#lol if you like it just tell me in the comments

[prettyboykatsuki]

fang i need to see yukimiya with an oversexed s/o so bad

i think about this all the time bc of hypersexuality

tags for some implied religious trauma on mr yukimiyas part and very explicit sexual content. reader is very wanton lol, 18+

it is . sooooo hard for him. the thing is yukimiya genuinely thinks of you as such a warm, kind person. his feelings for you are so deep and sincere and completely removed from any lust he might feel for you. or at least that lust is intertwined with a stronger desire to be gentle and intimate and sweet with you yk

but you are sooooo horny and so shameless and it is soooo much for that poor boy. i do genuinely think yukimiya has like self imposed saving himself for marriage thing. and he's super upfront about it with you from the start bc u so obviously want to jump his bones. he has a very Strong sense of discipline overall.

like the first time you kiss you're just like... all over him. hands in his hair, pressed against his lap, tongue in mouth and he is trying to handle all the sensory input and failing. he has to PRY you off of him and he's so red and he's like no no we can't go any further.

and you pout jokingly but you never push him. you're so sweet about it, maybe a little teasing but that's it. you always express your desires and voice them, always tell him whats on you mind. if you think he looks handsome or sexy or whatever—you'll sort of fidget with the end of your straw and bite and make a comment so unbelievably lewd before moving right along.

you make these like... eyes at him. fuck me eyes, he's heard the term before but he didn't really get it until he met you. you know exactly what you want from him and you're thinking about how you can get it. a little dazed, very determined. always gets him sooo flush.

you brush things off easily enough when he blows you off about it. you're a lot but you're not....forceful or anything. he makes a little face of faux disappointment and you laugh it off and thats all there really is but the longer you date the less he feels sure of himself.

yukimiya wanted to get married young and didnt see a whole lot of purpose in trying to lose virginity to someone he didn't love so he held onto it for longer than most people. that plus growing up religious its just something he was so sure about it.

and he does want to treat you well. marry you. yukimiya is the first guy to ever be such a gentleman to you and he doesnt want to taint that because of his own ...desires. its dirty to him. he doesn't think it's bad when you want things, but it's different when he wants things.

but it gets. harder and harder. you're so forward and you are also so good at touching him (too good) and so attractive already without trying very hard. you could do anything and look insanely beautiful to him but god.

you really don't go farther than making out and heavy petting. but that in itself gets so obscene. the way you space out your kisses, the way you flick your tongue - how your hands slide up his chest and neck, thumb rubbing against his ears, how you carry your weight in his lap, how you use your teeth. you kiss him like you could eat him whole.

when your hand gets on his belt he always loses his sense of reason - only barely tears himself a way from it each time. half-hard and apologetic. eventually you get the feeling that he's not even... it's not like he doesn't want to do it but he's holding onto beliefs he only barely has.

you have to have a long conversation about it i think. give him a peptalk about how you know how much he loves you and sex can be intimate too etc. when he's still resistant to it, you make a compromise. no penetration until he's ready, even if that means marriage. no sex. you think its silly but it helps him make sense of everything.

i think he agrees to this kind of blindly, assuming it will take the edge and tension off. like letting the pressure out slowly so something doesnt explode.

but. once you open that box, you can't really close it again.

so you do everything but have sex. and it absolutely makes him want to fuck you.

its light at first. dry humping while you make out and making him cum in his jeans. giving a handjob or teaching him how to finger you ("for when you do fuck me, someday"). directing him on how exactly you like getting head - on foreplay, your sure hands over his shaky ones as he make him squeeze your tits and guide them into his mouth. tell him the other places on your body you like being touched.

you teach him things about his own body too. or rather, he learns them because of you. his ears get red and sensitive, he likes when you bite his ear lobes lightly.his lips too. likes your hands on his biceps or chest or back, kissing and rubbing his muscles appreciatively. it does something to him. he knows he's attractive but it's... different. it's a nice feeling to be wanted but being wanted by you makes his whole body break into these terrible shivers.

he learns that the tip of his cock is way more sensitve than it should be. he learns he doesn't mind when you take advantage of this either.

he's got a few moles on his body and he likes how you kiss them when you go down on him. on his hip and inner thigh and some other places. likes when you rub up against him in general, when you cling to him during it or when your nails dig into his arms

yukimiya likes how... relaxed you get when you feel good. the first time he makes you cum with his mouth he feels so absurdly accomplished, even more so when you giggle at him and kiss him so full of love.

nothing changes. you go on dates and see each other. sleep in the same bed. but when you stay over at his place now - he's started to anticipate your little escapades.

no penetration. he knows that should mean not getting his dick anywhere near you. but you're persuasive. it's fine, yuu-kun. just slide your dick against me, it'll feel good. you can do it between my thighs, if you want.

the first time yukimiya slides his hard cock through the soft, slick folds of your pussy he nearly passes out. randomly on a date night. it just turns out that way. your hands on the back of his neck, kissing him as it slips through the sticky warmth.

it feels so good. it's mindblowing. it's so unfair. how can something feeling so much better when everything else you've been feeling had felt so incredible? how can there be anything more tempting than what you already do?

but there is. its you with your ass up and your thighs squeeze as yukimiya fucks the plush of them - tip knocking against your clit, catching on your hole, one misstep away from thrusting. the thought haunts him even as he's cumming up against your belly and thighs.

there's a guilt he feels about greed in particular, even more than lust. sometimes you go at it and he just. can't help it. can't help but want more. can't help but shamefully jerk off in the bathroom after you've already done it for a while.

you come onto him the same as always, more now that he's receptive to it but god he can never turn down your advances. even when it'd be smarter to do it. all it takes is his name now, or maybe just you taking his glasses off so it's a little easier to kiss him. it scares him a little, just how easy it'd be to slip up and . take you really. thin threads of control fraying as he gets close and closer to just giving you what you want.

it's Hard. he holds onto it for so long. i think he snaps eventually when you do something very thoughtful for him on a bday or anniversay and he just becomes uncharacteristcally aggressive (not that ur mad) and u have such intense deep missionary. like eye contact, chest to chest, slow rolling of his hips while he grinds into you. it is such a crazy feeling.

yukimiya just really. bends to your whims after you have these breakthroughs. he is so unbearably seduced by you even when he tries so hard to fight but it . god its rough on his brain. shame and pleasure are not opposites for him, that's for sure.

[maingh0st]

i decided to get needlessly curious about the progression of time in tfota, then realized there wasn't much about it online. so for the like. two other people in the world who care about this stuff, here's what I've got:

jude says her birthday is nov 13, 2001 when telling dain a series of truths + one lie. the lie is that she can't swim, so we can assume this is truly her birthday

madoc says the new king will be coronated on the autumn solstice, which typically falls in late september (if you want to be really annoying about details, the autumn solstice was on sep 23 in 2019, the year tcp is set)

jude is seventeen at the beginning of tcp (7 yrs old when taken to faerie, and tcp takes place 10 years after that). given the timing of the coronation and her november birthday, she turns 18 during the time skip between tcp and twk (happy bday queen, pls take it easy on poisoning yourself)

twk starts with 5 months of jude's bargain with cardan already past, and by the end (when he proposes) 7 months of the bargain have gone by. this puts us at like... springtime. maybe april?

then there's the tqon exile time jump, which the internet says was four months (i tried looking in the book and couldn't find an exact number, but jude does make a comment about it being early autumn near the beginning of tqon, so this (or even slightly longer) checks out)

tqon timeline is a little foggy but it's pretty fast-paced, so I'm going to posit that it's about a month (feel free to drop details below, i just couldn't find much)

tldr: tfota all takes place in the span of about a year, which we already knew, but it's fun (for me lol) to see it all laid out. jude is presumably not far from her 19th birthday when she's officially coronated at the end of tqon. this also means that oak’s books are set in the future! (2028, i think?)

also, if I’ve done the math right, jude was exiled in the mortal world in 2020, so covid does not exist in this universe. good for them

[merakiui]

ahhhhh thank you for answering my ask!!!! i have even more!!!! (this is both the anon from contractual fwb and the milking anon TT i was super tired when i sent that in lol. if you don’t have an eepy or sleepy anon feel free to dub me. also ignore the spelling mistakes my fingers are moving slower than my brain) btw this brainrot is not based on my last asks, but more on the canon of what you wrote. it’s been bouncing in my mind all day.

you thought that since azul didn’t want your relationship to be known when it was first starting that he’d not want it to be shown off either when it’s official. but you’re dead wrong! (500 mora on the fact that he just wanted to keep it on the dl so that way no one could try and break y’all’s contract up.) but no, bitch you work in the monstro lounge and you best believe that every single person who walks through those doors knows you ride his dick with how much he lets you get away with. you mess up an order? it’s met with a sigh instead of a lecture. a tables being rude to you? doenst matter how busy yall are, they’re going to someone else. you’d like to order food after last call for workers? he’ll make it himself.

ruggie’s poor ass even commented one time on how yall act like you’re married. he called you azuls work wife and all azul heard was “wife” (listen people, i don’t care what gender you are because work couple names are gender neutral. only reason you’re the so called wife in this scenario is purely because id love to call azul my husband. got it? good.) and so now azuls on this whole thing about how you’re his wife and you’re married and he refuses to respond to anything other than “my husband.” it’s a bit tiring to explain to random strangers that yes, you are too young to be married, and no, you’re not actually married to this crazy tako. but don’t worry, his silly little nicknames are still used.

you’ve practically moved into octavinel’s dormitory at this point. you sleep there nearly every night. of course you occasionally go back to ramshackle because of any slight disagreement you get into (and also ace and deuce are tired of having to babysit grim every night and that cat ain’t going near the fish dorm with a ten foot pole) which means you get woken up to a flushed azul with flowers and a roundabout half apology. you forgive him every time.

back to the marriage thing. yall really do act like you’re already married. you’ve even started helping him sort out his papers in his office instead of being in the floor. (this definitely started because you wanted more of him and he was busy so you were like fuck it i guess im in) you’re his proof reader for his contracts. he has yet to make a mistake. and if he’s in back of house you run the front, even if jade and floyd are there! he’ll never tell you this but it’s somehow a super long winded plan he created through a careful game of 5d chess to get you to own a business together that’s completely unnecessary because you would’ve said yes to co-owning a restaurant.

he’s so happy his pretty work wife wants to run the lounge with him. and it’s definitely not so he can tie you down more to him because we know he’d love you to live the sugar baby lifestyle—oh no not at all. his tells his mommy about it and she ends up requesting to meet you. he wouldn’t sent her a quick no if you didn’t put your hand on your hip and raise your eyebrow. he finds it just as sexy as you batting your pretty lashes up at him but he’ll never tell you. he has a thing for boss lady’s.

(bbg if you want more i’ll deadass ramble to you about how i think meeting his mom would go. i have sooooo many thoughts on this au it’s genuinely concerning)

AAAAA EEPY ANON!!!! You have blessed me with your brilliant thoughts once more (that milking ask was so delicious btw.... I need him clinging to me!!!!!).

Handing over that 500 mora to you because you're right LOL. Stingy tako did not want to share or publicize your relationship because he just knew in his soul that someone would try to get in the way of your contract...... he covers all of his bases in the most meticulous ways. >_< so silly...

AAAAAA THE WORK WIFE/WORK HUSBAND DYNAMIC WITH HIM!!!!! This is so true!!!!! He spoils you so much. Ruggie is very right to make that observation. <3 Azul is so lenient with you and it's so obvious he's down bad for you. Insisting on making food for you even though you were just planning to take leftovers. So quick to forgive you if you make a mistake, and Floyd whines about how Azul's not like that whenever he messes up. >:( you really are his work wife and one day hopefully his real wife and it will say so on the legal documents and you'll get his surname and and and !!!!!!

Omg Azul and his 5D chess plans........ oh, he is so over the moon when you show interest in the lounge and wanting to help out... he melts if you give him a shoulder massage while he writes up contracts. >:D can he just marry you right now already!!! OTL I love the idea of him folding whenever you do something he finds attractive. Batting your lashes, hands on your hips, every playful glance, etc etc....... somehow he ends up folding so hard for you that it gets you a trip to the Coral Sea to meet his parents, and his mother and the restaurant staff fawn over you and Azul's partnership. Such a cute couple. They adore you. Azul thinks this is the most blue he's ever looked because he's so embarrassed, yet you soak in their attention like a thirsty flower. Even more embarrassing when you're sleeping in his childhood room and you tease him for it. He is definitely fucking you in that cramped sleeping nook and you're going to fall asleep wrapped up in his tentacles, the both of you clinging to each other.

(please ramble as much as you want!!!! I love these thoughts so much,,, contractual fwb with Azul will always be one of my favorites hehe. I need to know how the meeting with his mother goes...... AAAAAAA)

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

LOLL girl I totally get it, but I don't think you have to be scared on this one. It's a nice little slow burn fic with cozy winter vibes. 😘 And like you, I LOVE soulmate/true mate/fates mate AUs too. It's definitely a mix of forced proximity and grumpy/sunshine, which you know I can't stop writing that dynamic for some reason. 😂😂

But here we go!! Diving into the rest of your lovely comments...

The physical description of Dean is SO good. The use of "stern" and "stubborn" as descriptors fits well for Dean.

Hahaaa thank you, lovely!! Stern brows and a stubborn chin felt inherently Dean to me.

Oh suuuurrrreeee keep telling yourself that Dean.

Lmfao right? Denial of the purest form. 🙄

So what you're saying is... she's trapped in a cabin, she's got a broken ankle, in the middle of a snowstorm with no way out and no communications, with a ruggedly hot mountain man with gorgeous green eyes, a gruff exterior, and a mysterious past... Sign👏🏻 Me👏🏻 Up

That is EXACTLY what I'm saying. 😏

(Also that How to Train Your Dragon gif made me smile -- I love that movie!!)

