#i live in the city i dunno what nature is (/joking)

[ashtonisvibing]

JJ with the Kill Jacksepticeye Palette?

sorry this one took so long to make procrastination took a bite of me

anyways, i'm sure you wanted canon jj, but i'm sorry, i just couldn't help but draw normalcy!jameson instead-

bear jj my beloved, even better when he wears his fancy skirts/dresses and dresses up all pretty :3

link to the color palette sheet!

[mechahero]

There's a whoooole bunch of undead guys in Motor City! And while I can't go over every single one of them, here's a small selection of zombies you'll see here! You don't have to use the nicknames for them though, we are all aware of how dumb they sound.

YOU try coming up with a way to tell different zombies apart without sounding like a complete dumbass though. >:/

ROMEROS- Your classic zombie. Slow, shambling and trouble in large crowds. These guys outnumber most of the zombie types here 2 to 1. Compared the zombies they're named after, they're far more smarter than them. While you won't catch them using a rock to bash open a window, you'll at the very least be able to hold normal conversations with them as they're well... normal people still more or less!

You could always ask one what brought them back and sometimes they'll tell that it was due to a satellite that came back from Venus. Don't take it to heart though, it's mostly a joke.

LANDERS- Said to be the victims of a disease (probably rabies or mad cow disease or something, we don't fricking know), these zombies are bit uh... complicated. These guys take the longest to get back on track and get them acting like the humans they used to be. It's no fault of their own obviously, but man is their particular strain of zombification a complete BITCH to work with. It makes them bitey, spew-y and all around JERKS the first few months of unlife.

They're alright once you get them back down to normal but you really gotta stick it out through those months to do it. And the kicker? They can only make more of themselves via biting. Or if they've got a cold and are inconsiderate enough to not cover their mouths when they sneeze. Not that you'll catch any of the ones here biting people though. That's rude and they're more likely to be chowing down on junk food than people. They looove stuff like Ding Dongs and stuff like that.

Not every Lander is the same though, since some of them seem to act completely differently to the regular Landers. One of them snuck up on me the other day, it wasn't fun.

TRAINRUNNERS- Okay, forget what I said about the Landers. THESE guys are complicated. Kind of, I mean. They're fast, super durable for the most part and their strain is also spread through bite and boy, does it spread FAST. It's probably for the best that there's so few of them living here. That's nothing against them, of course but uh... it's not fun to deal with?

And if takes a while to get a Lander back on track, then it takes even longer for a Trainrunner. Which is not as pleasant as you can imagine when they get out of control but hey, we push through. Some of them are kind of prickly people to deal with though. We're not sure if that's because of the way their strain affects their brains or if some of them are natural born jerks. But either way, if you see some literally rotten looking people with varicose like veins and wearing sunglasses (their eyes ARE kind of gross looking), then you're seeing a Trainrunner. Just be cool around them and you'll be okay.

I dunno who originally coined their nickname though. We don't even have trains here?

NEWDEADS- A sort of catchall term for zombies that don't fit in the standard definition of zombie but are similar enough to their regular counterparts to qualify as one. It's not too uncommon to see a Newdead with a pulse (That's me!) but as long as they have a couple of traits seen in either Romeros, Landers, or Trainrunners, they can count as a Newdead. The one difference between a Newdead and the other zombie types though is that Newdeads don't have to worry about losing control and going on a complete rampage just to eat some dang flesh. Newdeads are kind of like humans the most? But also kind of not? They're stuck in a weird in between of being both and neither.

Don't ask how a zombie can have a pulse though. Yeah, I know it doesn't make sense but we're all made and sometimes rot and decompose in different ways and you'll break your brain trying to understand it so don't fricking question it. We're all kind of dead and that's just it! :>

Anyways, that should be just about every type of zombie seen here mostly! Might have missed a few but I can always edit this thing. Or just make new pamphlets. Either one. Next one's going to be about vampires and let me tell you that one's gonna be wayyyy easier! Well bye! ^_^b <- (me giving you a thumbs up)

[actuallyevilgay]

The Apathy (Part 4)

Astarion x Male Reader/Tav

DNI if you are a minor. Dead dove don’t eat. Please read my about before replying. Content: Astarion x Male tav, this is post epilogue.

Summary: Astarion learns the details about Tav's encounter with the guards. Tav continues to work at Jilvy's tavern, trying really hard. Reminders: Astarion is the vampire ascendant, Tav is not a heroic figure. Contains headcanons for several characters, contains headcanons for illithid brain alteration but not evolving. Tav uses daggers and magic. Astarion is an Arcane Trickster Rogue. I created several npcs. Some Neverwinter lore is mentioned but might not be lore friendly. Content Warnings: Tav suffering from depression / ptsd, self-neglect. A/N: Read part 3 here. Current Part may be a bit shorter? Idk, been busy. If this updates slow, blame the holidays. If it updates often, it's because I have nothing else to do haha.

.......

‘’Three warm drinks, for our guests.’’ The watchshield guardswoman who previously announced a crime in the city square was now leading Astarion and his Bodyguards through a very prestigious looking building.

‘’He is on bedrest currently, unfortunately you’ll have to wait until he wakes.’’ She bowed her head to the disguised vampires, trusting that they were a band of adventurers eager to put their feet in the criminal case.

Astarion looked to Vand and Ty, who stood their ground for a moment as he sat down on a couch. Vand, who was the quiet one.. Remaining put. He stretched his legs and cracked his shoulders before resting his hands on his hips. Ty on the other hand was eager to keep up his excited Adventurer persona, plopping down on the couch next to Astarion Childishly.

‘’A warm drink sounds great, don’t you think so, boss?’’ He turned to Astarion who grinned. ‘’I Can’t wait, my body is aching for some precious warmth.’’ He wasn’t lying, he was speaking a simple truth. As their bodies did not produce warmth, the winter could be a little too distasteful for vampires, even the vampire ascendant himself.

There are several ways for vampires to gain some body warmth.. Linger around a heartfire, fight, travel around magma.. Friction through physical contact.. Or drinking blood from a living being. Whether it was thinking or unthinking. A warm beer or a hot drink could do the trick too, or sunlight immunity during the spring and summer.

‘’What’s a walking corpse to do in the winter?’’ Astarion jokes as they received their drinks. ‘’Dunno, freeze to death even more?’’ Ty joked back. There’s an awkward chuckle among the guards, even though they didn’t catch on that their guests were vampires. It was much more likely that it reminded them of the time neverwinter was partially overrun by undead. Something with a necromancer and curse.

The rivers around this place supposedly never froze, so long as the water was connected to the volcano in the distance. Natural hot springs existed nearby. Neverwinter did not mean neversnow necessarily. What’s a winter without snow if not a secondary fall?

Once the hot liquid got through his throat, Astarion cleared his breath when the guardswoman returned. ‘’He’s awake enough to answer your questions, though I doubt he’d say anything new.’’ The woman looked unsure, yet for the vampire lord nothing was certain. Any tidbit of clue towards Tav’s whereabouts was worth wringing out of these folks. To him, they were simply just walking vermin with heartbeats. He, a predator. And If the world feels threatened by your existence, who do you really trust? Certainly any adventurer eager to come through the door.. Or Blades for hire. What a simple world, ripe for the taking.

And as he had for quite a while now, through doors he walked with ease.

The guardsman didn’t seem as badly injured as the rest of the guards described him to be. Bandages covered the area of his stab wound, there were bruises… The most exceptional and noteworthy thing about his state was the bandage wrapped around his head. A concussion? Hmm. Hopefully this conversation would not be a headache.

Vand and Ty made their move to position themselves near the door of the infirmary room. Trying to seem less suspicious, Ty pretended to distract Vand with a blade trick.

‘’Don’t mind my friends, I’ve come here to ask about your attacker. There’s some things I need to know to track him down easier.’’ Astarion remained focussed.

The guardsman nodded. ‘’Forgive me, I may speak.. Slowly. He dropped a roof on my head.’’

‘’A roof you say?’’

‘’Yes, I was simply.. Renting a room. He broke in- and- …lunged at me with a hideous dagger!’’

‘’How did he drop a roof on you?’’

‘’How? I don’t.. Uh- There was a flash. Purple.. Pink? Light. Before I knew it he was gone as I was.. bleeding out under the rubble..’’

The guardsman proceeds to cough up some blood. ‘’Did a number on me.. Bastard.’’

The feeling this guard was giving him felt ominous, it was becoming more and more difficult to keep the friendly facade. ‘’Are you being fully honest with me?’’ Astarion’s disguised eyes looked at him with more intensity every second.

‘’Yes.’’

Astarion leaned forward, his voice became malicious. ‘’You don’t understand. You need to speak the truth. Tell me your real thoughts.’’ A charm spell flowed out through the spoken words, and before the guard could notice, it started taking effect.

‘’Some homeless trash.. Thought he looked like easy pickings- A monster. Blasted through the roof after- Ugh..’’

‘’After what?’’

‘’After I..’’ As the guard spoke in detail of what he attempted that night, Astarion’s cold blood boiled in fury. He was about to choke him.. Then- rationale calmed him down. He came here for information, so Killing had to wait. Just for a little bit.

‘’Describe him.’’

The guard’s description that followed was vague, it almost did not sound like Tav, until the following words fell from this pig’s lips. ‘’He looked dull, almost like a doll.’’ Once more the memory of Tav’s departure crawled back into Astarion’s head. He was about to crack. Oh no, no.. He was going to cave this pig’s skull in.

‘’Where did you store his weapon?’’ 

‘’It’s in the evidence collection chest, head guard’s quarters. Keeps discarded trinkets.. Like trophies.’’ With that answer given, Astarion gave a nod to his spawn. Ty immediately put on a joyful smirk, ‘’Enjoy your time, Master.’’ before going out the door and casting an invisibility spell on himself.

The charm spell put on the guard started to slowly wane, making the guard come to his senses. ‘’What the.. What are you- I did nothing wrong! What did you do to me?’’ Once more, he began throwing a coughing fit.

Astarion giggled, then chuckled, then laughed at the man. ‘’Oh, oh, oh. No.. No this won’t do.’’ His disguise self spell began to drop while he cracked his knuckles. He did some hand stretches to loosen up the building tension in his wrists.

‘’I’ve made a vow to punish every moron who dares to put their hands on the very few little things I genuinely care about.’’  A deep breath.. He put a foot on the bedrest.

‘’And,’’ With the click of his fingers, a knife of ice formed in his hand. ‘’I’ve not done anything to you yet.’’ He pointed it towards the man’s crotch.

The guard winced in response, realising what was about to happen to him. ‘’Hmm.. I can’t play with you here though.. Pity.’’ Astarion clicked his teeth, erasing the ice knife. ‘’What to do.. What to do..’’

A pause.

‘’How quickly do they bury their dead in neverwinter? You might make a fine freezing corpse..’’

……

Did you think that was a nice, cozy little niche tavern? Well. It did have a rush hour. Jilvy wasn’t joking around when she put out a sign bringing her book club back. It invited customers to buy and read a specific book from a store next door, discussing its chapters openly in the tavern.

Customers still had to pay for their drinks and snacks, but for book club days especially, the amount of snacks and drinks required would pile up.. Not just that- Book club days had special menu items that would only be brought out to customers visiting that day.

You were sure you’re sweaty, even if the heat was not unwelcome. Despite Jilvy’s best efforts, you were prone to getting cold easily. Bad circulation and neglect does that to a body.

‘’Tav, Tav-’’ Jilvy tried to get your attention as you were rushing to get through the dishes.

‘’Tav- Please take a break. Thank you, but you really should lie down.’’ Her concerned voice hovered over you, putting the rapid wiping of plates to a halt. She climbed onto the counter so she could touch your forehead and take your temperature. 

‘’You really should lie down in your bed, dear.’’

‘’Are you sure..? It’s a busy night.. I can handle myself.’’ A partial lie. You could certainly continue on, but handling yourself like that was going to end with a fainting spell sooner or later. While you finally could eat the correct amount of food to sustain yourself, your body wasn’t used to it anymore, leaving you with limited energy and bad constitution.

In truth, you wanted to keep working to keep your mind off the visions. Sleeping was something you could not do peacefully, at all.

Every Time you went to bed, it was a risk. You’d rather hide under the covers than sleep under them. 

‘’Yes! If you’re ill, that is not good for business.’’

‘’It’s just a cold.. Let me clean a few more plates at least.’’ Your response was met with Jilvy’s motherly glare. When she looked like this, all you could think of was ‘’No but’s, and that’s that.’’ Because she never actually said the words. You just knew what it meant.

In defeat, you put the sponge and towels down, hanging your head. 

‘’It’s not going to make me feel better.’’ You mumbled, moving past her.

You could swear Jilvy’s eyes burned into your back, but not with anger, only heartfelt worry.

A part of you felt a loathing for it, being pitied? Or being cared for?

No.. It was more like guilt. The stares of the tavern clients were more exhausting than Jilvy’s mothering banter ever would be. Jilvy cared about you, she definitely did. The customers might view you differently. You were just a face behind the counter, never striking conversations unless talked to. You were Jilvy’s little project to them. Something to whisper about.

When Gale, the wizard that came here a few days ago.. Started frequenting, you wondered why. He took a lot of time in preparing these insane presentations for the book club, making himself popular and driving more customers to return for the hours.

How long do Wizard holidays last? He certainly enjoyed his vacation. The troublesome encounter from his first arrival never made another appearance.

Gale never talked to you, he just glanced with a strange familiar expression whenever you handed him his drinks and snacks. There were times he wanted to try and make conversation, only to withhold whatever he was going to say to you.

Maybe he just thought you were attractive? Perhaps the friend he was trying to find liked book clubs, and staying here would have them wind up sooner or later.

As you head to the backroom and walk up the stairs towards the living area, you hear faint shuffling coming from a storage closet. A rat? 

On tippy toes, you quietly walk over to open the closet. Nothing ordinary with it- yet a whisk of wind went past you, blurring your vision briefly.

‘’What the-’’ You could’ve sworn you heard footsteps just now..  No, it had to be the snow outside. The loud hail clattering against the window summoned all sorts of paranoia the night before. Like visions of blades clattering against each other, or a mere bristling of unsettling winds. A shiver ran down your spine as a result.

Your strength definitely did not last today either, Jilvy was right as she always was.. The faint feeling of an upcoming headache overtook you. The building around you trembled from a quake only you were experiencing.

Weakly, you manage to make it over to your bed, eyeing the wardrobe in front of it, which was half open.

Certainly you tidied it up earlier? The wind must’ve crept in through the walls somehow. You always close the doors behind you. You can’t stand it otherwise.

As sleep forces its way through your heavy body, another shiver runs down your spine.

If the paranoia from the visions you experienced hadn’t troubled you many nights before, you’d be sure someone was watching you right now.

[punkslovepoints]

THE A IS FOR ALLY: A STRANGER THINGS FIC (STEDDIE) PT 2

After his friends come out one by one, Steve settles comfortably into his new role as an ally. He moves to the city with Robin, joins groups, attends protests, even takes a gender studies class. 

Then in 1991 Eddie comes crashing back into his life.

If you'd have asked seventeen year old Eddie Munson who he imagined he'd name as his best friend when he grew up, prissy Nancy Wheeler wouldn't have appeared on the longlist, let alone at the number one spot.

But living with her they had developed a friendship unlike any he had before.

It had taken a while. She wasn't the most forthcoming person, she was hard around the edges, something built up from years of grief, loss and having to be the smartest, most capable person in the room, but he kinda loved that about her. She suffered no fools. Yet she respected him, Eddie, who grew up feeling like an idiot, repeating senior year three times, Nancy Wheeler liked him for his intelligence, for his conversation.

They had started hanging out almost by necessity. Robin and Steve still committed to going on dates once a week, leaving the loft and heading off on adventures together. Sometimes it was as simple as a coffee, but often they'd come back covered in paint after attending a protest of some kind, or return with tales of how Robin had attempted and failed to steal a monkey from Indianapolis zoo, a story he never really got to the bottom of.

Their weekly adventures left Nancy and Eddie at a bit of a loss without their natural buffers. Nancy, being the more organized of the two had come to him with an offer. They'd try out their own dates. One to begin with to see what they actually had in common, beyond the obvious, then more in the future if the first one worked out.

They agreed to start small with a coffee date.

Nancy met him there from work, sat down opposite him, spine straight, hands clasped in front of her, her purse to her side. “I thought we could play twenty questions.”

Eddie laughed, "Jesus, Wheeler. Is this a date or an interview?"

She smiled a sly smile at him, "There's a difference?"

He laughed again. “So what are the rules of this date-slash-interview?”

“We ask twenty questions between us, ten each. You can’t ask what you’ve been asked and no follow-up questions.” She paused, then pointed at him, ”And we get increasingly personal the longer we go on.” Eddie grinned. This could be fun.

Nancy started. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Yellow?”

“Not black?”

“No. No follow-up questions. Favorite musician?”

“Blondie. What book have you read that stayed with you?”

“March 3rd 86 edition of Newsweek,” he joked. Nancy threw him a look. He put on a voice and quoted, “The Devil has come to America, ” then laughed, "I mean, obviously it's Lord of The Rings. Favorite contemporary musician”

“You.”

“Funny.”

“I dunno, Guns N Roses” Eddie raised an eyebrow and she shrugged. “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“A firetruck.”

“Like a fireman?”

“No, just a firetruck. Spent weeks on end running around wailing at the top of my voice. No wonder my parents got rid of me.” Nancy winced, but no follow-ups.

“What did you want to be?”

“No repeats. You’re breaking the rules of the game already.”

“What can I tell you, I’m not a fan of authority. Answer the question.”

“A journalist. Unsurprisingly, I’m pretty single minded. Do you think your life would have been different if you'd graduated the first time round?"

"Yes. I'd never have met Chrissy."

"Shit."

"Yeah. What did you like the most about Barb?"

"That's a nice one.” Nancy took her time to answer. “She was always watching out for me even when I wasn't watching out for myself. Do you still dream about it"

"The Upside Down? Of course. Do you wish it had never happened?"

"Of course," she responded immediately and then thought for a little longer, "Some parts of it. Maybe not others."

"Which parts?"

"No follow up questions," she smirked. "Would you have done anything differently if you could do it again?"

"No. I don't think so. Running back to fend off the bats bought you more time. Sad I missed out on the finale though. Do you think your mum had an affair with Billy Hargrove?"

"Low blow, Munson. I know there were rumors. No, I don't think she did. I do think she wanted to. What happened with your parents?"

Eddie shrugged. "They didn't want me, Wayne did. How old were you when you lost your virginity?"

"Sixteen. Steve Harrington."

"Cute."

"Shut up. When did you realize you were gay?"

"Probably about fourteen, Magnum PI."

"Tom Sellek?"

"No follow up questions."

"That's not a question, I'm just surprised."

"What made you fall in love with Robin?"

"No one thing. She's just Robin."

"Cop out answer, but accepted."

"Next question. Tom Sellek?"

Eddie laughed, "It was the chest hair. I'm a sucker for overt masculinity. Question eighteen. When did you stop loving Steve?"

She smiled, "Romantically, probably a few months before we broke up my junior year. But I'll never stop loving him, not properly. We weren't right together, and what I have with Robin now is obviously so much better in every way. But he'll always be my first love. That means something."

Eddie smiled at her, stirred his coffee, "Your question now."

"When did you?"

