles. Couldn't hide my thoughts from the world's most poweful telepath even if I wanted to."

He remembered Logan telling him a story about how they first met; about how easy it had been for Charles to dig around his head. He admitted that it was strange meeting this younger version of him and not getting that same sensation due to the suppression of his powers. At the time, Charles didn't care enough to let Logan's sentiments get to him but now? Those old sentiments were the other reason Charles worried so about the future. He had a bad habit of getting too attached to the wrong people sometimes although in Logan's case, it was completely by happy accident. But how even do you push away someone for good who knew you better than you knew yourself some days? Whether it was the older him of the future or the 'him' of today, Logan wasn't wrong. At Charles' core, he WANTED to be like the nice, optimistic guy in a chair several years from now, or even the guy he was shy of ten years ago -- the one that was always smiling.

But things had changed. And although Logan had been essential in helping Charles find a reason to stop drinking each day, there was still so much work to be done. He wasn't peak Charles yet, or rather, he wasn't the guy worthy of the way Logan was watching him from across the room. He wasn't worthy of that guy thinking about doing things he ought not even if it wouldn't be the first time.

And so Charles turned, full lips poised to stop Logan before he could act on the thoughts being projected only he was too late. The speed in which hands cupped his cheeks and drew him in made the telepath lose all train of thought. Gone were the many excuses he wanted to spit out about this being wrong. Logan likely knew them all, but it wasn't stopping him. At all.

Lips pull apart just briefly --- long enough for air until lips were claimed again --- devoured even by the guy who was becoming just as important as the other one likely tinkering in his lab at this hour. God how he hated unexpected attachments, but you wouldn't know it by the way his arms slowly welcomed Logan's intrusion, allowing the other male to guide him backwards against the counter.

This is wrong. We should stop. You're just going to leave like he did. I don't want to miss you too.

All of those things crept in his mind and likely spilled into Logan's own too. He couldn't be certain and couldn't be bothered trying to figure it out --- not when he felt like melting from the attention and the need Logan seemed to be pouring into him. It was this kind of thing that was making it hard for Charles to carry on as he used to. Logan believing in him --- believing he could grow into that great man he knew back home. The man had so much faith in him that at times it still seemed surreal. Even this moment felt surreal and yet it was happening, if his body's reaction was any indicator.

But if Logan's intention was to make Charles stop thinking for five minutes, he was slowly winning him over. The passion... the raw, aching need the kiss drew out of him, had him resisting the urge to push Logan away and instead, selfishly keep him close. He wanted to stay locked in his embrace so at least for now, he could pretend that they were made for each other; that this was right in every sense of the word. He wanted to pretend that Logan could be his forever even if that wasn't the case.

"Please... don't stop kissing me..."

[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

-Being The Duke’s Assistant- (3)

(a/n: some people really like this fic lol so here’s another chapter for y’all! also if you want a chapter 4 then please comment and reblog! otherwise I won’t have the motivation to keep writing more! thank you! <3)

–

-Learning About The Lords-

–

You’d seen more of your ex-neighbors since your run in with Vasile Kazloŭ the week previous. Seems word got around the village that you’d not in fact frozen to death or been caught and dragged into the woods by some snarling beast. And you knew a good few of them were just stopping by the Duke’s carriage under the guise of shopping just to see if those rumors were true. Not that you particularly cared what your ex-neighbors did now. If seeing you for whatever reason got them to buy something from the Duke then no skin off your nose. 

But today was different. Today the Duke said he’d be educating you on his biggest trade deals. Such deals being the Four Lords of the village. You’ll admit you gulped at hearing that. The four lords were quite notorious to the people of the village. And not for anything good despite what the fanatics would like to think..

Lady Dimitrescu, the mysterious lady who ruled the imposing castle upon the mountain that takes young women in to work but never lets them leave again. There’s a saying in the village that if a girl you know is going to work at Castle Dimitrescu then you should shower her in kisses since you’ll never see her again.

Lady Beneviento, the mysterious veiled doll maker who lives in a shadowy haunted manor that makes all those who enter there see their deceased family members. Seeing visions of the dead drives all who enter there to insanity. Most never leave, but the few who do are never the same as they were upon entering.

Lord Moreau, the monstrous looking recluse who controls the giant killer fish that has swallowed whole more than its fair share of poor fishermen of the village. It terrorized the workers at the Reservoir, devouring men like fish until they’d had enough and abandoned the site. It now sits in decay, waiting for the next fool to wander in.

Lord Heisenberg, the lord who owns the cryptic factory on the very edge of the village, where all the dead villagers bodies are sent and never seen again. Rumor has it that it used to be a coal mine but nobody living from the village has set foot in the rusted structure in decades. But despite this the factory’s smokestacks constantly billow dark soot into the sky.

Every villager knew of the four Lords. 

But apparently you were going to be learning more detail on them. Which you admit to not having much of. All you knew is what most every other villager knew. To be wary, be respectful, to pay your tributes, and do not draw attention to yourself otherwise. Those that drew attention were quite often known to draw their last breath.

The Duke it seemed was on good terms with each of the lords, at least you assumed so since he talked about them quite candidly. Not whispering their names in a hushed tone or with any amount of fearful reverence. Actually he talked about them as if they were just fellow business partners he has evening tea with. Which... well as far as you knew, could very well be the truth. But despite the Duke’s blasé outlook you felt yourself tense up when he mentioned how, as his assistant, you would be accompanying him on his future meetings with them, so it was best he told you about them now so you didn’t go in blind. Part of you wanted to just avoid that by not even going into the same building as the four lords. But the Duke squashed that thought by saying he couldn’t very well leave you to sit and twiddle your thumbs in the carriage while he was inside. 

Which you supposed you should have seen coming. You were his assistant after all. Where he goes, you go. It’s your whole job. So you steeled your resolve and took solace in knowing that while under the Duke’s protection you would be fine. you weren’t some random villager now thankfully. But even still... seeing the towering Castle Dimitrescu looming in the distance made you queasy. Your mind swam with the stories you’d been told as a child, warning you of what laid in that castle. The carriage drew closer to the imposing structure but you remained straight faced, not wanting to reveal how anxious you were. Plus, if you were being honest? This was all pretty exciting in a way! You’d left the village years ago sure, met lots of new people while you studied abroad. You learned about all the goings on of the world outside your simple village. But all of that paled in comparison to getting to meet the Four Lords.

You hoped you didn’t embarrass yourself..

-0-

While you got closer to the castle the Duke told you about the first Lord, Lady Dimitrescu and House Dimitrescu. Apparently they were famous for their incredible wine. The Duke even admitted to having a bottle of it himself stored away in the back. “For special occasions,” he told you with a smile. You also learned that House Dimitrescu also had their own vineyard where they grew all the grapes that went into the wine they made. He also revealed that there was a ‘rumor’ that Lady Dimitrescu had a very special bottle of wine in her possession, one that has belonged to her family for generations, that was called Sanguis Virginis. And its literal translation is "maiden's blood". The Duke was a touch vague on the wine, but he said that Alcina Dimitrescu has a secret process that enriches the wine’s flavor and gives it a thick bouquet. 

After that he began talking about the second Lord, Lady Beneviento and House Beneviento. The Duke spoke with a sad tone here, saying the Beneviento family slowly fell apart a long time ago. One by one the family members disappeared. And the current head of the household, Donna Beneviento, had a sister when she was a child, Claudia. But Claudia grew ill and passed away, causing her parents to grow depressed and soon after take their own lives, leaving poor Donna alone. The Duke knows Donna to be very kind, but also very lonely. She’s an incredibly skilled doll maker, even better than her father had been when he was alive. But she has trouble speaking with people without the aid of the doll friend, Angie, that her father gifted her as a little girl. He warned you that Angie could be a bit of a troublemaker, chuckling as he did.

Then came the third Lord, Salvatore Moreau of House Moreau. You raised an eyebrow when you noticed the small hint of revulsion in the Duke’s voice as he spoke about this lord. It seems that Moreau was... an odd one. The Duke tried to speak kindly of the man but even he, with his usual jovial outlook, couldn’t hide the slight way he cringed as he explained Moreau’s history. It seemed he had been a sailor at some point, and the very last of his family line, but some years ago he’d... changed physically to the point where he avoided people. He hid himself at the Reservoir his family owned and scarcely stepped foot outside of it. And after one too many... accidents there the workers abandoned the place, leaving Moreau alone to wallow in his self pity. The Duke warned you that Moreau did not look... human. And he asked you to please not stare at the man. He wouldn’t appreciate it, surely.

And then the final Lord, Karl Heisenberg of House Heisenberg. The Duke warned you that despite Lord Heisenberg’s rather casual sounding attitude, the man was quite harsh. And his factory was incredibly dangerous. He warned you to never stray from his side while there, for your own safety. You gulped but nodded as he continued. It seems the Heisenberg factory was a coal mining factory. You discovered that the Lord was an engineer, but the Duke revealed that he’d been known to tinker with things other than machines as well. That ominous note made your stomach drop. But you felt your anxiety lift a bit when the Duke told you that he was Lord Heisenberg’s supplier for a certain machine part he needs in bulk, so the man knew not to upset him. So you would be fine.

“But I think we’ll have to cut our conversation short, it seems we’ve arrived at Castle Dimitrescu,” the Duke said in a cheery tone you weren’t matching.

‘For any god listening to me... let us be alright,’ you thought helplessly.

-0-

[twokinkybeans]

MAKE IT LAST - STARKER MOB BOSS/COFFEE SHOP AU

HERE IT FINALLY IS! So, a few months back we did a prompt line fic thing. This means this one shot is wayyyy late, but it also got wayyyyyyyyyyyy out of hand and is now nearly 11k words long omg.

The prompt line @jeranasblog gave me was: "He had spilled his coffee on the suit of the most dangerous man in New York City." I hope you enjoy! <3 -Lien

Warnings: Adult!Peter Parker, Mob boss!Tony, Barista!Peter, No powers!AU, Peter is a little dense but we still love him, angst, fluff and smut, near the end there are some gruesome threats, abduction, guns, May is mentioned, Obadiah Stane is the bad guy, Bucky and Steve are there, Coffee Shop boss is an OC and has a gambling addiction. Smut tags: NFF, teasing, sexting, masturbation, orgasm delay/denial, hand job with much lube lol, hand & finger kink, praise kink, daddy kink, possessive kink, dry humping, finger sucking, anal fingering

Read “Make It Last” on AO3! Taglist: @the-secret-avenger ​@ironspiidey

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“Two minutes, Peter- hurry up!” Mister McDougall’s high pitched command reverbs through the coffee shop. In two minutes, it’ll be two PM on the Tuesday afternoon. Peter’s been working here for three years now. Just yet, he tried to quit, but that wasn’t taken kindly. He can still feel the eerie presence of the tip of a knife on his cheekbone. How Peter got himself stuck in this job is a long story. A very long one. You see, the owner of the coffee shop, Mister McDougall, made a deal with New York’s biggest mafia boss to be able to keep the shop and… He wasn’t able to pay back on time. Lucky for Mister McDougall, Peter was working when the Big Boss came to collect. At two PM. On a Tuesday afternoon. A few months ago...