So ready for Dean to just obliterate all her other experiences with total jerks.

Oh he already is! You def know where I'm going with this. 😏

I live for the after a nightmare comfort trope (if it is a trope? 🧐) and I am SO happy you put this in. Oh my goodness it was so sweet of him to come check on her, and for you to give us a little bit of insight inside of Dean's POV during those moments where she was terrified. This part stuck out to me, because the man is already hook, line, and sinker. He literally tried to go to a cabin in the middle of the woods to get away from it all, but fate really has an odd way of catching up to you. Can't exactly run from it Dean.

Aww me too!! I love hurt/comfort moments almost as much as pure fluff moments. Dean really is fighting for his life emotionally in this loll. His instincts as an alpha (and her mate) are warring with his brain, and it was really fun to write that aspect of Dean's angst post-season 15.

OOooooooOOOooooo shots fired. SHOTS FIRED... But did she stutter??

She, in fact, did NOT stutter.

I'm losing it over the fact that Sam named his son DEAN Jr. 😂🥰 And also the bit about "running full speed into glass doors" is making me cackle lol.

Ahaha idk if that was actually canon or if that's something we in the fandom started writing and I just rolled with it. 😂 I'm pretty sure it's canon that Sam named his son after his uncle? But oh yeah, the running full speed into glass doors was taken straight out of my childhood. 🤣🤣

This line is so Dean, it's PERFECT, and I really love that it was what made the reader try to snort her diet Pepsi.

LOL thank you!! I think I grabbed part of it from season 12 where they go to Hollywood/L.A., but I thought it was quintessential Dean. 🤣

And I just want to say thank you for giving Dean the kinda "homemaker" role in this fic. The fact that he's making food for the reader (I'm obsessed with men who can cook) and taking care of her is just:

Omg yeesss, I love malewife Dean lmao. He's just such a caretaker at heart, and an awesome cook! I can so picture him making big breakfasts for his kids on weekends and packing their lunches for school. 🥹

Oh no Dean, you're not like the Cabin in that way. The cabin is made of strong aged wood that keeps out the chill and is full of warmth! The cabin withstands the elements and doesn't fall no matter how hard the howling wind blows! Dang it, I have way too many emotions over that line. Alex, why did you have to do this to me 😭 It's SO GOOD!!

Dean's self-deprecating angst is like a necessary evil for his character. I'm so glad the cabin metaphor resonated with you the way I intended, even if it breaks my heart too!! 😭😭💙💙

And I'm not sure if you were trying to say that the reader was also a little skeptical about the true mates and if it is a real thing that happens, but I can't wait for part 2 to see if they actually admit it to each other or if they try to keep it a secret as long as they can! Also the song choice perfectly fits the vibes in this fic 👌🏻

Oh yeah, there's some of that too! She's more open to it now than Dean, but I thought we needed some realism where she's also skeptical true mates are even real -- until she met Dean. How strongly they both are reacting to each other physically, but not wanting to admit it yet, and the reader just wanting to know more about Dean before she begins to trust him, all of that is going to continue playing out in Part 2. 💓💓

Oh thank you on the song choice!! Of course Bob Seger has featured on the show in a big way with "Night Moves," so I thought "Against the Wind" felt very Dean, especially in a post-S15 AU.

My lovely friend, this was so good and I can't wait for part 2!!!

Thank you sooooo very much, my friend!! 🥹🥹 Part 2 is dropping later today!! 🥳💕💕

Against the Wind - Part 1

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: This is a canon ending-divergent AU, but still an Omegaverse story within the canon world. It also fulfills a bingo square for @jacklesversebingo!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, scenting, injuries, hints of angst, fluff and feels. 

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 1: In His Hands

Your body is mostly numb when he pulls you out of the snow.

You utter a sharp cry when something in your side twinges, waking up your entire body like a white-hot shiv. Your ankle begins to throb as well.

“Hold on. I’ve got you.”

You only half hear the voice, a deep, coarse rumble. His form is broad and dark and blurry, but his male scent is the only thing you register with perfect clarity. 

Alpha. 

A small treble of alarm runs through you. It’s an instinct you’ve had to learn, as an omega traveling alone in rural Montana. However, something else disrupts that anxiety.

It’s his scent. His scent is like the crackle and smoke of a warm hearth. 

Safe. Your body is heavy and stiff and doesn’t respond to your commands, and yet, you feel a measure of calm when he maneuvers you into his arms. It’s a baser instinct, rooted deep in your chest. He begins to carry you down the slope of the mountain, and your vision blurs white…

Like the flurry of snow falling heavy on his jacket.  

You wake up freezing and shivering in pain. A sensation of small sharp needles begins to travel all across your skin. Slowly, as you're able to blink, your view of the dark wood cabin clears and focuses. You realize that you’re bundled in blankets, and laying on a chaise in front of a large fireplace. Still, you’re too cold. A keening whimper escapes you as you try to burrow in.

Alpha. Your body instinctively recognizes his presence, as he’s suddenly there, hovering close above you with a divot between his brows and a frown marring his face, where thick stubble threatens to become a beard. Stern, dark brows are furrowed over his concerned eyes. His plush frown is framed by a stubborn-looking chin. Your gaze wearily travels over his handsome features, his short brown hair, the flickers of firelight that splash across the side of his face.

He places a warm, calloused hand on your forehead, and he mutters a curse. Your body trembles further with cold. You part your lips, but you can't yet force your voice to escape them.

Again, he quite literally takes the problem into his own hands. He peels away the thick blankets just to slide himself in behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, and you feel their tempered strength when they cage you in against him. You manage to turn your head and rest your cheek against his chest, covered by red plaid. Thank you...

Almost on reflex, you breathe in his scent deeply.  The earthiness of it calms you, warms you from the inside. Your shivering eventually calms and turns to purring in your chest. 

“What’s your name, Omega?” he asks. His voice is deep and gruff, and it threatens to make you shiver for a different reason as the timbre of it washes over you. 

It’s difficult, but you manage to speak, clearing past your parched throat to give him your name. He nods, as if rolling the sound of it back and forth across his mind.

“Was somebody out there with you?” he asks.

You shake your head, even though the thought elicits a painful twinge in your heart. 

“Who…” you try to speak again, even though it hurts a little. “Who are you?”

You feel him take a deep breath. He hesitates, like he’s reluctant to give it to you. 

“Dean,” he says. 

You roll the name around in your head, over and over. Dean, Dean, Dean…

You smile slightly. “Yeah, makes sense.”

“What?” he says. You hear the raised brow in his tone. 

“You sound like a Dean,” you say, perhaps a little delirious. 

Anyway, that’s when your eyes close on you again. You fall back into the warm lull of sleep, to the sound of a crackling fire, and a feeling that permeates throughout your body.

Safe.

Can’t fucking believe this, Dean thinks, as he holds you. Just when he thought his life was done throwing him curveballs.

He tips his head back against the sofa cushion with a tired exhale. It would just be his luck to find a stray omega wandering his stretch of Big Sky. Montana can be gnarly in the winter, but for the past couple of years, Dean has learned to survive here in this rental cabin for a couple of months at a time, when wandering an empty bunker gets to be too much. At least here the quiet’s peaceful, if still a little unnerving sometimes. 

He glances down at you. Now that you’re warm and sleeping again, he should find something to wrap your ankle and ice it down. It’s swollen, and he wants to take an inventory of your other injuries, so he can determine how to get you back down the mountain and through the woods, back to civilization.

The sooner he gets you medical attention and back to your life, the sooner he can get back to his—even though the thought of leaving you in anyone else’s hands almost stirs a growl in his throat.

And that last part unnerves him, makes him anxious. He begins to untangle himself from you, but his movements falter when your sweet scent filters through his nose again. Cinnamon apples, with a hint of something floral. 

Fuck me.

It’s almost too sweet to be true, but Dean does his best to ignore it…and what that alluring sweetness probably means. 

Dean leaves you in the morning to revisit the site where you fell. He digs through the snow and manages to find your backpack, filled with your clothes, supplies, and your phone and wallet. He returns just in time. 

The falling snow becomes even more intense, until it becomes a quiet roar outside. You watch the snowstorm through the impact windows in the kitchen, and you know what this means. You’re snowed in with a stranger—an alpha, no less. 

You also have a bum ankle, which he wrapped for you. Doesn’t feel broken, he’d said, but it could be fractured, or at the very least sprained. You also likely have a couple of cracked ribs. 

“What were you doing out there, anyway?” he asks, while pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “This ain’t exactly hiking season.”

While you drink some hot chocolate he made you with a bit of whiskey splashed in (for extra warmth), you explain.

“Well, I guess it wasn’t my best idea in hindsight,” you say with a weak chuckle. “I was trying to find my way back, and I…well, I was a bit lost.”

He raises his brows wryly, still sipping.

“And to make a great situation even better, I thought I heard a wolf howl nearby,” you say. “I know most of them would rather run from us than attack us, but you can’t be sure, you know? I had my rifle on me, so I was turning around, trying to pinpoint what direction it was in…and of course, my foot slipped on something.”

You fell down that hill. You think you even hit a tree on the way down, which would explain your ribs. Everything gets a bit swirly, cold, and dark in your memory after that. 

Dean shakes his head. “Gotta say, going out there alone wasn’t a great idea either, especially now. This time of year, there’s no telling when a blizzard like this is going to come through.”

He waves haphazardly toward the storm raging outside. Your gaze falls to the mug in your hands. You don’t really want to talk about your reasons for taking that risk, but maybe giving him a little honesty will get him off your back.

“My dad and I used to hike up here every year,” you confess. “A few months ago…I lost him. So I guess this was just something I needed to do.”

You blow on your hot chocolate before you take another sip. This time when you glance up, Dean’s judgy expression has evened out into something more sympathetic. He lowers his glass.

“Well, hate to break it to you, but there’s no cell service up here,” he says.

You give a humorless huff. “Believe me, I know.”

“Which means no one can come up here and get you,” he continues, “and even when this storm breaks, I can’t carry you all the way down the mountain back to civilization. Not with the snow as deep as it’s gonna get. Now…maybe I can go down by myself and bring help back with me.”

“But another storm could snow me in,” you realize, with growing apprehension at the thought.

Dean nods. “It’s either I take that chance, leave you by yourself. Or we wait for you to heal up.”

He leaves the choice up to you with a gesture of his hand, the one still wrapped around his glass. You weigh those options with a tilt of your head. On one hand, you don't want to impose on him longer than you had to, but on the other, you really don't want to be left alone in this cabin for God knows how long while he scales the mountain by himself, for your sake.

“I think it would be better if we go down together, right? It can be dangerous, even when the storm breaks,” you reply.

Dean nods slowly, like that was what he was going to suggest too. “All right. Well, until you’ve got two working legs, you’re stuck here with me.”

“I figured as much,” you say. Your head tilts as you consider him. He has a gruff exterior, but all his actions so far have been kind, and far more than you’d expect from a stranger. And an alpha at that. 

Not to say that all alpha's are assholes, but you've had far too many experiences with the stereotype: arrogant, entitled, and handsy. Can't forget handsy. 

“Thank you for saving me,” you say, meeting his gaze, “and for…well, being a decent guy.”

Dean’s lips twitch. He nearly chuckles. Instead, he sits back on his side of the couch. 

“Yeah, well, there’s a spare room in this place for you, one bathroom. The kitchen is stocked. I’m a half-decent cook, if I say so myself, but help yourself.”

He gets up from the couch without preamble, to go to his room, you assume. It leaves you feeling at a loss, like he’s trying to get away from you. You know you’re a guest in his space, so you try to respect the way he wants to be alone for a while. He definitely gives off loner vibes. 

You look around and find a collection of vinyl records, and smaller collection of books on a shelf next to the fireplace. You find Gulliver’s Travels, Dune, The Odyssey, The Wizard of Oz—books you didn’t think a guy like Dean would be into. 

You take up The Wizard of Oz, reclaim your spot on the chaise, and start reading.

That night, your dreams are plagued by the crunch of dead leaves, your father shouting at you to run, and to keep running.

The coarse roar of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short.  

You wake with a start, your body both cold and flush at the same time.

Dean is there once again. It confuses you at first, but then it all returns to you in a rush—the where and the why you’re here, once again with the alpha standing over you in concern. He grasps your shoulder and asks if you’re all right. Your breathing is too erratic for you to answer him, your eyes too wide, your body trembling.

Had you been making noise in your sleep? You blush in embarrassment at the thought. You also feel bad for waking him, and all those things get trapped in your throat.

Seeing that you’re most definitely not fine, he sits on the edge of the bed, squeezes your arm, and reminds you. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe here,” he tells you. His tone is deep and even, reassuring.

You meet his steady gaze and manage to nod, trying to catch your breath. 

“I’m okay,” you say, with a shaky nod. He gives you a measuring look, both a question and a confirmation. You give it to him with a firmer nod. “Thanks, I…I’m sorry I woke you up.”

He exhales through his nose, accepting. “‘S all right. Don’t worry about it.” 

You feel the loss of his touch when his hand eventually slip away from your shoulder. As soon as he came into your room, he’s gone. 

Dean leaves swiftly, trying to brush off how the scent of your fear had tugged sharply at his gut even in his sleep. It not only woke him up, but compelled him to kick his blankets off and get out of bed to go to you.  

You were having a nightmare, reliving your fall, if he had to guess. You came out of it pretty quick when he carefully grabbed your shoulder. Every instinct in his body told him to gather you into his arms and cover you with his own scent and protective embrace to calm you down. 

Through sheer willpower, he managed to ignore every single one of those instincts.  

Two days pass, in which you and Dean say very little to one another, besides when he asks you what you want to eat, and how you’re feeling. The alpha seems genuine, but guarded any time you ask him about him; anything that’ll give you a clue into who this guy is, and why he’s here. 