"When did I what?" He knew what she was asking but he wanted to buy himself a bit of time.

"When did you stop loving Steve?"

“I thought repeating questions was against the rules.”

She smiled, “I think we've both broken that one."

He considered lying, considered asking surprised, asking what she meant. Despite how many questions he'd answered already, this one was different, this one wasn't in the past. Then he realized he'd left the silence to hang for too long. That was an answer in itself. He looked at her.

"Even now?" She asked. She didn't sound all that surprised.

He shrugged, "Even now."

"That sucks. I'm sorry."

Eddie laughed, "It's fine. It really is. You said, right. You're never going to really stop loving him? Maybe nobody does? Maybe once Steve Harrington finds his way under your skin he just stays there."

"Like a parasite."

"God, the hottest parasite I've ever seen." Nancy's laugh was a little snort. Cute. They watched each other for a beat.

"Final question. The most personal question in the world. What would win in a fight, a badger or a baboon."

Nancy laughed again. "Are we talking European badger or Honey Badger here?" She asked.

It was Eddie's turn to laugh this time. ”There’s a difference?”

They continued their dates. Any time Robin and Steve set off on their adventures, Nancy and Eddie would head for coffee, or something a little stronger. Their conversations would mostly revolve around asking each other increasingly perplexing questions about life, the universe and everything, but every once in a while, Nancy would ask about Steve. Check how Eddie was doing. He appreciated having somebody to talk to.

[READ THE REST OF THE CHAPTER ON A03]

Badges in the image credits:Buffalo State Activist Pin & Button Exhibit [c. 1970-2018] and The ArQuives Artifacts Collection

[ducknotinarow]

MM Michelangelo - All Symbol Headcanons please uwu

| Send me a symbol and I will write a headcanon about…  For multimuse blogs, please specify!

Its ya boi! Mikey uwu I admit I do love him just as much as I do any other Mikey's I dunno it is nice to see him not just reduced to baby but he is still very baby ;3; like telling Splinter he loves them and going "kisses" just nice as someone who grows tried of how often Mikey can be flanderized or infantilized giving him a slight more maturness was just a nice change of pace. I wish we got a bit more but as i mentioned before I understand for the story and time why we didn't we'er gonna get more so I look forward to more Mikey soon.

𝓕 : My muse’s handwriting. (Is it good, bad, difficult to decipher, do they prefer writing by hand or with the help of some form of machine, e.t.c.) 

"It me Micheal Angelo!" Untill I know for sure what they do for a last name i'm sticking with the joke I won't change my tags of course but ya know XD. In a lot of the promo art they show Mikey's name with a star over the I even when capital and it's cute i'm keeping it. It shows off Mikey's more child like and playful nature. Due ti the size, spacing and slant in his hand writing Mikey is a people pleaser and likes to avoid confrontation. Which we do see when it comes to them meeting the other mutants and even being against their plan Mikey agreed they can't let them do it but he still felt bad for having to be against them. Even among his brothers Mikey sort shows this peace keep mentality even among his brothers though he isn't above getting upset with leo for snitching on them. Because he may show these traits he isn't going to back down when it comes to defending himself, his words or others when he feels the need todo so. If there is a need of course. Mikey dose show he dose in fact over think here and there mostly when it comes to the situation him and his brothers are in.

Day dreamer he is he liked to think about if they weren't shunned from society they could be like humans their age. But that coming from having to remove that fact hes a mutant from his mind before he can indulge in the idea. Mikey also is someone that once he commit and puts his mind to something his ambition will carry him far.

✈ : My muse and  traveling. (If they do it frequently and why, if they never left their home town, e.t.c.)

"I've been a few places in New York? but that's about it really."

Mikey and his brothers haven't gone to a lot of places yet, mostly moving across New York and I wouldn't be too surprised if it's not even all that much of the city it's self likely the most travel happening when they go after the big crime families of New York.

✿ : My muse and nature. (If they are an ‘outdoorsy type’, like the sound of bird’s singing, if they have never set foot in a forest, e.t.c.) 

"I mean never really been? I'm a turtle so I dunno I bet that gives me an advantage maybe."

Mikey may live in a sewer and be a mutant turtle but I don't think he adapt to nature too well not like the hard core camping where you sleep on the ground. And such maybe be fine with a tent at least but he likely perfer some comfort of not being in the woods like able to be on his phone. But He might be fine with out it if really had to go with out the device hes still a someone who grew up with tech so there will be a miss for it.

☼ : My muse’s first memory. (Where it was, who was with them, how this memory makes them feel, e.t.c.) 

"hmm Pizza yeah the pizza for sure." I feel Mikey first memory was when Splinter first got them that Pizza uwu, it was the most beautiful thing the turtle ever laid his eyes on. This must be what love is. Okay there some over hyping but come on it's a Mikey Pizza may be the food of all the turtles but we know who loves it the most out of the four of them. It was also something new. And something so very common and normal for humans to enjoy just something Mikey wished he could do walk into a pizza place and get a slice. So mundane to most but for someone who can't do that?

☙ : My muse’s favourite food. (Bonus: A memory, be it good or bad, associated with said food.)

"Pizza of course." Feel Like I put too much in the memory forgetting this question is also here haha but yeah it's pizza for Mikey of course. Even when him and brothers were busy with their take down of Super fly plan he did go for the Pizza Splinter got for them. I feel it's a comfort food for Mikey, something Splinter would try and get for his boys when ever he could. Just this nice little treat that helped to brighten up his and his brothers days. Sure they can go out at night and such but somethings it get to him feel like he and his family were punished for simply existing (the scene with him gazing out from the sewer grid with the bars shadows over him ffffff hurts!)

But Splinter would get his hands on a fresh hot pizza and try and make it special for them so now mikey can't help but feel comfort around a good piece ;3;

♬ : My muse and music. (What type of music they like listening to and in what context, what music they would never listen to, e.t.c.)

"Nah I listen just about anything, even if I can't sign BTS songs for Donnie." Mikey likes rap and hiphop mostly stated off what sounds from the soundtrack I feel Mikey would be a fan off. He doesn't like old school music as well so he dips into the 90's era of music as well. Due to their life style sure they can be caught up on what new known but they were able to get their hand son the older stuff first.

Which helped to cement what kind of sounds and such that Mikey finds him self more drawn towards. Mikey just likes a good song he vibe with. Music is something he more turns to depending on his moods. If he feeling sad he dose like to listen to sad music and so on. He feels its a very good way for him to go through how he is feeling. Sometimes others words help him connect to his how emotions.

↺ : My muse and the past. (Do they live in the past and struggle to let go of past grievances, or move on more easily, is there anything in their past they want to forget, e.t.c.) 

"Well I mean I try not to think about much or I just get bummed out ya know?"

Lets be honest the turtles past? Sucks. It sad when you really look at these boys who just wants something so mundane as being able to go to school that getting to walk into a school excites them? They in a sense have freedom humans don't but they want this basic thing that many would moan and groan over. They were exited just to see a school hallway to mess around and sign up for an improve class even. Mikey rather focus on the future they have over wanting to look back. Course that doesn't mean the good times that part he dose think back on.

Just him, his brothers and their father, like bath time just playing around as kids. Raph waking him and broths up due to his fear of the dark. Mikey finding glow stars and setting them up claiming it was for him but it was really for Raphael. Cause the guy would never own up to the fear. He doesn't like to reflect on the bad times when it comes to the past rather stick to what was good even if that wasn't enough to make him content in that life for long.

☾ : My muse and sleep. (How much they sleep, how much they wish to sleep, if there is something that never fails to put them to sleep, e.t.c.) 

"Nah I'm good about sleep"

Mikey and his family for sure lived a nocturnal life before having to readjust but I feel Mikey was always someone able to go to bed at a decent time and up early not too early of course, Mikey dose enjoy getting a good amount of hours in to sleep. But when the sun is out? He is also up just as bright and sunny as it. He aint the sunshine turtle for nothing after all. Mikey only struggles to sleep when he is excited about something he cant wait for the next day to come around that his body just is not tried at the time. Those are the only times he misses out on his sleep but true to who he is still manages to have energy to get him through the day.

✧ : My muse and art. (If they have an artistic side or not and why, favourite artist if they have one, e.t.c.) 

"Ya know improve is very artistic." Mike's much more for performance art one could say as someone who always is thinking on his feet however though it makes sense that he dose take an intrest into improve being able to come up with things on the spot and working without any script or clue of what is going on? Yeah it fits very well with his mind set. He's quick to take note of his surroundings and working with what he has to execute plans like using donnies bo staff so make sense why improve appeals.

I feel in terms of a favorite person? Mikey really loves actors who can jump into improve like Robin Williams, loves catching SNL skits and other late night shows for this reason. He tries to bring in that same losse and easy going style to his own humor because he just finds it works best more so in stressful situations.

❃ : My muse and social media. (If the muse is/would be on social media and why/why not, their general opinion on it, e.t.c.) 

"No as much as Like Don's glue to his stuff but yeah i use a lot of it myself." Mikey for sure gets more use out of it once he starts to make friends. Like mostly in use of twitter, Instagram and Snap chat himself. Of course, Twitter is meant for following celebs and such but he also just posts nothing major or of value just a normal account where he chats with friends and mutals. Instagram is for sure where he posts photos of stuff he sees around the city or at home. Likes to take pictures of his family. Just small thing like hanging out with his brothers or stuff he thinks might be fun or funny to share.

He dose also use tiktok where I can see him having a platform for his improving skills I can see him being like Thomas Sanders where all his content is very light hearted aimed to just make you day better give you laugh even.

✉  : My muse and others. (If they social and outgoing or more introverted, and why. If they prefer communicating with others face to face or in written form, e.t.c.). 

"I like people with good vibes mostly." Unlike 2012 mikey he's not one to deal with the whole jealously aspect of his brothers getting new friends if anything he really wants them to do well oh he will still tease them on their crushes of course and call them out for being dorks. But he full on supportive younger brother here. If things go wrong? I feel hes the shoulder for his brothers to rest their heads on. And unlike 03 mikey I feel he's not as great about picking up on when someone might not be all that good to trust. Seeing how they all fall for Super flys charm after all, Even not able to pick up on the vibes from Mondo seeing how they clicked right away when they first met themselves. So it might not be abnormal for Mikey to have a few bad friendships in the near coming future simply because he is such a nice and friendly and welcoming person. Some people may take advantage of that but Mikey tends to let it roll of his back, in the open at least.

Mikey tries his best to stick to his easy going ways but somethings? it can be a bit to much even for him.

At school I feel Mikey is that kid who can mingle among all the groups and cliques. He just can vibe with a different mix of people he knows the theater kids, he knows jocks, the kid who go home everyday ect. He's pretty good about diffusing tension even usual making it to where everyone leave chilled and clam after.

▶ : My muse and level of education. (If the muse has some form of education, what education they perhaps wish they had, e.t.c.). 

"I'm in school now I dunno if I wanna pursue more though? I mean maybe an associates at least?"

As excited as Mikey is to start going to school he hasn't thought much pass a high school degree himself. Community college is likely the most he'll go with next maybe through a scholarship from the preforming arts section. If anything he might look to community theater to keep pursuing improve as an outlet. So that he can learn to sharpen that more.

◐ : My muse and animals. (If they like animals and treat them well, do not care for them at all, e.t.c.). 

"I mean? I'm a turtle, my bros are turtles, my dad's a rat, we got even more animals in the family?" LOOOK MANY PREVIOUS MIKEYS HAD CATS! I like to think Mikey will also find his own cat ;3; likely more how 03 found Klunk or like how April found the cat that became Ice cream kitty in the 12 series. I think he would find an animal in need of home and decide their home is with them. Maybe something a little out there even or like a dog to match his energetic side?

❒ : My muse and gifts. (If they are good/bad at finding gifts, good/bad at receiving gifts, good/bad at wrapping gifts, e.t.c.) 

"Gifts can be hard, I mean it gotta fit them be something they want or could even need? show you thought about them even," I think Mikey being Mikey is pretty good at knowing a sort thought process to follow for gifts. I feel no matter what it is clear he had you in mind so the gift liekly is always well received Mikey very much is someone who puts thought into the gifts he gets no matter what that gift is though.

☘ : My muse’s relation with their family. (If they speak with each other and how much, if they are close or estranged, e.t.c.). 

"I love them, and now? we have even more! Course Mondo is who i'm closest two guys vibe is real chill ya know?"

Mikey loves his family he really is all about them. He loves Splinter and everything he dose for them and tries to do for them. Like in part he can understand Splinter is just trying to protect them even if he can go a bit to far at times Mikey always knows its from a place of love. And well hes lucky to have a parent who loves him, his brothers even like that.

His brothers? He in the youngest and sometimes that can be a pain but he would change any of them given the chance. Of course, he still gonna be a little shit at times they are his siblings and well it just what you do to your brothers. He didn't make the rules but he follows them. He take advantage of his lil bro status loving to perch on Leo and Raph jumping up on them and such. He sometimes will do it a bit towards Donnie bout never fully throwing his weight their way. Mikey dose for sure see his brothers as his best friends they are the ones he can tell everything to. Even share those thoughts he doesn't find as pleasant. I feel he tends to go to each brother for different reasons however. Nothing against any of them just he feels he knows who would be the best to talk to about what ever is bugging him.

With his expanding family? He is closest to Mondo seeing them more like his own best friend. Mondo just gets him in a way many don't they even get into the same stupid antics together. So he can often be found skating in the tunnels with them or getting into some trouble with them. I do feel Mondo is a bit older than Mikey so he sometimes tries to take responsibility but pretty sure Mikey tends to have to step up the most when Splinter starts to scold them.

[windandwater]

Central Park observations:

it’s happening. low rise flared jeans are back. all our warnings were in vain.

goth teens are also a thing again which is less alarming but I do always want to stop them and tell them how much they look like we did in 2002 just to find out what happens when you do that

overheard b/t a dad & his kid: kid: I wanna go into nature dad: you wanna go into nature? you know what’s in nature, right? kid: I dunno what’s in nature...maybe some good nature

not pictured: me looking the direct opposite direction so no one would see me cracking the fuck up, and risking ruining this interaction

walked over a pretty cute wooden bridge and behind me some dude said “some hobbit” probably lives under it and I totally looked at him and grinned but I was fighting down the urge to rules lawyer that lil joke. in this city?? under a bridge?? SIR--

[nervousndepressd]

i think about you alot. its bad for me. you creep into my thoughts and i get anxiety. it pains me. i think about harming you. nevr physically, its always meta, like hurting ur art or hurting ur image or ur soul. as damaged as it already is. i nver actually want to though, its just coping mechanism to get through the pain. maybe if u felt it id be untraumitized.

 i want to heal to be rid of this pain. i dont want to think about you. its just that my love ran so deep, like poisonous vines they wraped around my heart my lungs, spreading so wide and taking root in places i never knew existed. weed killer isnt enough.

what else to say. ive never really spoken about u to others, never about what you did. ive admitted to my wrongs to my love our love. it feels embarressing, that im still hhung up on this like im a child. its been years my gods. im different ive gone through things ive loved since you and hurt and felt and lived. but your pain aches me. 

id run and hide if i saw you, i mean i did before and my day was fucked. i was with someone i liked and they joked abt giving you a ride. it hurt cause they didnt know how i felt. i tried to explain it but i mean how. how do i explain it all. being betrayed so greatly by a childhood friend. ur first love stabbing you in the heart. i just wish it never happened at all at times. so many reminders all over this city

im leaving soon, im sure youd be happy to know. we can have cities to ourselves. no town is big enough for the both of us. 

itll feel so nice leaving my home to get coffee uninterrupted with the feeling of u being around any corner or on a patio. ill heal in time from all of this i know. its so fucked up you left me with all of this. i know i left you with shit that hurts too. we really had sweet love at one point. i wish i could remember just that and move on. its not possible. i dunno if im capable of giving that kind of love again. 

idk if i can trust how i trusted you. i felt so safe, and my own safety hurt me. i wonder if i deserved it. maybe it was punishment like how ive felt my whole life, that pain is my natural state. tht pain is how the gods intended it all to be.

in the end, my rational self wishes you well. that you find warmth from the cold and eat good food. that ur family shows u great unconditional support. that u give back, i know the arts been good. you were always my biggest inspiration. i have to stop myself from viewing ur art because it will pain me. i tell myself uve fallen off and its all bad now so that i dont give it a peak. i hope i see it one day tho. in the wild up in a musuem. and i can interact with this stranger i once knew from a distance. i can sit and say silly pretentious words about the composition and subject. i can laugh, i can move on. you can become a once painful thought thats turned into a memory like any other. taken for good and bad. 

[useless-englandfacts]

What the fuck? I swear your post only had 0 notes, how has it imploded into this...I...what the fuck? I am so sorry you had to witness all of that. Like, IDK, I feel like people *also* forget that 1. Spices don't grow naturally in the UK so for the most part, they're imported products so 2. Herbs would be the most common flavouring, but poor people in cities wouldn't have had much access to growing herbs or getting them as well as the fact they're focused on y'know, *living.* and 3. Plenty of British food is nice, it's just more hearty and ig more pastry n meat than it is about rice or pasta or whatever. Also don't they realise 'poor food' isn't bad food either. Like, there's nothing wrong with black pudding (I know it's personal opinion, but technically it is just oats, herbs and blood) same with haggis (same logic as sausage really). The American stereotyping of British food being bad was also sparked during WW2 when rationing had a huge impact on British cuisine and American soldiers interpreted it as 'Oh, their food is bad' when no, it was because food wasn't so readily avaliable so we fell back on *simpler* things. I dunno, it's just annoying and I am so sorry you have to deal with assholes in your notes all because you pointed out something. - Berkshire Anon

the funniest part is that i hate most traditional british food like spotted dick and cornish pasties and suet puddings and meaty pies and bread pudding (i’m literally vegetarian lol) etc. etc. like… i don’t even agree with myself i was just doing it for the bit!!!

besides the joke was really supposed to be about the cost of living crisis, not about british cuisine but maybe it’s my fault for thinking that people on the internet had the critical thinking skills to be able to figure that out for themselves or to at least shut up and scroll past. it’s not that deep!!! please!!!

but anyway this is very nice of u to send fkdjdjd thank u! and a nice bit of food history to boot!

[falling-pages]

A bird? A bird: Hikaru x Haruhi

in which drunk Hikaru is a mood.

-

Hikaru Hitachiin x Haruhi Fujioka

-

Enemies to lovers, non-host club au, aged up au.

-

TW: Drinking

-

The disgust lingered in the back of his throat like iron, like a bad pill you swallow but not fast enough. He fumbled the chaser to his liquor, and now he was stuck with the gross aftertaste. The refuge of his office, where he gulped down air like water, could only last so long. He couldn’t even go out in the common area, break room or restroom without having to see her--and for that, for taking away his freedom and social butterfly antics, he hated her.

Every time he saw her cute little snarl and tight little bun and stiff black skirts enraged him, filling his blood with a heat he didn’t know how to deal with. Despite her short height, she held her nose in the air as she worked, the only way she could look down on everyone like she so desperately craved. Always propping up her law degree, well this and actually that, ruining any jokes he made with a deadpan stare. She messed with his head, distracted him from his work, and for that she must go.

As much as he had tried to get her fired--and he had tried--nothing made the boss budge. He tried pulling rank, as the head of the software department; he tried using his parents’ names; nothing worked.

