#Jersey my gorgeous king

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

Oh my god ok so if y’all know me and neen you know that not only are we Internet Married and also constantly in Wife Jail, BUT!!!

We also both have cat ocs in one of our respective aus.

So I had an intrusive Thot about Curb from (rem)ember meeting Moose from the OrangeJuiceVerse, which led to me thinking… what would happen if rm style met ojv style? Chaos, that’s what

Jesus so idk how ojverse style got dropped into rm canon, but like they just APPEAR in the ravesey house and it’s so unserious bc Raven and his emo boy flair is all in his bleached hair pentagram belly button ring metal shirt tattooed up vibe and OJV Stan is just staring at him all clean cut all american boy in the Hike Bc People Suck shirt with his handful of tats hidden just like?? Why does this guy kinda look like me??? And the Kyles are both holding the cats but THATS where the similarities end!!!

And Jersey, my smart/smartass KING immediately puts two and two together and goes “good GAHD WHY is this alternate timeline me SHORT?” and ojv Kyle is like “dude you talk like my mom”

Like names are exchanged and they gotta work together to get ojv style back to their universe and stuff, but that introduction is SO funny. The Stan’s are over here gushing over each other like “oh my god you’re a ROCKSTAR?!? That so cool!” And “you work with animals that’s ~wowza~ oh! Are you best friends with Kenny in your world?” “Besides Ky yeah” lmfao they’re just bonding over being them and as the convo gets deeper ravens like “dude sry if this is too personal is your kyle all hot and demanding in bed?” And OJV Stan is all woah there’s a dom kyle out there? “I mean, sometimes? I think he has a praise kink if that’s what you’re talking about, don’t tell him I said that tho” smh it’s so fuckin hilarious if you’re familiar w ojv and rm nsfw hcs because nothing is common there besides our boys being down horrendous. And the STANS omg vegetarian legends and then Raven finds out ojv Stan is a few years sober and he’s so stoked it’s so cute

Meanwhile the Kyles are super serious trying to figure out what happened and poor Jersey is so put off by Kyle’s energy he’s just too friendly to an essential stranger and Jersey does NAUGHT trust that, his eyes are narrowed behind the sun and moon chain glasses the whole time and ojv kyle is just focused on the similarities like at least we’re dressed similarly and both with stan in our universes :) optimistic slay and then he’s like “so what’s your cats name?” “It’s Curb, you gotta problem?” “Dude, no, ours is Moose.”

And Curb and Moose are just on the ground staring at each other occasionally meowing back and forth and Curb (orange bastard man I’d die for him) is like WHAT is this thing while Moose is all I can Fix Him

Live laugh love rp/neen crossovers

[slut4celebs]

Jersey Swap

Sabrina Carpenter x Reader

Word Count: 1,056 words

Trigger Warnings: nothing but a lot of cute fluff imo, I know nothing about soccer so I left that part kind of short and looked up random players.

Request/Synopsis: "i was thinking like the reader is a really good and famous soccer/football player. Maybe like her a sabrina are in a secret relationship and havent told the public yet so sabrina comes to one of her games wearing her jersey. Then maybe reader goes to her concert and like comes on stage or something idk." - A fic in which Sabrina wears R's to a game and (Y/n) wears a custom made Sabrina jersey to her show.

Requests are open. < Please guys, I'm begging.

Sabrina Carpenter and (Y/n) (L/n) had decided to keep their relationship private over the course of a year due to the backlash over Sabrina's last few relationships and (Y/n) being a much private relationship. However, this was proving to be harder as time has gone on, and they've been wanting to actually go out on dates together or hold hands in public. It was something they had to discuss, but they finally figured out how they would come out as a couple to the fans without giving up their full privacy or hardlaunching on social media. They chose a more demure way to get their point across without giving too many details away or letting the media comment on their posts.

It started with (Y/n)'s soccer game. Sabrina attended with her best friend, Joey King. She wore a custom made jersey with (Y/n)'s last name on it. At one point, during the game, (Y/n) even blew Sabrina a kiss. It was in the little moments, if someone was paying close enough attention, they'd catch it. And saying as women's soccer had a majority of gay watchers, someone was bound to catch up on it pretty soon. Sabrina blew a kiss back, making (Y/n) grin before the coach yelled for her to get her head in the game. Lucky for her, her face was too red from running for it to be too obvious she was blushing from being reprimanded. After the game, (Y/n), Sabrina, and Joey (as well as a few teammates) were pictured at a restaurant.

The next night, there wasn't incredibly commotion on Sabrina and (Y/n). Only a few people caught onto their charade, but their posts weren't reaching anyone yet. (Y/n) pulled on her custom Sabrina Carpenter jersey, lying on her girlfriend's bed. When Sabrina got out of the restroom, having just put on some make-up for soundcheck, she grinned. "I love that on you," she commented happily, leaning down to kiss her girlfriend, who reciprocated the kiss happily. (Y/n) was, admittedly, a sucker for her girlfriend's kisses. She was enamored by everything Sabrina was. She was incredible on stage and off. (Y/n) couldn't help the way she simply admired her girlfriend to the fullest.

At the show, (Y/n) was in a special section alongside her teammate, Naomi Girma. While Girma had some merch on, it was (Y/n) who adorned the custom jersey and had a big kiss mark on her cheek, put there by Sabrina. It was the transition from Dumb & Poetic where Sabrina is pretending to arrest someone from the crowd. That someone happened to be (Y/n). "Um, excuse me, everyone, but do you see that girl in my jersey? Next to that soccer player. Her name is (Y/n)…" She said coyly, being extra flirty on stage. "Girls, girls… See that girl? She's under arrest for being too hot and sexy." She said with a fake pout to her dancers. One holding up pink, fluffy handcuffs. (Y/n) laughed and blushed as Girma shoved her shoulders playfully.

"Oh, my gosh… Ladies, I just… She's so gorgeous that I'm thinking so many inappropriate thoughts right now and- oh my gosh my clothes. My clothes are falling off just with her looking at me." She said, the bottom half of her skirt falling off, leaving her in a shorter skirt. "Jeez, that's so embarrassing… It just falls off when my girlfriend looks at me, guys. Like I'm just so in love, you know? I'll hold onto these for later, baby." She took the handcuffs, smirking slightly when she announced that they were girlfriend's, the agreed upon approach that left (Y/n)'s cheeks burning. She didn't realize it would make her blush so much.

As Juno played, (Y/n) couldn't take her eyes off Sabrina, knowing full well many cameras were on her. Once the show was over, she and Girma were escorted backstage to meet with Sabrina. She hugged her girlfriend, kissing her. "When you said you were going to call me your girlfriend on stage, I wasn't expecting that." She flicked her shoulder playfully, a huge grin decorating her lips as she looked over her mischievous girlfriend.

Sabrina had an impish smile on her face, holding up the handcuffs playfully. (Y/n) blushed darker as Girma snorted at the scene in front of her. "That's your own fault. I told you to I was going to do it in a very 'me' way." She responded, earning two hands up in surrender from (Y/n) because, after all, she was right. She did say she was going to do in her way. And. knowing Sabrina, she was going to make it comedic. She just didn't expect to actually be a part of the show. It was funny though, and she liked it. She especially didn't mind Sabrina telling the world that she was "so in love" either.

"Right, right. Well, come on. We have to get Naomi home on time. She has a curfew." She teased her friend, Girma rolling her eyes. As the three walked out, they made their way through a special exit. That didn't mean that they weren't bombarded with a few fans regardless. The fans who waited wanted several pictures of Sabrina and (Y/n) together, and Naomi was happy to not be as in the spotlight, as it was overwhelming just as an onlooker.

The next morning, the 'Jersey Swap,' as it was deemed was being reported everyone. Those who captured Sabrina and Joey at (Y/n)'s game (and the two of them blowing kisses) might now be experiencing newfound TikTok fame having witnessed the beginning of Sabrina and (Y/n) going public. The two laughed as they went through the TikToks, ignoring any negative ones. "Looks like we're out in the world, now." (Y/n) said before they shared a kiss. They decided not to make a post about each other, agreeing to only share pictures on special occasions, such as, their birthdays and anniversaries. They still wanted to remain private. Only now, if they wanted to go out, it wouldn't be a secret that they were together. It was just them going out. It was a new feeling that flooded the two as they basked in each other's presence.

[thelasttime]

surprise songs - eras tour

3/17 - glendale, arizona : “mirrorball” and “tim mcgraw”

3/18 - glendale, arizona: “this is me trying” and “state of grace”

3/24 - las vegas, nevada: “our song” and “snow on the beach”

3/25 - las vegas, nevada: “cowboy like me” and “white horse”

3/31 - arlington, texas: “sad beautiful tragic” and “ours”

4/1 - arlington, texas: “death by a thousand cuts” and “clean”

4/2 - arlington, texas: “jump then fall” and “the lucky one”

4/13 - tampa, florida: “speak now” and “treacherous”

4/14 - tampa, florida: “the great war” and “you’re on your own kid”

4/15 - tampa, florida: “mad woman” and “mean”

4/21 - houston, texas: “wonderland” and “you’re not sorry”

4/22 - houston, texas: “a place in this world” and “today was a fairytale”

4/23 - houston, texas: “begin again” and “cold as you”

4/28 - atlanta, georgia: “the other side of the door” and “coney island”

4/29 - atlanta, georgia: “high infidelity” and “gorgeous”

4/30 - atlanta, georgia: “i bet you think about me” and “how you get the girl”

5/5 - nashville, tennessee: “sparks fly” and “teardrops on my guitar”

5/6 - nashville, tennessee: “out of the woods” and “fifteen”

5/7 - nashville, tennessee: “would’ve, could’ve, should’ve” and “mine”

5/12 - philadelphia, pennsylvania: “gold rush” and “come back…be here”

5/13 - philadelphia, pennsylvania: “forever & always” and “this love”

5/14 - philadelphia, pennsylvania: “hey stephen” and “the best day”

5/19 - foxborough, massachusetts: “should’ve said no” and “better man”

5/20 - foxborough, massachusetts: “…question?” and “invisible”

5/21 - foxborough, massachusetts: “i think he knows” and “red”

5/26 - east rutherford, new jersey: "getaway car" and "maroon"

5/27 - east rutherford, new jersey: “holy ground” and “false god”

5/28 - east rutherford, new jersey: "welcome to new york" and "clean"

6/2 - chicago, illinois: "i wish you would" and "the lakes"

6/3 - chicago, illinois: "you all over me" and "i don't wanna live forever"

6/4 - chicago, illinois: “hits different” and “the moment i knew”

6/9 - detroit, michigan: "haunted" and "i almost do"

6/10 - detroit, michigan: "all you had to do was stay" and "breathe"

6/16 - pittsburgh, pennsylvania: "mr. perfectly fine" and "the last time"

6/17 - pittsburgh, pennsylvania: "seven" and "the story of us"

6/23 - minneapolis, minnesota: “paper rings” and “if this was a movie”

6/24 - minneapolis, minnesota: “dear john” and “daylight”

6/30 - cincinnati, ohio: "i'm only me when i'm with you" and "evermore"

7/1 - cincinnati, ohio: “ivy,” “i miss you, i’m sorry,” and “call it what you want”

7/7 - kansas city, missouri: “never grow up” and “when emma falls in love”

7/8 - kansas city, missouri: “last kiss” and “dorothea”

7/14 - denver, colorado: “picture to burn” and “timeless”

7/15 - denver, colorado: “starlight” and “back to december”

7/22 - seattle, washington: “this is why we can’t have nice things” and “everything has changed”

7/23 - seattle, washington: "tied together with a smile" and "message in a bottle"

7/28 - santa clara, california: “right where you left me” and “castles crumbling”

7/29 - santa clara, california: “stay stay stay” and “all of the girls you loved before”

8/3 - los angeles, california: "i can see you" and "maroon"

8/4 - los angeles, california: "our song" and "you are in love"

8/5 - los angeles, california: “death by a thousand cuts” and “you’re on your own kid”

8/6 - los angeles, california: "i know places" and "king of my heart"

8/7 - los angeles, california: "new romantics" and "new year's day"

8/24 - mexico city, mexico: "i forgot that you existed" and "sweet nothing"

8/25 - mexico city, mexico: "tell me why" and "snow on the beach"

[theemporium]

Could you do a James Potter c reader smut pls

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

James Potter wasn’t quite sure how he got into this situation but he wasn’t complaining.

The roars of the crowds and the thrill of their win was still buzzing through his body as they marched into the common room, holding the Quidditch Cup above their heads like they were kings and queens. 

It had taken less than fifteen minutes after Gryffindor had won the final match that confirmed their win before the common room had been turned into a party scene with balloons and streamers and smuggled bottles of booze shared amongst the group. 

It had taken even less time for James to be roped into some drinking games because he was competitive down to his bone and he would be damned if he let Sirius beat him at shotgunning a can of beer they had smuggled in through the muggle world.

And then somehow between the drinking and the dancing and the celebrating with his team and house, James’ eyes caught yours and it was like a quick spiral from there. 

One minute he was staring at you from across the room and the next he was dancing with your back pressed against his front, your ass grinding against his dick. Then you were kissing in the middle of the common room, only for you to take his hand and guide him somewhere a little more quiet. Then before his brain could even catch up, you were sinking down on your knees in front of him, your wide eyes gleaming up at his dumbstruck expression. 

“The captain deserves a reward, no?”

James gulped. “I thought the trophy was my reward.”

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked, brows raised in question as you reached for his belt buckle but the boy quickly shook his head. “Words, Potter.” 

“I, uh, I want this,” he stuttered out, his cheeks burning red as you tugged his zip down. 

“Anything for you, captain,” you murmured with a smirk on your lips as you pulled his cock free from his confinements, stroking his length until a small bead of precum oozed from the tip and then you took him in your mouth.

James was about ninety percent convinced that this was some wet dream he was going to kick himself from waking up from in a few moments. Between the Quidditch Cup win and the pretty girl sucking his cock whilst she swore his jersey number on her back, he swore this was only something his deepest desires could conjure up. 

But then you were moaning around his cock, reminding him that this was very real and his hands were tangled in your hair as he fucked your mouth. 

“Fuck, you look gorgeous with my cock in your mouth, darling,” he groaned, his thighs clenching as your nails dug into his skin, but he enjoyed the bite of pain. “You like having your mouth full, hm? Bet you fucking love when I fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”

You could only moan around his cock in response. 

He could barely take it anymore as he looked down at you, only to find you already staring at him with glossy eyes, tears pooling and threatening to fall down your cheeks. He noticed the way your hips rocked aimlessly, the idea that you were enjoying this as much as he was was enough to tip him over the edge as he shot into your mouth. 

His head fell back against the wall, his lips parting as he groaned out your name as he came. His chest was heaving as he took a second to ground himself before he looked down at you, seeing you swipe your thumb to catch any of his release that you had missed and fuck, that had to be one of the hottest things he had ever seen.

“Fucking hell, darling, you’re gonna kill a man,” he murmured as his hooded eyes focused on the way your thighs clenched together to try ease your own desire.

“I’ll take that as a compliment to my blowjob skills,” you retorted, making his lips twitch in amusement. 

“Let me return the favour, baby,” he said to you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. 

You raised your brows. “You ready to go again so soon, Potter?”

His smile was wolfish as he responded. “Oh baby, I plan to have you come on my face at least two times before I fuck you with my cock.”

.