You try again to strike up some kind of conversation over dinner one night. 

“Do you live here year-round?” you ask, around a mouthful of burger that’s absolutely delicious. He wasn’t lying when he claimed to be a good cook. He even made the fries himself.

“No,” he replies. “No Netflix, no internet? Think I’d die of boredom. I just come up here to uh…take a beat, I guess.” 

You smile. “I don’t blame you. Sometimes you just need a break,” you say, even though your tone is heavier than you meant it to be. Your gaze, a bit distant in that moment, sharpens and focuses back on Dean. “Where are you from, then?”

“Kansas,” he offers.

“Oh really?” You brighten with that scrap of information. “My older sister lives in Topeka. She moved there for a job, initially, but then she met her guy. He’s some kind of day trader. Which is just code for sits on his ass playing Call of Duty while she busts hers.” 

Dean huffs, then crams more burger into his mouth. He hasn’t been giving you a lot to go on while you two have been talking. Unfortunately, you have the tendency to ramble and fill the silence before it becomes even more stifled. 

“She works at a bank. Smart, driven, always knows what she wants. Meanwhile, I’ve had about seven jobs in the last three years, none of which were even remotely related to my almost useless degree in Communications.”

“Yeah, doubt you need a degree in communicating,” Dean remarks, popping another fry into his mouth.

 You purse your lips at him, but the glint of teasing in his eyes makes you fight not to smile. 

“All right, smart guy. So, what about you?” you ask.

Predictably, the man’s walls firm back up. “What about me?”

“Well…why’re you up here alone? Do you have family?” you ask.

Dean quirks a half smile. “I’ve got a brother.”

“Okay. Younger, I’m guessing?”

He tilts his head at you, a bit amused at your guess. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I can’t imagine you with a brother who’s older than you.”

His lips twitch. “You callin’ me old, sweetheart?”

You begin to blush with embarrassment. But also, sweetheart?

You shake your head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean like…”

Dean saves you with the return of his smile.

“Yeah, he’s younger,” he says. “But he’s the one with the quasi-wife and the apple pie life.” 

“Quasi-wife?”

“They’re mated. Just haven’t gotten around to the whole getting hitched thing,” he explains. “But they’re happy. Dean Jr.’s growing up fast, already running full speed into glass doors.”

His smile is genuine when he talks about his brother, just tinged with a bit of melancholy, you think. 

“Dean Jr.?” you ask in amusement. Dean Sr. laughs a little, and you enjoy the sound, the way it lightens up his face and pulls at the corners of his eyes.

“Yeah, can’t say I wasn’t surprised myself to get that honor, but…hey, it works for the kid. He’s got my chin,” he remarks.

He digs into his pocket to show you a picture from his cell phone. Even though it doesn’t have service, you can still view the many pictures of the adorable infant in his camera roll, courtesy of Sam and his mate, Eileen. You coo at the chubby cheeks, the bright little eyes, and the swirled tuft of dark hair on his head.

“Where do they live?” you ask.

“Out west, a stone’s throw from the City of Angels.” Dean’s smile dims. “He just had to go back to California.”

“What’s wrong with California?” you ask.

“It’s full of pretentious douchebags, that’s what,” he says, his voice a dry whip. “Waxed up to the fucking eyeballs, smelling like Botox, Adderall, and sweaty desperation.”

You splutter laughing so bad that your diet coke escapes you in a spit take. It partially goes up into your nose, burning, stinging your eyes, but it’s made worse by the way Dean waves a hand up incredulously. You’ve just gotten half his sleeve wet.

He meets your gaze, and you can’t help but laugh even harder. 

“Wow,” he says. 

“God, I’m sorry,” you say, still giggling. You get up, hobble over to the kitchen counter, and rip off a paper towel to try and pat his arm dry. He takes it from you and helps you back into your seat.

“I got it, Spit Take. Just finish your food,” he says, if with a dancing gleam in his eyes.  

From then on, it becomes easier for you to pull the alpha into conversation. Besides reading, napping, and staring out the window while it snows, you don’t have much by way of entertainment. Not to mention the pain of trying to get around without crutches, as it also jostles your ribs. Dean often has to help you from one room to another, which of course, you get embarrassed by.

“I’m sorry!” you yelp, when he saves you from another crash landing in the hallway. You’re fresh out of a shower, and it had taken you twenty minutes just to figure out how to wash your hair on one leg, let alone dry yourself off and get your shirt and borrowed sweatpants on. The main problem in getting back to your room happened to be the pants themselves. Their length and bagginess made you slip.

At least Dean’s learned to ignore your apologies. He now holds you by the waist, having pulled you against his chest on reflex. With furrowed brows, he notices your pained hiss when you grab onto his arms for balance.

“You okay?” he asks with a note of alarm.

“Ribs,” you gasp. They’re throbbing sharply with his hold, especially after being rattled by the near fall.

He immediately adjusts his hold lower, holding your arm and hip to support you. His hands are strong, but gentle. The warmth and pressure of his touch rattles you more than almost falling into a heap. Cliché as it might be, your heart is beating faster, what seems like in and out of rhythm. A feeling you can’t name stirs and tugs at your lower belly when you hazard looking up into his eyes. They’re a nice shade of green, like a forest floor in the spring.

“You just go ass over tea kettle at any moment, huh?” he quips, his lips tugging upward. “Come on. Where were you headed?”

“To my room, wise guy,” you say wryly, even as your blush heats your face and neck. “But this is a great taxi service.”

He snorts. “Yeah, call it the Winchestermobile.”

“Winchester. That your last name? Like the rifle?” you ask, while he helps you carefully down the hall. He nods in confirmation.

“That’s interesting. You don’t meet many Winchesters,” you remark.

“Yeah, well, ain’t that many left,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, easing you down onto the edge of the bed. His hands go to his hips as he scrutinizes your form for further injury. “You good? I was about to get cracking on some lunch.”

You offer him a grateful smile. “Yeah, I’m good. What’s on the menu?”

“Nothing fancy. I’m thinking grilled cheese. Maybe some tomato soup, assuming I can find a can in the pantry,” he says.

“Honestly, that sounds awesome,” you say. “Haven’t had a grilled since…God, probably since I was a kid.”

At that, Dean smiles. “Well, I happen to make an awesome one. No less than three kinds of cheese.”

“If they’re as good as your burgers, then I don’t doubt it,” you reply. He seems pleased at that, and maybe a little bashful as his gaze falls away.

Cute, you think. Your smile grows.

“All right, well, stay tuned,” he says. He winks, tossing you a “gun for hand” gesture that makes you laugh. Dean wears a rugged exterior as easily as his winter jacket, but he’s also kind of a dork.

After lunch (delicious, as you predicted), you take the afternoon just to sort through Dean’s records and alphabetize them for him. You hunker down on the floor in front of the shelf, close to the record player. 

“I don’t need all that. I know where all my stuff is…more or less,” he says, with a lazy wave of the beer he has in hand. 

“Oh really?” you raise a brow. “Okay, let’s test that theory. Where’s Boston.” 

“Right next to the White Album, there on the left.”

Sure enough, you find Boston, as well as the White Album by the Beatles.  

“Oh my God, you actually have the White Album?” You open up the double-sided case in excitement to read the list of songs printed on the inside. “This thing is so expensive.” 

“Beatles fan, huh?” Dean says as he takes a seat on the couch. You turn your smile on him, and he stills in his seat.

“Uh, yeah. Who isn’t?” you say.

Dean shrugs with a smile of his own. “Put it on if you want.”

You bounce a little with excitement before you figure out how to turn on his record player. You put the vinyl album on Side B, moving the needle until you find “Blackbird.”

“Of course,” Dean says, slightly teasing. You turn to him with crunched brows.  

“What? ‘Blackbird’s’ a classic.”

“Eh. Everyone likes ‘Blackbird.’”

“That’s what a classic means,” you argue.

“More like a mainstream copout,” he says. You think it’s just to needle you, but you still purse your lips. 

“Fine, Mr. Music Snob. Then what’s your favorite?”

“On the White Album?”

“Any Beatles song.”

“‘Hey, Jude,’” he says, after a moment. There’s some kind of weight in his eyes, a note of melancholy. You don’t miss it, even though you don’t know why it’s there.

“Everyone likes ‘Hey, Jude,’” you quip, trying to lighten him. 

He smiles a little. “Yeah. Fair enough.”

Finally, the snowstorm breaks. Dean ventures outside and brings you back a long, sturdy stick to lean your weight on when you want to move around, though he claims he’s working on a better solution. Now that the snow has let up, he’ll be able to go out to the shed and do some work. 

Whatever that means, you think.

You watch him from the living room when he goes outside to chop some more firewood. 

He should really wear a hat. His brown hair is getting dusted white with snow flurries as he continues to swing down the ax. You notice the power in his tall frame, even covered by layers of his jacket, pants, and boots. You almost feel each chop of the wood resonate in your chest. 

Heat rises in your cheeks when he looks up, as if he senses he’s being watched. You bow your head and pretend to read your book.

His boots continue to crunch in the snow as he makes trips back and forth from the surrounding forest. Aside from the firewood, he brings back a few long, thinner logs that he takes to the shed. Soon you begin to hear the steady back-and-forth cutting of a saw. You wish you could go out there and take a look, but you can’t even get around the house that easily, let alone venture outside.

Your curiosity about this man knows no bounds, and you decide to use the walking stick he found for you in the meantime to get around without putting pressure on your injured ankle. You know it’s wrong, but you end up traversing the long, dark hallway, pushing open the door to the right, and venturing into Dean’s room. 

It smells like him, earthy and tinged with smoke. His scent is seeped into every part of it—the bed, the dresser and nightstands, the dark blue bedsheets, the desk and chair, and even the drapes. It makes you almost lightheaded at the pleasurable feeling of it washing over you.

A shudder suddenly runs down your spine and tugs at your core in arousal. With a sharp intake of breath, you have to shift on your feet, pressing your legs together against the slick already forming down below.

You’re shocked and embarrassed at first. You aim to bolt out of his room, but you stop short in the doorway as it dawns on you.

Your sister is a beta, and so is her husband. She’s never completely understood you as an omega. She never understood your parents either, or the bond they had. She always scoffed at the idea of “true mates.”

Soulmates. It was fantasy and myth, the stuff of cheesy Harlequin novels.

Growing up, you’d agreed with her, even though a part of you deep down always protested. It wanted to tell her not to open her mouth about something she knew nothing about, and would never know. 

The day you met Dean, you knew she was wrong. 

Your more logical mind tries again to reassert itself though. You remind yourself that you barely know anything about this man, no matter how attractive, kind, funny, enigmatic… 

And yet, you can’t shake that part of you that doesn’t rest until you see his face in the morning; until you make him coffee and eat breakfast together, and take any opportunity to pull more threads from him. It’s more than passing attraction. It’s more than just being stuck together in this cabin, unable to escape each other. You know, because the feeling scares you, and it electrifies your blood at the same time.

All these thoughts go through your mind when you turn back around. Slowly, you continue to look around his room, your whole body tingling. The room is neat, more or less, with everything in its proper place. It’s pretty bare though, décor wise. There’s a desk with a few scattered books and a journal sandwiched in between. A smile of surprise forms across your face.

No. Don’t tell me this guy is Mr. Dear Diary? you think in amusement. Though you wonder if it’s another way he passes his time here, especially when he’s holed up in his room.

You know you shouldn’t be snooping, let alone contemplating what you’re about to do…but you can’t help yourself. Biting your lip, you slide out the journal and begin to flip through it. 

You frown at the strange drawings and odd entries—dates, narratives, scraps of information on different types of mythological creatures, and even more strange, on how to kill them. 

What the hell is this?

That’s when you hear the front door swing open. You bolt from his room as quick as you can, not realizing you took the journal with you in your haste. You stuff it up your sweater and pretend like you’ve just come out of the bathroom on the way back to your room. There you slide the journal under your pillow. You jump when Dean knocks on your door.

“Hey,” he greets.

The jolting pains your ribs, and your hand goes to your left side in a hiss. 

“You okay?” he asks, brows furrowing in concern. He takes a step into your room, but you turn to him with a nod and a placating hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You just scared me,” you say, with a bit of nervous laughter.

He gives a half smile. “Sorry. Just come ‘ere a sec. I wanna show you something.”

He reaches out a hand to help guide you to the living room.

There he presents you with two rudimentary crutches. Your eyes widen as your free hand passes over the smooth chestnut color of the wood. Dean keeps a light hold on your elbow, just in case.

“You made these?” you ask.

“Yeah, just a bit of woodworking. Picked it up over the last couple of years,” he says.

He’s downplaying it, but you’re nothing short of marveling. You set aside the walking stick in favor of picking up the crutches, and they’re even the right size to position them under your arms.

“Now you don’t have to hobble around like Long John Silver,” Dean quips. You meet the sight of his grin with a raised brow, but you soon begin to smile. When you get close enough to him, you lean the crutches against the couch and give him a warm hug, resting your head on his chest.

“Thank you,” you say. It’s something he was wholly unprepared for, but he hugs you back with a chuckle.

“Uh, you’re welcome.”

Just then, he tries not to inhale your scent. He tries not to focus on the feeling of your body pressed soft and warm against his. You fit just right. 

After a beat, you have mercy on him and pull away. You take your crutches back up and continue to walk around the living room experimentally. 

“You think I’d be okay trying to go outside?” you ask on your way to the door. Dean tenses.

“Uh, I don’t think—”

But you’re already halfway out the door. He shakes his head and follows you with swift strides. He watches you step out carefully onto the porch like a baby deer. He cleared the snow this morning from the deck and the steps, but he’s more concerned when he sees you considering how you might step out onto the snow.