She’s doing a stellar job, the bossman had said. And, she’s our lawyer. If we did fire her for no reason, she would sue us into the ground.

I do have a reason, Hikaru retorted. She annoys me.

It wouldn’t hold up in court, but it seemed good enough for him.

Hikaru inhaled deeply through his nose, grounding himself by gripping his desk. Surrounded by all his trophies and achievements, he still could only think of her. He had to handle this, or else he’d go insane, but he had no idea where to start.

Kaoru. Kaoru would know what to do.

He rose from his chair, taking one last look behind him at the stained glass city through his clear glass window. Despite it only being mid-afternoon, the city was pulsing and alive with color, birds dive-bombing for food, vendors hawking at passersby, tourists mixing and bumping into natives. Tokyo was loud, and crazy, and alive, where he knew he belonged and longed to be. Even nature was straining at its leash for the workday to end, eager to celebrate the Friday night.

He turned back and shut the lights off in his office, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked. His department was rather quiet, having given his employees the afternoon off. If Haruhi knew, she would chide him, but they were so far ahead of schedule that he couldn’t risk them burning out.

Once up the stairs and around the corner, he heard his brother’s voice laughing and chatting and speak of the devil, she’s here.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. Karou and Haruhi were surprisingly great friends; he tended to mellow her out, help her unwind from the stick up her ass. He just had that calming effect on people.

As soon as he saw her, Hikaru spun a 180 and turned right back around the corner, and Haruhi would have let him, but Karou intervened.

“Hika! Come over here!” he waved, a bright smile splitting his face. “Haruhi was just telling me how much she liked you!”

Haruhi seethed, switching to a guarded pose as soon as she saw him. “I certainly was not.”

“Oh, right, my bad, she was telling me how much she liked your latest game patch,” Kaoru apologized, but it was the furthest thing from sincere. “Tell us about how you came up with it. Haruhi would love to pick your brain.”

Hikaru smirked, testing the waters as he approached. “Is that true, Fujioka?”

She frowns, pushing her bridge up her glasses up her nose. God, those glasses. She looked so dumb in them, making her eyes seem so wide, so innocent, so...pretty. All he wanted to do was pluck them off her face and laugh as she jumped for them, reaching and whining.

“I mean, it’s original, for sure,” she said. His cheeks warmed at the praise, even as she squirmed. “And it should market well, and you didn’t infringe on anyone’s copyright this time.”

That wasn’t my fault. He took the compliment with a grain of salt, biting back, “Still in the whole get-up, I see. Not much for casual Fridays?”

As amber eyes raked down her body, Haruhi concealed the shiver that ran down her spine. “No, actually, because I didn’t go to law school to wear jeans every day at work.”

“You didn’t go to law school to become a smartass, either, but here we are.”

“OKAY!” Kaoru exclaimed, jumping up between them. “Friday afternoon, yeah? Any big plans for the weekend?”

Both instigators ignored him. “That’s the uniform, you know. We tend to be pretty laid back around here.”

“Lawyers can’t be laid back. Laziness and a laissez-faire attitude is how we get sued.”

Hikaru stretched, rolling his eyes. “Woah, woah, pardon your French.”

Haruhi shook her head, and a few mismanaged strands of hair fell from her bun to brush against her neck. Her pink lips perched in contempt, and she looked so fragile, squinting behind her thick-framed glasses, that he couldn’t help but notice how tight her shirt was, tucked into a pencil skirt that hugged so tastefully over her--

“Hika!” Kaoru suddenly exclaimed. “Honey wants to know if we’re still down for drinks tonight.”

His saving grace. “Oh, my God, yes,” he moaned, salivating already at the thought of tequila burning down his throat. Washing the week away was just what he needed, especially with the way this conversation was going.

And then Kaoru did the unthinkable: With his award-winning smile, he turned to Haruhi and asked, “Would you like to come?”

Hikaru could have strangled him.

But God heard his prayers, and the resident buzzkill shook her head. “Thank you, but sorry. I don’t drink.”

“No surprise there,” Hikaru murmured.

Kaoru definitely heard that, but if Haruhi did, she didn’t react. He shot his twin a look, a be polite etched into the lines of his brow.

“Sad,” Kaoru said. He bent over to pick up his work bag, stuffing his bento within and waving to Haruhi. “Maybe next time? We can go out for boba or something.”

Haruhi smiled--Hikaru didn’t think he had ever seen that before. It did something to him; suddenly, he felt as if his body was shaking, like his throat was full of needles, like he had taken one too many to the head.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she said, and the smile disappeared when she looked at him. She gave them both a quick nod. “Have a great weekend.”

“Thanks.”

“See you Monday!”

Hikaru waited until they were out the door before punching his twin in the arm, hard enough to make him yelp.

“Dude, watch it,” Kaoru snapped, brushing over the mussed fabric of his cardigan sleeve. “It’s cashmere.”

“Stop flirting with her.”

Kaoru stopped in his tracks. A cloudy sky obscured the smirk on his face. “Woah, what’s got you so worked up?”

Hikaru kept stomping towards their subway stop, too lost in his own anger to notice who he had left behind. “‘M not worked up,” he retorted. “But you’re dating Kyoya. You shouldn’t be flirting with a girl.”

Kaoru skipped to catch up, joining him as they descended the stairs. “Kyoya said it’s fine if I flirt, as long as I come home to him every night.”

It took everything in Hikaru to keep him from shoving his brother into the sad, drab gray stone walls. He couldn’t put a finger on the irritation nettling just below his skin, or why the first layer of his heart seemed to simmer whenever he caught them talking to each other. All he could figure out was that it burned, and it made him hate her even more.

When he stayed silent, Kaoru knew he was right. He preened as he dug around for his subway card. “Boba isn’t a date.”

“Of course it is.”

“Then maybe you should ask her out on one.”

By then they were at the platform, waiting for their train. As the whistle signaled its approach, Hikaru very seriously considered pushing Kaoru onto the tracks.

“Tch. Over my dead body.”

“Then you can’t be jealous.”

“I’m not--”

Hikaru threw a punch when the train approached, distracting him and allowing Kaoru to live to see another day. As they hurried on, Hikaru couldn’t get his mind out of the gutter--or off her.

Jealous. Pshhh.

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

“I dunno, senpai, she just….she makes me feel something. Whenever she talks to me it’s like my hands are on fire, and my head hurts, and I feel like….like she’s stabbing me. There’s something going on in my chest, like a, like a--a bird. There’s a bird or a butterfly or something with wings in my stomach, and I don’t like it.”

Hikaru knocked back a shot and signaled for another one, eyes bleary as he tried to find the bartender. There were three of them, or maybe that was just how blurry his vision was, but he didn’t care; as long as one of them saw him and passed him another round, he’d tip them the moon.

Mitsukuni watched his friend wave to no one, the effect of one too many fireballs in the span of just two hours. He hadn’t seen Hikaru this hammered since college--and now, at 27, it just looked more like a cry for help than an occasion to let loose. And without Kaoru, who had already gone home with Kyoya and the rest of their friend group, on babysitting duty, Mitsukuni was the one left to make sure he got into a cab.

“A bird?” he asked, watching as Hikaru swung his head in confirmation.

“A bird.” A bartender came back with another shot, handing it to the redhead and giving Mitsukuni a questioning look. He waved at him, confirming he was the babysitter, and the waiter turned back around.

“Tell me about that.”

Hikaru gripped his cup, tonguing at the rim like a sippy cup. “It’s fluttering around, Honey. It’s--hiccup--like, moving. Whenever I see her or talk to her my heart just begins to pound.”

Mitsukuni bit back a smile. His vodka cran lay forgotten on the bar, but this experience was just too amusing to violate with alcohol. “And what do you think that means?”

“Means she’s gonna kill me.”

“Kill you?” His eyebrows shot up. “Why is that?”

Hikaru slurped the shot, spilling some down his chin, and Mitsukuni was fairly sure it was just plain water. “Because. She’s mean, senpai. She looks at me like she’s studying, like she’s gonna slice me in half. Like...I dunno. Like I mean something to her.”

Mistukuni twisted his wedding ring, inching closer to the discovery. He’s almost there, almost recognizing what the rest of the friend group has known for months. “And if you mean something to her, why does your heart flutter?”

“Acid reflux.”

“No, Hikaru.” He gently swatted the other man’s hand down before he could ask for another drink. “It sounds like the beginnings of love, to me.”

Hikaru gaped, not a thought behind those eyes, until it hit him like a wrecking ball. His fist fell to the bar, thudding, but he felt no pain. Only existential dread and a rocketing realization.

“Oh.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh, fuck.”

-

If you like what I write, please considering buying a coffee :)

[mousathe14]

One of the weird little design ideosyncrocies that are simultaneously an unintended accident and a big ol’ bag of sexist double standards is the sexual dimorphism of the main Yordles.

So once upon a time, like, not just before The Great Lore Retcon of 2014, but like within the first year or 2-ish years of League, way before I started playing or even heard of it, everything was still in a primordial soup of design. They created two species of little creatures: Yordles and Meglings.

Yordles are like little hamster people and Meglings were like little blue goblin people. But since they both lived in Bandle City, young Riot decided it’d be easier to just make both things a single species.

And it happened that our earliest playable Yordles were guys and the earliest playable Meglings were gals.

Tristana(released 2009) was a megling

Poppy(released 2010) might’ve been a megling, records are unclear

Satan Teemo(released 2009) is a Yordle

Which is why nearly every female Yordle looks significantly more human than the males.

Like, it’s taken years of design updates, new textures and splash art and animations to get the girls to have bigger pointer ears and get fuzzy skin. But Depending on what you’re looking at it can be really hard to see the fur.

See Trist and Poppy now

But yeah, it is an interesting and distinct feature of the species now, I guess. Male Yordles are significantly furrier and more animal-like with hamster noses and ears and have more natural brown and tan colorations. Female Yordles appear to be of a lighter fuzz and are purple and blue with more human noses and human ear placement.

My only issue is that they’re sort of sticking to it and it feels odd. It’s like all those jokes about media being bad about sexual dimorphism for stuff like orcs where there’s these giant monster orc dudes and these smaller human-y orc ladies. It’s a well worn much hated trope.

The most recent Yordle champion to be released was Ved who came out last year and she has finally squared the Yordle design circle, mostly. She’s got the big ol’ furry hamster ears with the hamster placement all the previous male yordles have, and she’s got the hamster nose, mostly. However she is still not as furry as her male counterparts.

The only Yordle to have previously crossed the color-fur-line was Rumble, who was released in 2011.

To this day, Rumble is the only male Yordle who is blue.

Which, you know, if anyone has any trans headcanons they’d like to throw into the world, there’s your basis. I don’t know who’d want to claim Rumble of all yordles, but more power to ya.

Where am I going with this? I dunno, just some observations I guess. Sexual dimorphism and design is always weird.

It’s almost forgivable with the Yordles because they sort of accidentally stumbled into it rather than going in with sexist intentions of making the women less monstrous because of no good reasons.

However, it’s not a path they’re backing away from. I feel like, much like their new obsession with appeal, they may not be as incentivized to make female yordles be nearly as hamster-y as the males, and I guess all we can do is wait and see how they handle these in the future.

Development history + character design + world building is interesting, ain’t it?

[fridayfirefly]

Retirement

Read Retirement on AO3

Masterlist

For Maribat March Day 21 - Domestic Bliss

The first time Marinette and Garfield ever discussed retirement was before they even started dating. For superheroes, retirement was just a fact of life. One day, if you make it long enough, you'll put down the suit and you'll never pick it up again. Maybe someone will take your place. Hopefully, no one will need to. But no matter how strong you are, not even if you're Superman in his prime, the simple fact was that someday you would retire.

"What do you think you'll do after you retire?" Marinette mused to Garfield. Out of all the Titans, Marinette spent the most time around Gar, simply because the two of them spent a lot of time in the living room. Marinette liked the ambient noise that his video games provided when she worked on her projects, and Gar liked to have someone to talk to while he played. Most of Marinette's current focus was on the embroidery in her hands, as she stitched vines running down the sleeves of her shirt, but she still took the time to start a conversation with Gar.

"I dunno..." Gar glanced up from the game he was playing. "What'll you do once you give up being Ladybug."

"That's a tough question. I used to think that I wanted to run a big fashion company, like Agreste Fashion, but now I think I want something a little more low-key. In my ideal future, I own a little boutique where I make custom clothing. There would be a fabric store and a café on the same block as me, and I would never have to leave the neighborhood."

"That sounds nice. I think I might try going to college and see where that takes me. I applied to Jump City University right before Christmas, and they accepted me. If I went, I would start classes in the fall.”

Marinette’s head jerked up as she gave Gar her full, undivided attention. “I’m going to JCU next fall!” she exclaimed excitedly. “We might have classes together. What are you planning on majoring in?”

Gar shrugged, “JCU has a veterinary program that I'm interested in. I'd be taking animal behavior, biology, chemistry, and a whole bunch of other science classes.”

“That’s so cool!”

“It’s nothing much. I didn’t expect them to accept me, anyway.”

Gar seemed oddly subdued about the idea of going to college. He was a naturally enthusiastic person, which made it very out of character for him to be so dismissive. It worried Marinette. “No, you deserve praise for your accomplishment. Jump City University is a very selective school.”

“I’m not a genius. I’m just me.”

“You’re smart, Gar, I know you are. Getting accepted to JCU is just one of the many reasons why you are brilliant.”

“Are you gonna name them all for me?” joked Gar.

His question was rhetorical, just a joke, but Marinette wasn't finished convincing Gar that he deserved all the praise in the world. “For starters, you can finish any video game in less than a day. Even the ones where you need logic and strategy, you fly right through them. Secondly, you’re a genius when it comes to animals. And it’s not just because of your superpower. You taught yourself animal behavior so that you could blend in with the animals you’re imitating. Thirdly, you pretend not to be invested in politics, but I’ve seen how you keep yourself informed about environmental policies and activism. You really care about the planet. Fourthly-“

"Alright, Buginette,” laughed Gar, a slight blush on his cheeks. “You’ve proven your point.”

Marinette set her embroidery down on the coffee table and moved to Gar's couch. "Is this game multiplayer?"

"Yep. Do you want to play a few rounds?"

"Hmm... I think I could spare a few minutes to kick your butt."

"Please. I'm going to squash you like the little bug you are."

"You wish!"

----------

The next time Marinette and Gar discussed retirement was well after they started dating. They got together in their Junior year at JCU after spending two years in relationship limbo, with both too nervous to make the first move. They finally confessed their feelings for each other after Dick and Starfire locked them in a closet together until they admitted that they liked each other. They graduated college as a couple, with Gar planning on attending veterinary school and Marinette planning on starting up her fashion business. That summer they spent a lot of time talking about the future.

"I've been thinking of recruiting someone to take over as Ladybug," remarked Marinette as she cuddled up next to Gar on the couch.

"Really? Who do you have your eye on?" asked Gar.

"Wonder Woman recently took on a new protege, Cassie Sandsmark. The Ladybug Miraculous already has some connections to Wonder Woman and her home of Themyscira. Her mother, Queen Hippolyta, was a wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous for quite some time."

"If you gave up the Miraculous would you still fight crime?"

Marinette shook her head. "I think it might be time to give up crimefighting. It's been ten years since I took up the Ladybug Miraculous to fight Hawkmoth, and six years since Hawkmoth was defeated. I wasn't ready to give up that responsibility then, but I think I'm ready now."

"When would you give up the Miraculous?"

"Soon. I talked to Wonder Woman about it last week and she's enthusiastic about the idea. I would need to spend some time getting to know Cassie, just to make sure she's a good fit, and Tikki would need to vet her as well, but I have a good feeling that she'll pass any tests of character we put her through." Marinette turned to face Gar. "I didn't want to make any concrete decisions before I talked to you. I know that we've always fought crime together, but I'm ready to move on with my life. I'm ready to retire."

Gar nodded. "I understand and I fully support your decision. I've been considering leaving the Titans as well. I know I could continue living in the Tower and attend veterinary school at JCU, but last week I got an acceptance letter from UC Davis for their School of Veterinary Medicine."

Marinette's eyes widened. "Gar, that's amazing! I remember looking into UC Davis when you were applying, and their program is nationally ranked."

Gar grinned. "The best in the country. It's too good to pass up."

"You have to go!" exclaimed Marinette. "This is your dream!"

"I think I'll send in my acceptance tomorrow," decided Gar. "Maybe we can go to Davis this weekend and scout out an apartment."

"And fabric stores," chimed in Marinette.

Gar laughed. "Anything for you, Buginette."

----------

The final time Marinette and Gar discussed retirement was years later. Marinette and Gar had gotten married and had moved back to Jump City. Marinette opened her fashion boutique, which had very quickly exploded in popularity. Gar started working for a non-profit veterinary clinic, which provided free veterinary services to lower-income neighborhoods. They had both achieved their dreams, and yet neither seemed content with their lives.

"Maybe we just need a change of scenery," suggested Marinette, leaning her head against Gar as they both sat on the beach watching the sunset. "I'm so tired of the city."

"Maybe," said Gar. "It would be nice to have a house with a backyard, rather than just an apartment."

Marinette sighed. "I know that I always said that I wanted to be the owner of a successful boutique, but this wasn't really what I had in mind. I'm so busy that I feel like I never get to spend any time with you anymore. Every day my inbox is filled with emails asking me to sell my company or expand to more locations. I'm tired of it. My passion is for making clothes, not running a business."

"I know how you feel. Every day I encounter another neglectful pet owner who brings their animal to the clinic for help but refuses to listen to me when I tell them that they need to change the way they treat their animal. It's exhausting."

"We could both just quit our jobs and move into the woods," joked Marinette.

Gar nodded, but he wasn't joking. "I've actually been thinking about that. There are a lot of remote regions with a real need for veterinary practices to provide medical assistance for the farm animals out there. I would feel a lot more useful taking care of animals that don't have anyone else."

Marinette turned to face Gar. "I wouldn't mind moving. I've been sending all of the offers to buy my boutique straight to my email archive, but I'm sure if I looked through them all I could find someone who would be able to take care of the business aspect of Ladybug Designs. I could retire from the business and design on my own time, when the inspiration strikes, instead of forcing myself to churn out design after design."

"You really wouldn't mind?" asked Gar, a hopeful look on his face.

Marinette shook her head. "I was serious about moving out of the city. There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but I've been waiting for the right moment. I think that moment is now. Gar, I'm pregnant."

The deer-in-the-headlights look on Gar's face was comical, to say the least. Marinette giggled, "Well?"

Gar snapped back to reality, transforming into an elephant, trumpeting his joy. He turned back into himself and wrapped his arms around Marinette. "I'm so happy! This is the best news I could have ever heard, Buginette. Now we have to move. I want our kid to have a backyard and a dog and a big driveway where I can teach them how to ride a bike and a pond where they can swim in the summer-"

Marinette cut Gar off with a kiss. "One thing at a time," she giggled.

"I think this will be the best decision we have ever made," declared Gar.

Marinette agreed. "I think that partial retirement will be good for us."

----------

This was bliss. The feeling of grass under Marinette’s bare feet as she walked back to the house from the lake, hand in hand with Gar. The sound of their daughter's laughter as she danced around them, catching fireflies. The taste of homemade apple pie and vanilla ice cream, eaten rebelliously early as Gar proclaimed, "Dessert before dinner!" The sight of the stars up above them, no light pollution to mask the beauty of the heavens. The sound of Gar's voice, whispering, "I love you, Buginette," into Marinette's ear. And as Marinette settled into her husband's arms, she knew for certain that retirement was the best decision she had ever made.