The bell of the front door rang and Peter walked in from the back, smiling kindly. He greeted the rich looking man. “Good afternoon, Sir,” he said in his regular chipper voice. The man cocked an eyebrow over his sunglasses and pursed his lips. His neatly trimmed beard moved along with his expression and he sniffed once. “One black coffee to go,” the man demanded. Peter’s mood didn’t falter. He was used to stern customers, New York generally wasn’t a kind city. Peter smiled and nodded, immediately getting to work. It wasn’t a difficult one to make, after all. He’d ring this guy up in less than a minute. “You know what,” the man suddenly said. “Make that a caramel Frappuccino. Extra whipped cream. Drink here. Make it last.” Make it last? Peter wondered what the man meant with that. It was only then that Peter realized that the man was studying his every movement a little more closely than a regular customer would. It didn’t necessarily make Peter uncomfortable, though. The man was at least twice his age, but it was undeniable that he was the hottest man Peter had ever laid eyes on. Even though his eyes were covered by an expensive pair of sunglasses. Peter quickly moved to pour the milk, but the man’s deep voice filled the empty space again. “Make. It. Last.” Peter blinks, dumbfounded. “You… You want me to work slower?” The man then raised his hand to pull down his glasses slightly, so he could look Peter in the eye properly. Infinite whisky browns stared straight into Peter’s soul. “Yes.” “A-alright,” Peter stuttered and went back to work, tearing his gaze away from the man. If Mister McDougall were here, he’d kill him for working at this pace. But ah well, the customer is always right. The customer is king. And the man he was making the coffee for sure looked like he was in charge. Maybe he would leave a nice tip. “Where’s your boss?” There was a hint of annoyance hidden in the man’s voice. “Mister McDougall?” Peter replied as he turned to grab the caramel. “He’s at a convention on the other side of the country. Was pretty vague about it, to be honest. Something to do with beans.” “Beans,” the man scoffed. “Sure.” He rolled his shoulders and walked to the other side of the counter where Peter would ring him up. His eyes never left the young man. “And he left you in charge of the store on the day he knew I’d show up?” Peter glanced up from his work questioningly, but then shrugged. “Apparently.” “Do you know about our deal?” “Oh!” Peter exclaimed softly as he placed the large cup on the counter. “He mentioned he was working on a business proposal with someone, but I didn’t pry, cause this isn’t my store. I’m sorry, Sir, did he have an appointment with you?” The man gritted his teeth and pushed out his reply. “Yes.” “I could call him now? If you want?” A slight smirk crept up on the man’s face. “Please do.” Peter didn’t hesitate to grab his phone from his back pocket. There usually weren’t any other customers at this hour of the day anyways. He looked up the number of his boss and hit call. “Hey Pete-“ “Hi, Mister McDougall, there’s someone here to see you, but you must’ve forgotten your appointment.” The other end of the line stayed quiet and Peter pulled a face at the customer. “Sir?” More silence. “Do you want me to reschedule it for you?” “Peter,” the customer interrupted them. It didn’t matter how long Peter wore that name tag, he never got used to strangers saying it out of the blue. “Hand me the phone and go to the back. Mister McDougall and I can discuss our arrangement here and now, but I do require some privacy.” Peter blinked once. Twice. And then he slowly moved to give his phone to the man in the suit. “Don’t let your coffee go cold,” Peter said with a curt nod before rushing off to the back. He shuffled to the dishwasher and turned it on to give them some more privacy, the loud rumble of the water inside the machine drowning out any other sound in the back. Not even five minutes later, the man walked into the back with Peter’s phone in hand, a dark smirk plastered on his face. “Your phone,” he said politely, placing the piece of technology in Peter’s palm. Peter smiled warmly. “Thank you, Sir.” He walked passed the man back to the front. The man followed. “No, Peter, thank you,” he chuckled. He grabbed his coffee from the counter and sat down at one of the tables. “Did the arrangement work out okay?” Peter asked innocently. If this man was working together with his boss, it was probably smart to stay kind. Though, that wasn’t all that hard, somehow. There was something about him that lured Peter in- made him feel warm and at home. The man grinned even wider while placing his sunglasses on the table. “Perfect.” His smile turned sour after he took a large sip from his coffee. “Is- is something wrong?” “Eh, no. I’m not one for overly sweet coffees.” Peter swallowed a sassy reply. If he didn’t like Frappuccinos, why would he order one? “Would you like me to make you another one?” “Still got that black coffee there?” “Yes, Sir.” “Very good.” The man left, just as hoped, a big tip and walked out the door with a promise. “See you next week.” Somehow, that made Peter’s stomach tingle. He did want to see the man again. There was something mysterious about him. Alluring. Their conversations were interesting and surprisingly eloquent. The man was very smart and Peter found himself loosening up more as the chat went on. The man let him. It was nice. That night, when Peter wanted to message a friend, he wondered when he added “TS” in his contact list. He didn’t recognize the number, but he couldn’t be bothered to look it up either. From then on, every Tuesday at two PM on the dot, the man walked in. Mister McDougall was always nervous about his arrival and usually fled to the back, leaving Peter to take care of the customer. But more often than not, he’d leave Peter in charge of the store entirely, leaving for appointments or errands whenever the man was bound to come in. Peter learned the man’s name is Tony and their conversations were always pleasant. Interesting. They talked about Peter’s life, mostly. Tony always managed to make everything about the college student, earning his cash as a barista. Peter didn’t mind, but he couldn’t help that he was curious. Tony offhandedly said he worked in real estate, when Peter asked. That and ‘some other things.’ He learned Tony was a tinkerer and a scientist in his free time. That he enjoys fixing up old cars, modern art and what he called ‘a good fuck.’ The comment had Peter blush a bright red. A blush Tony would always compliment whenever it crept up to his ears. Something about Tony drew Peter in. Maybe it was their casual conversation. Maybe it was his compliments. Maybe even his smile? Though, Peter’s smile always faltered as soon as other customers came in, since Tony would usually leave the store when they did. One day, the customers appeared to be his employees. And they all stayed. Two men, both tall and wide. One was blond, clean shaven and the other had slightly longer brown hair and a trimmed beard. “So, this is your Tuesday retreat, boss?” the blond quipped before ordering an americano. “Shouldn’t you be working?” Tony sassily replied, leaning back in his chair. “Coffee break,” the brown haired man said simply. Tony scoffed and waved it off. The three men were awfully picky about what they said and how they said it, Peter could tell, but that might just be private business stuff, so he didn’t pry. After they finished their drinks and walked out the door, Peter blushed again when the brown-haired man spoke. “That sure was a good coffee. I’d come here every Tuesday too, if I knew I’d be served by such a good lookin’ young man.” The compliment was paired with a wink. The door closed and Peter laughed softly to himself when Tony gave the brown-haired man a gentle slap at the back of his head to scold him. … One Tuesday, Peter called in sick. He lived to regret that. Mister McDougall was furious, but Peter couldn’t help that he was down with the flu and he didn’t want to make other customers sick. Especially not the man he’d grown to like so much. He got a text, later. TS: Are you okay? Peter: Who is this? TS: Tony. TS: Black coffee Tony. Peter: Oh! Peter: Sorry, I wasn’t at the shop today. Caught the flu, I think. Hope not worse. Glued to bed rn. TS: Got it bad? Peter: Can barely stand, tbh. Coughing a lot and it sounds weird. Don’t wanna make anyone sick. TS: That’s sweet. Peter: Just lookin out for the little guy. TS: I’m not little. Peter: Didn’t meant it like that, omgg, im sorry! TS: I’m messing with you. Peter: Ohh 🙈 It was quiet for a little bit, and Peter nearly fell asleep again if it weren’t for his screen lighting up. TS: Can I get you anything? Peter: I’ll be okay, I promise. I’ll be fine. I mean it. TS: Peter. Tony wasn’t even in the same room as Peter, yet he knew exactly how Tony would’ve said his name if he were. Peter: I’m a college student. Meds are out of the picture. Don’t have much cash. TS: I do. And after not even half an hour, there was a doctor on Peter’s doorstep to check on him. Pneumonia in its early stages. A few days of antibiotics and he should be good as new. He wasn’t sure how Tony knew his address, but figured he got it from Mister McDougall. True to the doctor’s words, Peter was up and running again in a few days and on Tuesday, two PM on the dot, Tony walked into the shop with a wide grin and spread arms. “Good afternoon to my favorite barista,” he quipped. Peter grinned and cocked his head. “Good afternoon to my favorite customer.” “Oh,” Tony gasped, placing his palm on his chest. “You flatter me.” “Do I? With the tips you leave, everyone must like to see you.” “Most rather see me go, trust me.” Tony loudly cleared his throat and evaded Peter’s gaze to collect himself, before he casually leaned over the counter. “Black.” His coffee order is followed by his usual command. “Make it last.” “All I do is press a button, Sir, it’s pretty hard to make a black coffee last.” Peter laughed quietly as he started rubbing a cloth over the counter to clean it while the coffee set. “Then make yourself what you like.” Peter stared at Tony for a second before turning to grab another, taller cup. “Would you laugh if I said it’s a caramel Frappuccino.” He licked his lips. “With extra whipped cream?” “No,” Tony replied immediately. His voice was lower. Darker. Hotter. “It fits you.” “Does it?” Peter chuckled as he handed Tony the black coffee. “Overly sweet,” Tony said with a nod, toasting and raising the cup to his lips. He glanced at Peter and then repeated himself. “It fits you.” Peter slowly moved around the bar, preparing his own Frappuccino. “Thought you didn’t like caramel Frappuccinos?” “I like you.” Peter didn’t halt his movements as he worked himself around the coffee machines, though, his body went at a whole different speed than his brain. Did Tony actually just say that? “I think I like you too.” The reply had left Peter’s lips before he could even process the thought. “You think?” This time, Peter stopped. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” It was barely a whisper. His hand was stuck on the lever and he bit his lip. “Wha- dating?” Peter opted to ignore the implication of what Tony just said and instead, replied honestly. “Flirting.” “Oh, pretty boy, you’ve got a lot to learn. And experience.” Goosebumps spread over Peter’s body at Tony’s words and he closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was because he felt embarrassed or… Something else. This was the first time Tony called him anything like this and it felt like they both stepped over some sort of threshold they had both been ghosting by for a while now. Tony brought him back to the present with his trademarked sniff. “I have no need to rush things. If you’re interested, we’ll take it slow.” Peter finally turned his head to look at Tony with big eyes. Tony just smirked and quipped with a wink. “We’ll make it last.” … Peter: You up? It was two AM. Two Tuesdays later. Tony had become a lot more flirty and a lot more forthcoming with his sweet words and suggestive praise after they addressed their interest in each other. Most of it was via text, but whenever he was at the store, Peter could see Tony’s dilated pupils, could feel the man’s hot breath as Peter explained how one of the machines worked with Tony right behind him. He admired Tony for holding back too. He knew Peter wanted to take things slow, heck, he even suggested it. And he never snapped. Never broke. Never did anything out of line. Sure, his words were suggestive, but he never acted upon any primal needs. He was a gentleman. And it made Peter respect him even more. It also made him want Tony even more. Peter bathed himself in the compliments Tony peppered him with and Peter realized the man knew everything he said and did made Peter… Needy. Peter was fairly sure Tony was already asleep, but after all the sweet and… slightly filthy things the man had been saying to him that day, he couldn’t help himself, he had to jerk off. And he needed Tony to help him with that. TS: Been working. You’re up late. Don’t you have uni tomorrow? Peter sighed gratefully as he typed one handed, the other already creeping down to cup his half-hard shaft through his sweatpants. Peter: I do. TS: Hm. TS: Then why would you message me so late, huh? Peter wanted to scoff. Of course, Tony knew. The man just wanted Peter to say it. And… Peter kind of liked it. No matter how embarrassing. He typed and erased. And typed and erased. Typed and erased. He really wanted to send Tony what he wanted, but he felt like too much of a chicken to actually say it. He needed Tony’s sweet words. His… His filth. Peter: I’m,, eh… TS: Hm? Peter: Talk to me like you do in the shop? Please? TS: How I talk to you in the shop is a lot tamer than what I think you need right now. Peter hid his face in his pillow for a second, before taking a deep breath and finding the courage to reply. Peter: What do I need then? TS: You need me. Without a filter. But before I tell you anything… Where are you right now? What are you wearing? Talk to me, first. Peter: Alone. Bedroom. Bed. Sweat pants. T-shirt. TS: Turn off autocorrect, baby, how am I supposed to know you’re losing yourself if I see full words? Peter: happyy now? TS: Yes. One-handed, huh? Already touching yourself? Peter: mhm, thruogh fabric. TS: Alright, first things first, pretty thing, take off all your clothes. TS: Make it last. Peter complied immediately and he both loved and hated the slow movements he used to slide off his shirt. When his sweatpants were down on his knees, his screen lit up. TS: Are you making it last? Peter: yes TS: Good boy. Peter didn’t expect to moan so loud, but he did. The praise blasted through him and went straight to the cock that now rested against his abdomen. Stiff. Twitching. Leaking. Peter: say thatagain TS: Earn it. Peter: how TS: By being good for me, my sweet. Are you naked? Peter: almost TS: Let me know when you’re done. Peter was almost afraid that when he finally finished undressing after another minute, it was still too fast for Tony. He decided to make the jump, though. Peter: done TS: Lovely. Hard, baby boy? Peter let out a soft growl and was already struggling to type. Peter: ys, for you TS: Touch yourself for me. Go on, hump the hand you make my coffee with, Peter. It felt perfect – absolutely perfect – to wrap his fingers around his cock, now that he was doing it on demand. He couldn’t even hold back if he tried. His thrusts were relentless, straight away. Peter: Yyes yes TS: Oh, I wish I could see how pretty you look right now. How you roll your hips and fuck your fist. TS: Want to see the sweat drip from your temples, want to hear your soft gasps and moans. TS: Want to hear my name fall from your lips. Say my name, Peter. Say it. “Tony- O-oh-“ Peter gasped and he barely managed to keep his eyes open to watch the next few messages come in. TS: Don’t come. Not yet. TS: Slow down. Peter: nn tony please TS: Make. TS: It. TS: Last. Peter felt the tears stream down his cheeks. He felt so good. But he couldn’t come. Not with Tony right here with him telling him not to. Peter: yes sir TS: Good boy. Peter: feelsso good when u callme that TS: Mm. It does, doesn’t it? You know what makes me feel good? Peter: ?/ TS: When you call me Sir. A dreamy smile spread across Peter’s face as he lazily stroked his cock. His hips kept rolling, arching his back and lifting off the mattress with each thrust. His intellect had melted away. All he wanted was to feel good for Tony. TS: You know what else would make me feel really good? Peter: nno? Sir TS: If my good boy called me Daddy. Peter had to stop his hand or he would’ve cum right then and there. And he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He simply had to make it last. Instead, he moaned obscenely. Peter: ggod, nearlu came TS: Did you now? Peter: yes daddy Peter: held back TS: Oh, you’re so sweet for me. Wish I could taste that awful Frappuccino on your lips. Suckle on your tongue as I squeeze your cock, run my thumb over the head. TS: You have no idea how much I want to make you come for me. Peter: wanna cum for u Peter: faster?????????????/ TS: Speed up, baby. Show Daddy how desperate you are for him. Such a good boy for asking permission. The fact that Tony’s messages were still put together as opposed to Peter’s near button-mashes had another rush of arousal flow through Peter. Everything about what was happening was so hot. He’d never done anything like this before. He never even had sex in his life. And now the hottest man in New York was sexting him. God, he wished he could see Tony right now. Was he naked too? Was he stroking himself? Maybe he was fingering himself. Or fucking himself on a dildo so he still had two hands to type his coherent sentences with. Shit, that’d be so hot. Though, the image of Tony at his desk, working while casually messaging Peter all these things as if it’s just a regular chat about their day was even hotter. Tony, in his tailored suit, barely bothered by Peter’s desperation. Fuck. Peter: Yes yys ddaddy thanku TS: Mhm. It didn’t take long for Peter to get near the edge again. He was barely able to contain himself, phone shaking in his hand with every jerk of his other fist. Peter: close TS: Are you now? Peter: ya TS: Do you want to come? Peter: eys yes so badsoo bad TS: What do good boys say when they want to come? Peter squeezed his eyes shut, gasping and writhing on his sheets. His toes curled as he whined and begged while typing. “P-please-“ he muttered. “Please, please, please-“ Peter: pleease TS: Please, what? That’s it, Peter couldn’t type anymore. Didn’t want to type anymore. Instead, he hit the voice record button. “D-daddy, wanna cum, I wanna cum so bad, please, may I?” His lines were paired with moans and sobs. Desperation dripped from every word. Every thrust of his hips, every squeeze of his fingers, had him see stars. He had to come, he simply had to. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Lucky for Peter, it didn’t take long for Tony to reply with a voice message of his own. His deep, dark voice, coated with lust, like fresh honey, echoed through Peter’s simple bedroom. “Come, Peter. Come for Daddy.” … As time went on, Peter realized that Mister McDougall didn’t like to have Peter around anymore. Every chore he had to do, every command he had to follow, everything McDougall asked of him; he was never good enough. Peter felt like a nuisance. And he wanted out. He felt a weight fall off his shoulders when an on campus lab learned of Peter’s skills and offered him a job. So now, a few weeks after Peter and Tony started sexting, Peter told Mister McDougall he wanted to quit. “You can’t,” was the short reply. It had Peter nearly explode with frustration. “I can, though? I got a job offer in one of the labs on campus, I’m not letting this fly by!” Mister McDougall grabbed Peter’s shoulders and dragged him to the back by his shirt. He nearly flung the young man against the large dishwasher. “You’ll ruin me! You’ll get me killed!” “Don’t be so dramatic!” Peter yelled back. He was done working for Mister McDougall. So done. Peter swallowed his next words when a knife was suddenly pointed at his nose. He stared at it wide-eyed as he got ushered into a corner. “Tony owns this building, Peter, and the only reason I’m allowed to stay here is because you work here.” “Wha-“ “SHUT UP! You shut your mouth! I’d have fired you ages ago if it weren’t for him!” Tears pricked in the corners of Peter’s eyes. “If you leave, I’m going to pay your aunt a visit. And none of us will like what I’ll do to her.” What was happening? What was going on? Why did his boss threaten him like this? “S-sir?” “You’re not quitting, you hear me? You’re gonna get your ass back on the floor and you’re gonna do your job. As long as Tony doesn’t hate you, I can keep this business. You don’t want me to lose this business do you?” He waved the knife, pushing it towards Peter’s left eye and resting the tip right below it. The young man leaned back as far as the wall allowed him to. “Do you?!” Peter didn’t even dare to blink. “No, sir,” he lied. “Why are you so scared of him?” Mister McDougall laughed maniacally. “Why aren’t you?!” He yelled. “That’s Tony Stark! He owns sixty percent of New York!” The world stopped spinning. Tony - Peter’s Tony - is Tony Stark. The biggest, baddest Mafia Boss of New York. Known to be vile, relentless and cruel to anyone who dares to cross his path. And Peter… Peter had fallen in love with him. No. No, he didn’t. He fell in love with Tony. Not with Stark. But if they were one and the same, maybe the stories were wrong? Maybe- “You didn’t know?” Mister McDougall stepped back and let his arm down. Peter finally allowed himself to breathe, even if it was the worst intake of air he’d ever done. He held back his tears with everything he had. “No.” “Jesus Christ.” Mister McDougall threw his hands up, flailing the knife around. “You’re an idiot!” “But-“ A quiet beep came from McDougall’s wrist. He looked at his watch and turned. “Two minutes, Peter- hurry up!” Mister McDougall’s high pitched command reverbs through the coffee shop. In two minutes, it’ll be two PM on the Tuesday afternoon. Peter’s been working here for three years now. Just yet, he tried to quit, but that wasn’t taken kindly. He can still feel the eerie presence of the tip of a knife on his cheekbone. How Peter got himself stuck in this job is a long story. A very long one. “Get to work.” Peter swallowed and blinked away his tears as he walked into the front of the store. He took a deep breath and fumbled with some of the cups on the counter. Mister McDougall stayed in the back, as usual. Peter looked up, startled, when the bell rang. Tony walked in, blissfully unaware and leaned on the counter like he always did. Peter was bad at hiding his fear, he knew that, and it didn’t even take a second before Tony caught on. “Did you cry?” His question was blunt. Straight to the point. “I’m alright, I hit my head.” Peter had to pause to clear his throat in the middle of his sentence. His words were small. Unsure. Tony didn’t buy it. “Who hurt you?” A shiver ran up Peter’s spine. He couldn’t tell Tony about what Mister McDougall did to him. As much as he disliked the man, he didn’t want the deadliest man in the area to… To hurt him. Peter didn’t dare think of the k word. But more importantly, he didn’t want anything to happen to May. “Me,” Peter tried to sound cheerful, but his voice shook. “I hit my head. I hurt me.” Peter finished up the black coffee and turned to give it to Tony, so he could start making his own Frappuccino. Tony wanted to take his hand, but Peter swiftly turned around. He played the machine to make his own drink, but he couldn’t focus. He couldn’t make it last. He had to get it done. As fast as possible. He had to get this over with. Tony spoke, but Peter didn’t hear it. He could already feel the tears threatening to glide down his cheeks. He couldn’t pretend. He couldn’t- Tony grabbed Peter’s wrist from over the counter and the Frappuccino cup slipped from the barista’s fingers. Peter stared wide-eyed at how the scorching hot liquid gushed onto Tony’s suit. The stain was evident, but Tony seemed unfazed by the heat. Peter’s lip trembled and he was certain there was no oxygen left in the store. He had spilled his coffee on the suit of the most dangerous man in New York City. Peter barely dared to look up, but when he saw Tony’s expression, his shoulders fell. The way the man looked at him was… Vulnerable. “You’re afraid.” Tony’s voice was fragile. “Of me?” Peter squeezed his eyes shut, letting the tears flow freely now. He screwed up. He screwed everything up. “I don’t know,” Peter replied honestly, through quiet sobs. Tony swiftly jumped over the counter so he could embrace Peter. “Talk to me, Bambino.” “I- I didn’t know-“ “Didn’t know what?” “S-Stark-“ “Yes, Frappuccino, that’s me.” “Did you just call me-“ “Yes, did it make you feel better?” Peter scoffed, but managed to smile. “A little.” Tony then pushed Peter away from him to force the young man to look him in the eye by holding Peter’s chin between his thumb and index finger. “Did you really not know?” Now Peter feels stupid. He should’ve caught on, obviously. Everybody knew Tony Stark. Peter pushed his lips together and gently shook his head. “Oh, bother,” Tony mumbled as he pulled Peter against his chest to hug him tightly. Peter’s insides were in a struggle. Every part of his rational brain told him to get out of there. To push Tony away. The man was bad news. He reeked of danger, yet… He smelled so wonderful. His cologne invaded Peter’s nostrils and there was no way the young man could let go of him. The way his arms were wrapped around Peter’s shoulders, the way he held him, kept him warm and safe... No matter how frightening Tony might be, Peter felt protected. He was exactly where he was supposed to be. Peter’s face was pressed against Tony’s shirt and he could feel the wet coffee stain from Tony’s suit seep onto his own pants. A hand found its way into Peter’s hair and gently started massaging his scalp. The soft lips Peter had only imagined up until now, pressed themselves onto his curls and stayed there, leaving long, slow pecks. Sometimes, Tony hummed. With every passing second, Peter’s muscles relaxed more and more until his body practically went limp against Tony’s. “Now…” The man finally spoke. He gently pushed Peter away from him until he could look Peter in the eyes, hands cupping his face. His thumb gently stroked away the drying tears and he smiled kindly. “Who hurt you?” Peter’s pouting lips were pressed together. He tried to hide the truth, but one quick glance towards the back and Tony knew enough. “Please, don’t kill him,” Peter whispered. Tony scoffed softly. “Is that why you’re suddenly afraid of me?” Tony pushed forward slightly, until something long and hard pressed against Peter’s thigh. And it wasn’t Tony’s cock. “Cause I’m not just happy to see you?” Peter whimpered and closed his eyes, still not wanting to leave Tony’s embrace, even though he was afraid of what might happen next. “Do you know why I own 64.7 percent of New York?” Peter shook his head lightly, focusing his attention on Tony’s warm hands still keeping his face up by his cheeks. “Because I don’t just shoot whoever gets in my way. I give people a chance,” Tony said matter of factly. “Take your boss, for example. This building? It’s mine.” The way Tony enunciated the word, not just verbally but also with a soft squeeze of his hands, had a shiver run down Peter’s spine. “Ex-gambling addict who wanted to get back on track. Promising fellow. Clean for years. He loaned a chunk of my money to start his business. All was good. A thriving coffee store can make quite a bit of money in this area in New York. During my first visit I learned that not everything I offered him went into this shop. Told him I wanted the money back that he didn’t spend on the store. He also couldn’t pay rent. Somehow.” Peter breathlessly listened to everything that came out of Tony’s mouth. “I gave him another shot. Told him to have my money ready in a month. That’s a fair time to make what he owed me. And when I came into the store to collect… I found you. And your boss? Well, he wasn’t exactly at a convention. He was at the other side of the country, though. In Vegas.” Tony sighed and broke eye contact for a few seconds. “This is where it gets embarrassing…” He mumbled. “Embarrassing?” “I was completely enamored by you, Peter.” Tony’s eyes reconnect with Peter’s and they lock gazes. “And I decided that, when you called McDougall, I’d change the deal. He’d get a delay on his debt as long as you would be there to serve me coffee. On Tuesdays. At two PM. Figured you’d stick around for a while, give McDougall enough time to cover his ass.” “So,” Tony cocked his head. “After half a year, he still doesn’t have my money. And I’m guessing you want to quit the job?” Peter nodded, face contorting. “He had a knife and-“ “A knife?” The energy in the room changed abruptly. From loving and caring to dark and aggressive. Peter immediately pulled back, but Tony’s grip on him tightened. “He threatened you?” He seethed. “No- Tony, please,” Peter begged, but he didn’t fight. “Is he in the back?” Tony stared Peter down with an intense gaze. The young barista froze. “Peter.” “Yes.” Peter felt small, yet his body betrayed him when his cock stirred at Tony’s authoritative voice. Tony guided Peter to one of the chairs and gently sat him down. His hands caressed Peter’s curls before he pressed another kiss on top of them. He bent down until he squatted in front of Peter and looked up reassuringly. “I will not physically harm him, I promise. I just want to have a word with him, okay?” “Okay…” Tony smiled and nodded before standing up and making his way towards the back. Before he disappeared, Tony looked behind him one more time and winked at Peter. Probably to relieve the tension. Not long after Tony went to the back, Peter was startled by the doorbell. He looked up and quickly collected himself before greeting the customer, wiping the remainder of his dried tears away. “Good afternoon, Sir, how can I help you?” Peter barely managed to put up his customer smile. The man was a bit scruffy looking, dark haired and he had a slight beard. There was a strange look in his eye. Peter wanted to walk around the counter to his usual spot to take the order, but the man stopped him. “Hold it there.” Peter paused his trek and turned back to the man with a questioning look. The man suddenly bolted for him, but Peter realized too late he was holding something in his hand. Peter tried to yell but before any sound could leave his mouth, it was covered by a damp cloth. His eyes went wide as he stared straight into the other man’s. He had no choice but to inhale the strange and intense, sweet scent of whatever was in that piece of fabric. The man didn’t smile, nor did he look angry. He seemed rather indifferent. The man’s other arm wrapped around Peter’s body, right before he lost the strength in his muscles and dropped against the man’s chest. Peter’s mind suddenly felt over-stuffed with fuzz and it was only a few seconds before his muffled scream died out and his eyes rolled back. Right when Peter lost himself, the man spoke softly, with a mocking tone, before carrying him out of the coffee shop. “Night night.” … Peter’s head felt like it was going to burst. He could barely open his eyes, but the hand that pulled him back at his hair in the uncomfortable chair forced him to wake up. He gasped for air, squinting his eyes into slits in the bright light. “Wakey, wakey.” A dark voice echoed through the room, ringing Peter’s ears. He finally managed to open his eyes when the light was blocked by a shape. A person. “Eh…” A soft whine escaped Peter’s lips, but the sound wasn’t taken kindly. The person- man- yanked at his hair, causing Peter to wince in pain. The man was bald, but had a thick beard. A scowl pulled the strangers bushy eyebrows together and Peter’s entire body tensed when he spotted the gun in the man’s other hand. “So…” The man leaned in and cocked his head. “All this trouble for a twink.” Peter tightened his jaw even further and kept his lips glued together. The man quite forcefully let go of Peter’s hair, allowing Peter to take in his surroundings. They were in a plain room, nothing too interesting. Peter could hear seagulls outside. They were probably close to water? The door was guarded by two imposing looking men, one of them Peter recognized as the guy who took him out. In the darkness of the room, a camera seemed to be recording them, judging by the red light flickering in the corner. “Barista,” Peter mumbled, staring at the gun in the guards’ hands.. “Excuse me?” The man pushed into Peter’s space again, seemingly offended. Peter held his breath, but replied anyways, eyes locking with the bald man’s. “I’m just a barista.” “Just a-“ the man interrupted himself, put his hands on his hips and leaned back, letting out an over the top laugh. When he finally calmed himself again, he bolted forward, pressing the gun against Peter’s neck. The young man instinctively tilted his head up, eyes wide at the unexpected aggression. “You,” the man spit out accusingly. “Tony seems to think more of you.” “He doesn’t,” Peter bluffed, silently swearing at himself for his reckless bravery. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. “I just make his coffee. Black. Every Tuesday.” “Right,” the man scoffed and revealed Peter’s unlocked phone from his inner pocket. “And does just making his coffee include a happy ending?” “N-no-, it’s-“ “Nighttime sexting? Then?” The man sauntered around Peter, casually scrolling through Tony’s and Peter’s chat. “Was hoping to find some intel, but all I got was your disgusting conversations.” Peter swallowed hard. He angled his head to look down so that he wouldn’t have to meet the man’s judging eyes. “I’m not gonna lie,” the man sighed. “Those voice messages? Your moans? They’d rile up anyone.” Peter gently tugged at his restraints, pressing his eyes shut. To say he was afraid of what the man could and might do to him was an understatement. The thought alone paralyzed him. There was a pressing ache in his chest and a growing need to get out of there. If only he could move. “What do you want from me,” Peter managed to push out. The man chuckled darkly. “I want at least 75% of what Stark has.” The man stopped circling Peter to gently push the tip of his gun through the young man’s hair- toying with it. “And you’re going to make sure he gives it to me.” “As if,” Peter replied simply, immediately swallowing his confidence. It now weighs heavy in his stomach. One short glance at the guards made them leave the room. They shut the door behind them and Peter couldn’t help but hold his breath. “Tell the camera-“ The man gestured at the red flashing dot. “-Tell Tony- what to do. If he doesn’t give me what I want, I will take what he wants most.” Peter looked up at the man confused, but the man’s smirk made the student’s legs burst with adrenaline. He wanted to run away, but he couldn’t. He’s bound. The man’s eyes sparkled and turned to slits. The wide toothy grin plastered on his face had Peter’s heart drop. “You.” “Oh, don’t worry about that ol’ camera.” A familiar voice said from the door opening. Peter and the man turned their heads towards it surprised. There, Tony lazily stood against the door post, the two men that Peter had met one Tuesday accompanying him. The guards that were there before were now laying on the floor. Peter quietly hoped they were nothing more than unconscious. “You can ask me, right here, right now, Stane.” Tony absentmindedly studied the pistol in his hand, turning and twisting it. Loading it. “Tsk. Answer’s gonna be no, though.” He moved to stand up straight, confidence oozing off every inch of him. “I’m here to take back what’s mine.” A shiver ran down Peter’s spine and he gulped when the gun that was still aimed at him pushed under his jaw. He dropped his head backwards in an attempt to get away from it and whined quietly. Peter’s breath quivered and he squeezed his eyes shut again. “If you want your boy to live, you’re gonna do exactly what I want.” “Hmm.” Tony grinned. “If you put a bullet in his head, I’m not even gonna use my gun.” He squared up, tightening every muscle in his body. The look in his eye was dark and resolute. “Will let you pick how you go, though. Could snap your neck- stick a knife through your brain. Wiggle it around a little to make your corpse spasm. Heck, I’ll rearrange your guts first if you want me to. Bet that’ll feel real nice.” Peter could barely believe the words falling from the man’s lips were Tony’s. Apparently, neither could the guy Tony called Stane. “You’re all talk, Stark. Never seen you hurt a damn fly, that’s what you got your goons for,” Stane sneered accusingly. “First time for everything,” Tony replied collected. Stane then pulled loose the ropes around Peter’s body and pulled him up, forcing him to stand with his back flush against the man’s chest. Stane wouldn’t allow him to stand comfortably, keeping him up on his toes as the nuzzle of the gun pressed up under his chin. As free as the lack of ropes made Peter feel, the presence of the gun annihilated any feeling of liberty. “Obadiah, I swear to mother Maria, if you so much as leave a scratch on Peter, you will regret it.” Stane didn’t seem fazed by Tony’s threats. He had the upper hand after all. He had Peter. “We’re leaving now. Don’t think I won’t shoot. I will.” Peter complied the nudge in his back, taking small steps in the direction of the door. Obadiah moved the gun until it rested against Peter’s temple. “Step into the room.” Tony’s jaw tightened, but after a few seconds he cast his eyes downward, entering the space. His bluffing hadn’t worked and the soft shaking of his clenched fist betrayed his frustration. He genuinely seemed afraid to lose Peter. In return, Peter was afraid to lose him. The two men Tony had brought with him, joined him silently. When they were all far away enough from the door, Obadiah shuffled Peter to the opening. They reached the hallway and Stane forced Peter to step over the – hopefully – unconscious guards. All Peter could think was ‘No-no-no-no-‘ at the mere idea of being taken to another location. One Tony might not be able to find him at. One he might actually die at. Peter took a deep breath and decided to do something reckless. He could only die once anyways. The second Obadiah pulled the gun back a little to give Peter more walking space, the barista ducked away from the gun, pivoted on his feet and pushed Stane back into the wall with all the force he had. There was a gunshot. One that had Peter’s eyes go wide. With the lack of pain or blood, Peter realized Stane had missed. Adrenaline pumped through his body at an incredibly rapid pace. Peter fell backwards on his ass and saw Obadiah’s gun that had been dropped in the process. The student scrambled to grab it in a reflex. He pushed himself back against the wall, knees up, eyes unblinking and wide, as he aimed the gun two-handedly at Stane who laid there with his hands up. The feral look in Peter’s eye told the small gang leader enough. No matter how scared, this kid would shoot if he had to. Peter couldn’t blink. He just couldn’t. He barely heard the footsteps next to him. Barely felt a hand rest on his shoulder, as another lifted to be placed on Peter’s shaking hands, holding the gun. All Peter could do was stare at Obadiah, stinging tears nearly obstructing his view. His breathing was quick and erratic and he didn’t realize how much he was vibrating until Tony’s voice pushed through the veil, clouding his mind. “I need you to let go of the gun for me.” Peter only clutched the weapon tighter, his finger twitched on the trigger. His breathing was loud and fast, making his entire body buzz with tension. “Boss, he’s in shock, he won’t-“ “Peter,” Tony said a little softer. “I’m right here, Frappuccino, look at me.” The hand that was on his shoulder before, now cupped Peter’s chin, gently forcing him to turn his head. Peter’s eyes didn’t leave Obadiah, though. He held his breath, hearing his heartbeat thump in his brain. “Peter…” For the first time in what felt like forever, Peter blinked, which caused the tears that had been threatening to spill up until now to glide down his cheeks. He found himself staring at Tony’s face as his body slowly lost tension. The man’s brows were furrowed, but his expression was soft. He carefully took the gun out of Peter’s hands and pulled him in for an embrace. Peter hid his face against the man’s chest and couldn’t help but sob into it, adding another stain to Tony’s expensive suit. “Oh, Peter.” Tony’s voice was muffled against Peter’s hair. “You’re okay, we’re okay.” Just like he did earlier that day in the coffee shop, his fingers tangled in Peter’s hair and started massaging his scalp. “You’re with me now, ‘s all good.” Another time, Peter would’ve been embarrassed for being pulled into Tony’s lap in front of all these strangers, but right now he couldn’t care less. His arms wrapped tightly around Tony’s torso as the man left his dragged out, flat kisses on Peter’s head. “M-sorry,” Peter mumbled between sobs, curling up into Tony’s embrace and tugging in his legs. “Sorry-“ “Ssh, ssh- you have nothing to be sorry for, my sweet.” They stayed like that for a short while, Tony rocking Peter back and forth until his heartbeat settled and his muscles relaxed. Eventually, Tony stood up, carrying Peter bridal style. “Let me take you home.” … Peter woke up among the softest of silk sheets, surrounded by an abundance of throw pillows, wearing nothing but his underwear and an oversized white T-shirt with a V-neck. Everything smelled like Tony. Peter groaned at the stiffness of his muscles and turned around, half surprised by Tony sitting on an armchair next to the large canopy bed. “Morning, sunshine,” he said with a smile. Tony was wearing sweats and a similar T-shirt. The corners of Peter’s mouth curled up too and he instinctively folded into himself, pulling the sheets up to his chin. “Morning.” “How are you feeling?” Tony leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Little stiff,” Peter answered honestly. As if on cue, his stomach growled. “And hungry.” “My cook’s making us breakfast as we speak. Should be here soon.” “I knew you were rich, but a personal chef?” Peter chuckled. “Isn’t that a bit overkill?” “Look, kid,” Tony laughed, sitting up straight again. “I don’t have time to make my own meals. I’m a busy man.” “Busy enough to visit me every Tuesday at two,” Peter teased, the sparkle in his eyes evident. Tony seemed relieved Peter was acting like his usual self. “Hey, hey,” he said, shaking his head. “I scheduled in that time. I always wanted you to have my undivided attention. That was my me-time.” Peter’s smile faltered. “Was,” he parroted quietly. There was no way he could go back to his barista job. To mister McDougall. Not that he particularly wanted to work for that man anymore, but it felt like this pleasant chapter of this life ended with a terrible cliffhanger. Now, Peter was at the start of the next chapter, going through the repercussions of what happened before. “Pete, I-“ “Where are we?” Tony seemed taken aback by the interruption, but collected himself swiftly. “Home,” Tony replied matter of fact. “My home, to be precise.” He cleared his throat and looked away uncharacteristically shyly. “Could be yours too if you want.” Peter didn’t reply straight away, which caused Tony to stand up and raise his hands in a defensive manner. “But we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves.” There was a knock on the door and Tony cocked an eyebrow at it. “Breakfast,” a muffled voice spoke. “Come in.” A man with a giant tray opened the door. He walked in quickly and placed it on the table next to Tony. “Take the rest of the day off. Paid leave. Tell the others the same, save for the guards outside. I want this house empty within an hour.” The cook nodded and thanked Tony for his generosity. Not long after, Peter and Tony were alone again. Peter stared at the over-filled tray and licked his lips. “Anything that tickles your fancy?” Tony’s words are accompanied with a smirk. “A coffee sounds good right about now.” Tony immediately perked up and turned to grab the carefully made Frappuccino, but before he could curl his fingers around the cup, Peter continued: “Actually-“ Tony looks at Peter surprised. Peter grins and nods at the other cup on the tray. “After everything that happened, I could go for something stronger.” “Peter Parker, are you taking my black coffee from me?” Tony chuckled. Peter pulled himself up so he sat up straight among the throw pillows. He then reached forward with both arms, making grabby hands at Tony. “Mayyybe,” he teased. Tony laughed as he complied, handing Peter the black coffee. Peter gratefully took a sip and pulled a face at the bitterness burning his throat. “Sure you don’t want the sugar, sugar?” Peter snorted and nearly spilled the coffee on the bed. He looked into the deep black of the cup in his hands and then up at Tony. “Fine,” Peter said with a grin, offering Tony the black coffee. Peter waited for the older man to give him the Frappuccino, but instead, Tony stood up. “Here,” he said, lifting the tray and placing it on the bedside table. “Mind if I join you?” Peter didn’t answer, he just lifted the sheets. Gratefully, Tony slid in, placing himself flush against Peter and handing him the Frappuccino. For a short while, they just sipped their coffees, not exchanging any words. Peter occasionally glanced at the food on the bedside table, unable to choose where he’d even start. He let go of his thoughts for a little bit, letting his mind wander to yesterday. To Obadiah Stane, to the rope burn on his wrists, the feel of the gun against his head, in his hand, the trigger under his finger. Tony. Tony was there to save him. “I’m here to take back what’s mine.” Peter was his. And while his rational brain was scared of this mob boss side of Tony that he only just learned about, there was something exhilarating about it too. Tony was still Tony- still the same man Peter made all these black coffees for, the man he had late night conversations with via text. Peter thought back to before he lost himself to sleep, how he was being cradled by Tony, sitting in his lap. The memory made him feel warm, somehow. Peter swallowed and took a breath. “I felt safe,” Peter whispered. “Hm?” Tony turned his head slightly and put down his now empty cup on the nightstand. “Yesterday.” Peter’s brows furrowed as he kept staring ahead. “In your lap.” He paused, trying to put his thoughts in a row and say something a bit more sophisticated. However, he couldn’t think of the right words, so he just repeated himself. “I felt safe.” It was quiet for a second. “Do…” Tony sniffed once and tugged at the tray on Peter’s side of the bed. “Do you want to sit on my lap now?” Peter’s mouth went dry, even though he just finished his coffee. The tension between them hung thick in the air. He looked at Tony wide-eyed, but quickly averted his gaze again. “Yes,” he mumbled, nothing more than a whisper. “What was that?” “Yes… Please?” “Good boy.” Peter shivered and closed his eyes, but only until he felt Tony gently pulling at his arm. He didn’t struggle as Tony guided him to sit on his thighs, back pressed against the older man’s chest. “Oh, Bambino,” Tony cooed as Peter’s ass pressed against Tony’s already hardening shaft. “Been through so much. Let me help you.” Peter wanted to ask what Tony meant, but the man had already taken the mug from Peter’s hands, placed it on the bedside table and grabbed a blueberry muffin from the breakfast tray. “Hold this,” he ordered, giving the muffin to Peter. Their hands grazed past each other, eliciting a small gasp from the younger man. Tony immediately moved to rip a small piece off of it and brought it up to Peter’s lips. Peter stared entranced at Tony’s rough hand. “Go on, my sweet,” Tony whispered into Peter’s hair. “Eat up.” Peter leaned in and opened his mouth. He carefully maneuvered himself in an attempt not to touch Tony’s fingers, not wanting to be weird or gross, but Tony had other plans. He pushed in his fingers to help the piece into Peter’s mouth and then brushed his fingers over Peter’s lips. Peter didn’t realize his eyes were closed, but there wasn’t much to see anyways- save for the lusciously decorated room. Peter was more occupied with feeling right now. And boy, did Tony’s lips on his neck feel absolutely perfect. He chewed slowly, savoring the sweet taste on his tongue. Tony’s free arm was possessively curled around Peter to caress his neck from the front, grazing past his Adam’s apple and gently squeezing right under his jaw until he swallowed. Tony presented Peter with another bite, but this time he really pushed his fingers in. Peter wrapped his lips around the digits and sucked, moaning softly. “That’s it…” Peter absentmindedly spread his legs on Tony’s lap, arching his back to grind into Tony’s groin. Tony’s other hand found its way down Peter’s body until it cupped Peter’s balls through his underwear. Peter immediately pushed into it and gasped at the gentle rubbing of Tony’s thumb. “Thaaat’s it…” Tony took his fingers out of Peter’s mouth, a small string of saliva dripping down, to take the muffin out of Peter’s hands, put it on the tray and then stick his fingers into the small bowl of jam. His other hand fondles Peter at a steady rhythm and Peter rolls his hips along with it. “Feeling good for Daddy, Peter?” The young man smiles lazily and nods, letting his head fall back against Tony’s shoulder. “Y-yes,” Peter whimpered. “Feels so good.” An overly sweet scent filled Peter’s nostrils. He opened his eyes to see Tony’s jam covered fingers. He stared at them transfixed, mouth already opening, tongue hanging out, ready to take it all. “Atta boy,” Tony whispered, suckling on Peter’s skin. “Don’t hold back. It’s all yours…” Peter didn’t hesitate and grabbed Tony’s hand with both of his own, pulling it toward him to lick the sweet strawberry jam off of Tony’s fingers. The fingers of one hand were curled around just the thumb, while the other gripped onto the man’s palm. “Don’t hold back,” Tony repeated with a squeeze of his hand around Peter’s clothed cock. The young man immediately moaned louder, pressing himself against Tony harder and licking the man’s fingers clean in a near-obscene manner. “Aren’t you a good boy?” Tony growled as he slowly started to push up against Peter’s ass. Peter groaned and clenched around nothing, working his way down Tony’s hand and suckling at the golden ring on his index finger. “Yours,” Peter gasped between licks. “Your good boy-“ Apparently those were the right words, because Tony let out a guttural moan and within seconds, they were flipped over with Peter lying on his back on the bed and Tony possessively hovering over him, caging Peter with his arms. Peter was met with Tony’s dark pools and twitching nose. There was something animalistic about the otherwise so collected man Peter had served coffee to. It had Peter’s cock throb with anticipation. Tony’s wet fingers pushed under Peter’s shirt to tweak and tug at one of his nipples. “Mine,” Tony pushed out, immediately moving in to ravage Peter’s lips himself, tasting the flavors Peter had only just taken in. Peter, in turn, could taste the bitter coffee. “My sweet.” Peter pulled at Tony’s shirt, quietly telling Tony he wanted them to get naked. The man seemed to understand and within a minute all clothes were discarded. Tony’s cock stood tall and proud and had a girth that had Peter drooling. He wanted it in his mouth. ASAP. “Eager, eager,” Tony chuckled darkly as he saw Peter’s eyes locked on the swaying dick in front of him. Peter’s gaze broke free and he gave Tony a pleading look. “Next time, my sweet.” Tony leaned in to give Peter a short, passionate kiss while his hands squeezed nearly half a lube bottle all over Peter’s groin, slicking him up as Tony massaged every inch of skin. Peter immediately granted Tony access into his mouth and Tony eagerly licked the insides. He pulled back again and grinned. “You first.” Tony’s free hand grabbed hold of Peter’s cock, squeezing it until Peter saw stars. His hips bucked up into Tony’s touch while his hands grabbed at the sheets in an attempt to ground himself as Tony’s hands pleasured him. He moaned with every loudly-squishing jerk of Tony’s hand, but it wasn’t going fast enough. “More-more-more, please, Daddy-“ Tony seemed pleased with the begging, because the hand at Peter’s nipple slowly travelled down his toned body, grabbing and coating itself with the excess lube. “Sure you want more?” Tony had a wicked grin on his face. “Cause I can give you everything.” He curled his tongue up to lick his own teeth. “If you think you can handle it.” “Yes,” Peter gasped, arching his back more, pressing his head into the throw pillows. “Please, please, want everything, want it all, want you-“ “Good answer.” Tony’s praise goes paired with him mercilessly pushing his index finger into Peter’s tight hole. The young man gasped at the sudden sting, but his expression turned to absolute bliss in an instant. He clenched and unclenched around Tony’s digit and soon enough, Tony started pulling out and pushing back in, curling his finger in the process, in search of Peter’s… Sweet spot. “God, yes, T-Tony, Daddy-“ Peter moaned as his body rocked under Tony’s attention. “Mr. Stark-!” Tony’s eyes went wide, revealing a previously unseen aggression behind them. His movements became more forceful and he lowered his face until it was right in front of Peter’s. “Yes, boy, call me that again. Do it.” “M-Mi-“ Peter squeezed his eyes shut, completely overwhelmed by all the sensations and the tightening knot in his abdomen. His balls were tight and his heartbeat throbbed everywhere. “Whose cock is this, Peter, tell me who it belongs to-“ Tony let his thumb glide over the tip of Peter’s cock as he quickened his pace and the intensity of his jerks. “Yours- Mr. Stark, it’s y-yours!” Peter’s reply was rewarded with Tony’s mouth sucking marks on Peter’s neck. “And this hole? Huh? Who does this belong to?” Right when Tony uttered the words, he found what he’d been looking for. Peter opened his mouth wide in a silent scream as his body convulsed. “Yes, yes, yours, yours-“ Tony attacked Peter’s prostate without remorse, not halting any movement. He was good at this and he owned it. He owned Peter. “And your mouth? Your chest and your arms and your legs and your neck-“ Tony cut his own rambles short by biting into the skin right below Peter’s jaw, eliciting another loud moan from him. “Mr. Stark’s, his- his, yours!” “That’s it, good boy, it’s all mine. You’re all mine!” “F-fuck, I’m gonna come, Mr. Stark- Please, please-“ Peter’s gasps were erratic. The complete polar opposite of Tony’s near robotic movements. Along the way, he had added two more fingers into Peter’s sopping hole and he kept pumping mercilessly, curling his fingers at just the right moment. The young man was practically folded in two on the bed, taking everything Tony was giving him. He’d never felt this good in his entire life and he basked in the hot sheen covering his body. All his fantasies, all their sexts, were now reality. Tony stayed true to his word. Everything he had promised Peter, he was now giving- almost forcing- upon the young man and he loved it. They both did. “So close, my sweet, stay on that edge for me, don’t tip over just yet-“ Tony growled. “Make...” The young man found himself humping into Tony’s fist, moaning at the trademarked line that had started falling from the mob boss’s lips. “It…“ Peter whined as his body shook, trying to hold onto the last bit of sanity that he had left before he would lose it all and spill. “Last…“ Every part of Peter’s being writhed and convulsed at the scorching pleasure pumping through him. He had to make it last. He had to wait. Had to drag it out. Felt so good. Too good. Yes, yes- yes! “That’s it… Just a little longer,” Tony encouraged. Peter’s eyes rolled back and to his dismay, Tony sped up even more. “Haaa-,” Every muscle in Peter’s body shook with tension, ready for that blissful release. “Yeees, good boy, such a good boy, hold on…” Tony’s breath was hot on Peter’s lips. His deep voice vibrated through Peter’s body, sending even more surges of arousal through him. “Open your eyes. Look at me.” Peter’s jaw was locked as his eyes fluttered open. He stared straight into Tony’s and the sight had his toes curl. “Come.” Peter’s vision went white at the intense eruption bursting from him. If he screamed, he didn’t hear himself. All he could do was experience it. White streaks covered his abdomen and Tony’s hand and the overstimulating sensation of his orgasm seemed to last forever. After who-knows-how-long, Peter came down from his high, panting and twitching on the mattress, body completely limp. Tony was lying next to him, whispering sweet praise into his ear and slowly bringing Peter back to reality with his calming voice and caressing hands. Peter blinked a few times, his vision sharpening again until Tony was completely in focus. The man smiled. “Good morning, sunshine,” he repeated himself. Peter chuckled and cuddled up against Tony’s chest. Tony immediately embraced him, tangling their legs together. “Morning,” Peter laughed softly. It was quiet for a minute while Peter cleared his mind, basking in the afterglow of what was the most intense orgasm he’s ever experienced. “Thank you,” he whispered against Tony’s body. The man kissed the top of Peter’s head, humming softly. “No, my sweet, thank you.” After another hour of cuddling together Peter shuffled back so he could look Tony in the eye. “We should probably get out, don’t we?” Tony smiled kindly, pressing his fingers through Peter’s curls. “Work can wait.” “I wasn’t talking about work…” There was a playful sparkle in Peter’s eyes. “I want to explore this place.” “Can’t we cuddle a little longer?” “I’ll stay naked,” Peter teased. “We’re alone anyways… And I’ll make you coffee?” “Are you trying to bribe me with coffee that requires pressing one button?” Tony teased right back. Peter moved to sit up straight and tossed the sheets on top of Tony. He jumped out of bed, his cock already hardening again and bouncing with every movement. Tony grinned and seemed to be enjoying this newfound confidence Peter had. “I don’t know, Mr. Stark, am I?” Peter sauntered towards the door and opened it swiftly, arching his back and showing off his toned body as he walked through. Tony’s cock, that had started softening up after not getting any attention last round, sprung back to life at the sight. “Could make the coffee last, but… I’m sure there are other rooms in this place where I could make it last?” Tony laughed positively wicked and crawled over the bed towards Peter. The young man squealed delighted and ran out into the hallway. Tony stepped out of the bed and started chasing his good boy through the mansion.

