#this boy is such a lovely treat in this movie

[qinluna]

cw: codependency. mention of suicidal thoughts, self-harm scars, dysfunctional family. semi-canon compliant to main story — directly references 1-4. reader is gender-neutral. reader is not mc. depressed reader. reader cries a lot. caleb and reader are childhood friends / neighbors.

you’re six years old when the old woman across the street and the boy she was raising on her own give you a safe haven. you snuck out because your parents were arguing for the umpteenth time, and your naive, fearful mind had just wanted some kind of safety. the boy’s name is caleb, and the woman’s called the police because the escalation of your parents’ conflict arises to the point where neighbors can hear it. caleb hugs you for a long time as you cry, giving you an apple plush to cling to.

you’re thirteen when you confess to caleb you thought about dying. you think it’d be an easier way out. you promise you won’t do it—but it’s devastating to him. if caleb had it his way, he would do anything to take this pain away from you. he doesn’t like seeing the girl he loves in so much anguish. the dark cloud that only goes away when he’s around. he wishes you two could just stay together forever. he would keep you safe. he sees faint, blurred scars on your wrists beneath your sleeves, and his heart sinks. he just wants to see you smile.

you’re eighteen, and you’ve both graduated high school. caleb has his prospects, and he’s bound for skyhaven to pursue his future as a pilot. you, on the other hand—lose your friends, and your graduation dinner is ruined by a heated argument among relatives. when you two meet up later that night—caleb decides to take you to a drive-in movie. it’s an older film, with a cliche action plot and comedic gimmicks. but you don’t pay attention to it, for you had curled up into caleb’s side, clinging to him as your body trembled with shaky, quiet sobs. caleb never lets go, grateful that he’s gotten stronger, taller—so he can shield you with his body just like this. neither of you open the snacks or pay attention to the movie. caleb holds you close, kissing the top of your hair occasionally as he murmurs sweet nothings to ease you. he takes you to a diner open all night, treating you to a proper meal to celebrate—punctuating it with a kiss to your lips before he drives you both home.

you’re nineteen when you say goodbye. you’re going off to study at the association’s academy, finally having a reason to leave that godforsaken home. you wouldn’t come back, you tell caleb, and he understands. he’s proud of you.

(but god, he’ll miss you terribly. and you’ll miss him too.)

you’re twenty-three, he’s twenty-four—when you reunite. you didn’t think it was possible. you were a graduated combat medic, sent undercover to deal with a precarious incident similar to the explosion in bloomshore district. (the very same that was caleb’s home. he was there when you came back to visit. he was there—and you were thrown back with the debris. you grieved for days.)

“you passed,” caleb says, the interrogation room’s lights coming back on. you’re horrified, unable to speak. you don’t even struggle against the restraints. your eyes are wide in complete shock, a fear filling your body that you hadn’t felt since you were a child.

he switches his tone from it’s colder firmness, softened to a manner like he was always speaking this way, “did i scare you?”

you still don’t move when he undoes the restraints. you’ve completely tensed up, shivering as thick globs of tears spill from your eyes. you choke out a strained sob, cowering forward as you lowered your head. you wailed like you were going to vomit.

this… was still caleb, right?

the one who spoiled you. the one who cared for you. the one who was the only constant in your life, the one who was your light in a pitch black darkness.

the violet gaze no longer seems to burn as bright like it used to.

“hey, please look at me…” caleb calls to you, bending to one knee to be closer, cupping your wet cheek, “i’m sorry, but it was necessary. i didn’t think—no. i… should’ve known. you were always a crybaby when we were kids.”

he sighs, wrapping his arms around you, squeezing you against him. it does little to ease your anguish. your grief. your anger.

but you still reciprocate the embrace, clinging to and tugging on his uniform. you’ve been through too much. you’ve been robbed of too many things you couldn’t get the chance to have.

caleb is all you had left, and you didn’t want to let go this time. even if it would hurt more to hang on.

“i’m never gonna leave your side,” caleb whispers into your ear. “stay with me. i can keep you safe, i’ll take care of you. forever.”

forever.

with caleb?

that sounds nice.

[qoldenskies]

You describing Donnie as a provider will always be so important to me because I think it’s one of the aspects people don’t use whenever they write his character. Genuinely speaking the main thing that I think gets lost in translation is that, beyond his boasting, he’s generally more passive than anything. I think his particular softness is something I kinda mourn the most in certain characterizations, because a lot of times it gets translated as aggressive protectiveness—even though his support is literally just, backline support. And more than that, he seems to enjoy that! He’s most comfortable playing support, he just wants recognition along with it!

(It’s been discussed before but I’ll say again that the odd softening of certain aspects of Raph while sharpening Donnie’s edges is kinda like. The automatic urge to associate caregiving with femininity and being a provider with masculinity. Think it’s important that Raph in particular is still very much a rough-and-tumble teenage boy, who also provides emotional support to his loved ones… alternatively I might be too woke.)

i think its funny when people give donnie a more masculine personality because aside from the fact that he's so sensitive, is he not the one that canonically enjoys granny drag

REGARDLESS I COMPLETELY AGREE WITH THIS perhaps i am ALSO that one friend who's too woke,,, this is not a game of house where raph is the mommy and donnie is the daddy and mikey is the kid and leo is the dog (actually that one might be true mb), i think its an oversimplification of their dynamic and it also gives disservice to raph who i WOULD argue is kind of canonically their father figure more than he's being given credit for. i do not mind making him feminine all (or transfem! transfem raph rocks) but i do feel like some of it stems from a kind of misogynistic perspective of him. i like that he does fr have eldest daughter syndrome while also having a pretty masculine personality ngl

i also think it shaves down some of his really interesting flaws,,, raph will occasionally be over-appeasing when he's genuinely scared of hurting people's feelings, but he can also be callous and shortsighted especially because he's a little emotionally imperceptive. he kind of stumbles when things get more emotionally complex, especially if he feels pressured to do something about it. raph generally lashes out or gets upset if he cant appease everyone (like he will actually yell or freak out this happens SO much), there's a lot of evidence for this lol. this is a big reason him and leo have a relationship that can get really rocky, they get along great when they work together but leo is extremely socially clever and perceptive, he can run circles around him and raph's solution to things is literally Smashing so he'll usually just get mad at him. he also actually shouts at them quite a bit and even whacks them a few times (and DOES try to get into a fistfight with leo in the movie are we forgetting this) like cmaaaan

^^^ raph isnt low empathy like donnie is but i DO like that he kind of sucks at reading people, especially if he's built up this idea of how they SHOULD feel, because i do think that is a very neurodivergent trait to have. my autistic/anxiety king