@maribatmarch-2k21

[costellos]

a/n: I’ve been reminiscing on a lot of cheesy romcoms and one of my favorite tropes are “dates that aren’t officially dates but basically are dates.” we love a good yearning. that said, here are some #unofficialofficialdates that the boys use to spend time with you!

tw: mentions of drugs

❥ ┋ ❝ bucci gang & what excuses they use to get closer to you!

bruno bucciarati.

Bucciarati gets closer to you by having you assist him at “fundraisers.” 

Passione holds a handful of events throughout the year. elaborate parties with expensive champagne, mindless chatter, and some very high-profile attendees. people will join to officialize deals, buy drugs, and of course, donate to keep Passione thriving.

Bucciarati usually goes alone, acting as a representative for his escort team. this isn’t the type of scene you’d see the others at. but up until your joining, you’ve found yourself as his sole companion.

it began as a way to familiarize yourself with mobster life. his idea, of course. although he didn’t push the idea, he’d be lying if he said he hoped you would accept. ↳ “it’s not required, but the company would be nice.”

it’s an odd affair. celebrities and politicians join and no one blinks an eye. it’s not where you’d usually find yourself on a Saturday night, with you and your partner dressed to the nines (okay, maybe not a usual scene for you; Bucciarati always had something beautiful draped onto his figure).

the hors d'oeuvres and cocktails are nice, at least. but you find yourself drawn to your conversations with Bucciarati the most.

he makes you feel welcome at every event, that you deserve to be here as much as the starlet making her grand appearance. you’re unsure that you can handle business with new clients, but the way he talks to you is so reassuring and supportive that you quickly help the gang obtain new patrons.

you can’t help but notice that his speech became more casual after the first outing. he’s a fan of crude jokes and local gossip, you find. but you also notice the hand at your hip as he guides you to every following fundraiser. if you look at him while he he does so, he’d send a the kindest grin. ↳ “see? you’re a natural. we need to work on your eye contact, though. clients respond better when they see those pretty eyes look back at them.”

that shameless flirtation came out after your fifth fundraiser. by that point, Bucciarati made less of an effort to hide his attraction toward you. all the other patrons thought you to be a couple. why not play the part? besides, he finds your embarrassment endearing. cute, even. he’s already planning ways to make this night last longer.

leone abbacchio.

Abbacchio gets closer to you by helping you get ready for your missions.

you’re typically the first choice for espionage missions. the way you slip into parties, meetings, anything without anyone noticing is impressive, to say the least. but only part of that is thanks to your own abilities. Abbacchio does a lot of the heavy lifting behind the scenes.

it started when he noticed your god awful attempt at masquerade makeup. your contouring left much to be desired. ↳ “...please don’t tell me you’re actually going out like that.”

and so began a tradition of sorts. you usually meet him at his apartment, considering that’s where all his tools are. it was awkward at first; Abbacchio isn’t the best conversationalist, but he did try to seem somewhat engaged in whatever you had to say.

with time, however, it became easier. less awkward. Abbacchio shares whatever wine (and gossip) he has at his disposal that week. you find that his humor can be quite dry once you melt through that icy exterior. and with more time, you start to notice the tiniest smiles when you pop by.

he’s also less fussy when you ask him to do your makeup. before he would roll his eyes and ask when you were next available, but now... he just says to come by that Friday night. not without some minor teasing, though you found that to be a part of his charm. (plus, the fact you were breaking through to him was exciting in itself.)

he’s incredibly gentle when he does your makeup. he always holds your chin as he dabs liquid foundation onto your face, his hand moving your head for those hard-to-reach areas. when he does your eyeshadow, you can feel that same hand cup your cheek to keep you steady. though intimate, it’s not uncomfortable.

whenever he caught you staring at him, Abbacchio would ask what you were looking at. recently, however, you’ve noticed he merely purses his lips, swallows, and looks away. ↳ “huh. would’ve never known you could look so stunning. you’re welcome.”

his rude teasing made its appearance after eight visits. it’s an awful attempt to deny his feelings. maybe you’ll back off if he’s mean enough. but the way you smile at him after every session, how you shamelessly compliment him... he can’t help himself. he has to get closer to you in any way that he can.

giorno giovanna.

Giorno gets closer to you by asking you to help him with his hair.

you’d often watch girls fawn over Giorno whenever you went on patrols with him. and it’s warranted: his chiseled cheekbones, long lashes, and defined physique had him rival the Roman statues that lined Naples. everything about him is a piece of art. including his hair. 

you caught him struggling to braid his hair shortly before your next patrol. strands would be thicker than others, and in one case, you watched as his hair tie snapped between his fingers. he obviously needed help. ↳ “well, if you’re offering. be my guest.”

so you got to work. it wasn’t a big deal; part of the issue was that Giorno couldn’t see the back of his head. you separated his hair into three strands, weaved them between each other, and tied the ends of his hair into a loop. just as you’d always seen him do it.

but once you finished, Giorno was hooked. the way your fingernails dragged along his scalp, how you were so careful to not pull his hair... it was wonderful. such a small action that felt so personal to him.

he asks you to help him with his hair whenever he can. not too frequently that you’d catch on, though. and he knows you well enough to know you wouldn’t deny his request. you’re far too kind. it’s a little manipulative on his end, but he’s also aware that you wouldn’t mind.

it never feels awkward. he asks you about your day while you work. sometimes he gives you a briefing about what’s on the agenda. though it seems casual on your end, as mentioned, Giorno finds the experience quite intimate. ↳ “I don’t know what it is, but something about your touch is enough to make me feel so relaxed. ...ah, excuse me. was that too forward?”

that statement comes out after you’ve braided Giorno’s hair ten times. by that point, you’ve started to think that he doesn’t really need help with his hair. the fact that he’s started producing flowers to put in your own hair was a dead giveaway. but can you blame him? he loves seeing you blush as he tucks daisies behind your ear.

guido mista.

Mista gets closer to you by showing you his favorite quick eats.

as a long-standing resident of Naples, the gunslinger is aware of all the best restaurants in the city. from hole-in-the walls to elegant restaurants, he knows ‘em all. he has a particular soft spot for the former.

you’re the opposite of him: new to Naples and unaware of what foods await you. Mista takes it upon himself to change that. ↳ “you’ve never heard of Sorbillo and you’ve been living here for how long? ...alright, well. we’re gonna change that. you and me, Sorbillo, this Saturday.”

and thus a new tradition began. whenever you and Mista had a free Saturday night, you’d meet at whatever restaurant he recommended that week. sometimes it was seafood, other nights it was pizza, but it was always something extremely delicious (and extremely unforgettable).

he caters his choices to what you’re in the mood for. Mista’s not a picky eater by any means (so long as it’s not in fours), so he’s down for whatever you want. plus, it lets him get to know your tastes a little better.

he’s a great conversationalist. he can keep you distracted from long lines and longer food prep times. you never get the impression that he’s just making small talk, because honestly, he’s not. he genuinely wants to get to know you better. he usually asks about your life before Passione. 

your weekly outings originally started as a fun hangout between two friends. but during one chilly night, Mista was quick to notice your shivering. he wasted no time in giving you his coat and hat. ↳ “hey, you don’t ever get... I dunno... bored of this, do you? I know we’ve been doing this for a while and... if you ever wanna stop, you can let me know.”

that question came up after your seventh outing. you’d never seen the gunslinger get embarrassed like this. it only comes up because Mista’s realizing how much he loves being around you. he loves when your eyes widen as you take that first bite, he loves when muse how good the food is. he needs to know where you stand before he gets too invested because honestly, he’s starting to love you as well.

narancia ghirga.

Narancia gets closer to you by asking you to help him read. 

Fugo’s not the best tutor. bless him, he tries, but Narancia isn’t the best student either. the latter often spaces out while working. and when he doesn’t, he tries to distract Fugo with some meaningless chatter to end the session sooner. Fugo was quick to catch onto this.

as a result, he turned to you to tutor Narancia. it started as a joke. “if [Name] can’t do it, no one can,” he laughed. the pupil, however, was more than happy to switch tutors. ↳ “fine! [Name]’ll be a better teacher than you ever were!!”

and like that, you were Narancia’s new tutor. not that you minded. it would benefit the whole team if he could read above a primary school level. every Tuesday and Thursday, an hour before the gang’s meetings at Libeccio, you and Narancia would grab a table and go over his reading material. sometimes Fugo joins to watch Narancia’s progress, sometimes Mista to hang out and enjoy a slice of cake, but it’s normally a one-on-one lesson.

Narancia quickly realizes that he likes those lessons best. it’s much easier when the others aren’t teasing him for his inability to read words like “signorile.” plus, he likes his time alone with you. you don’t laugh. you never judge him. if he has a question, he doesn’t feel stupid to come to you about it, even outside of tutoring sessions.

he’s still distracted when he’s with you, but half the time it’s intentional, half the time it’s not. he just wants to learn more about you. he’ll take breaks between questions to ask you about yourself. Narancia usually sticks to questions regarding your hobbies and interests. lord help you if you share the same music taste because he’ll want to share all his favorite tunes with you.

lately he’s been quite diligent with his work. he’ll go a chapter ahead of what you’ve scheduled and... oh my, are those annotations? you’d never seen him smile brighter than when you praised him for his hard work. ↳ “what are we gonna do once my reading is like... really good? we’re not just gonna stop, are we?”

he asks you this after your fourth session. the question came up rather early, honestly. but Narancia was already having a lot of fun after working with you. he knew that this was going to be something worth his time. and when he saw your own smile, he knew that you were worth everything, too. 

pannacotta fugo.

Fugo gets closer to you by requesting your help planning missions.

most of the gang’s missions are planned by Fugo himself. while he is a college dropout, he still spent hundreds of hours studying Italian history and law. he can be trusted to help the escort team avoid law enforcement.

but there was one job he couldn’t wrap his head around. it was a breaking-and-entering mission meant for Bucciarati and Narancia. they were supposed to cross through an Armani outlet, yet... the security was fool proof. there was no way to cleanly get through it, even with Bucciarati’s Sticky Fingers. that was when you came in and proved him wrong. ↳ “[Name], would you mind helping me with this next mission? it’s a reconnaissance job for Abbacchio.”

he started coming to you whenever he felt stuck. you’re one of the few people he trusts with a task as important as this one. besides, you’d already proved that you were more than capable to untangle tough situations.

working with you is a mixed bag, though. sure, you help Fugo resolve his questions, but you make him feel so... small. it’s not that you do it on purpose. it’s just that being smart is all that he has. it’s all he’s ever known. and here you come, making these problems seem like they were nothing.

yet he can’t get enough of you. you don’t make it seem like these things are a big deal. he loves when you place your hand on his arm and praise him when he figures it out himself. god, he hates that he can’t look you in the eye; he can only imagine how lovely you look when you’re glowing.

there’s one moment that will stick with you forever. it was an infiltration mission meant for the whole team, the eleventh job you’d worked on with him. it took hours of back-and-forth bantering, Fugo having to leave the room to go scream outside, and one of Narancia’s awful energy drinks until Fugo figured it out. and when he did, you’ll never forget how he was beaming, his fingers laced with yours as he thanked you for your help. it’s too bad it didn’t last that long, for he quickly became embarrassed and turned away. ↳ “[Name]! I have another mission to work on with you! when are you free?”

Fugo saw you as his planning partner after that occurrence. he came to you with every mission he received; after all, he needs you to make sure that there aren’t any holes. he wants to chase every high he can with you. hell, every low if you’ll let him. he wants to do everything and more with you.

[billiewena]

for the 100k fic celebration, here a portion of the “what if 10x05 had a sastiel agenda?” AKA lil shit sam/jealous dean destiel fic I first shared a while back! been having a lot of fun basically rewriting and expanding on the entire musical episode with new songs (and lots of cute kristen & siobhan moments because OF COURSE they’re still a couple.) it was really encouraging to see the positive response to it back then and it's been taking forever because of work/other writing but I’m so excited to have this one be the first full-length fics I ever post.

It starts with costumed teenagers locked in a tight embrace with absolutely no room for Jesus.

“What are they doing?”

Marie glances over her shoulder for only a brief second.

“Kids these days call it hugging,” she says slowly. Geez, it would’ve been less insulting for her to just outright say Wow, you’re old.

Except it’s not just any of the show’s stars hugging over there. One of them is the “Dean” who’d been mid-rehearsal when they arrived and looked more like Bieber than him with the blonde wig. And the other? Well, he would recognize that Columbo coat anywhere.

“Is that in the show?” he asks, pointing their way.

Marie quickly shakes her head at the accusation. “Oh, no. Siobhan and Kristen are a couple in a real life.”

He nods and lower his hand. Got it. That’s all it was. Everything’s fine. Nothing to worry about—

“No, my play explores the nature of Sastiel.”

“The — wait, what?” he says, confused at once.

“Sastiel?” Marie pauses, giving him a second to figure it out. He doesn’t. “You know, the relationship between Sam and Castiel?”

Dean blinks.

“Sam and…C-Cas?”

“I know, I know. Edlund’s series never finished. I’m lucky I got these drafts. Ugh, it’s Midnight Sun all over again. But the love story is all in the subtext,” she says with confidence. “Can you believe there are people who still think Destiel is endgame? After everything that happened after the angels fell? After Gadreel? Please.”

He silently sounds out the word. Des-tiel? Wait…

“Ever since Cas came back from the dead and took on Sam’s pain, I knew. I just knew. Every one of their arcs had been parallel to each other’s from their fall from grace to the trials. And now with Dean gone, all they have…is each other.”

Marie sighs. “Besides, you can’t spell subtext without S-E-X.”

He coughs and nearly chokes on an asteroid-sized lump in his throat.

“I…uh. Yeah, th-that’s not…you know, I think I’ve seen enough,” Dean says with a forced smile. “Thank you for your, ah, time. I’ll, uh, we’ll follow up if we have questions about the missing persons case. I—alright.”

And with that he purses his lips, turns on his heel and walks away — nearly tripping over one of the stage chords as he does. Why are there are so many of them anyways? This is just some all-girls school production, not the goddamn West End.

He finds Sam in his natural nerd habitat (the tech booth) sifting through all the bins of A/V supplies.

“Yeah, not to interrupt the blast from the past here but it’s time for us to go,” he says, patting the door.

His brother shoots him an annoyed look but packs up and follows him out all the same. Not that Dean bothers to wait for him; no, he makes a beeline for the car as soon as he leaves the booth.

“Hey, what’s with the rush?” Sam calls after him as he runs to catch up with him at the school entrance.

“No rush,” he says shortly. “Just wanted to see what you found out before you got too lost in the nerd sauce over there.”

He doesn’t need to look back to know he’s on the receiving end of a Classic Sam Bitchface right now and continues to stomp his way through the parking lot.

“Well, no EMF, no hex bags. None of their props are remotely hinky. Talked to Maeve and all those extras in the auditorium.” Sam finally catches up and walks side-by-side with him now. “You have any more luck?”

“Nah. Ms. Chandler's office is just a pile of empty bottles and regret. She's probably just face down in a bar somewhere. Or a ditch. I did get to hear all about the director’s, ah, creative vision though,” Dean says, teeth gritted. “Apparently we go into space, I become a woman, and there’s even ninjas and robots!”

“Robots. Huh. Well, that’d definitely be a new one.”

“There’s no robots in Supernatural—”

“I-I know that,” Sam says in exasperation. “I just mean it’s, y’know, innovative. And Dean we’ve fought weirder. Remember the teddy bear? The fairies? The ballet shoes?”

“Well, you just wait until you hear about what she in store for you, Lover Boy,” he says.

And that makes Sam do an instant double-take.

“Uh, Lover Boy?”

“Yeah, your number one fan back there —” he says, gesturing back towards the school, “— was telling me all about the play’s, uh, love story between you and Cas. You got something you’ve been meaning to tell me or what?”

“The love story? Wait, what do you mean me and Cas?”

Dean scoffs, already in utter disbelief of the words he was about to say. “Like you and Cas, together. Together together? Romance of the ages the way she made it sound. Apparently it’s all in her play!”

To his surprise though, Sam just… laughs. “Well, I mean hey, that’s an improvement from the ones who wrote about me and you.”

“You got that right,” he agrees with a shudder. Meeting one Becky the Stalker was bad enough. Knowing she wasn’t alone and that she had an audience made it even worse. “She even had a portmanteau for you, dude. Like you’re some celebrities in a grocery store tabloid. Sass-tiel.”

“Sass-tiel?” He seems to seriously consider it but shrugs. “I don’t know. What about… Samstiel? CasSam? Cam? Mmm, maybe not that…”

Dean groans. “Really? That’s your issue with this?”

“Of course it’s not my issue,” Sam says. He stays pensive for a few more seconds until chuckling again to himself this time, as if he’s the only one in on a private joke. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Cas is great but…”

“Not your type?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam says. No, it’s definitely more than that and he’s doing a piss-poor job of hiding his amused expression.

Dean turns and stares him down. “What?”

“I dunno,” he says, his smirk fully visible now. “I just think it’s funny they’re pairing me up with Cas when the one with the ‘profound bond’ with him is right there.”

“Oh, haha. You’re hilarious,” Dean retorts at once.

“Hey man, I’m not the one who stayed in Purgatory for a year to find him.”

His glare takes on a murderous edge.

“Okay. You know what? You’re going to do that thing where you just shut the hell up! Forever!”

Sam holds up his hands in either what’s either a show of innocence or surrender.

“Alright, alright. Well, other than the Charlie Kaufman of it all I got nothing.”

“So…what?” Dean says. “This-this all... This whole musical thing, everything, it's... it's all a coincidence? There is no case?”

“Unless you're seeing something I'm not, no, Dean. There's no case here,” he says sincerely this time.

“Come on. This has classic Trickster vibes all over it.” He almost wants to turn around and start yelling, Come on out Gabriel you bastard!

“Trickster’s dead, man. And he wasn’t just a trickster, he was an archangel. And they’re all gone too.”

“Could be a lower-rank angel?” Dean tries. “I mean, Zachariah pulled off an entire apocalypse world. And that place where we were both corporate drones. Before you know it, this’ll get all Buffy and it’ll be me and you singin’ and dancin’—“

“Dean…I think it’s just fans. Look, as long as they’re not putting another love spell on one of us I couldn’t really care less what they’re doing,” Sam says with some bitterness, clearly not looking back at that particular memory with any fondness. “Just writing some songs? I mean, it’s innocent enough.”

“Oh yeah, so innocent,” he scoffs. “They’re singing about our dead parents, your demon blood bender, the apocalypse, all of it! This is just…it’s make-believe for them! But it’s our lives!”

Sam runs a tired hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t get it either man. I wasn’t exactly thinking about the books’ entertainment value while Chuck was describing my sex life in vivid detail—“

“Don’t remind me,” he says, holding up a hand in disgust.  

“—but I dunno. There’s obviously something about it they connected to, right? Something they related to, something that moved them, inspired them? And I guess…I mean, what’s wrong with that?”

There is so, so much wrong with that.

“I don’t know what story they’re reading and what Sam and Dean they’re ‘connecting’ to here. But it sure as hell ain’t us. I mean…they even made me blonde, dude.”