“Stay on the porch, all right, Bambi,” he warns. “You’re not wearing snow boots and it’s still pretty deep. Not to mention, I’ve been keeping an eye out for a bear that wandered through here last week—”

You turn to look at him over your shoulder in amusement.

“Okay, Alpha. Calm down,” you say playfully. “I’m not gonna go ass over tea kettle.”  

His brow twitches as he frowns. Alpha. He fights not to show his reaction to the way you said it; it calls to his baser instincts, almost stirring a rumble in his chest.

Cheeky little omega.

You keep to the porch, but regardless, you’re happy. You don’t even mind the cold. You see your breath on the air, and you tip your head back, closing your eyes with a smile as the sunshine warms your face. You inhale through your nose and let it out slowly in contentment. 

“It’s a good day, Dean,” you say quietly. 

You don’t realize that he’s watching you with a more reserved smile on his face. When he realizes it, he shakes his head at himself. He’s only been here a week with you, and it’ll probably take a couple more for your ankle to heal up well enough for you to walk again, let alone get down the mountain. 

He doesn’t want to leave you alone up here, so he’ll have to somehow keep fending off your probing questions into his past and personal life. There's a lifetime of blood, nightmares, and death that he just can't let you see behind his eyes.

Hell, he's been trying to shove it all down for the past year—in booze and odd jobs and trips to nowhere, always coming back to an empty bunker. He still wonders how Sam's managed to do it, to move on, and build a new life for himself.

If Dean's honest (and he's not), he feels a bit like this cabin; old, falling apart, and forgotten.

But he’ll have to keep taking in your brightness and warmth, continue arguing with you about music and other inane shit, and pretend that every small touch of yours doesn’t ignite his skin. That it doesn’t make him have to beat down every instinct he has to pull you into his body and blanket you with his scent, ravage you, claim you, and make you his. 

He never thought this would happen to him. He never thought someone like you was out there…for someone like him.

He knows it though, deep in his gut. You’re meant for him. You’re meant to be his mate.

Which means he’s already screwed. 

AN: And we're off! Special thanks again to Michelle (@luci-in-trenchcoats) for being my sounding board when I was first writing this series. Let me know what you think of Part 1! 💜

Next Time:

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed…

When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

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[choccy-milky]

Okay so I read your entire fic in three days and I LOVE IT!? ITS SO GOOD!?! I am supposed to be studying for finals and instead have spent 72 hours definitely not doing that. I originally got into your fic because I saw your drawings from different scenes and OH MY GOD THEYRE AMAZING. The way you draw Seb makes me want to bang my head on the table (in the best way ever)…that boy does things to me. The whole thing is just uGHHH chefs kiss amazing work love it love you amazing

AWW TYY IM GLAD YOU LIKED IT SM (ENOUGH TO BINGE IT AND IGNORE SCHOOL) AND THAT YOU LIKE HOW I DRAW SEB TOO💖💖😍😍😍

LMAOO but fr as a procrastinator and horrible student myself, im pleased with this theme of interfering with ppls schoolwork/thesis/whatever else to read my fic...im dragging yall down with me...just stop using your brain and enjoy sexy seb aha😜 (ILY TOO GOOD LUCK ON UR FINALS)

@jstfndmthngs omg thank you for such a long and in depth ask i hope u dont mind i just screenshotted it and cut it into 2 BAHAHA but THANK YOUU im glad youre enjoying it so far!! 🥹💖AND YESSS BAHAHA IVE ALSO BRAINWASHED YOU TO SEE SEB AND CLORA WHEN YOU SEE A BLONDE + BROWN HAIR COUPLE mission accomplished😈😈 and I LOVE THAT YOU DAYDREAM ABOUT SEB AND CLORA TOO!!! people thinking about your fic/art when theyre not actively reading it is the highest honour fr...😭🙏 AND BAHAHA I REMEMBER THAT COMMENT THREAD ABOUT LEANDER AND HIS LITTLE GARDEN PATCH LMAO and him and seb competing as neighbors/dads over who has the better yard...LMAO im putting in my oneshot that leander lives close by, i might try and find a way to allude to that if i can LMAOO speaking of IM GLAD YOURE LOOKING FORWARD TO THE ONESHOT 💖💖 ive been working on the outline every day the past few days and its 24k words AND THATS JUST THE OUTLINE😭😭LIKE DAWG i was planning on this oneshot to just be short and sweet BAHAHA but i forgot im fluent in yappanese...then i just kept thinking of cute pregnancy moments i wanted to add so it spiralled....BUT ANYWAY I HOPE I CAN FINISH IT SOON!!🙏 also im so impressed you only read 1 chap of my fic a day BAHAHA i admire the self restraint bc i could never...but i feel you with wanting to make things last. LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU CATCH UP!!🥳AND TY AGAIN!!💖💖

omg anon this is diabolical...at first i was imagining it as seb being the one caught in the time loop and going crazy, but i actually think its better if its clora... because the idea of seb watching her slowly spiral into semi-insanity while knowing its bc of some weird time shenanigans and he doesnt know how to help would also make SEB go crazy BAHAHAH. i dont think ill ever write this but i just wanted to tell u i love this idea LOL

aw TYYYYY!!! i’m honoured u think so omg😭🥹💖 you sent this a while ago (before all of the recent family posting ive been doing) BAHAHA so i hope youre enjoying the kid content bc u manifested it girl🥰 and trust me i aint doing work for the fandom, the fandom is doing work for ME!!! by continuing to humour my brainrotted ass😔🙏

"they're my legal parents now" followed by "so anyway can you draw them going down on each other" LMFAOOOOO💀💀💀thank you i love you anon. and i HAVE been wanting to draw this for a while so YES!! i just cant guarantee when...but the day SHALL come rest assured🫡😇

[tuesdaykiss]

“touching toes”

rafe cameron social media au

“he’s over more and more, had to give him a whole drawer. to be honest, kinda like seeing his trainers by the door.” — olivia dean, ‘touching toes’.

synopsis: after finishing her fashion studies at college in nyc, y/n moves to outerbanks to live with her grandparents. she worries about the loneliness that comes with being in a new place, knowing only her cousin topper and other relatives… that is until she is acquainted with a certain cameron.

part — 3 | 4 | 5

masterlist

your phone

you look over at the boy lying next to you; he’s fell back into a peaceful slumber. it’s tempting to brush the hair out of his face… but you resist the urge.

clearing your throat in a failed attempt to wake him, your voice cuts through the silence of the room, “uh, rafe?”

he presses his eyes shut hard, in an act of protest; groaning out at the sudden loudness of your voice. a defeated sigh leaves you, before repeating yourself.

“yeah?”

“i should get going…”

his eyes meet yours, and for a fleeting moment, you swear you catch a hint of disappointment. it’s subtle, but unmistakable. his lips part slightly, as though a response was on the tip of his tongue, but just as quickly, they press shut — like he had thought better of it, burying whatever words had been developing.

rafe stretches, and you watch him intently as he moves around the sheets. the pair of you make eye contact; it’s burdened by a feeling of unspoken words that hang between you both.

lips smacking together, the atmosphere of the room grows awkward as rafe grasps his phone before saying, “well, don’t let me keep you.”

slight embarrassment washes over you, as you shuffle on the bed, “right… uh, t-thank you — for last night.”

with just a smile in response, you collect your belongings that are scattered across his wooden flooring before spinning on your heels, nodding in his direction and exiting his room.

rafe’s phone

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sarahcameron modelling is so much funner when you’ve got a hot photographer @/yourusername

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yourusername easy to be a photographer when you’ve got hot friends

sarahcameron are you flirting with me?

yourusername yes

johnbr mine ❤️

user3 you tell them john b

sarahupdates our gorgeous model!

user that’s the girl from the party

user2 omg yeah, rafe’s party

your phone

a/n: i can’t tell if this is moving really fast or really slow… also realised i gave her interests and just haven’t included them so here we go!

also the reason sarah hangs with both groups like it’s nothing, is the kooks won’t kick her out due to her fame (plus its rafe’s sister) — they’re really riding off of her lol.

doesn’t mean they aren’t secret haters!

[fangirl-docintraining]

Curtis Gang as iconic 90 Day Fiancé quotes because I’ve been watching this show for a decade and also I’m going crazy studying for my internal medicine exam

“Don’t try to swindle me with cake.” Darry when he’s mad and they’re trying to calm him down

“Things are about to get a little bit more stupider” Steve and Soda, who are about to do something so chaotic

“You Ninja turtle penguin batman ass bitch” Ponyboy to Steve when Steve pissed him off once

“Almost there, lazy” Dally to Ponyboy and Johnny when they’re complaining about him making them walk all across town

“I work so much work” again, Darry, no further questions thx

“I am not accountant” Two Bit when asked about the money he owes multiple ppl

“Slut.. Sorry, I mean Bitch” Steve

I'm attracted to her, but just like 55 percent" Dally after Sylvia cheated on him

“You just changed the whole history of our future” Idc it’s giving Ponyboy

“Y’all got any Texas margarita? this place is a desert for Texas margarita” Betty

“You're breath is... not pretty” Johnny absolutely roasting the fuck outta one of the socs when they least expect it (this combined with Ponyboy’s comments they are def running for their lives)

“I’m not like… work oriented” Two Bit lmfao

“I love cook my sister so much” Soda when Betty makes dinner

“Who is against the queen will die” Steve making fun of Ponyboy because Soda and Darry took Ponyboy’s side

“Bitch ass slut ass whore” Betty when she REALLY gets ranting about something lol

“When you go to bed without cuddle me, I ask why? Why she do this?” Soda when anyone tells him they don’t currently want him to lay on them like a human blanket

“I did the BJ for real” Dally finally admitting to that crime he swore he had nothing to do with when the gang had to cover for him

“I have a trauma from that” Johnny (I’m sorry Johnny)

“Men’s don’t control me” Betty

[marcusnotbrutus]

Comments on Falsettos recording describing people's experience with pre-revival casts & being gay in the 80's and 90's

for @holdwinetosky

“I lived in Manhattan in 1981, met my husband that year.  We lived through the AIDS drama of real life on the Upper West Side. This show speaks to me on So many different levels.

Saw this production  on Broadway shortly after it opened. Crazy, Intense, Wonderful .

Just like it was in 1990 as Falsettoland at the Lucille Lortel, and when it first moved to Broadway as Falsettos in 1992. Saw the original casts of each, and each production multiple times (1 time with Mandy Patinkin as Marvin), saw the road companies that came to Philadelphia........etc...lol

Freakin Love this Show."

@ rugby8-Philadelphia 

“Saw a traveling company which came through Phoenix, AZ. I left Manhattan in '81 as numerous friends were getting ill and shortly thereafter died.  This show made me laugh out loud AND cry out loud!”

David Helmstetter (@ davidhelmstetter6661)

“Thank you. You signed my program when I was a kid. I waited by the stage door. My Mom didn't want to see the show at the time. She turned into the most accepting woman and this musical changed my life. xo”

@ castChicagoactors

“An absolute perfect moment in theater... this opened in nyc in 1990!!!!! We all had just lost lovers and friends and it was still raging without any meds.  Vowing to "buy the farm arm in arm" was and still is the most moving loving words to hear so beautifully sung”

Jeff Schecter (@ jeffschecter4543)

“I saw Falsettoland at the Theatre De Lys in the Village shortly after my brother Marty died of AIDS, and I have never cried so hard in my life as during "What More Can I Say" and "Unlikely Lovers."  I cried so hard that in part of my brain I thought someone might escort me out of the theatre, but there was nothing I could do about it, Michael Rupert you gave voice to everything I felt and there was no stopping it.  Thank you thank you thank you.  Of course saw the short multiple times on Broadway and afterwards in various productions and I will just never forget this song and that moment until every brain cell I've got has given up and every memory is erased because this is the such an honest statement of what love is all about.  To all of you in the show and William Finn I am forever grateful.”

David Fleischer (@ davidfleischer455)

“Thanks for posting, Michael.  Today, after 29 years together, my husband and I are legally married in our state of Georgia.”

@ theBestArts

“I have seen many Broadway musicals in my day. Over one hundred original and first run shows since 1980. I can honestly say without heistation that Falsettos in 1992 is the best musical I have ever seen in NY. The ensemble cast, simple set, lyrics, and use of character to tell a story is a perfect example of theatre art. Every theater lover should have seen this one, it is a masterpiece. Chip Zien and Barbara Walsh shine in every performance they give.”

@ muscled57

“I saw March of the Falsettos in 1980 and marvelled at it's musical brilliance and ended up seeing it half a dozen times. Then I saw Falsettoland a decade later which devastated me with it's sensitivity and humanity. Years later I saw a regional production of Falsettos which is the combination of the two shows and was enchanted and remain grateful to Mr Finn for writing such a masterpiece of musical theatre that I could see again and again.”

@ donovan3535

“I was fortunate enough to be reach up and touch Mr. Patinkin at the Golden Theatre in February, 1993, during his run with this amazing show. Those who don't think he made a good Marvin: I have to disagree with you completely. The man is one of the best American talents alive today and gave an amazing performance, in my opinion.”

@ dyabolykyll

“I can't believe I've never seen this before. I've sobbed all the way through the second act. Such strong memories of my dear friend Sammy, who died in 1993. The last time I visited him with my kids, he asked if he could change my daughter's diaper, and afterwards he cried because I wasn't afraid.

 It hits so hard for those of us who were young adults when AIDS came on the scene. People were afraid to be in the same room with someone who had it, much less to touch them. It made hand holding and hugs mean so much more."

@ VeracityLH

[thatgirlwithasquid]

ooo okay this looks fun (and i am procrastinating like a bitch rn so...)