WITH DONNIE THOUGH!! i think its your words not mine but like. he IS already protective in canon, this isnt something that needs to be dragged into the light or played up because i would argue that donnie is an extremely protective person, i just think its a misread to treat him like he's overbearing or even like,,,, extremely nosy? if anyone's gonna get up in your business and make it all about him its gonna be mikey imo

^^ i dont mind people exploring the potential of that kind of side of him, especially because i could see stress breaking him into that kind of person, but donnie being pretty passive is one of my favorite things about him. he's built to be a follower and he likes it that way, and i think that's really evident in the way that he desperately seeks out praise for his inventions. jokes about being self-centered aside, he does it for THEM. this is way of saying he loves them, of keeping them safe. every time he jumps in front of mikey in the movie he is TERRIFIED. donnie is not an angry person in combat. literally never has been. he's either manic and gleeful because he knows he's winning or screaming and crying and throwing up because he knows he's losing LMFAOOOO

[lyraa-kill]

Sick and Twisted Bastard

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 l Chapter 5

Tags: Stalker Simon "Ghost" Riley, Trans John “Soap" MacTavish, Top Simon "Ghost" Riley, Bottom John "Soap" MacTavish, Dom Simon “Ghost" Riley, Sub John "Soap" MacTavish, Stalking, Consensual Non-Consent, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering, johnny can't make himself cum, Kidnapping, Knives, John is okay with Simon's stalking, John is a little freak too, Voyeurism, Hidden Cameras, Bondage, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Spanking, Painplay, Internalized Transphobia, Self-Harm, Murder, They really match each others freak, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Biting, pussy slapping, Face Slapping, Blood, Choking

——

Johnny has been living with Simon for two weeks now, meaning the end of their combined three week leave is up. He tries not to think about it, but he can’t help but wonder what will happen. Is this whole thing temporary, will he be forced to go back on base and resume his job? He hopes not.

He’s proud of being Sergeant MacTavish. He fought tooth and nail to get out of his home and become the man he knew he should be, and made a damn good name for himself too. But it wasn’t him. He never wanted any of that, he only did it because he had no other options. He was forced to be someone he knew he wasn’t all over again. Sure, it was better because at least this time he was a man, but it still wasn’t him.

He knows what he wants now. He wants to be Johnny. He wants to have a small, quiet little cabin with Simon and spend his days doing what he chooses, not what he’s being commanded by a superior to do.

Now, his head lays on Simon’s lap as they cuddle on the couch, a movie playing on the TV. They’ve been doing a lot of that. Laying around, watching something. Occasionally taking breaks to eat or fuck. Johnny’s happy at finally being relaxed, but it’s getting quite boring.

He shifts his head to look up at Simon. “Can I ask you something?”

Simon runs his hands through Johnny’s Mohawk. “What is it baby?”

“We’re due to go back to base soon. What’s gonna happen when we don’t show up?”

Simon smiles down at him. “Don’t worry about it. No one will bother us to come back.”

“But-“ Johnny gets interrupted.

“I took care of it, Johnny.” Simon leans down and gives him a peck on the forehead. “No one will bother us. Just be good for me and don’t worry about it, yeah?”

Simon’s a bit nervous for when he eventually has to tell Johnny what he did. The man has always tried to minimize civilian casualties. He’s a protector of the innocent, and Simon had to kill and dismember two very innocent people to fake their deaths.

It was hard to find two people similar enough to their body shapes to kill. Even then, Simon had to behead them and cut off any body parts that would be a tell-sign that the bodies weren’t really them. He had to hack up the rest, leave their IDs at the scene and whatnot. He thinks he faked it pretty well, if he has to be honest. He’s seen his fair share of murder scenes in the past and tried to replicate it as best as he could, for both their sakes. Him and Johnny both would have either drowned in their own misery or been killed in combat if they stayed.

“Alright,” Johnny sighs, turning back over to look at the TV, “I trust you.”

Simon smiles and kisses Johnny’s hair. As he looks down at his perfect boy, he knows he doesn’t regret a thing he did. He can already see how they both are healing, becoming more themselves than they thought possible. Simon is less angry, less closed-off, finds himself wanting to be alone less and less. He discovered that he loves to laugh. He loves to be held and cuddled and treated softly and gently. He never knew that about himself, because no one had ever done it before. Now that he’s had a taste of it, he’s not sure how he ever lived without it.

That monster and creature, the Ghost, he had been forced to be is fading. It’s no longer clawing at his insides to escape; it’s asleep and quiet. Maybe the claw marks it left will always be there, but eventually it’ll be gone for good. All thanks to Johnny.

Johnny no longer cries every night. He did for a little bit, but Simon was there to help him through it. The scars on his legs are healing and fading away, no new ones have been added. Though, that’s because Simon locked away any sharp objects so Johnny couldn’t get to them. The only one that will be leaving marks on him is Simon.

They watch the TV for another half hour, both of them not really watching but focusing more on each other. Eventually, Johnny turns back around.

“I think I want to draw. Paint. I don’t know.”

Simon hums and smiles down at him. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. Always wanted to. I drew all the time when I was a kid. Got yelled at, so I hid it for a while. Couldn’t really do it while I was enlisted and whatnot. But… I’d like to now. I always really enjoyed it.”

“I can get you paper and pencils if you’d like, Johnny.”

Johnny nods. “I like writing too. I used to keep a journal on me before my dad found out about it and burnt it. I wanna do it again.”

“I can buy you a notebook too.”

Johnny nuzzles his face into Simon’s stomach. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course. I want you to be happy, baby. And if that will make you happy, then I’ll gladly do it for you.”

Johnny smiles as he looks up at Simon. “What about you? What do you like?”

Simon cocks his head. “What do you mean?” The only thing he can remember ever being passionate about or wanting is Johnny. In fact, the only thing he can remember remotely liking is him.

“Is there anything you wanna do? Hobbies? Activities?”

“I think my favorite activity is you, love,” Simon teases, kissing Johnny’s forehead and making noises like he’s pretending to eat him.

Johnny laughs, pushes Simon away, then says, “I know that very well by now you insatiable fuck. But… I want you to be your own person too. I want you to be someone outside of me. I want… I want you to be Simon and me be Johnny, and be our own people while also being in love with each other.” Johnny cups Simon’s face. That perfect, devastatingly handsome face. “I wanna know Simon. I wanna know what you’re interested in, what makes you laugh, what your feelings are, what your thoughts are. I wanna know you. Not Ghost. Not whatever you’ve been told you should be.”

Simon tears up a little bit, but manages to hold him back. “I want that too,” he says, “just as long as Johnny can belong to Simon.”

“Of course,” Johnny says back, “As long as Simon can belong to Johnny too.”

Simon smiles and kisses Johnny, on the lips this time. “Of course.”