“It’s a high school play, what can you expect?” Sam laughs. “It was probably the closest wig they could find at Party City.”

Dean ignores him, muttering aloud as he makes his way to the driver’s seat.

“The hair…the singing…the robots… the love story…”

“You really were bothered by that, weren’t you?” Sam gives his brother a curious look.

“SUPERNATURAL ISN’T A ROMANCE!” Dean snaps. “Look, these girls obviously don’t know what they’re talking about—“

“I dunno, Dean,” Sam said in a clearly taunting voice now. “Maybe you’re just jealous of what me and Cas have.”

He flushes. “W-what? I-I’m not—“

“We could give you two a name too, y’know? So you don’t feel left out? What about…Dee-stiel? CasDean?”

And he refuses to entertain this conversation any longer.

“Shut your face! Get in the car!”

Thankfully Sam notices the shift in tone and obliges at once.

Dean, meanwhile, takes a moment outside the car to glance around — almost as if checking to see if anyone overheard that comment. Not that it mattered. Who could overhear? No one even knew they were THE Sam and THE Dean. Who cared? He certainly didn’t care. He didn’t care at all...

(to be continued)

[bbrandy2002]

Fearless

Chapter 2: Take My Hand And Drag Me Headfirst

Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairing: Prince/King Liam x MC (Riley Brooks), Drake Walker x OC (Alyssa Devereaux)

Series Premise: Riley Brooks and Alyssa Devereaux became best friends as freshmen at Syracuse University, a borderline-sisterhood that lasts forever after. When Riley meets a handsome prince and is asked to compete for his hand in a mysterious faraway kingdom, she invites Alyssa along for moral support.

What the girls think will be a crazy temporary adventure becomes two sets of happily ever afters … with twice the shenanigans to show for it.

A/N: This series is written in loving collaboration between @bbrandy2002 and @burnsoslow​.

Series Warnings: Smut 🍋🍋, language, canon violence (gun violence, bombing, terrorism), drug use, probably more stuff as we think of it. By reading this series, you agree that you are at least 18 years old and are prepared to deal with adult themes.

Thank you @burnsoslow​ for the beta and putting some of your magical finishing touches where needed.

Chapter 3 will be written by @burnsoslow​ ,  I’m so excited for that!!

___________________________

Propped against the railing of the rear deck of a small tugboat in the middle of the Hudson River, the warmth of Liam’s arms wrapped around her from behind, Riley thought back to the words Daniel spoke to her earlier about fairytales and happy endings. Maybe it was the hope in his voice she needed to hear during a vulnerable moment to lift her spirits, but she was really starting to believe them herself.

The newly fired, down-on-her-luck Riley Brooks had left the Tapped Out Bar with a mysterious man that she plowed over during an escape from rats while taking out the garbage. A little while later, she accidentally attacked him again in the alleyway of her former employment with her sad little stick. They struck up a conversation, and through some awkward stalling on his part, he finally worked up the nerve to ask her out for a drink. 

Riley wasn’t someone who normally took off with random guys she just met to flit about the city, but there was just something about Liam that was different -- that was special. 

Call it intuition. An inclination. Instinct or inkling. Whatever it was, was a possibility. Of what? That remained to be seen. 

After talking to his friends about his plans, and at her behest, the pair headed west on foot until they reached a busy late-night cafe that overlooked the choppy waters of the New York harbor. Sitting on the open deck, moonlight cascading off the ripples of the sea, a light jazz tune playing through the outdoor speakers, they talked for over an hour about everything and nothing, while sipping coffee and plucking at a large cinnamon roll they shared. It was the most Riley had spoken in a long time. When you live with and are friends with the more outgoing Alyssa, you learn to appreciate the fine art of listening. She spoke about her dads, her friends, places she traveled to and what not. All very light, casual conversation. Liam mentioned he had family, his country of origin, how much he was enjoying New York, but never revealed too much.

Not wanting to sound too whiny and pathetic, she stuck with the positive things in her life; she surprised even herself that there were a lot more than she realized. But he captivated her in a real way that made it so easy. Liam laughed with her and made her feel interesting and personable; maybe even desired.

And as the night carried on and the patrons of the cafe dwindled down, a Miles Davis tune began to play: “Blue and Green.” A bright smile tugged on the corner of Liam’s lips as he pushed his chair back and rose from the table to offer his hand. “My lady.”

Riley looked around the deck to see if anyone else was dancing -- they weren’t -- but how could she say no? 

She didn’t want to say no.

Beside their little round table and under a string of hanging white pearly lights and garland, they slowly swayed together like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was chemistry in motion with every soft blare of the trumpet, rhythmic taps on the snare drum, and light pitter pats on a piano played in G major. The tempo was leisurely and elegant, creating the perfect ambience for the feelings that were stirring within them.

With her head resting snugly against his firm chest, the thrumming of his steadily-beating heart reverberating in her ear, Liam revealed, “I’m the Crown Prince of Cordonia, Riley.”

Never breaking their stride, Liam lifted one of her tiny arms in the air and twirled her around gracefully. Riley smiled up at him as they returned to formation; their hands intertwined between them. “And I’m one of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

Liam laughed as they continued their gentle side-to-side movements. “I know it sounds crazy, but I’m not lying to you. Perhaps I should have been a little more upfront with you from the beginning, but I’m normally not allowed to go out without the Royal Guard.” He paused for a moment to lower her into a deep dip, sensually inhaling the perfumed scent around her decolletage, before pulling her back into his arms. “And I was only allowed out on the condition that I kept my identity a secret. But, just for one day … I wanted to be free.”

It was one of the most romantic nights Riley had ever experienced in her life, but as the music continued to play, their steps gliding in sync, she nuzzled her cheek against his firm body and responded, “You’re so full of shit.”

Liam pulled away, amused by her choice of words and disbelief. “After I told you all of that, you still think I’m lying?”

Riley shrugged. “I dunno.” She casually pulled out her chair under his watchful eye and sat down, crossing her legs. Lifting a coffee mug to her lips, she winced at its cold temperature, and the fact that she hated coffee. “So, I’m not really into the whole role-playing thing, but if you’re gonna be this ... Prince of Condomania, how about if I play the sultry villainess spy who comes to steal the treasures from your castle and you catch me in the act?” She batted her eyelashes and splayed her hands across her chest. “I will neva surrenda, Prince Liam. If you wont me, you’ll haf to take me right heya.” Riley animatedly flung her arms out and arched back over her chair.

Liam knit his brow. “What the hell kind of accent is that?”

Riley sat up and smiled proudly. “It’s Cajun. I have this friend and I really like how he talks; it’s so sexy. Do you think it sounded convincing at all? Maybe a little too nasally? You want me to try to do your accent next?”

With a grin, Liam shook his head and took the seat across from her. “You’re something else, you know that?”

She sighed. “That’s what they tell me.”

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Riley watched curiously as Liam pulled out his phone and began typing something on it. He held it out to her. “I want you to look at this, Cajun Villainess Spy. Tell me what you think?”

“Oh God, you’re gonna show me a dick pic, aren’t you?” Riley slammed her eyes shut as she reluctantly reached for his cell, but sort of peeked out one eye.  

“Eh, no. That’s never really been my style.” He gestured insistently for her to look at the screen as he sat back and crossed his arms. “I think you’ll find everything you want to know about me right there.”

It only took her a second to study the images and gloss over the text he pulled up, but a satisfied smirk formed on Liam’s charmed features while watching her eyes grow larger. Riley jumped up from her chair, the momentum causing it to tip over. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a real prince?” 

Liam guffawed, “I did!”

“No, you didn’t! You had I’m joking written all over your face. How was I supposed to know your serious face and your joke face look the same?” She tossed the phone back to him like it was molten iron scorching her palm. “I’d rather have the dick pic.” 

After picking up her tipped-over chair and getting settled again, she took a moment to just process the identity of the man she had spent the last couple of hours talking and dancing with. Her real-life Prince Charming. This incredibly sweet, hot guy sipping coffee in front of her was part of a royal family, and she was an unemployed everything. What on earth possessed him to want to spend time with the likes of her?  

She looked up from her fidgeting fingers that were picking at the green fabric covering her thighs and smiled softly at him. “I’m sorry I overreacted. It’s just …”

“A lot to learn about someone? No, no, I get it. I probably would have had the same reaction if I were you.”

“So ... what happens now?”

What happened next was what led them to the boat they were on for an impromptu midnight ride to see the Statue of Liberty.

Liam laid out the details of his situation: He was a prince visiting New York City with his friends who were throwing him a last-minute bachelor party. Riley listened attentively while he explained his upcoming social season: not knowing yet who he was going to marry, but that duty required him to take a wife by the end of the year. He had hoped while he was in the city to visit its most famous statue; however, his friends hadn’t planned for it. Riley heard the disappointment in his voice and it tugged at her heart.

It was definitely too late to catch one of the many tours that traveled to Ellis Island during the day, but Riley was determined to do what she could to make it happen for him. Part of her was motivated by the fact that she liked him a lot and enjoyed his company; he was charming and refined, different from anyone she’d ever met. The longer she got to spend with Liam and got to know him, the better. But there was also this other part that felt sorry for him. Riley could see the struggle in his eyes and the weight on his shoulders between what he wanted to do, and what his position forced his hand to do. In her mind it was clear that Liam was the kind of guy who got everything -- except what he wanted.

In some ways, she knew the feeling.

To Liam’s surprise, Riley assured him she would find a way for him to see that statue. So, while he paid the tab, her mind raced with how the hell she was going to pull this off. And just before the actual possibility of having to hijack a vessel began to fully take shape in her mind, she pulled out her phone in one last-ditch effort to not break the law. Riley knew no one who owned a boat, but there was one person in her life that seemingly had a connection to everyone in the damn city.

Riley bit at her fingernails as the phone rang, glancing over her shoulder once to watch Liam paying the cashier. “Come on, come on. Pick up. Pick up.”

“Heyyyy!”

“Alyssa,” Riley whispered in an urgent tone into the phone, unclear whether her friend would even hear her over the party music and raucous chatter that was blaring in the background. “I need your help with something.”

“Riiiiley!” she slurred. “My bestie. My sister from another parents. I love you soooo much. More than everyone in the whole wide ... something. Hey, guys! Riley’s on the phone; say hi to her!” 

“Wait, Lyss! No.”

A loud chorus of drunken greetings could be heard through the receiver as Alyssa held it up in the air.

“Alyssa!” Riley repeated in frustration while listening to her best friend start another conversation with a partygoer about the perfect symmetrical shape of the cheese cube she just ate. Apparently, it looked like a “tiny little house, for teeny, tiny little cheese people.”

Riley smacked her forehead. “Alyssa!” 

Liam returned from paying the bill, his hands stuffed in his pockets and bouncing on his heels. He raised his eyebrows at Riley as if asking eagerly whether she was ready to head out on this adventure she told him she would make possible. Riley smiled back and raised a finger, indicating she’d be ready in a moment. Panic started to set in as she cursed under her breath and continued to try to get her friend back on the call. “Lyss.”

“Riley,” Alyssa laughed. “You’re still on the phone? No way! Hey, guys! Riley’s still on the phone. Say ‘hey’ to her!”

“NOO! Please, Alyssa, I need your help.”

“Whatcha need, Ri? You know I’ll do aaaanything for you.”

“Ok, do you remember when you caught our dorm room on fire senior year cooking ramen noodles in the microwave, and all my stuff burned up?”

“That checks. Sure.”

“Well, it’s time to pay up on that favor you said you’d owe me.”

Somehow, the planets must have been aligned just right, because a very inebriated Alyssa comprehended Riley’s request enough to talk to Damien about it and have it actually make sense. Luckily, the private detective knew a guy who drove a tugboat for the Port Authority working the night shift and was more than willing to see what he could do for Alyssa’s best friend.

-----------

Riley felt Liam’s arms tighten around her waist as the Statue of Liberty came into view. She had seen the landmark more times than she could remember in her life; perhaps she had become so accustomed to it being there that she took for granted how it would affect someone seeing it for the first time. It wasn’t until she twisted around in his arms to view his reaction, to see this beacon of freedom reflecting in his mesmerized eyes, that it all made sense. Liam was a beautiful man with a beautiful soul; if anyone deserved this moment to reflect on what it truly meant to embrace the freedom he longed for, it was him.

“What are you thinking, Liam?” She broke the silence.

He shook his head in wonderment. “It’s magnificent, Riley. I’ve heard art has meaning because of what it makes the viewer feel. Whether it’s ink splatters on a canvas or on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, it only matters if it moves you.”

“And?” 

Liam let out a sigh of contentment and lowered his gaze to her. “And right now, looking at this view with you … I feel like … anything is possible.”

“I feel that way too.” She slowly nodded, finding herself lost in his eyes, his voice, his embrace. Nothing in this moment mattered to her anymore: the long stream of bad luck, the crappy job she just lost, her epic failures at relationships. They all seemed to just wistfully fly out into the ocean and bury themselves below its sandy bottom. 

Wrapped in each other's arms, surrounded by the salty sea air and a skyline full of hopes and dreams, Liam pulled her as close to himself as she would go, his other hand moving up to caress the side of her face. Both searched longingly into each other's eyes, waiting for the other to make that next big move. 

Feeling an awakening of courage and fire in the depths of her fluttering stomach, she threw all fears and caution to the wind. Riley grasped on to the lapels of Liam’s jacket and gently lowered him to her eagerly awaiting lips.

The kiss was tender and brief, but magical; it left her spellbound. Riley could swear she floated out of her body and traveled into the clouds that blanketed above them and enveloped her wholly.

Liam rested his forehead on Riley’s; his hands reached down to grasp hers and swing freely alongside them. “You’re full of surprises tonight, Riley.”

“Is that before or after I knocked you out earlier?”

He chucked, rubbing the bump on the back of his head. “Both times. I’m certainly not sorry about either, though. I’ll never forget this night … or you.”

If you have a concussion, you might. She smiled up at him, “Me either.”

As their boat rounded the island, Riley took one last glance back at the statue that now represented so much more in her mind. Her gaze traveled across the expanse of the gleaming torch, down the long arm of the statue, over to the dim lights shining through the glass within the crown. Something caught her attention -- an odd movement -- and she couldn’t help but squint real hard to make out the image that was quite small from her vantage point. She tilted her head, trying to figure out what the hell she was seeing before it finally became clearer to her. She let out a loud gasp. “Oh my God!”

From behind, Liam leaned down next to her face. “What’s wrong?” he asked curiously, trying to match his view with her line of sight. “What are you seeing?”

Riley pointed up. “I see ass cheeks!” she replied in disgust. “And not just any ass cheeks … big, gigantic ones smooshed right up against the window. There’s two people up there just going at it and … oh, no wait, she just got turned around. Yep, yep, those look like boobies now. Who does that kind of thing, having sex where anyone could just see? And in the Statue of Liberty, of all places?”

Letting out a forced cough then clearing his throat, Liam squeezed Riley’s shoulders several times and laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, I know. Sick freaks, huh?”

The pair watched the display for a second longer than they should have before turning to look at one another, blushing and smiling sheepishly. Riley only hoped she played off her disgust well enough that he didn’t realize she was a sick freak too.

Liam looked away, hoping the same.

---------

It was well past midnight.The Brooklyn streets were mostly bare, with only the occasional late-night dweller cruising the sidewalks or a yellow cab making its weekend rounds. Just a stone's throw across the bridge, the city that never slept, with its flashing lights and bustling tourist, lay in deep contrast to this quiet residential district that was only lit up at that hour by street lamps and halogen headlights.

Riley considered where she lived to be a fairly safe neighborhood. Crime and lawlessness weren’t unheard of, but it was rare for that area. Like many women of her young age, walking alone in the dark wasn’t something she usually set out to do unless she had no other choice. That’s why when Liam insisted he accompany her the few blocks from where they finished their excursion to see her home safely, she was more than willing to oblige him.

“This is my stop. Home sweet home.” Riley stopped at the bottom of the stairs that led to the entrance of her building and turned to Liam. She looked more gleeful than she actually was.

He glanced up at the plain red brick building. It was nothing special, but he made a mental note of the address numbers over its clear glass entryway. He knew it was unlikely he’d ever see her again, but on the off-chance, maybe someday if he was ever in the neighborhood … no, he thought … there’s no point in going there. “I see that ...it’s nice.”

Riley looked at him with a hopeful expression. “I know you said you had an early flight in the morning, but … if you’d like to come up …”

“I wish I could, Riley. Trust me, I want to more than you know; however, the limo will be here soon with my friends, and ...” he swept a strand of blowing hair from her face, memorizing her every feature. “... I don’t want to make this harder on either one of us.”

Nodding, Riley gave a half-smile. “I understand.”

They stared at one another for a moment, hoping to prolong the inevitable. “Come here, you.” Liam pulled her into him and wrapped his arms around her. ”I can never thank you enough for everything tonight, Riley. I’m so glad I ran into you. Well ... actually you ran into me.” Riley let out a soft laugh that made his heart skip a beat. “You were the best part of my trip, Riley. I mean it.”

Before they knew it, the limo pulled up alongside the sidewalk in front of Riley’s apartment. Both felt a sinking feeling, knowing this was the end, and embraced a little tighter as the squeak of the limo’s brakes dulled and the awaiting engine ran in the silent backdrop.

Riley drew in a breath, the heels of her shoes tapping one another. “I guess this is goodbye?”

Frowning, Liam’s palms moved up to her face and rested along her jawline. “I’m afraid it looks that way.” He leaned down and kissed her gently, her arms winding around the back of his neck to hold him there for as long as she possibly could.

Knowing if he didn’t end it there, it never would, Liam broke their kiss, stroking his hand through her hair and said, “Take care, Riley.”

She smiled back. “You too, Liam.”

Not wanting to leave until he was sure she made it inside safely, Liam watched from the sidewalk while Riley slowly made her way up the concrete steps, scouring through her bag as she did so. When she reached the top, she stepped in front of the locked door, frantically digging and shaking her bag in search of the keys to get in. 

“Everything okay up there?” Liam called up to her as she knelt down and started frantically tossing items from her purse, slamming them down next to her feet: wallet, cell phone, lip gloss, ink pens, breath mints, hand sanitizer, a half-eaten bag of skittles, a box cutter she didn’t know she had, a marshmallow bunny from Easter, Midol, tampons …

“Mother fuck,” she grumbled in frustration to herself before yelling back cheerfully, “Yes, just looking for my keys. They’re always at the bottom,” she laughed, trying to make light of it. 

“They’re in your hand, Riley,” she heard him point out when she finally gazed down into her hand and slowly opened her palm. Liam let out a laugh when he saw her face twist up, realizing she had them the entire time. 

“Get out of here. You said you didn’t want to make this harder.” Riley began stuffing everything back into her bag.

He continued to laugh as he threw his hands up and stepped away. “I’m going.”

As soon as she unlocked the door and walked inside to the lit-up entryway, she heard the limo pull away. Everything in her wanted to look back in hopes he’d stayed behind by some chance and was walking up those steps, approaching the door, wanting her to let him in. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath; the greatest guy she’d ever met was gone, and the only way to see him again would require a Google search. 

In her mind, though, she had made a prince’s dream come true. Maybe she wasn’t half bad after all.

In a huge way, Liam did the same for her. Too bad he would never know it.