[jotaroslooseeyebrowhair]

(un)dead beat dad (Chapter 1)

I hope you all suffer as much as my beta readers do, love you guys @justagaygoosehoard and @le-maidenless

and for those of you who wanted to be tagged, enjoy :) @starkcravingmad @terzatheunderscorerima @sunsetdew0101 @onyxlightdragon @ace-aro-agender @roseinbloom02 @aikoiya @blacksea21090 @the-legal-shipper @paperlicense687 @cursedchaosboys @corfinnsunrise @ascetic-orange @eonic @frostedthroughghost @readerkayden @reach-for-the-horizon @xno-more-smilesx @undead-essence @bluebeariis

edit: please ignore my misspellings im super sick :)

Danny spits blood onto the floor of the tower he was in, his hand pressed against the cuts in his chest, barely holding himself together. He cursed as he felt the ice melting around his chest and dripping to the floor. With a shaky breath, he froze it up again, not as thick this time though. Damn. Danny stood, using the wall to stabilize himself. Smearing his glowing green blood all over the wall. He stumbled up the stairs, spilling puddles of green throughout his walk. He got to the top and fell into the door, black impeding his vision as the large blue-skinned figure floated towards him. “Heya clocky,” Danny whispered with a wet chuckle as he lost consciousness fully, slumping to the floor in a pile of green blood as the white rings encompassed his body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fuck” clockwork said out loud. Somehow, some way, he had not seen this reality. I mean, of course, he had seen the realities where the Fentons had reacted… badly… to say the least. And of course, he had seen the realities where Danny ventured into the ghost zone to find help, hell he had seen every single one and ancients did his heart ache at those. But this? Clockwork hadn’t seen a reality where Danny came to him. How had he not seen that? How had he glossed over that reality? Maybe if he went back through all of those again and tried another time, maybe he could see what he was supposed to do to stop this, maybe he could see what direction he was supposed to go, maybe he could see what he's supposed to do now-