They lay there and kiss for a while, eventually Johnny finding his way into Simon’s lap so he doesn’t have to keep bending over. The kisses don’t feel sexual, like they’re going to lead to something else. They only say “I love you. I love you so much and I want to know you and be with you”.

Simon breaks the kiss apart. “I’m… I’m honestly not sure what I’m passionate about. I never had a hobby or interests growing up- I think. I can’t remember my childhood. It got tortured out of me along with most of my humanity. And afterwards, I was Ghost. The military didn’t need a guy that wanted to be a person and pursue what interested him, they needed a weapon. So that’s what I was. I don’t know how to be anything else.”

“Yes you do,” Johnny says lightly, his face mere centimeters from Simon’s.

Simon furrows his brows in confusion.

“You do know how to be something else other than Ghost. I’ve seen it. You love making stupid fucking dad jokes about the army. Every Tuesday at 5pm you find time to sit in the common area and watch that show you like. I always catch you whittling at pieces of wood when we’re camped out and waiting for an enemy.” Johnny strokes the side of Simon’s face. “Maybe you havent found yourself fully. But I think you will. And I think you’ve found more than you think.”

Simon softly smiles and nuzzles his face into Johnny’s hand. “Thank you.”

Johnny kisses him again, gently and passionately. Maybe it’s a bit of an oxymoron to want them to belong to each other and also be their own person, but it makes perfect sense inside their heads.

They break apart and smile into each other’s lips, laughing a little bit. Johnny peppers Simon’s face in kisses before saying “I’m so happy you love me back.”

Simon laughs and holds Johnny’s hands that are cupped over his face. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re perfect.”

Johnny kisses him one more time on his forehead before saying, “I was just scared. No one’s ever loved me before you. I would have little crushes on guys in school and they’d always reject me because they either wanted a girl or they wanted a real man. I was expecting you to react the same. I also… thought that you were out of my league a little bit.”

Simon kisses Johnny fiercely. “Never. I’ve only ever seen you for who you are, Johnny. You’re a brilliant, beautiful man. Doesn’t matter to me one bit what you got between your legs. I love you, so I’ll love whatever’s down there too.”

Simon can’t imagine a world where he doesn’t love Johnny, which makes it hard to understand Johnny’s old fears. Loving him feels as intrinsic to his being as, well… breathing. Blinking. His heart beating in his chest. He hadn’t thought of the idea of ending up with a transgender man, hell, he had only ever heard of trans women before he met the guy. But that hadn’t mattered to him. Johnny is a man, and Simon is in love with him. What parts he did or didn’t have didn’t change that fact.

Johnny’s heart skips a beat as Simon says those words. God, he’d been waiting to hear someone say that to him since he was 14 and got rejected for the first time. He’s laid awake at night dreaming about a man feeling that way towards him, until eventually he stopped dreaming and gave it a rest, declaring himself forever single.

Maybe he never really stopped dreaming.

“I love you too, Simon.” Johnny says, “And I haven’t said it yet, but by god you’re right bonnie too. When I woke up and saw you laying on me that first morning you took me here, the first thing I thought about was how gorgeous you are. You’re fucking devastating to look at.”

Simon is all smiles. He never thought he’d feel good about being called beautiful, but hearing Johnny‘s words makes his heart sing.

His face would be unappealing to most. He has a big nose with a bump in it, downturned eyes, and his lips are thin. Not to mention the scars that adorn his cheeks and chin, making him look like a mottled beast. But Johnny likes it, loves it even. Maybe he is beautiful after all. Maybe it doesn’t matter if everyone else thinks he’s ugly. Who cares if no one would want to see him on a magazine cover? Johnny loves the way he looks, and really, that’s all that matters to him.

“I remember when I first saw you on the tarmac after getting off the plane,” Simon stars, “it felt like all the tendons and fibers in my heart were attaching themselves to you. I think I made a plan that night to hack into the base’s security cameras so that I can keep an eye on you all the time. And I think a week later was when I went into your room to watch you sleep and steal your underwear.”

Johnny laughs. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

Simon smiles. “Yeah. But I don’t think you mind it very much.”

“No, I really don’t.”

Simon grips onto Johnny’s hips as they start to kiss again, forcing him to grind down on him.

“Fuck-“ Simon grunts, “I can’t remember how many times I jacked off to pictures I took of you when you were in your room, the shower, on missions…”

Johnny laughs into his mouth. “I’d love to see those pictures sometime. I gotta make sure I look pretty.”

“You always look pretty.”

They go back to kissing, Johnny grinding his sore cunt down into Simon’s hardening package. He has no idea how two men in their thirties are able to fuck so many times a day, but for some reason he’s been insatiable, like his body hasn’t got the memo he’s not 16.

Simon deepens the kiss, deeply breathes in Johnny’s scent, then snaps and throws him onto the couch on his back. He climbs on top of him and covers his entire body with his own. He loves how much bigger he is than Johnny. It makes him feel like he can shield him from the entire world as long as he’s in his arms.

“Sure your cock ain’t broken yet?” Johnny teases, “You’ve gotta be shooting blanks after this morning.”

Simon growls and bites down on Johnny’s neck. “You cannot comprehend how much I need you all the fucking time. It’s not possible for me to go dry around you.”

Johnny gasps and digs his nails into Simon’s back through his shirt. “Your dick is gonna end up killing me, Si.”

“You can take it,” Simon says, “I’ll make sure you will.”

Johnny bites down on his lip as Simon starts to add more bite marks and hickeys to his neck, joining the ones left there from that morning.

“Yeah? Gonna fuck me till I can’t think?” Johnny breathes, “till I can’t walk or open my eyes? Don’t think you can.”

Hearing that, Simon wraps his hand around Johnny’s throat and squeezes, cutting off his air supply. Johnny’s hands fly to Simon’s wrist to try and take it off, but it’s a futile struggle. His legs kick, but they can’t move very much under Simon’s body.

“Not so cocky anymore, are ya Johnny?” Simon teases, his mouth curled into a wicked smile. “Can’t be such a little shit with my hand around this pretty throat of yours, huh?”

Johnny struggles to get out words as his vision starts to get a little fuzzy. Even though Simon is more than capable of killing him right now, he doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on in his life.

Simon releases his grip, but keeps his hand on Johnny’s throat. Johnny gasps and huffs as his face starts to return to a normal color and his vision becomes clearer. He smiles.

“Do it again, Si.”

Simon slaps Johnny across the face as his hand slowly starts to squeeze again. “Who knew my boy was so dirty? Who knew John MacTavish was a little fucking slut that likes to be smacked and choked?”

Johnny smiles as his vision starts to fog up again. He wants to say, you knew. You knew I liked this and I needed you and that’s exactly why you’ve done all this.