___________

Riley opened the door and stepped inside her dark apartment, closing it behind her. After such a long day, feeling a little disheartened, all she wanted to do was slip into some comfy night clothes, wash her face, brush her teeth and crash until next week. Taking two steps away from the door, her foot caught on something and she went flying forward, landing with a hard thud to the floor. 

It felt like the wind had been knocked right out of her chest when she hit the ground. “Son-of-a--?” She pushed herself up on her knees, shook out her sore hands, then reached over to flip the light switch on.

“Alyssa?” Riley whispered.

Lying on the ground, curled into a peaceful little ball, was her roommate, still in the same clothes she last saw her in, hands pressed together and tucked under her cheek like a sleeping cherub. Riley crawled over to Alyssa, swept her hair out of her face, and checked for breathing. The strong smell of alcohol emanated from her tiny sighs -- Alyssa wasn’t a heavy drinker. 

Concerned, Riley jiggled her arm. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

An angelic murmur was the only answer to her question.

Not wanting to leave her on the floor, Riley stood up and bent down, her hands grasping both of Alyssa’s wrists before she pulled her down their hallway as gently as she could and stepped into her best friend's bedroom. 

Huffing out of breath, she made it next to Alyssa’s bed. Riley crouched down and tried to lift her onto the mattress, but Alyssa was dead weight. Maybe she had no other choice but to leave her there. 

Riley pulled a blanket and pillow from the bed, rolled Alyssa to her side, and got her as comfortable as she could. After placing a wastebasket next to her friend and leaving a bottled water on the night table, she patted her back. “I have so many things to tell you in the morning, Lyss. You’d be so proud of me.” Riley swallowed down the emotions that had threatened to escape since she realized Liam had left for good. Her voice broken and feeble, she continued, “I took that risk. I was fearless, just like you told me to be. It didn’t work out the way I had hoped, but …” she sniffled through a small smile, blinking back tears. “... I have no regrets.”

Riley rose to her feet and headed for the door when she heard a faint voice call out from behind that stopped her in her tracks. “Ri?”

She turned her head. “Hmm?”

“I’m always proud of you.”

Switching the light off, Riley smiled back at her friend, who still appeared to be resting in a calm slumber. “I know. Good night, bestie.”

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

The next morning, just as the sun had peeked from behind the clouds and the air was fresh with newness and warmth, Riley woke. Today would differ from every day before. She didn’t want to lie in bed all day and dwell on what-might-have-beens or how her life was a dead end to nowhere. She was determined she wanted something more out of it -- whatever that may be.

Slipping on a pair of trainers, running tights and a long sleeve shirt, she pulled her hair up in a high ponytail and headed out.

She made it two blocks before collapsing on a bench, gasping for air, and flipping off a kid on a bike who was laughing and taunting her.

After five more blocks of running and taking a break at nearly every bench or stoop along the way -- that same jerky kid still deriding her as he circled around each block -- Riley made her way back to her building, hunched over and sweaty. She didn’t jog as far as she’d liked to, but she made the effort, for which she was pleased with herself. 

It also didn’t hurt that there was a mouthy kid out there somewhere with two flat bicycle tires, crying to his mom, that was giving her a new boost of life. 

Reaching for the door of her building, she chuckled to herself thinking about his pouty little face -- haha, sucks to be you, kid -- when someone yelled out her name.

“Shit,” she panicked, thinking the boy’s parents had found her and had come to beat her ass. Riley fumbled with her keys, trying to make a quick getaway inside.

“Hey, Riley! Stop.” The voice sounded oddly familiar, and curiosity couldn’t stop her from whipping her head around to take a quick peek. She instantly recognized the man who was racing up the stairs towards her, from the bar. He was one of the guys from Liam’s party last night who helped after the collision. 

Pulling the keys from the lock and gripping the pepper spray attached to them, she jumped back when he suddenly hopped up next to her like a fireball of energy.

“Riley. I’m so glad I caught up with you. I’m Maxwell -- we met last night -- and this is Rashad.” He pointed over his shoulder. The man gave a simple nod in return. “He was there, too.”

Her brows knit in confusion. “Oookay. You both aren’t here by chance upset over a couple of slashed bike tires, are you? Because that wasn’t me. I saw who did it, though, if you need a witness statement.” Riley’s eyes shifted around, looking for a person to match her fake would-be description.

Maxwell shook his head with a chuckle and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, her gaze falling to it. “Nah, I came to talk to you about Liam. You’re all he could talk about when he got back to the hotel last night. He went on and on about the cafe, and the trip to the Statue of Liberty, and how beautiful you are ...”

“He -- he did?” She was pleasantly surprised, her heart bursting at his words.

“Yeah. We’re heading back to Cordonia so Liam can find someone to marry and all that jazz. But before I go, I wanted to officially extend to you an invitation to join us for the festivities in Cordonia. Sooo … is there somewhere we can talk?”

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

“You want me to do what?” Riley jumped up from the sofa, her eyes wide and mouth gaping as she gawked back at Maxwell, who was sitting at the far end. Her trembling hand shot to her forehead before she paced back and forth. “Let me get this straight. You want to sponsor me to compete to marry a man I just met last night? And not just any man, a prince. You’re going to fly me halfway across the world -- You could be the Official Royal Serial Killer, for all I know -- then prance me around like some beauty pageant contestant?  And all I have to do is say ‘yes to the dress’ that you can’t afford? Just hop right on a plane with two strange men, huh? How naïve do I look to you?” Riley paused for a second. “Don’t answer that.”

“I’m not doing it for you. I saw how Liam looked at you last night at the bar, and later when he returned from your date. I’ve never seen him that happy before. Honestly, I don’t want him to lose that. We’re kinda crunched for time, though. I’ve got a plane leaving in an hour.”

“An hour?” Riley questioned as she plopped down on the coffee table, her back to Maxwell and the guy in the chair across the room who hadn’t said a word the whole time. It was a once-in-a-lifetime offer to travel somewhere new and exciting and literally rub elbows with royalty. To live out that fairytale that most girls could only dream of. But more importantly, it was a way to see Liam again, and she wanted to so badly … if Maxwell was indeed telling the truth. 

Even if nothing came of it, there was no job tying her down anymore. Her dad had just gotten married to her stepfather and stayed busy as a chef for Beyonce and Jay-Z, so he would be fine, and she had enough money in savings to pay her portion of the rent while she was gone and expenses for her travels. There was just one thing she would insist on.

Riley spun around on the table, her eyes flashing between the two men. “I will do this -- on one condition.”

Maxwell clapped his hands excitedly. “Yes! Just name it and it’s yours.”

“Max.” Rashad leaned forward in his chair, his elbows pressed into his knees. “You don’t even know what she wants yet.”

“I’m getting to that.” Maxwell turned to her with an arched brow. “Okay, Riley. What is your condition?”

She hadn’t even asked Alyssa yet, but Riley steepled her fingers and volunteered her, anyway. “My roommate has to go with me.”

“No problemo.”

“What -- Really?”

“Sure. She can ride the jet back with us and I’ll even help her find a good hotel room nearby so you two can visit … if you’re able to find time in between all the competitions, balls, traveling, lessons, and what not. It’ll be great!”

Riley shook her head adamantly, not willing to budge on the issue. “No! I want Alyssa there for all of those things. If I even have the slightest chance of being a serious contender and a fully functioning human being, I need someone there to make sure I don’t do anything stupid … and I will … a lot.  Plus, she’s my best friend, and I’m not doing this without her.”

Feeling the pressure to relent and the seconds ticking away until takeoff, Maxwell’s shoulders slumped, taking in Riley’s pleading expression. “I -- I don’t know what to do. Your friend would have to be sponsored also in order to stay with you. She would have to be a suitor and compete for Liam’s hand just like you and all the other ladies, and there can only be one sponsee for each noble house. If you’re our pick, then she would need to have someone of nobility who doesn’t have a suitor yet and knows it’s all a ... ruse …” he trailed off, grinning impishly, as an idea suddenly popped into his head. Maxwell’s gaze swept across the room and landed on his friend, Rashad, who had a deer-in-the-headlights look, knowing exactly what he was getting at.

“Oh no. Leave me out of this,” he insisted while waving his hands back and forth. “This is all on you, Maxwell.”

“No, don’t say that yet.” Riley sprang to her feet and grabbed a picture frame from a nearby table, falling to her knees in front of Rashad to beg. “This is Alyssa.” She cheerfully pointed her friend out in the picture, delighted when the Lord of Domvallier’s eyes grew and seemed more than intrigued. “She’s not only beautiful, charming, and supportive, but she’s the smartest person I know. Everyone just loves her. And even though she won’t want to win because of me, she’ll represent your house with the greatest of integrity and propriety. I swear it.” 

“It’s for Liam,” Maxwell interjected, wagging his brows. “Imagine how grateful he’ll be when he finds out your part in making this happen for him.”`

Rashad let out a heavy groan. “Max, you know I would do anything for a friend -- especially Liam -- but it’s not that simple. There’s a reason why Domvallier opted not to have a suitor join this season: I have business dealings in California that coincide with some of the competitions. And with Mother’s and Father’s health in decline, I couldn’t possibly burden them with traveling and overseeing a suitor. It just wouldn’t work.”

Riley turned to Maxwell. “Well … couldn’t she just hang out with us most of the time? It’s not like she’d be in it to win it, anyway.”

“I don’t see why not.” Maxwell shrugged. “We all travel and stay together for the most part anyway.” He glanced over at Rashad, who could do nothing but stare at the two of them bouncing like eager children with big cheshire grins, while he literally decided the fate of a woman who had no idea she had just been volunteered to “pretend” compete for the hand of a prince the entire summer, in another country, and had to board a plane in just under an hour.

Rashad sighed and took the photo from Riley’s hand, giving it a quick glance. He was definitely smitten by the bright, blue-eyed woman with the big dimpled smile and wouldn’t mind getting to know her better, particularly if she was everything described to him. “I should have gone with Drake back to the plane.” He shook his head and handed the photo back to Riley. “Can’t believe I’m doing this, but --” 

Before he even finished his thought, Maxwell and Riley leaped to their feet to celebrate, whooping and howling around him, ruffling his jet black hair, hugging, and clapping him several times on the chest.

“What’s going on?”

The three of them whipped their heads around at the raspy-sounding voice that caught their attentions.

“Lyss!” Riley’s eyes lit up at the sight of her best friend standing there; she couldn’t wait to share all the good news with her. Maxwell, and particularly Rashad’s, jaws dropped at the sight before them. They both did a double take of the picture in the frame and then back to the petite brunette who wore a rumpled party dress, was missing one flat shoe, and sported smudged mascara under her sunken eyes and hair flying in every direction.

Riley moved over to Alyssa, placing a gentle hand on her arm with a smile. “Alyssa. These gentlemen are from Cordonia -- It’s somewhere you need a plane ride for. This is Lord Maxwell Beaumont.” She gestured and received a wave back. “And this is Lord Rashad of Doberman Pinscher,” she stated in a posh accent.

“Domvallier,” he corrected, stunned and still unable to take his eyes off his new suitor.

“Lords?” she questioned in a feeble tone; Riley nodded back at her.

Alyssa smiled at the two strangers, then lowered her head and curtsied like she was wearing a ball gown before them. “How do you do? Welcome to House Devereaux-Brooks. It’s so kind of you to stop by and make our acquaintances. Please do make yourselves at home.” She straightened back up and immediately turned to Riley. “I’m dying. Where’s the Advil?”

Riley insisted Alyssa have a seat while she retrieved the Advil and a glass of water for her. Feeling that was a fair deal, Alyssa stumbled over to the couch, accidentally stepping on Maxwell, who held onto her arms and helped her the rest of the way. When she was seated, she leaned forward, rubbing soothing circles around her temples, willing the room to stop spinning. Riley shuffled back with two pills and a cool bottle of water, and handed them to Alyssa, who hastily threw back and chugged nearly the entire thing. She couldn’t remember a time when she felt so thirsty.

No one knew really how to respond just yet. Rashad conferred in hushed tones with Maxwell, as Alyssa kept her eyes closed for a moment, taking in slow, deep breaths. Everything from head to toe ached and throbbed. 

Finally, she smacked her still-dry mouth and announced, “Okay, I’m going back to bed. Goodnight, everyone. It was so nice to meet you all.” She moved to the edge of the sofa when Riley pressed lightly on her shoulders, holding her back.

“Wait a minute, Lyss. I have something I want to talk to you about.”

Lowering the shades in the living room to block the sun from Alyssa’s sensitive eyes, Riley began to explain how she met Liam at the bar last night and was asked to go out for a drink with him. Alyssa nodded her head slowly as she followed along, somewhat remembering their phone conversation about the date, how he was a prince, and the Statue of Liberty -- Lyss was proud of herself for being a part of making that happen. The next of their conversation continued on to Liam returning to his country for the social season in which he was expected to find someone to marry by the end of the summer. “I’m so sorry he had to leave, but what does any of this have to do with you, Ri?” 

Riley glanced over her shoulder. “That’s where these two guys come in.”

Alyssa followed her friend’s gaze then shook her head. “I’m not following.”

“Maxwell wants to sponsor me to travel to Cordonia to compete for Liam. And we leave in an hour. Yay!” She raised her arms in a V, trying to garner excitement from her roommate, knowing she’d probably freak out.

And she did. “YOU CAN’T GO TO A FOREIGN COUNTRY! FOR ALL YOU KNOW THESE GUYS ARE SERIAL KILLERS OR SEX TRAFFICKERS!” Alyssa looked at Rashad and smiled shyly. “Not you, of course.” She then eyed Maxwell. “Probably him.”

“I know, I know. But that’s kinda, sorta where you come in.” Riley’s eyes danced around the room while tugging on the hem of her shirt.

“What do you mean?”

Maxwell checked the time on his phone as Riley laid out the details, point by point, to her friend, who guzzled the last bit of her water as she found out she had basically been enlisted into becoming a suitor as well. Alyssa spit out her water. “WHAT?”

Rashad sighed and looked for paper towels to dry off his lap.

Taking in Alyssa’s bug-eyed stare, Riley scrambled to make the whole situation sound more appealing to her.

“There’s skiing --”

“You know I can’t ski.”

“There’s ice skating --”

“Are you trying to break both of my ankles at the same time?”

“There’s horseback riding --”

“Oh, God, horses?”

“And beaches.”

Alyssa started to complain before stopping herself. “Okay, that doesn’t sound so bad. But still, Ri --”

“Please, Alyssa,” Riley pleaded, her still-small voice just above a whisper. She sat down on the coffee table again, across from her friend, eyes glassy. “I would never ask you to do something so big for me. But, I want you there … I need you there. This … this is the guy, Lyss. He’s the one.”

Seeing the hopeful expression staring back at her, Alyssa’s heart sank. She set aside the empty bottle and leaned forward, placing a compassionate hand on Riley’s. “First of all, you don’t need me. You’re more than capable of doing this on your own. I mean, give yourself a little credit … you landed a prince.” They both let out soft laughs before she continued. “But, secondly, you know I’m a hopeless romantic. So if this is the only way you’ll go … count me in.”

As the two of them hugged and Riley expressed her fervent thanks, Maxwell cleared his throat and interrupted their happy moment. The girls turned to him as he stated, “I hate to break all of this up -- I really do. This is like the totally awesome stuff I live for -- but we’re pressed for time now. Our friend Drake is already on the plane waiting and isn’t above leaving without us.”

“Oh good. Doesn’t he sound like a little ray of sunshine?” Alyssa scoffed, causing Riley to snicker and drawing half a smirk from Rashad.

The guys headed down to the limo while the girls rummaged through their rooms, stuffing as many of their things as they could possibly fit into suitcases and bags. After taking turns getting quick showers, being vigilant of the time, they double checked to make sure they had what they needed for an extended trip, planning to  call friends and family on the drive to the airport to let them know where they would be.

Alyssa slipped on a pair of sunglasses as she stepped into the hallway, while Riley locked the door to their apartment behind them. “And you’re sure this Liam is worth all this?”

Riley regarded her thoughtfully before letting out a contented sigh, “Yeah. He’s worth it.”

Alyssa shrugged and pushed the sunglasses higher on her nose. “Well, if we don’t die, we’ll have a hell of a story to tell.”

-----------

Fearless Tags (Let us know if you wanted add or removed from this taglist, it won’t be our regular permalists)

@dcbbw​ @ao719​  @texaskitten30​ @janezillow​ @mskaneko​  @callmeellabella​ @queenjilian​ @sirbeepsalot​  @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @bebepac​ @kingliam2019​  @amandablink​  @choiceskatie​ @annekebbphotography​ @ofpixelsandscribbles​ @alyssalauren​ @cordonianroyalty​ @mom2000aggie​  @princessleac1​ @kimmiedoo5​ @graceful-leah​ @thegreentwin​ @gkittylove99​  @pink-diamond13​ @tinkie1973​ @queenrileyrose​ @zaffrenotes​ @no-one-u-know​ @sammie0220​ @shanzay44​ @yourmajesty09​  @bitchloveskcbaseball​ @kat-tia801​ @openheart12​ @drakeandkatherine​ @marshmallowsandfire​ @masterofbluff​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​ @msjr0119​ @hopelessromanticmonie​ @sanchita012​ @gabesmommie1130​ @charlotteg234​ @jessiembruno​ @debramcg1106​

In case your interested: @sweatyrysconnoisseur​ @neotericthemis​

[jgvfhl]

The Number Lads

Part 1/???? 3K words, no warnings :)

 So I’ve created an audience on Tumblr for the Number Lads, and I’ve happened to got 3K words here for them. So! Here are the origins of the Number Lads! More to follow.... eventually....

For future reference:

Sevenset = ARC-7777 = ARCBoiiiii

Do-si-do = CT-2222 = Double Trouble

Trees = CT-3333 = Green Bean

Loops = CT-8888 = Loopy

Sixes = CC-6666

Double Trouble: i meant it as a joke sevens

ARCBoiiiiii: i didn’t

ARCBoiiiii: what you think you can drop that information on me and i wont use it??? how long have you known me

Double Trouble: okay okay but if you die i’m not mourning you

Loopy: ouch

Green Bean: how do you have this much time to comm us when you’re at ARC training, sevenset

Green Bean: who changed my name

Double Trouble: :3c

ARCBoiiiii: what you don’t like it? thought it suited you, trees

Green Bean: why did i let you guys talk me into this club…

ARCBoiiiii: we’re awfully convincing that way

Double Trouble: you felt compelled

Double Trouble: it’s the numbers gang bond

Green Bean: it was not that

ARCBoiiiii: was it loops space buns

ARCBoiiiii: i bet it was loops space buns

Loopy: what

Double Trouble: they are adorable

Loopy: oh kriff you, don’t you have arc stuff to do, sevenset?

ARCBoiiiii: ehhhhh my next training block doesnt start for another 4min, so....

Double Trouble: well i gotta run, we’re going hyperspace in a min or so--remember the meeting next week!!! be there or be square!

ARCBoiiiii: we dont have any perfect squares yet ;-;

Green Bean: Yeah, yeah, i’ll see you weirdos eventually

Loopy: stay alive out there

Double Trouble: especially the guy who wants to recruit Commander Death over there

ARCBoiiiii: I’ll be fiiinnnne whats the worst that can happen

Green Bean: i mean. his name. is DEATH?

ARCBoiiiii: ..... a fair point.... i guess you’ll just have to wait until the next numbers gang meeting huh :)

Loopy: maker help you

----

Sevenset was uncharacteristically quiet that day during second meal, but only because his mouth was continually occupied with food, not talking. He was on the clock today.