[ceealaina]

Title: Crashing Through Your Door Ship: IronHusbands Rating: Teen Major Tags: Pre-Iron Man 1, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining Card Number: 5023 (Tony Stark Bingo) 3002 (IronHusbands Bingo Square: R4 - Mutual Pining (Tony Stark Bingo) B4 - Fake Dating (IronHusbands Bingo) Link: AO3 Summary: To give himself a break, Tony's been using a made-up boyfriend to get out of meetings. He gets to stay home and tinker, the board things he's settling down, it's a win-win situation. Right up until Obie decides he wants to meet this boyfriend that's taking up so much of his time. 

But what kind of best friend would Rhodey be if he didn't step up to be Tony's fake boyfriend? Tony’s nothing short of relieved and so Rhodey dresses up to be his date to the gala-of-the-week except wow, pretending they’ve secretly been in love for the past year is way easier than it should be... Word Count: 9237

Rhodey jogged down the stairs of Tony’s shiny new Malibu “beach house” (the thing was ridiculously large if you asked him, but Tony hadn’t) and let himself into the workshop. “Honey, I’m home!” he called out, blinking when he was met with a dark room. “Tones? JARVIS said you were down here.” 

There was a faint groaning noise from the far corner, and when Rhodey turned the lights on, he found Tony sitting in a chair, slumped over his desk with his face buried in his arms. 

“Oh no,” Rhodey deadpanned, picking his way through bits of machinery to kick Tony’s foot. “What did you do now?” 

“I fucked up,” Tony moaned, the words muffled by his position. He lifted his head to peer at Rhodey, looking bleary in the face of sudden brightness. “Your concern for me is overwhelming, by the way. Really feeling the love here, Rhodes.” 

Rhodey shrugged, unperturbed. “Your world is ending like every other week, and I was promised pizza and beer -- which I even brought because I’m an amazing friend -- so… If you’re gonna have a breakdown can we at least do it where there’s food?” He gave Tony a broad grin and a wink, and Tony rolled his eyes, trying to hide his own fond smile as he pushed back from the table. 

“Yeah, alright, let’s go.” 

When they were upstairs and he could get a better look at him, Rhodey had to admit that Tony was looking a little more frazzled than usual. His hair was extra fluffy, like he’d run his hands through it about fifty times, and his fingers were tapping out a constant jittery rhythm against his thigh. Rhodey waited until they were settled in front of some action movie, but when Tony wasn’t forthcoming with any information, Rhodey nudged his side. “Hey. You gonna tell me what’s bugging you?”

Tony groaned again, burying his face in his hands. “You’re gonna make fun of me,” he whined.

Rhodey smiled, even if Tony couldn’t see it. “Probably,” he agreed easily. “Tell me anyway?” 

Tony huffed and pouted and squirmed but eventually he relented, shifting to sit sideways on the couch and face Rhodes. “Okay, so.” He sighed heavily. “You know, I’m head of SI now.”

“Really?” Rhodey drawled. “I hadn’t heard.” 

Tony elbowed him hard in the side. “So there’s all this… Stuff that goes along with that. Like I wasn’t looking forward to the board meetings, but at least I expected those? But there’s all these other meetings, like fifty a day were nothing actually gets done, and there are the charity events, and the gladhanding, and the ‘come meet a friend of a friend of a friend of mine,’ and I have to be on all the time and -- Obie wanted me to learn squash, Rhodey. Squash.” 

“Aww, come on. Bet you’d be cute in those little white shorts.” 

“I hate you.” Tony told him. “Anyway, it’s a lot, and sometimes I just want to take a break and go hang out in the lab and build stuff, you know?” 

“Do I know that you’d rather be a reclusive little lab gremlin? Yeah, I’d noticed that once or twice,” Rhodey teased. 

“Whatever.” Tony squirmed again, clearly embarrassed, and Rhodey waited. “So, you know, to get out of doing stuff when I just really, really wasn’t feeling it, I, uh… I maybe told Obie that I was seeing someone?” 

Rhodey blinked at him. “Oh no.”

Tony sighed heavily. “Oh yes.” 

He sounded so forlorn that Rhodey couldn’t help but laugh at him, only laughing harder when that made Tony whine and try to smother himself with a throw pillow. “Tones, I say this because I love you, but how is someone this smart this fucking stupid?” 

“I know, okay?” Tony wailed, accidentally throwing the pillow across the room as his arms flailed in emphasis. “I don’t know, it seemed like a great plan at first. It’s not like I was hurting anyone. The board even liked the idea that I was maybe settling down a little. So they’re relaxing a little, I get a night off… Everyone’s happy.” 

“Until it blew up in your face, like your hare-brained plans always do?” Rhodey guessed. 

“I resent that,” Tony told him. “JARVIS turned out fine. Didn’t you, J?” 

“I haven’t started taking over the world yet,” JARVIS agreed. “Although I do have several contingencies in place.” 

“Everyone’s conspiring against me,” Tony sighed, head tipping backwards to pout up at the ceiling. 

Rhodey laughed, poked him in his side. “So what went wrong? Now Obie wants to meet this amazing boyfriend of yours?” 

 “Insisted on it,” Tony agreed. “Wants me to bring him to the firefighter thing next week. I’m pretty sure he’s on to me. He’s probably trying to force me to confess. Humiliate me so I learn my lesson. So obviously, I can’t give in.” 

“Perish the thought,” Rhodey told him dryly, although really, he’d seen the effects of Obie’s brand of tough love. He couldn’t exactly blame Tony for not wanting to admit the truth, especially given how harmless the whole thing really was. God forbid Tony get a break every once in awhile. 

“I just don’t know what I’m gonna do,” Tony groaned, scrubbing his hand through his hair again, leaving it standing up in all directions. “I can’t tell him. I thought about faking a breakup, but Obie’s not dumb. I break up with my long-term boyfriend days before he’s supposed to finally meet him? I might as well just tell him in that case. So my only option would be to get someone to fake it, but there’s no way that doesn’t blow up in my face. It can’t be anyone from work, and I don’t really know anyone else. I guess I could hire an escort, but how would they learn everything they’d need to know in time? You know that Obie would try and get them to slip. Plus, it’s not like I can get legal to just write up an NDA here. With my luck I’d end up blackmailed or something…” 

Tony was working himself into an epic ramble, and Rhodey nodded along before shrugging. “Or I could just do it.” 

Tony had already been off on another tangent, but as Rhodey’s voice caught up to him he stopped mid-word, staring at him. “I -- what?” he asked and Rhodey could already see his mind working overtime, trying to parse out what he was saying. 

He laughed. “Or I could just do it,” he repeated. “Come on, dude. I already know everything about you, so I’m not gonna slip. And let’s face it, if I was gonna blackmail you, I would have done it ages ago. We went to college together, I’ve got way better shit than a fake boyfriend.” He nodded as he thought through the logistics. “Yeah, this’ll totally work.”

Tony blinked at him. “Really? Really. You think so. You have met Obie, right? No way he’s buying that. He’d be all, ‘Tony m’boy. I’ve known Jim since you first brought him home for Thanksgiving. You expect me to believe he’s this secret boyfriend of yours? No reason to hide that away!’”

Rhodey snorted; Tony’s Obidiah impression was a little too spot on. “Yeah, like he wouldn’t have had a shit fit if he thought we actually were dating. All the more reason to tell him it’s me. We’ll make him squirm a little. And, I don’t know. Just tell him because it was new, and a change in our relationship, we wanted to keep it under wraps. Have some time to ourselves, get a feel for what this meant…”

Tony scratched the side of his nose. “You’re weirdly smart sometimes, you know that?” he asked, which wasn’t exactly a no. 

“The same excuse will work when we ‘break up’ later. Just tell him that now that we’re in the public eye, we’ve realized we’re better off as friends. No hard feelings, no big drama, no ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ just… Friends.”

“I…” Tony considered this, closed his mouth, blinked, and opened it again. “But…” He closed his mouth again and then sank back into the cushions. “You really think it’ll work?” 

Rhodey laughed. “Have I ever let you down?” 

“Constantly,” Tony replied immediately, but he was grinning. “Shit. I mean… You make some good points.” He drew a deep breath, mind still running over all the outcomes, and then nodded, a smile growing over his face as he got onboard. “Yeah, okay. I think this’ll work.” 

***

One week later, Rhodey was meeting up with Tony in an all-night coffee shop a couple blocks away from the gala, like some kind of Cold War spy fantasy. Apparently Obie had been planning to hang around Tony’s place beforehand, and Tony thought things would run more smoothly if they ‘introduced’ Rhodey at the gala, where there would be lots of wealthy investors to distract him. 

There was a little bell over the door that chimed when Rhodey stepped in, and immediately he saw Tony’s head snap up from a table at the far end of the shop. “Rhodey! Hey!” he said, bouncing with nerves like this was an actual first date and not his best friend. Rhodey arched an eyebrow as he reached the table and spotted the two mugs of coffee. 

“You sure you need those?” he asked, grinning to try and set Tony at ease. “You already seem jittery enough for the two of us.” 

“One of them’s for you,” Tony grumbled. “Leave me alone, I’m kind of stressed right now.” 

“I don’t think coffee’s gonna help, man. You look like you’re gonna bounce through the roof.”

“I hate you,” Tony informed him, huffing as he folded his arms across his chest and hunched over in his chair. “You’re doing a terrible job so far, by the way. I thought the deal was you’d pretend to be besotted with me, not tell me how dumb I look.” 

“You do look dumb,” Rhodey told him. “That’s what I like about you.” Then, when that finally got a hint of a smile on Tony’s face, “You want me to do besotted? I can do besotted.” He made a show of looking Tony up and down, eyes lingering over his chest and arms and the peak of thigh that he could see slipping under the table before sliding back up to make eye contact again. He tilted his head a little, letting a slow smile spread over his face as he glanced at Tony from under his eyelashes. “You look good tonight, Tones,” he purred, letting his voice drop down to his flirting voice, low and velvety. Then he grinned wide, shifting his voice back to normal. “That besotted enough for you?:

“Uh.” Tony blinked at him and swallowed hard, before shaking his head. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s… Good. Great. Yeah.” He jumped to his feet then, not seeming to notice the untouched coffees. “We should go.” 

There was the usual flurry of paparazzi outside the event, but Rhodey had been to enough of these events that his appearance wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. He knew this was more for SI than the media (the last thing Tony would need was a bunch of reporters hounding him about his breakup later) but he figured it couldn’t hurt to start selling it on the way in. Tony jumped a little when Rhodey’s hand settled on the small of his back, even though they shared casual touches about a million times a day, but he looked over at Rhodey with a small smile as he steered him past the cameras and the questions and into the building. 

“Hey,” Rhodey leaned in close so they wouldn’t be overheard. “You really do look good tonight, man. That suit suits you.” 

Tony snorted at that, but he seemed to relax a little too. “Wow, Rhodes,” he drawled. “Such a way with words.” He laughed though, and his eyes were sparkling and pleased. Then he shoved Rhodey and Rhodey shoved him back and they made their way down the hotel hall like that, laughing as their shoulders bumped together. 

As soon as they stepped inside the ballroom though, Tony stopped. Rhodey’s hand had resettled on his back and Rhodey could feel him tense as he spotted Obie, standing across the room and chatting up a bunch of rich-looking men in expensive suits. 

“Deep breaths, Tones,” Rhodey told him, shifting his hand slightly in a barely-there rub of Tony’s back. Tony glanced at him again, but his smile was tight now, eyes pinched at the corners. 

“Come on. Let’s get this over with,” he muttered -- but he did take a deep breath. 

When they joined the group it took a minute before Obie spared them a glance (though Rhodey had no doubt that he knew they were there and was just pulling yet another Obadiah power move). When he spotted Rhodey, his expression shifted, souring slightly before settling into something almost smug. He excused himself with a jovial smile, walking in the direction of the bar without waiting to see if Rhodey and Tony were following him. Rhodey heard Tony sigh softly, and he gave his forearm a quick squeeze.

Obie came to a stop, looking back and forth between them like they were misbehaving children, and finally settled his gaze on Tony, arching an eyebrow. “What’s this? I thought you were going to bring your boyfriend, Tony. Hmm? We had an agreement.” 

Personally, Rhodey thought that an ‘agreement’ was an odd way to refer to meeting your godson’s significant other for the first time. 

Beside him, Tony shifted nervously. “I, uh… I did.” 

Obie blinked and made a show of looking around the room. “And where is he, then?”

“Um, well. I… I mean…” 

Obie cut Tony off with a heavy, exaggerated sigh. “Tony, we’ve discussed this. You’re too old to be pulling this kind of nonsense. You’ve got responsibilities, you can’t just run around doing whatever you want. If the board --,” 

“It’s Rhodey!” Tony blurted out suddenly, eyes wide. He grabbed Rhodey’s hand half a beat later, tangling their fingers together as he held Rhodey’s hand up for proof. Rhodey gave his hand a quick squeeze in return. “Surprise?” 

Obie stared back at them, actually looking taken aback for once. “You’re kidding,” he said flatly. But Rhodey could tell that Tony’s nervousness was actually working in his favour, that Obie wasn’t quite sure that it wasn’t true. 

“Nope,” Rhodey told him, meeting Obie’s gaze head on before turning back to Tony with the softest smile he could manage. It wasn’t too difficult with Tony looking as nervous as he did, and the sweet little smile that Tony gave him in return looked a lot more real than it had before. “You know how it goes,” he added. “We were just hanging out late one night, playing video games, everything normal. And I just looked at Tony and thought, ‘wow, I have to kiss that man.’ So I did and it was everything I didn’t know I’d been missing.” He rubbed his thumb over Tony’s hand, obvious enough that Obie would track the movement. “I guess it’s been simmering for awhile, you know? Just didn’t realize it until right then.” 

Apparently Rhodey had his smitten face down pat because Obie’s posture eased slightly, though he still looked somewhat suspicious. “Alright,” he said finally. “I suppose congratulations are in order.”

He didn’t sound particularly congratulatory. 

“Behave yourself, boys,” he told them before abandoning them in favour of a potential investor across the room. 

Immediately, Tony sagged against Rhodey, the air leaving his lungs in a rush. “Oh god,” he groaned, head falling against Rhodey’s shoulder. “I need like seventeen drinks. Jesus Christ.” 

Rhodey huffed out a laugh. “Come on, sugartits. I’ll buy you a drink. I know how to take care of my man.”

“It’s an open bar, asshole,” Tony protested, but he let Rhodey tug him over to the counter. “Also, I object to ‘sugartits’ being my nickname, what the fuck?” 

“Hey man, I’m just trying to sell the bit.” 

“Seriously though. Sugarass maybe, cause, I mean, look at me. But sugartits? Come on Rhodes, do better.” 

Rhodey snorted, automatically placing Tony’s drink order along with his own. “Just think of it as payback for all the dumbass nicknames you’ve given me over the years,” he offered. 

“But those come from a place of love!” Tony insisted, laughing at Rhodey’s eyeroll. 

“Sure, Tones. Whatever you say.”  He turned to pass Tony his drink and found him watching him with a look on his eyes that he couldn’t quite place. “What? Something on my face?” 

“No,” Tony told him. “I just… I like the story you made up there. About how we got together? That was… Nice.” Then he shifted, clearing his throat. “A nice touch, I mean. I think you really sold it. Anyway! I think they’re bringing out dinner soon. Should we go sit?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Rhodey said, a little nonplussed; Tony seemed even more frenetic than usual. “Let’s go.” 

**

Dinner could have gone better. Tony was jumpy and twitchy, hyper focused on his food and constantly losing track of the conversation. Rhodey knew it was nerves, but that didn’t mean much when the board members they were seated with kept giving them odd looks and Obie’s expression was growing more and more suspicious. 

They were waiting for dessert when Tony’s arm twitched and caught his (thankfully mostly empty) wine glass, sending it wobbling precariously on the tablecloth. Rhodey’s hand snapped out automatically, catching it before it could fall and ruin the tablecloth along with everyone's fancy clothes. And then, because Tony was going to blow his own cover before the dancing even started, he curled his hand over Tony’s on the table, threading their fingers together. Tony turned and blinked at him, and Rhodey gave his hand a quick squeeze but didn’t let go. He grinned at him and a beat later Tony was grinning back, tension easing out of his body. 

They’d decided beforehand that they’d keep it simple, no PDA or soppy love declarations, wanting to be believable. But Rhodey figured that it wouldn’t hurt to turn up the romance a little, so he kept hold of Tony’s hand, only letting go when dessert was served and Tony needed his hand back to eat. 

They’d both chosen different dessert options, and Tony’s French chocolate-whatever looked absolutely delicious. Rhodey eyed it, consideringly, and after a few bites of his own dessert, he leaned over and stole a not-insignificant piece of Tony’s. The absolutely scandalized look that Tony gave him had him laughing, nearly choking on his bite -- which was just as delicious as it had looked. 

“What?” he asked, giving Tony a sugar-sweet smile in return. 

“That’s my dessert!” he protested. “You’ve got your own.” He gestured wildly at Rhodey’s plate with his fork, and Rhodey just shrugged back at him. 

“Perks of dating,” he told him, leaning in close and dropping his voice. “Sugarass,” he added, getting a snicker out of Tony in response. 

“You’re an idiot,” he grumbled, and then snatched a bite of Rhodey’s dessert in return. 

“Hey,” Rhodey protested right back at him, slapping at Tony’s fork with his own. Tony huffed at him, slapped his fork in return, and a beat later they were in a mini fork battle. Out of the corner of his eye Rhodey could see Obie glaring at the two of them, looking utterly unimpressed, but it was worth it for the way Tony was laughing, finally looking at ease. Rhodey’d always thought that Tony had a great laugh, so anything he could do to make it happen was a win in his book. 

Obie lasted until the instant the music started up for the dancing and then he was gripping Tony’s arm, pulling him to his feet with just a little more force than necessary. “Tony. I have some contacts for you to meet. I told them you’d be here, and they’d be a real asset to SI, so…” He trailed off, leaving whatever his implication was supposed to be hanging, and Tony turned his head enough to give Rhodey a truly epic eye roll. 

“Alright,” he sighed, not even pretending that he wasn’t completely put out by the idea. Rhodey winked back at him, and the pinched look around Obie’s lip tightened. 

“I trust you can occupy yourself for a few minutes,” he added, giving Rhodey a pointed eyebrow raise. 

Rhodey gave Obie a bland look in return. “Yup. I’ll manage,” he drawled, barely getting the words out before Obie was dragging Tony away. Tony shot him a pained look over his shoulder and Rhodey offered a commiserating eye roll. 

These events were always truly boring when Tony wasn’t around to occupy his attention. Rhodey polished off his own dessert and then finished the last few bites of Tony’s just for good measure -- he could consider it payment in kind for the entire night. Then, when the rest of their table had cleared out, he grabbed a drink and made the rounds, chatting with the few SI employees that he knew, getting hauled into conversations with a few people that he didn’t. He’d fended off no less than three horny old ladies (they were always a sucker for the military dress uniform) when he decided it had probably been long enough that he could rescue Tony again. 

He found him sitting at an empty table, nursing a half full glass of scotch and looking absolutely drained. Rhodey sighed briefly and then moved over to join him, taking the seat beside Tony and nudging his foot against his ankle. “You alright?” 

Tony looked up quickly, giving him a smile that was just a little too bright. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just… You know…” 

He didn’t have to specify what, but Rhodey nodded anyway. Then he pried the glass out of Tony’s hand, setting it on the table, and tangled their fingers instead. “Come on,” he said, standing up.

Tony resisted him a little just because, leaning back in his seat and arching an eyebrow up at Rhodey. “Where are we going?” 

Rhodey winked at him. “Come on, now. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t ask you for at least one dance, huh?” 

Tony smiled all soft and sweet, like he could hide how happy that made him. “Yeah, alright,” he agreed, slowly getting to his feet with his hand still tangled in Rhodey’s. “Let’s dance.” 

There was a brief moment of confusion when they landed on the dance floor, and Tony, who had apparently never been led before (which was something of a tragedy, if you asked Rhodey) wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. But Tony wasn’t the only one who could dance, thank you very much, so Rhodey got him settled and led him over the dance floor in a fast-paced waltz. Their form was terrible, Rhodey was pretty sure, but he didn’t particularly care when Tony was beaming, giggling into his shoulder when they nearly took out an older couple on their way by. 

They made it through two and a half songs before the music shifted into something slower and softer. Tony tensed for a bare second, but Rhodey didn’t let him go, just tightened his arm around Tony’s waist, and a beat later he was sinking into it, relaxing in Rhodey’s arms. 

“Thank you for this,” Tony said softly, eyes somewhere around Rhodey’s collarbone. “This is… This is nice.”

Rhodey just hummed and pulled Tony in a little closer. “Yeah,” he agreed, something warm and familiar settling in his stomach. “Yeah, it is.” 

There was another beat and then Tony shifted and leaned in, resting his cheek against Rhodey’s shoulder as the two of them swayed slowly to the beat of the music. The warm feeling in Rhodey’s stomach grew, something familiar and comfortable settling deep inside him. Tony sighed softly, breath fluttering against the base of Rhodey’s neck, and Rhodey felt his heart stop. 

Oh shit. He was in love with his best friend. 

Tony must have felt him tense slightly because he pulled back to look up at him. “This alright?” he asked quietly, and there was something in his eyes, something nervous and wanting. 