Simon smacks Johnny across the face one more time before he takes his hand off his neck so he can take off his pants. Honestly, he doesn’t know why he bothered to bring clothes for either of them. They just seem to get in the way.

It’d be much better if Johnny was naked and on display for him all the time, like his little trophy.

“You think a little bit of choking and smacking is gonna do me in? I don’t think so,” Johnny laughs, trying to egg Simon on so he gets harsher, “You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

Simon grunts and rips off Johnny’s boxer briefs, which are now soaked with his slick.

“I think these pants of yours tell a different story,” Simon grins, “How ‘bout I use them to shut your lying mouth up so your other pair of lips can tell me the truth, yeah?”

Simon shoves the underwear into Johnny’s mouth, the taste of himself flooding his taste buds. Fuck. He never thought being forced to taste himself would be such a turn on for him.

Simon shoves three fingers into Johnny’s hole, making him scream through the gag and grip onto the couch. He’s still pretty relaxed and loose after that morning, but taking three of Simon’s thick fingers with no warning still made his cunt burn and ache. He’s starting to fall in love with it.

Simon jackhammers away at Johnny’s cunt, his other hand wrapped nicely around his throat. He isn’t choking, just telling Johnny that he better behave, or else he knew what was coming. Although, the promise of being choked would probably make Johnny act up just so he could get it. There really is no way to punish his boy.

Well, actually, there’s one way.

Simon keeps abusing Johnny’s poor hole, until he sees the signs of his orgasm coming up. He stops just before the moment of climax, making Johnny writhe and buck his hips to try and chase his hand.

Johnny’s eyes widen. So they’re going to play this game again? That’s fine. He can take it, no problem. Edging really isn’t that big of a deal. Or at least that’s what he tells himself so he doesn’t have to admit to himself that his defeat is imminent.

Simon laughs. “Not so cocky and bratty now that you know I’m not gonna let you cum, huh?” Simon slowly strokes Johnny’s cock, making him twitch. “I’ll make you break, boy. You’ll be a mindless begging slut here soon.”

Johnny smiles through the gag and shakes his head.

Simon tears his hand from his throat and smacks him across the face, then backhands him, then puts his hand back where it was to choke him as hard as he can. Red prints in the shape of Simon’s hands are starting to bloom on his face. Simon loves seeing his marks on his boy, although a piece of him wishes they were more permanent. He’s sure there’s something he can do to satiate that craving.

Simon shoves his fingers back in, relishing in the way Johnny’s body twitches as he starts to fight for air. He loosens his grip on Johnny’s neck and lets him breathe as he really starts to pound away at him again. He doesn’t want to hurt him, after all. Just rough him up a little bit.

Just as Johnny reaches the edge again, Simon takes away his fingers. Johnny whines through the gag as his eyes start to water. Fuck, he really hates edging.

“Aww, are you ready to stop being a fucking brat, Johnny?” Simon coos, his voice demeaning.

Johnny thinks that Simon has to be a fool to think he’ll give in that easily. He shakes his head and spits the gag out. “In your dreams, Si.”

Simon sneers and quickly pushes Johnny onto the floor, grabbing his arms and pinning them to his back.

Deep down, Johnny knows he’s going to give in. He doesn’t even really want to be a brat or a little shit, he just likes when Simon gets rough with him, and being an ass is the best way to get it. He really could just ask, as he’s sure Simon would do anything to make him happy, but that’s not nearly as fun as watching him get angrier and get more violent with him because of it.

Simon spanks Johnny with as much force as he can give, which is a metric fuck ton. Johnny gasps and his back arches from the pain. Fuck. That felt like it’s going to bruise his goddamn bones.

“I know you want my cock. And you’re not gonna get it until you start apologizing and begging.” Simon spreads Johnny’s legs apart and cups his cunt with his hand, then smacks him as hard as he can.

Johnny yelps and releases noises he has no control over as Simon lays down more smacks to his throbbing pussy. His body is twitching and turning in ways he couldn’t stop if he tried, involuntarily trying to get away from the pain unleashed on his most sensitive area.

When Simon relents, Johnny is a twitchy mess with drool pouring out of his mouth. But he’s not completely mindless yet.

Simon shoves four fingers in, stretching Johnny as wide as he’s ever been. His cunt is gushing around the digits, trying to suck them in and keep them there so he can cum. As Simon fucks him with just one hand, the other raining down smacks to his ass before gripping onto his hair to pull his head back, Johnny’s tongue lolls out of his mouth and his eyes roll back into his head.

“Dirty fucking bitch,” Simon grunts, “should tie you up with a nice dildo and vibrator and leave you there for a few hours. That’ll teach you not to be a fucking brat.”

Johnny shakes his head and pushes his ass into the air.

“Want- want you Simon, please,” he says.

“Is that begging, Johnny?” Simon asks, taking his fingers out just before Johnny can cum, “Are you gonna be my good boy, then?”

Johnny nods. “Y-yes, good boy- good boy just f’you, fuuuuck.”

Simon smiles as he lovingly caresses down Johnny’s sides, admiring his bright red ass and dripping cunt.

“I know you are. You’re always my good boy,” Simon says, leaning down to kiss Johnny’s shoulder blade, “You just like when I get rough with you, yeah? Think you gotta be a brat to get it?”

“Mhm,” Johnny hums, incapable of speech.

Simon laughs. “I know, baby. I know you better than you know yourself.”

Johnny nods again, because he knows that fact is unquestionably true.

“You’ll get what you want. Gotta make my boy happy, afterall.”

Simon grabs his cock and lines it up with Johnny’s hole, and pushes it in with no resistance. He’s buried to the hilt in a matter of seconds, his fingers having done a good job to loosen his boy up.

Johnny whines as he’s filled up again, a dumb smile appearing on his face. Simon grabs his arms and pins them to his back again, his other hand grabbing Johnny’s hair and tugging his head back.

He starts to fuck into him, not bothering to be gentle at first. His boy can take any abuse Simon puts him through.

Johnny sees stars and the light of heaven as Simon pounds away at him, making the burning in his core dissipate and instead replacing it with the best pleasure he’s felt in his life. He can’t think, can’t speak, can only lay there and take it, let himself be used.

This is what he’s been needing his entire life. Someone to treat him softly, take care of him, treat him like the special and fragile thing he is, but also know when he needs to be beaten and fucked within an inch of his life.

“Look so pretty like this,” Simon grunts, “I love seeing you become my little plaything, baby. Love seeing you be my good little boy.”

Johnny nods as drool continues to dribble out of his mouth and down his chin. His body tenses as he start to cum, squirting all over Simon’s legs and the floor, but Simon doesn’t let up. He continued his brutal pace, sending Johnny into the waters of overstimulation and making him even more brainless than he was before.