Hm, I'm not sure. Maybe The Naming of Hobbits by @andhumanslovedstories? It was one of the first fics I read when I got into using AO3 and I remember it giving me a good giggle. I really should go back and reread it. It must've been years since I've read it by now... And yet I still think of it fondly as 'that funny The Hobbit fic' so it clearly left a very good impression :)

So many. So many make me cry. I've reread Time Falls Away by @not-close-to-straight like three times I think? And each time the line 'I don't know this part of the story' has me UGLY SOBBING. Love it. Absolutely an amazing read. I still haven't worked my way up to the third fic in the series cause the emotions are still too strong rn, but I am very excited for whenever I finally do! I also gotta mention All Is Fair In Love by @stranger-awakening cause OH MY GOD nothing has ever hurt me like this fic hurt me. The pain. It just kept getting worse. It was so good but I needed frequent breaks when reading cause the emotions were So Much. I'm also just realising I never kudosed that fic and OMG I AM SO SORRY. I was too caught up in the throes of agony, I apologise!!

My comfort fic is definitely Petey and Wade discuss the proper way to go about vigilantism (and maybe they fall in love too) by @isadancurtisproduction. I have read that fic at least once a year since I first came across it. I love it so much, it's insane. It may even be my all time favourite fanfic

I am gonna have to say Rapture by mia_ugly on AO3. I read it out of morbid curiosity and I have not been the same since. This is the fic that introduced me to this type of time travel fics, where the time travel muddies the relationships and makes everything angsty and confusing and secretive. It is my FAVOURITE kind of angst and I have read multiple other fics with the same trope since. I adore them <3

Oh, 100% @sheena-is-a-punk-rocker. Since I read all your quinnflag fics and loved them so much I started on my own quinnflag wip. Started off thinking 'how would they have gotten together before The Suicide Squad?' like they are in your The Suicide Squad but Rick and Harley are already dating series (which is such a fun read and deserves all the love!!) and my wip has become its own thing from there :)

Lol I'm not the best authority for this since I do not read much fic for either of my main fandoms (sorry Stranger Things and The World of Mr Plant!) but I definitely think @kittyphoenix12-xx's work deserves so much more love. I need to read more of your fics, babes, cause the ones I have read are SO good. I TREASURE that cunningway fic you gifted to me, and getting to beta a couple of your works was such an honour. I especially loved the stars look down and know, cause it's so so sweet!!!

Good question... Commenting, I guess. That's the obvious answer. And I really need to work on it myself (and I'm trying!!) but we could always do with more commenting. Authors love seeing it so we need to do our part more (which is why I'm tagging the authors in this despite being a bit nervous about that lol, cause you guys deserve hearing how wonderful I think your fics are :) )

I really don't know. I don't like telling people not to do things cause I think that's just rude. Fanfic is for fun, and if you like doing something that someone else thinks there's too much of then fuck them! Have fun with it cause that's all that matters. I see people complaining about certain things from time to time and just think 'well... you could just... not?' Maybe that's what I wish there was less of in fandom: people feeling the need to make a fuss when they don't like something, cause most of the time when I see it it's over the most non-problem things.

Alternative Fic Recs

Fic recs are a great way to introduce people to stories you love. But instead of a list, you could try this format instead? I've tried it before and I really liked it, as it made me think about the fics I've read differently.

This isn't a tag game or an ask game. You can copy, repost, reblog, share and edit this at will if you're looking to do a fic rec :)

The fic that's made you laugh the most?

What's a fic that makes you cry?

Your fave comfort, silly fic?

The fic that made you try a genre or a trope you wouldn't normally read.

An author that's inspired your own fic writing (if you're an author), or your TBR list (if you're a reader).

Your fave "underdog" fics/authors in your fandom(s). Those that you feel are underappreciated and deserve some love.

What's one thing you wish writers/readers/the fandom did more of when it comes to fanfiction?

What's one thing you wish writers/readers/the fandom did less of when it comes to fanfiction?

[creatingblackcharacters]

Just wanted to drop by to say I really enjoyed your latest lesson, I went back and forth in a TikTok comment section with someone who was trying to tell me phrases like “mother” isn’t AAVE but queer and ballroom culture and I was like,,,, but who was leading ballroom culture? What ethnicity of queer people invented those words? It was tiring lol, I should redirect them to your lesson but they won’t listen 😭

Lmao listen there are people who were presented with my lesson who are still apparently arguing "mother" and me being a bitch in my notes. So. You could redirect them to the lesson! But some people can't be spoken to, no matter the social media, and that's not your issue. You did your job of pointing it out, and that's all you can do.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

*slamming the table*

IF INSPIRATION STRIKES I NEED A PART 2 OF THE GHOST ONEEEEEE

In The Sight Of Ghosts: part 2 (18+)

TLR!Turtles (Michelangelo) x reader

Part 1 (Suggestive) (18+?)

A/N: *Slamming back on the table* Inspiration struck, so after a few days of writing, I have a part 2! Honestly, I think I can play around with this concept in many more stories to come. Stand alone one shots or something else, IDK. Only the future will tell. Anyway, hope you’ll enjoy🖤

Mikey is in his 40’s. The reader is in their early 20’s. Leo, Raph and Donnie are in their early to mid 20’s.

Warnings: Raph being gross I guess, age difference, mentioning of ghosts and dead brothers, ghost voyeurism, ghost instructions, ghost masturbation, spanking, doggy, mentioning of missionary, implied sex in the future. I think that was all, lol.

When Raph said he was going to find a way, he certainly meant it. It was now his personal goal to find a way to push Mikey over the limit in some way, so that he would - in Raph’s own words - finally dick out his frustrations. And he had no intentions of stopping, no matter how angry Mikey would get. No matter how hard Mikey tried to ignore him and his brothers. Raph just kept going. And it was always whenever you were around. Raph could never just leave you alone. Whenever you entered Mikey’s field of view, Raph was on you, doing some lewd acts that only Mikey and his brothers could see. If you passed Mikey in the hallway, Raph would make a show of making it look like he was about to pin you against the wall. If you stood somewhere in the room, Raph would walk up to you, and place his hands somewhere, making it look like he was groping you. Hands on your ass and chest, his ghost hands fondling you like an animal, smirking in the direction of Mikey and the others. And it made Mikey’s blood boil, trying his best not to watch as Raph acted like he was grinding your hips together in a lewd act. Mikey’s anger and frustration was so strong that even Leo and Donnie could see it.

“Maybe you should do it”, Donnie said, as Raph came with overplayed moans from the couch were you sat, holding your face and thrusting his hips like he was fucking your face, while you - totally unbothered - read the book in front of you. “You obviously find her interesting, and well… she is pretty”.

“Don’t you start as well”, Mikey groaned, just low enough so you wouldn’t hear it, leaning further down over the book that laid in front of him on the table.

“I’m only trying to help”, Donnie said, watching as Raph crouched down in front of you, trying to get a better look at your chest through your shirt. “And, well, if I was in your position, I might have done it by now”. That comment caused Mikey to give Donnie a look that could kill. Had Donnie actually been alive, this look might as well have been what killed him.

“Calm down, Mikey. Just ignore them”, Leo said, from his other side, with his shell facing the show Raph was trying to put on.

“You can’t ignore me forever”, Raph said, having taken a seat next to you on the couch, where he smoothed his hand over your hair, watching you like a predator would watch its prey. “Especially not the day when you start imagining my dick in her instead of yours”.

This comment seemed to trigger something within Mikey. If his blood was boiling, it was now bobbling over the lid. Mikey tried his best to restrain himself, but he just couldn’t, slamming the book in front of him shut, causing you to yelp in shock from the couch, looking at Mikey in shock. However Mikey avoided your eyes, quickly picking up the book from the table, before making his way to his room. You sat in confusion, watching as he left, unaware of the three ghosts that were hot on his heels, following him down the hallway.

He quickly hurried into his room before slamming the door behind him. With a growl he flung the book across the room, before slumping down on the bed, elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands.

“Seems like I touched a soft spot there”, Raph chuckled, earning him an eye roll from Leo.

“Just stop it, and leave her alone”, Mikey mumbled, still not looking up from the floor beneath him.

“Who are you talking to?”

Mikey flinched at the sound of your voice, looking up to find you in his doorway, slowly making your way into his room. The three ghosts stayed quiet, giving each other a look as if they knew something Mikey didn’t.

“No one”, Mikey said, rubbing his hands against the fabric of his overall. “Just… myself”.

“Ah”, you said, staying quiet for a moment. You looked at the door in thought, before you - to Mikey’s surprise - closed it. You turned and walked over to Mikey on the bed, before taking a seat next to him. This even made his brothers silent as they watched you with intent. Mikey felt his fingers getting clammy as he tried to avoid eye contact with you, suddenly finding the sight of the floor under his feet very interesting.

“Mikey… have I done something wrong?”, you suddenly asked, catching Mikey off guard. But the next part almost made his heart stop. “I’ve noticed you… looking at me. You seem… mad… So I was wondering if I did something”.

Mikey finally looked at you, staring directly into your beautiful eyes, feeling a pit opening in his stomach. It was never his intention… He never wanted you to think it was you he looked at… Oh god no…

“No”, Mikey said, shaking his head, ignoring Raph who started moving around out of the corner of his eye. “I’m not mad at you. You haven’t done anything wrong”.

“Then why are you looking at me… like you are?”, you asked, your voice so small it almost broke Mikey’s heart.

“It’s hard to explain… But I’m not mad at you, and I never have been, (Y/N)”.

You placed a hand on Mikey’s knee, almost making him choke on his own breath as he did so. It was then he noticed just how close you were to him. How you had been leaning closer, ever since you first took a seat next to him. The revelation made his heart beat hard and fast behind his plastron. That was when he noticed a smell. A wonderful smell taking over the room. What was that smell? Whatever it was, he wanted more of it.

“Can you at least try to explain it?”, you asked, your voice low and soft, sounding smooth in Mikey’s ear.

“I’m not sure how”, Mikey said, suddenly finding himself very fixated on your lips. How soft they looked and just how close they were. Just a little further, and he might just be able to… god, he really wanted to…

“You don’t have to use words”, you whispered, sending shivers throughout Mikey’s body.

“Kiss her”, Raph's voice suddenly sounded from somewhere to the side. “Come on Mikey. Kiss her”.

Mikey found himself continuously staring down at your lips, contemplating whether or not he should do it. It was so tempting. So tempting…

“He’s right, Mikey”, Leo said. “Do it. Kiss her”.

And with that, Mikey slowly leaned in, closing the gap between the two of you, connecting your lips in a soft kiss. You kissed him back less than a second later, turning your sweet kiss passionate in an instant, with one of your hands coming up to rest on Mikey’s plastron. The wonderful smell in the room grew stronger as Mikey’s big hands came to a rest on your hips, before slowly making their way up.

“You smell that?”, Donnie asked, sniffing around the room.

“Uuuh, she likes it”, Raph laughed. “Give her some tongue, Mikey. I bet she will love it”.

And finally, Mikey allowed himself to do as Raph told him, poking at your lips with his larger tongue, asking for entrance, while one of his hands came to rest on your cheek. You reacted with a sound, much closer to a moan than anything else, opening your mouth and granting him access. Without breaking the kiss you then rose ever so slightly from the bed, before making your way onto Mikey’s lap, straddling him as he leaned further into your increasingly needy kiss, letting small sounds of pleasure escape you.

“Shit”, Mikey heard Donnie mumble as he took in the sight before them, before taking a seat on a chair in the opposite side of the room.

Mikey placed his hands on your bottom as you slowly grinded yourself against him, allowing him to control and increase the speed at which you did it, your breathing becoming heavier and heavier.

“I knew she would be hot”, Raph said, taking a seat at the foot of the bed, so he could get a better look at you.

You then suddenly broke from the kiss, making Mikey fear for a moment that you had been able to hear Raph. But when you then reached for your shirt before pulling it off and throwing it across the room, letting it fly straight through Leo’s form, leaving your top half in nothing but an old see through bra, leaving very little to Mikey’s imagination. You gave Mikey a bright smile, before diving back down into your needy kiss, moaning against his mouth as one of his hands came to massage your breasts. Your hands started fumbling with the straps of Mikey’s overalls in order to undo them. Mikey’s hands moved from your chest to your pants, where he started pulling them down one leg after the other, before throwing them onto the chair Donnie was sitting on. You sat back down on Mikey’s lap, grinding against him once more, with your smell of arousal stronger than ever before. Mikey could feel himself as he was about to drop inside of his overalls, his thick member already aching to be inside of you.

“Time to see if that ass jiggles”, Raph said, his own hand groping at the forming bulge in his pants. And so Mikey did, letting his large hand come down on your left ass cheek with a loud smack, causing you to yelp out loud in pleasure.

“Mikey!”, you cried, letting your head fall to rest against his shoulder. “Please, Mikey, please”.

“Fuck”, Leo groaned, finding himself completely absorbed by what he was watching. “What’s she begging for?”

“Please what, (Y/N)?”, Mikey asked, smoothing his hand over where he had just slapped you.

“Please just fuck me, Mikey!”, you begged.

“Holy shit”, Donnie exclaimed from his chair, where he too had started to feel himself through his pants, all while Leo stood in total silence, his eyes fixated on you and your movements.

“Tell her to get naked”, Raph said, getting ready to pull himself out of his pants. “Ass up”.

Mikey did just as Raph had told him, and gave your ass another smack, before telling you to get naked and get on the bed. You stood up with no hesitation, taking your bra and underwear off in eagerness, before getting on your knees and elbows on Mikey’s bed, unaware that you were facing directly towards Raph.

Mikey made quick work of his overalls, taking in the way your eyes widened when you saw his member spring free from its confinements. And if it was even possible, the scent of your arousal grew stronger once more. Mikey got behind you on the bed, taking in the sight of your juice cunt before him, already feeling dizzy at the thought of you around him. The sight of you, mixed with your scent and under wonderful sounds, Mikey felt his own urge and need growing within him, getting more and more desperate to feel you clench around him.