A cough cut him out of his thinking. For once, time is the thing he didn’t have. He thought quickly, what was he supposed to do? He can’t take care of Danny himself, and Danny wont last much longer if he just stays here thinking but ancients what is he supposed to do…. Clockwork snaps his fingers and carefully picks Danny up in a bridal carry, careful not to upset the angry-looking Y-shaped wound on his chest bleeding through his torn medical scrubs. Clockwork waved his staff the best he could while holding Danny, making a portal, and floating through.

~~~~~~~~~

Gotham had been having a wonderful night. Her knights had taken down more than a few of her least favorite assholes, and, as a reward, she made the sky a bit more clear. She loved when those stars shone through her sky. Well, her night had been going well, until she felt a familiar portal open up behind her. 

“Ahhhh, my favorite stuck-up bastard. How's it going clockwork? Time treating you well?” She said in her sweet new-jersey accent; snickering and smiling at her pun, taking a drag of her cigarette. Holding the opera-length cigarette holder just past her lips, she blew out the smoke. She rested her other hand on her hip, her sparkling sangria-colored dress flowing over her plump hips. She turned around, her gorgeous crown of black corkscrew curls coming together in a beautiful afro, bouncing as she looked at clockwork. She took a moment to assess the bleeding boy in his arms before looking clockwork in his ruby eyes. “Clockwork, love, what the fuck.”

Clockwork sighed and floated toward Gotham. “This boy… This is the king. He was attacked in his own home by his guardians. He came to me but… but I've never seen this timeline. I wasn’t sure what to do with the boy, but I knew you had knights that could protect him.” Clockwork stared down at the boy in his arms. Gotham took a moment to digest the new information.

“The king, his majesty phantom, is this boy?” Gotham asked, disbelief clear in her voice, Clockwork only nodded and held out the boy to Gotham. 

“Yes, he is. I don’t have anyone else to bring him to. I’ll make this easier on you, as thanks.” Clockwork said, handing Danny to Gotham. Gotham flicked the cigarette and its holder out of existence, her feathered boa tickling the boy now in her arms.

“A bit scrawny, is he not?” She smiled lovingly down at the boy king. Clockwork smiled at the two and brought his hand to Dannys' head, a deep blue glow found its way between his hand and the boy king. Gotham stared in wonder as Danny shrunk in her arms. She looked at Clockwork in disbelief for a moment. “Clockwork, I usually do not question your ways, but what are you doing this for?”

“All as it should be. Good luck Danny.” Clockwork smiled and patted the small boys black hair, though it was caked in blood.

Gotham looked down at the boy in her arms, “Daniel. A name fit for a king. Now, I know exactly which of my knights to bring you to. No need to worry your highness, He will take care of you as none else have.” She turned her head to where clockwork was with a thank you on her lips, seeing he already left. She huffed in annoyance and turned towards the streets of her city, she knows exactly where her knight is.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason was having one hell of a night. I mean, the muggings, a robbery, and the riddler? A great night, really. Well, his patrol was finally over, so he crawled through the fire escape to his house and stilled at the chill in the air. Someone else was in his apartment. Jason swung his arm around, pistol cocked and ready to fire, pointing at…. Nothing? A huff of laughter came from the too-dark shadows in the corners of his living room. A tall woman with deep ebony skin sashayed her way from the shadows, a gorgeous dress hugging her thick curves in all the best ways. She smiled at Jason and held the boy in her arms higher, so Jason could see him.

“My knight. I have a request of you, a friend of mine has placed this boy in my care, but I know nothing of raising children.” Jason tried to cut her off with a ‘you think I know jack-shit about kids either???’ but she shushed him with a wave of her hand as she laid the small boy on his beat-up couch. “Of all of my knights, I have deemed you to be the most well-suited to take on this task. This is Daniel, High King of the Infinite Realms. Though he looks younger than he truly is, do not underestimate him. He needs medical attention and someplace to call home. You, Jason, are the best and only option for this task.” Jason stood there dumbfounded. Who the fuck does this lady think she is? Coming out of nowhere giving him a kid and talking to him as if she knew him? And she knows his secret identity! 

Jason went to say something but found no words on his tongue as the woman before him dissolved into smoke before his eyes, leaving a bloody kid on his couch. Jason sighed and took off his mask, leaving only his domino. “Well, fuck me I guess” He ran his fingers through his sweaty hair and took off his jacket. Who on earth was that? And how did she disappear like that? How on earth did she get into his apartment? Why did she leave a bloody kid- oh fuck the kid-

Jason stopped what he was doing and stared at the bloody kid on his couch. The kid looked bout six, if he had to guess, but was far too skinny for a healthy six-year-old. Jason paced over silently and let his eyes wander over the small boy. Jason breathed out a small ‘fuck’ and bent down to where the kid's eyes were and tapped his shoulder… nothing. He tapped again and a small groan escaped the boy, huh. Jason gently shook the boy and watched as the small boy's eyes fluttered open to reveal an icy blue. The kid took a moment to adjust, as he glanced around the room, his eyes landing on Jason. Immediately, the boy jumped up, falling over the backside of the couch with a loud thump, scooting to the wall behind him. Well… that wasn’t, exactly what Jason was expecting. Loud heaving breaths were heard behind the couch and jason crawled around, to peak at the boy. As soon as his eyes found the kid, his breath hitched in his throat. That's a lot of blood.

“Hey bud,” Jason started softly, “your names Danny, right?” He asked. Jason tried to scoot closer but when the bleeding boy in front of him moved he stopped. The boy Danny glanced over Jason, taking a minute to observe him before deeming Jason safe, nodding his head yes.

“Well, I’m Red Hood, nice to meet you. A friend of yours dropped you off with me, said you're a king or something?” Jason said slowly, lowering himself to sitting criss-cross on the floor. Danny blushed heavily in front of Jason. 

“They… they said that?” Danny said, his voice squeaking out. Danny looked confused for a second and quickly glanced down at his body, ‘he's so small’ Jason thought. Apparently, Danny thought the same as he looked at his body in confusion flipping his hands over in front of his eyes. Jason moved again snapping the boys’ attention back to him.

“So, Danny, Your friend said that you needed some help and that I could help you out. If you trust this friend, I’ll trust them too. You don’t have to trust me right away, but know I’ll help you out the best I can, okay? Sound good?” Jason said, turning his palms flat up to show he wasn’t a threat. Danny took a second to think about it and nodded his head again, slowly, but hey a yes is a yes.

“Alright, kid, we need to get you patched up, I have a friend who can get you fixed right up-” Jason was cut off by the boy frantically shaking his head

“oookay, uh, no hospitals?” Jason guessed. 

A slow nod. 

“My friend’s clinic?” 

A shake.

“Well, I can't do it myself…” Jason smiled in realization “What about my grandpa? He patches me up when I’m out on patrol, that sound good kid?”

There was a moment of silence. Jason was thinking he might have to just call Alfred at this point when the kid hesitantly nodded. Jason let out a sigh. “Alright kid, I’m gonna have to carry you there, okay? “ another nod. Jason scolded over and carefully scooped Danny up in his arms and walked over to his still-open window and crawled out.

“I’ll be as careful as I can, alright? Let me know if anything hurts.” Danny nodded again and Jason carefully hopped off his fire escape, he wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

Chapter 2

[milawritesstuff]

pedri’s gf being treated like a princess and also being a pillow princess please 🙏🏻

A/N: Him playing today just gave me so much inspiration lol.

Warnings: Smut

•••

Pedri walked out of the match trying to get back to the locker room. But before he could head back he was pushed over to give interviews. He had just played his 100th match with Barça and had scored the only goal of the match.

Sometime later he finally made his way to the locker room and his face lit up when he turned on his phone and saw all of your texts coming in.

-Great match, my star boy 💫

-Your 100th game played like a true king 👑

-Te quiero

Pablo changing next to him began to laugh. -You’re so whipped Pedri.

Pedri turned over to his friend and threw a light punch against his chest.

-We will see when you find someone.

-What happened to being too young for a girlfriend? - Taunted Gavi.

-I also said you couldn’t force anything and this just happened.

Gavi have a slight pat on Pedri’s head and walked away leaving Pedri finally time to call you. Since the match had ended you had been anxiously waiting for your phone to ring.

-Pedri. - you said into the phone with a smile.

-Princesa.

-Congratulations, my star boy. You played amazing.

Pedri laughed . -Te hecho de menos.-

-I miss you too, Pedri. What time will you be home?

-It’s too late for us to head back, I think. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow morning.

-But Girona is only about an hour away.

-Rules are rules princesa.

-You know, the yellow kit looks amazing on you. -You said nervously. Can you wear that tomorrow?

-Only if you don’t wear anything. - He responded with a chuckle.

A few seconds later you hung up and went to bed. You couldn’t wait for Pedri to come back home. He had left you extremely needy with how gorgeous he looked during the match and you wanted nothing more than to be in between his arms.

Hours later you were woken up by noise in the room. When you opened your eyes he was standing over the bed in his yellow jersey.

You smiled. -Pedri.-

He smiled back and got into the bed. He planted a small kiss on your forehead but before you could kiss him back he moved himself down your body. He went under the covers.

-All I could think about after we hung up was having you here, like this. Open your legs for me. - he said as he began to kiss your inner thighs.

He slowly grabbed your underwear from either side and slowly began to slide it off.

-I love how these look on you, but love it even more how they look off of you.- he whispered as he threw your underwear somewhere on the floor of his room.

His lips began to leave small kisses from your feet all the way up to your thighs. Before getting to your core Pedri looked up and stared at you with his beautiful brown eyes. You looked at him with your mouth open because you wished you could keep this view of him forever engraved in your memories.

You closed your eyes and that’s when you felt Pedri’s tongue on you. He started off slowly as his hands grabbed your ass and pulled you towards him causing his tongue to go in deeper.

A moan with his name escaped your lips as you arched your back in pleasure. One of your hands grabbed his hair while the other grabbed onto the bedsheet. He groaned.

His tongue was majestic. It felt soft and delicious against you. As you laid there taking all of the pleasure in you were startled when Pedri introduced two of his fingers in you.

—Pedri.- You moaned as you began to move your hips. He looked up but his tongue never lost contact with you. You continued to move your hips against his mouth and eventually began to feel the friction of his beard against you. Without hesitation you continued to move against his face. You heard him moan your name.

The sheer view of him in between your legs, with his rosy cheeks and his frazzled hair was enough to send you into overdrive. He continued to move his tongue in and out of you causing you to moan.

-Pedri.- you said as he looked up at you.

-Come up.- he quickly moved himself up and you sat up facing him. He lifted your shirt over your head and his eyes lit up when he saw you were wearing nothing underneath. His mouth immediately went to suck your nipples as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You motioned for him to take his shirt off. You needed to see his bare chest and chiseled abs.

-I thought you wanted me to wear it.- he said with a smirk.

-And now I want you to take it off. - you said as you bit your lip. -It’s done it’s job.-

You slowly helped Pedri take the shirt off leaving him bare in front of you. He looked at you and licked his lips.

-You’re beautiful, you know that princesa?- he said causing you to smile.

-I think you’ve told me a few hundred thousand times.- you joked. Pedri laughed and went in to kiss you.

-You have no idea how lucky I am to have you.- he whispered as his lips touched yours again.

-Te quiero, my star boy.-

[dansnaturepictures]

Eight of my favourite photos I took in August 2024 and month summary: Baby steps into the shift of the seasons

The photos are of; view with a moody sky at Lakeside Country Park, young Mute Swans at Keyhaven, Jersey Tiger moth at Lakeside, Chalkhill Blue at Stockbridge Down, Common Darter at Lakeside, Roe Deer at Acres Down, harebells at Shipton Bellinger and King Alfred's cake at Fishlake Meadows.

August is a time to enjoy high summer sights including butterfly filled meadows and darting dragonflies but also a time to prepare for change into an equally exciting wild season, as subtle signs like the drawing in of the nights and emergence of berries hint at the imminent baton exchange of summer and autumn. I have really enjoyed this August to the full for wildlife, walking and photos.

In the early days as the Big Butterfly Count drew to a close I ended triumphantly observing a big increase in species such as Meadow Brown, Common Blue and Speckled Wood being around. There were some stellar additions to my butterfly year this month with Essex Skipper, Silver-spotted Skipper, Chalkhill Blue and Brown Hairstreak seen. Other standout species of a fantastic butterfly month included Brown Argus, Wall Brown, Small Heath, Small White, Brimstone, Comma, Peacock and Red Admiral. I had a marvellous month of moths centring on a phenomenon over a week or so seeing a fair few Jersey Tiger moths at different locations a species I’d only ever seen three times prior to that, a really exciting influx of this resplendent moth. I was captivated by a splendid Swallow-tailed moth at home at the month’s start, with Double-striped Pug, Wavy-barred Sable, my first ever Purple Bar, Grass-veneer, Silver Y, Small Dusty Waves and Six-spot Burnet also enjoyed. As the month went on butterflies rather made way for dragonflies to take centre stage a little, with mesmerising times watching Migrant Hawker, Southern Hawker, evocative of late summer for me Common Darter and Black-tailed Skimmer, with Beautiful Demoiselle and Blue-tailed Damselfly good to see too.

Shift in the year was evident in my birdwatching month too which was another brilliant one with some migration movement. I loved seeing Whinchats at Hook-with-Warsash, Little Stint and Curlew Sandpiper at Pennington and Osprey at Fishlake Meadows. I got some splendid views of the Peregrines at Winchester Cathedral this month, very much enjoyed the new Great Crested Grebe chicks and young Moorhens on regular walks at Lakeside Country Park and was thrilled to see adorable Mute Swan cygnets well a few times at Winnall Moors and Keyhaven in a strong year I’ve had for seeing young birds. Other highlights this month included Ravens, Jay, Red Kite, Buzzard, Marsh Harrier, Kestrel, Sparrowhawk, the last Swifts, Swallow, House Martin, Sand Martin, Stock Doves, Stonechat, Bullfinches, Great Spotted Woodpecker at Lakeside and Green Woodpecker there and heard elsewhere, Chiffchaff, Long-tailed Tit, Blue Tit and Goldfinches including young at home, a few Kingfishers, Cormorants including notably at Lakeside and Winnall Moors, Grey Heron including notably at Lakeside and in Winchester, Little Egret, Great White Egret, Spoonbills, Knot, Grey Plover, Ringed Plover, Avocet, Common Sandpiper, Dunlin, Snipe, Whimbrel, Curlew, Eiders and some Tufted Ducks including ducklings.

Other nice sightings this month included of Roe and Fallow Deers on wonderful afternoon of deers at Acres Down in the New Forest, Grey Squirrel, Common Red Soldier beetle, my first ever Tawny Longhorn beetle at Shipton Bellinger, ladybirds, pondskater with especially lots at one point at Lakeside sticking in my mind, sawflies, charming Hornet mimic hoverfly at Stockbridge Down, Yellow-haired Sunfly, other hoverflies and bees, Ichneumon wasps, Fox and Cinnabar moth caterpillars, crickets/grasshoppers including Roesel’s bush cricket, Long-winged Conehead and Common Field Grasshopper, snails at home on wet nights and gorgeous Ambersnail at Winnall Moors, Common Lizards at Magdalen Hill and Grey Silverfish and spiders at home.

Onto plants and I saw some more thrilling wildflowers this month including fairy flax, water speedwell and another speedwell, St. John’s-worts, fleabane, ragwort, bird’s-foot trefoil, forget-me-not, scarlet pimpernel, water mint, sundew, bog asphodel, hemp agrimony, purple loosestrife, great willowherb, rosebay willowherb, small-flower hairy willowherb, marjoram, wild basil, tufted vetch, vetch, viper’s-bugloss, scabiouses including fine devil’s-bit scabious, wild carrot, upright hedge-parsley, sea aster, scentless mayweed, pineappleweed, dock, self-heal, sainfoin, creeping thistle, spear thistle, woolly thistle, horseweed, common mallow, musk mallow, marsh mallow, golden samphire, nightshade, broad-leaved enchanter’s nightshade and some of my favourites centaury, restharrow, common toadflax, eyebright and endearing nodding harebells. It was amazing to see sunflowers at home in the garden a stalwart of August with the fuchsias and black-eyed Susans coming on nicely too. The aforementioned berries I really enjoyed seeing this month included loads of blackberries and hawthorn, blackthorn sloes, rowan, guelder rose berries, nightshade berries, cuckoo-pint berries, elderberries, wild service tree berries and wayfaring tree berries with apple, acorn and chestnut seen too. There were some nice mushrooms seen this month as well including King Alfred’s cake and panthercap and I took in some stunning views at various locations and habitats with epic sky scenes including moody scenes, the moon and sunsets observed. Have a great September all.

[bbygirlky18]

Mami's Breakthrough!

Chapter 1

Part 1

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Fem reader

Description: Rhea was getting tired of Finn and Damian fighting so when she arrived at the hotel she decided to take a walk when she came across this wrestling show and she met the diva who runs it and wrestles in it.

A/N: This is the for the first chapter of my fanfic Mami's Breakthrough! Enjoy.

Word Count: 662 for Part 1 (The total of the whole first chapter is 2663)

Rhea's POV: "Let's go to the hotel. I'm tired of you guys fighting." I said as I grew more pissed at Finn and Damian. The ride to the hotel was full of silence and once we arrived at the hotel the arguments started back up.

"Why is JD in Judgement Day business? It's only allowed to be Judgement members." Damian said to Finn. "JD is my friend. We've been friends forever. Plus you don't hear me complaining about you talking to Bad Bunny after you said that you would end his career at Backlash in Puerto Rico and you lost." I stopped in my tracks and grabbed my jacket, my phone, the room key, and my purse. I texted Liv Morgan and it went like this.

Rhea😈: Hey Liv. I’m going for a walk out on the town. Do you want to come? I need to get out here before I kill Finn and Damian.

Liv💙: Yeah sure. I heard that there’s this wrestling show going on right now and Trinity (Naomi) apparently knows the girl who runs it. Do you want me to invite Trin?

Rhea😈: Yeah bring her along. I could use the girl time right now. 

Liv💙: Ok. Meet us downstairs. 

Rhea😈: Ok. Bring your room keys and your purses. I’m heading downstairs right now.

Once I was done texting Liv I looked at Dominik, Finn, and Damian. I said “I’m heading out before we have to go out with WWE. Finn and Damian if you don’t get your shit together we’re gonna have problems.” I walked out of the room and I walked to the elevator and went to the first floor. While down on the first floor I saw Stephanie and Hunter and I said “Hey me, Liv and Naomi are going for a walk out on the town we’ll meet you at the bar. Is that ok?” Stephanie said “Yea don’t worry about it, Rhea. I’ll have someone text you, Liv, or Naomi when we’re at the bar and you 3 can just meet there.” I said “Ok. Thank you.” They walked off and I heard the elevator ding. I see Naomi, Liv, Jimmy, and Jey all get off the elevator. I said “Hey girls. Sup twins.” Jimmy and Jey waved. Naomi said, “I tried to tell them that it was a girl’s night for you and you wanted us to come so you can breathe and get your mind right but they told me that they are not going to let me go alone only cause of the creepy guys who are out so I just told them that they could come.” I nodded and said “That’s fine with me. I just need to get out and blow off steam before I kill Damian and Finn.”