Johnny cums twice more before Simon finishes for the first time, but Simon is just as insatiable as him, and once is not nearly enough. He has no idea how many times he’s climaxed when Simon relents. He doesn’t even know what his own name is or where he’s at.

Simon pants heavily as he pulls out of Johnny’s sopping cunt. He watches as his cum leaks out of his hole and mixes with the literal puddle of Johnny’s cum spread over the floor.

He smiles as he admires the way Johnny lays there, boneless and nearly passed out. A state of being that only Simon can put him in.

He has absolutely no regrets over anything he’s ever done, because all of that has brought him here, admiring his fucked out boy that makes him happier than anything else on the planet ever could.

[moodypetrichorlove]

tom holland in uncharted is a treat to watch. just hits different. iykyk.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddie-spooktober day 24: pumpkin | G | 655

“Ope, here he comes,” Robin says, glancing up out the front window of Family Video.

“Wonder what it’s gonna be this time.” Steve sighs, stacking one last tape on the counter before abandoning the task to focus on the incoming metalhead.

“What’s what gonna be?” Dustin asks, looking between the two older teens.

“Eddie’s taken it upon himself to give us a greeting every time he comes in recently.” Robin explains, watching Eddie’s attempts to fix his atrocious parking job.

“Okay, and?”

“It’s been getting more and more ridiculous each time.”

“...Okay…?”

Robin starts to explain, telling Dustin about a couple of notable visits Eddie’s made since the world almost ended.

-

“Merrily met, Lord and Lady Buckley of the great town of Famally Vidu!”

“...I’m ‘Lord’, I call it.”

“You can’t be Lord!”

“I can be whatever I want to be, It’s my last name!”

-

“Hey Stevie, what’s a beauty like you doing in a place like this all alone?”

Steve had just blinked at him, “I work here.”

“And he’s not alone!” Robin calls from where she was crouched behind a nearby shelf.

-

“Good morning Pumpkin,” (“He said this directly to Steve, mind you.” Robin says.)

“Eddie, it’s 3 in the afternoon.”

-

“Hola Querido, Querid-ess.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Eddie, that’s not how Spanish works.”

“‘S how it does in my household, Bobin.”

“Someone tell me what queer-eedo means!”

“It means asshole.” Eddie says quickly, face tinging pink.

-

Steve thinks back on all these, and from what he can remember about that last one (and the shade of red Eddie’s face had turned), he doesn’t think Querido means what Eddie said it did.

“I think he’s been flirting with me.” Steve says, cutting between their conversation, still staring at Eddie in his van. He’s checking his teeth in the rear-view mirror now.

“Yeah, okay, Eddie was flirting with you.” Dustin scoffs.

“No, he was.” Robin says, leaning back on the counter.

“Steve, just ‘cause you had good hair in high school doesn’t mean that everyone’s always flirting with you. And no he wasn’t.” he says, directing this last at Robin.

“Would it be so horrible if he was?” Steve turns around to face him, “If he was flirting with me, that is.”

“No, of course not, he can flirt with whoever he wants.”

“Just not me?” 

“Well duh.” he says as if it’s obvious, “You guys are basically like my brothers, it’d be weird. Plus, you’re not even into guys, it wouldn’t be fair to Eddie.”

“Wait, you know about Eddie?” Robin says, rounding on him, shocked. There’s a dull thud from behind them. Eddie must’ve finally gotten out of his van.

“You know about Eddie?”

The bell jingles merrily above the door, and they turn to look at him.

Eddie takes them in, then says “Hello to everyone except Steve.” he leans forward on the counter nearest him, eyes boring into Steve, “And a special ‘Hello’ to everyone else.”

There’s a two second silence, then, “Oh my god that was horrible.” Robin laughs.

Dustin gags, “Ugh, ew, I think you’re right Steve.” 

Steve, however, is just staring back at Eddie. 

Eddie, who’s visibly getting more uncomfortable the longer it’s taking Steve to respond.

Steve, whose face blazes red a second later, “You’ve been flirting with me this whole time.”

Eddie straightens up, flushing a bit as he rubs the back of his neck. “Uh.. yeah, I have. That okay?”

“Yeah.. yeah, it’s good.” Steve laughs, a little breathless. Then, throwing all caution to the wind, “Hey, wanna go see a movie on Friday?”

This question seems to genuinely shock Eddie, he stands there, frozen, only unfreezing when Steve continues on with “As friends if you want, but I was thinking that since you’ve been flirting with me for the last six months…” 

“No! I mean, yes. Yeah, yep. Absolutely I do. Want to go on a date with you.”

Steve grins, “Cool.”

and then they go see Trick or Treat bc it opened that friday (Oct. 24th 1986) and bc it sounded like a halloween movie, only for it to be the best/worst b-list horror movie about a bullied metalhead named eddie and the ghost of his fave rockstar

rip eddie munson, you would've loved trick or treat

dividers from @saradika-graphics

[clowningaroundmars]

Hobie1610 pt. 4

after so many months of waiting, the wait... is finally over.

here is the fourth and final part of this little au idea i had brewing in my head for some time now. i hope you guys enjoy?

and thanks so much to everyone leaving encouraging and kind comments on the previous parts as well! really appreciate y'all :)

hope this ending is a satisfying one :)

>pt. 1 here<

>pt. 3 here<

MJ: We’re going to hang tomorrow after my shoot, right?

It was a text that Miles looked at and looked at and looked at all day ever since it arrived into his messages that very morning. It literally came out of nowhere.

But how long ago was it that he and Hobie Jones ran into each other at Central Park? It had to have been like a week ago, he was pretty sure...

He thinks.

“Maybe the guy’s pushy or somethin’, he just really likes you for some reason,” Ganke had offered by way of explanation as they sat together at lunch for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Miles wasn’t entirely sure when he and Ganke ever got to chill like this together in the cafeteria area... but as luck would have had it, Ganke’s mom forgot to send over some money for the week, forcing him to buy from the cheaper menu that the school had to offer rather than ordering off of the many food delivery apps he had on lock in his phone.

They sat a ways away from the hustle and bustle of the main area, near a big window that looked outwards into the typical scene of the congested New York City streets, and Miles would have been perfectly content with this arrangement had it not been for The Text.

He jiggled his leg and rubbed at his jaw in between bites of his own cheap meal-- something he got even though he didn’t really want it, but what was he gonna do, let Ganke wait in line by himself?-- gazing at his cell phone sitting right by his elbow. The text message was gazing right back at him.

“I… dunno. I-- man, I wish I told you more about my patrols so you can remind me how long ago Central Park was. I swear it was only like… last week? Right?”

Ganke chomped on his own slice of pepperoni pizza and shrugged. “I think that was a while ago. Either way, he wants to go on this date with you. So you might as well.”`

Miles groaned. “It’s not a date, Ganks. We’re just… chillin’, hangin’ out a little,” he gestured with his hands, which was not convincing Ganke at all. “Y’know?”