Mikey placed a hand on your left cheek, before grabbing a hold of his member with the other, guiding it through your folds, picking up your slickness as he went, before giving your ass a sudden slap, causing you to let out another needy moan, begging him once again, your hands gripping onto the sheets of his bed beneath you.

“Please, Mikey! Please!”

With a groan at the sound of your begging, Mikey began pushing himself into your tight hole, moaning when he felt your walls tightening around him. You let out a flurry of lewd sounds as you took in Mikey’s massive size, sinking further and further into you. Mikey’s eyes were glued to the sight of his member slowly disappearing into you, using his hold on your hips to sink you further along his length. However, should Mikey have taken his eyes off of you and looked to Raphael, he would have found the ghost with his member in his hand, slowly working his hand along it as he focused in on your pleasured expression. At the other side of the room, Donnie too was about to wrap his own hand around his member, eyes intently locked on you. Leo was the only one that still hadn’t opened or pulled off his pants, yet his dilated and hungry eyes never left you.

Mikey stayed still inside of you, letting you get used to his impressive size. But when you started wiggling and swaying your hips in front of Mikey, showing him just how needy and inpatient you were getting.

“Ask her what she wants”, Leo suddenly said, his voice low as he spoke, obviously affected by what he was watching.

Mikey started rubbing your behind, keadling you flesh in his large hands. “What do you want me to do, (Y/N)?”, he asked, taking joy in how you started shaking in his hands. “Use your words”.

“Please, just move, Mikey”, you whimpered, trying to back yourself up against him. “Move. Fuck me. Use me”.

“Holy shit. She’s a freak”, Raph said in a smug tone, his hand speeding up ever so slightly. “She deserves a good fucking”.

Mikey’s hand came down on your cheek once more, drawing a loud moan from you once more, clenching further around him. “Of course, when you ask me so nicely”, Mikey said, slowly pulling himself halfway out of you. “I’m going to fuck you untill you can’t walk or talk anymore”. And before you could react to Mikey’s words, he rammed directly back into you. You let out a moan like scream, your face falling to your mattress with your eyes closed and Mikey continued thrusting into you, bringing you large sparks of pleasure with each thrust into you.

Donnie cursed under his breath, his hand moving faster against himself. Raph stared at you with parted lips and hungry eyes, dreaming of what it would feel like to be the one fucking you from behind. Leo still stood with crossed arms and an intense look on his eyes, when suddenly…

“She wants to be used, Mikey”, Leo said. “Spank her again. Show her she’s being used”.

And Mikey did, drawing an almost animalistic sound of pleasure from you when his hand made contact with your skin once more.

“And it continues to jiggle”, Raph chuckled, watching your flesh bounce with every slap, and every time Mikey thrusted against it.

You rested your forehead against your right forearm, reaching down between your legs with your left hand, where you let your fingertips glide over your clit, rubbing it as Mikey increased his speed on you, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the room, bouncing against the stone walls.

“Mikey, I’m close”, you whimpered, your legs getting shaky underneath you.

“Let it happen, (Y/N)”, Mikey groaned, keeping his brutal speed as he fucked you closer and closer to your orgasm.

"Grab her hair”, Donnie’s voice sounded, his voice somewhat wavering from his hand’s work on his member. “Let us see her face”.

And so Mikey did as asked, and grabbed a firm grip at the base at the roots of your hair, before pulling your head up and back from the mattress. This resulted in a clearing of your vocal ways, causing you to get much louder. Your back naturally arched downwards, causing you to back up against Mikey, making each of his thrusts into you much harder than the last. Your hands frantically grabbed for the sheets beneath you, trying to hold onto something as your high came rolling, threatening to crash into you at any moment, your moans coming out as begging like screams.

The ghosts watched you with intensity, trying to match the movements of their hands to the speed at which you where getting fucked, imagining themselves in Mikey’s place, taking you from behind. Leo shifted his legs where he stood, as if trying to act like he wasn’t getting affected by the sight before him. Like he wasn’t imagining how you would feel around him, screaming that you were about to cum.

“I’m cumming!”, you yelled out, your hips squirming against the snaps of Mikey’s hips, as he continuously hit your sweet spot with no signs of slowing down. “I’m cumming, Mikey!”

“Cum for me, (Y/N)”, Mikey groaned. “Cum on my cock. Show me how good I’m fucking you”.

And so you did, your orgasm coming crashing down upon you, your walls clenching around Mikey as he continued to pound into you. Raph and Donnie let out audible groans at the sight and sound of you, taking in all of your beauty and raw pleasure. If only they could be the ones making you feel such pleasure, and have you squirming and moaning at the end of their cocks.

Letting go of your hair, Mikey let you fall back down to the mattress, moaning as you felt the waves of your high still washing over you. Slowing down his thrusts, Mikey kept himself up above you, slowly pushing in and out of you, savoring the feeling of you around him. Even from his few of your back and the side profile of your face, you were beautiful, shining in the light of your slowly subsiding orgasm.

Slowly Mikey pulled out of you, his member still fully erect, begging to be buried within you again. No matter how much Mikey wanted to keep going, and fuck you further into oblivion, releasing himself into you, Mikey decided against it. You were probably tired and in need of a break. He could wait. Your comfort was more important than his pleasure. He couldn’t force you-.

“Mikey”, you whimpered from below him, looking over your shoulder with pink cheeks and disheveled hair, out of breath with a sultry smile on your lips as you lifted your ass up against him, as if to present yourself for him once more. “Please don’t stop now, Mikey”.

Mikey was shocked. Extremely turned on but shocked. And judging from the choked sounds of Raph and Donnie, so were they, not expecting you to still have energy for more. Leo seemed to be the only one that wasn’t shocked.

“You heard her”, Leo said, arms still crossed with a stern look on his face. “Get her on her back and give her what she wants”.

Leo didn’t have to say that twice. Mikey was quick to grab a hold of one of one leg and one arm, flipping you onto your back in one throw. You yelped, followed by laughter, laying fucked, naked and smiling before Mikey, your legs open and inviting for him. And it was at this moment, staring down at your beautiful body, just before diving straight back into you again, that Mikey wondered why he waited so long. Why he had let Raph get his blood boiling for so long, instead of just taking you straight in the kitchen all those days ago. But now, he wasn’t going to let another opportunity go. So there, right in front of the ghostly forms of his brothers, Mikey fucked you right into the matteress, determinded to make up for the many days he had waited, before feeling your warm cunt around him and your desperate moans in his ear.

And so, you and Mikey continued your lewd dance of arms and legs tangled together, all in front of the watchful eyes of Mikey’s dead brothers, long into the night and again the next morning, and many more occasions to come.

[so-bitya]

Ciel would still be attempting to learn more about Derrick by getting closer to his house's prefect and their fag. Here's my thoughts how those scenarios would go:

Ciel goes to Violet Wolf

Ciel enters emo wolf school (rip)

He has to get closer with Violet and Cheslock (double rip)

One is even more introverted than him, and the other one bullies people he likes

either Ciel attempts to be Cheslock's fag (difficulty 5 stars) or he kicks him out of the school (lol) and becomes Violet's fag

which seems super difficult to pull off, since Violet is hard to butter up and already seems to be on Ciel's tail

tension would be so good though, between Ciel investigating Derrick in the house (can't seem to find him anywhere) and the purple students on edge with outsiders

horror house levels of fun

Ciel goes to Scarlet Fox

very lively cause Ciel gets way more involved with so many characters in this arc: Redmond, Maurice, Joanne, and Soma.

attempts to become Mauric's fag? immediately backfires in his face, since Maurice is worried he'll steal his spot.

yknow, way too easy if he does, let's make it so Soma helps reveal the bullying, Redmond finds out, decides Soma is the right fit for his fag instead cause of his judge of character, Ciel is flabbergasted

Ciel now has to be Soma's fag (rip rip destroyed explosion 💥💥💥)

i didnt put Green Lion cause i know they're gonna lose. also don't care. but i'll tell you what would happen if Ciel went there anyway

because Edward is there (secretly happy Ciel got into the same house) i would assume Edward would be willing to introduce him to the prefects.

and i think Edward would be more willing to take him as his fag once he proves himself worthy (he wants to be fair, but i think he likes to support Ciel when he can).

ironically the easiest route so far in getting closer to the P4?

Ciel hanging out with all those jocks at the house becomes a mob psycho 100 situation

he's gonna get bullied into having a better psyche and a healthy diet, he hates it (good for him 😔)

in the cricket tournament, Ciel doesn't have to do much so he just takes it easy

but because the whole house wants to support their little buddy, they keep trying to give him the spotlight, aka sport feats he's in no way capable of, so he's being tortured out there

actually lowkey this is the funniest scenario, i would vote for it. too bad :p

[jordanswitches]

just asked the girl i've been talking to for the last three weeks to go to dinner with me and as someone who has rarely been on a first date bc people usually are too eager to fuck me to romance me, i do feel quite strongly that my heart is gonna beat out of my chest. i've literally never had this much build up before meeting someone i'm gonna have a heart attack waiting for her reply lol

[leverage-ot3]

okay I’ve seen a lot of posts about sterling just being crowley and. guys. the implications just hear me out 😭😭😭

bending lore slightly here BUT let’s say crowley’s body was once inhabited by a human and crowley is possessing the body (maybe he kills the initial inhabitant bc he doesn’t care)

but he still has the guy’s memories. he doesn’t bother keeping up appearances with his ‘ex wife’ because he is too busy building up his hell empire. BUT for some reason he can’t quite identify, he still feels something towards his ‘daughter’. he lets the divorce happen and doesn’t feel the need (or desire) to fight for custody, but he can never quite forget her, to cast her out of his mind for good

some hijinks ensue with the leverage team. it’s mostly because even a grind culture demon wants some off time every once in a while, and for him the insurance investigator stuff is more of a hobby. interacting with the leverage crew is very low stakes for him, and honestly, quite amusing. they aren’t on his level power-wise, but that ford character gives him the mental exercise he hasn’t experienced in, well, he can’t even remember

he can feel their frustration and anger when they learn he has become employed by interpol and feeds off it. it’s great, and relaxing in a way he is never able to achieve while conducting hell-related business

one year he gets wind that olivia is in a really bad situation associated with his ‘ex wife’s’ new husband. he’s selling vital hardware to terrorists, and while that might actually be the kind of chaos he would normally support or be entertained by as the king of hell, something feels wrong about letting olivia stay anywhere near that man

he calls upon the body’s adversaries. he wouldn’t admit it, even under duress, BUT he feels slightly fond of them. nate for the three dimensional chess they play, sophie for her ability to charm and disguise, parker for her chaos and slightly unsettling nature (it’s the autism swag and being bad with human interaction but he doesn’t know that lol), hardison for his unapologetic intelligence and eliot for his hardened violent past and take-no-shit persona (he’s fun to tease)

they perform exactly as he expected, right into his carefully crafted plan. and then olivia is under his care and things get more complicated. he keeps her FAR, FAR away from anything related to the supernatural (heh). no one can find out about her, ESPECIALLY not those imbecile hunter brothers (if for nothing else than the embarrassment in revealing he has a weak spot)

not sure how to work it into this post but I also want to add that somewhere along the way he develops feelings for nate and sophie. the frame up job is near and dear to my heart and you can’t convince me that isn’t fighting as flirting behavior. his interpol persona is more of a side hustle so to speak, but he finds it fun (relaxing, even) to fill that role. there aren’t any obligations of other demons, bothersome hunters, or anything like that. nate and sophie are low stakes, except, they aren’t, really. they make him feel things he can’t ever really remember feeling. his heart beats fast when sophie sat in his lap and cradled his face, his hands sweat when nate gives him that certain smug look. he’s exasperated by the way they can run circles around him like no one else has ever before. they annoy him and get under his skin in a way no one else can and it’s infuriating. but also not, at the same time. maybe he likes it

and then the long goodbye job happens

hear me out and suspend your belief here for a second, because I can’t remember if crowley supernaturally knows when ppl die/are dead or not.

so nate is in interpol custody and the interviewer is obviously out of her depth. (most people are, when it comes to nathan ford.) he walks in and pours the man a drink, but he’s fuming. somewhere along the way he came to care about the team. hell and suffering is literally in his (official) job description, but he can admit (only to himself) that he admires what they do. it’s not for him, not anything close to where his passions and interests lie, but he respects their drive and purpose. he is also aware enough to acknowledge that they are a family, a group of misfits that never belonged quite anywhere except to each other.

and nate fucking blew it up, ruined it, because his vice is being so obsessed with the end game that he is apparently willing to let his team, his family, the people that anchor him to reality, die because the ends supposedly justify the means.

not this time. not to sterling crowley

he is enraged. he can admit within the confines of his mind that he cares for nate, for sophie, even for the other three (though nate and sophie have somehow made it a hierarchy where they are more important to him. which he will dissect later in private. maybe.)

nate let them die, he let sophie die, and for what? the black book? hell below, crowley would have made things easier somehow, if he knew that this was where nate’s sights had lied. he would have prevented this somehow. he wants to have prevented this. he doesn’t want any of them dead and is too afraid to check and verify because that would make it real. the idea of sophie (or any of them) somehow making it to hell instead of heaven would probably break something in him he might not be able to reapir fully.

he yells at nate- he’s angry. hellfire burning in his heart because everything is ruined. the deaths aside (however hard it is to set them aside in his mind), nate will not recover from this, not ever. this will be the start of the end, he is sure. a miserable, guilt-ridden existence where he drinks himself to death and nothing will save him. it plays out in crowley’s mind in a thousand different ways that are beyond painful to conceptualize, even in theory.

the story starts to unravel and there is a game afoot. a solemn, miserable, infuriating game because the con is still in session because parker is alive and in the building- which sets another fire alight in his chest. ‘parker even know you got hardison killed?’ he rages for her grief when she finds out. he knows it will double when she finds out eliot has perished, too, because he isn’t fucking blind.

but nate is a brilliant man, lest he forget too quickly. they are all alive, and somehow still the entire crew slips through his fingers. he’s not even angry (he never would have been- he doesn’t actually try too hard to catch them. it’s about the game, not the consequences). he lets them keep the black book because he’s fucking exhausted and honestly, they more than earned it.