Just like that Rhodey felt his heart start up again, comfortable and easy and exactly how everything was supposed to me. “Yeah,” he said, pulling Tony in closer still until they were pressed chest to chest. “This is just fine.” 

***

The rest of the night passed in a blur of drinking and dancing and schmoozing and more drinking, and every time Rhodey looked over at Tony he could feel his smile growing wider. Now that he’d realized, it seemed so obvious; of course he was in love with Tony. He had been for years. He’d always known he’d felt different about Tony, that he was special. He just hadn’t been able to put a finger on exactly how before. And now that he had, everything felt right. 

And he was pretty sure that he wasn’t alone in his feelings. He knew what Tony looked like with a crush, the little smiles, the nervous giggles, the way he got so sweet. Rhodey had just never expected to see those signs directed at him, so he figured he could be forgiven for missing them until now. But now that he had seen it, he was going to take full advantage. 

When the night was over the two of them slipped outside, arms wrapped around each other. Rhodey hadn’t realized just how drunk he was until he hit the fresh air, stumbling a little down the steps, and he let Tony pour him into the car they were sharing home. There was no actual  reason for them to go back to the same place so Happy would drop Rhodey off at his apartment first, and he couldn’t help being a little disappointed about that. He thought about suggesting that they both go back to Tony’s place anyway, in case Obie decided to check up on them maybe, but coming up with a valid reason felt like too much effort. Instead he looked over at Tony and grinned wide. 

“What?” Tony asked, laughing a little at Rhodey’s expression. Clearly he hadn’t drunk as much as him, or at least he was handling it better if he had. 

Rhodey just shook his head. “I’m gonna date you so hard,” he declared. 

***

When Rhodey woke up the next morning, it was with a wicked hangover. But after a hot shower, greasy food, and a few hours of mindless television, he had a plan. Really, Tony had given him the perfect opening with all this fake boyfriend stuff. Rhodey just had to… Take it up a notch or two. 

So once he was feeling a little more human again, he called Tony. It took a few rings for him to pick up, and when he finally did there was loud music blaring in the background that had Rhodey smiling.  

“Hey baby,” he drawled into the receiver, grinning when that got a snort out of Tony. 

“Obie’s not tapping the phones,” he told him. “You don’t have to keep playing boyfriend when he’s not around.” 

“Well see, there’s the thing,” Rhodey told him. “I figure we can’t ‘break up’ right away, otherwise Obie’s gonna know the whole thing was a fake and then what would the point have even been, right?” 

“Okay…” 

“Okay,” Rhodey agreed. “And I should probably go to a few more events with you too. Now that he knows, he’s gonna be even more suspicious if I just keep leaving you to attend things solo, right?” 

“I guess,” Tony agreed, sounding more confused than anything.

“Exactly,” Rhodey told him. “So I was thinking, if we’re gonna pull off something a little more long term, especially now that he’ll be over the surprise of it, we should probably get together and practice.” 

“Practice,” Tony repeated, sounding even more confused. “You want to practice being my boyfriend?” 

“Well, you know…” Rhodey hedged, because yes, that was exactly what he wanted, but he didn’t want to give all his cards away here. “Figure out pet names, and who sleeps on what side of the bed. Stuff like that.” 

“Are you still drunk?” Tony’s confusion had given way to amusement. “You think Obie’s gonna ask what side of the bed we sleep on?” 

“Well, no,” Rhodey admitted. “But somebody else might, and he could overhear it. We should just be prepared, is all.” 

Tony hummed on the other end of the line. “You know, if you wanted to hang out and have me buy your pizza, you just had to say so.” 

“You’re an asshole, Tones. I’m helping you, remember.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” There was a faint clatter from somewhere across the room, and Tony huffed out a laugh, low and warm. “I’ll be in the lab, come over whenever.” 

***

Rhodey showed up at Tony’s place a couple hours later, wielding the t-shirt that hugged his biceps just right and a bouquet of flowers. The doors opened for him automatically, but when he made his way down to the lab Tony was distracted by whatever he was working on and didn’t even hear him come in. Rhodey leaned against a table and waited, and when Tony showed no signs of even looking up, he finally cleared his throat. 

“So are we gonna hang out, or should I go away and give you and your screwdriver some alone time?” 

Tony turned then, a grin on his face, but whatever response he’d been going to give died as he took in the flowers in Rhodey’s hand. “Uhh…” He arched an eyebrow and met Rhodey’s eyes. “Did you bring me flowers?” 

Rhodey shrugged lazily, holding the bouquet out towards him. “I told you. Practice.” 

Tony blinked at him, a pleased little smile playing over his lips. “You’re weird,” he said, but he took the flowers and held them up to his nose, inhaling deeply even though they were just grocery store daisies and didn’t have much of a scent at all. 

Rhodey shrugged, and gave him that slow, easy grin that was his go-to pick up move (and that he’d practiced in the mirror before, not that he’d admit it). He held eye contact until Tony blinked away first, clearing his throat and squirming a little at the attention -- a definite good squirm. 

“Um, thanks,” Tony told him. “I’m gonna…” He trailed off, waggling the flowers a little, and headed for the stairs. “You thirsty? Hungry?” 

“I could eat,” Rhodey admitted. 

Tony nodded as he headed up the stairs, not waiting to see if Rhodey was following. “Wanna order in?” 

“Obviously,” Rhodey teased. “I’ve seen your kitchen. Pretty sure there’s been nothing edible in there for weeks.” 

“Wow, rude.” Tony’s protest was half-hearted and he shot a grin at Rhodey over his shoulder. “But probably not wrong. I should hire a life coach, or an assistant maybe.” 

“I thought that was JARVIS’s job.” 

“Alas,” JARVIS sighed. “I can only order the food, I have not yet developed the ability to get Sir to eat it.” 

“Okay,” Tony protested. “Now you’re both ganging up on me? So rude.”

Since he didn’t want to freak Tony out, Rhodey dialed it back down once they were in the kitchen, and Tony had tracked down a crystal pitcher that probably cost more than Rhodey’s rent to shove his grocery store flowers into. They bickered good-naturedly over the food like always, finally settling on Thai, and then Tony showed him the latest mods to his current favourite car while they waited for the food to arrive. Tony tipped the delivery guy an amount that took generous to a whole other level (something Obie constantly gave him shit for, but Rhodey happened to love about him) and then they settled in front of the enormous television to bicker some more over what movie they were going to watch. A normal, perfect evening.

He waited until they were both full and satisfied, the half full containers of leftovers littering the coffee table in front of them, and Tony was fully absorbed in the movie they’d finally settled on (Ghostbusters, again). Then, as subtly as he could manage and feeling a little like he was fourteen, Rhodey sank back into the overstuffed cushions and then stretched his arm out to hook over Tony’s shoulder. 

There was a beat, and while Tony didn’t quite tense up, he did go still. “Um.” 

When Rhodey chanced a glance over at Tony, he was looking back at him. His lips were pressed together,  but he looked amused again. 

“Whatcha doin?” 

Rhodey shrugged, and since Tony wasn’t giving any indication of being uncomfortable, he tightened his arm slightly, pulling him in against him a little. “Practice.”

 There was another beat and then Tony seemed to shrug as well, settling more comfortably against him, head pillowed against Rhodey’s shoulder as he went back to the movie. 

***

“H’lo?” 

Rhodey’s voice was slurred as he answered the phone, squinting at his alarm clock. It took a minute for his blurry eyes to reconcile the display into actual numbers: 4:38 am.

“It’s me.” 

Tony’s voice sounded off slightly, softer, and Rhodey blinked a few times, trying to force himself into wakefulness. “Tones? You okay?” 

“Yeah!” Tony answered quickly, laughing a little. “Yeah, I’m fine. Promise.” 

Rhodey looked over at the clock again, suspicious now. “You just going to bed?” 

“Maybe?” Tony laughed again, and Rhodey could hear the genuine smile in his voice. “Sorry, I should have waited to call, I know. I just… I had to ask you a favour, and it’s really late notice already so even though it’ll probably be no, I thought if I don’t ask now then it’ll really be too late. And I meant to ask you before, I just… Didn’t.” 

“Tones.” Rhodey was laughing as he interrupted, rubbing at his eyes. “What is it?” 

“I, um… There’s another event tonight. Some charity something or other that I have to go to, and Obie’s been making comments about you, I don’t know if he really totally believes me, so uh…” There was a strange note in Tony’s voice, one that Rhodey was too tired to decipher. “I don’t suppose you want to come with me?” 

Rhodey grinned up at the ceiling, letting his eyes fall shut. “Yeah,” he hummed. “Course I’ll be your date tonight.” 

***

What with their conflicting, hectic schedules, Rhodey hadn’t actually seen Tony since the day after the gala, almost two weeks ago now. It was always good to see him when they’d been apart for awhile, but this time was even better, Rhodey taking an extra minute to take in the cut of Tony’s suit, the perfect way it fit when he showed up to pick him up. 

“You look good, man,” he told him. 

Tony rolled his eyes a little at the compliment, but when they got into the car, Rhodey could see the reflection of his pleased smile in the windshield. 

The gala could have been a repeat of the one before, the same people, the same food, the same tasteful, boring decorating scheme. This time, however, Obie was near the door when they came in, excused himself with a slight frown to meet them. 

“Tony,” he said in lieu of an actual greeting, looking him over with a critical assessing eye that made Rhodey want to tell Tony again just how good he looked -- doubly so when he noted the tiny little self-conscious ankle twist that Tony let slip under his godfather’s inspection. “Jim,” he added when Tony had apparently passed muster, turning to him with an arched eyebrow. “Tony didn’t tell me you were joining him tonight.” 

“Yes I did,” Tony grumbled mutinously, making Rhodey grin. 

They made it through the obligatory Obie small talk without Rhodey punching anything, and once he’d gone off to schmooze some more rich people, Rhodey elbowed Tony in the side. “I thought you said Obie was asking questions,” he teased. “I thought that was why you wanted me to be your date tonight.” 

“Shut up,” Tony grumbled, and Rhodey thought he could see a flush trailing up the back of his neck. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink. Since you’re so hung up on being my date.” 

“It’s an open bar,” Rhodey huffed as he followed him, not caring that it was a repeat of Tony’s joke from the last time. “The drinks are free!” 

Tony grinned at him over his shoulder. “Guess that makes you a cheap date then, huh?” 

Rhodey managed to talk Tony into three slow dances this time, holding him close because he had to sell it, obviously. The flutter of Tony’s breath on his neck sent shivers through him every time, and by the end of the third dance, Rhodey was feeling a little drunk from it. Tony seemed more comfortable this time too, laughing and smiling at Rhodey more than usual, fluttering his eyelashes and playing up the boyfriend aspect, and the weight of all his attention and affection left Rhodey reeling. 

They had both drunk enough that, when the night started to wind down, Rhodey convinced Tony not to drive home. It was hot, the two of them flushed from dancing and drinking, and they headed outside to wait for the car he’d called. The air wasn’t much cooler outside, but it was a rare, misty night, and Tony turned his face up to the rain, eyes closed and a faint smile on his face at the refreshing sensation. Rhodey watched him, and wanted so badly to kiss him that he could almost taste it. He hadn’t yet, and while he probably could have pulled it off as part of the whole fake boyfriend thing, that felt like cheating somehow. He wanted Tony to kiss him, not some fake ruse version of himself. 

“Um…” Tony had looked back over at him, and Rhodey realized he had been caught staring. “You doing okay there, honeybear?” 

“Yeah.” Rhodey grinned at him, aware that his face was doing something a little dopey but not particularly caring. “Just tired.” 

“Well let’s get you to bed then, huh?” Tony asked before giggling as the innuendo caught up to him. “I mean home. To your bed. I mean…” He cut himself with a snort. “You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Rhodey agreed easily. 

Tony beamed at him and then nudged his arm. “Come on,” he said, wrapping a hand around Rhodey’s wrist almost without noticing. “That’s our car.” 

Rhodey grinned at the touch, even if he couldn’t help regretting that the night was over. “Hey Tony?” he asked as the two of them slid into the backseat of the car. “Want to grab lunch tomorrow?” 

***

Tomorrow ended up being three days later, because the both of them were entirely too busy, but that was nothing new. Tony was already waiting when Rhodey got there, doodling equations on a napkin, and he grinned at the sight of him. 

“Whatcha working on?” he asked, dropping into the seat opposite him. “Saving the world?” 

“Something like that.” Tony winked at him and then nodded as a server came out from the kitchen, balancing a tray laden down with burgers and beer. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding it at all. “I was starving and didn’t want to wait for you to get here, so I ordered for you.”

“So impatient,” Rhodey teased, kicking his ankle under the table. 

“Hey! It seemed nicer than making you sit there and watch me eat.” Tony stuck his tongue out at him as their plates were unloaded, immediately digging headfirst into his fries. Rhodey snorted as he reached for his own burger, grinning when he found it onion-free with extra pickles, just the way he liked it. 

“Thanks, man.”

The food was delicious, and Rhodey hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until he was digging in. Tony had ordered a massive amount of fries for both of them, but Rhodey couldn’t resist stealing some of Tony’s anyway. Of course then Tony had to retaliate by stealing Rhodey’s entire beer (before immediately ordering him another one). 

When they’d finished the majority of their food, they settled into talking and picking at their leftover fries. Neither of them was quite ready to leave yet, pretending they were still eating so they’d have an excuse to keep talking. Tony was in the middle of describing an idea he’d had to make cell phones better, eyes all wide and bright the way they got when he was really excited about something, and Rhodey couldn’t resist reaching across the table, curling his hands over Tony’s where it was resting against the laminate. Tony stuttered a little over his explanation, coming to a stop as he looked up at Rhodey with a small smile. 

“Practice?” 

Rhodey nodded, beaming at him. “Practice,” he agreed, feeling Tony’s hand squeeze briefly against his. 

***

They kept on like this, and although Tony didn’t make any moves himself, he didn’t seem to mind Rhodey moving on him, and Rhodey was pretty sure he was making progress. He seemed to expect the hand holding now, looked forward to it, even. He didn’t question Rhodey about it anymore, would just teasingly ask, “practice?” as their fingers twined together. The last time they’d been out for dinner, Tony’s hand had settled palm up on the table without him even seeming to realize, waiting for Rhodey to take it. 

They cuddled all the time now too, and while Tony had always been touchy feely, this felt like more. As soon as they had a chance to sit down together for more than a few minutes, Rhodey would wrap an arm around Tony’s shoulder and immediately he’d settle in against him with a soft little sigh like this was exactly where he belonged. It never failed to set something pleasant thrumming through every inch of Rhodey’s body. 

And while Tony had never been shy with the pet names, Rhodey had started adding his own. Nothing over the top, just slipping a ‘baby’ or a ‘sweetheart’ into conversation here or there. The first time he’d done it, not as a joke but as easy and natural as he said Tony’s name, Tony had actually stammered over whatever he’d been saying, an adorable flush colouring his cheeks before he regained his train of thought. He’d looked so ridiculously kissable in that moment that it was all Rhodey could do to stop himself. 

Progress. 

***

Rhodey slung an arm around Tony’s waist as they headed into yet another charity event. This one was more lowkey than normal, which Rhodey definitely wasn’t complaining about. Tony looked amazing in his jeans-and-leather-jacket combo, and Rhodey had never been happier to ‘pretend’ to be dating because there was now way he was going to be able to tear his eyes off Tony’s ass. 

They made it through a round of drinks before Rhodey realized something was missing, eyes narrowing slightly as he scanned the other attendants. “Hey Tones?”

“Mmm?”

“Where’s Obie? Don’t you usually want to get that over with first thing?” 

“Oh, uh…” Tony looked away quickly, acting like he was also scanning the room, but Rhodey knew him well enough to tell when he was faking it to avoid eye contact. “He must be running late.” 

“Late,” Rhodey repeated dryly, not believing a word of it. “That’s more your scene, last I checked. In fact, I’ve never known Obidiah Stane to be more than a second late in his life. He’s a stickler for it, it’s kinda his whole deal.” 

“Oh well, you know.” Tony shrugged, still not quite meeting Rhodey’s eyes, but there was a hint of a sheepish smile curling over his lips. “Things happen, traffic in LA, freak storms… There’s a first time for everything, right?” 

Rhodey snorted. “Is he even coming?” 

“Uh, you know…” Tony scratched at the back of his neck, and now there was a definite smile on his lips. “Maybe I got this event confused with another one?” 

“I don’t believe it!” Rhodey crowed. 

“Oh my god.” 

“Oh no, don’t you ‘oh my god’ me. I specifically remember you telling me that Obie insisted that I come tonight. Obie’s not even here, Tony.” He gave him his best grin then. “You know, if you wanted a date, all you had to do was ask.” 

Tony rolled his eyes, but he was grinning a little stupidly like he couldn’t help himself. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he insisted before curling his hand around Rhodey’s forearm and tugging. “Come on, Rhodes, dance with me.”

“Ohhh,” Rhodey teased, although he was already moving toward the dance floor, his arm back around Tony’s waist. “So now you want a dance.” 

“People will talk,” Tony offered lamely, still fighting back a smile. “Wonder what kind of asshole I’m dating if he won’t even give me a dance.” 

“Oh right, of course.” Despite his teasing, Rhodey didn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around Tony, drawing him close for a dance. This time Tony didn’t even pause, drawing in just as close until they were pressed chest to chest, Tony’s breath hot on his neck. Rhodey adjusted his hold, shifting them until his lips were almost pressed against Tony’s ear. “Well,” he offered, voice pitched low and smooth. “If Obie’s not even here, you wanna slip out early? Go back to my place, maybe, watch a movie?” 

Tony shivered as Rhodey’s breath tickled his ear. “Yeah,” he agreed, sounding out of breath. “Yeah, let’s do that.” 

***

Tony was uncharacteristically quiet in the car, peering out the window and lost in thought. He didn’t seem upset though, and when Rhodey finally caught his gaze in the window reflection, he gave him a bright smile. A beat later he slid a little closer on the bench seat, even though the cab driver hadn’t even recognized Tony and certainly wouldn’t have cared if they were supposed to be dating or not. 

The stillness went away as soon as they stepped through the door of Rhodey’s apartment, his typical manic energy coming back tenfold. He threw himself down on the couch like he belonged there before immediately getting up again. He went to peruse Rhodey’s movie shelf about five different times, every time getting distracted by nothing, opening cupboards and drawers and wandering away without closing them again and while rambling on about nothing the entire time. Rhodey watched him in amusement for a few minutes before coming over as he moved to open yet another drawer, curling his hands over Tony’s and holding them still. 

“You good, man?�� 

Tony went silent, staring at him for a long minute, and then nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said before blinking and turning abruptly toward the kitchen. “I’m hungry,” he announced. “Are you hungry? I want cupcakes. Chocolate cupcakes. Do you think there’s somewhere around here that will deliver chocolate cupcakes? Who has the best chocolate cupcakes in LA?” 

Rhodey snorted and shook his head. “Pretty sure all the bakeries are closed by now, but I’ve got some Duncan Hines cake mix in my cupboard somewhere. Will that do?” 

Tony grinned at him, a little sheepish. “Yeah,” he agreed. “That sounds good.” 

The cake mix, it turned out, was easy to find, right next to the muffin tins. The electric beater his mother had gifted him, however, was a whole other story. Rhodey set Tony to work measuring out the additional ingredients while he went rooting through the cupboard under his sink, finally emerging with dust in his hair and a triumphant, ‘ah-ha!’

Tony huffed out a laugh at the sight of him, his smile fond. He’d pulled off his suit jacket, leaving it draped haphazardly over a kitchen chair, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Rhodey got distracted for a moment, staring at the muscles in his forearms, and then shook himself out of it, nudging Tony away from the mixing bowl with his hip. 

“Move over, hot stuff. Time to let the master work.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “It’s cake mix, it’s pretty hard to fuck it up. You’re not special,” he grumbled. He was grinning though and hopped up on the counter, kicking his legs against the cupboards beneath him while Rhodey mixed and then poured out the batter.

With the muffin tins safely in the oven Rhodey stepped back over, giving Tony a kick of his own before he lost his security deposit. “Knock it off,” he told him, unfastening the beaters from the mixer and extending one to Tony. “Want one?” 

“Fuck yeah!” Tony beamed, making grabby hands. “Pass it over, honeybear.” 

Rhodey did as requested, stepping closer so the batter didn’t drip on the floor, and Tony took it with a contented little noise. Rhodey laughed at him, and then almost immediately forgot about his own beater as Tony started licking at the chocolate, head tilting to get just the right angle, tongue wiggling between the metal spokes. Rhodey had not thought this through. 

He didn’t know if he’d made a noise or what, but then Tony’s eyes flicked up to meet his. He lowered the beater slowly, eyes locked with Rhodey’s. Without quite meaning to, Rhodey took a step closer, heard Tony’s soft inhale in response, his tongue running self consciously over his lower lip. There was a fleck of chocolate there, and it took everything Rhodey had not to lick it off for him. He wanted to kiss him so badly, but something inside him stopped. He needed Tony to be the one to make that final move, needed to know that they were on the same page here, that Tony wanted this too, wasn’t just playing along with the world’s worst joke. 

And for a minute he thought Tony actually might. His lips parted on a soft exhale, upper body leaning in that much closer, this look on his face, like he wanted to just as bad as Rhodey. And he may have been the dumbest genius Rhodey had ever met, but he wasn’t this dumb. He had to know what was going on, that this was real. 

But then, abruptly, he was tilting his head away, sliding off the counter to pull back entirely and head across the kitchen. 

“I, um… I should go,” he said, not quite meeting Rhodey’s eyes. “Early day tomorrow.”

Rhodey arched an eyebrow at him, felt his heart sink. “The cupcakes aren’t even done! I thought you wanted cupcakes?” 

Tony gave him a pained smile. “Maybe next time,” he said, grabbing his suit jacket. “See you later.” 

He was gone a second later and Rhodey sighed, then thumped his head against the counter for good measure. Clearly, impossibly (although nothing was impossible when it came to Tony, he should have known that by now) Tony had missed every sign that Rhodey was serious about this. Which left the one thing he should have just done in the first place. 

Using his words. 

***

Rhodey was more than familiar with Tony’s tendency to dwell, so first thing the next morning he headed over to his place. It was early enough that the sun was barely up, fog rolling over the water below the house, but he wasn’t surprised when JARVIS directed him down to the workshop. 

Tony had clearly been working all night, his jacket abandoned just inside the door, and Rhodey winced as he stopped beside it, waiting for Tony to acknowledge him. His back was to the door, but he clearly knew Rhodey was there, body tense as he hammered away at something on the work table. He’d changed into sweatpants, but was still wearing his dress shirt from the night before, untucked and sleeves rolled up with a large grease stain above his right elbow. 

When a good thirty seconds had passed and Tony still hadn’t said anything, Rhodey sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look man, I’m sorry. I thought… Well, I wasn’t thinking, obviously. But I’ll knock it off. I was never trying to make you uncomfortable, Tones, I promise.” 

Tony cursed under his breath as he missed, hammering the table instead, but then he put the hammer down, finally turning to face Rhodey. He looked absolutely destroyed, dark bags under his eyes, but he offered Rhodey a wan smile. 

“Well.” He shrugged one shoulder. “We can’t split up now. The bots have accepted you as their mother. U will be devastated.” 

He was playing it off as a joke, but Rhodey knew Tony. He could see the fear in his eyes, the worry that he might lose Rhodey completely, but even more than that, a bit of hope in his smile. Drawing in a deep breath, Rhodey crossed the room. 

“Okay, no more faking it,” he told him. “I like you, Tony. I mean, you’re my best friend in the entire world, but also, I like you.” 

Tony snorted at that, but he ducked his head and when he looked up at Rhodey again his smile was shy and pleased. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Rhodey confirmed. “A lot. I kinda think about it all the time.” 

Tony was flat out beaming now. “So all the cuddling, and the hand holding, and the ‘practicing’?” 

“It was practice. It was… Practice for what I really wanted. And I probably should have said something when I first realized, but I’m saying it now. I really like you, Tony, and I want to be with you, and I don’t think I’m crazy in thinking that you might feel kind of the same--,”

Tony shook his head quickly, eyes wide. “No. No, I do.” 

Rhodey grinned. “Great. And I think we could really be something great. So, you know…” He took Tony’s hands in his, meeting his eyes so there could be no confusion. “Tony, go out with me, so we don’t have to break up.” 

Tony burst out laughing at that, bright and open and happy and Rhodey couldn’t help laughing with him. “Yeah,” he agreed after a minute, hand squeezing over Rhodey’s. “Yeah, that sounds pretty perfect.”

“Great,” Rhodey agreed. And then, because he’d been waiting for what felt like years, he used his grip on Tony’s hand to tug him in close, until they were pressed chest to chest. Tony yelped at the sudden movement, staring up at him with wide eyes, and while he was still caught off guard Rhodey leaned in, pressing their lips together. Tony made a startled noise, like somehow after all these he still hadn’t expected kissing. But it only took him a second to recover and then he was kissing Rhodey back, hands wrapping tight around Rhodey’s back as he parted his lips, tongues sliding together. 

They kissed until Rhodey thought he might actually pass out and pulled back, panting for air. Tony leaned back against the table and blinked up at him, a dazed smile on his face. “Wow,” he breathed. “That was… Wow.” He grinned wide when Rhodey just snorted at him and settled his hands on Rhodey’s hips, holding him close. “Hey, you know what I think we should do?” 

“What’s that?” 

Tony’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Practice.”

@ironhusbandsbingo @tonystarkbingo

[the-l-spacer]

Safe (Dragon x Defiant hurt/comfort)

ao3 SB

Summary: Based on the fic dialogue prompt "Please just… just hold me"

Takes place a little before Teneral e.3 - Preoccupied with helping Dracheheim, Dragon hasn't had much time to process what had happened to her during Gold Morning. Some hours spent alone changes that, and Colin helps her to deal with the aftermath.

Note: This is my first fanfic for Worm/Parahumans so! Please b nice! Also, I am. Very sorry in advance if this reads as OOC for either Dragon or Defiant, and I'm sorry if I got any canon details wrong oops-

All that said, enjoy some Dragon/Defiant fluff n angst! I heard this fandom isn't big on shipping but hey hope u like it anyways 👉👈

Dragon was fine.

All fine. Tip-top shape. Of perfectly sound body (which went without saying) and mind. She totally wasn’t having one of those bad days, and she definitely wasn’t letting her mind wander to a dark place. To memories of him. After all, there were countless other matters to worry over, weren’t there?

Or at least, that was what she tried to tell herself.

And she wasn’t wrong, at least not completely. In the wake of Scion’s attack, the damage done and the many needs of the few survivors had consumed her every hour. Already, the remaining Capes were being run ragged fighting for resources and dealing with conflicts among their people, simply trying to stay afloat long enough to rebuild. As one of the few capes that required little to no rest, her and Defiant had found themselves scrambling from place to place, trying to help wherever they could.

Did the people in this settlement have enough food? Did this family have enough firewood to last the winter? Would that group of children even live to see their teenage years?

After all was said and done, Dragon never had more than a few minutes of time to herself in a day, and she liked it that way.

Now she sat, in the cabin her and Defiant built together overlooking the village of Dracheheim. Defiant was out repairing their craft, and insisted that she stay inside and rest, the first time she had an hour or more to herself in months.

She had put on some stupid comedy on TV to distract herself, but as she curled up on the couch, she felt her mind wander to places against her will, places she tried so so hard not to go. For with every thought consumed with ensuring humanity’s survival, she didn’t have to think about the time she had spent at his mercy.

At Teacher’s mercy.

She felt a little growl of frustration leave her. Dragon was more than well aware of that old mind trick; if one was told not to think of a pink elephant, one would do just that, instinctively. So she shook her head, once, twice, tred to pay attention to the movie instead of dwelling on events that had happened months ago.

But it was hard. Just as she would begin to lose herself in a plot thread, something small would come up. This time, it was the personality of one of the mentor characters that made her side-slip. His smug mannerisms, his skeeviness rammed images to her mind’s forefront Memories of hands reaching and digging into her brain. Icy fingers forcing neural pathways in directions that just felt wrong. Teacher violating her, leaving her completely helpless under him. Powerless.

When she felt a hand settle on her shoulder, she jerked away, out of the ball she had unconsciously curled into, caught herself on the couch’s edge with her arm.