We all left the hotel and we walked into this place that had like at least 137,379 people in it and this beautiful, gorgeous, astonishing woman walked out and said “Welcome to Eastern Oustanding Amazing Entertainment Pro Wrestling aka EOAEPW where everyone is accepted. Even though I’m the owner I will be wrestling for you tonight. My name is Gretchen Foster but my full name is Gretchen Wilhelmina Janene Dodie Foster but in the ring, I’m known as “The Nightmare Demolisher” Eliora “Evie” King. I’m glad that you’re here. Let’s get the show started. The first match scheduled for one fall is for the Demon’s Championship Belt. Introducing the champion weighing in at 6’6”, 272 lbs from Ogdensburg, New Jersey, Nathan “Quickdraw” Bernard, and introducing the challenger weighing in at 6’3”, 160lbs from Streetsboro, Ohio, Shane "Big Boy" Stone.” We sat and watched the match. Shane put up a good fight, but in the end, Nathan was able to secure the victory and retain his championship belt. After the match, Nathan celebrated with the crowd, as Shane accepted defeat with a humble nod.  Nathan and Shane embraced each other and the crowd cheered in appreciation. Nathan then thanked the crowd for their support and Shane did the same.

[andrebearakovsky]

NHL Outdoor Game Jersey Tier List

I originally had this idea back during the Stadium Series weekend when I was looking at the jerseys and comparing them to jerseys of outdoor games past. So I decided to put all the different jerseys NHL teams have worn for every outdoor game since 2003 onto a tier list (excluding the 4 jerseys that were worn in the 2 games at Tahoe, since each team just wore their reverse retro jersey and they weren't special jerseys for the event).

Some of these are absolutely gorgeous, and some are flops. I've organized them into tiers of how good they are, and an important factor in my rankings is creativity - whether or not something was original and distinct for the event or a copy of a current/former jersey had a significant impact on what tier it went in. And a note that I am only rating based on the jerseys themselves, and I'm not judging any accompanying pants, helmets, gloves, socks, etc. All of these ratings are scientific and 100% correct.

All of these pictures were taken from the NHL Uniform Database website. This is also where I looked at each team's jersey history to see which outdoor game jerseys were just a copy of another jersey.

And a note that the Coyotes, Blue Jackets, and Panthers do not have any entries on this list since none of them have ever participated in an outdoor game. (Though this will soon change! Looking forward to seeing what the Jackets do for their Stadium Series jerseys next year. And tbh they really need to give the Yotes and Panthers an outdoor game 'cause I think those teams would make some pretty nice jerseys.)

Detailed list of which exact jerseys these are (team and event) are included under the cut for reference.

Jerseys listed from left to right as seen in the image above.

Amazing - Washington Capitals 2015 Winter Classic, Minnesota Wild 2022 Winter Classic, Seattle Kraken 2024 Winter Classic, Vancouver Canucks 2014 Heritage Classic, Ottawa Senators 2014 Heritage Classic

Good - Philadelphia Flyers 2017 Stadium Series, Philadelphia Flyers 2012 Winter Classic, New York Rangers 2018 Winter Classic, Detroit Red Wings 2014 Winter Classic, Washington Capitals 2018 Stadium Series, Toronto Maple Leafs 2018 Stadium Series, Los Angeles Kings 2014 Stadium Series, Pittsburgh Penguins 2011 Winter Classic, New York Rangers 2012 Winter Classic, Ottawa Senators 2017 NHL 100 Classic, Calgary Flames 2011 Heritage Classic, St. Louis Blues 2022 Winter Classic, Buffalo Sabres 2022 Heritage Classic, San Jose Sharks 2015 Stadium Series, Los Angeles Kings 2015 Stadium Series, Boston Bruins 2010 Winter Classic, Dallas Stars 2020 Winter Classic, Winnipeg Jets 2019 Heritage Classic, Winnipeg Jets 2016 Heritage Classic, Edmonton Oilers 2023 Heritage Classic, Calgary Flames 2023 Heritage Classic, Boston Bruins 2016 Winter Classic

All you did was pull an old jersey out of the closet (with little or no changes) - St. Louis Blues 2017 Winter Classic, Washington Capitals 2011 Winter Classic, New Jersey Devils 2014 Stadium Series, Pittsburgh Penguins 2008 Winter Classic, Chicago Blackhawks 2019 Winter Classic, Chicago Blackhawks 2009 Winter Classic, Chicago Blackhawks 2014 Stadium Series, Detroit Red Wings 2009 Winter Classic, Toronto Maple Leafs 2014 Winter Classic

This is just your jersey w/ little or no modifications - Calgary Flames 2019 Heritage Classic, Anaheim Ducks 2014 Stadium Series, Montreal Canadiens 2003 Heritage Classic, Montreal Canadiens 2011 Heritage Classic, Edmonton Oilers 2016 Heritage Classic, Edmonton Oilers 2003 Heritage Classic, Philadelphia Flyers 2010 Winter Classic, Chicago Blackhawks 2015 Winter Classic, Chicago Blackhawks 2017 Winter Classic, Chicago Blackhawks 2016 Stadium Series, Minnesota Wild 2016 Stadium Series, Buffalo Sabres 2008 Winter Classic

Fine - New Jersey Devils 2024 Stadium Series, Philadelphia Flyers 2019 Stadium Series, Pittsburgh Penguins 2017 Stadium Series, New York Islanders 2024 Stadium Series, Nashville Predators 2022 Stadium Series, Carolina Hurricanes 2023 Stadium Series, Pittsburgh Penguins 2019 Stadium Series, Montreal Canadiens 2016 Winter Classic, Tampa Bay Lightning 2022 Stadium Series, Detroit Red Wings 2016 Stadium Series, Colorado Avalanche 2016 Stadium Series, Boston Bruins 2019 Winter Classic, New York Islanders 2014 Stadium Series, Boston Bruins 2023 Winter Classic, Toronto Maple Leafs 2022 Heritage Classic, Toronto Maple Leafs 2017 Centennial Classic

Can't decide whether I like it or hate it - Colorado Avalanche 2020 Stadium Series

Boring - Detroit Red Wings 2017 Centennial Classic, Montreal Canadiens 2017 NHL 100 Classic, Nashville Predators 2020 Winter Classic, Buffalo Sabres 2018 Winter Classic, Philadelphia Flyers 2024 Stadium Series, Pittsburgh Penguins 2014 Stadium Series

Awful - Washington Capitals 2023 Stadium Series, Pittsburgh Penguins 2023 Winter Classic, New York Rangers 2014 Stadium Series, Vegas Golden Knights 2024 Winter Classic, Los Angeles Kings 2020 Stadium Series, New York Rangers 2024 Stadium Series

[newyorkthegoldenage]

The September 23, 1936 edition of The New York Woman, a weekly.

Contents:

A compilation of 23 photos capturing life, east to west on Fiftieth Street - where life goes from the River Club to a west end jumping-off place

Etiquette - Heaven Forbid! - author recalls her unpleasant time at a finishing school up the Hudson

Excuse My Skates! - Full-page photo-feature of the young ladies at Western Union who wear roller skates at work

Photo-illustrated article on New York's many "Gypsy Tea Rooms" where fortunes are read, and much business is done

The Yankee at King Edward's Court - photo illustrated article on Wallis Simpson of Baltimore - who is keeping company with the King of England

A Bag of Gilded Oats for Mrs. Astor's Horse - Mr. Vincent Astor's grand plans to redo what was formerly the King Cole Room of his inn

Fashion Editor's Diary

Color centerfold fashion illustrations including details, pricing and store names

Dressing Table of the Week - pleasant and useful things in cosmetics, perfumery and flowers

Recipes for dessert salads with cheese

Margaretta Byers describes life in her family's prefabricated home - the first of its kind in New Jersey

Mirrors can make your rooms look larger and brighter

Photo feature on how Mr. Rockefeller's brand new Center Theatre is being gutted to accommodate The White Horse Inn

Photo-illustrated article on movie The Gorgeous Hussy

Page of photos of Kay Francis

Manhattan Date Book

Page of restaurant offerings - including prices

I Was Never So Mad - Kitty Sharpe describes problems with items sent to the cleaners

Photo: AnOther

[ratatatastic]

marlins last season revealead throwback thursdays and revamped the teal pinstriped uni of the florida marlins adding it to their rotation of uniforms (only for the 23 season) alongside their sugar kings city connects... intermiami recently revealed a third kit inspired by the miami dolphins and the heat alts have always looked particularly gorgeous (moreso from '17 to '20 when vicewave was more their focus)

so after the panthers dropped their retro reverses after '23 from their rotation i ask

WHEN WILL WE FUCKING GET A SICK ALT AGAIN IM TIRED IM BANGING THE WALLS OF MY ENCOLSURE PLEASE GIVE THEM TO ME WDYM WE MADE OUR 30TH ANI JERSEYS SPECIALTY AUCTION JERSEYS. CAN WE HAVE PRETTY BLUE JERSEYS AGAIN

OR IDK EVERYONES BEEN BEGGING FOR THE OLD BLUE THIRDS AGAIN. JUST ANYTHING. ANY SOFLO TEAM THAT GETS A NEW COOL UNI MAKES ME GET ANTSY BECAUSE THE CATS NEED TO DO THAT TOO PLEASE

[stusbunker]

Smoking Spirits on the Roof

Thank you to @michaelsworddean​​ for the throwback Misha pic and @talesmaniac89​​ for the divider

Featuring: Dean/Cas

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.5k

Other characters: Sam, Anna, Gabriel, Bobby/Rufus, brief mention of past Dean/Cassie, Michael, Chuck, Naomi, Samandriel, Garth, Benny, Gordon and Sam/Jess at the end.

Summary: When Dean shows up to a Halloween party, he isn’t expecting his entire world to change. But that’s what happens when he drunkenly makes out with the mysterious Castiel, a brother of a friend of a friend. Follow Dean as he navigates Cas’ world and works to be the boyfriend Cas deserves.

Song fic, inspired by Tyler Childers’ Feathered Indians

Warnings, etc.: Drunken hook up, handjobs, driving under the influence and then not, Sam’s a lightweight, RELIGIOUS families and the way some of them are shitty, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, being closeted, hidden relationship, fellatio, first times, drug use, unsafe sex, HEA, seriously it’s actually pretty fluffy.

Big thank you to @thoughtslikeaminefield​​ for her support, edits, and pre-reads.

     Well my buckle makes impressions  

     On the inside of her thigh  

     There are little feathered Indians  

     Where we tussled through the night  

 If anyone asked him, Dean just said it was what he had available. But if you really knew Dean, you’d know that the costume he wore that night was born from a deep seeded interest— some may call a fetish— in cowboy culture, films and legend.

 He tips his hat as he walks into the kitchen of Benny’s upper, Garth in aviators follows with Sam in overalls behind him. Sam was lucky he was so huge otherwise Dean wouldn’t risk bringing a high schooler to his friends’ party. And as his big brother, he made sure Sam knew it before they headed out that night.

 Benny’s roommate Gordon is manning the keg, decked out in full ninja gear with foam swords that cross his back. His dark eyes smile when he sees Dean, and they fist bump in greeting before passing plastic cups to Garth and Sam.

 “Didn’t think you’d show,” Gordon calls over the ruckus, keeping the drink line moving.

 Dean shrugs and replies, loudly. “Didn’t really have any other plans, figured it couldn’t hurt.”

 “Well, you know where the big man will be.”

 Dean nods, then thumbs towards the back porch. “Andrea bring any friends?”

 Gordon smirks, and Dean feels it behind the mask. “Yeah, she’s got a whole Greek Chorus out there.”

 Dean hedges his chances and brings his entourage outside to mingle. The deck is almost at maximum capacity. And Dean sees what Gordon meant, there are three or four girls and a couple of guys all in togas, hanging around Benny and Andrea with their spray-painted leaf crowns. There are the customary sexy nurses and cats and a few guys too unoriginal to be anything but some kind of athlete with their favorite jersey thrown on for the night.

 “Hail to the King!” Dean jeers, swaggering over to Benny for a jovial handshake and a side hug for Benny’s long-time girlfriend. “And her majesty, looking gorgeous as ever.”

 “Eyes front, John Wayne,” Benny drawls. “This Sammy?”

 Sam waves awkwardly and Garth finger guns. “Hey, Andrea, who are your friends?”

 Dean rolls his eyes but lets Garth get the introductions.

 “Meg and Anna are my sorority sisters, and this is Anna’s real brother Castiel and their cousin Gabriel. And Bela and Billie are up for the weekend, we grew up together.”

 Everyone smiles or at least nods at the acknowledgment of their names. Then Garth is off, “well I’m your Top Gun Garth Fitzgerald the Fourth, with my two compatriots, Dastardly Dean Winchester and his hayseed of a brother Samuel.”

 “Sam is fine,” Sammy points out, ducking his head nervously.

 Dean just tips his hat again.

 He catches a few eyes, but the unshakeable stare of the taller guy makes Dean swallow around whatever follow-up quip he’d been working on after Garth’s eagerness. And from that two hours, four shots, and three beers later, Dean is wrapped around the guy in the kitchen pantry, sloppy and silly, making out like they’re on a timer.

 Seven minutes in heaven indeed.

 The guy, Castiel, is strong, and solid. He shoves Dean back against the door and bites Dean’s bottom lip before slotting their legs together to get some frictional relief. Dean’s both grateful and frustrated with the jeans of his costume. Cas, Dean decides to shorten it now, in the toga is practically free for the groping, but Dean’s been keeping his hands on his hips until he’s given more verbal permission.

 Sometimes kissing is enough. Sometimes, it’s hard to stop once you get started.

 Sometimes Dean's a chicken shit.

             He lost his hat somewhere on the floor, but he's still got his boots on and that oversized belt buckle he's saved for just an opportunity like this to present itself. And it's his belt buckle that snags on the rope tie of Cas' toga.

 Cas pulls away with an annoyed grunt, tucking and twisting and gathering the flowing fabric until it’s bunched around his waist and Dean thinks he sees the hem of some white boxers in the shadows of the closet. And then he looks at Dean and tilts his head, jaw hitched and eyes imploring. “Have you ever heard that song about saving a horse?”

 And then, some minutes later, Dean’s on his back, and there’s a dress's worth of sheet fanning out from either side of him as Cas writhes against him, both still fully clothed, but hard as steel as they gasp against each other’s mouths.

 “I, uh, don’t usually listen to any modern country—- but I think I found a new appreciation for that song,” Dean gushes in between kisses. Dizzy and drunk on this stranger above him.

 Castiel chuckles and grinds deeper. Dean sees spots and just as he realizes he’s going home with spunky shorts, there’s a bang on the door.

 “Dean-o! Your brother’s puking his guts out!”

 “Fuck off!” Dean hollers back before Benny finishes talking. “Christ,” he mutters under his breath, letting his head drop back onto the floor. He runs his hands up and down Cas’ thighs, feeling his retreating erection make room between them.

 “Do you need to go?” Cas asks, voice low and forgiving.

 Dean peers out of one eye. “Need to? No. But I’m gonna, just wanna—”

 Dean finds Cas beneath all those layers, hot and heavy and somehow still hard. Cas groans at the rough tug of Dean’s hand, but he leans forwards and kisses Dean filthy as he lets this midnight cowboy get him off. At least the train makes for easy concealment and clean-up, for Cas, Dean thinks.

 Begrudgingly, Dean stands to sort himself out before going to find Sam. He untucks his plaid button-up and tries to hide the dark patch on his pants. Cas hands him his hat. Dean smiles shyly and ducks into it.

 “Hey, uh, think I can get your number? That was some ride,” Dean asks.

 “Maybe. Go check on your brother and then find me before you go,” Cas says thoughtfully. But Dean starts to get nervous that this was all it was ever gonna be.

 And then Benny’s pounding again.

 It takes damn near twenty minutes to get Sam vertical and cleaned up, but with Garth’s sober, wiry strength, they get him into the backseat of the Impala. Dean dusts off his hands and looks at his friend. “Thanks, but give me like five minutes, and we can head out.”

 “What?! Dean! He’s a little green in the gills to be beating around the bush,” Garth objects.

 “I know, just— five minutes. Please?” Dean clamps his hand on Garth’s shoulder and begs with his eyes.

 Garth agrees begrudgingly, “clock’s a’ticking.”

 Dean rushes back into the house, but can’t find any sign of Cas. He spots a couple of other members of the toga crew, but none of them have the build of a centurion. He checks the den, the kitchen, even the bathroom, and then, finally, he resigns himself to being a drunken hookup.  

 He waves goodbye to Benny and Gordon who are in an epic battle against Bela and Andrea for the beer pong championship and mopes down the front steps.

 To stop dead in his tracks.

 Cas—Castiel is talking to Garth, who is apparently reassuring him that Sam is gonna be fine.

 “--- won’t mind at all, in fact, it’s on the way to my place anyway.” Then the string bean notices Dean’s return. “What do you say, Dean, can we give Mr. Milton here a lift home?”

 Dean straightens up and smiles, feeling ready and willing to do whatever Cas needs. “Everything alright?”

 Cas clenches his fists at his sides and looks back at the house. “Uh, my sister, it appears she and Gabriel left some time ago. If it’s not too much trouble, I don’t live far.”

 Dean understands his apprehension. He’s not about to draw this out in front of Garth, and least of all a shitfaced Sam. “Sure thing, man. Take shotgun, Garth can be on Sam watch for the first leg.”

 Cas lives about a half mile off campus in a two-story bungalow with a well-maintained yard and three rusty cars in the driveway. No wonder he didn’t drive himself, Dean thinks.

 Instead of asking for his number again, Dean gives Cas his, scratched out on the back of a gas station receipt. “Just text me to let me know you got in okay.”

 It’s overkill. Everyone knows it. But no one mentions it.

 Cas accepts the piece of paper and nods at Dean, never breaking eye contact. And suddenly Garth is ready to swap places with Dean for the drive to Garth’s apartment. The moment is broken, Cas lets his fingers brush against Dean’s as he tugs on the receipt, but nothing more is said.

 He goes in through the side door, and the Impala backs out onto the quiet street.

  If I'd known she was religious  

   Then I wouldn't have came stoned

To the house of such an angel

   Too fucked up to get back home

 Cas doesn’t text Dean until the following afternoon.

       >>> I got in okay.

        <<< I figured

        <<<Must have been some lock

     <<< glad to hear it  

      <<<hows it going otherwise?  

 They start casually talking, getting to know one another instead of just each other’s mouths and bodies. Cas is in his third year, studying ancient history with a focus on the Mediterranean. He seems very impressed with Dean being an engineering student, which isn’t the first time he’s heard it, but it still feels good.

  Dean’s done with his last class with an entire day left before Thanksgiving break, so he and Benny are getting stoned and watching slasher fics. The bloodier, the better, they agreed. They’re about to start the last movie of the first trilogy when Andrea bursts in, in tears. Something about her stepmom or some family drama. Benny gives Dean a regretful look, but Dean knows when to make himself scarce. He stands to go and realizes he cannot drive. Everything is light and fluffy, and his tongue works over his teeth to give it something to do.

 Dean decides to go for a walk. The fall air is crisp, and he knows the neighborhood well enough, even high as balls in the darkness of the late afternoon. He makes the brilliant decision to text Cas, to see if he’s free. Dean’s been trying not to get too attached to the stoic history major. But he can’t deny he wants to see him again and is curious to see what he only drunkenly felt on Halloween.

 There are two major streets that lead into campus, and each has a minor grid of residential streets that break off in either direction, to the east it ends with the lake, to the west it ends with the river, and more pointedly, the start of the freeway. Dean heads to the west and the rows of older homes which have all slowly been turned into rental properties for the upperclassmen. The streets are full of students rushing off campus, but once Dean reaches the turn-off to Cas’ place, the chaos of the campus has quieted to normal neighborhood noises.

 It’s peaceful, Dean thinks. Nothing like the crappy trailers he and Sam have been in and out of since their house burned down. Not too shabby for university housing, all in all. Cas had replied a simple ‘not much’ for his plans for the night, so Dean takes the risk. Worst case scenario, the guy isn’t even home.

 So, when an acne-covered kid, who couldn’t be over fourteen, answers the door, Dean is concerned. Then the kid goes and yells at the top of his lungs, “Castiel, you have a guest!” Like they’re suddenly in some sort of Victorian novel.

 Then it all clicks, this isn’t some rental, this is the house Cas lives in, with his entire family. And there are a lot of them, besides pimple face, there’s Anna and some blonde guy watching television in the den just off the foyer. Cas comes down the wide wooden staircase with a pencil behind his ear and his eyebrows pitched in alarm, pink lips pinched tight.

 Dean tries to smile and wave, but he is interrupted by a short guy with curly gray hair and piercing blue eyes, lighter and more ominous than Cas’.

 “Are you a friend of Castiel’s from school?”

 Dean swallows because he hasn’t been asked a question like that since he hit double digits. He looks to Cas and back to his dad and holds out his hand.