‘now we’re even. tell sophie to drive carefully’. they will never be even, not really. crowley would never admit or agree that being human is the superior state of being, but that have made him feel human in a way he doesn’t actually mind. they keep him on his toes and match him in a way unique to them, they remind him that there are other things than the realm of hell. not necessarily bigger than hell, but maybe just as important in a different sense.

watching the van drive away, something inside him settles. when he walked into the interrogation room that day he thought this was the beginning of the end. it’s not the end at all, not an end to anything. it’s a continuation of their story. maybe, he thinks, a beginning to a new era in it

[clowningaroundmars]

Hobie1610 pt. 3

part 3 has finally arrived!!! at a faster rate than part 2 but a bit of a wait nonetheless lol

not entirely sure how long this lil story will go on for but hope y'all are enjoying this ride regardless, whether it ends on the next part or in 3 more chapters ldfjkdhf

in this installment: thrilling action, a high stakes chase, and we get to learn more abt our beloved hobie jones! yippee!

>pt. 1 here<

>pt. 2 here<

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

By some miracle, Hobie did not mention the suit to Miles once they started texting semi-regularly.

Unfortunately, they also couldn't really make their lunch date (date? God, get it together, Morales. It is not a date…) as soon as Miles would have liked, due to a million different things getting in the way of them setting a solid day aside to chill together.

Just his luck, of course.

But in the hallways, Hobie actually deigned to give Miles a passing smile every now and then. They didn’t ever get to hang out like they did for those precious few moments on the first day of school, but Miles didn’t feel the crushing weight of guilt every time he saw Hobie in his same classroom anymore. What a relief!

So Miles was mostly okay with how things were going anyhow, even if the hangout ended up falling through and they both decided not to go in the end. He was able to patrol and do his homework in blissful peace for the first time in months.

… Kind of.

That look on Hobie’s handsome face as he looked down past Miles’ coat collar though…

That still ate away at an anxious part of Miles’ brain whenever he had the time to sit down and really let his worries manifest.

No time to think about that now, though. Miles was suited up again on a school night, hoping to get at least an hour’s worth of patrolling in before security at Visions noticed he was absent from his dorm room. He hoped Ganke would be able to cover for him like he always did.

It was yet another cold evening out in New York City, and Miles was steadily covering the edges of Brooklyn, heading towards Manhattan to do a quick sweep through Central Park like he did on occasion. There was always something going on in Manhattan, especially during the evening.

Miles decided it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick peek before calling it a night and heading back to Visions.

So away he went-- now fully in his Spiderman element-- vaulting and soaring over buildings, showing off every now and then by doing silly flips and tricks mid-air for the opportunistic New Yorkers looking to snap their Spiderman Sighting of the day. A little social media promo never hurt anyone, after all…

Spiderman finally swung down onto a tree branch on the western side of the park from a street lamp and was just about to lower himself down as inconspicuously as he could, before immediately feeling the tingling electricity of his Spider Senses race up and down his spine, giving him the usual headache along with it.

He crouched down quietly on a branch and watched as a familiar lanky figure streaked across the path underneath him onto the grass and beyond.

Whoever this runner was, he was fast. And hot on his trail was a gang of burly bumbling assholes cursing up a blue streak as they gave chase.

Spiderman’s eyes stayed glued to the fast runner like they were a lifeline. His senses honed in on the person and he erupted out of the leaves of the tree with one mighty leap, sailing through the air to shoot a web out and swing his way on over to the excitement.

Several joggers, people walking dogs after work, and mothers with baby carriages exclaimed and shouted as they were barreled into by the gang of men trying to keep up with their moving target. The runner didn’t seem to be giving up, though, as their long legs sent them flying over bushes and rocks and lounging people as gracefully as a ribbon in the air.

It was indeed getting dark soon again, but the darkness didn’t really affect Spiderman’s senses at all. His mask helped him fine-tune his powerful vision and anticipate the runner’s next moves.

It looked as though they were trying to make their way up towards the Great Lawn from Cedar Hill, but whether the person was planning to make a break for the now-empty Delacorte Theatre or the Metropolitan Museum Of Art… or beyond? That was the million dollar question.

Spiderman didn’t want to lose the person in case they happened to just be a petty thief, since that would be a quick and easy problem to fix. But as he silently chased down the runner alongside (and unbeknownst) to the gang, his suspicions gave way to some other... ideas.

Namely, that the runner seemed young, a bit too young for someone to be pissing off this many fully-grown gang members.

He pushed through his confusion and made a break for the theatre the second he guessed that the runner was pivoting in that direction.

The trees were getting thicker the closer they got to the Belvedere Castle and Spiderman eventually resorted himself to hoofing it, mindful of sticking to the shadows of the foliage that surrounded them on all sides.

He was super grateful now more than ever that his suit happened to be his signature sleek black and red, rather than the tacky and hyper-visible reds and blues of many of his Spider counterparts (sorry Peter!)

Once he confirmed that the suspicious target was indeed planning on hiding in the bleachers of the massive amphitheatre, he shot up a web to hoist himself into the infrastructure from the tall stadium lights. From there, he positioned himself a bit closer to the fray, hearing the loud and heavy boots of the gang following the runner, not far behind.

Then, he squinted into the dusk as he watched one of the entrances from his perch up high... and almost choked on his own saliva!

In comes none other than Hobie Motherfucking Jones, streaking down several steps like a shooting star, clutching onto… something tucked under one of his arms. He was breathless, panting loudly, and heading straight for the Belvedere Lake.

Upon hearing the heavy bootfalls get ever closer with every passing second, it seemed that Hobie got the idea to attempt a last-minute juke by throwing himself underneath the stairs that faced the lake, tucking himself as tightly as he could under the massive stage at the center.

Spiderman watched all of this happening with wide eyes, holding his own breath in. He prayed that the ugly thugs didn’t see Hobie’s sneaky last-second move, but climbed up high onto the stadium lights and prepared to swing down anyhow, just in case.

What was Hobie even doing here, out at this hour? And what the hell did he manage to steal that was so important to these men anyways? It was quite a chase they were caught up in, running nearly two entire miles all the way up to the amphitheatre just to catch him, and that was only from what he could see when he swung into action.

The group split up and pulled out flashlights, determinedly searching the bleachers and corners as best they could while the sky rapidly darkened above them.

From right below the webbed crime-fighter, Hobie poked his head out from the shadows and took a peek.

No, no, duck back down! Spiderman wanted to shout, but he couldn’t.

No one knew he had followed them and he was safe high above the action where he balanced himself on the metal bars that housed the bulbs. His muscles tensed as the bright beam of light from one guy’s flashlight swept a little too close to Hobie’s head. Damnit.

Spiderman couldn’t just sit there all day! He had a friend to save, stolen item be damned!

He rechecked his web shooters furtively and took aim.

He set his sights on another stadium light pole across from the stage, figuring that if he was quick and agile enough, he could time his swing well enough to scoop Hobie up from where he was hidden and avoid any detection. Hopefully.

Seemed like a solid enough plan though, until Hobie just. Shot out from his hiding place all of a sudden, the heels of his boots rapping loudly against the cement and echoing all around the stage as he made a beeline for the lakefront.

Shit!!!

Miles wanted to kill him. Those guys didn’t even suspect he was hiding where we was in the first place!

... Okay, plan B!

Spiderman’s brain whirred at breakneck speeds as he watched the thugs exclaim loudly and give chase yet again, this time much closer to Hobie than they ever were before.

Without thinking, he swung down from his perch and bowled over a couple of men in his haste to simply just… grab Hobie like a damsel in distress and fireman-carry him back around the gang to get a good line of web onto a nearby pole.

The men all cursed and shouted in surprise of course, flashlight beams waving around everywhere.

One of them even yelled, “what the hell was that?!” like a character in one of his dad’s favorite cheesy slasher movies.

Spiderman was too fast for them, a black blur simply whizzing by as he grabbed Hobie and hoisted the both of them up into the air with a mighty leap. Hobie yelped in surprise, grunting from the effort, and seemed to let whatever he stole slip out of his hands which then clattered loudly onto the ground below.

The thugs rejoiced then, shaking fists at Hobie and his rescuer as they flew up to the top of a tree and detached themselves so they could fall onto the stadium light opposite from Spiderman’s initial hiding spot.

Spiderman didn’t stop until he attached another web up to the lights and dangled there for a bit. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins as he shifted Hobie off of his shoulders and let him slide slowly onto his side, his friend’s wiry arms clutching him tightly.

They both watched with rapt attention at the goings-on several feet below them.

The thugs congregated around the fallen item, picking it up and turning it this way and that. It looked like a briefcase, though with the low lighting it really could’ve been anything. It was only when one of them-- the biggest and burliest of them all-- shouted out another colorful swear word that Hobie then seemed to come back to himself again.

He squeezed Spiderman’s shoulders with his arms and kicked at him. They swung a bit from the wiggling.

“Ouch!” Spiderman hissed, as quietly as he could. He was hoping the dark dusk would conceal their position now as long as they made No Noises, but even that wasn’t guaranteed.

“Go, go, go, go, man! Let’s get out of here!!” Hobie hissed right back into his ear, his face mere centimeters away from Spiderman’s mask.

Spiderman stubbornly ignored the heat radiating out from his face at that realization and jerked this way and that, looking for an easy escape from their conundrum.

Flashlight beams danced around the ground before finally swinging up to the trees and catching sight of a pair of shoes dangling in the sky.

The biggest and meanest one of the bunch pulled something out of his pocket and took aim.

Bullet! Spiderman’s senses screamed into his cerebellum.

“Goddamn,” he huffed ruefully as the shots rang out. Hobie panicked. “Bullets for us? That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”

Hobie clung onto his hero for dear life. “Brother, if you do not get a move on from here, we are both gonna get turned into fish filets!” He shouted into Spiderman’s ear.

“Ow. Okay,” Spiderman grumbled, sticking himself to the side of the pole they dangled from and readjusting Hobie so that he clung onto his back instead.

He took a deep breath and narrowly dodged a bullet that whizzed unnervingly close to their heads. Hobie yelled again.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Spiderman began, speaking quickly. “Hold on, okay? Hold on tight. Just hold on and do not let me go for even a second!”

“On it!” Hobie shouted back, legs kicking a bit before wrapping themselves tightly around Spiderman’s torso.

They both took a breath and then Spiderman jumped, gaining some air before twin webs erupted from his web shooters-- aimed directly towards the seating area entrance.

Together, he and Hobie rocketed from their airborne position towards their escape route once the fluids connected to solid architecture. To his credit, Hobie only whimpered a little bit through the ride.

The thugs had no chance! They stumbled on tired, aching legs towards the very door the two teens had left out of, complaining and cursing some more as they searched through the steps and made their way out onto the theatre’s general admission and concessions area.

They searched and searched through the bushes and trees, going so far as to even check the sculptures near the structure.

After several tense moments of gruff shouting back-and-forth, the search eventually died down until only a couple of the men were left sweeping the area once more. The others had already given up their fruitless endeavor and called it a night.

“Fucking kids, man. What the hell,” Spiderman heard one of them grumble before kicking at the Romeo and Juliet statue angrily and following the rest of his cohorts down the path towards the Great Lawn again.

Hobie and Spiderman let out matching sighs of relief then, happy to have given the men the slip by managing to hide behind the giant 3D Delacorte Theatre sign right above the box offices. Lucky for them, most people don’t think to search behind lit-up signs, so they went completely undetected.

“… Wanna let me know what you were doing here this whole time? You could’ve gotten killed!” Spiderman breathed. He wanted his tone to be sharper, more authoritative… but he was just so glad to see his new friend still in one piece instead of riddled with more holes than a chunk of swiss cheese!

Hobie scoffed, tucking a loc behind his ear and sitting back. Thanks to the lighting of the sign and the other park lights in the area, Spiderman could see him digging around in his coat pocket and fishing out-- a USB drive?

Hobie held it up triumphantly, sleepy down-turned eyes glistening with pride.

“I got it! Suckers! Screw them by the way, I’m not the thief, if that’s what you’re wondering,”

Well. He was sneaky, alright. Spiderman had to hand that to him, at the very least.

He sat back on his heels as well and exhaled. “Fine. I believe you. What’s on that drive?”

Hobie squinted at him then, really giving him a good once-over now that the excitement had officially died down. “…Damn. You’re Spiderman,”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, hi, nice to meet you, I’m your friendly neighborhood Sp-- ugh, seriously man, just tell me what all of that was back there or else I’m webbing you up and calling the cops.”

“Hey!” Hobie objected. “Like I said already, I’m the good guy here. I snagged this from those guys because I caught them snoopin’ around the museum over that way. I followed them and found out they were stealing this!”

Spiderman bobbed his head. “Okay? And what’s on it?”

Hobie turned the drive over a bit in his hands, admiring it. “Most likely? Security codes, schedules, maps. I’ve been uh… investigating those dudes for a while after watching them sniff around the museum for a few days now. It looks like they were just art thieves plannin' a heist, so I jumped on the opportunity to deliver justice myself.”

Hobie’s mischievous grin was met by Spiderman’s disapproving stare.

“And why didn’t you just call security and let them know? Like I said, super dangerous thing you did back there! If I wasn’t there to save you, you could’ve died, man.”

Hobie pocketed his USB drive again and rolled his eyes. “Y’know, for a vigilante hero with cool superpowers, you sure are a square.”