“Hey, Sevenset, are you inhaling those rations, or…?”

He looked over at Buster next to him, quickly swallowing his food. “I just got something I wanna do,” he said, taking a glug of water.

“Something so important you’re taking one of the few unscheduled breaks we have to do it? Okay then.”

Sevenset cleaned the rest of his tray, flashing a grin at Buster as he stood up. “Don’t wanna be late. Got a meeting with death.” He really couldn’t resist the pun. Honestly.

Buster’s eyebrow raised skeptically. His friend next to him, Sketch, asked, “Is this about some new way you’ve managed to piss off the trainers? Because yeah, I’m sure Alpha could arrange a meeting with death for you if you… I dunno, painted pink hearts on his armor.”

“Amazing idea,” Sevenset admitted, his brain automatically figuring out where the pink paint was (he’d have to make it), where Alpha-17’s armor lived (not sure on that one), and how possible it would be to sneak in and out to accomplish the task (a challenge). “However, no, not this time. See you guys later!” He deposited his tray and utensils in the proper area to be cleaned, then jogged out of the mess hall.

Kamino’s winding halls and levels really weren’t efficient--but compared to Coruscant… he couldn’t really argue. A healthy stretch of time in the Guard had given him plenty of tools to make his way around inefficient, crowded, twisty places like this. It didn’t take long before he reached where he was going. Aside from the resident Rancor Battalion, there were often troopers on Kamino from various groups throughout the GAR. They stayed out of the way of those training in separate wings of Tipoca City, and right now, Sevenset was very keen to speak to a visiting commander.

He slipped into a lift with two other troopers--visiting, by the looks of their battered armor. Luckily, they were too engrossed in their own conversation to really notice him, despite his rather colorful tattoos that usually made him stick out. But it was for the best this time. He got off at the level above and started down the hall, reading door labels as he went, searching….

Ah. Here. He pushed a button to open the door, but it was locked. Not entirely surprising, but… now what? If his internal clock was still fairly accurate, he had about ten minutes before he needed to be back for the next training block.

“It’s locked for a reason.”

He whirled, his body almost automatically snapping to attention at the low voice behind him.

Commander Sixes (AKA Commander Death, remember) surveyed him with a disturbing lack of expression. He was tall, for a clone. Probably closer in height to some of the Alphas than to Sevenset. His black armor stuck out like green plants on Coruscant in the brightly lit halls of Tipoca City, making him somehow look even bigger. Even more unnerving, he still had his helmet on, the visor lit with a dull green light, and fixed pointedly on him. Sevenset hated not being able to read people...

Sevenset hadn’t planned for this. Come to think of it, a lot of the “plan” he’d concocted relied on a few assumptions, and all of them seemed to be fading. One of them had been that he would have no problem talking to a CO--he never had before. “Sir, hi--hello--I was uhm…” He managed to clamp down on the first coherent thought to float through his head, so instead of blurting, “You’re a lot taller than I thought you’d be,” he stumbled upon, “It’s a nice room you’ve got. From the outside,” and immediately wanted to bash his head in on the wall.

The commander’s helmet never moved, just kept staring him down. “Get out of my way,” he finally growled, taking a step forward.

Against all better judgement, Sevenset stood his ground, although he squished himself a bit closer against the door. “Yessir, of course, just--one thing, really quick thing, I promise.” When the commander didn’t kill him or rip his arms off or something, he went on, finally finding his words were cooperating with him. “So, you’re CC-6666, naturally. I happen to be CT-7777--Sevenset, I’m Sevenset. There’s a group of us, see, sir--with the repeating numbers, and we have little meetings--”

“No.”

“--is what I thought you’d say, but just--” he paused, fumbling a bit to pull a piece of flimsi out of his pocket. “There’s the frequency, there’s the date of the next meeting,” he said, holding out the flimsi scrap. “I’m sure the other boys would love it if you dropped by.” The end of his final sentence shriveled into an undignified squawk when Commander Sixes reached out, grabbed his collar, and shoved him bodily out of the way of the door.

“Get back to training before I have some of my boys drag you there,” he said, entering the door’s access code.

“I’ve got six minutes--”

The door slid shut in his face. Well. He was still alive. So… that counted as a success. Perhaps not a resounding success, but a success. He stood in stunned silence for a moment, still clutching the scrap of flimsi in his hand, wondering if he should stick it in the door so the commander would find it later. However, he had no trouble believing the commander’s threat that his men literally would drag him back to the ARCs if he told them to, so it was probably best not to linger.

Sevenset jumped to attention for the second time that day when the door slid open again. He just stood there, dumb, as Commander Sixes stepped out, plucked the scrap of flimsi from his fingers, then returned to his room with about as much ceremony as befitted dumping pebbles out of a boot.

Oh, yeah. Definitely a success.

---

The first thing Sixes did once back in the privacy of his albeit temporary rooms was remove the top half of his armor, only leaving the gauntlet with his wrist comm. Turning his attention to said wrist comm, he entered Colt’s number. There was a short wait before the other commander answered it.

“Everything alright over there, Sixes, sir?”

“It’s about one of the ARC candidates.”

There was a pause. Understandable. The ARCs weren’t supposed to be in this wing of Tipoca City. “Which one?” His tone suggested he already had his suspicions.

“Calls himself Sevenset.”

He heard inaudible muttering on the other end. “What’d he do this time?” Sixes had suspected as much.

“Quite a pair he’s got on him, hasn’t he?”

Colt laughed dryly. “Yeah, sure. Hopefully, he’s worth the trouble.”

Sixes looked over the scrap of flimsi in his other hand. “Yeah… I think he might be.”

~+~

Leaning back in his pilot’s chair, Do-si-do watched the little light on the ship’s holoprojector, waiting for the others to join the meeting. He always took the calls in his ship. It was more private than his bunk most of the time, and frankly, the audio quality was so much better than on the hand-held devices.

Trees was the first to join, punctual as usual.

“Hey, Trees,” he smiled.

“Have you heard from Sevenset yet?” he asked.

Do-si-do shook his head, combing strands of his bleached curls out of his face. “Nah. Figure he’s been too busy. Graduation was supposed to be a couple days ago, right?”

“Three, yes.”

Loops’ holographic miniature appeared beside Trees’. He looked exhausted, but awake. His long hair was down from his signature twin buns, and he leaned his chin on his hand, fingers resting just over the infinity symbol tattoo on his cheek.

“Loops,” Trees greeted him.

“Mph.”

“What happened to you?” Do-si-do asked.

“Supply shipment,” Loops sighed. “General Koon’s having skeleton crews tonight so we can get some sleep.” After a stifled yawn, he asked, “Is Sevenset dead yet?”

Do-si-do smiled. “Trees asked the same thing, and I have no idea.”

As if on cue, a third hologram popped up on the ship’s control panel. Sevenset beamed at them, his new ARC pauldrons proudly on display. “Guess who’s not dead, fellas!”

“Hey hey! Look at you, ARC-7777,” Do-si-do grinned, leaning forward in his seat. “How’s it feel?”

“I really love the kama, gotta be honest.” He was only visible from the waist up, but they could see him sway his hips back and forth, clearly enjoying his new gear.

“Show us the paint,” Loops demanded, as firmly has he could demand it in his half-asleep state.

Sevenset obliged, setting down his holoprojector--his personal one, now he had graduated--and stepping back so more of his body was visible. The paint job was fairly similar to his previous armor--the sharp edges, the circle on his right shoulder bell holding four stylized sevens--but the new armor on his chest and arms had forced some alterations. They could see just about all of the kama now, the bright red sevens standing out against the dark grey fabric. Predictable, maybe, but still eye-catching. That was Sevenset’s main goal, if it weren’t already clear from the tapestry of tattoos on his bald head that ran down his neck under his blacks, and the several glinting piercings in his ears and nose.

“It’s definitely you.” Trees, bluntly.

“They let you keep the red paint, huh?” Do-si-do said. Sevenset had previously been assigned to the Coruscant Guard. After proving a bit more trouble than the Guard could take, and catching some CO’s eye, he’d been shipped back to Kamino a couple months ago to join Rancor.

“Hey, if Commander Colt can have it, I guess I can too. No one stopped me.”

Without warning, a fourth hologram appeared beside the others in front of Do-si-do’s eyes. A trooper--a big trooper, even in miniature--and in dark armor, helmet included. His brows scrunched together as he studied the person, failing to recognize them.

Sevenset did. “Commander!”

“I see Colt decided against tossing you overboard.”

Oh, no karking way. “Commander Sixes?” Do-si-do blurted.

At the same time, Loops made some unintelligible noise and suddenly disconnected, and Trees froze like a lizard when a hawk flies overhead, his eyes gone wide, one arm half-way to a salute. Frankly, Do-si-do could understand their reactions. Commander Sixes--like many of the CCs--was legendary. His wing of Star Fighters had fought through some of the toughest space battles so far, and always came out of it. As a pilot himself, Do-si-do had heard story after story about their skills. The fighter wing and the commander now wore the nickname Death, thanks to their brutal but effective tactics.

There was a brief and painfully quiet pause before the commander said, “Pride of the GAR, this lot.”

“Eh, they’ll get over it,” Sevenset shrugged, his hologram appearing to zoom in as he came closer again. “Right, Trees?” he added with a grin. Their friend was still in shock, it looked like. “Might have to tell him to relax, sir.”

The commander’s helmet turned towards Trees. “At ease. Take a breath before you pass out.”

Trees blinked, lowering his arm. “Yessir,” he said quietly, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

“I’ll try to get Loops back,” Sevenset said, a datapad appearing in his hands. Damn, ARCs really did get all the good stuff. Do-si-do still had to share a datapad with his squad of pilots.

“Shouldn’t there be more?” Commander Sixes asked.

“Of us? Yeah,” Do-si-do answered. “I guess there should be nine of us, in theory.”

“Nine or ten,” Trees said, his tone still a bit clipped.

“Ten or eleven, actually,” Sevenset corrected, still looking at his datapad. “We don’t know if a CT designation can be all zeroes. Might have been taken out of the system, who knows.”

“It’s hard when we don’t have access to the full GAR database,” Do-si-do went on. “We have to rely on hearsay and brothers from other battalions. Sevenset and I met by chance on Coruscant.” Loops’ hologram reappeared. He looked a bit more awake now, still visibly on edge from the commander’s arrival, and with a glower on his face. “Loopy! Welcome back.”

“I hate you.”

“Whoa, hey, I didn’t know he was coming either,” he defended himself. “Blame Sevenset.”

“I’m blaming both of you,” Loops said. “You told Sevenset about him, and Sevenset was stupid enough to go through with it.”

Sevenset, his attention off his datapad and back on the meeting, put a hand over his heart. “Stupid enough?” he repeated, doing his best to sound utterly wounded. “I think you mean ballsy enough.”

“He meant stupid enough,” the commander replied immediately and without emotion. “And I agree.”

Do-si-do snorted a laugh at the look of utter indignation on Sevenset’s face. Even Trees relaxed a bit more. “Okay, I can get used to having a CC around,” he grinned.

“Finally, someone with the authority to tell him off,” Loops said, expressing Do-si-do’s feelings exactly.

The recipient of their mocking pouted at them, folding his arms as best he could with his new armor. “Now I just feel unloved.”

“Why do I get the feeling Commander Fox was only too happy to get you qualified for ARC training?” the commander asked, his tone remaining impassive.

“For your information,” Sevenset said, then stopped, realizing, as they all had, that the commander had known where Sevenset had previously served. No one had told him this information. “How did you know I was in the Guard?”

They all turned to the commander. “I’m a commander. I can look anyone up. I looked you all up.”

Do-si-do leaned even farther forward in his seat, a huge smile on his face. “You have access to the full database?”

“You can find the others!” Sevenset completed, a similar smile on his face as well.

There was a pause. Do-si-do was starting to think Commander Sixes just liked the drama they created. In fact, judging by how he had yet to show his face and was wearing all black armor, it seemed Commander Death was fond of the dramatic in a few ways. “In theory, sure.”

“Yes! Oh, fantastic,” Sevenset went on, rubbing his hands together. “You can tell us where they’re stationed--”

“If they’re still alive,” Trees added in. He had a point.

“--and then we can find them!”

The commander’s helmet tilted, his expression hidden. “I’m guessing Fox declined membership,” he said.

Do-si-do snorted a gain, and Trees and Loops both smiled. They all remembered Sevenset’s story of trying to recruit Commander Fox to be number ten for their little group.

“If by ‘declined membership’ you mean, ‘shipped me out to Kamino for someone else to deal with,’ then yes,” Sevenset answered. “He declined.”

“Maybe you can ask him,” Loops said.

“Hey, yeah--”

“No.” The commander’s tone didn’t leave much room for argument, but that had never stopped Sevenset a day in his life, and Do-si-do was more than content to sit back and enjoy the show.

“But you’re his big brother, right? You can drag him into things--”

“I’m not a damn recruiter, ARC, now stand down.”

The effect was instantaneous. They all recognized a CO’s “talk back and you’ll be cleaning ‘freshers for the next month” voice. Combined with Commander Sixes’ already awe-inspiring reputation, his order shut them all up. Trees once again straightened to attention, and this time they all joined him, even Sevenset.

“Understood, sir,” he replied. Do-si-do could see the new training in him now. Sevenset wouldn’t be an ARC if he didn’t know when to drop the comic act, but the speed and discipline with which he’d done so just now was different.

The commander waited a second or two, then he nodded once. “At ease.”

They relaxed, mostly. It was hard to ignore the mood shift that had taken place. As cool as it was having a commander in the club… there were some obvious issues that needed addressing if this was going to remain a “just for fun” place.

Do-si-do found himself as the one breaking the uneasy silence. “But… you can help us find where the others are stationed, right, sir?”

The commander’s helmet dipped. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Can you do that… now?” Sevenset ventured.

The commander’s helmet tilted to one side, and it looked like he sighed. “Fine.” The others perked up. “But, I can only find their assignments, not their current locations.”

“We can work with that,” Do-si-do agreed, and the others nodded along. “Who’s writing this down?”

“I can!” Sevenset volunteered.

Trees reminded him, “Your handwriting is entirely illegible. Even to you.”

“Yes, but now I have a datapad. I can type all my notes.”

“I’m just going to start talking if you boys don’t figure it out,” the commander warned.

“Okay, okay, fine, Trees can copy it.”

Trees’ organization skills would always beat out Sevenset’s anyway. Maybe ARC training had fixed that, though. Trees shifted around, grabbing what he needed, then looked up and nodded when he was ready.

The commander’s helmet tipped down to look at something--presumably a datapad--as he spoke. “CT-4444 is with the Marines under Bacara. Probably has limited contact availability depending on the mission. Infrequent leave.” Do-si-do’s eyebrows raised, and he glanced at Sevenset and Loops. They hadn’t been expecting a tactical rundown of each person. But… they wouldn’t complain. “CT-27-5555 is the only ‘fives’ trooper in the GAR. He’s one of Rex’s freaks, so good luck getting your hands on him.”

“That’s the five-oh-first, right?” Loops asked. “Torrent, or something?”

“Yeah. Rex’s freaks. I’m sure he’ll fit right in.” Do-si-do smirked. He probably would. “And CT-9999 is with Ghost Company in the two-twelfth. Pretty decent chance he and number five have run missions together. Or will in the future, anyway.”

“Is there a CT-0000?” Loops wanted to know.

“What about eleven-eleven?” Sevenset added.

The commander glanced up at them, then back to his materials. “Yeah, the one-eighteenth has a CT-0000. Didn’t find an eleven-eleven, though.”

Do-si-do frowned. “Not even a casualty report?”

“No.”

“But… he could still be on Kamino, right?” Trees said. “Cadets don’t show up in the main database until they graduate and deploy.”

The commander nodded. “He could be a cadet.”

“I could look,” Sevenset offered. “I mean. I live here now, so I should be able to find out if a CT-1111 exists. It’ll just take a bit longer.”

“Yeah, we’ll figure it out,” Do-si-do nodded. “In the meantime,” he continued, leaning forward, “who’re we going after first?”

Ta-daaa!! @blsmjoon @nintendolover13-ts4 (I couldn’t tag your side blog sorry) @alamogirl80 (idk why I can’t tag you either ;-;) @23-bears @theultimatesandwich

[myfeetkeepdancing]

Charmed | Peter Parker x Male!Reader

Just to clarify, this is written with Peter being 18+ 

Requested by: @headmastermephistopheles 

Request: Could I request a peter parker x a playerish stark male reader? where the reader used to have a lot of guys and girls at his feet but when he moves to his fathers place , his bold honesty and charming charisma makes peter fall hard for him like super hard. Smut if possible ! I adore peter parker and you're amazing at writing about him so thank you for all the stories!

Words: 4468

Warning: Smut

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

"Captain." Extending a hand towards Steve. "Good seeing you again."

"Likewise, (Y/N)." Receiving a firm handshake in return. "You do know, you can call me Steve? Right?" Giving you a kind smile.

"I do. But I respect your rank." Giving him a salute. "And your service."

"You really do have the charm of your father." Patting you on the shoulder.

"Don't let him hear that. But thanks, Captain."

You hear him chuckle a little. "Enjoy your stay here." As he holds the door open for you. "If there's anything I can do, please do come by."

"I'll find my way. Thank you." Walking down the hall, you pass all sorts of the nametags of Avengers. The doors were quite far apart from each other. So the rooms had to be huge, you wonder. You can't help but chuckle to yourself as you walk these halls. Being Tony's son does mean having certain perks. You just seem so terribly out of place. Seeing you're far from an Avenger. No superpowers. Or special abilities. No suit of armor.

Although you've heard some things about a certain security and safety protocol. Making the chance very likely that there was a suit of armor with your name on it. But you wouldn’t jump into one out of free will. Absolutely not.

After finishing your studies. Going abroad, traveling the world, you naturally rolled into working for Stark Industries while exploring the many wonders of the world. You eventually end up here. In the Avengers tower.

A welcoming 'committee' awaited your arrival. With most of the Avengers present, you catch up with them. You've known them for almost your entire life. Growing up with Tony meant having the Avengers in the background. They were all kind and friendly to you. And you experienced the highs and lows as well. Although from the sideline. You looked up to them. To their work. Their loyalty and service to the world. An incredible burden.

With a bag slung over your shoulder, you set out for your room. Tony had everything arranged ahead. Luggage moved in. Redesigned the interior. Knowing him, he probably overdid himself again. Going complete overboard with everything. But finding the room was another thing. It's been years since you've been here. Even the tower itself had an extensive rebuild. Feeling your phone buzzing, on the verge of picking up. Your eyes spot someone at the elevator. Rocking back and forth on the heels of his foot. Eyes plastered to his phone.

"Spiderboy!" You jokingly call him, laying your hand on his shoulder.

"Wha-! Wow." He jump scares almost a feet away from you. "H-Hey!" Cracking a smile on his face as he realizes who you were. "(Y/N)"

"I'm sorry." You smiled, reaching him a hand. "You must be Peter."  

"Parker… P-Peter Parker." Shaking your hand, looking at you with big eyes. "Nice meeting you."

"Likewise, Peter." Silencing your buzzing phone. "I'm (Y/N), but you already knew that." You smile. "I've heard a lot about you, Peter. Tony is ecstatic about you."