Ganke leaned forward a little bit, glasses slipping down his nose as he grinned mischievously. “Did he figure out it was you, Mi? Is that why you’re so nervous about it?”

“Whaaat are you talking about? No… no, he didn’t! I just. Uh, I saved him from those scary gang members and then I swung him home and that was that. No one else knows but you and my parents, Ganke, promise.” Miles’ smile was even less convincing.

“Miles,” Ganke deadpanned, “have you ever thought about what would happen if some Flickstagram-famous model learns about your thing you got goin’ on? He could be pushing this because he knows already, dude. Or at least he thinks he does. You’re a weird kid after all, and it wouldn't take too long to put two and two together... no offense.”

Miles shoved a fist under his chin and chewed a french fry pensively, trying to come up with an answer that wouldn't give him away.

The thing is, Hobie did know.

Miles still couldn’t shake off the memories of his warm fingertips hooking under his mask and slowly lifting it off of his face, the way his entire visage seemed so positively radiant with that dazzling smile once they met eyes. He remembered Hobie’s wiry arms clutching onto him for dear life as they flew across the stadium towards the exit, the easy banter they had going back and forth after the action finally died down and they were safely heading back to the outer gates of the park.

So Hobie definitely knew. That wasn’t really the problem... although, Ganke might be right. It could be in the future, if Miles didn’t play his cards right.

Hobie is a solid guy no matter what dimension Miles found him in. Even as the Prowler on earth-616, that Hobie Brown was as an upstanding citizen as any crook could be. But flashes of earth-42 kept sparking up right behind his eyes every time doubt popped up about a new player in his life here on earth-1610, and one can never just assume anyways.

And now Miles is sitting at his lunch table with his best friend— who, until now was the only living person on this planet who knew about his secret identity— ruminating on whether or not Ganke might end up being a damn seer after all. Ganke doesn’t know that Hobie knows, but he really just might be right anyhow. That would really be Miles' luck.

Goddamnit.

Is Hobie planning on blackmailing him somehow? His involvement with those thugs stealing a prominent museum’s precious security info seemed a bit off to him, the more he thought about it.

They joked about it many a time over text, but Miles would be lying if he said he hadn’t turned a couple of facts over and over on more than one sleepless night. Hobie mentioned having connections, a camera, and seemed almost too recklessly opportunistic when it came to the chance at nabbing that flash drive...

Doubt was sinking back in. Miles drummed his fingers on the table and shot Ganke a look. “... Whaddya think I should do if he does, then?”

“What, if he finds out?”

“Yeah.”

Ganke shrugs again, popping a pepperoni slice into his mouth and thinking while he chewed. “Web him up to a lamppost,” he said after a bit.

Miles snorted with laughter. “Ganke, be for real right now. You’ve got great coding and social media knowledge, dude. Could you hack his tech if asked you to? Like, just in case?”

Ganke waggled his head, making a show of really, really thinking it through. “Mmmmn, yeah maybe.”

Miles sighs. “What do I have to do?” He asks because he knows his best friend by now.

“Fifty bucks and you also have to do my laundry for a week. What?” Ganke exclaims upon suddenly being on the receiving end of Miles’ glare, “If I get caught, it could mean like federal level charges on my head, dude. Take it up with the law, not me!”

Miles sighs and returns back to his plate of cold fries. “Yeah, yeah. You got a point,”

“But you gotta meet up with him first, figure out what we're dealing with. Just stop putting it off, bro. Avoiding him'll make you look more suspicious. Might as well get it done and over with,”

Miles swallows his fries along with his anxiety, picks up his phone, and starts drafting his answer to Hobie’s sudden proposal.

He doesn't know why there's a pit of dread in his stomach, but he opts to ignore it this time.

He hopes Ganke is wrong.

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

The next day, MJ's cell phone vibrates on the portable vanity set up at the studio where his current shoot is taking place.

He’s busy, trying not to get too lost in the flurry of hands prepping him, the flashing of the cameras, the shouts of directions from the camera guy as he hits pose after pose with the props on set.

It’s when he’s changing into his last outfit for the shoot that he finally has some time to sip his water bottle and mindlessly scroll through dozens of notifications, finally coming across the one notif he waited to get the entire day: Miles. His name appeared at the very bottom.

... Meaning he received the message hours ago. Shit.

With his shoot almost over, MJ punched in a quick message and hit send, excitedly returning back to the set and finishing his work day up as quickly as humanly possible.

MJ's absentmindedly agreeing that every picture the director shows him is truly amazing, yes, amazing indeed, all while trying not to vibrate out of his mind-numbingly expensive designer outfit he’s been forced into. The only person he can think about as he dumbly nods along to whatever the crew is saying to him is Miles. Miles, Miles, Miles.

Miles has agreed to finally-- finally, after all of these weeks-- meet up with him and make good on his promise. Of course, MJ's slightly miffed that it had to be him to initiate the lunch date in the end, but whatever.

Closed mouths don’t get fed, after all. And Miles was technically not breaking his promise.

So now MJ is floating back down the hallway to the makeup room, gently pushing past all of the other models and swatting away at his mother’s hands while he makes his way over to his duffle bag.

“MJ, darling. Look at me,” his mother says as she hooks a finger under his chin and examines his makeup. “Do you wanna be wearing this when you go hang out with your little friend today?”

Your little friend, MJ almost scoffs out loud, but manages to school his expression into one of pure professionalism. “Yes, mom. Nothin' wrong with it,” he answers breezily.

She hovers. "I mean, it might make your friend think that... uhm, well. You know, it might give the wrong impression. He'll think you two are on a date! You're not allowed to date."

"Sure, mom. Except he knows I'm a model. The whole city does at this point." His tone drips with teenage attitude.

She lets him go.

Then, he’s unbuttoning his shirt and untying a sparkly scarf doubling as a belt to hold up the comically baggy jeans he was assigned to wear today, impatient to shrug himself out of those clothes and jump into his own so he can finally, finally, finally run down to the little cafe he told Miles to meet him at.

His mother was busy on a tablet typing away at something, chatting with MJ's agent once he found his way over to them, and even when neither of them noticed much about MJ on any other day, it seemed they were paying special attention to the way he was throwing his clothes back on with obvious glee now.

MJ had never smiled this much around them, and they sure took note of it now.

“Heard you’re getting ready to meet with a friend, MJ,” his agent told him once he turned his attention back to his client.

“Yyyep,” MJ answered noncommittally. He threw on a coat and started to reach for his messenger bag, stopping when a hand grabbed his shoulder and squeezed.