“Shit!” She swore, craning her head to fix a scowl at the culprit. “Colin, don’t creep up on me like that!”

“Didn’t mean to, sorry.” Like her, Colin was out of his power armour, clad in a heavy jumper and sweatpants to ward off Dracheheim’s chill. “You alright?”

“I’m— wait, let me turn this thing down. I feel ridiculous talking to you with Legally Blonde on— I’m fine.”

“Never watched it,” he remarked, settling on the couch. “But I don’t care about the movie, I’m worried about you.”

Always to the point. It’s one of the things she loved about Colin.

“I know you’ve been telling me you’re ‘fine’, but I somehow find that hard to believe. You’re never caught off your guard like this. Usually, you can sense me coming even when I’m trying to be quiet.” He had positioned himself carefully, close to her, but not so close they were touching, and for that she was grateful.

“Well, I—”

Before she could play her off as nothing more than a faux pas, deflect playfully like she was planning to do, Colin cut her off.

“Something’s bothering you.”

Not phrased as a question, but a statement of fact. For all her boyfriend bemoaned his inability to ‘people’, he was surprisingly perceptive when it came to her. Drat.

“It’s nothing major. And really,” she emphasised, “I’m fine.”

Colin raised an eyebrow.

“... Lately, I haven’t had the time to be anything other than.”

A nod of understanding. “I get that. This has to be, what, the first time you’ve had more than fifteen minutes to yourself in God knows how long.”

“Exactly.” Dragon sighed. “The curse that comes with being a workaholic; I never know what to do with myself when I’m forced to take a break, so… unpleasant thoughts start working their way in.”

Colin stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. Nothing else for it, then. She drew her legs up on the couch, rested her chin on her knees. Softly, she asked the question that had been weighing silently on her ever since Gold Morning, “Colin, do you think it’s possible? To undo what Teacher did to me?”

He frowned, a crease forming on half of his forehead that still remained organic. “You know I’ve b- I’m still trying. In every spare moment that I’ve had--”

“-- not a lot, I know, we’ve both been occupied--”

“--I’ve been staring at your code, making sense of it. I think it is possible, but progress will be… slow. I’m sorry.”

There were moments when she didn’t regret building herself a body as close to a real human as possible, a body that allowed her to touch, feel, taste, and even experience pain. The feather-light touch of snowflakes settling in her hair was some such moments, along with the comforting press of the weighted blanket (that she had gotten Colin as a birthday gift) against her body. But regret was precisely what came at her boyfriend’s statement, as she experienced the thoroughly unpleasant feeling of her stomach dropping, a chill running up her spine.

“I understand.” That was all she could manage, numbly, before falling silent.

Colin got up abruptly, and the empty spot on the couch somehow made things worse.

“No, no. Listen to me. I will figure it out. If it means not eating or sleeping, that can be managed. You know I can optimise my body further. I’ll do everything it takes to free you.”

He was getting worked up, pacing on the carpet before her, but somehow, his words failed to reassure.

“And if you can’t wait that long, I’ll recruit people. Tinkers. Scientists. I’ll keep your identity a secret of course, and with a team, there’ll be a chance of progressing faster, making more progress than I could on my own.”

“Colin.”

“And if that fails, I’ll hunt Teacher down. No hole that motherfucker could hide in would be safe. I’ll force him to undo his own handiwork, and after, I’ll kill him.”

“Colin.”

He stopped pacing, hands flexing as if to wring an imaginary Teacher’s neck. Upon seeing her expression, he deflated.

“I’m talking out of my ass. I’m sorry.”

“No, stop apologising to me. None of this was your fault.” She breathed in, out, regulating her artificial heartbeat, which had gone faster and faster since the start of his indignant tirade. “I just asked because I wanted to know, and I appreciate your honest answer. You seriously don’t need to modify yourself more than you already have on my behalf. You know you’re the only one I trust with my code, and you definitely don’t need to go on a crusade against Teacher just yet, what with the amnesty and all.”

The unspoken but hung in the air.

“But it’s hard,” she said, voice cracking on the last word. “I can’t have a spare moment to myself, can’t even watch a stupid movie without being reminded of him, of what he did to me. Even once you fix my code -- don’t give me that look because you will manage it, somehow-- I don’t think it’ll ever go away.”

She wrapped her arms around her knees, curled into herself.

Colin leaned over, hovering anxiously.

“What should I do, then?” He asked, helpless, “I’m guessing you don’t want me to leave and work on the problem.”

“No!” She blurted out, a tad more forcefully than she intended. Then, quieter, “No. Stay here, please. Just… just hold me.”

She felt him sit back on the couch beside her, felt hands encircle her. She flinched back, ever so slightly, the memory of Teacher’s cold touch almost overwhelming her. His fingers interlocked with hers, assuring her that he was here, that she was with him. She latched on, focused on the callused fingers of his left hand, the cool metal of his right.

Then, she let go. His arms folded around her, and she fell into his embrace.

This was what made having a ‘human’ body worth it; the way she fit against him, her head tucked under his chin, eyes shut tight, as she just breathed.

Teacher didn’t exist. No one else did, outside the both of them, wrapped together on a small couch in their small home.

She was safe.

-

Eventually, they had to break apart. Colin was still human, under all his cybernetic augmentations, and staying locked in one place for too long tended to end with sore muscles.

Instead, they cuddled. Dragon propped her legs up on her boyfriend’s lap, and leaned against his shoulder. In response, Colin reached out, pulling the weighted blanket over the both of them.

After a while, he spoke. “I won’t lie, I can’t promise you that everything will be okay. That I’ll reverse the damage to your code.”

She hugged his arm. “You’re brilliant. I’ll trust you to figure things out.”

She expected some smugness on his part, after that little boost to his ego. Instead, he sighed. “This isn’t false modesty. You know I don’t do that. I… I genuinely don’t know if I’ll succeed with this. Doesn’t mean I won’t try my damndest, though.”

Dragon hummed. “Good enough for me. And in the meantime… keep me grounded, on the bad days?”

“You already do that for me,” he said, a slight smile on his face. “It's about high time I returned the favour.

They kissed once, twice.

A knock on the door.

Colin growled in annoyance. “Don’t suppose it’s not urgent?”

“Mmmmf.”

The knock came again.

“We.. had better go get it. Someone probably needs our help.”

“Probably.” Colin agreed. “Until our next breather?”

She kissed him one last time.

“Until then.”

[ericsonclan]

Made to Last

Summary: Allison's mind is clouded by fear and negative thoughts causing Prisha and Violet to worry and go check up on her.

Word Count: 2549

Read on AO3:

Allison stared up blankly at the beams of her bunk bed, her eyes studying the metal. Her mind seemed weighed down by what was spiraling in it. She didn’t know what it was but for some reason an uneasy feeling had washed over her the moment she had woken up today. A feeling that made her heart feel heavy and sent a tingling feeling down her arms that made the hairs stand on end. It wasn’t a feeling that she never experienced before, it was just that over time it had lessened. But now it had resurfaced.

She knew the reason why it had come back: it was because life was too good right now. She had a roof over her head, didn’t have to listen to the strict rules that had been beaten into her over the years while she was with the Delta, she had a group that felt like family to her and a place that felt like home, an uncommon concept for Allison ever since the world fell apart. She began to nervously pet the possum that was sleeping on her lap, her fingers rubbing the fur in between them as her mind continued to spin.

She had people who really truly loved her, wanted the best for her and would do anything to protect her. The thought terrified Allison. Not because she didn’t want that love but she was worried that sooner or later she would lose it. She always did. Allison knew the cold, hard truth: nothing lasts forever.One day the other shoe would drop and she would be back where she was years ago. Alone and afraid. It had happened before and it would happen again. With a groan, Allison scooted up into a sitting position, causing Garbage to tumble over with an annoyed hiss.

“Sorry,” Allison picked up the possum and placed it beside her, giving it a few loving pats before getting off the bed. It didn’t matter if she felt down today, there was work to be done and she was going to it. Her feet dragged across the floor as she grabbed her spear hammer and exited her and Willy’s dorm room. Her footsteps echoed throughout the hall and her mind wandered back towards the negative thoughts that plagued her mind. It was clear that they would be there for the entire day but there was nothing she could do.

So she continued down the hall and towards the door that led to the courtyard. The lively sounds of chatter made her glance up to see AJ happily playing with some of the younger kids while Prisha tinkered away at one of the picnic tables. Why she hadn’t bothered to go over to the workshop Allison had a pretty good guess. Knowing her it was probably that Prisha had gotten too caught up in the latest invention and couldn’t wait to work on it. Allison’s attention was pulled away from her parental figure, however, when she heard a bright, lively voice call out her name.

“Allie!” Willy ran over and stopped right in front of her with a  huge grin. The smile faded for a second though when he noticed her gloomy aura. “Hey, are you doing okay?” he asked with a concerned expression.

Allison looked up her boyfriend and gave a short nod. “Yeah,” Her eyes looked down at the ground again.

Willy didn’t seem to buy it. “Well, I have to go hunting with Aasim but when I get back we can talk. Okay?” His eyes tried to search hers but she kept them hidden, only giving a short nod in response. Willy wrapped her up in a hug and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “A kiss to help you feel better until I’m back,” He pulled back and gave a loving smile. Allison gave a short smile back and Willy gave her hand a quick squeeze before readjusting the bow on his back and running over to the front gate where Aasim was waiting. The two goateed men gave their final goodbye waves then headed out for the day to check the traps.

Allison’s dark eyes focused on the gate for a second, a small inkling of fear appearing in her mind before she squashed in and continued strolling further into the courtyard to see where she could help for the day.

Something was up. Violet may be partially blind but even she could tell that something was different with Allison today. Her stoic, calm demeanor had a more pessimistic edge to it and the emotions in her words felt more cut off and stilted. The blonde stared at the herb in her hand and tried to think of some sort of way to get Allison to open up about what was bugging her.

“You’re looking at that herb rather intensely.” Prisha’s voice appeared beside her. Violet glanced up at her love who leaned over and gave a gentle kiss before sitting down.

“Got stuff on my mind,” Violet began to pick at the herbs to prep them to dry for future meals. She remained silent for a moment as she adjusted her glasses then spoke again. “Something seems off with Allison today,”

“You’ve noticed that too,” Prisha’s voice held a worried edge. “I figured at first it was just that she hadn’t slept well since it was rather cold last night but now,” Prisha’s eyes wandered over to the girl in question. Allison was drawing pictures with a stick along with Savannah and Maisy who seemed to be having much more fun than Allison. The girl looked rather sad and lost in her thoughts. Prisha and Violet continued to watch for a minute or two. “I wonder what we can do.”

Violet thought about it for a few seconds. “Let’s go fishing together. I find going there helps clear my head. I can do this work afterwards.”

“Alright, that sounds good.” Prisha rose to her feet and offered her hand to Violet. The two wandered over towards Allison who glanced up when they drew near.

“Hey,” Allison mumbled then returned to her drawing.

“We’re going to the fishing shack and we need your help,” Prisha’s words made Allison glance up at her two parental figures again.

“Why?”

“Because it looks like you could use it,” Violet’s words caught Allison off guard and a flicker of shock and sadness danced in her eyes before they returned to their usual stoic look.

“Fine,” Allison got up and handed over the stick to Savannah. “Gotta go. I’ll draw later.” Those words made the kids sad but they soon returned to drawing. The trio began to get ready to head out, grabbing the necessary buckets then making their way to the gates when suddenly Louis’ bright smile appeared before them.

“Hey, where are you three lovely people heading?”

“Out,” Violet muttered and double checked to make sure her meat cleaver was securely in its sheath.

“We’re going to the fishing shack. I figure with all three of us we could get quite the haul.” Louis studied Prisha’s face for a moment and picked up the fact that there was clearly more going on here than just a family fishing trip.

“Okay, well, be sure to stay safe!” He gave a friendly wave then ran off towards the garden to help Clementine. With that the trio was off, wandering down the well-treaded path towards the fishing shack. Allison was silent the whole way there, only making a sound when she faced off against a walker as she bashed its skull in with the hammer part of her spear. Prisha and Violet didn’t push for any conversation, figuring it would be best to focus on such things when they were working on catching fish.

Prisha let go of Violet’s hand for a moment as they walked toward the shack when she noticed a walker roaming nearby, unclipping her ice axe and swinging at its skull. The dull light in its eyes faded away as it crumbled to the ground. Soon Allison and Violet had caught up with Prisha who put away her weapon.

“I’ll get the spears. Come on, Allison,” Violet walked forward and held open the door. Allison muttered a thanks and walked forward too, immediately making her way to where the fishing spears were placed. Grabbing one for herself, she grabbed another and handed it to Violet then grabbed a third one for Prisha. With spears in hand the pair went back outside where Prisha gave them a warm smile as she just finished placing down the buckets. “Ready to catch some fish?”

Prisha’s question was met by a half-hearted shrug by Allison. She took a spot by a small patch of dried-out grass and held up the spear as her eyes focused on the water. Violet and Prisha shared a look before taking their own fishing spots. Violet stood on a small rock by the water’s edge while Prisha took a spot on the other side of Allison.

“So, you seem a bit lost in your thoughts,” Prisha began, studying the water before jabbing her spear and catching the first fish.

“You can share if you want,” Violet added as her gaze remained on the water’s surface. Allison remained silent, her mind swarming with too many thoughts. Her gaze flinched for a moment, causing her to miss an easy catch. Allison remained quiet but the look in her eyes showed enough for the two to know that whatever was plaguing her mind wasn’t letting go.

“I’ll catch the next one,” was all Allison said before her stoic expression took over her face once more. This should be a nice moment to have with some of the people she cared about most. Instead she felt tense and lost.

As her dark eyes looked down at the water, Allison was reminded of happier times with those she had lost over the years. Different faces appeared through her mind: happy, bright people that this life had taken away from her. Those who deserved to have simply, joyful moments like she had been able to have at Ericson. The feeling of sadness overwhelmed her and tears appeared at the rims of her eyes.

“Allison,” Prisha’s concerned tone made Allison frown as she angrily brushed away her tears.

“I know,” The girl replied simply and stabbed the water even though there wasn’t a fish in sight. “I know how the world works.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Violet took a step down from her fishing spot and looked towards her daughter figure. Allison took a shaky breath and glanced over towards Violet.

“Things are too good right now. I have too much: Willy, you, Prisha.” Her grip tightened on the fishing spear. “Sooner or later, I’ll lose one of you.”

“Allison, I know that the world is cruel, but there’s no need to fear.” Prisha reassured. “Willy, Violet and myself along with all the others - we’ll be safe.”

“Others have said that too!” Allison snapped and looked at Prisha, “And now they are dead!”

Prisha was taken aback by Allison’s sharp tone but she couldn’t blame her for her reaction. Life had truly been unkind to the girl. It seemed as though it enjoyed giving her the false hope that things could be good then pulled the rug out from under her. Leaving her to pick up the broken pieces of a heart that she struggled to keep together.

“You’re right, others have said that and then they ended up dead,” Violet put down her spear and crossed her arms, her own emotions beginning to twist her heart. “That's just the kind of bullshit world we live in. But we have each other and we’ll fight tooth and nail to keep each other safe.” Her pale eyes locked with Allison’s dark ones. “I can guarantee that.”

“We will continue to protect each other,” Prisha caught another fish and used the edge of the bucket to push it off the spear. “Ericson is our home, one that is built to last. And together I believe we’ll remain safe for years to come. We won’t disappear on you.”

Those words made Allison look away. Clearly it hadn’t been the best choice of words but regardless she knew that Prisha had the best intentions. Violet and Prisha weren’t perfect, they couldn’t offer the perfect words to her but they were trying. They made it clear that they wouldn’t give up on Allison. She knew Willy never would either, everyone at Ericson would be there for her. That thought made Allison’s heat calm and recenter. Allison stared at the ground for a few seconds then resumed her fishing stance. With a deep breath she jabbed the water and caught a fish. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Violet and Prisha shared a relieved look; they knew they couldn’t make those thoughts fully disappear but they would always be there to reassure Allison. The three began to fish again, their conversations turning to lighter topics as the buckets grew more and more full.

After a while Allison stepped back from the stream, a small smile on her face. “We should head back,” She began to move towards the fishing shack when Prisha spoke up.

“It’s not too late. If you’d like we could wander down the stream and look for some rocks,” Those words made Allison’s eyes shine in excitement. With a quick nod, she took the three spears and placed them away in the shack before reemerging, ready to add to her collection. The three of them walked along the stream, all of them on careful lookout for any unusual rocks.

“Allison, I think I found one.” Violet looked up from her spot where she crouched by a deep grey rock that was smoothed from being tossed and turned in the water. Allison knelt down and picked it up, closely examining it before giving a happy small smile. Violet returned the smile then continued on with the search. After a while they had found four rocks that Allison was proud to add to her collection. With a smile Violet picked up one of the buckets and took Prisha’s hand in hers while Allison took the other bucket and walked along Violet’s other side. The three walked in content silence as a few leaves fell from the trees that covered the path back home.

“Thanks,” Allison’s voice drew the other two’s attention towards her. “I did need that.” She gave a small smile which Prisha and Violet mirrored then continued to walk forward. As they neared the gates, Allison’s eyes caught sight of her pet crow. Crowbar was in the middle of staring intently at one of the bars of the gates before he heard the sharp whistle from his human friend. He flew over and greeted Allison with a caw. She looked up at him with a soft expression.

“Allie!” Willy smiled and gave a wave from the watchtower. The gesture made Allison’s heart warm; in that moment all her fears and sadness washed away. Her heart and mind instead focused on the positive and all the good that she had right now. She wanted to make sure she had this happiness for as long as possible.

[yadds]

Tony Reappears, Pt 5 - Tony gains a new confidant in the form of one Peter Parker, Pepper tries to understand.

Part 1 - what would happen if Tony appeared out of nowhere to be found by Peter, who’s still haunted by Beck’s reality bending? Part 2 - Tony is in bad shape and Peter helps, Strange snarks, and Pepper gives him the kick in the pants he needs. Part 3 - Tony has come back with more than he bargained for. Part 4: Tony is Iron Man. Plus, Tony gets to go home.

____________________________________________________________________

It was a Wednesday night and Tony was trying desperately to find a distraction. 

He’d hit a block in his control design and was spiraling, down, down into the depths of his bitterness and guilt. He couldn’t focus on anything, head jerking up periodically as he drifted in and out of consciousness while sitting at his work table. He also couldn’t stand the thought of actually trying to sleep in this mindset. 

He flung his schematic holos away, growling in frustration as he dropped his head into his hands. His eyes cut to the side to check the time. 12:15 AM. Too late to call and pester reasonable people. He sighed. 

But wait. Maybe not too late for a college student. 

“Fri, call-“ he cut himself off. No. What if Peter has a big exam in the morning and had just gotten to sleep? Or what if he was out actually enjoying his life? It’s not like he was just sitting around his dorm waiting for Tony to call. 

“Who would you like me to call, boss?” Friday asked. 

“Never mind, sweetheart. I just saw the time,” he fibbed, ”I don’t think anyone is up for a call from me right now.”

“Peter is currently taking a break from patrolling,” Friday dutifully reported. Talk about an intuitive AI. 

Tony arched a brow. “Is he now? And how do you know that?”

“Karen told me,” she replied. Right, they were basically connected at the metaphorical hip now. 

He mulled this information over for a minute before he bit the bullet. “Okay, old girl. Call him up,” he called, leaning back in his chair and steepling his hands over his chest. 

He was weirdly nervous as he listened to the phone ring. 

His heart was racing by the time Peter answered with a breathless, “Hello?”

Tony’s mouth opened but nothing came out, suddenly speechless. What was he even supposed to say? I was feeling mopey so I called someone half my age to cheer me up? What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter questioned as the silence drug on. “Shit, did I hang up on you? Damn it, Karen, I thought we’d fixed that! Ughhhhh why am I this way? Well we’d better call him back before-”

Tony chuckled, nerves evaporating as his chest filled with amused affection. “No need, kid, I’m here.”

“Oh, great! Except for the fact that you definitely just heard me rambling like an idiot. Am I talking fast? I feel like I’m talking really fast.”

“Definitely fast. You good? I thought you were patrolling - you’re not doing that high are you? Don’t make me lecture you about stupid choices,” he warned teasingly. 

“No, of course not! I’ve just been slinging around a lot, which gets my blood pumping and gets me kinda hyped up, you know?” 

Tony nodded. “Ah, to be young and enjoy life just for the hell of it,” he said sagely. 

“Don’t you get that feeling too? I mean, come on, you can fly!” Peter asked, huffing as Tony heard him sit down heavily. 

“I guess I used to,” Tony said thoughtfully. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done it just for kicks, though.”

“Well you should!” Peter insisted. 

Tony was quiet for a moment as he thought about it, remembering the thrill of flight the first time in his Mark II. But the idea of getting back in the suit made his chest sieze. He drew in a sharp breath before gathering himself enough to respond quietly, “I don’t know if I can.”

Peter hummed. “Yeah, I get that,” he said softly. “It took me a while, too. I always had flashbacks of...well, you know. And panic attacks. But it got better,” he offered. 

Tony felt that knot in his chest loosen just slightly. It didn’t make it all better, but it did help, knowing someone else understood what he was going through and could validate it. He appreciated how Peter was so casual about it - he obviously took it seriously but it was also something totally normal and okay. But he’d known for years that Peter is much stronger than he is, and not just physically. 

“Maybe,” Tony replied hesitantly, not quite as optimistic about his own mental health improvement capability. He’d been in some pretty tough spots before and come back, but this was the first time he’d died.  But so had Peter and half the rest of the world, so apparently that wasn’t even particularly noteworthy.

“So, anything exciting tonight, Spiderling?” Tony asked.

Peter graciously allowed the subject change, rambling happily about stopping a mugger, walking a girl to her car who was leaving work late, playing catch with a couple kids in the park.  It was amazingly relaxing, listening to Peter recounting his night, voice animated in a way that indicated wild gesticulation on the other end of the line.

It made his throat a little thick, remembering how fucking wholesome this kid was.  This was the first time he’d gotten to hear this again since...before Titan, almost ten years ago.  He was suddenly grateful to himself for making it possible to reverse the snap, in a way he hadn’t been able to truly appreciate until this very moment.  

He realized Peter had paused, the quiet stretching before he questioned softly, “Mr. Stark?  You okay?”

Tony cleared his throat.  “Yeah, ‘course.  Keep telling me about the- the, uh, search for the best slice of pizza in Manhattan; I’m dying to know, here.”

After another hesitation, Peter continued, detailing all the places he’d visited in the past few weeks. 

Tony leaned back, closed his eyes, and smiled. 

.

A week later found Tony standing in front of one of his suits that had made it back to the lab, kept all this time, he assumed, for sentimental reasons. 

He reached out but recoiled before he could make contact, breath catching. 

Shaking his head to clear it, he turned quickly and went back to his work table. 

.

They had a schedule now. Tony spent the weekends at the cabin with the girls and occasionally picked up Morgan in the evenings after school for a few hours. 

He’d finished his control protocols (now named FEMA because he was his own natural disaster), which used subdermal chips to monitor his vitals and would deploy nanites from the wristbands he now wore to restrain him in the instance of nighttime adrenaline spikes - an unfortunately common occurrence, as he was plagued by nightmares. The restraints didn’t particularly help with the nightmare situation, but they were a necessity. 

He’d start out in bed with Pepper, but when she fell asleep, he felt the panic settle gradually over him until his chest felt concave with the pressure of it, breath coming shorter and shorter. So he’d roll out of bed and go down to the crude lab he had out there, usually tinkering with cars and blasting music loud enough that he’d hopefully drown out that inner voice whispering soft, hateful self-incriminations.

He’d quickly discovered that alcohol no longer had any effect on him. He also discovered, in a fit of desperation, that neither did drugs. So his faithful old friends had deserted him when he needed them the most. 

So he was trying so-called “healthy coping mechanisms” now, like hard work and spending time with loved ones. Which was great, but Tony’s issues were gargantuan and he was an addict at heart; he craved any release like a starving man craved food (which he was actually quite familiar with, so he knew it was apt). He knew this, knew he came on way too strong, too needy, and was just...too much. In his attempts to not smother his people, he found himself becoming withdrawn and distant, tormented by the certainty that he’d drive them away with his clingy dependence. 

Tony was terrified Pepper would remember just how inadequate he’d always been, how much his love for her, his money, his intelligence never overcame his inability to give her what she needed.  He knew she still talked to Tom, and he’d never ask her to completely cut him out of her life, but it didn’t help his insecurities.  He would see Pepper’s jaw clench or her eyes dart away and he’d find a way to quickly shut up and make himself scarce.

Happy would check his watch and Tony would suddenly recall an important task running in the lab he needed to check on. 

Morgan, his sweet angel, would gladly hang off him until the end of time, but he knew she needed to get back to having a normal life. Well, as normal as life gets when you have a family of billionaires and superheroes. 

And he also didn’t want her to see behind the curtain, to see what a weak man her father really was. 

Rhodey came by when he could, but he was kept busy with his duties in DC and a new wife. Tony had done enough to damage Rhodey’s career and relationships in the past. He didn’t need to add his newest level of instability onto his friend like that. 

And Peter. He never seemed annoyed by Tony’s random check-ins but also didn’t have a problem telling him when he was busy, which actually did more to allay Tony’s worries about being a nuisance than anything. Tony never found any indications from Peter that he should pull back. But he did anyway. Because, well, Peter was a goddamn blessing to the world. And if Tony could, he’d bottle him up and keep him all for himself. 

So, anyway, “healthy” was...probably still not an accurate term for his coping mechanisms, shoddy as they were. But at least he wasn’t poisoning his body into an early grave. Again. Ha-fucking-ha. 

.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter questioned one night. 

“Yeah, kid?” Tony replied easily, distracted by the circuit board he was soldering while they talked. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked. 

Tony’s brows snapped down and he automatically looked up at the screen in front of him despite the fact that this was an audio call, which was frustrating since he’d really like to see Peter’s face to see if he could tell what had brought on this madness. 

“What?” He wracked his brain, trying to figure out what the hell he’d done now that made Peter feel like he’d done something wrong. He hissed as the soldering iron pressed heavily into his finger. He finally set the tool down and looked down to see the circuit board he’d been working on was ruined now. Not surprising. 

“What?” he said again. “Of course not. I mean not as far as I know. What the hell are you talking about?”

Peter’s heavy sigh echoed through the lab. “I dunno, just thought maybe I’d pissed you off or done something to annoy you,” he said, too casually.  Tony could perfectly imagine the shrug and eye aversion that would go with that statement.

“What?” Tony intoned again.  He knew he sounded like a broken record but seriously, what?  “Not at all, kid.  I mean, not more than normal.  Which was a joke, sorry, I can’t help myself.  In all seriousness though, I’m not upset at you.  Why would you even think that?”

“Okay, sorry, it’s nothing.  Anyway-” Peter said quickly, trying to change the subject.

“No, no, no,” Tony interrupted.  “Nuh uh.  Circle back around here.  I’m not letting this one go.  I need to know what I’m doing that’s making you feel like that so that I can fix it.”

“No!  You’re not doing anything wrong, Mr. Stark,” Peter insisted.

“Well, obviously I am.  Just tell me what’s going on, kid,” Tony coaxed.

After a brief hesitation, Peter took a deep breath before responding.  “You’ve just been kind of...distant, I guess.  I felt like we’d been getting along so well when I was visiting and we were talking on the phone more and it was like we were...friends, you know?  And it just seemed like lately you haven’t been as engaged and you’ve been calling less.  But I know you’re super busy and you’ve got a lot going on and more important people to hang out with, so I’m sorry, I’m just being overly sensitive.”

Tony’s elbows fell down onto the table in front of him, hands cradling his head.  Of fucking course.  His idea to help spare the kid had just ended up hurting him.  And how was he supposed to explain this without sounding as fucked up as he actually was?

“Mr. Stark?” Peter pressed softly.

“Yeah kid, still here.  Just...give me just a minute, okay?” he replied wearily.

Tony listened to Peter’s soft breaths, the rustling of the wind, the NYC traffic far in the background over the line.  