 “Uh, hi, I’m Dean. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d say by— swing hi.”

 “Dean—,” Cas warns softly, hand clutching the ornate railing.

 “I’m Chuck, but you can call me Mr. Shurley. I’m Castiel’s dad.” The guys got a grip on him, and very soft hands. Dean nods and shakes for longer than is probably necessary, but better to be safe than sorry.

 “Nice to meet you, sir.”

 “Likewise,” Chuck smiles and pulls his hand back, finally.

 “I didn’t realize you were already done with classes,” Castiel tilts his head, probably trying to remain civil, but Dean feels himself be weighed and measured in his gaze. Damnit, he knows Dean’s stoned.

 Does his dad know though?

 Dean shrugs. “I got lucky this semester, only got Tuesday/Thursday classes.”

 “Castiel?” His dad interrupts. “Why don’t you see if your friend would like to join us for dinner?”

 Food sounds amazing and Dean kind of likes all the politeness. “Yeah, Cas, can I stay for dinner?”

 Cas looks to the ceiling and then at the couch, glaring over a fleeting giggle from Anna. “I’ll go set another place for him,” he grumbles, sulking through the den and into a door that must lead to the kitchen. Or maybe the dining room, old houses like this would have one of those, Dean thinks.

 “Come on in, Dean,” Chuck holds the door wide, and Dean steps inside and takes off his leather jacket. He sets it on a well-stocked coat rack just inside the door, there aren’t any shoes in the foyer, so Dean keeps his boots on.

 He doesn’t think he’d be able to unlace them in front of an audience, not at the moment anyway.

 “Something tells me you know, Anna as well–”

 Dean smirks. “Guilty.”

 “And that’s Michael, our oldest.”

 “How’s it going?” Dean nods to the guy, who looks to be damn near thirty.

 “Sup?” Michael barely glances in Dean’s direction.

 “Hey, Dean. How’s your brother?” Anna asks, turning from the t.v. to give their guest her full attention.

 “Sammy’s fine, just a little low on the tolerance level, but I think he learned his lesson.” Dean tries to cover all his bases, not sure how well received underaged drinking would be by Cas’ family.

 Chuck sighs awkwardly. Dean turns to look at him, and he almost elbows the kid that answered the door in the face. Where the hell was the twirp this whole time?!

 “Samandriel, did you finish your homework?”

 “Not yet, but I will after dinner. I swear!” The kid’s voice cracks, and Dean feels for him.

 He shoves his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and tries not to make his presence too obvious. Though he’s probably the biggest person in the house unless there are more brothers somewhere. Dean glances around the room and sees a row of school pictures spanning an entire wall. One, two, four, shit there’s six of them!

 And Anna’s the only girl.

 “Guilty,” she shoots his answer back at his thinking out loud. “Did Castiel know you were coming?”

 Dean spins his head and bats his lashes at her, trying to remember the question. “No— nope. I, uh, kinda just assumed.”

 “Well, you’re in it now. I hope you like spaghetti because she always makes too much as it is,” Anna says.

 Dean’s stomach growls. Even Michael laughs.

 Luckily Chuck wanders away at some point, so Dean is able to relax a little. But then Cas is back, and Dean has to remember not to openly flirt with the oh-so-handsome grump.

 “So how blazed are you right now?” Cas murmurs as they let his siblings lead the way to the table.

 Dean squints and pouts his lips, contemplating. “About half as much as when I got here. I’ll be fine!”

 Cas cocks an eyebrow, but Dean must be adorable like this or something because Cas throws him a bone. “My mother’s name is Naomi, call her Ms. Milton if you want to get in her good graces.”

 Dean whispers, “I thought your dad’s name was Shurley.”

 Cas licks his lips and grins. “It is, she didn’t take it.”

 “Ah!” Dean gets it, and Cas nods him towards the dining room door.

 The dining room is lined in dark wood, but is well-lit. The parents take the seats at either end of the table while the mostly grown children all find spots along the sides. No one mentions the empty seat between Anna and Michael or from whom Dean’s borrowing his chair. He chooses the seat on the end near Cas’ mom, she looks nice, and he hasn’t gotten to charm a mom since he helped Benny and Gordon move in August.

 “It smells amazing, Ms. Milton. Thanks for having me,” Dean beams as he pulls in his chair.

 The woman’s bright eyes sparkle with amusement. “So you’re our surprise guest. Mr?---”

 “Winchester, ma’am. Dean Winchester. I go to school with Cas and Anna,” Dean explains as Cas fills his water glass. “Thanks, man.”

 “It’s nice to see that Castiel is being social, he tends to get so involved in his studies that he—,” Naomi starts.

 “Mom!” Anna cuts in, eyes Cas and Dean, and then bobs her head to show that line of conversation is a little awkward. “Dean, what’s your major again?”

 “Mechanical Engineering, though it was a tough call, I almost went civil, but I figured the small problems are more my specialty. I love figuring out how to make things work and work better.”

 “It’s nice to see someone passionate about their field,” Chuck adds, after which Dean catches a glare between Michael and Salamander. Chuck clears his throat and holds up his hands for his children on each side to hold. “Bow your heads.”

 Dean takes Cas’ hand in his left and Naomi’s hand in his right, the size difference between their two hands is mesmerizing, and Dean forgets to listen to the prayer of gratitude. He risks rubbing his thumb against Cas’ while it’s out of sight.

 Cas has good hands.

 Suddenly there is a very abrupt chorus of “amen,” and Dean catches up a beat too late. But at least he can open his eyes again. Anna smirks at him, and Cas does his best to avoid making eye contact as they eat. Other than Dean eating two full plates worth, his presence becomes less of a novelty as the meal progresses.

 He volunteers to do the dishes because that’s how he was raised.

 Awkwardly enough, it is also Michael’s turn. So Dean dries as Michael washes. The weed is almost completely out of his system, but a thick food coma has settled in its place. Michael isn’t terribly chatty, but Dean gets the impression that he is not impressed with Dean at all.

 Dean’s spinning the cullender as he wipes it dry. He wonders what Cas is doing since his dad insisted that Dean was fine on his own. Either way, there are worse ways to spend a night off.

 “So, you go to State too or—?” Dean tries to make conversation.

 Michael chuckles and shakes his head.

 “No, I work with our dad printing his magazine. I set us up online, and now I kind of do whatever comes up,”

 “Family business, huh? I get that. What’s the magazine? Anything I would have come across?”

 Michael looks at Dean in mild amusement. “I doubt it.”

 Dean counters, “try me.” He takes the last pot from the drip tray.

 “Christian Home & Family Quarterly,” Michael deadpans and flicks the water off his hands towards the sink before wiping them off on the front of his jeans.

 Dean concedes with a little bounce of his head. “Yeah, can’t say that I have seen that one.”

    “Yeah, you don’t seem like the church-going type. No offense.”

 Dean just raises his eyebrows, because he’s not about to get into an argument with this guy in his own kitchen. But also, what the fuck?!

 Michael grins and slaps Dean on the back. “Thanks for the assist. I’ll go tell Castiel he gets to have his playdate before it’s time for bed.”

 Dean mutters silently behind Michael’s back. “Playdate my ass.”

 He drains the sink and wipes down the counters, unsure if Cas is going to come to find him or if Dean is going to have to wander back to the living room for a prayer circle.

 He wouldn’t be surprised either way.

 “You’re still here,” Cas says briskly. Dean can’t decide if that’s shock or annoyance in his eyes.

 Dean goes for broke and smirks. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.”

 “I’m sorry— when you texted— I had no idea you were nearby. Or—”

 “High as a kite? Yeah, man, no problem, I didn’t realize this was your folks’ place. This is all on me. On a scale of one to never, how likely will I be welcomed back?”

 Castiel tilts his chin down. “Do you want to come back? We usually weird people out well before they make it to the dinner table.”

 “Uh, well,” Dean stutters and scratches the back of his head. “I don’t mind the family time. I was just hoping to maybe hang out with you some more. But, uh, I’m guessing they don’t know about—.”

 Cas sighs and looks behind him to see that the kitchen door is still closed. “No, they don’t. They think I’m an innocent, socially inept, straight guy who is so busy with school he isn’t ready to find a wife and settle down.”

 “What about Michael?” Dean asks because that’s the first counterpoint to Cas’ parents' thought process his brain supplies.

 “What about Michael?” Cas leans against the sink, holding his opposite elbow.

 “Why isn’t he married and having a soccer team of his own?”

 Cas frowns, but mostly in the brow. “He’s got impossible standards. And a bit of a temper, if I’m being honest. But who am I to judge?”

 Dean tugs Cas’ hand away from his middle, stepping into his space and whispering, “Cas, if me hanging around could get you in trouble, I won’t do it. But if you still want to get to know one another better, I’ll be on my best behavior. Honest.”

 Cas bites his lips and looks at their fingers looped together. “I don’t have many friends. I can’t trust a lot of people with who I am, Dean. All I can do is work my ass off to graduate on time and find a doctoral program or a teaching job somewhere my parents and their church can’t repress me.”

 “Well, I gotta admit I was hoping for more than friendship showing up here tonight. But if that’s what you need, Cas— I can be your friend,” Dean tries to swallow down the disappointment. It’s not a rejection, but the aches are related.

 Cas looks firmly into Dean’s eyes. “I can only be friends here, Dean. Anywhere else, in private—”

 Dean nods, biting his bottom lip as he tries not to stare at Cas’ mouth. Oh, to feel those lips on his again. He clears his throat and straightens up.

 “Alright, buddy, you got it. So— you think you can give me a lift to my car?”

       Lookin' over West Virginia  

     Smoking Spirits on the roof  

     She asked ain't anybody told ya  

     That them things are bad for you  

     I said many folks have warned me  

     There's been several people try  

But up 'til now, there ain't been nothing

     That I couldn't leave behind  

 It was one of those in-between weeks, where the panic of finals sneaks up after Thanksgiving. Meanwhile, everyone is rushing to get ready to head back to wherever they’re actually from. Except for Dean, of course, ever the townie.

 He inhales a long drag off his cigarette and looks out over the campus. It’s late, even for night classes. The walkways are lit up like a Christmas tree but in Hannukah’s colors of white and safety blue. He’s got a good ten minutes before his supervisor comes looking for him, so Dean spends the last minutes of fresh air sucking down chemicals. It still beats the fake lemon tinge of the floor wax.

 He’s got two more floors worth of hallways ahead of him, and then the main floor’s bathrooms. Dean sighs and watches the smoke drift over the edge of the roof and into the night. He’s grateful for the job, especially since campus jobs are required to work around his class schedule. It’s just the second shift that kills most of his chances at socializing. And stops him from keeping closer tabs on Sam during the school week.

 Which might be for the best, for both of them, these days.

 Dean knows he’s not their dad, but Sam could really stand to listen every now and again. Kid’s smart, of course he is, but Dean doesn’t want him bullshitting his junior year and losing his chance at scholarships.

 Fuck— this isn’t the time to start worrying about this shit. Dean takes the last pull and holds the smoke in his lungs, letting it simmer. He exhales, scrapes the cherry off the end, and tosses the butt into the abyss between buildings. Sammy’d glare at him for littering, but when it’s his crew that’ll be pulling it out of the bushes someday, Dean can’t feel too guilty about it.

 He feels his phone vibrate against his thigh once he’s back inside and he takes the chance to check his messages.

     Cas  

     >>>Kinda a nasty habit  

 Dean instinctively looks over his shoulder, and back into the blinding fluorescence of the physical science building hall. He’s alone. Before he can reply to Cas being a creepy fucker, he gets another message.

     >>>I don’t know if you’ve heard, but it’s not very good for you.  

 Well, at least he knows what he’s getting reprimanded for.

     <<<Yeah, but I look hot doing it  

     <<< call it a wash  

     >>>I doubt your lungs would agree.  

 Dean checks the hall one last time and walks to the stairwell behind the elevators, mostly meant for staff use.

     <<<Why are you still at school?  

     <<<Don’t you usually turn into a pumpkin about this time?  

 He shoves his phone back into his pocket as he marches down to the fourth floor to pick up where he left off. He doesn’t feel a reply until he’s got the scrubber lined up and crawling along. It’s tomorrow before Dean can reply, but he goes to sleep rereading Cas’ last message.

     >>>Working in the library. God has not been so gracious as to turn me into a gourd to save me from the FOUR papers I have this semester.  

     >>>Don’t work too hard. Or give yourself cancer.  

 It’s weird to have somebody besides Sam giving him grief about his health. It almost feels like enough of a nudge to actually listen.

     From the circles it has raced  

       Well my heart is sweating bullets

    Like a little feathered Indian    

     Callin' out the clouds for rain  

 Dean steps through the old wooden doors and does not immediately burst into flames. Sam’s behind him, and Bobby’s behind him. They make their way to one of the back pews, guided by candlelight alone. It’s Christmas Eve, and Dean decided they were going to church for the first time since John’s funeral.

 Amazingly, neither Sam nor Bobby questioned it.

 Dean sits down and tries not to get caught searching the congregation for a specific head of dark hair. Bobby even takes off his hat and reads over the single-sheet program. The shadows cast by the flames turn the room into something otherworldly, both ancient and echoing. An unmistakable strum of an acoustic guitar breaks through the murmuring of the settling crowd. Then Cas’ little brother sings the first verse of Silent Night to start the service.

 Dean doesn’t have anything against God. Besides the usual orphan’s complaints, he supposes. He just doesn’t feel like he has anything to prove to the guy either. As far as he’s concerned, if God minds his own business, Dean will too. But there are those people who look at him funny, like they can see the gutter he dragged him and Sam out of and blame him for it. Like it really matters if he’s poor, or fucks around, or parties.

 Life’s too short not to enjoy it.

 And until God gives him a personal guarantee either way, he’s not changing.

 Those people are just too uptight to see the things Dean enjoys as blessings, not temptations. Sam’s more of an everything-in-moderation type, but that even seems restrictive to Dean. And as long as they're safe and happy—

 An older man stands at the front of the church and begins reading from Luke. The guy has a nasally voice, and it grates against Dean’s ears, but he soon passes the story on to Anna, who is wearing a simple black velvet dress with her hair pulled back.

 They pause in the reading to lead the congregation in a verse of O’ Little Town of Bethlehem. Then Dean sees Cas for the first time. Not singing, but approaching the front of the church from the side aisle. He takes the Bible from Anna and stands with dazed patience as the melody trails off. Dean wipes his palms on his thighs as he mumbles the words he thinks are right, swallowing when Cas starts to read.

 His voice is so much better to listen to than creepy guy’s.

 It’s then that Sam catches up. Dean doesn’t look directly at him, but he FEELS the bitch face he’s getting across the side of his face and down the suddenly tight collar of his dress shirt. It’s uncalled for is what it is, it’s Christmas! Can’t a guy pick a church to go to without an ulterior motive?

 Dean hates that he knows what Sam is going to say already and that he’s probably right. What Sam doesn’t know is that Dean is doing this to get in good with Cas’ family, not just get into Cas’ pants again. But he couldn’t exactly explain that without spilling all of Cas’ secrets, either.

 Dean ignores Sam but misses the end of Cas’ reading. There are a few more songs and more scripture. They close with their heads bowed in prayer, and a simple chime from the organ sends them off, to proceed reflectively and silently into the dark night.

 Their very conveniently placed seats for arrival suddenly are not so helpful as the people fill the aisles and bottleneck at the exits, either for donning their hats and coats, which Dean and company hadn’t bothered hanging up, or for socializing in whispers. Dean feels suddenly scrutinized as boomer after boomer eye him and Sam as fresh meat. He smiles and nods placatingly until he catches Michael’s raised eyebrow.

 Dean is trapped. What was he even thinking— now he is actually going to have to interact with Cas’ family. And not the nice ones.

 Michael lunges forward and grabs Dean’s hand in a tight shake, but takes care to murmur his greeting. “Dean, my man. Glad to see you.”

 Dean squeezes his hand back. “Hey Mikey, this here, uh, is my little brother Sam and my Uncle Bobby.”

 “Fellas,” Michael nods in turn. When Cas approaches and eyes the space between Michael and Dean suspiciously, Michael smirks. “Caught me fraternizing, huh, Castiel?”

 Cas just rolls his eyes before nodding at Dean, his jaw is locked tight.

 They share a glance as the crowd crawls out the back of the sanctuary, but nothing close to the reunion Dean was hoping for after weeks apart. He waits for the Milton-Shurleys to pass and then he follows them outside, completely unaware if Sam and Bobby are following or if they left him to fend for himself.

 Dean keeps his head down, though his heart is in his throat and his stomach is in knots. He came to see Cas and seeing him just makes Dean miss him more. Once outside, he hunches his shoulders against the cold, stepping carefully down the stone stairs. The parking lot is packed with people mingling, despite the late hour and the weather. There’s a row of people waiting to be picked up along the small walkway.

 Dean blows on his bare hands, rubs them together, and looks around, trying to find Sam or Bobby in the crowd. It’s like he’s been transported to an old movie or a Christmas card. Silver Bells’ lyrics run through his head as the snow gently falls on the retreating churchgoers. A throat clears behind him, and he spins, expecting Bobby.

 It’s Cas.

 With apologetic bright eyes, he smiles secretly at Dean. “Hello, Dean.”

 This was all worth it, dragging Sam along, singing carols, and the awkward exchange with Michael. Because Cas is looking at him like he’s a gift and Dean has to swallow and remember to breathe all at once.

 “Heya, Cas. Merry Christmas.” His cheeks prickle, but he can’t get any redder, from cold or blood.

 Cas’ face softens further. “It is, isn’t it?”

 They hold each other’s gaze, ignoring the dwindling crowd and even the rumble of the Impala’s engine as it pulls up beside them on the curb. Cas’ family is climbing into a beat-up van that’s parked in a loading zone. But neither of them really registers any of it. Because even in the darkness, Dean’s green locks on to Cas’ blue and holds tight, like spring leaves reaching towards an afternoon sky.

 “Thank you for—”

 “I should probably-”

 A nervous beat breaks the stalemate and forces them to look away. And all the world rushes back around them. Dean shifts and holds up a finger to signal Sam to button it up before he starts heckling.

 “‘S good to see you, man. Take it easy.”

 Cas reaches out and grips the meat of Dean’s bicep and nods. “Merry Christmas.”

 Dean wants to kiss him so damn bad. Instead, he licks his lips and does them both a favor by stepping back and breaking the contact. He waves at Anna as she approaches, folded in her puffer coat, big eyes full of concern. Impossibly, he walks away.

 Dean doesn’t look back as he crawls into the backseat. Bobby’s got the keys, and there’s no way Sam would forfeit shotgun now. It’s almost two before Dean’s in bed, looking forward to a long weekend of good food and sleeping in. Exhaustion can’t stop him from checking his phone one last time.

 It’s not in vain.

     Cas  

     >>>How would you feel about getting coffee soon?  

     <<<Free now  

     <<<just saying  

     >>> *grinning emoji* Very funny.  

     >>> Monday?  

     <<<Monday! bright n early  

     >>>Until then. * kissy emoji*  

 Dean blushes and cringes in equal measure as he types a simple “x” and darkens his screen. Suddenly he’s very much awake.

     I'd go runnin' through the thicket  

     I'd go careless through the thorns  

     Just to hold her for a minute  

     Though it'd leave me wanting more  

 Coffee gets crashed by Cas’ cousin Gabriel, and though he’s annoying and nosey, he seems to be someone Cas can trust. Then Cas has to drive Michael and their father to the airport the next time they try to schedule something.