"Are you k-…? Really?!"

"Yeah, Tony’s quick with words, but slow with feelings and such. But he honestly adores you. You have to see through his jokes and sarcasm."

Peter only nods, clamping his laptop under his other arm. Readjusting the bag on his shoulder. Listening carefully to every word you say.

"Sarcasm and wittiness isn't always the right approach, you know." Both of your attention gets drawn to the lift doors closing. "Sorry, buddy, but you just missed your ride."

"It's fine. Don't worry." He smiled. "Bus won't be here in 32 minutes."

"So, do you live in the tower as well?" Pressing the elevator button for Peter. As he's too occupied listening to you.

"N-No, I… eh live with my aunt downtown."

"How nice." Sounding a bit too bitter to your liking. You just wish he lived here. Being able to spend some time with someone your age, instead of all the 'older' Avengers. "You're heading there right now?"

He nods quickly. "You?"

"Well, I'll be fair to you." Leaning into him, as if you're going to reveal a big secret. "I was on my way to my room. But I can't find it." Scratching the back of your head.

"I know where it is." He lively springs into action.

"Wonderful, could you show me?"

"This way." He beamed, proudly walking in front of you. Occasionally glancing over his shoulder.

"So… Anything big happening here at the weekends?"

"Not much. From time to time, the Avengers share a drink on the top floor. But things are calm these days." He stops at a door with your name on it. You caught yourself to not paying any attention to the route Peter took. Not where it was located opposite to the previously seen rooms.

"Thank you, Peter." Unlocking the room. Hanging your coat beside the door. Peter looking on, staring into the room. Large pane windows, pretty much the same as Tony's own room. Luxuries and grand.

"Oh, well then. I better be going." Checking the time on his phone. "See you around."

"Peter." You call out to him, "What will you be doing this weekend?"  Taking your place against the doorpost. Sheathing your hands in your pockets.

"M-Me?" He stutters, completely caught off guard by your question. You notice he's avoiding your eye contact the whole time. A blush coloring his cheeks. Staring down the hallway. "I… ehm."

"Attending any parties?"

"No-No-No, I'm not much of a party going type. Do you want to go to a party?"

"I prefer not to." You confess. "I was hoping to do something with you."

"Okay, okay." His smile growing wider and wider. "What are you thinking of?"

"I dunno. What do you usually do on the weekend?" You return the question. From this distance, you could almost hear his brain. "Except for saving the city as Spiderman, of course." Shooting him a playful wink.

Peter's face shoots bright red. With his hand, he rubs his cheeks and mouth, trying to hide his glowing red face.

"Here." Handing him your business card. "Think about it. If you don't want-..."

"Of course, I want to. But, I...ehm am running late." Glancing at his wrist while he definitely wore no watch. Starting to walk off.

"You know where to find me." You sniffle and wave him goodbye.

"Bye, mister Sta-... (Y/N)! Storming around the corner. Noticing his happy skip jump as he races off towards the elevator. You can't help but smile at his cuteness. It was only a few minutes ago he guided you to your room. His bus wasn't due to arrive in more than 25 minutes, you guess. You let him have his moment. He looked so nervous. You have to admit, you experience a bit of nerve and flutters in your stomach as well.

You spend the rest of the evening in the lounge area with a couple of Avengers. Sharing a few beers, hearing their stories, and play some games. Your phone was never quiet, but tonight you had to check every single notification. Peter still prominently present in the back of your mind. Eagerly awaiting his message.

Your heart skipped a beat, seeing his name pop up on your screen. The fact you had Peter's number already in your phone, gave away the illusion you had no interest in him. You heard the stories about Peter. You had seen the pictures. You didn’t fool yourself. And Tony didn’t lock any of his computers around the house either, so you fished Peter’s number out of there with ease. His profile picture enough to give you the jitters.

Peter was way more talkative via messenger. The conversation lasting long into the evening. Chatting about anything, really. Of course, a Spiderman patrol selfie to top it off. In the end, you set the date. Not like a date. With romance and all that. None of it. At least that’s what you keep telling yourself. Tomorrow he’s coming over, and together you've decided to call it a movie night. That's what he usually does on Saturday’s he said. So that’s what it was. Not at his aunt’s house. Not in the lounge. In your room. And for the first, in a long time, you’re feeling actual nervous.

The next day, just around the clock of six in the evening, your watch signals you that Peter had entered the building. All those handy tech bits came off good use. Apparently, you could set a notification as soon as a biometric scan noticed a specific person entering the building. And yes, Tony had given you a witty remark for only checking Peter’s box. But who’s to blame. He designed the system in the first place. For that remark, he didn’t have an answer at the ready.

“You look nice.” Peter murmured, adjusting the bag over his shoulder. Scrapping his voice a little.

“Thanks.” You give him a kind smile. “You too. Classy.” You compliment him. “Come in, make yourself at home.” Peter again takes in the room after a few steps in, looking in awe at the view and luxuries interior. Modern and spacious. But also a tad bit too large for a person your age.

"Dressed for something special?" He has a slight stutter to his voice. "A party?"

"It's pretty much the same as yesterday, I believe." Checking your clothing, as if there's something off. “But to answer your question. No. No parties. I don’t like them that much.”

“But you’ve partied almost everywhere across the world. If I can believe the pictures…”

“You right. But the thing is, you’re invited by influential people because of your name. You're more of a statement. Doesn't make it as entertaining as it looks."

"Why don't you decline them? Be honest about it. They get pretty wild, I've heard." His face coloring red at the thought.

"Sometimes, there's more at stake than what I want at the moment." You sigh, raking your fingers through your hair. "Oh well. I've ordered pizza in." Trying to shift the attention of the conversation. Getting a thumbs up from him as he connects his laptop. “Beer?”

"Yes, please." He kindly nods, looking up from his laptop.

"Peter, you don't have to say please for everything." Patting him on his shoulder. Seating yourself beside him on the couch. "Cheers, buddy." Ringing your bottle against his.

You see a surprising look, turn into a broad smile. "C-Cheers."

The couch was surprisingly large, especially for the two of you. How you wished you could crawl against him. Your thoughts often drift away from the movie you were watching. You and Peter falling in conversations about anything. Absolutely anything. He was smart, really smart. Had an interest in loads of things. Shared a lot of interests with you.

His body language changed visibly during the course kf the evening. As soon as his shoes came off, making himself really comfortable on the couch, you knew he felt at home. Making remarks, and funny jokes about anything and anyone. You’re drawn to each other. There was no other way to describe it. Your moments of eye contact were uneasy at the beginning. Especially for him. But that changed the later the evening progressed. Not one moment of silence dropped into the conversation. Peter told his stories. His experiences with becoming a member of the Avengers. Tales about Tony. But was interested in your stories, worries, and concerns. Peter was a damn good listener. You had to excuse yourself to Peter for a moment and step into the room nearby. For most of the evening, you've been pressing calls away. But not this one. In all, it takes not more than ten minutes before returning.

“Sorry, European client.” You excuse yourself. “Time zones and all that.” Seating yourself beside him again. Laying your arm to rest on the back of the couch. All comfortable and relaxed.

“I couldn’t understand a single word you were saying.” He giggles. "But it sounded kinda funny."

“It's the Dutch language. It's strange in their own unique ways. I'll teach you the basics sometime. Could come in handy someday."

“Awesome. You have an idea how long will you be staying?”

"Yeah, well the thing is, I haven't talked about it with Tony." You confess. "I've made quite a few international contacts by now. And there's still a lot to gain there. For a bit, it depends on what Tony has in mind."

“You don’t have a say in that?”

“You know how persuasive he is. Before you know it I’m back across the ocean.”

"Anyway." Rising to your feet. "In for another?" You intended to reach for his empty bottle. But are stopped by him. A firm grasp holds your wrist in place. You look at him in surprise. But you don't meet eye to eye. His head hanging downcast.

"Don't…" He muttered. "D-Don't go…" His hand feeling clammy and warm on your skin. You notice a slight tremble to his grip. His breathing heavy.

"It's… just the freezer." You try to lighten the mood. "But-..."

"No, it's n-not-…" He jumps up to his feet. “N-Not that…” Visibly swallowing the lump in his throat. "Please don't go." Taking a step closer, closing the distance between the two of you. Sad looking puppy eyes meet yours.

"P-Peter…" You stutter, followed by a shuddering breath. "Are you…" Your head is fuzzy, spinning, overwhelmed by your feelings.

Peter just nods with those big puppies eyes staring into your soul. Drawing you in closer. You turn into him, closing the distance. Peter was just a little bit shorter than you. And in slow motion, you close in on his lips. You bring your hand up to cup his cheek. Peter leaning, his hand reaching for the back of your neck. Lips meeting in the middle. It's soft. It's slow. It's sweet. It’s everything you wanted. It's breathtaking. Your bodies finding each other. Pressed against one another.

"P-Peter...?" “Y-You… ehm….” Red flooding your cheeks. You both stare at each other, hesitant on the next move. “Wow... A… S-Stark isn't quickly rendered speechless... B-But, this…." You nod. "T-this does…it”

"I want you to stay (Y/N). Really… R-Really want you to." His hands reaching for the first buttons of your blouse.

You cup both his cheeks and kiss him again. More violent than before. Resting your foreheads for a moment against each other. "Peter…?" You stammer. “You… really wanna do this?

He pushes you onto the couch, a force you couldn't possibly stop. Seating himself on your lap. With a simple nod, he takes off his blouse. Revealing his masculine body. Leaving you gazing at the irresistible shape of his body. Feeling yourself growing. You snap out of it the moment you see him open his belt, tugging to open his pants. Revealing his underwear, stretched by his length. Your hands slowly caress down the side of his figure. Captivated by his physique.

His lips smack onto yours, one hand on his length. Peter moaning into the kiss. The other arm wrapped around your neck. Grinding against one another for a while. Until you replace his fingers with yours on his cock. Making him groan harder than before. Stuttering your name as you stroke his member slow and steady. His head falling to the crook of your neck. You feel his trembling fingers work with your buttons on your blouse. Forcing you to go bare chest. "I want you (Y/N)." He moaned in your ear. His voice commanding, almost hypnotic. Making you shudder to your very being. Peter was irresistible right now. Too cute for words. Grinding his hips into your grasp, but also against your groin.

"I need you, Peter."

"L-Let's do it." He pants, struggling to get his pants off. And as soon as he gets his off, he looks at you, before loosening yours. Releasing your raging boner into the wild. Seating himself back onto you. You try to grind both cocks in your hands. But Peter has a different idea, flipping on his back. He wanted more.

“C-Can you…” He moans. “-touch me?” You sink deeper into the couch by his weight pressing down on you, angling your hips forward. As Peter climbs on top of you, anchoring his right arm around your neck. And resting his warm, masculine back against your body. Resting himself on top of you gave you such a beautiful view down his abs, onto his erection. He slowly sinks down, his ass cheeks guiding its way to your cock. You feel yourself harden even more. At this point, despite his enthusiasm, you can tell he’s nervous. “Are you sure about this, Peter?” Pressing gentle kisses down the side of his neck. Letting your fingers brush every inch of his skin. Peter completely lost in bliss by your touch. Whimpering as you caress his abs and pecs. You realize you’ve never been harder before.

"Y-Yeah…" He pants. "I want you…" Tilting his head towards you, searching for your lips, kissing you slow and passionate. "Yes… (Y/N). Please."

With one hand, you slick your length nice and wet. Making yourself ready for him. You watch for Peter's reaction as you place your tip at his hole. Pushing lightly against the resistance. Peter just moans, closing his eyes. Shuddering on top of you.  

"Talk to me." You whisper. "Does it hurt?" You watch him smile in response. Spreading his legs a bit further.

"N-No, it feels really good." He grins. "It… turns me on." Biting his lower lip.

"Good…" You stroke his length a few times. Making him whimper by your touch. Peter, on top of you, made you feel his every shudder and shake. Giving you a perfect insight into his level of pleasure. "Enjoy it." Before continuing to rub your tip along his ass cheeks. Softening up his flesh. With your fingers, you try to pry his little hole open a bit. Making it wet and ready.

"Put it in me..." He asks, breathing somewhat heavy.

You begin to push against his resistance. Trying to fit in the first few inches. You steady him on top of you. Watching his masculine torso heave up and down made you even harder.

"That’s it…!" He groans hard. "I... c-can feel you." He gasps. His ass cheeks clenching around your tip the moment you enter. Gripping around your tip tightly. You have to calm yourself down, closing your eyes, holding down your breath. Feeling his sphincter grip you so tightly was difficulty not cum already.

From your point of view, you can already see the sweat glistening on his body. You slowly begin to ease into him, your hand kneading into his chest, trying to make him relax. “It's so big…” He groans.

“It’s alright, Peter.” You keep touching him, softening him up. “Keep breathing.” He begins to push down on your cock. All without your help. Forcing you to slide deeper into him. His insides are warm and welcoming, the sensation enveloping. You halt for a moment, rubbing softly on his skin. Seeing his nipples rock hard turns you on incredibly. "How's that feel?"

"A…mazing." He gasps, his head falling backward. "G-Give it to me… please…"

“I’m going slow, Pete.” As you begin to move, his face a mix of pain and, seemingly, a bit of pleasure changes to a wide-open gasping mouth.

His breathing hitches with each thrust, you bring your mouth to his chest. With your tongue, teasing his chest. Stroking your tongue along his rippling chest. Circling his nipple, flicking it, before taking in-between your lips. Slowly suckling down onto it. Gasps of pleasure echo from his mouth as you continue by teasing his body.  

Despite his soft moans, seeing Peter this flustered on top of you actually makes him look even cuter. You can tell he’s feeling good. His face contorted in what you can tell is pure pleasure. Whatever you’re doing seems to be working as his ass tightens on you. “You’re doing great, Peter.”

Going faster, his grip around your neck strengthens. You feel him shudder, his ass tightening up on you. “It… feel so good.” He groans loudly. “I… can’t hold it… much longer…”

"Shoot it for me." You moan into his ear. While you watch him stroke his cock. His movement become jolted and irregular. You run your hands gently along with his abs, your mouth giving long, luscious sucks on his nipples. Peter was one panting mess, he loved his body being touched like this.

"I… I can't…" He stutters, his arms falling to his side. You watch as his cock twitch at each of your thrusts. You seize the moment and wrap your fingers around his meaty length. You have to be careful not to cum yourself already. Touching him like this. Sliding the wet ridges of his cock through your hand.

"Cum for me." You continue to tease him. "I want to see you covered in it, Peter."

His eyes widened in disbelief. Watching you as one panting and moaning mess. Desperate for release.

"Drench that beautiful body." That single comment made him clench around you tight. You see his toes curl, hip bucking against yours. Shaking. Shuddering. Accompanied by a loud growl of release and pleasure. He jolts forwards, gasping for air. As you thrust deep into him again and again. Your strokes on his cock, matching your thrusts. Feeling his cock spasm in your hand. Releasing a jet of cum on himself. Each push of your length, making him squirt more and further. Draining every drop from him. Until he falls back into your embrace. Spent and satisfied. Panting long and hard with his eyes shut tight. His body covered in wetness. Small trembles follow. His hand running across his muscled body. Feeling the wetness.

"Fuck…" You breathe heavily. Trying to hold it together. "That was hot." Connecting your lips with his shoulder and neck. Your tongue catching the taste of his wetness.

"I love you…" He says in a shuddering voice. "So… m-much." The largest smile stretching across his face. Kissing you slow and sensual.

His rolling hips distracted you immediately from continuing to grace his warm skin with your lips.   "A-Are you close?" He whispers to you.

"Yeah." You nod enthusiastically. Clenching your hands tight on his body. All warm and wet. Using whatever strength you have left to push him up and down your cock. You watch in amazement how his muscles stretch and bulge. Tense and relax. The size of his those thighs. The rippling muscles beneath the touch of your finger. God, he is so masculine, so complete. You feel overwhelmed. Short of breath. His proportions leaving you speechless.

Peter may be a bit inexperienced at it. But at this moment. This movement. The roll of his hips. Slow and steady. The angle on which he grinds down on your cock. So smooth and sensual. Swirling your cock through his wet, stretched insides. His flesh squeezing around your rock hard, pulsing member. Hugging it like you never felt before. While his breath fanned across your skin. Softly stifling groans by your penetration. Hugging you close.

"Keep going…" You groan. "Just like that…" Feeling your climax rise quick. Peter's insides felt smoother than before. You can't help but praise him more and more. Guiding you closer to your climax. The sight of his cock stiffening before you, makes you reach your high in no-time. Announced by a groan of pleasure and ecstasy, a load of cum erupts from your cock. You pull him close against you. Rutting into him. Filling his insides with your warm load.

Only the sound of heavy breathing, licking of lips, and tired moans. Followed by a burst of giggles. Peter still on top. You wrap your arms around his torso. Slowly sliding flat onto the couch. "Peter…" You whisper. "Something sparked yesterday, didn't it?" Biting your lower lip as he looks up at you with this cute smile. "I mean… look at that smile.” Your fingers gently playing with his ravaged curls.

He rolls onto your chest, laying his head to rest on his crossed arms. Releasing a content sigh. Dreamy eyes staring at you. "You make me smile (Y/N)." One finger tracing the lines of your collarbone.

You just love looking at him like this. Watching him absentmindedly circle his fingers on your skin. "I've grown to love you (Y/N). Everything about you is perfect. Your charm, your smile. You as a person. You're perfect in every way." Slight blushes forming on his cheeks. "I feel nervous, just looking at you." He giggles softly.

"Peter…" Cupping his cheek. "You're not the only one." Pressing your lips on his. "I love you so much."

“Will you tell mister St-…” He stops mid-sentence, his eyes glance up at you for a second. Realizing his mistake, as his smile grew larger. “-your dad about us? And your plans?”

"Yes… Yes, I will." For a moment, your thoughts wander off, imagining a rather uncomfortable conversation with Tony about you and Peter. "I know what I want." Brushing a few curls from his forehead, as Peter is obsessed with tracing his finger on your body. “Can you promise me one thing, Peter?”

“Wh-…?” Rising from your chest, seeing a bit of worry in your expression. “What is it, (Y/N)?”

“Please be safe.”

“I always am.” He smiles thinly. “Especially now that I have you.”

“For real, Peter. The Spider-Man stuff scares me.

“You really are the sweetest, (Y/N).” Peter shuffles closer onto you, leaning in to press a kiss on your lips. “I know what you mean. But don’t you worry. I’ll be extra careful.”

"I fear the day you don’t come home, Peter. I've seen it with my dad. I… I just want you to be safe… with me.” Pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Will you promise me you'll stay here?" Before you want to answer his question, his finger silences your lips. "Yes, or No?" He smiles.

"Yes… I'll stay here… If you come live with me." You watch his reaction, his smile growing. "Can you imagine comin-..."

Mid-sentence your cut off by his lips on yours. Passionate and strong. His hands holding onto your cheeks.

“Yes…” He mutters into the kiss with a big smile. “I… want… nothing more… than…to be …with you… every… single… day.” His body grinding against yours. Feeling him grow. "I want to be with you (Y/N).” Seeing the goosebumps rise on your skin, his hands roving on your skin. “You like that?” He smirks. Continuing to tease you.

"I like you, Peter." You groan by his tease. "With the whole of my heart." Tossing him on his back on the couch. Peter being much stronger, rolled you back.

“Let’s go to… our bedroom.” His smirks.