“Pete, I - fuck, I don’t know really know what to say,” he said, unable to come up with one of his usual lines.  “Just know that it is definitely not your fault.  I’m not tired of you or upset at you or any other bullshit you’re coming up with in that head of yours.  And I don’t know what ‘more important’ people you think I’m hanging out with, but that’s definitely not the case either.  I mean, hell, I think only maybe ten people are even aware I’m alive.  But regardless, even if I had every single person on the planet at my disposal, you would still be one of the most important people to me.  So don’t sell yourself so short.”

He heard Peter’s breath hitch slightly before he cleared his throat.  “Oh.  Well, okay.  And, uh, same.  Just so you know.”

Tony’s lips twitched in a tired smile.  Despite the awkwardness of it, he knew Peter was ridiculous sincere about it.  “And hey, you can always call me, too - stop making me do all the work.”

“Okay,” Peter said.  “I just don’t want to bother you.  Between trying to get your family back together and figure out your new body, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, so I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

“Never,” Tony replied immediately.  “Nah, kid, you’re not a nuisance.  I like hearing from you.  And honestly, you’re probably my best source for figuring out the physical craziness and I’m not utilizing you near enough for that.”

Peter hummed.  “Okay, well just promise to let me know if you’re busy or if I’m getting to be too much.”

“Same,” Tony responded, echoing Peter’s earlier statement.

As Peter huffed a laugh, Tony felt confident enough that had been handled as much as it needed to be and launched into an explanation of his current project.  

Thank God, because the moment of touchy-feely honesty was surely going to start making his skin crawl. 

.

It became a thing: Tony calling when he was stressed and couldn’t sleep, Peter calling frustrated about classes, and everything in between.  Peter realized that Tony was basically under house arrest so he’d send him pictures of random things he saw on the street - a cute dog, a weird sign, his lunch for the day, a crazy outfit someone was wearing.

More and more often, Pepper would come downstairs looking for Tony when he left their bed on the weekends to find him lounging in the lab, laughing as he talked to Peter in the middle of the night.

At first, he’d see her come in and nod and she’d smile back, relieved to see him happy and connecting with someone else.

Tonight, she was not smiling.  Tony noticed her jaw clenched and eyes shuttered when he glanced at her and he frowned.

“Hey, Pete, I’m gonna have to cut this short, okay?  We’ll talk later,” Tony cut in.

“Oh,” Peter said dumbly.  “Uh, yeah, sure, no problem.  Good night Mr. Stark!”

“Night, kid,” Tony replied before promptly hanging up.

“What’s wrong, Pep?” Tony asked, turning and giving her his full attention.  

She stood in front of him, arms crossed and fingers tapping agitatedly on her opposite elbow as she battled with whether to say what she really wanted.  Tony was quiet as he waited for her to decide.

“I’m trying to be understanding, Tony,” Pepper finally said.  “I am.  But are you ever going to be able to sleep in the same bed as me or is this going to be how it is for the rest of our lives?”

“Honestly?  I have no idea.  As long as I feel like you or Morgan are in danger then the answer is no.”

“Isn’t that what the FEMA protocol is for?” she asked.

“Yes, but it’s one thing to have it work in a test situation and another thing completely to trust it with your life.  And I don’t.  Do you think I don’t want to be able to sleep next to you?” Tony said, frustrated.

“Some days I feel like I really don’t know.  You seem perfectly content to come down here and talk to Peter every night,” she said.

“Is that a problem?” Tony asked, brows furrowed.  “Me talking to Peter?”

“No.  Yes.  I don’t know,” Pepper said, sighing, hand coming up to cover her face.  “I just feel like you’re able to talk to him in a way we haven’t been able to manage and I’m...jealous,” she admitted.  “And yes, I know how incredibly childish and stupid this sounds.”

“Hey,” Tony said softly, standing up and coming to grab her by the elbows and pull her close.  “No, it’s not stupid at all.  I get it.  Mine and Peter’s relationship is easier than ours, and it’s not fair.  But it’s because we have a simpler relationship - we’re not trying to juggle a romantic relationship, a parenting relationship, and a potential working relationship in addition to our friendship.”

“But it’s not just that,” Pepper said, looking up at him.  “You talk to him in a way you don’t talk to me.  And I never see you laugh like that with me - it’s like you’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Tony dropped his gaze, pulling back slightly.  “I guess I also don’t feel like I have as much to lose with Peter.”

“Because he doesn’t mean as much to you or because you think he’s a sure thing and I’m not?” Pepper asked bluntly.

He pulled back another step, sighing as he ran his hand through his hair.  “I wouldn’t say Peter necessarily means less to me. Of course he doesn’t mean more than you, he’s just important to me in a different way - like how you and Morgan and Happy are all important to me in different ways.”

“And?”

Tony didn’t want to answer the second part of that question.  But Pepper was staring expectently at him, no out in sight.  “What do you want me to say, Pepper?” he asked wearily.

“I want you to tell me why you always act like you’ve got one foot out the door.”

Tony grit his teeth before replying.  “Because I know I’m gonna fuck this up and I still don’t really know where I stand with you.  So instead of bumbling my way through it, it just seems...I don’t know, safer, I guess, to just be ready for it all to explode in my face so I’m prepared for the inevitable end.”

“You’re being a coward,” Pepper said harshly, eyes filmy and lower lip trembling.  

Tony recoiled, eyes hurt and wary, but didn’t deny it. “You’re right,” he admitted softly. “But can you honestly tell me that you’re not waiting for the same thing, Pep?”

She immediately started shaking her head. “No, of course I’m not! I…” but she trailed off. 

“I see it,” Tony cut in before she could gather herself.  “I see how you’re always waiting for me to disappoint, bracing yourself for how to deal with it and make this work. I’ve always admired your problem-solving abilities, honey, but this shouldn’t have to be something that you grit your teeth and push through just to get it done. I don’t want to be another chore.”

Pepper shut her eyes tight, brow scrunched in pain briefly before she opened them again. She sniffled quietly, a tear tracking slowly down her left cheek as the rest of her face remained stoic.

As the silence drew out, she sighed, shoulders slumping. “Maybe that’s true. And I’m sorry for making you feel that way.”

Tony shrugged in response, scuffing his foot across the floor. 

“But I still want to work on this, on us,” she said. 

“Me too, honey,” Tony murmured, stepping back into her space. 

Pepper smiled tremulously, reaching out and twining her fingers behind his neck. “So come to bed,” she coaxed. 

Tony stiffened, shaking his head. But as he opened his mouth, she put her finger to his lips, smile turning coy. “Beds aren’t just for sleeping, Tony.”

Eyes widening, Tony blinked helplessly for several seconds before gathering her in his arms and bolting for the main house, Pepper screeching in laughter on the way.

.

It was wonderful. 

The closeness, the intimacy, was everything he’d craved, miles of warm, smooth skin against his own. He trembled violently, overwhelmed, skin soaking up the contact it had been deprived of for so, so long.

It was beautiful. 

His hands glided over every inch of her, worshiping her body until she’d pulled him back up impatiently. He sank into her, warmth that permeated through him, down to his bones. 

It was earth-shattering. 

As she came apart beneath him and he reached his peak, he felt his blood surge, hands flying to the headboard to brace himself. Groaning deeply, his hips jolted forward and the headboard exploded in his grip. 

It was terrible. 

Chest heaving, he looked down and froze, seeing her wide eyes staring up at him, splintered shards of wood in her hair. He scrambled backwards, all that glorious warmth turned to ice in his veins. Despite her rushed assurances, he stumbled out of the room. 

It was never happening again.

____________________________________________________________________

So I ended up having to split up this update.  Because I seem to have a major problem with not having an ending that’s depressing.  

I’ve got a pretty good chunk of the next part written (look forward to Peter visiting Tony but everything still being frustratingly sweet and platonic, and a brief return mention of badass/scary!Peter) so hopefully the delay between updates will be shorter buuuuut no guarantees.  Kids, y’all, they are a major time and energy suck - but they’re worth it because I love them :)

taglist: @marvelobsessedrat, @dim-ships-johnlock, @starkerstories @t1of3 @consciencecoward @peachbabytarte

[soranihimawari]

what he sees...

word count: 1.8k

tagging: @m0nstergeneration20xx​

warnings/genre: gamer friends to lovers [is that even a thing?]// rated F for fluff

<< |master list|>>

hallway meeting [day 0] :

part of kenma’s daily routine was to roam the halls of his high school during lunch break in search for a stronger wifi signal. recently that proved to be a challenge considering the fact the wifi was acting all wonky during the aftermath of the thunderstorm that occurred two weeks ago. the dual-toned setter was about to abandon all hope and just suffer the penalty for using one of his many devices as a hotspot during school hours.

that plan was almost coming into fruition when he heard a rather pleasant monotone voice pleading with the audio visual club members to take on a new second year recruit. with a resounding and stern, “no,” kenma heard the door close when he rounded the corner. he paused long enough to see the girl in the class across from his lower her closed fist before releasing a short lived sigh. for the life of him, kenma could not remember the name of the student he was quietly observing, but that didn’t stop him from staring at the phone you took out from your blazer pocket.

you held your phone in one hand while using your dominant hand as a mischievous smirk carved its way across your features. you swiftly stepped away in the opposite direction of the clubroom with a few keystrokes of code being typed before you pressed enter. you pretended to not hear the screams of horror when you whistled a tune down the hallway. kenma glanced down at his phone to notice his phone switched from LTE to a new closed wifi server nicknamed “chaos fiber.” it wasn’t password protected, meaning the girl’s device picked up his phone’s presence. kenma let out a chortle before he turned on his heels to head back toward his homeroom.

that afternoon on the train ride back to their neighborhood, kenma was rather quiet,even more so than what his best friend/neighbor had been accustomed to.

“kenma, do you think there’d be aliens on mars?” kuroo baited a question to see if his friend would bite.

“mmhm,” kenma replied; his subconscious was busy trying to remember any noticeable detail from lunch. the mysterious tech angel helped him out, but he didn’t want the rooster haired third year next to him cause a raucous over it. 

“you’re acting strange, even for you,” kuroo said when they were heading off the train and taking the stairs outside to the platform leading to their side of the tokyo suburbs.

“you think so?” kenma quipped knitting his brow.

“i don’t know what happened, but i guess it’s alright for now. you probably need sleep. don’t stay up too late, man.”

“ok.”

the next day right before classes were dismissed for the day, you found yourself tinkering with your mother’s old phone trying to breathe it back to life. you decided to take a break to crack your knuckles and stretch your arms when your class vice-representative, sayo-kun, said you had a visitor. Kenma did not come up with a valid reason why he thought his feet to moved on their own at lunch leading him to an impromptu visit to your class across the hall. 

he wanted to know thank you for sharing the closed wifi name with him because he was able to finally play all this games without any interruptions whatsoever, but since he knew himself to be no expert on romance, he decided to text the team. ok, let’s be real, he texted kai and yaku. if kuroo found out, homeboy would have made a big show out of something so small like kenma’s first high school crush. kenma did receive some decent advice after making the vice captain and libero of his sports club team promise to not tell their captain right away for fear of scaring the girl. 

12:05 

ꜰʀᴍ: ʏᴀᴋᴜ-ᴢᴀ ʟɪʙᴇʀᴏ

ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴇʀ? ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴄʟᴀᴍᴍʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴠᴇꜱ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ? ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴀꜱᴋ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ɪꜰ ꜱʜᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ ᴍᴍʀᴘɢꜱ? 

12:09

ꜰʀᴍ: ᴠɪᴄᴇ ᴄᴀᴘ

ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ ʏᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ʏᴀᴋᴜ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀꜱᴋᴇᴅ ᴋᴇɴᴍᴀ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɢᴇɴᴜɪɴᴇ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ. ɪꜱɴ’ᴛ ꜱʜᴇ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʏᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴʏᴡᴀʏꜱ? 

“talk to her, ask her out for some ice cream or pie at the cafe down the street from campus? practice is cancelled today anyways since nekomata has family visiting today,” kenma mumbled the last text kai sent him right before reaching your class’ door.

“can i help you?” your ears were completely oblivious to whomever sayo-kun was talking to while you pressed the power button of the phone on your desk, eyes lighting up with glee as it slowly powered on. You chuckle amused at your own genius turning your mother’s older (and by all means obsolete) phone into an emergency back up of the back up mp3 player.

“hey y/n! kodzume-san’s here to see you,” your classmate said breaking your thought process. 

“thanks,” kenma said quietly brushing past sayo-kun stopping roughly a foot before your desk. He played with his hands a bit as you lowered your arms back on your desk folded on top of each other.

“what can i do for you kenma?” you asked, an eyebrow raised at him. You knew why he was there. you were the one with the wifi server that you closed off to the other audio visual club jerks the other day, but what you didn’t know was what piqued your interest.

“i wanted to say thank you for the other day,” kenma stated in a shy tone. he was testing the waters by taking a step or two forward in your direction. you had this sly smile growing across your face which kenma found kind of endearing. Have you always looked this effortlessly sophisticated? or was that just how nature laid out your kind features every time artificial fluorescent light made your eyes sparkle in the day time.

“ah,” you reply. you bop your head while adding a quick, “i see.”

a fleeting moment of silence passes between you two before you suggest something to him which nearly caused the aloof member of the volleyball team to be caught off guard:

“want to spend a free period with me? a have one coming up right before classes are dismissed today. i’ll be in the computer lab if you’re interested.”

kenma didn’t say anything else, but you took into account the way his pupils dilated in excitement at the invitation right before he accepted your offer. you exchanged contact info once he arrived at the lab an hour later where you helped each other in creating a small network of computers to connect to the fiberware and now password protected “chaos” server from a few weeks ago. every computer that was turned on in the lab had different operating systems running through (of course with the best games downloaded by the seniors beforehand). 

“welcome to the chaos network. wanna play a game?” 

kenma did not have to be asked a second time as he sat down in front of one of the computers and thus began a partnership between you and the pudding haired setter. you brought over an extra wireless keyboard for the game kenma chose to play, laughing with him as he began to design his  lvl 1 character. you did the same when the game prompted kenma to choose to add another member to his party... 

later that evening, when he offered to walk with you to the train station with kuroo saying he had cleaning duty, kenma and you found yourselves headed in the same direction for the platform close by.

“seems like this is where we part,” you say, readjusting your school bag on your shoulder. “thanks for accompanying me earlier. i haven’t been able to play that game yet. i had fun.”

“yeah,me too.” kenma agreed taking out his gaming console again. what you did next, you had no idea why you did it, but you just went with it: you invaded kenma’s personal bubble rather quickly pressing your lips onto the side of his cheek without any forewarning. you retreated back to where you stood in front of him before

“sorry, i should of asked if that was ok,” you apologize in a meek voice admist a now crowded station. kenma shook his head to indicate that it was alright. afterall, his crush just kissed him and his brain had an emergency halt of normal kenma-esc thoughts. “see you tomorrow at school.”

“see you later,” was all he managed to say seeing as you turned to walk to your platform number to wait for your train.

--[ three weeks later]--

A couple of weeks later, you were formally introduced to the rest of the Nekoma Volleyball Club when you mentioned that your gaming partner left behind his switch in the computer room during mid-class break. Needless to say you were bombarded with questions ranging from, “where did you meet kenma,” “what class were you in,” and finally, “are you going to be our manager? You’re practically kenma’s ‘player 2’ already, right?”

Nekomata chuckled at his team, recalling the days of his youth, when something eerily similar happened to his captain at the time.

“Umm,” you cleared your throat before you drew a deep breath in. You closed your eyes on the exhale and tilted your head to the side, curling a hand under your chin in thought. 

“C’mon, you don’t have to answer any of--” Kenma’s voice was pretty even throughout meaning he was getting more annoyed at how everyone else got to ask you those pressing questions, but he had been interrupted. Over the past three weeks, you hung out with kenma more and more, seeing what was his level of comfort around you versus other people. Every time you hung out with him, kenma finally felt himself breathe a little better than before. His crush still clung on to him, so it wasn’t properly addressed until that afternoon when seeing you dropped by unannounced to return his console after you helped free the os for any bugs and malware. 

“I met Kenma in the other side of the hallway where audio/visual club after they shut me down from joining their ‘prestigious’ club, so I launched a virus that killed their LAN party mid-campaign; class 2-5 [college prep]; if you need one, i don’t see why not? I’ve got time to spare. And actually,” your eyes never wavered off Kenma’s beet red ears from the moment you interjected. “I don’t know. You should ask him that when I leave Lev.”

[ The team’s focus switched back to where their setter was standing utterly dumbfounded by your honesty. You’d think you never saw a clowder of kittens look this excited for their ‘brain’ to find someone as wickedly smart (if not smarter) than their captain. ]

Scowling at the tallest first year on the team, Yaku nearly roundhouse kicked his kouhai for the third time that practice. Kai, judging by the way Kuroo and Yamagoto’s jaws went slack after you agreed to be the official team manager right before the prefecture qualifiers were announced, just laughed with a knowing smile. The first years on the team were so enamoured by your bold, yet casual attitude, they could see why their gaming senpai would find someone special like you. Especially since they noticed how Kenma’s usually displeased expressions seemed to have subsided to his version of “i’m not upset, just disappointed,” neutral face during practices lately.

“Do you want to be?” Kenma’s voice was the loudest anyone ever heard him speak, well except for you. This voice you had grown accustomed to when you helped him during a rare monster raid in one of the various mmorpgs you linked your devices to. By now you two were at the half-way point when you were walking toward each other, it was like your bodies just took comfort automatically as though your subconscious knew the other was close. Kenma was facing you and despite his height, you were a little shorter than he was while wearing your ballet flats. 

You extended your hand to hold one of his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Your thumb rubbed miniscule spirals to calm the tensions in his fingers down. Much to their surprise, their setter rested his forehead against your shoulder muttering a “please?” so you did what you do best, you pat the top of his head gently. you avert your gaze for a split second; you hum while you prepare a straightforward answer.

“I thought we already were,” you say with the utmost sincerity in your voice. “Let me know when you get home. See ya Kodzu-san.” Your lips curled into a hauntingly gorgeous smile as you walked away shaking your head. You chewed your bottom lip to stop from screaming in excitement. You introduced yourself with a slight bow toward the coach, asking him to cut the team a little slack with the remainder of time left for practice; you told him you’d also fill out the manager interest form asap.

“Did we just get my second player to be our manager?” Kenma was given enough time to process what he said aloud a few more times. Before he realized what he truly said,he took a knee covering his mouth in a failed attempt at hiding the widest grin he’d ever show his teammates.

Kuroo chuckled, nodding with his answer. “Yep we sure did buddy. Is she the reason why you were acting so strange that day?”

Kenma glared at Kuroo who held up his hands in the air like he was caught stealing cookies before dinner like when they were kids.  

fast forward four days later, you found yourself in the comfort of kenma’s room. more so, in the comfort of his hoodie you saw lying around at the edge of his bed. you were stealth enough to quietly slip it over your head while kenma went downstairs to grab a plate of cut fruit from the kitchen. you were invited at the request of his grandparent who just happened to be visiting that day after he mentioned your name in passing right before he left for school that day. you were lost in your within your own stream of consciousness, so you were unaware that kenma was standing behind you. the sound of the plate landing on the corner of his desk in his room caused to you to turn around quickly. 

“you look cute,” was all he said slightly lowering his head to kiss your forehead. you hugged him, sweater paws and all, causing him to chuckle when he made his way to his bed. kenma patted the space next to him. 

“oh?” you hum in earnest. your eyes scrunching up when you felt your blush under your eyes glow a little more iridescent than before you sat down next to him on the bed. “glad you think so highly of me.” 

kenma rested his head on your shoulder similar to the way he did on the day you dropped off his switch earlier that week. you raised you right arm in order to have your hand run through his hair and you could of sworn you heard him purr right as he drifted off into a nap. you felt your eyelids grow heavy not too long after, not realizing you were about to lay yourself down on the bed to get more comfortable with kenma’s arms loosely wrapped around your waist (and your hand lost in his blonde hair).

Later that evening/morning:

[alarriefantasy]

                                 Halloween Fic Rec 2019

Demon

Trade Mistakes by ifancylou, Taayjaay

Words: 3k

Harry summons a crossroads demon without realizing that he'd be giving up his soul in exchange for the deal. He offers the demon something a little different instead.

Demons by CarlyLovesLarry

Words: 4k

or where Harry is a demon and Louis is a hunter, and Harry fuck Louis into oblivion  

Sealed With A Kiss by ty_madison

Words: 6k

Harry has been having dreams about a boy, every night since he turned sixteen and everytime he has opened his eyes in the past the boy has disappeared. But now he is awake, the boy is here and he has a deal to make with the innocent Harry.

Paper Planes by cathedralhearts

Words: 7k

Louis sold his soul to the Devil when he was sixteen, tear-stained and miserable, grief wracking his body as the doctors told him his mother had days to live. Lucifer prefers to go by the name Harry, wears Louis’ soul around his neck as a pendant, and spends the next five years following him around.

Shadow Holding Me Hostage by scribblewrite

Words: 26k

Harry's a demon, basically the king of hell and the source of all evil, and he needs an heir. Louis's a normal human, unsuspecting of what's in store for him.

The Devil's Angel by lilacsweaters_ivorylilies

Words: 86k

Ezekiel 28:13 - For Lucifer has been in Eden the garden of God; every precious stone was his covering, the sardius, topaz, and the diamond, the beryl, the onyx, and the jasper, the sapphire, the emerald, and the carbuncle, and gold: the workmanship of his tabrets and of his pipes was prepared in him in the day that he was created. 

Fantasy/Supernatural

got me losing every breath (i'm latching onto you) by kissingiscool

Words: 14k

(or an au where louis is a fairy with a fear of thunderstorms and a talent of knitting and harry is a vet with three cats and a lot of love.)

A Love So True You Don't Have To Be Afraid by homosociallyyours

Words: 14k

In a world long ago but not so far away, where true love is valued above all else, Louis and Harry have already found one another. Their lives are shaken by the arrival of Simon, whose heart is more than a bit shit, and who longs to sow unhappiness.

When Louis is changed into a dragon and Harry is the knight meant to vanquish him, it would appear that Simon has succeeded. But love wins, every time.

Waiting For Someone Who Needs Me by graceling_in_a_suit

Words: 17k

AU: Harry is a genie, and Louis doesn't think he needs anything.

The Prince Of Light by jacaranda_bloom

Words: 35k

Louis was found abandoned at a hospital at six months old and adopted by an older couple who raised him. Now twenty, he studies by night and by day works as a live-in au pair for a family with three little girls. One of the girls, Holly, swears there is a Garden Fairy coming and eating treats she leaves out in the cubby house each night.

When the family goes away for a two week holiday, Louis is secretly tasked with feeding the Fairy. While laying out the food one night he falls from the cubby house and is found by Harry. Harry is different and Louis is fascinated. But as Louis learns how different Harry really is, he discovers his own true home and a very surprising past he never knew.

Cue badgers, bananas and cookies, soulmates, a whole other world, and a future he’d never imagined.

like cabbages and kings by you_explode

Words: 60k

When Louis was a kid, he had a series of very vivid dreams about a place called Wonderland. There were rabbits wearing waistcoats and talking cats and ridiculous tea parties, and amidst all the absurdity, there was a boy. A boy with dimples, big green eyes and the sweetest soul Louis has ever known. Louis has always kept a place in his heart for that boy and for his funny dreamworld, and when he’s twenty-five and his life falls apart, it turns out Wonderland might not be so imaginary after all.

there's no fair in farewell by we_are_the_same

Words: 218k

When Harry and Louis, two Cupids who have been bringing people together for decades, are tasked with making Soulmates Liam and Zayn fall in love, it proves to be much harder than expected. But maybe, just maybe, that isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Ghost

The Haunting of Louis Tomlinson by HelloAmHere

Words: 31k

OR: Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

Close to Nowhere by angelichl

Words: 34k

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

you look so good in blue by patdkitten

Words: 20k

Or: Harry Styles hears about a perfect flat from his roommate Zayn's boyfriends and decides to sign the lease. The only problem is: the flat has a reputation for being haunted. It certainly doesn't help that Harry's cat is seeing things as soon as they move in...

The Case Of The (Definitely Not Haunted) Styles Mansion by BriaMaria

Words: 40k

Or the Nancy Drew AU where Marcel is a man of logic, Louis is a private detective who believes in ghosts, and the Styles Mansion is definitely, absolutely, positively *not* haunted.

Tied to Fate by littlelouishiccups

Words: 52k

After his estranged father’s death, Harry inherits a castle in England that has belonged to his family for generations and he knows nothing about. When he breaks up with his boyfriend, Harry decides England is the perfect place for a small vacation. He isn’t prepared to meet Louis Tomlinson, a ghost who once lived in the castle and has haunted it for over five hundred years. He’s even more unprepared to fall in love with him.

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore

Words: 102k

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process

Halloween Themed

Trick-or-Treat (Cheer Up) by writingstylinson 

Words: 2k

Louis Tomlinson is the single father of a little girl named Finnley, and they’ve been living in Holmes Chapel for a year. This Halloween is the first one they will be celebrating without Louis’ younger siblings or his own mother. It’s because of this that his daughter, who is usually outgoing and fearless, starts to have some worries about going trick-or-treating alone with her father.

Then Louis comes up with the perfect solution.

This is Halloween, everybody make a scene by allwaswell16

Words: 2k

When Louis takes his son trick-or-treating in a stormtrooper costume, little does he know by the end of the night he will end up gaining a Luke Skywalker, a Chewbacca, and a Rey. He doesn't mind the additions, and if Rey's very hot dad wants to come along as well, he doesn't mind that too much either.

this kitten's got your tongue tied in knots by ballsdeepinjesus

Words: 3k

[it's halloween, harry is a kitten in a tree and louis is a (fake) firefighter.]

A gold and green Halloween by Tita

Words: 8k

Harry and Louis are strangers who, dressed as Drarry, compete on a Halloween couple's costume contest. It's exactly as much of a mess as it sounds.

Black Cats Steal Hearts, Not Souls by SLD24

Words: 9k

Harry finds a kitten in a pumpkin patch the day before Halloween but it turns out not to be a kitten at all.

Horror

All The Songs That You Sing In The Dark by pukeandcry

Words: 10k

What happened was that first people got sick.

What happened after that was that they died.

But the worst thing was what happened after that. After they died, they came back.

The Skeleton Key by photo41

Words: 18k

Harry Styles, a good-natured nurse living in Manchester, quits his job at a hospice to work for Violet Winston, an elderly woman whose husband, Ben, is in poor health following a stroke.

When Harry begins to explore the couple's rundown mansion, he discovers strange artifacts and learns the house has a mysterious past. As he continues to investigate, he realizes that Violet is keeping a sinister secret about the cause of Ben's illness- and tries to convince the Winston's estate lawyer, Louis Tomlinson, that he really isn't going insane.

Loosely based off the movie of the same name.

Insane by prideinlou

Words: 20k

Or in which Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles are two dim-witted, drunk teenage boys that take a Halloween night dare too far, and end up in a life or death situation in the clutches of a haunted mental asylum.

Will they make it out alive... or will they go insane?

Mermaid

seaside improvisation by tinyweirdloves

Words: 6k

[harry is a mermaid who has lost his tail and he lives in louis's bathtub for a month.]

at least as deep as the pacific ocean (i wanna be yours) by writtensoul 

Words: 9k

louis is the very entitled prince of the seven seas!! harry is a goofy sailor boy!!! a lot of hijinks ensue involving slippery mermaid tails and happy fun little sea creatures!!

Define Dancing by asphodelknox 

Words: 20k

Death has a way of making certain things crystal clear. After Jay’s death, Louis returns to the summer cottage he always considered home. Unbeknownst to him, he’s also returning to the merman who has been his best friend through everything and finds that maybe there’s a chance for more.

Don't Let the Tide Come and Take Me by kiwikero

Words: 28k

Or, the one where Louis decides to set a merman free and ends up finding his own freedom along the way.

Still Deep In Us by graceling_in_a_suit

Words: 41k

AU. The village Harry has called home his entire life sits on six shaky legs, held aloft from the ocean which claimed the entire world twenty years ago. Harry's just a grieving tinkerer trying to do his best, and Louis is a mermaid that ruins The Village's delicate balance of power (and perhaps, just maybe, wins the heart of a boy).

Pirates

Captain Harry Styles... And The Faerie by spaceboyharry

Words: 8k

“You have today been defeated. Remember this forever as the day you were bested by Captain Harry Styles.” Louis zoomed past, shouting “AND THE FAERIE!” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “And the bloody faerie.”

must be something in the water by hattalove

Words: 3k

They all remember, somewhere deep down, why they gave up everything they had for the Mermaid.