 Dean’s getting desperate, but he tries not to let his disappointment show. To top off all of their scheduling conflicts, Cas is taking a winterim course, three credits of work, and knowledge packed into three weeks’ time. Dean is worried he’s coming on too strong, pushing Cas away with his neediness.

     <<<If it doesnt snow maybe we can get lunch on campus tmrw  

 It takes nearly an hour for Cas to reply. Dean does not have a cigarette as he waits, impatiently. He has to stop himself from deleting the text or double texting three different times. Why is he like this?

     >>>I’d love to. Subs or burgers?  

     <<< Burgers!  

     <<< The redder the meat the better  

     >>>Agreed!  

 Dean huffs out a chuckle at Cas’ earnestness.

 <<<Meet you outside your class?

 >>>Sounds good. See you at 12:45

 It snows. From sun up until just before noon. Which means Dean has to work, clearing the sidewalks with one of the plow-fitted ride-on lawnmowers. During breaks, he fills in on the grounds crew to make up for the hours he loses with fewer custodial shifts available. The school’s recruiting brochure brags about the five miles of walking paths on a scenic, green, urban campus. Dean curses every inch of those five miles as he speeds to make it in time to at least tell Cas in person why he has to miss lunch.

 He pushes the engine as hard as he can while taking the time to carefully plow the way from the parking lot to each building. He forgot his headphones and his phone’s tinny speakers do little against the open air, but Dean bobs his head and sings along, trying to keep up some momentum. And fight his growing anxiety.

 The Humanities’ buildings all back up against a small pond and Dean gets to those paths as his phone reaches a glaring 11% battery life. He shuts off his tunes and keeps pressing forward, only thirty minutes or so to get done.

 He’s gonna make it. He has to. Even if he only gets a thirty-minute break and getting back to the Union will take ten of it, he’s going to get to see Cas. One-on-one, finally.

  Dean plows and backs up and plows some more. He clears the loop around the pond and kills the engine just outside the nearest side entrance to the History building. It’s 12:48 and Dean is swiping his staff badge to get inside quicker. He stomps his boots clean before charging up the steps to the second floor and nearly runs smack into Cas as he turns toward the discussion rooms. Cas apologizes without looking up at first, clearly irritated.

 Dean grabs him by the upper arm and makes Cas see him, however late. Dean made it. He’s sweaty, and his nose is freezing, but Dean beams as Cas’ eyes take him in.

 “Hey, sorry, I—”

 “Yeah, I just made it. Sorry, I’m on the clock.”

 Cas squints and closes his distractingly chapped lips. “I see.”

 “Got time for a quick lunch, if you’re still game?” Dean cocks his head down to the stairs and holds his breath.

 “It’d be a bit brief for a first date, don’t you think?” Cas asks, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder.

 Dean licks his lips because he knows he’s got to salvage this. “This is just the pre-date. The real date will be longer— better.” He sighs and steps closer. “Maybe we can hash out the details over lunch?”

 Dean ducks to meet Cas’ reluctant gaze, giving his best hopeful eyes. Castiel looks at Dean and sighs with his whole being.

 “Okay, burgers?”

 Dean slaps him on the shoulder and holds on. “Burgers!”

 They ride to the Union on the lawn mower with the plow raised for safety, Dean speeding on the nearly abandoned pavement, and Cas holding on to the back, grinning like a fool.

       Hold me close my dear  

     Sing your whispering song  

     Softly in my ear  

     And I will sing along  

 They've managed a handful of stolen moments since. And now, Cas is over at his place, attempting to watch football while not overtly flirting in front of Sam.

            Their first date was indeed longer, but finding time and location that had both access and anonymity was difficult. The Italian food left much to be desired, though Dean couldn't ask for better company. Miraculously, Cas asked him out for a second date, and the movie wasn't bad.

 Sam is not buying it.  "You guys know you don't have to babysit me, right?"

Dean looks at Sam and silently begs him to not be a bitch. "What are you talking about? I wanna watch the game."

 Sam cocks his head. "Who’s playing, Dean?"

 Dean looks at the TV and tries to figure out the teams by their helmets and initials on the score at the bottom.

 "That's what I thought. Go fool around, or whatever it is you keep stopping yourselves from doing. I get it," Sam clips out the last t's.

Dean pushes up off the couch, hovering over his seat as he looks at Cas and smirks.

 Cas’ eyes go wide, but he nods, his lips hollowed out in query. Dean nods towards the back of the trailer and heads down the hallway without another word, away from Sam and to the thinnest illusion of privacy. He feels Cas follow but doesn’t see his fisted hands at his sides.

 The hollow door latches loosely closed behind them.

 Dean turns on Cas instantly. Before he even realizes he chose to, he’s cupping a nape, and his mouth is catching Cas’ on the uptake. Both open and filthy. Dean feels Cas exhale into him, feels his body still and his hands perch on Dean’s shoulders delicately.

 Dean grins into the kiss and presses closer into Cas’ space. Tries to unbury that toga-clad energy from Halloween. However sober, Dean knows it's in there.

 All while getting them closer to the bed.

 Cas sighs and grips Dean tighter. Pushes in with his chin forward and gives back. Dean sucks his tongue into his mouth and moans at the thick, heavy wetness.

 Fuck, he’s hungry.

 Dean stagger steps them towards the far wall, which makes the bed less than three feet away, but for some reason, they can’t stop kissing long enough to get there. It’s like depleting oxygen tanks or the last slurp of soda at the bottom of the cup. They need to kiss until they’ve gotten all of each other, desperate and determined; they taste.

 Until they start to laugh.

 Dean feels Cas chuckle, hunching his shoulders as they peck around giddy smiles.

 “What’s so funny, hm?” Dean asks, looking down at Cas’ scrunched-up nose as he tries to pull away.

 Cas just shakes his head and hauls Dean by the waist, kisses him again, and notches their thighs tighter. And okay, Dean is all about that, but he still feels like he’s missing something, but he doesn’t really think too hard about it with all the friction.

 Then the floor is out from under his feet, and Cas is on top of him, half off the bed and growling against his neck. Dean huffs and giggles. Because, damn. He should have had his guard up. Luckily Coach Sonny wasn’t here to see that, because that was a solid takedown and Dean let it happen.

 Dean catches his breath, slides his hand under Cas’ sweater and squeezes.

 Cas freezes and glares. Dean looks back under his lashes, challenging.

 “Ticklish, Cas?”

 “No, but I know you are— that , I remember,” Cas replies as he slides up and pulls Dean’s hands above his head. Dean stretches out, slinking further up the bed and Cas follows, fucking stalking up his body with heated determination.

 Dean swallows and goes for broke. “You gonna lose the Sunday best? Been dying to see you— feel you.”

 Dean looks Cas up and down, crumpled and creased. His starched khakis do little to hide his desire, even in the gray afternoon light of Dean’s one-windowed room.

 Cas rears back, kneeling on the bed between Dean’s legs and yanks the thick crocheted sweater over his back. It leaves his hair messy, but Dean’s too busy watching the way his shoulders flex as he pulls his arms out of the sleeves.

 Cas balls up the shirt and tosses it in the corner, shrugging as if to say, ‘and?’

 Dean rolls his eyes but scoots to sitting and starts unbuttoning his flannel. Castiel plays with Dean’s necklaces until it’s time to take off his t-shirt. And now that he’s got Cas in his lap, topless, Dean’s a little shy about his own bare torso. He’s not exactly super-defined or anything. He knows his strength, but he likes to eat, okay? Being poor you don’t skip meals unless you have to.

 He’s kicking himself for not letting Sammy talk him into matching tattoos. Any tattoo automatically makes you hotter. But the kid’s got another two years before Dean could get him into a legit parlor anyway. He inhales and ducks out of his shirt, and immediately surges up to restart making out, unwilling to watch Cas see him just yet.

 Cas’ hands roam Dean’s back, groping and kneading, dexterous and distracting.

 Dean gets lost in the fog of want, too tight in the pants to dwell on his shirtlessness. Then Cas cups his jaw and pulls back to look him in the eyes. Insistent, imploring blue.

 “Can we turn on some music?”

 Which was not, at all, what Dean was expecting Cas to ask him in that moment.

 Dean laughs and nods. But Cas keeps talking, “it’s just I know we’re probably louder than we realize. And with a younger sibling within earshot— I’d feel better if we— at least pretended—”

 Dean kisses Cas, shutting him up. “Dude, yes.” Peck. “I’ve got tunes.” Peck. “Just give me a sec.”

 Dean carefully unwraps himself from Cas’ body, giddy and grinning over all the skin he can see and finally feel . He pulls out the thigh of his jeans, trying to create room as he half stumbles and half struts to the bookcase and the ancient boombox he found at the Goodwill that has a double tape deck and a six-disc changer.

 He had been making compilation tapes during his downtime before spring classes start, and had intended to make one for each year to give the impala some diversity without letting Sam use his damn phone all the time. He just pushes play on the last finished tape. The old hiss from recording from vinyl starts and the room is filled with the crooning of Tommy James and the Shondells.

 When Dean turns around Cas’ head is cocked and he’s resting back on his palms, broad chest and strong arms on display. Dean wants to crawl into his lap and pink up his lips some more. But, ever the little shit, instead he unbuckles his belt and drops trow, kicking out of his pants and making Cas’ eyes bulge like a treefrog.

 Cas licks his lips and sits up, trying to open his fly and watch Dean step closer at the same time. If there’s one thing Dean knows it’s the art of distraction, and if his dick is out, there’s less chance Cas is gonna be staring at his softer-than-he’d-like torso.

 He grabs Cas by the back of the neck and leans down to kiss him filthy, kneeing between Cas’ legs as he feels Cas’ shaking hands find his hips. Dean smiles into the kiss and slows it down, pulling back to watch Cas’ lids flutter open, dopey and bright.

 “Wanna see you— can I?” Dean gestures down to Cas’ khakis and instantly draws attention back to his ruddy cock. Cas mumbles something but then nods, sitting taller and leaning back, forcing himself to look away as Dean sinks to the floor.

 He starts with Cas’ shoes and then his socks, and sees Cas flex his toes before falling fully onto his back on Dean’s bed. Dean drags himself back up and pulls open Cas’ pants, hands snaking beneath his thighs and tugging the fabric as Cas rocks from side to side. Dean looks him over, strong runner’s legs and dark hair, flat stomach, and messy hair. Fuck! If Dean didn’t know he went every which way already, he’d be so screwed. Castiel is gorgeous, and Dean’s got him in his bed naked as a jaybird.

 Happy early birthday, Dean thinks to himself and sets his hands alongside Cas’ waist to crawl up the miles of skin, trying not to stare at Cas’ fat dick that's hard and leaking for him.

 “I don’t want you to penetrate me,” Cas blurts out of nowhere.

 Dean stops in his tracks. “Uh, wasn’t even close to that yet, buddy. But, okay. That’s fine.”

 Dean looks down at their laps and then away, resting back on his heels, needing Cas’ to say more or even look at him. Cas’ eyes are shut tight, and he’s rubbing the bridge of his nose. Dean feels his anxiety in the air, so he starts rubbing Cas’ thigh and waits.

 And does not touch his own dick, even though it’s begging for any sort of contact.

 “Cas?” Dean asks after a solid two minutes of tense silence. “Is this your first time?”

 Dean knee-walks to Cas’ side and tries to pry his hands from hiding his face. “Because it’s totally okay if it is. I, uh, I haven’t really done much with guys— and I’m just excited we’re finally getting a chance to be alone— and all that.”

 Cas sighs and glares at Dean.

 Dean drops his chin and glares back. “What’s that for?”

 “You are being completely understanding, and I really don’t need another reason to like you,” Cas explains.

 “Thanks?” Dean guesses a polite response.

 Cas rolls his eyes and sits up, apparently unaffected by his own nakedness. He reaches for Dean’s hand and fiddles with his mother’s ring. “Can we go back to the kissing? I can handle that, and it’s goo—”

 Dean doesn’t let Cas talk himself into more embarrassment. Yeah, the kissing is good, great even. But Dean doesn’t want Cas worrying either. So he lays them both down, on their sides, knees knocking and dicks not quite touching. The heat between them lays in concentrated hollows, making the rest of them pucker in the winter air.

 Dean cups Cas’ jaw and runs his thumb along his cheekbone. “You okay?”

 Cas holds his wrist and husks out, “yeah. You?”

 Dean breathes out a single laugh. “Yeah, I’m pretty effin’ okay.”

 Dean kisses Cas’ chin, and nudges down to kiss along the underside of his jaw until he can suck on his pulse point. Cas’ breath hitches and Dean goes for broke, sliding his pelvis across the neutral zone they’d silently negotiated, in search of progress and the throbbing relief of the press of flesh against flesh.

 Cas moans and Dean reaches down and grabs a handful of Cas’ ass. Then he rolls them both so Dean’s on the bottom and Cas is the one in control. Cas licks into Dean’s mouth and grinds down, feeling the way their dicks slide together between their bellies.

 “What do you like?” Cas asks suddenly, hips rolling long and languid as Dean squirms and pecks at the parts of Cas he can reach.

 Dean looks up at Cas and smirks. “Do your worst. We can try whatever you want to try first.”

 Cas stills and bites his lips. “Are you sure?”

 Dean spreads his legs and feels Cas fall harder against him. “Yeah, it’s okay, just see how it goes. No stress—- this is supposed to be fun.”

 Cas nods seriously and kisses Dean’s cheek. “Thank you, Dean.”

 He looks down at their bodies, nestled and sticky, their dicks have been impossibly patient. “I’m not sure about the taste of semen. Do you mind if I taste you?”

 “Do I mind?” Dean stares slack-jawed and appalled. “No, I do not mind. Fucking taste away, Cas, Christ. Blow jobs are only some of the best things humans have invented, up there with music and pizza.”

 “Hmmmm, I may have to ask you to prove your hypothesis, but—.” Cas clears his throat. “Later.”

 Then he inches down Dean’s body and takes Dean’s dick firmly in hand. He traces the head with the pad of his thumb, making Dean whine as he tugs the skin of the shaft, watching carefully as more precum beads at the slit. With a flattened tongue, Cas laps the head of Dean’s dick and Dean goes cross-eyed watching him.

 Still holding Dean’s shaft, Cas starts licking Dean like an ice cream cone, and it’s not bad, it’s just very apparent the guy has never watched porn. Dean moans and starts rolling his hips, trying to at least get some stroking going on if Cas isn’t gonna take him into his mouth fully.

 When Cas starts to mirror Dean’s movements, Dean husks, “yeah, now, uh, can you suck on it? You don’t have to take it all, just start slow.”

 Cas watches Dean’s face as he holds the tip of Dean’s dick on his bottom lip and mouths around the girth. If he wasn’t so worried, Dean might have laughed, but Cas’ bright-eyed earnestness is making it hard for Dean to keep talking him through it.

 “Okay, now try and use your tongue, like we’re kissing,” Dean offers. “And take a little more in.”

 Cas obliges, words buzzing around his mouth as he asks, “like that?”

 Dean nods, licks and bites his bottom lip as Cas rolls his tongue and squeezes with his lips.

 “Suck, Cas, and bob,” Dean says, trying to stay still as Cas finds something like a rhythm.

 He pulls off breathless, but smiles. “Your dick is quite big— I, uh, I have to try again.”

 Dean chuckles. “Hey, look who’s talking, that monster between your legs is gonna be a full meal.”

 Cas blushes, but grabs Dean by the base and takes him even deeper. Dean’s starting to throb, the storm in his belly makes him thrust against Cas’ efforts, but he forces himself to keep it shallow.

 “You’re doing so good, babe, sucking me so good,” Dean murmurs, voice pitching higher with each wave of pleasure.

 Cas groans around Dean’s dick, tonguing the underneath as he dips his head down and up, down and up, dooooown and up. Dean’s right on the edge when Cas starts to gag. Dean catches himself a second too late from whining in defeat, but he gets Cas upright and coughing before it can go beyond repair.

 “Just breathe, it’s okay,” Dean says, watching Cas for any signs of regret or vomit.

 Cas clears his throat and takes big breaths through his nose, eyes wide with alarm.

 Dean hugs him around the shoulders and just squeezes until everything evens out. He doesn’t say anything, just brushes his lips along Cas’ hairline and waits it out.

 “Sorry,” Cas gasps out.

 “Sorry? Don’t be sorry— you don’t apologize for going whole ham on me like that, okay? We’re figuring shit out. There’s a learning curve to this, too, you know.” Dean says firmly, not making Cas face him just yet.

 Cas chuckles mirthlessly. “I do now.”

 Cas side eyes him sheepishly, but Dean just smiles and waggles his eyebrows. Cas rolls his eyes but lightens up the more Dean goads him with flirty faces.

 Dean kisses him softly, hands brushing over Cas’ face and down his neck until they start leaning back towards the pillows. Dean thinks about the skin mags shoved beneath his mattress and the lube he’s got in an old shoe box beneath that. He thinks about how none of that feels like this.

 Having Cas here, to himself, has been the true fantasy since Halloween. But this is real, and it’s happening. And Dean isn’t going to waste it.

 “Do you touch yourself?” Dean murmurs.

 Cas exhales and stretches back against the covers. “Sometimes, but I don’t have much privacy for anything elaborate.”

 Dean guessed as much.

 “How do you like it?” Dean asks as he reaches for Cas’ dick, just a gentle tug as if he’s gripping his shoulder in passing.

 “Harder,” Cas sighs, eyes cautious.

 Dean stops himself from rolling his eyes and squeezes as he starts to pump, leaning on his side as he watches Cas relax into his touch. He stops and licks his palm and over the pads of his fingers, easing the slide against Cas’ thickness.

 Cas groans at the wetness. “Faster, Dean.”

 Dean speeds up, dropping his free hand on Cas’ flat stomach and down to the ridge of his pelvis poking out. He keeps Cas’ face in his periphery but focuses his attention on the gorgeous body before him and the fat cock in his hand.

 “You’re so fucking hot like this,” Dean says, mesmerized by the straining muscles and the throbbing heat. “Wanna get you there, Cas. Let me?”

 Cas moans Dean’s name over the sound of CCR’s steady opening to Proud Mary.

 Dean kisses Cas’ chest and reaches down to cup his balls, stroking faster, careful to swipe the tip for a more natural glide. Dean looks over his shoulder and sees Cas watching him.

 “Like this?” Dean asks, voice as wrecked as Cas looks. Cas whimpers and bends in half around Dean’s hold, coming hot and hard all over Dean’s bed and hands.

 “Shit!”

 Dean almost giggles because Cas never swears. He strokes Cas through it, easing until Cas is whining from the contact. Dean kisses Cas’ shoulder and tugs the comforter out from under them, careful to avoid the mess and wipe his hands off at the same time.

 With just the sheets left on the bed, Dean falls beside Cas. Cradling him into the curve of his body, Dean tries to avoid direct ass-to-dick contact. He doesn’t want Cas to panic again.

 “You have incredibly strong hands,” Cas mutters into the pillows.

 Dean looks down and flexes his fingers. He’s never thought about his hands much, but he guesses Cas must be right. Years of working molded him into a very different animal from Cas, whose life is all Bible studies and textbooks.

 “You’re welcome,” Dean teases.

 Cas laughs, breathy and tender.

 Dean kisses his temple, gripping his chest and pulling him closer. They lay in the comfort of each other’s arms, letting the mixtape run out as they spoon and joke, eventually twisting beneath the top sheet.

 “When do you need to be home,” Dean asks against Cas’ chest, too content to even raise his head.

 “Don’t remind me,” Cas replies, reaching off the bed for his phone all the same. “Ugh! Probably should leave soon.”

 “How soon is soon?” Dean asks, sitting up while keeping the sheet bunched around his half-hard cock.

 “Seventeen minutes,” Cas replies offhandedly until he glances apologetically to Dean and starts to crawl out of bed.

 “Uh, where do you think you’re going?! I still get your naked ass in my bed for      at least    another ten minutes.” Dean grabs Cas’ elbow and drags him down on top of him.

 Cas smirks at Dean’s determination and shakes his head, snuggling closer. Then his hips slot against Dean’s poorly hidden erection.

 Dean hums noncommittally.

 Cas grinds down again, and Dean whines as he feels Cas’ growing interest.

 “Fuck! We really don’t have much time, man,” Dean warns, rocking against Cas. Cas yanks the sheet away, leaving Dean bare beneath him.