Spiderman sat up and placed a hand on his chest, feigning hurt. “Oof, ow. That’s mean,”

“Yeah, it is, but you know I’m right. If a kid like me walked up to some cops and tried to warn them of a possible art heist, you just know those pricks’ll laugh in my face and do literally nothing about it. I had to take matters into my own hands!” Hobie jutted his chin out defiantly.

Well. Couldn't really argue with that, especially considering PDNY’s less-than-stellar track record of taking preventative measures most times. All that they would most likely do is nod along to whatever Hobie was telling them and chuckle, shaking their heads as they walk away. Not their problem.

Spiderman rubbed his chin. “Point taken," he conceded. "So what’s your plan now?”

Hobie glanced around, as if he was checking for any eavesdroppers. “I’m gonna submit some photos to a journalist I met online before turning this in back to the museum. The journalist’ll help get those guys behind bars once a story's published and some actual adults talk to the cops. I am going to go collect my reward,”

Spiderman blinked. He had a bunch of questions swimming in his head, but the first question out of his mouth was, “what reward?”

“The reward for turning in precious security info, genius!” Hobie tapped at his forehead with a finger and grinned. “If I get to negotiate with them, I can get some money to save up and-- uh. Nevermind. Listen, are you gonna rat me out or not?”

Miles’ brow creased behind his mask. “… I don’t think I will. Sounds like you’re doing the right thing… mostly.”

Hobie cheered silently. “Yes! Okay, I take it back, Spidey. You are cool!”

Spiderman sighed. “But first, I need to know you’re gonna be safe. Like, actually, and that you’re not gonna get followed home.”

Hobie shrugged nonchalantly and pushed more locs out of his face again. “Yeah, you can walk me home if you want,”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, that’s not the only thing I mean. I need you to promise me that you’re not gonna get into stupid stunts like this again. That was so dangerous and you really could’ve gotten hurt!”

Hobie exhaled as well. He stared intensely into the mask’s giant white lenses for a beat, making Spiderman shift uncomfortably.

Then, he held up his pinkie. “… Fine. I won’t do stupid shit like this again. I promise.”

Spiderman blinked a few more times and hooked his pinkie onto Hobie’s. “Uh. Okay, cool! Cool, that’s what I wanna hear, considering keeping New Yorkers safe is my job! I just wanna see you safe, that’s all. No more art heists, you gotta leave that to the professionals to handle,”

“What, professionals like you? You might’ve not even gotten to them in time before they snuck off with like millions of dollars worth of art, bro.”

“Anyone ever tell you you are just so mean? Dontcha have a little faith in me? The ‘vigilante hero with cool superpowers’?” Spiderman shot back.

They both laughed.

“Seriously, though. I do appreciate the fact that you saved my ass back there,” Hobie admitted, eyes cast downwards for a second. “I was actually gonna throw this thing into the lake and hope this drive got eaten by like… a fish or something.”

“And what about you?” Spiderman smiled despite himself.

“Well,” Hobie shrugged. “If I died, I died. I guess,”

It was Spiderman’s turn to scoff now. “You have a family, man. Don’t be ridiculous. You have friends and family that would miss you!”

Hobie’s expression turned dark, his entire face shadowing for a second before being replaced by cool detached nonchalance. A slight hint of annoyance stayed put underneath.

“… My family’s barely my family. I don’t have any friends, either. Don't worry about me.” Hobie admitted in a clipped tone. He stood up abruptly and started doing some casual stretches.

Spiderman stood up as well, knowing fully well how this song and dance was going to go.

He would never admit it out loud, but he’d seen his fair share of self-destructive citizens throwing themselves into the middle of danger in the short time he’d been doing this whole vigilante thing. He had talked many a melancholy or manic person from tossing themselves off of multiple different buildings, different bridges, stopped them from “falling” onto train tracks.

And as loath as he is to admit it, this Hobie’s particular brand of cool detachment was entirely too familiar to him as well.

A flash of his uncle Aaron’s face lit up a part of his brain that he hadn’t really allowed himself to acknowledge since that fateful day. He quickly stamped that out.

He cleared his throat and rubbed at his neck. “… Well. That sounds pretty depressing, man.”

He didn’t notice Hobie’s shoulders hitch at that phrase.

“But,” Spiderman continued, “You got people out here who care about you, even if you don’t know it. You’re still so young, you could be ending your life before you even meet, like, your favoritest person in the whole world, right? So just do me a quick favor, take care of yourself. For me. Live long enough to meet your favorite person, alright?”

Spiderman put on his best comforting expression that he could despite the mask most likely getting in the way of Hobie fully seeing it. He hoped his words were enough to convince him not to dive off the deep end, at least not anytime soon.

It seemed to work at least a little bit, because Hobie looked back at him with a much warmer-- albeit hesitant-- expression.

“Can I ask you something?” Hobie finally said after a few moments of silence.

“Uh, sure.” Spiderman replied.

“Do you know about a kid named Miles Morales at all?”

The air was sucked out of Spiderman’s lungs right then as he floundered like a fish for a minute, brain working into overdrive to make his answer sound both intelligent and convincing.

“U-uh, maaaybeee? I dunno, I meet a lot of New Yorkers everyday and I don’t get many names, yanno? S-sounds familiar, but sorr--”

“I knew it,” Hobie exhaled a laugh and surged forward to embrace Spiderman with both arms.

Spiderman stood frozen in his place, arms held in mid-air as he worked to process this.

“Uh. What--”

Spiderman felt Hobie’s chin dig into the side of his cheek a little as he turned his lips to his ear. “Your secret’s safe with me, by the way. I’m not telling anyone,”

Miles felt his whole world turn on its axis before shattering completely.

Oh no, no, no, no, no! Goddamnit!

Miles pushed Hobie off and stepped back, holding his hands up. “Oh hey, whoa, whoa, whoa. I dunno what you’re thinking or who you think I am, but--!”

Hobie sighed loudly. “Miles, I saw your suit.”

The world screeched to a halt.

Hobie picked his gaze back up off of his feet and even seemed apologetic, almost. “I, uhm. Like, back on the roof. At Visions. I wasn’t… a hundred percent sure I saw it, since it could’ve been any logo at all, but. Well, you’re a pretty bad liar too, y’know that, right?”

Miles sucked in a slightly shaky breath, gulping loudly. “Uh. W-well,”

Hobie smiled shyly. “You, uh… you’re like around the same height as Miles Morales, anyways. And you sure sound a lot like him, too.”

Damn. Damn it all.

Miles spun this way and that, placing his hands atop his head as he panicked slightly. “H-Hobie, you cannot tell anyone else about this, whatsoever. Do you understand? No one. At all. Or we’re both dead!”

Hobie held his hands up, lines creasing in his face. “Look bro, you’ve got secrets of mine too. We pinkie promised, remember? I don’t break promises.”

Miles didn’t point out that the promise was so that Hobie would stop getting himself into stupidly dangerous situations, but he accepted it anyways, albeit reluctantly.

“D-do… do you actually, like actually promise me you’ll never breathe a word about this to anyone? Ever? At all?”

Hobie held up his right hand into the air, as if taking an oath. “I, MJ, solemnly swear to never breathe a single word to anyone about your super secret identity, so help me god.”

Miles planted his fists on his hip and shook his head. “Oh my god,” he exhales on a shaky laugh.

“Don’t you believe me? What would I have to gain by selling you out? Oh,” Hobie stops suddenly, perking up. “We could even work together! I got me my sweet camera and my extensive connects, man. Think about it!”

“No, no. Hobie. Stop that, man. I’m not putting you into any danger after I just saved your skinny butt. Spiderman doesn’t do sidekicks anyways,”

Hobie looked a bit put out, but shrugged anyways. “Well, I mean… think about it sometime. We could seriously take down criminal activity around here, if you’re down! And, uh. You do have my number,”

Miles looked up and took a deep breath. “Mmnyes, I do. I do have your number. That’s… I mean you’re not wrong about that. Listen, I think it’s getting pretty late and we should both be heading back home now, though.”

The corners of Hobie’s mouth curled up mischievously. “True, true. It is a school night, after all.”

Miles couldn’t stop grinning despite the heavy anvil that threatened to burst out of his chest. “Yep, yes it is! Okay, time to get you home now. C’mon, let’s go.”

Miles moved to step into Hobie’s space and carry him on his back again so he could lower the both of them down from the lip of the theatre roof.

But before that happened, he felt Hobie place a cold but strong hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

Miles looked up inquisitively and felt his breath catch in his throat as he felt those same hands slowly slide up the smooth spandex of his suit, up his shoulders, and then they stopped at his neck, at the seam of where his suit and mask met.

The entire thing probably only took a few seconds to do, but to Miles it felt like eons passed as he felt every single muscle twitch and the pulse beating underneath Hobie’s skin while he ran those fingers up his arms.

He was standing so close to him! Oh god!

The entire ordeal was unbearably intimate, and Miles could barely stop the shudder that wracked his body suddenly.

Hobie’s soft lips were slightly parted, the lighting of the sign next to them caught in the dark brown portals that were his eyes.

“U-uhm. Sorry, this is weird...” he mumbled quietly. But his hands didn't move.

All around them, crickets started their soothing chorus.

Here they were, right behind the giant lettering of the Delacorte Theatre, intertwined in each other’s arms on a cold night-- and Miles’ core body temperature has never felt hotter before. He felt like he could melt steel, the way this night was going. He didn’t know when his hands raised to grasp onto Hobie’s arms, but they must’ve done it of their own accord because Miles then felt himself squeezing softly onto Hobie’s biceps.

Slowly, painstakingly, and carefully… Hobie made his move.

Every centimeter of the mask being pushed up was accompanied by a soft look that asked-- no, it begged-- for permission to continue. His hands seemed to move on their own eventually, as he slid the mask up over the back of Miles' head and then eased it up off of his nose.

Hobie wore a soft look of determination then, that fully came into view again once Miles felt his mask slide right up off of his eyes. Hobie’s soft hands eventually fell away, mask in one hand, no sounds in the air except for the wildlife of the park starting to wake now that the night has officially fallen.

Miles wasn’t sure why he did, but he held his breath.

After a few seconds of appraising gazes from each other, pupils meeting pupils, exchanging a million words a second with just a few looks… Hobie grinned beautifully.

“Damn. There you are,”

Miles felt a plume of heat erupt from his gut and rush up to his face. “Uh. Hm, y-yep. Here I am,” he blinked back at Hobie with his big brown eyes.

Hobie had a look of pure joy on his face before it started to melt away suddenly. “You know… I should backstab you for abandoning me out of nowhere that one time, though… I really should...”

The moment collapsed like an undone web, a delicate thing now completely destroyed as Miles leaped up in indignation.

“Hobie!”

Hobie stepped back and laughed loudly. “Re-lax! I’m not gonna actually do it. But. Y’know.”

“And if you do, I’ll leave you webbed up to that billboard near Visions,” Miles threatened, mostly light-heartedly.

“Psshh, and then get my mom’s two million lawyers on your ass? Good luck,”

“As if they could ever catch me! I’m Spiderman!”

Just as easily as they had stepped out of being just kids for a moment, they stepped right back into it, bickering like they'd been friends since forever.

Miles lowered the both of them from the sign and they headed towards the eastern side of the park, making their way over to Hunter’s Gate. They bickered and bantered back and forth the entire way there, and it was only once they made it to the outer gates of the park that Miles stopped them both.

With his mask back on and other New Yorkers now milling nearby, Miles made it a point to lower his voice as he turned to Hobie and puffed his chest out heroically.

“So, random citizen. Where are we off to today? I told you I’d take you back home safely, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“’Cause you promised, right?” Hobie smirked, tucking his hands into his coat pockets.

“Uhm. Yeah, yeah. I did. So, lead the way!” Spiderman made a grand ushering gesture, and Hobie chuckled good-naturedly as he stepped aside and exited Central Park.

“You gonna walk me home, Spiderman?” Hobie threw him a side-long glance.

“Yyyeah…? Why? You’d rather swing home?”

“I liked swinging, actually. Yeah,” Hobie stopped where he was on the sidewalk and nodded with an air of finality. “Yeah… let’s swing!”

Spiderman felt his heart do a few somersaults in his chest before he gestured towards his shoulders. Hobie quickly assumed the position, long lanky arms wrapping around him and leaning his body weight against Spiderman’s side.

Spiderman shot up a web to a nearby street lamp and gave his friend one more glance.

“You sure?” He asked again, really making sure that Hobie was okay with this. Not many people really liked swinging, which was understandable. Even Miles wasn't the biggest fan of it at times.

Hobie chuckled and ignored the onlookers as they slowly ambled past the two, throwing the teens questioning glances as they made their way past them.

“Yeah, I am! Let’s go,”

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Miles: Do you actually actually really like on your LIFE promise that you’re not ginna tell a soul about… well…

Miles: gonna*

MJ: Yes, Miles. I PROMISE [eyeroll emoji]

Miles: I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE

MJ: Do you actually, though? ;)

Miles: No. But I can find out… I got connects

MJ: Uh huh. I’ll tell your “connects” that if you don’t take me out on that promised lunch date, our friendly neighborhood Spiderman just might be the next trending topic on ALL social media apps again very soon……..

Miles: Oh my god. You are Evil. I can’t believe this. My next arch nemesis… damn

Miles: What a killer plot twist. The greatest foe I have yet to face happens to be none other than one of my very own classmates

Miles: It be ya own people

From his family’s Lower Manhattan penthouse, Hobie laughs out loud as he reads the text messages, ignoring all of the curious glances thrown his way by various members of his team.

From Miles’ own humble dorm room at Visions, he laughs aloud as well.

[vaguely-concerned]

do you think ingellvar -- raised by well-meaning but largely clueless about child development academics -- probably has a decent shot at understanding taash' position better than they maybe realize