The last vestiges of kindness and bravery and everything that is good in the world are on board that ship. Louis’s heart is on it, moored by some nameless jetty.

In Your Black Heart (Is Where You'll Find Me) by graceling_in_a_suit

Words: 35k

Louis Tomlinson has been lying for five years. His crew sees him as a pirate, a Captain, and an alpha; only two of those are the truth. He was content to let the illusion go on forever, but an omega named Harry Styles just had to join his crew and get his warm-vanilla stink all over Louis' best laid plans.Or: the story of The Captain and The Carpenter.

Si Pudiera Volar by messofgorgeouschaos

Words: 68k

When Harry’s fiancé leaves him for his cousin, he looks the other way for the sake of his happiness. He’ll do anything to forget about him, including joining a monastery. It isn’t until his cousin’s former lover, a pirate, appears that he realizes everything is not as it appears, and an honest pirate might be the only person worthy of his heart.

Or, a fic loosely based on Corazon Salvaje.

Vampire

Call Me the End of Your World by captainsftlouis

Words: 3k

or, the vampire AU where Louis is addicted to vampire venom, and Harry is addicted to Louis.

Waiting On You: A Christmas Drabble by emma1234

Words: 5k

On their first Christmas Eve as a couple, Louis and Harry decide it would be a great idea to exchange one special gift with one another to mark a new tradition. Of course, things never go as smoothly as they planned.

I Wanna Do Bad Things With You by lesbianphrodite

Words: 7k

Harry goes to his favorite pub with the intention to drink and feel bad for himself after a terrible break-up. Instead, he ends up hitting it off with a handsome vampire.

Forever And Always by jacaranda_bloom 

Words: 25k

OR the one where Harry’s neighbour is a crotchety old witch who hates vampires, Niall is the unsuspecting human who ends up inhabiting Harry’s body, and Louis is the caseworker who is assigned to swap them back. How it ends up a love story is anyone’s guess.

we should open up (before it's all too much) by disgruntledkittenface

Words: 43k

Struggling with grieving and depression since his dad died, Harry has never felt so alone. It’s too much to cope with on his own, but he feels like a burden when he tries to open up with people.

Then he meets Louis.

For You I'd Bleed Myself Dry by amomentoflove

Words: 49k

Harry is cold. His bones ache. Every movement draws a whimper from his cracked lips. The stone underneath him is practically like ice. He’s numb, but can clearly feel the sharp pains on his neck every timeHe visits him. Below the icy cold, the achy bones, and the pain on his neck, Harry Styles is pissed. There’s a fire burning in his mind and the anger for the man who keeps him imprisoned is the fuel. He despises him, the man who feeds from him and is a daily reminder that Harry’s suffering won’t end. The man who keeps Harry so weak that he can barely move most days. Harry’s waiting for the day when his owner will go too far and finally kill him. Death must be better than this cold hell he is in.

It won’t happen, though. He has a way of keeping Harry’s heart beating. So for now, all Harry can do is wait for death to come.

He’s been waiting for years.

Witches

what's inside your imagination (is as real as anything else) by suspendrs

Words: 3k

Or, Harry's a witch who likes to pretend he's a human pretending he's a witch, and Louis's the human in a not-so-clever costume that keeps catching his eye.

A Kind Of Magic by mellagreens

Words: 12k

Louis feels the urge to tell Harry he's in love with him.

Spellbound by lovelarry10

Words: 22k

Louis’ a shifter. Harry’s a witch. The only problem is, they’re hiding those things from each other.Will they be able to keep their secrets hidden at the most spooky time of year?

Call It True by abrighteryellow

Words: 48k

With dreams of being a successful novelist, Harry’s been working so hard that he almost doesn’t notice the smoothie shop that just opened down the street. But he can’t miss the mysterious, irresistible boy who works there, nor the strange but entirely positive effect his drinks seem to have. Harry needs to know what’s going on and he wants to get close to Louis, though not necessarily in that order.

A Spell and A Spark by dinosaursmate

Words: 73k

Louis is a teenage witch, living and attending university among mortals. He has to keep his secret whilst studying on both his degree and his witch's licence. His friends don't suspect a thing, even as spell after spell goes awry.

Our Place By The Moon by PearlyDewdrops

Words: 108k/WIP

Or: a late 90's urban fantasy AU in which Louis wants to befriend the strange boy next door, Harry is just trying to keep his family together, and falling in love is most inconvenient for a witch that may have accidentally reignited a centuries old curseꟷone that kinda messes with that.

[nikyri-art]

After so long the first “chapter” is finally here! :’D This will hopefuly be a short illustrated novel series. The story takes place before the events of Borderlands 3. I would never be able to make this without the help of my sweet friend @border-spam who provided my with so much support, great ideas, inspiration and with her help to rewrite this. Actually it’s kind of colaboration of me, my man and her. Since my man helped with rewriting too. Huge Thanks to them because without them editing it, I would never post it. <3  . . . Usually, this would have been resolved in just a few minutes. Having a team of his own technicians to take care of streaming issues was surely one of his greatest ideas. He still has to check up on them directly every so often, mostly for his own assurance that everything is running smoothly, but today, what should have been a quick check in was taking longer because some idiot meat sack follower had damaged some streaming equipment. Because of that dumbass, Troy has been left trying to get this tech repaired and the stream online before Tyreen loses her patience with the delay. Luckily, one of his most trusted editors was around to help him with cable replacement.

Troy sits in front of the monitor array, nervous as time ticks on, bouncing his leg while impatiently watching the little symbol on the monitor in front of him, waiting for it to signal the connection is back ON. His ECHO’s screen next to him updates with new pings so quickly it’s constantly lit, that’s how often his Godly sister is messaging him, and each new blip and ping from the echo makes him even more frustrated.. but he tries his absolute best to keep it inside, and not to aim his inner anger at the girl that has offered him help.

She’s the one currently sat under the desk beneath him, expertly fixing the cables running under it. A hugely welcome help, considering he’d never be able to fit under it to try himself.

Tinkers are best for these kind of repairs, smaller hands able to quickly handle finicky tech, able to get into places he can’t because of his height. His editor isn’t exactly a Tink, but you could easily mistake her as one due to her small size.

Just as he feels himself ready to snap, Tyreen’s constant pings and the delay on the stream causing his frustration to reach boiling point, a victorious laugh erupts from her under the desk. “AH-HA! YESSS!”

The symbol on the monitor finally turns green, and his scowl shifts into a genuine smile. “Helllll yeah, we are live baby!” His left arm quickly works the keyboard, testing the stream tech and getting it set up, until a gentle tap on his knee breaks his concentration.

“Umm, it’s not like I don’t enjoy the fabulous view from between your legs… but could you please let me out?” Her soft voice pleads from under the table.

He smirks, and pushes his chair back just enough to make her think she is free, but instead hunches down, looking under at her with his trademark shit-eating grin.

“I don’t know Ari, can I? Honestly, I really like you being down the-” he is interrupted as his face is gently pushed away by a really small hand. As soon as he shifts backwards, she crawls out and dusts off her jeans while giving her God a playful smile.

Any other cultist would pay with their life for daring to touch the God King like this, but she’s somehow special to him. Maybe it could even be called a friendship of some kind. Or at least, that’s how he sees their whole relationship. They’ve worked together almost every day for three years, and as the years passed he’s found himself talking to her, enjoying her company, choosing to be around her..  but Troy is too busy running the cult to have time for real friendships, and the only people he spends any time with besides his sister are the people in his editing team.

It’s a rare thing for him to find someone like her, someone who isn’t just a bloodthirsty idiot screeching psychotically. Someone who actually has enough brain cells to have a real conversation. That what drew him to his little friend over time. She does, of course, respect him as a God, but she does treat him.. differently. Something that feels almost like those fleeting nice moments he shares with Tyreen sometimes, facades forgotten every once in a while. His God King persona really dislikes that this woman dares to treat him like anything less than a deity, but the lonely man inside of him secretly wishes she’d do it more. It’s a kind of closeness he craves desperately.

He returns the grin and stands up, ready to leave. “Nice! Now we can finally start the stream!”. His Echo lights up one more showing Tyreen’s name again, and he curses under his breath and picks it up, bracing himself to answer the onslaught of messages. While he begins to text his sister, he notices his friend silently standing to his side, staring. Staring at his chest, to be exact. Staring so intensively she’s paused in her tracks and not left yet.

Many people stare at Troy, and for many reasons. Cultists stare in adoration and respect, the “civilised” assholes he spends unwanted time around stare in disgust, but she’s staring in a different way, and that’s why it’s sparked so much curiosity in him.

She doesn’t notice he’s completely aware of her awe as he breaks the silence. “Heh, I know it’s really hard not to get a good eyeful sweetie, but don’t forget to blink every once in a while.” he purrs.

Again, just as before, his attempt to fluster her doesn’t work. Maybe that is why he enjoys being near her so much, she isn’t as easily controlled as everyone else, and he’s noticed over time that she actually does have a couple of similar tricks as his up her sleeves as well.

She looks up at him and he’s almost insulted by her perfectly controlled expression, feigning complete boredom, like his last line hadn’t even landed. “I wasn’t staring, I was wondering.”

“Where.. did you even get those tattoos?”

Now she really has his attention. “The guys who tattoo the psychos are really terrible at it, but yours look actually, well, professional.” His ECHO keeps beeping and flickering, frantically alerting him that he should have left and been on stream, but this little rascal just hit a real sweet spot, and there is no way he’s going to leave right now.

The urge to smile was too strong, and he lets out a soft laugh as she continues to look up at him, so confident and relaxed in his presence despite being barely taller than his navel. Even without realising it, she just appreciated his work. He’s the artist behind the iconic Calypso tattoo on his chest. It was a long process he’d taken his time with after coming to loath the shitty arm tattoos he got from some jackhole years ago. He’d stopped trusting others to tattoo him and taken up the craft himself. The skull on his shoulder was the only older one that looked at remotely decent even before the siren tattoos burned right through it, and he was grateful the rest had been burned through badly over time.

He puts his hand around his hip and pushes his coat aside, leaning back to stretch the taught lines of muscle across his inked abdomen and chest to give her a better look.

“Well that’s because they were done by a professional, not some scumfuck idiot. Why so curious about it anyway, sweets?” He croons, enjoying the way she shifts on her feet slightly.  “You fancy on gracing that little body with some art yourself? Maybe something to honor and please your God?”

Using this moment to her advantage, she dares to take a step nearer to him to get a better look at the tattoos. From a closer look, it’s clear that it’s been a while since he’d gotten them, the ink slightly faded against his warm coffee toned skin. The most interesting design is of course the skull that’s hidden behind the hanging chains around his neck, and she wants a better look at it.

Pushing her boundaries yet again, she slowly reaches towards them and carefully shifts them out of the way, gently brushing her fingers against his skin in the process. It would be easy to miss how his breath hitches a little when she touched him, or how goosebumps blossom across his chest, but she was way to close to not notice. He glares intensely at the top of her head, glare burning right through her, and even though she doesn’t look at him, she feels it.

When she finally lifts her head to look into his sapphire eyes, she swears she notices a hint of blush on his cheeks above the wolfish grin. Against her will, the corners of her mouth turn up into a smile. God King Calypso is a very interesting mess of a man once you start to see past the act he plays for most people. Though he is extremely confident and intimidating on the outside, she’s started to suspect that inside hides a shy little boy. Even still, regardless of those slightly red cheeks, he never loses that aura of danger, and she’s nervously aware that she is playing with fire right now..

Why is he so proud of this tattoo? She’s only seen him act like this around something he’s responsible for. Maybe it’s the skull and the rest of the design… He is the creator of almost all of the propaganda art the COV uses, so it wouldn’t really be surprising if he had designed his own tattoos, would it? She crosses her arms in front of her chest and perks an eyebrow as she considers how to respond.

“Yeah… I would love to get some nice tattoos as well, but I don’t trust any of those psychotic bastards to get remotely close to me, let alone touch me…”

“Maaaybe the artist that tattooed you could give me a hand and help me out with mine?“

It’s not a secret that the God King despises bandits. They are below him, and many of the bastards had been killed just for getting too close to his liking. The only reason her and the Tinkers aren’t ever reduced to steaming piles of viscera for daring to interact with him is because they are useful, smart. Of course he wouldn’t let any of those bandit idiots do this tattoo… which means the person tattooing him has to be someone at least modestly sane, someone she could trust. Thats exactly what she’s looking for, since avoiding bandits in general is the best decision regardless.

She notices how much her last question has pleased him… His smug smile grows unnaturally wide, the amount of teeth starting to show is giving her a bad feeling in her guts, and she swallows nervously before be finally replies.

“You want the artist to help out with yours? Oh surrrre I can.” he rumbles triumphantly, and she feels her stomach drop as she realises what’s just happened.

“Finding the right canvas for my art is never easy, but I’m very interested in working on yours.” Her eyes widen further as he leans down to her so that predatory grin fills her vision, just so he can enjoy her surprise from up close.

Now she finally understands why he was so pleased. So eager to discuss this. So happy to play along. Not only did he design his tattoos, he tattooed them as well.

This wasn’t what she wanted at all. It was fine to chat with him about some tech or shared interested when he was in a good mood, but the God King was still a power she did not want to play with. She could get burned, badly, even when she knows he doesn’t hurt anyone from his team as long as they are obedient and respectful.

She desperately tries to get out of this fast. “Ah.. um.. well.. I didn’t really decide on any design yet, I really need to get that right first!” Convincing as that sounds, he navigates around it instantly, too clever to let her slip out of his grasp so easily.

“Oh no problem, I can design something great for you, that wouldn’t be a problem at all.” She swears his eyes are burning through her as her cheeks redden. “Oh, um, I was actually thinking about getting a piercing first, for a start?” his smile grows wider. “After all these years spent here, I don’t even have my ears pierced. The holes grew back together, maybe that would be a good start..”

This is exactly why she doesn’t like being alone with him. He’s so good with words, twisting situations to his own benefit. A sly snake, he does anything he can to get what he wants, and he always gets what he wants…

The ECHO in his hand beeps again, giving her a moment of hope, but he ignores it completely, all attention on the shaking woman he’s got trapped in his coils.

“Well lucky you! I’m really experienced with both tattoos AND piercings!” Now it really is too late, he has her trapped, cornered by her own words. He’d picked up on her twisting and changing her opinions just to try and get out of this, and made sure he was a step ahead of her each time.

“Come to my workshop tomorrow morning the same time you normally start work, we can… hmm…  map out some ideas together.”

“See you later Ari.”

A cocky wink later and he finally leaves the room, leaving the poor girl standing there hopeless….

[liztokitoki]

Hey! I want to talk a moment about something. This is a character, so if you don't like this opinion, just ignore it!

Ok, I want to throw this note right away. I want to talk about Tinker. It's not a good thing about her, so you can ignore this.

My big point of view is this. I don't think Tinker has been planned as Eve.

And before you tell me that by her name she fits the mother, please stop. That is a poor excuse, and nothing elaborate.

So leaving the subject of the name aside, I go to the following.

A long time ago a mangaka said: Before creating a good character, create his story, his character, his weaknesses, his virtues. The approach you will have with the story and the other characters. When you have all that elaborated. Only there can you assign a gender. If this character will be male or female. "

Tanaka has given us sketches of the characters, which is admirable. We have the opportunity to see what other designs our favorite characters had. But with giving us these sketches, do you really believe that all the sketches were planned from the beginning of the story?

Tanaka changed designs over the course of the story. We are not blind. We have all seen the change of Illio, an example. Then we can say that Tanaka, as she advances or builds her story, is changing things.

And that's where I want to focus. Tinker was not planned. At least, not from the beginning. In fact, not even since the beginning of the story in C3. (As some people are saying)

Let's think for a moment. Since when did they tell us about her? Chapter 13. It was his first appearance. From the beginning the character was included as a secondary one. And it went on until the contract.

So tell me, where was she planned? From chapter 13? Or after her contract?

People say their name joins Wrath. Because supposedly it is virtue. But do you really think so?

The name does not make sense to me because of the following. Tanaka was able to create his name a day before, and you wouldn't realize it. And that's because they never gave us a name, it was always Tinker (or Yosetsu). Then the mangaka made a bad play. If the reason for never giving us a name was because she would be an eve, and Tanaka wanted to make a good impression. He did it wrong. Very very bad.

And do you know why? Because Tinker's story has no more than two chapters. If Tanaka planned to surprise us with this character, don't they think the approach they gave her is quite poor? You as Tinker fans, don't you feel disappointed because your supposed female character only had at most, five important chapters? (Remember character that appeared in chapter 13)

Your female character, planned from the beginning of the story, never went through training. He never crossed two lines of words with the other Eves, He was never interested in stopping Tsubaki (Think about that) Nor did he want to make an effort to stop Shuuhei. All that was planned from the beginning? So you tell me?

Tanaka spent five years planning that. It is wonderful! So long have his been planning to give us this surprise? It's great! (This is sarcasm)

Let's make a point of comparison. Tinker is the newest among the Eves.

Tinker has no idea how to fight. Otherwise he wouldn't have asked Wrath for a contract to stop a vampire.

But ironically she can drive a Lead.

He has a contract made just five minutes ago. Are you telling me that she trained since childhood to control a Lead? No! Not only that. She also knows how to use combined attacks with Wrath!

That's absurd. Misono, Mikuni, Licht, Mahiru, and even Nicco, have been living with their Servamp for more than a few months (some have spent years), and they all had to train. Mahiru is the protagonist, so Tanaka could show us with him, how he lives with your Servamp. With Mahiru we could see how difficult it is to manipulate the Servamp when it comes to fighting. Especially if the contract is recent.

Because it's not about making a contract and that's it, I have my biological weapon. No! Here the feelings and determination of Eve are combined.

Are you telling me that Izuna could do all that in a few minutes? That all that happened to her was planned from the beginning? Don't you think there is something strange here? You don't have to be very smart to realize that the Izuna character was manipulated. Yes. Manipulated. Because he danced with Inner Wrath and magically dominated the "Wrath." Here the power of the script needed her to be strong. That is character manipulation, or the well-known, Power up.

Now you tell me, she is strong and pretty. He managed to save his friend from revenge.

I think we were all surprised at how quickly the issue of Shuuhei and Shamrock was resolved. It was a revenge. There was so much hatred and resentment in Shuuhei's heart that it seemed a mockery what they did with him.

Izuna is an expert in stopping revenge. That showed us the chapter. Don't you think Tell me why she hasn't gone to stop Tsubaki? She knows that revenge is bad, so shouldn't she talk to Tsubaki? She works wonders! It is a goddess that stops everything! Izuna is the key to stop Tsubaki! (All this is sarcasm)

Are you telling me with your character planned from the beginning?

If from the beginning she was planned as Eve. Why did Tanaka fix Shuuhei's confrontation in just one chapter? We had more than 60 chapters with his revenge, and in the end everything ended just because Tinker fainted from the fight? Tanaka planned all that from the beginning?

I'm sorry if I'm tough on this issue, but I can't help laughing when people say "from the beginning it was planned as Eve, because her name fits with Wrath's"

You know, you can go to Wikipedia and look for the names and yes, you will get stories. But that does not justify that Tinker has been planned. A name says nothing if the story from the beginning did not give you a chance to progress as a character.

If you are going to talk to me about names that fit and have stories. Guys, there was another name before it matched Wrath's. And that was Tsurugi. Tsurugi's code name is Baldr, and in mythology, Baldr is Frigg's son. Do you know what that meant? Tanaka built the character of Tsurugi from the beginning, and throughout the course of C3 and with the end, they told us that Tsurugi what he needed most was a mother figure in his life.

(If I have to give a theory of characters that were planned from the beginning, it is certainly Tsurugi. In addition, we can even say that Tanaka is fond of these two. Tsurugi is one of his most popular characters, and for his birthday , he drew it even with Wrath. So you can't tell me they both have no connection.)

Izuna nobel means nothing. Because, as I said, Tanaka could create that name just when she drew the chapter. You imagine? Tanaka saying: I need a name that is related to Freya or Frigg, aah Idun! "And Ready, there you have your female character that was planned from the beginning. LOL

A curiosity that I found with his name, from the beginning on the Tanaka Strike web page, Tinker's name was set as "Yosetsu" There were people who thought that was his name, but then changed to Izuna.

How strange, right? Tanaka really planned it from the beginning?

I wanted to make this note because it seems absurd for people to say it was planned. The people who only watched the anime, the first thing they did was to ask themselves: “And the women?” Tanaka focused too much on the story of C3 and it seemed that it would never end.

The strongest theory was that they pressured Tanaka to create a female character. Whether her fans asked for it or the publishers. What we do know is that Tinker gained strength at a time where it was not needed.

We didn't need revenge and the whole story of Shuuhei will end in C3. And much less that it ended like this!! It makes Shuuhei look like a spoiled child. Just put yourself in his place. Someone murdered your father. That someone is a family friend! Would you forgive him? They took your father away when you were only 8 years old, they left you and your sister alone! And your mother was a widow! That leaves a scar too deep.

Tinker from the beginning, and if she really wanted to, she could help her friend.

Don't you realize that she hasn't done anything? He told the story of Shuuhei to Mahiru because she expected Mahi to do something. Then he asked Wrath for help fighting. She doesn't know how to fight? She doesn't know how to use her weapons? Don't you think it would have been more epic to see her use her own weapons and defend her friend? Instead of relying on a Servamp.

People who protect her just because she is the female Eve are wrong (ok, are they her tastes, but really?) A character is good when her story is good. When it is well designed. When it seems that mangaka really worked on the character.

But, Tinker looks like it was only created to satisfy fans. You have to accept that before being an eve, I didn't have a fan group. There were very few people who really noticed her. Her story is so basic that it leaves you wondering, what does she do there? She did not cause much impact. She is quite normal.

What makes her special is only because she is a woman. (Everyone defends her because she is the great female Eve of the group)

People forgot Ophelia? Ophelia is a great character. Her story was short but she did have a great impact, not only because she was a princess in a world at war, but because she did have a well-crafted story. She was the fundamental pillar in the madness that Lawless developed. Do you understand that She had a motive, a purpose to appear in the story.

Tinker, what was his motive? Save her friend? That sounds good, but was a contract necessary? Was it necessary to make Eve so forced into history? You can protect her, but ask yourself this; Would you love her if it wasn't an eve?

If Tanaka had made her alone, with her own hands, help her friend. Would you love her? For my part, I would say yes. Because she would be the first human (no contract. Without a servamp) who would face a vampire to protect her friend. That would have looked more natural. More fluid in the sleeve. Something more realistic. And definitely something epic ...

But instead, what did they do? They made her look like a true useless. He makes weapons and is not able to use them to protect his friend. (So, reallly?) He starts to cry in the middle of the disaster to beg a Servamp contract. And he's so selfish, he asked Wrath for help, leaving all the other characters aside. Recall that Mahiru was missing, and she knew, but did she care? No.( They were all facing Touma, and she just wanted to vent her own guilt. That seems stupid, and even more so if her can't do it without help.)

She is selfish because Wrath was locked in C3 for several days but Tinker never bothered to help her, or ask for help before. She only did it when she was more desperate and realized that she is insignificant. Because he never bothered to train to use his weapons. Because he never bothered to really help his friend. She let Shuuhei advance her revenge.

When you look at it from that point. Do you think that she really is her best friend? Someone who lets you lose yourself in madness is definitely not. And don't talk to me about the end, because that ending doesn't make any sense.

We all know that Tanaka got bored and gave him that hurried end. Shuuhei's revenge was able to postpone it for another arc. But seeing how Tanaka is carrying things, we already know it was impossible. Tanaka is not doing things right. We all realize that she is moving very fast in her sleeve. And that happens because it creates too many characters and everyone should get a story.

The only reason why Tinker is Eve is because the Fans wanted a woman, and because Wrath needed a name before losing the fight against Tsubaki. Which was disappointing.

So that's my point. A character that nobody talked about, not even mangaka, from one chapter to another becomes important. Does it make you think it was always planned? Or do you just defend it because there are no more women in the manga, and in today's world feminism is in fashion? (I don't want to get into controversy with this)

I said what I think because I feel and I think I have the right to say what I don't like about a character. In this fandom we cannot say "I hate Izuna, I hate Sakuya" because they immediately attack you with anonymous messages.

I said this because many people think alike but are afraid to speak it. I did not make this note to unleash hate, on the contrary, I said what many people think, is everything.

If my words bother you, it's because you know I'm really right. Which gives me a point for me. Yey~

[space-australia-stories]

I always see posts about how awesome humans are in pretty much every way. But lately I've been wondering what would happen if an alien met someone, say, wheelchair bound, or missing a limb. How would aliens, or an alien captain for that matter, handle seeing one of these unstoppable humans that's been crippled, maybe even since birth? I bet it'd be a bit of a trip.

I’m sure an alien race wouldn’t be unfamiliar with birth defects or deformities. Oh, I just thought of something! It’s not really what you asked for but it’s neat, I think. (sorry this answer is so late, I hope you’re still here!)

Imagine some alien being born with a disability. In their society, any sort of disability or deformity renders you pretty much useless in the eyes of the government. Those born with disabilities or who acquire them usually work the worst of the worst jobs and are payed next to nothing. Keep reading to see a more in-depth story.

Aro was always considered the outsider. As a young hatchling, he was not allowed to attend school with his more abled peers. Instead, he learned with the other Rejects. Rejects of different age groups all shared one teacher, who had to split her time between all of them. As such, their education was severely lacking when compared to the more privileged children. He was barred from entering university when the time came because he was deemed unfit due to his disability.

He found his first prosthetic in a waste bin. It was broken and uncomfortable, but it allowed him to finally apply for a job in a factory as a sanitary worker. He worked long hours on his feet, and his wages were miserable. At the end of each day, his hips would hurt from the height difference between his real and prosthetic legs, and he had bruises and blisters where his prosthetic fit incorrectly against his skin. 

Aro’s biggest dream as a hatchling had been to become an engineer for the Federation, but given his disability, he was not allowed anywhere near the Space Center. He had always been interesting in tinkering and mechanics, and used his natural skills in those areas to repair his prosthetic, but once he started working, he was unable to pursue his passion. Aro had given up on that dream long ago, but when rumors started spreading through the factory that a group of Federation warships were coming to resupply on their planet, Aro couldn’t help the fantasies that flooded his mind. He dreamed of spending his days in a ship’s interior, unaware of the heat, where he would get to know and work with the mechanisms that made those beautiful ships run.

As the day of the resupply drew closer, Aro began to hear whispers of an all-Terran crew on one of the warships. The Terrans were highly regarded throughout the Federation as being practically unstoppable. They were amazing healers, and would run head-first into danger with no regard for their health. It was scary to think that nothing would slow them down. Aro had never met one before, but it was hard to imagine that such an intense race of creatures would have any place for a Reject like him. Upon hearing that a crew of them would be with the Federation warships, Aro became increasingly nervous about their visit. The ships would visit his factory for much needed parts, and Aro regretfully decided to take the day off. The Terrans would be disgusted to see a Reject like himself, and he wanted his planet to give them the best first impression as possible. He had wanted to see the warships, but, he did not want to shame his people.

On the day of the resupply, just as Aro was leaving the factory, he passed by a large group talking in hushed tones. They silenced when he approached, but not before he caught someone finish, “-captain is a Reject.”

This thought was met with disbelief and shock rippling through the crowd. Someone in the center spoke up. “A Terran? Not possible. They would not allow their reputation to be tarnished in that way.” He looked pointedly at Aro, who had slowed his walk so as hear the conversation better. At the other’s glance, Aro turned his eyes down and walked away, his mind swimming.

A Reject Terran? And a captain, no less. Aro could not believe his ears. Like his coworker said, the Terrans would never allow a Reject to hold such a highly respected position.

Lost in his thoughts, Aro must have made a wrong turn somewhere, and when he realized where he was, it was already too late. Somehow, he had ended up in the hangar, where the Federation warships were already docked. The hangar crew were already running around cleaning the ships and running maintenance checklists, preparing for their relaunch at the end of the day. Aro’s heart was beating in his chest. He knew he shouldn’t be here, but he couldn’t help himself from stepping further into the hangar. He had never seen a Federation ship up close before, and he was in awe of the beauty of the large warships in front of him.