 “Next time,” Dean promises. “We’ll do more than the surface stuff, alright? Now I just want to feel you.”

 Cas nods, mouthing up Dean’s neck as they grip each other and stroke in incongruous rhythms.

 “I’m going to have to sit through dinner still smelling you on my skin,” Cas thinks out loud.

 “Good! Want you thinking about me while those assholes play house. Want you knowing I’ll be thinking about you— your mouth— your dick in my hands— in me— however you want, Cas.”

 Castiel gasps, but his hand moves faster on Dean’s shaft. “You want to take me?”

 “Cas!” Dean warns, too strung out after hours of build-up.

 “Dean,” Cas’ voice drops like a reprimand and Dean comes all over both of their stomachs.

 Too blissed out to keep jacking Cas off, Dean groans and then wiggles down to mouth at Cas’ dick. Half wild and desperate, Dean sucks Cas into the back of his throat.

 Cas, who is dumbfounded by Dean’s actions, keens at the new sensation of mouth and tongue and then comes again within moments. Dean doesn’t know if Cas is aware of how hungry he still is for him until he feels Cas tense when Dean catches Cas watching him lick his own spendings off Cas’ stomach.

 Cas twitches and moans a warbly, “oh, Lord!” They both freeze at his blasphemy.

 Dean looks up at him through heavy lashes, and Cas simply stares back. Dean kisses just below Cas’ navel and sits up, knees framing Cas’ thighs.

 “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Dean rockets off the bed and throws a towel around his hips. But he realizes he’s still a mess, so he tugs it up around his chest. He opens the door and quickly ducks out, closing it tight behind him.

 He rushes to grab an extra towel and a washcloth from the bathroom between his and Sam’s rooms. Dean’s gone less than three minutes, but in the moments they’re apart, he starts to worry that it was too much too soon.

 Dean doesn’t know if he can go back from this now. If he can keep it strictly PG since he’s gotten to truly worship Cas’ body. Now that he knows how it feels to just      be     in his presence, the connection, the comfort. Dean misses him already.

 He wipes off his belly and rinses out the cloth and adds some hand soap for good measure. He clutches the fresh towel to his chest and rushes back to his door, knocking.

 “It’s me,” he says and slips inside.

               Honey tell me how your love runs true

      And how I can always count on you

     To be there when the bullets fly  

     I'd run across the river just to hold you tonight  

 Dean sits in the impala, anxious. Cas is coming to dinner. And not just at the trailer with Sammy. He’s been personally invited to Seder by Uncle Rufus. And well, to say that’s a big deal is an understatement.

 Bobby and Rufus have been a thing as long as Dean can remember. From what he gathers, since the mid-80s after Bobby’s wife, Karen, passed and they met at a grief support group. The way the men always bickered, it took Dean into his teen years to realize how and how deeply they loved one another.

 Their home was probably the safest place for Dean to come to terms with his own varying sexuality. And after John disappeared for good, they were the only family he and Sam had left.

     The months with Cas start to fly by, between their ever-increasing class loads and the necessity of sneaking around, it’s spring before either of them realize it. Actual spring, not whatever the school tries to pass for it giving its spring break in mid-March, either.

 Dean knows Cas is curious about Rufus’ faith, among other things. He just hopes Cas’ blunt inquisitiveness isn’t met with mockery. He exhales and counts down the minutes until Cas is out of his last class of the day. He wonders what excuse Cas gave his parents for missing dinner with the family.

 He hates having to be a secret.

 With Cas’ family being so prominent and his father’s business at stake, Cas knows he has to lay low until he’s done with school. Because he’s on a scholarship for one thing, and another he doesn’t want to hurt his siblings or bring further scrutiny on them. Anna especially has had many struggles with mental illness that she’s had to fight without professional help because their parents insist it's a matter of faith and devotion, not brain chemistry.

 Dean has to bite his tongue so often that he’s gotten used to the taste of his own blood. But this is not his battle to fight. He’s there as backup only. He lets Cas lead the way, which he always does with compassion. Even when Cas is asked to pray at services Dean’s attended or the occasional family meal, Cas always prays for the lost or the less fortunate. He believes in the love of God in a way his parents and their judgment never could.

 He’d probably make a good priest, or pastor, whatever. Dean wonders which churches even let gay people be ordained. He bets there are some out there. He wants that for Cas, for him to find true community someday. Something like the crotchety old guys who wouldn’t pass for queer until they’re caught kissing in the toolshed. The type of safety and home Dean’s had the better half of his life.

 But he’ll do it and keep doing it as long as it keeps Cas safe. Cas told him about what happens when queer people are exposed within his family’s circle of friends, or anyone, really not willing to fully conform. Either the kids, because they’re usually too young to be able to fend for themselves, are sent to those awful camps. Or the entire family is blacklisted. Jobs are lost and all sources of charity or socializing suddenly dry up. Then they have to start over, somewhere else.

 Faith is something too commercial and too big for Dean to grasp most days. But he likes the ritual of it all, the tradition and the history. He knows Cas will love Rufus’ Seder. He just hopes Rufus and Bobby like Cas, too.

 “Hello, Dean,” comes Cas’ standard greeting as he pries open the door.

 “Heya, handsome. How was class?” Dawn checks his mirror and waits for the parking lot to clear as Cas tells him about his day. They hold hands across the bench seat because it’s dark enough for it to be hidden from any passersby.

 It’s a long drive this time of night, rush hour pushing them past sundown, which Dean knows will earn him a reprimand. But he’s not worried about himself. Sam was with Bobby helping out at the garage for some part-time money, so Dean knows at least they’ll be on time for dinner.

 Rufus will just have to deal with them crashing in.

 When they pull up to the well-worn bungalow, Dean takes his hand back to kill the engine and wipe his palms off on his thighs.

 “So, uh, this is Rufus and Bobby’s place. Dinner’s probably already started— so we’ll just go in quietly, especially if they’re singing. Neither of the bastards can carry a tune— but it’s tradition, so.”

 “Understandable, as you know, I’m not one to judge someone’s singing voice,” Cas even self-deprecates with empathy.

 “Okay, but, before we head in, can I?” Dean leans in and kisses his boyfriend without waiting for an answer. Cas slides closer across the seat and enters Dean’s mouth, thoroughly agreeing with the further delay.

 Dean breaks the kiss to breathe, resting his forehead against Cas’ as they both regain their composure.

 “Dean?”

 “Yeah?”

 “We should go inside.”

 “Yeah, I know— I just—.” Dean squeezes Cas’ forearm and searches his eyes in the darkness of the car.

 “I missed you, too,” Cas says softly, eyes big and hand warm against Dean’s cheek.

 They kiss once more for good measure and head inside.

   All things considered, it was a good night. Cas’ cheeks are flushed from the wine, and he’s grinning as Sam and Bobby regale him with the story of Dean’s last significant other to make it long enough to attend a family gathering, Cassie.

Except Cassie hadn’t been invited to Sam’s birthday dinner, she just showed up.

 “So get this— we’re grilling out back— about to start a game of two-hand touch with a bunch of middle school guys and —,” Sam sets the scene.

 And Bobby cuts in gesturing wildly, “a flipping diva. Hair out to here, walks in.”

 “She had more makeup on than I’ve seen on professional drag queens,” Rufus adds as he clears their dishes.

 “Okay, let’s be nice,” Dean interjects. “It was bad timing— I’ll give you that.”

 “It was weird, Dean! It was my party. I was twelve!” Sam argues.

 Cas chuckles and watches Dean as he shrugs, Dean ducks his head and tries to hide the heat in his cheeks.

“Anyway, this is better, right? See!” Dean asks everyone with   insistent eyes. ‘Don’t embarrass him like you’re dragging her,’ he   silently begs.

 “Much,” Sam agrees. “But I already know Cas– more or less.”

 “What is it you’re going to school for again?” Bobby asks carefully, popping some leftover matza into his mouth. Dean only eats the stuff when he has to, but Bobby doesn’t let any go to waste. The conversation flows easily and before long Cas needs to get home.

 “Thank you so much Mr. Turner for having me— I hope the second night goes just as well for you all.” Castiel shakes Rufus’ hand.

 Rufus preens under all the attention, earring sparkling in the glow from the front porch light. “I’m sorry you can’t make it, but there’s always next year, am I right?”

 Cas, clearly surprised, smiles all the same. Dean scratches the back of his neck and waits for the goodbyes to be over.

 “Alright, young man, drive safe,” Rufus says to Dean. He can’t remember Rufus ever using his actual name. He’s always ‘hey you’, ‘punk’, or if he’s been on his best behavior, ‘young man’.

 Dean shakes Rufus’ hand and leans in for a quick hug. Sam follows behind shaking hands and nodding his gratitude.

 Dean glances at Sam to sit in the backseat as they make their way down the driveway. Sam pretends to think about it, the sacrifice of giving up shotgun is a pretty big deal when it comes to being sixteen in your brother’s legacy car.

 But before it gets too noticeable that they are silently arguing, Sam relents and lets Cas have the cherished spot. Dean isn’t impressed, but he mouths a ‘thank you’, though it could be interpreted another way. He slides into the driver’s seat and grins over at Cas. Cas smiles knowingly back, and Dean cranks the volume.

 They don’t kiss goodnight, and not just for Sam’s sake either. It’s just too rushed, and Cas has to transform back into the stoic machine he is around his family. Dean hates these moments the most. Not just parting with Cas but watching him bury so much of himself.

 “Thanks for the ride,” Cas says sadly before ducking out of the open passenger side door. He nods to Sam and marches dutifully up his front steps. Dean ignores Sam when he turns down the music and settles into the front seat. Something pulls at Dean’s insides, but he stays put watching Cas. Then Cas turns around, waves, and opens the door to return to that damned prison.

 Dean slowly blinks back to reality and puts the car into gear. He drives home on autopilot and Sam’s smart enough to leave him to his thoughts. When he gets home, Dean reworks some details on a design for his automation class. Then tries to get ahead on some reading for a seminar he’s taking. Nothing sticks, but maybe it will come back when he needs it.

 Guess he’s an optimist now.

        A week later, Dean chances a phone call when he knows Cas will still be on campus, but out of the obligation of any classroom.

“Hey— this is stupid—- but I was wondering if you— maybe— like this summer— when the semester is over, and classes aren’t so crazy—- I talked to Sam and he’s cool with it if you help out. But like— no pressure or anything—- and only if you wanted to. It would be awesome. So, do you think—- maybe— you’d like to move in with me? I mean with us?” Dean hadn’t rambled this long since he tried to talk their way out of a parking ticket for a passed-out John, in middle school.

 He must have lost oxygen to his brain because when he hears Cas on the other end of the line, it’s only a thready plea of his name.

 “No, listen, I know you’ve got your scholarship shit, but you can get grants and a job at the student aid office or tutor for money or something. They can’t stop you from finishing school—- they can only make it a little bit worse. But everything else can be better, Cas, I swear.” Dean wasn’t supposed to be so desperate about this, but he really wants Cas to be happy. Well, safe and out and happy, but still.

 “Dean—- we’ve only been dating for a few months,” Cas sighs. “They’re my family forever.”

 “They don’t have to be,” Dean says without thinking. He closes his eyes, takes a breath, and then rubs his forehead with the back of the hand that’s holding the phone. “Not like you have to cut ties with them or anything— but, uh— well, Bobby’s always said family don’t end in blood. So, you know— you’ve got options.”

 The seconds of silence coming from Cas’ side of the call last into the next century.

 “And what happens if we break up, Dean?’ Cas doesn’t sound upset, but he still isn’t sold on anything.

 Dean wasn’t expecting to go down that particular trail of possibility, and he flounders for a response. Both hurt and worried that Cas would think so little of him, of them.

 Dean looks around the trailer’s living/dining/kitchen area and wonders what this could look like to Castiel’s eyes. He thought it was freedom, but maybe it’s just a trash hole to him like it was to the wrestling team and half of Dean’s exes.

“We’re both really young to be making such decisions,” Cas adds lightly.

 “Look— I just want you to be happy. Are you happy, Cas?” Dean lays it out.

 Cas exhales and shifts on the line, Dean can practically hear the gears in his head whirling a mile a minute. When he doesn’t answer, Dean presses on.

 “Do you think you could be happy with me?”

 “That’s not fair,” Cas counters. “You know this isn’t just about me. Would you leave Sam behind if it meant you could be happy?”

 Dean locks his jaw, bitter and righteous. “No, but–”

 “I may not be responsible for my siblings the way you are for Sam, but I do love them, Dean.”

 “I know.” Dean feels it all slipping away from him. He doesn’t know what to say or do to make it better. He wishes he could take the entire conversation back.

 “For what it’s worth—- when I’m with you—- that’s the happiest I’ve ever been.”

 Dean pinches the tears out of his eyes and bleats out something like a chuckle. “Yeah, well, that’s great.”

 “Dean?”

 “Hm?”

 “Do you work tonight?” It’s such an innocent question it throws Dean for a loop.

 He looks at the clock on the microwave and sighs. “Uh, yeah, got like an hour before Sam’ll be home and then I’ll head in after we eat.”

 “What are you making?” Cas’ voice is soothing, and Dean hates him for being able to distract him like this because it’s fucking working.

 “Uh, just hotdogs and beans—- didn’t want to make a huge mess.”

 “Because it’s on Sam to clean up and he’s probably got homework,” Cas concludes.

 “Didn’t want him to leave it for me in the morning is all,” Dean reasons.

 “Of course,” Cas agrees, knowing Dean’s thought process better than Dean would like.

 “How late is the library open?” Dean turns the curiosity back on Cas.

 “Ten, you know that: why?”

 Dean shrugs though Cas can’t see him. “Was hoping to see you, maybe, if you’ll still be there when my shift starts.”

 “Okay.”

   Castiel is waiting for Dean in the parking lot closest to the Macleod Library. He walks him to the maintenance staff office so Dean’s not late for his shift. They shake hands and pat each other on the back goodnight. Just guys being bros.

Dean doesn’t mention the sheet of folded-up paper Cas passes  him. It’s just a time and place, but it brightens Dean’s mood better  than any placation or even kiss probably could at that moment.

 His shift has never been longer.

 Just before dawn, Dean finds Cas right where he had said he’d be. On one of the stone benches lining the small pond on Cas’ department’s side of campus.

 “Hello, Dean.”

 “Got your note— a bit cryptic— but I chose to interpret it like a middle school note— do you like me? Check yes or no.” Dean saunters closer, his hands fit around Cas’ hips beneath where his hands are wedged into his pockets.

 “What are you checking?”

 Dean kisses him because they are alone and because it’s his answer. Cas hums and pulls back. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

 Dean rolls his eyes at the lame joke, but kisses him again, deeper and more forceful until they both have to pull apart for air, grinning and giddy.

 “How was work?” Cas presents one of his hands for Dean to thread their fingers together.

“Work— but I managed to get through. Might have been a little distracted.”

 “Sorry about that,” Cas smiles mischievously.

 “No, you’re not,” Dean murmurs against his temple, kissing him softly. “What’s up?”

 Dean is dead on his feet, but he won’t be able to sleep until Cas tells him what all this build-up was for. Cas goes still, but he stays close.

 “I wanted to tell you something—- and ask you for a favor,” Cas explains carefully, not making eye contact.

 Dean watches the side of his face but aims for casualness. “Okay, a little dramatic, but shoot.”

 Cas does face him then, eyes bright and brows high in hope or apology, Dean’s not sure. “It’s about your offer— sort of.”

 Dean waits, but his palm is getting sweaty underneath Cas’ insistent grip.

 “I want to be with you. I do. But since I can’t—- fully— until I graduate and Samandriel is an adult—- I want to promise to be true to you until we can both be our real selves.”

 Dean squints and looks at Cas.

 “Are you breaking up with me?”

 Cas glares. “You are an idiot. Are you seriously so tired right now that you interpreted me pledging myself to you as me breaking up with you?!”

 Dean doesn’t know what to say, so he puts on his best adorable apology face, essentially saying ‘I’m dumb but pretty.’

 Cas rolls his eyes.

 “You’re impossible.”

 Dean reaches up to hold Cas’ face with both hands. “That’s already where I’ve been, Cas. That’s all relationships are— loyalty and devotion.”

 Cas leans into Dean’s touch. “No, Dean. Maybe it’s not common in the secular world. But promising ourselves to each other is kind of a big deal with the people of my church.”

 Dean drops his hands and steps back. “Are you proposing?”

 “No-o,” Cas says it like it’s a question.

 Dean grabs his hair and has a mini freak-out. But turns back and looks Cas in the eye even though he’s terrified. “Holy shit, you’re proposing.”

 “Dean, I’m not proposing,” Cas says more sternly.

 “And you were freaking out about me asking you to move in together.”

 “To be fair, moving in together doesn’t happen in my experience until after marriage.”

 “Yeah, but like half the people you know don’t even kiss before marriage,” Dean snarks.

 Cas grimaces, but nods. Dean leans back in. “We’ve done a helluva lot more than kiss.”

 “Your point?” Cas asks with a fragile sort of firmness.

 Dean laces his hands behind Cas’ neck. “You are proposing.”

 Cas, once again, rolls his eyes and tugs Dean closer by one of his front pockets. “Call it a pre-engagement if you must, but only if you swear to it, too.”

 All the teasing leaves Dean’s body. Instead, he breathes deep and stares into Cas’ hesitant eyes. “I love you, you know that right? I mean— we don’t say it, but you know that about me.”

 Cas softens in Dean’s arms, nodding as tears start to build in the corners of his gorgeous eyes.

 “I’m yours, Cas. As long as it takes, okay?”

 Cas swallows thickly and grins. “Okay.”

 Dean looks down at Cas’ hands and between their bodies. “I feel unprepared for this.”

 Cas cocks his head. “What are you talking about?”

 Dean flexes his fingers and spots his solution. “I feel like I should be giving you something.”

 “Dean, it’s not like I brought you anything.”

 But Dean’s already untying one of his necklaces. It’s made of rough leather with a few beads knotted onto it. He bought it because he thought it was the right colors for the bisexual flag, but there’s a green one that throws off his reasoning.

 “Here,” Dean insists, taking his mother’s ring off his right hand and threading it down the twine. “That should work— long enough to hide it, but still with you at all times.”

 Cas doesn’t speak, just swallows and nods, turning so Dean can tie it on. Cas cradles the metal loop against his chest like he’s making the pledge all over again.

 Dean beams at him, never realizing how satisfying it’d be to call Cas his. To have a claim on him, and his heart.

 “Looks good on ya.”

 “Thank you, Dean. I’ll— I’ll think of something to give you. Okay?”

 Dean nods, hugging Cas close and whispering in his ear, “we’ve got plenty of time for that, okay?”

 “We do, don’t we?” Cas grins his nose-scrunching grin and kisses Dean with more teeth than tongue.

    Six years later

The arena is packed with people, families and friends filling the lower levels for the first round of afternoon graduations. Dean scans the crowd looking for Bobby and Rufus because, frankly, he’s sick of telling people the seats on either side of him are taken.

 Then there’s the guy one chair over who won’t stop announcing that his cousin is getting his doctorate and how cute it is that Dean’s kid brother is only getting his bachelor’s. Dean isn’t going to let him bate him, it’s neither the time nor the place. But he clenches his fist anyway, just for something to pass the time.

Finally, Dean spots Rufus stiff-arming his way through the  masses. He doesn’t say, “move, I’m gay.” But Dean imagines he is. Once  they’re within earshot, he realizes Rufus is playing another card  entirely.

“Senior citizens coming through!”

 Dean picks up his coat and stands up to shake his uncles’ hands.

 “Have trouble finding the place?” Dean teases.