“We’re gonna keep in touch with the team, and keep updating you on the status of the shoot, but we gotta make sure you’ve got your phone on, right?” His agent looked him directly in the eye. “It’s great that you’re making friends again, Em, but you have to keep your head in the game.”

Yeah, of course. “Don’t let anything distract you from helping me make money” is what you mean, MJ thought ruefully, blinking back innocently.

He nodded and offered his agent a casual smile. “I mean yeah. He’s just a friend, I’m not gonna let that get in the way of my job. Don’t worry,” he adds, “I got my phone on. Hit me up when something cool happens.”

His agent and his mother exchange glances, but agree to release him anyways.

“I mean, he’s still a kid,” he hears his mother say as he quickly exits the room and finds his way towards the elevators. “I let him have a little fun every once in a while! The real work doesn’t start until he’s older right? Might as well let him have this for now..."

MJ rubs his thumb up and down along the edge of his phone case, feeling the bumps of the volume keys over and over.

He steps into the elevator when the doors slide open. He punches the button for the main lobby and stares down at his messages with Miles.

Yes, he thinks a bit vindictively, the real work doesn’t start until he’s older.

She definitely isn’t wrong about that.

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

"You ever think about running away at all?" Hobie asked Miles rather suddenly after they got their usual greetings done and over with.

The cafe Hobie picked was cute, quaint, and very small. A nice little reprieve from the noisy halls of their school and the bustling city streets, since the business didn't seem to have any other patrons at this hour aside from the two boys.

They picked their seats right next to the window and opted to people-watch for a bit as they scrolled through the cafe's stylized menu on their phones. The lighting of the late-afternoon day illuminated Hobie in such gorgeous warm light that Miles was almost suspicious; did he pick this place specifically because the late sun's rays would bounce off of nearby skyscrapers and cast them both in the best mood lighting New York City had to offer? It sure seemed like it.

Hobie leaned back in his seat and gave Miles the most charming smile he's seen on a guy yet, erasing his suspicions from his brain entirely. And... well, anything else as well.

"Uhhh," Miles offered intelligently.

Hobie huffed a laugh in response. "It's okay, I know it's a weird question. Forget I said it."

Miles shook his head. "Wait, no. Sorry, what'd you say again? I'm, uhm. Sorry, I think I'm just a little tired. Kind of out of it,"

Hobie nodded sagely, setting his phone aside for the time being. "Hmm, late night homework, right? Essays maybe?"

They chuckled and grinned at each other cheesily, the knowledge that they shared a big secret between them settling comfortably and cozily like a fat cat curling up near a fireplace. It was nice, kinda. To be in on something that not many other people were, like an inside joke or a long-running bit between old friends.

But then Miles' earlier conversation with Ganke at the school cafeteria floated back up in his mind again and he had to bite his lip to keep from frowning suddenly. He looked down, a bit ashamed.

"Hobie--" he started.

"MJ," Hobie interrupted, chin in his hand now.

Miles looked up. "MJ. Oh, yeah. Right, sorry."

"I don't really like my given name, so no one calls me that. Just call me MJ. Or Em, even. That's what my agent calls me."

"Agent. Geez. So you didn't really answer my question earlier, back when we first met," here, Miles folded his arms on the table in front of him. "How famous are you, really?"

MJ grinned like a mischievous cat, chin still in one hand. "You've been on my Flicksta page this entire time since you found it. How famous do you think I am? Not that hard to do research nowadays, right?"

Miles felt his face heating up. "H-how'd you know about that?"

"You liked a post of mine that I made like... last year, dude. I saw."

Miles silently cursed himself out as he shut his eyes in embarrassment and winced. "Yikes. Alright, I guess you caught me. That was my bad for sure!"

MJ's grin was crooked. "Yeah, I'm... pretty well-known. Not supermodel status yet obviously, but I've been on a couple billboards. Posters, some ads. I'm training to walk some shows. Whatever." He leaned back in his seat again and messed with his sweater's sleeves a little as he spoke. Distantly, Miles noticed how expensive MJ's clothing really looked, how plush the knit of his sweater was, and the tailoring of his coat.

"Whatever," Miles echoed inquisitively. "Do you hate it? Is that why you wanna run away?"

They met eyes.

"I thought I told you to forget that question, Morales," MJ replies coolly. "It was a weird one. I dunno why I even said it,"

Miles, sensing something in the air between them, wondered if he should have changed the subject. Too bad his mouth had a less-than-stellar track record of listening to his brain.

Instead, he opened it and quietly said: "If we're gonna be friends, and if you want me to not web you up to a pole somewhere in Manhattan, I gotta know your deal."

"Mn, my deal," MJ repeated warily.

"Yeah," Miles sighed, already resigning himself to just getting this over and done with already. No time like the present, right? "You mentioned... you mentioned having a camera and connections. And you're just... weird, man. Like, no offense but you being in Central Park when you were that one time? Running away from those gang members who looked like they were gonna strangle you for takin' their flash drive away from 'em? That was super risky. Something's up."

MJ nodded, still looking apprehensive but also like he wanted to give in. "Right, I've got your big secret. Now you wanna have one of mine. Fair, I guess."

Miles shrugged helplessly. "If we're gonna be friends... I mean, it is fair, right?"

MJ glanced around at the empty seats around them, grateful that even the cashier seems to have gone to the back so that they were both totally alone together. Good spot to pick after all, he thought to himself. He kept his voice down just in case anyways.

He licked his lips and leaned his elbows on the table. "Yeah. I get it. It's a big thing you're doing for the city, y'know... doin' what you do. So here it is: I hate being a model."

Miles blinked at him, waiting for more. MJ didn't immediately being speaking again so he made a go on kind of motion with a hand.

MJ laughed a bit, shaking his head. "This is gonna be stupid. It's gonna sound so stupid! God," he rubbed the bridge of his nose with a knuckle and looked outside at a small stream of people walking past, all in a hurry to get on with whatever it was that occupied their lives.

"... About as stupid as some kid from Brooklyn putting on a costume to go out and fight crime?" Miles smiled patiently.

"Well, kinda. It was because of some punk kid from Brooklyn putting on that costume to go fight crime that I finally had the courage to like, go out there and get into my little hobby of breaking and entering, snooping around places I shouldn't, trying to help people..." MJ stopped when he saw the look on his friend's face.

"You...?" Miles started, his lips forming the shape of the words he wanted to say but not quite letting them out into the open just yet.

Did he hear that right?

As if reading his thoughts, MJ nodded. "When you took up the mantle of Spiderman after our first guy died, I took it as a sign. To like... finally just do it, right? I guess all that was left was just taking the leap, y'know what I mean?"

Miles suppressed a shudder as he nodded along, pushing Peter B's lectures out of his mind for the moment.