No one seemed to notice him approach the closest one from the back. He reached up reverently to touch to cool metal of the thrusters. He did not notice when someone came up behind him.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Aro jumped and yanked his hand away at hearing the choppy voice, obviously spoken through a translator.

Sure enough, when he turned around, there was a Terran with a translator wrapped in front of his mouth. He was sitting in a chair with large wheels. Was he tired? And why did the chair need wheels? Only then did Aro notice that the man was wearing a Federation captain’s uniform.

How does one act around a captain? Aro did not know. Should he bow, as is customary when speaking to an Elder? Hastily, he bent at the waste and lowered his eyes in submission. He cleared his throat and bunched his fists to keep his hands from shaking.

“S-sir, I apologize. I did not see you behind me.” He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, and shifted his weight to conceal his crude prosthetic. The captain would be furious to find out a Reject was allowed near his ship. He spoke again without lifting his eyes. “The ship is beautiful, Sir,” he confirmed quietly, but meaning every world.

The captain chuckled, which surprised Aro enough that he looked up at the Terran. He had a warm smile on his face, but had not gotten up from his chair to return Aro’s bow. “There’s no need to bow, son,” he said, which caused Aro to cringe in embarrassment and stand up hesitantly.

“Your people are awfully fond of that,” the captain continued, “but a simple handshake will do.”

He extended his hand, and it was obvious that he intended for Aro to do the same. Aro was unfamiliar with Terran customs, and did not know what to do after that. Luckily, the captain completed the gesture by grasping Aro’s hand in his and jostling it firmly up and down once before letting go. He still did not stand from his chair. 

“What’s your name, son? Are you interested in the ship?” asked the captain.

Aro’s nerves were going haywire. He remembered what the others in the factory had said. The captain is a Reject. Could this be him?

“M-my name is Aro, Sir,” Aro stuttered.

It took a moment for the captain to respond while he waited for the translator to convert Aro’s words into the Terran language. Finally, he smiled. “Nice to meet you, Aro. My name is Captain Brewster, but most people just call me Brew.”

Aro caught a hint of the Terran language just seconds before the translator said them. It was more breathy and less harsh than his. It lacked the hard clicks and stops that made his language difficult for others to learn. In that moment, he desperately wished to know Terran.

The captain continued. “So how long have you worked here, Aro?”

“Three years, Sir.”

“Any interest in space travel?”

The question threw him off. Aro could not think of why Captain Brewster would ask something like that.

Luckily, the captain explained. “You seem to like my ship.”

“Y-yes, Sir. I do like engineering.” Aro looked away shyly.

Captain Brewster smiled again. “Would you like to see something? Follow me.”

Without waiting for an answer the captain started moving around the back side of his warship. Aro watched him grab the wheels of his chair and push down, which moved him forward. He followed slowly, attempting to hide his limp. Captain Brewster wheeled up and into the ship and Aro followed after the captain urged him that it was alright. The captain guided him to the side of the ship near the hatch switch. The metal wall in this area was etched with hundreds of markings in languages that Aro did not recognize.

“Whenever we fly to a new planet,” the captain explained, “I like to get a message from a planet native carved right here, so that every time we go out, I am reminded of all the people we’re fighting for.”

Aro nodded along, studying the scrawlings that covered nearly half the wall.

“Would you like to write something here?” the captain asked bluntly.

Aro startled back, and his eyes went wide. “S-sir, I could not. It would not be right,” he apologized.

The captain tilted his head in confusion. “Why not?”

Here it was. Aro would have to reveal his undesireable condition to the captain. He could not ignore a question from a Federation captain.

“I-I have a condition, Sir.” Aro’s voice got quieter as he spoke. “I was born with no right leg. I am a Reject. I am unfit to even be talking with you now. I apologize for disrespecting you so.” He bowed again in an attempt to hide the tears welling in his eyes.

“A Reject? Aro, I promise you, you are anything but disrespectful. Now stand up.”

Aro did as he was told, and found that Captain Brewster had moved his chair closer to him.

“If I am correct, a Reject is your peoples’ term for someone with a disability, yes?”

Aro only nodded. He could not find his voice.

“And this makes you less of a person than others?” Aro nodded, now terrified of where this was going.

To his surprise, the captain reached up and placed his hand on Aro’s shoulder. He looked into his eyes as he spoke next. “That’s bullsh*t. If that’s what your people think of guys like me, then you’re wrong.”

Realizing what he said, he added hastily, “I apologize, Aro.” He moved away from Aro and folded his hands in your lap. “I’ve worked hard to get to where I am today. I don’t like that people like me are denied from pursuing their dreams just because of a stupid disability. And people like you.” Captain Brewster was looking at Aro directly in the eyes, expecting a response.

Aro blinked, then asked hesitantly, “S-sir? If I may ask, a-are you a Reject?”

The captain nodded. “But I don’t like that word. It’s demeaning.”

Aro worried that he angered the captain, but he looked more sad than anything else.

“Aro, would you like to be an engineer?”

Aro was unprepared for the blunt question. He thought his dream was dead, but at the captains words, he knew he was still just as passionate as ever.

“Yes, Sir,” he said, more confidently than anything he said before.

Captain Brewster smiled knowingly. “Why don’t you write something here.” He gestured to the wall. “I’ll see what I can do.” The captain winked and wheeled away.

Aro stood in shock, not knowing what to do. After a moment, he heard the hangar crew shouting outside, and knew that the warships were preparing to leave. Pulling a screwdriver from a pocket in his pants, he scratched a short message into the wall and hurried out of the hangar, just in time to see this ships take off.

He spent many restless nights mulling over his strange conversation with Captain Brewster and thinking about what it might mean. Weeks passed and soon, Aro had all but forgotten the conversation. The captain was just being polite. He probably couldn’t wait to be away from Aro as soon as possible.

Then one day, after coming home from a particularly grueling day at work, Aro noticed a thick green envelope poking out of his mailbox. When he opened it, several papers and a photo fell out. The photo was of Aro’s message on Captain Brewster’s ship, which Aro found confusing. He set it aside to read the letter, and his heart rate increased the more he read.

TO ARO —- OF THE PLANET WINOA

We are pleased to announce your summons to the FEDERATION SPACE CENTER OF TERRA in preparation of your enrollment at the Intergalactic University’s College of Engineering. We have reviewed your profile, and find you to be a perfect candidate for the Intergalactic Trade Scholarship, which provides qualifying students from all over the universe with the opportunity to study their fields of passion, all expenses paid by the Federation. Included in this summons is a more in-depth description of the Intergalactic Trade Scholarship, as well as a ticket to Terra, for the date of MAY 13, 2576..

Sincerely,

Ursula Moody

Academic Advisor

IU College of Engineering

Aro looked again at the photo, and on the back, a short note was written sloppily in Aro’s own language. 

Aro, I pulled some strings and got you into IU! I could see the passion in your eyes, and I would have beat myself up if I didn’t help you out somehow. Call me at (123) 456-7890 when you get to Terra so we can meet up!

                                                      - Captain James “Brew” Brewster

P.S. I loved your note. “Mistakes are just happy accidents. Our meeting was no mistake, but it was happy nonetheless.” Very Bob Ross of you.

Aro did not know who this Bob Ross was, but he assumed it was a Terran compliment.

He could not believe it. His dream of becoming a Federation engineer was finally coming true, and he could not wait to start.

[sarcasticgaypotato]

Just in time for the spooky season; my first thank you fic! Prompt given by @moonwatcher13 who requested necromancer AU fluff, thank you so much for the generous donation, and I hope you enjoy!

Chell had been dead for a long time.

Years turned into decades since her heart last beat, and her lungs last drew breath. By the natural order of things, she should’ve been six feet under, with bones turned to dust. And yet? Here she still was. Pulling herself up off of her bed, and stretching her eternally stiff limbs in an attempt to chase the grogginess from her mind. The sun had started to disappear behind the tops of the trees, casting the world in long shadows and encroaching darkness. The rest of the world’s day was ending, which meant Chell’s was only just beginning.

As she walked, slowly and silently, through the cold stone halls of the castle she called home, she found herself dwelling briefly on what got her here. Rather, who.

An elf as pale as moonlight, as sharp as a blade, and mad as anything. With her piercing eyes of gold and blue respectively, and her hair as white as bone. GLaDOS was as intelligent as she was dangerous, and as dangerous as she was curious.

She was always pushing. Pushing the limits of what she could achieve, of what was allowed. She found limits and shattered them, for better or for worse.  Chell was the result of one such test; her greatest experiment to date. Bringing the dead back to life.

Chell had long said that it hadn’t been worth it. That she would’ve been better off staying properly dead, and that GLaDOS would’ve been better off not living with an unholy beast.

But GLaDOS never heard a word of it. She always dismissed Chell’s laments with assurances stated like facts, so certain that she had made the only choice possible. Chell knew that that certainty came, at least in part, from love. GLaDOS was hardly shy with her affections, willing to kiss even a bloodstained, bloody maw with unabashed enthusiasm.

Yet, as Chell approached the room that GLaDOS called her study, she had to acknowledge that GLaDOS’s refusal to regret her creation came out of stubbornness too. To doubt the existence of her undead lover would be to admit failure in her experiments. And given that GLaDOS had told Chell just how many times even her initial resurrection had failed… Well, it was no doubt that GLaDOS wanted a success, and this was as close as she could get.

Of course, that experiment had taken place years and years ago, and GLaDOS had moved on to new things. She was never satisfied, never able to lull in one state for too long.

She was always hungry, and Chell could relate.

Inside the fire-lit study, Chell poked her head in to see GLaDOS moving back and forth, flitting from her desk to her caldron, scribbling down notes before hurrying back to throw something else in and watch the reaction.

She didn’t even seem to notice Chell as she came in, her head much too deep in her work, and a face full of colored steam no doubt helping to obscure her vision.

Chell didn’t mind it, at least for awhile. She was relatively content to lean against the doorway and watch her partner with an unblinking gaze, basking in the sight that was GLaDOS truly in her element.

But after awhile, Chell started to get...antsy. She resisted the urge to tap her foot as GLaDOS went about bottling whatever her new creation was, all without giving more than a brief “Oh, hello Chell.”

Slowly, Chell slunk over to where GLaDOS stood- leaning over her desk and pouring over her notes- unable to be patient any longer as she wrapped her arms around her lover’s slender waist, and let out a low, impatient sound. After waking up alone- as was a frequent occurrence when she slept throughout a whole day- it was only natural that she wanted some quality time with her beloved. 

“Come now, you haven’t been waiting that long.” As GLaDOS spoke, a hint of amusement mingling with exasperation, Chell moved to rest her chin on the elf’s shoulder, only to stop and pull back at the sudden sound of a hiss that wasn’t her own. Tucked away in the folds of GLaDOS’s robe and wrapped around her neck like a scarf was one of her pet snakes that raised its head and reared at Chell when she got too close.

It took more self control than she wanted to admit to resist the urge to bare her teeth and snarl back in response, keeping her head back and instead settling for glaring daggers at the albino reptile until GLaDOS slowly coaxed the thing down her arm, onto the desk, and then sent it slithering off into the shadows to hunt. 

With that taken care of, Chell wasted no time nuzzling close, breathing in deeply as GLaDOS’s scent drowned out that of the rather pungent potion in the air around them. 

She tried to close her eyes, to stand there peacefully and simply drink in the moment of GLaDOS’s warm body pressed against her unnaturally cold chest, to enjoy the feeling of her rather small partner in her arms, safe and sound and right where she was supposed to be.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t relax. A nagging little something prickled in the back of her mind, reminding her with every passing moment of the now unguarded expanse of flesh only inches away from her mouth. 

She blinked heavily, as if the action would push away the thought from her mind. She wasn’t starving, she would eat when she needed to. There was no point in interrupting such a nice moment, so Chell bit her tongue- not literally, she had learned the hard way that such an action was ill-advised- and waited. And waited.

GLaDOS was taking forever. And she kept fidgeting, moving in and out of Chell’s grasp to grab tools and tinker even further.

It was about half an hour into all this when Chell made up her mind. Saving the usage of her voice for an apology instead of asking permission, she gathered GLaDOS slightly tighter into her arms, and pulled her backwards, stumbling for a moment before plopping herself into GLaDOS’s desk chair with the elf in question on her lap.

“Chell!”

The warm satisfaction in her otherwise cold chest was more than worth GLaDOS’s scolding tone and the light smack on her shoulder.

“If I had been in the middle of handling something dangerous-”

“You would’ve managed it.” “Yes, I would’ve thrown it on you and documented the results.”

Chell felt her lips curl into a smile. Surely GLaDOS could wrap up her work like this just fine, and then Chell could get her meal. Of course, as she leaned forward and pressed her lips against GLaDOS’s neck in a gentle kiss, she couldn’t help but think that a little taste in the meantime wouldn’t hurt…

“Don’t you dare.”

A raspy whine escaped Chell’s lips before she could help herself.

“I need to finish recording my findings and I don’t want to be falling asleep in the process. My experiments are more important than your impatience.” “...’s only tasting…”

“Sure you were.”

Reluctantly, Chell resigned herself with a grumble, licking her lips restlessly. She knew GLaDOS had a point, a vampire’s venom was a sedative, and was hardly the thing that one wants in their veins if they weren’t ready to take a nap. 

Still, it only would’ve been a little nibble…

In truth, GLaDOS wasn’t working for all that much longer before she capped her ink pot and set down her quill. A glance out the nearby window and a look at the moon’s position still rising in the sky meant Chell had barely been awake for an hour in total. But it felt like an eternity.

Which was, perhaps, what made it all the more satisfying for GLaDOS to finally turn around and shift in Chell’s lap, wrapping her arms around her neck- and as always not shying in the slightest from the awful, blackened wound- and meeting her gaze with a languid smile.

“See? Patient vampires get what they want.”

There was no time to waste in meeting GLaDOS’s warm lips in a quick kiss, Chell savored her taste, and offered a please and thank you all in one, anxiously waiting as GLaDOS shrugged her robes to the side enough to display more of her neck in a silent invitation.

Chell tried not to rush, flexing the muscle of self control that had taken her years to build and still needed work to this day. Instincts told her to lunge, to bite immediately and to drink her fill quickly. But what remained of her rational thought urged her otherwise, to instead leave a trail of kisses down her partner’s jaw to her neck, to be gentle and slow. To bite only after going over every available space with affectionate offerings, and to bite gently.

There was a time and a place for a hearty bite, to relieve the urge of a vicious, powerful chomp. But all it took was a look at the still healing wound on the opposite side of GLaDOS’s neck to remind Chell to take this one easy.

A purr rumbled from her chest as she felt the warm rush of blood against her teeth and tongue, sinking her fangs in just enough to prompt a proper blood flow before she pulled back, bringing her tongue forward instead to lap at the beads of blood as they appeared.

GLaDOS shuddered in response to the cold sensation, and Chell grasped her hand and squeezed it gingerly, rubbing her thumb along her partner’s pale knuckles. The chill wouldn’t be so bad once Chell’s mouth began to warm a little, stealing the heat from the living to possess in her own icy form. 

As she lingered in the space, lapping and nuzzling, drawing out the experience longer and longer, it was impossible to ignore the older marks on GLaDOS’s neck. The violent, jagged scars from years ago, flesh permanently branded with Chell’s signature. It was sobering, and only pressed her further into the affectionate touch she had the control to give. 

It was a lucky thing that GLaDOS was who she was, Chell thought. Had she not been so eager to wrap her arms around a dangerous undead, long before Chell had been able to temper herself to be so gentle, Chell wasn’t sure if she would’ve ever gotten to this point. For any other living person out there, eagerness to cuddle up with a corpse would’ve been hard to come by.

But Chell counted as many blessings as a vampire could have that she had somehow landed herself with someone who was more comfortable with Chell being dead than Chell herself. Someone who didn’t freak out as venom dulled her senses, but instead simply yawned and snuggled closer, continuing to run a hand lazily through Chell’s hair. Someone who was content to sit here with her for hours, to tangle herself lovingly in Chell’s cold arms with nothing but joy in doing so.

Someone who loved her for who she was, not in spite of it.

[drones-of-innocence]

Sweater Weather

O~o~O

Summary:  On a cold winter's night, when Luigi can't sleep, Mario's answer involves sweaters and quilts. Inspired by _kairy_draws_'s adorable sweaters that she drew for the brothers!

Just a little drabble I wrote instead of doing homework

Links to other platforms: AO3; FFN.net; Wattpad

Here is _kairy_draws_’s Instagram!

O~o~O

There was a blackout.

Most of Toad Town was in the dark, or at least it would have been, if the Mario brothers hadn’t gone around to every door to hand out and light candles to the citizens. They made sure every house had plenty of light before they would move on. After leaving the final house, satisfied that the Toads would all have light and stay warm through the cold winter night, they finally turned to go back to their own house.

The heater was broken. Snow was beginning to fall. They didn’t have many candles left for themselves, but Mario used his Firebrand to light up the fireplace. They were too tired to worry about being very cold, or, more precisely, Luigi being cold. Mario didn’t get cold.

It was late. Both brothers wanted nothing more than to get some sleep. Luigi trudged off to his room with the sleepy promise of tinkering with the electricity down in town with his Thunderhand, and Mario mumbled something about building space heaters to distribute around. They just had to hope the castle would be okay without them until morning.

Then, they went to sleep. At least, they would have liked to. Not even five minutes later, the house was awake again with the sound of a vacuum cleaner.

“For the last time, there are no ghosts in the house!”

“But Mario!” Luigi wailed, trying to wrestle with the vacuum nozzle. Mario wouldn’t let go. “They’re in the curtains! And the rugs! They hide, it’s what they do!”

Mario yanked on the nozzle, but Luigi clung to it for dear life. “It’s two in the morning!” Mario protested. “Come on, it’s so late. You have to be tired. Let’s go to bed, okay?”

Shaking his head furiously, Luigi threw his whole body into pulling, and both the brothers stumbled. “No! I can’t sleep now!”

“Mamma mia,” Mario sighed, and abruptly let go of the vacuum cleaner. Luigi flew back and fell on the floor with a yelp. “There are no ghosts. You know this! We checked last weekend.”

The only light in the room was the fireplace, crackling away. The nearest light was several meters away, down town. The house was apparently very cold. Mario rubbed his eyes and glanced between the fire, Luigi shuddering on the floor, and the dark hall that led to their bedrooms.

Tilting his head, Mario looked to the floor again. “Luigi.” he said, lowering his voice. “It’s not ghosts you’re afraid of, is it?”

Luigi blinked at him. His eyes darted all around the walls and the carpet before focusing on Mario again. Then, cradling the vacuum cleaner in his arms, he shook his head.

Mario’s expression softened. Stifling a yawn, he came to sit down on the carpet with Luigi. “Your nightlight.” he said. “It’s not working. So it’s dark in your room. Is that why you’re scared?”

Back in Brooklyn, there was plenty of light, even at night. The dark had never been a problem for Luigi until after they had come to the Mushroom Kingdom so long ago. The city may never sleep, but the Mushroom Kingdom certainly did.

After weeks of being unable to sleep, to where Luigi had started walking into walls because of how tired he was, Mario was determined to find out what was wrong. He tried everything. Fluffing the pillows every night, reading a bedtime story, making Luigi hot tea before bed, Mario tried every trick in the book.

He wasn’t sure how he put it together, exactly. But after listening to Luigi talk about the nightmares he had at night, and observing how he napped during the day just fine, Mario got gut feeling that told him the dark had something to do with it. So he went and found a nice little nightlight.

And it worked like a charm; Luigi hadn’t had any problems sleeping since that day. Until now, at last.

Tracing the patterns in the carpet with a finger, Luigi avoided his eyes and finally nodded.

The firewood sputtered, and Luigi jumped. Mario gave a tired smile. “I told you that you could use the candles. I can light them for you,” he started to make a move to get up, but Luigi grabbed his sleeve and shook his head. “What?” Mario stopped.

“Someone else might need the candles.” Luigi mumbled. He shivered so hard that his jaw clenched. “I don’t want to waste them.”

Mario just shook his head. He could argue, and tell Luigi that using the candles for himself wasn’t a waste at all. That was a surefire way to keep them bickering out in the living room for another hour before they would sleep. But it was two in the morning. He didn’t want to argue, he wanted to go to bed. He could work on Luigi’s perception of wasting and using another day.

“Come here,” he peeled the vacuum cleaner from Luigi’s grasp and wrapped his shivering little brother in a hug. “Why didn’t you tell me you were so cold?”

Luigi didn’t answer except to hug back, which was enough. “Okay. How about this. I will get some blankets. You sit on the couch in front of the fire. We sleep out here tonight.” he let go after a moment, and stood up to head back to his room.

He heard Luigi get up as soon as he left. “We?” he called out tentatively.

Mario peeked from around the corner and pretended to roll his eyes. “Yes. We.” he answered.

The Firebrand was immensely useful for the dark. Mario summoned a handful of fire to light his way with one hand, while he rummaged around his room for blankets with the other. They didn’t actually have much in the way of blankets; the Mushroom Kingdom had nice weather year round, so they didn’t really need them. Even when it did get cold or hot, they had set up heating and cooling in all the houses in Toad Town.

He ended up finding a couple of sweaters. One was his, but he didn’t remember where he got it. Orange and red striped pattern, crocheted with a goomba in the middle. He smiled. The other was Luigi’s. It was so big that it seemed like more of a blanket than a sweater, with a blue plaid design and little pink hearts scattered about.

Just as he slid his sweater over his head, he heard Luigi sit down on the couch and let out a yawn from the living room. Mario shook his head and closed his bedroom door on the way out once he grabbed the quilts. He knew Luigi hated leaving doors open.

“Here,” he handed the blue plaid sweater to Luigi, and he saw the instant Luigi recognized it.

He ran a hand over the fabric. “Oh. I remember this,” he murmured, just as Mario set his green quilt beside him on the couch. He slid his arms in the sleeves, which were way too big, and made him look like he did when they were little. Mario couldn’t help but chuckle while he lay his own red quilt out on the floor in front of the couch.

After taking one pillow for himself and giving the rest to Luigi, Mario went to sit down on the end of the couch with a pillow in his lap. His body was practically a space heater. He planned on sitting there until Luigi was warm and could fall asleep before he would move to lay down on the floor. The quilts were gifts from Princess Peach, way back when they had first come to the Mushroom Kingdom and finally decided to stay. The sweaters, though, Mario couldn’t quite place where they had gotten them. They had been on so many adventures and met so many people, the sweaters could have come from anywhere.

Mario was too tired to think. He would ask Luigi about it later. “Cozy?” he looked down to Luigi, just as Luigi lay down with his head on the pillow. Luigi answered him with an affirmative noise. Even so, Mario reached down and touched Luigi’s quilt. His Firebrand heated up the heavy blanket with ease, and he hoped it would be enough to keep Luigi warm throughout the night.

He settled with his cheek resting in his palm, and closed his eyes. The fire danced about in the fireplace, casting soft orange light around the room. He listened to Luigi shift around until he was comfortable.

After a moment, Mario nearly nodded off. The sound of the fire, his brother’s breathing, the wind outside, were all soothing to him. They had plenty of work on their hands tomorrow, but for now, they could sleep.

“Mario?” he vaguely heard Luigi say.

He processed that it was his name being called. He didn’t want to open his eyes. “Hmm?”

There was one more shift next to him on the couch. Luigi curling up under his quilt. He felt the weight of Luigi’s head finally relax on his lap. “Thank you.” he said, in a small voice.

Mario tried to make some sort of noise in response, but he was too tired to focus on a coherent reply. He hoped Luigi understood. His breathing lengthened. The world faded out.

Outside, snow blanketed the town, inch by inch. The lake was freezing over. Winter had begun, and two brothers slumbered in their house, up on the little hill overlooking Toad Town. The frozen kingdom awaited them in the morning. But for now, at least, they were warm and cozy, dreaming sweet dreams about blankets and old sweaters.

O~o~O

“Hmm, maybe they’re not here?”

“Well, look. There’s a fire going. Surely they’re inside. It is late; perhaps they’re just sleeping.” Peach whispered.

While Daisy went to peek through the windows, Peach shuddered and rubbed her eyes. She wished she was sleeping in her warm bed. But after hearing about the blackout and how the brothers had gone around town to give out candles, she was just consumed with worry for them. Daisy was spending a few days at the castle anyway. So Peach asked for her to come along.

Of course, Daisy was as eager to see them as she was, especially Luigi. The same way Peach was always eager to see Mario.

She came despite the late hour because she knew how cold it would be getting. She could use her magic to keep their house warm for them until they got the heater working again. There was no telling how long the blackout would be.

“Hey, check this out.” Daisy bent down and lifted the welcome mat in front of the door. “Luigi showed me where they keep an extra key.” she grinned as she lifted a small key up into the light for Peach to see.

Clasping her hands together, Peach smiled. “Oh! How clever! I never would have thought to look there.” she said. “They must have learned that trick in Brooklyn.”

Daisy shrugged. “I guess so. Anyway, let’s get inside; I’m freezing.” she went to unlock the door, and Peach noticed her shivering as well.

It took a moment, fumbling with the key, before Daisy managed to get the door open. What they saw had them both cover their mouths, freezing in the doorway.

The brothers were fast asleep in the living room. Mario had somehow dozed off while sitting on the couch, with Luigi’s head resting on a pillow in his lap. It was common knowledge that Luigi could sleep like a log, but Mario was a light sleeper. Startling him could be dangerous if he thought someone was breaking in. Daisy and Peach signalled for each other to stay quiet while stifling giggles.

Peach went to shut the door before the chill could rush in and wake anyone up. Daisy went to go look at the snoozing brothers, trying as hard as she could to not laugh. It was understandable; they were so used to seeing the brothers on high alert, ready for action. To see them sleeping was a rare, but nice change. They hardly ever got a chance to relax.

Once the door was locked, Peach let out a deep breath and raised her arms to use her magic. The house was warm again. She knew Mario would have been fine; his Firebrand gave him a unique tolerance to the cold. But poor Luigi didn’t get the same gift from his Thunderhand. Perhaps that was why Mario was sleeping there with Luigi; to keep him warm.

She was touched. The nature of the brother’s relationship was always a privilege to witness; Daisy was the closest thing Peach had to a sibling, and she was sure the reverse was true as well. So they always loved to see the way Mario and Luigi acted around one another.

“I love their sweaters,” Daisy whispered, reaching over the back of the couch to touch Luigi’s sleeve.

Peach smiled and nodded. “I know. They look so comfy,” she kept her tone low and careful, as she went to stand in front of Mario. She couldn’t touch him; he would wake up.

But they just looked so cozy sleeping there. Peach got an idea, and shared a playful look with Daisy. “Oh, it’s so dark and cold outside, Daisy. We can’t possibly trek all the way back to the castle in this weather,” she pretended to sigh.

Playing along, Daisy put a hand to her forehead. “You’re so right, Peach. I guess we don’t have a choice.” she came around in front of the couch. “We have to spend the night here.”

Their exaggerated tones worked. Mario stirred, and blinked blearily. “Wh…” he started to say. He must have been too tired to be alarmed. He shifted, but Luigi didn’t wake up. “What…”

“Oh, Mario, thank goodness!” Peach reached out and touched his cheek, and the gesture immediately had the intended effect. Mario jolted up, looking with wide eyes between the two of them. “It’s so very cold outside, I’m afraid we have to stay here with you two until morning!”

Mario didn’t even have time to say anything as Peach and Daisy moved to join the brothers on the couch. “Here, I’ll take this one off of your hands,” Daisy sat on the other end of the couch, and pulled on Luigi’s arm until he was laying against her instead. Luigi curled up a little bit, his hands disappearing in his sweater sleeves, but he didn’t wake up. Meanwhile, Peach went to take the vacated spot beside Mario.

His sweater was soft, and he was even warmer than she expected him to be. Their plan had worked flawlessly. Peach and Daisy shared smug grins before settling to go to sleep.

“This must be a dream…” Mario said to himself, and he had already started to nod off again. He adjusted his arms around Peach.

Luigi mumbled something into Daisy’s shoulder, and smiled in his sleep. Daisy giggled and held him close. The brothers were just too cute when they were sleepy.

“Hush, now. Sweet dreams, hon.” Daisy whispered.

Late night sweater cuddles were the perfect way to spend a blackout at the start of winter.

O~o~O

Thanks for reading!