 “Don’t get him started,” Bobby warns, sitting in the now open middle seat. Leaving the far seat for Rufus, right next to Mr. Obnoxious himself.

 Rufus settles into his seat and does a double take. “Don’t I know you?”

 Gabriel rolls his eyes and acts offended. “Yeah, you do, Gramps. Forget your readers at home, huh?”

 Dean tries to stifle his laugh, muttering, “he’s your problem now.”

The ceremony begins with a quick introduction and only two reasonably long speeches. The graduate students are announced first, but Cas is in the last row. It feels like Dean has been waiting for this moment as long as Cas has. He’s certainly put in the hours of research beside him. Fed and watered and supported them while Cas TA'd, wrote, and argued his thesis.

 Dean shoves down the nervousness and focuses on the pride. There were only six doctoral candidates, and five made it across the stage that day. Dean couldn’t help but scream his head off when they announced, “Doctor Castiel Milton-Winchester.”

 Everyone in the row beside him joined in, from a very pregnant Anna and her husband to Samandriel and Jess, Sam’s girlfriend whose nursing school graduation was in two and a half hours. Their tribe went hard.

 Then they all had to wait for Sam’s turn near the end of the undergrads.

 Dean doesn’t think it’s possible to be any prouder than he is at that moment. Seeing Sam’s floppy hair tucked underneath his square cap brings tears to his eyes. His brother was gonna be a lawyer someday, and not too far in the future Dean and Cas will be at another one of these robe parades.

 Who knows, maybe Jess will still be around for it, too.

 Dean grins and sniffles, because, yeah, Sam is graduating, but Dean helped get him there, damn it.

 Not bad for two trailer park kids.

 After the official time for applause, once the final name is called, the crowd returns to chaos. Dean bides his time, knowing Cas and Sam will find each other and meet up with him at the impala, sooner or later.

 He watches his extended family gather their belongings and trudge outside into the spring sunshine. Rufus is loudly impatient the whole way. While Anna is almost to the point of waddling. Dean can’t wait to meet their niece already. Life is starting to slow down it seems.

 Maybe they’ll finally be able to take the honeymoon they’ve been putting off for the past two years.

 From somewhere behind Dean, Cas drawls a pathetic, “hey there, cowboy.”

 Dean spins on the spot, smirking. “What’s up, Doc?”

 “Really, Dean?! Bugs Bunny?!” Sam admonishes.

 “Shut your face, Sammy,” Dean snips, not breaking eye contact with his husband.

 Sam groans and turns to find Jessica. Dean’ll properly congratulate him later with the new juicer Sam’s been talking about, none too subtly, since the air fryer Dean got him for his birthday.

 “Ready to celebrate your momentous accomplishment?” Dean asks, sliding in close and slipping his hands inside the now open sides of Cas’ faux satin gown.

 “Please tell me there’ll be food. I woke up late and was too distracted to have breakfast,” Cas grumbles on Dean’s shoulder, shuffling his feet as if they’re dancing.

 “Okay, but you never eat breakfast,” Dean argues since he was the source of the distraction in the first place.

 “Because I eat between classes at like ten, Dean!” Cas bellyaches.

 Dean sighs and gives him an unimpressed grimace. “Yes, there’ll be food, Christ. I’m not a sadist.”

 They walk hand-in-hand to the car, Sam and Jess trailing behind them.

 “Okay, quick lunch, and then back for round two?” Dean asks as everyone finds their respective doors. They all nod in agreement and Dean ducks into the car.

 A memory of Cas’ first ride in the impala pops into Dean’s head. Having Sam in the backseat with Jess, it’s like looking in a funhouse mirror of that night. Sober and Garth-less, Dean chuckles.

 “What?” Cas asks, amused.

 Dean shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Just funny how everything works out in the end.”

 “Good things do happen, Dean,” Cas agrees.

 “Yeah, tell me about it. I got you, didn’t I?” Dean revs the engine and pulls into the line of traffic making their way out of the parking garage.

Destiel Tags: @dolphincliffs, @lastactiontricia​

Tell me what you think?

[livslunaticdamiansdisciple18]

We all left the hotel and we walked into this place that had like at least 137,379 people in it and this beautiful, gorgeous, astonishing woman walked out and said “Welcome to Eastern Oustanding Amazing Entertainment Pro Wrestling aka EOAEPW where everyone is accepted. Even though I’m the owner I will be wrestling for you tonight. My name is Gretchen Foster but my full name is Gretchen Wilhelmina Janene Dodie Foster but in the ring, I’m known as “The Nightmare Demolisher” Eliora “Evie” King. I’m glad that you’re here. Let’s get the show started. The first match scheduled for one fall is for the Demon’s Championship Belt. Introducing the champion weighing in at 6’6”, 272 lbs from Ogdensburg, New Jersey, Nathan “Quickdraw” Bernard, and introducing the challenger weighing in at 6’3”, 160lbs from Streetsboro, Ohio, Shane "Big Boy" Stone.” We

Can you guys finish the sentence or dm me with what you come up with pls

[marcelloandtyler]

“It’s just…” Marcello trailed off, withholding tears. He took a deep breath and swallowed. “They know a lot of things already and it has really killed them. I— hate that I’m… I have… brought this to them.”

Marcello chewed his lower lip and smiled around it as he looked at Levi, cheeks pink. “God. Okay. Yeah,” he agreed. “I want that, too. Every day.”

Levi talking about them being rich and settling in Italy had his heart racing. Knowing someone wanted to be with him that badly was incredible. It truly seemed they had a future together. He smiled and took a deep breath. “You are… something.”

Marcello nodded. “Queen would be nice. Or even a king. I’ve always wanted a really big bed, with lots of blankets and pillows. It feels safer, somehow.”

He finished his water and got up, grinning as Levi pulled him in for a kiss. “There we go,” he murmured, kissing him again quickly. “My gorgeous boyfriend. Hello, there.”

They left the Haven and went back to their room. Marcello changed into jersey shorts and sneakers and grabbed his arm band to put his iPhone in. He found his wireless earbuds as well.

“You ready?” He asked, popping up from the drawer where he’d tucked away the clothes he’d worn to breakfast and lunch.

marcelloandtyler​:

Marcello smile sadly. “I just– it’s how I feel. I don’t know. I don’t– It’s not— they don’t need to hear it all. They just don’t,” he said softly. He nodded. “I think it will.”

He smiled softly at looking across at the other, his eyes moving over his face. His cheeks warmed. “Say hot sex again,” he murmured.

He shrugged. “You never know. I hear people have two or three careers these days. Maybe we’ll both stumble into something different when we’re older. Something that sends us around the world.”

Marcello took a deep breath.

“I’d like to share a bed,” he confirmed. “But the question is, what size bed do we want?” he asked, giving him a small smile. He stole another of Levi’s fries and bit into it.

He nodded, noticing Levi seemed done, too. He gave him a small smile. “Should we go get our exercise on?”

Levi held his gaze and then took in a breath. “I know that’s how you feel, but sometimes you need help and support of people who love you. They need to know what’s going on so they can give you what help they can, even if that’s just sitting with you,” he said softly in return. 

He laughed at that and then raised a brow at him. “Hm, hot sex?” He said, grinning at him. “I want to have the hottest and most intimate sex ever with you.”

He considered Marcello’s words and then shrugged a shoulder. “It’s possible. I won’t discount that,” he said, taking him in. “Though I guess only time will tell. But if we’re happy and settled in Italy by then, I’m fine with that too.”

He laughed at that question, thinking about it. “Honestly, I think I could sleep on a twin bed with you,” he teased, taking him in. “But I imagine it’s best to have at least a Queen so that if we want to spread out a bit we can.”

“Sure,” he said, getting up on his feet. He held out his hand to Marcello to help him up. “Just one thing first.” He smiled at him and then leaned in, kissing him softly. 

[haeminlgc]

RANKING KING EP. 006: SPORTS

“From last place to first, I’m Yoo haemin and you’re watching… Ranking King!” He smiled brightly at the camera. "As you may have noticed I'm not wearing my usual type of clothes but instead opted for something more... active." Haemin stood up and pointed at the basketball jersey he was wearing as he did a slow turn and pose. "So you might guess that today I'll be ranking sports! Now, keep in mind that I am definitely not the most athletic person out there and haven't tried a lot of these sports so I think I will be ranking them in order of 'most likely to try' rather than what I like the most."

"Let's see what our options are... we have figure skating, volleyball, tennis, baseball, surfing, cycling, long distance running, swimming, boxing, and ssireum. Wow, those are all quite different from each other." Haemin tilted his head to the side as he contemplated the various options. He looked down at his body and then at his two arms that he held up in a strong man pose. "I'm by no means a buff person but I have been trying to go to the gym at least a few times a week to work on my muscle tone so I'm not as weak as I used to be."

"My first choice would be ssireum funnily enough. I know I'd be easily overpowered but I think it would be interesting to try it since it's a sport with a long standing tradition behind it. Then I'd put figure skating because it looks so gorgeous when done correctly. Boxing would be next since it would help my stamina for long shoots and hopefully I'd get a good looking body. Then I'd choose surfing, swimming, volleyball, tennis, baseball, cycling, with long distance running in last place. I despise running."

"And there you have it, my rankings on sports that I might try in the future. See you next week! Bye bye, ta-ta, always yours, Minmin~!”

[fredalan]

Michael Cuscuna by Jimmy Katz

Michael Cuscuna R.I.P. 1948-2024

Our fantastic friend, then client, Michael Cuscuna, record producer/historian extraordinaire and co-founder of Mosaic Records, passed away on April 19, 2024. Both of us –Alan and Fred– wrote remembrances that we’re reposting here.

.....

Michael Cuscuna by Thomas Staudter

I knew the voice of Michael Cuscuna before I ever met the man. Growing up in an area of New Jersey where we could pull in both New York and Philadelphia stations, I would listen to him DJ at WMMR out of Philly. He had a quintessential FM DJ voice — soft-spoken, intimate, gravelly, authoritative. He didn’t yammer on, but I remember he was clever and his sense of humor was dry as a bone. He played a mix of progressive rock and some things that clung to the precipice of musical genres.  

Years later our paths merged. I started seeing his name on the backs of albums I’d play on my college jazz radio show — now I was the DJ, and he had become a prolific producer, supervising dates for a diverse list of artists, including many dedicated to the avant garde. He also produced for Bonnie Raitt and other groundbreaking musicians. I am searching my memory in vain to recall how we became connected, but he was also creating a monthly promo disk sent to radio stations by Crawdaddy Magazine and I became his producer, using the free facilities of the college station to record and edit. He would collect the interview tapes from the magazine’s feature writers, I would edit them into a coherent radio show, then he would come in and record his host segments. Out of that association, I started writing reviews for Crawdaddy of new jazz releases. He was as wickedly funny in person as I remembered him on the radio. I was a little in awe of his extraordinary knowledge of music — an artist’s historical significance, how a musician’s style linked that person to the artists that came before and after, and why certain artists deserved more recognition than they had received by the public. He turned me onto a lot of music. I think we did the show for a couple of years.   

More time passed, and Michael came into my life again through my partner at our media advertising agency, Fred/Alan. By now, Michael had established himself as an important compiler of jazz reissues that went above and beyond what was typical at the time. Starting with Blue Note Records, but ultimately including the libraries of other labels, he’d go into the vaults and unearth the unreleased sides and alternate takes and place them alongside the more well-known songs. His two-fer series for Blue Note was particularly noteworthy. On the back of that success, he and a former Blue Note executive named Charlie Lourie created Mosaic Records. Their concept was to do numbered, limited editions in luxurious box sets aimed at the collector market. Initially vinyl only, they switched to CDs when that was the prevailing release format. The boxes were gorgeous, each with a booklet filled with photos, an essay by a prominent jazz historian, and absolutely accurate discographical information. They specialized in “complete” collections depending on the frame they decided was relevant. That frame might have been the three-day recording binge from 1957 by organist Jimmy Smith that resulted in enough material for three CDs, the unreleased complete recordings of Charlie Parker’s live solos recorded by Dean Benedetti, or the complete Capitol recordings of the Nat King Cole trio, a box that weighed-in at 18 CDs. They were sold only through the mail, direct to consumers. But they weren’t reaching the market and needed help. In an earlier era, my partner Fred Seibert had attached himself to Michael to learn as much as he could about producing records. Knowing the two of us, Michael asked if we could come up with a direct marketing campaign. In our typically arrogant belief that we knew how to do almost anything or could figure it out, we said yes. 

We began producing a catalog that was mailed out to jazz enthusiasts, slowing building a list of devoted listeners and buyers. My job was to write that catalog. We dissolved the advertising agency in 1992, and mailed catalogs gave way to internet promotion, but I continued writing the sales copy for each release, save one or two that I didn’t do for reasons lost to time. I just wrote one last month for an upcoming set featuring vibraphonist Bobby Hutcherson.  

I developed a format for my essays. I started with some thesis about why that artist deserved more recognition, or why the music from that era was crucially important — in other words, why you absolutely had to own that collection. I segued into a couple paragraphs of biography, followed by a few paragraphs where I singled-out important tracks or tried to convey in words the feeling, the sound, the artistry of the musician. I wrapped it up with more “don’t delay” language. In all those years, each and every time I approached a new assignment I had two thoughts crowding my mind — will Michael agree with my thesis? Will Michael take issue with the way I chose to describe the music? Each package gave me an opportunity to do a deep dive into the music, but I knew I didn’t have Michael’s personal connection to many of the artists, or his historian’s perspective on the music. And by the way, he was himself a damn good writer. It never stopped thrilling me when he’d send back an email merely correcting a calendar date, or the number of unreleased tracks, with a message that he thought it was otherwise perfect. More than anything I wanted to impress and satisfy Michael. I was alway so happy that I could.  

I think they had done four releases when we got involved in 1984. The company is closing in on 200 box sets. I can’t believe it’s been a 40-year association. 

We lost Charlie more than 20 years ago. This weekend, Michael passed after a long illness. I will miss his husky laugh, his personal stories about the musicians we both obsessed over, and the gratitude he expressed each time I turned in an assignment. 

To many, his name was a name on the back of an album jacket. To those of us who knew him, we know him as someone who single-handedly rescued the Blue Note archive and other treasures from oblivion, who introduced us to overlooked artists such as saxophonist Tina Brooks, and who demanded we take a second look at music that was significant and mind-blowing. As a colleague, as a client, but mostly as a music lover, I am forever in his debt. My sympathies to the family of this enormously important figure in music. RIP Michael Cuscuna. 

–Alan Goodman (repost from Facebook) 

..... 

Michael Cuscuna, photograph by Jimmy Katz

Michael Cuscuna

Michael Cuscuna, one of my great inspirations and sometime collaborator, passed away this weekend (April 19, 2024) from cancer. Being a cancer survivor  last year myself, when someone I’ve known and worked with for over 50 years it hit particularly hard.

Blue Cuscuna: 1999 promotional sampler from Toshiba-EMI [Japan]

Michael has been the most consequential jazz record producer of the past half century, a man who had not only a passion, but the relentlessness necessary to will the entire history of the music into being. Don’t believe it? Check out the more than 2600 (!) of his credits on Discogs. Substantial and meaningful he might have been, but to me, he was a slightly older friend who was always there with a helping hand. Hopefully, I was able to hand something back on occasion. 

As I said when he answered “7 Questions” eight years ago: “I first encountered Michael as a college listener to his “freeform,” major station, radio show in New York, and was fanboy’d out when a mutual friend introduced us at [an] open rehearsal for [Carla Bley’s and Michael Mantler’s] Jazz Composer’s Orchestra at The Public Theater (MC has a photographic memory: “It was Roswell [Rudd]’s piece or Grachan [Moncur III]’s. You were darting nervously around the chairs with your uniform of the time – denim jean jacket, forgettable shirt and jeans.”) By 1972 or 73, he’d joined Atlantic Records as a producer, and since that was my career aspiration, I’d give him a call every once in awhile. He’d patiently always make time for my rambling and inane questions, and I never forgot his kindness to a drifting, unfocused, fellow traveler. 

“...patiently always make time for my rambling and inane questions...” says a lot about Michael. His raspy voice could sometimes seem brusque, but ask anyone and they will tell you that he always made time to talk. Especially about jazz. 

I desperately wanted to be a record producer and Michael was one of the first professionals I encountered. He had already produced my favorite Bonnie Raitt LP when somehow or other I bullied my way into his Atlantic Records office, where he was a mentee of the legendary Joel Dorn. Over the next few years, Michael was often amused at some of the creative decisions I made, but he was always supportive and even would sometimes ask me to make a gig when he couldn’t. When I spent a year living in LA, he invited me over to the studio while he was mining the history of Blue Note Records that would define his life for the next half century. I completely failed to understand what the great service to American culture he was about to unleash. Along with Blue Note executive Charlie Lourie, Michael’s research resulted in a series of double albums (”two-fers” in 70s speak), but little did the world know what was on Michael’s and Charlie’s minds.

The Cuscuna/Lourie Blue Note “Two-Fers” that ignited Mosaic Records

“I don’t think it’s generally understood just how imperiled the musical and visual archives of Blue Note Records were at one point, and just how heroically Michael stepped in to make sure this unparalleled American music survived for future generations. If you like jazz, you owe the man.” –Evan Haga 

(Joe Maita does a great interview about Michael's career here.) 

Fast forward a few years. The air went out of my record producing tires, I became the first creative director of MTV, I quit MTV and along with my partner Alan Goodman started the world’s first media “branding” agency. Leafing through DownBeat one day I saw an ad that started a new relationship with Michael that would last, on one level or another, for the rest of his life: the “mail order” jazz reissue label Mosaic Records. 

Charlie Lourie & Michael Cuscuna at Mt. Fuji Jazz Festival, Japan 1987. Photograph by Gary Vercelli / CapRadio Music

Long story short, in 1982 Michael returned my check for the first two Mosaic  releases with a note asking for some help. Initially, Mosaic wasn’t the sure fire, instant success Michael and Charlie had hoped for, did I have any ideas? I did, but no time to do anything other than make suggestions, we were busy trying to get our own shop off the ground. This cycle repeated itself for another couple of years when this time when Michael called he said Mosaic was on death’s door. Fred/Alan was in better shape, so Alan and I, on our summer vacation, came up with the first Mosaic “brochure,” convinced the guys we knew what we were doing (I’d read a few paragraphs in a direct mail book in a bookstore) and, with nothing to lose, Charlie and Michael took the plunge with us. Success! 42 years later, the former Fred/Alan and Frederator CFO at the helm, Alan and I always answer any call from Mosaic.

The first Mosaic Record box set 1983

There aren’t many people in the world like Michael Cuscuna. The world’s culture will miss him. I will miss him. Most of all, of course, his wife and children will miss him.