"I hate being a model," MJ continued, a single loc falling into his determined face, "because I wanna be a journalist. Like... an investigative journalist. But I also like science stuff as well. I guess I dunno what I really wanna be when I'm older. All I know is... I have got to get away from my overbearing mom."

"Or else," Miles finishes for him, tilting his head as if to say remember our conversation at the park?

MJ grimly confirmed it. "Or else," he replied.

Miles blew out a breath and leaned all the way back in his own seat, folding his arms over his chest. "Wow."

"Yeah, heavy stuff. I know," MJ tossed his locs back over his shoulders and glanced up at the posted menu hanging high above the register. The cashier returned from the back, placing several different pastries from a baking tray into the cafe's clean little glass display at the counter.

"Wanna...?" MJ pointed his chin at them, already pushing his chair out to get up.

"Oh, yeah. Food! Duh," Miles answered and got up to follow suit. How could he possibly forget?

The rest of their hangout goes over wonderfully after the grim conversation, all things considered. They opt to chat amicably about surface-level stuff mostly; family dynamics, friends, schoolwork and more about MJ's day job as a model.

"My mom acts like she's my agent most days, too." MJ is recounting this in between sips of his black coffee, long fingers nursing the ceramic cup he was given. "She's the one who got me into these modeling gigs in the first place. She said I had 'the look'... whatever that means. I like bein' behind the camera, though. Not in front of it," he lamented.

Miles spears some lettuce that fell out of his sandwich with the toothpick his side of pickle came with, waving it around as he talks. "Your mom sounds like the type of parent that pushes their kids around a lot. I guess I would know what that's like,"

Sensing a chance to commiserate in their shared dilemma, MJ leans forward a bit and smiles. "Your folks sounded nice when you described them. What's up?"

"I love them, and they sure do love me, but," Miles shakes his head and picks the lettuce off of his toothpick. "I dunno. They want the best for me and... sometimes it feels like nothing else matters but that."

MJ has the lower half of his face carefully hidden behind his mug when he asks: "Have you told them?"

Miles sighed, long and loud. "Yep. Yeah. They know. They do. That was... a very long story but. Anyways, yeah, after all the stuff that went down this spring, I finally had to fess up. No one else knows but you guys, though, I swear."

Miles silently patted himself on the back for managing to completely omit Ganke from the conversation. Can't give up his ace up his sleeve so soon, now can he?

MJ nods sympathetically. "I wasn't kidding, you know. Back when I told you that your secret was safe with me. You've got one of mine, so. No one else but us,"

Miles raises a pinkie over their plates and makes eye contact with him. "Pinkie promise?"

MJ's eyes flash at him.

"Duh. I never break promises," he replies, hooking pinkies together and smiling. "I'm not really in the business of ruining the life of a pretty great hero right now."

"Until it benefits you, you mean," Miles says, really only half-joking.

MJ doesn't take the bait. Instead, he deflects the best way he knows how. "Oh yeah, absolutely. If someone's out there putting a billion-dollar bounty on your head someday, you already know I'm goin' for it. What? It's a billion dollars, dude!"

They laugh together as Miles throws a piece of tomato in his direction and MJ threatens to pour the rest of his coffee onto his lap.

It felt good, felt natural. Their banter was smooth and seamless which Miles thought was a relief because very few people he encountered in life wanted to keep up with his constant sarcasm and nerdy jokes. No one else seemed to share his sense of humor except for MJ, and it made him feel a bit of warmth in his chest.

Even if they only stayed friends, he seemed to be a great companion to have nonetheless. And Miles had Ganke as backup in case anything went wrong between them. It was a daunting thing to come to terms with, the fact that such a cool guy like Hobie M. Jones had the ability to stab him behind his back at any moment's notice, or accidentally let Miles' secret double life as the crime-fighting webslinger out at the most inopportune time.

But... it wouldn't be the first time a friend has double-crossed him.

Miles wasn't stupid. He knew that letting more and more people in on his secret identity was a huge gamble, especially when it came to keeping a secret as big as this was. The risk was too high, the rewards might not even be worth it.

Worst of all, his friends could be legit and then get hurt if they ever found themselves somehow caught in the crosshairs of his other life.

... But Miles didn't want to think about that right now. That was a problem for future him. Right now, they were both too busy being what neither of their own families seemed to want them to be: a pair of carefree kids.

In this moment, MJ didn't have to worry about stifling and busy schedules arranged for him without his consent. He didn't have to worry about itchy fabrics or ill-fitting designer clothes or loud and bright cameras capturing his every move. With Miles, he could finally let loose.

And in this moment, Miles didn't have to worry about crime-fighting (for now), juggling mountains of schoolwork to please his parents, or keeping up appearances so he didn't arouse suspicions as to where he always was when he managed to slip away. With MJ, he could relax a little and enjoy the small things that always escaped his notice as he rushed this way and that, desperately trying to keep up with the chaos of his everyday life. Time seemed to slow down and speed up simultaneously when they were together.

They finished up their meal and exited the cafe, thanking the cashier and pulling on their coats to hopefully battle the frigid winter air of the city. They made their way up and down blocks, past shops and restaurants, weaving in and out of passing crowds on the sidewalk.

As they wandered aimlessly, unable to escape each other's gravitational pull for even one second, they talked some more.

They talked about Miles' art, MJ's secret science experiments in his room and how he fought his mom to get into Visions in the first place, about Miles' parents and his daily workload he usually juggles. They tried talking about Miles' start as Spiderman, but they didn't get too far along that topic before realizing there were only so many code words they could use to say what they wanted to say out loud before devolving into a fit of giggles.

They chatted about their plans after they graduate, how Miles still wants to go to Princeton and how MJ is planning on funding his own college education once he saves up enough money to leave his station in life and go wherever the wind takes him.

Miles seemed a bit sad at the thought that their friendship looked to have an eventual expiration date in the future, but there didn't seem to be anything changing MJ's mind anytime soon. After all, he didn't even know if he was going to keep in touch with Ganke once they stopped being roommates. And they ended up being pretty tight, against all odds.

So as they kept their casual pace through the city, Miles made a mental note to remember and cherish days like these as much as he could. He checked his phone for the time... this blissful moment of normalcy would have to end soon.

"So," Miles said once their long conversation eventually wound down. Their feet had taken them to a nearby subway station, the gum-covered concrete steps already beckoning them both to bid each other adieu.

"So..." MJ glanced at him, stopping them both by the railing and smiling down at his friend.

The day was drawing to a close, the sun had fully set about half an hour ago and they both needed to get out of the streets and back to their regular everyday lives. For Miles, this meant he had to get at least an hour of patrolling in before swinging back to his dorm room and getting started on his studies for their chem test on Monday.

For MJ, it meant returning back to Manhattan and steeling himself in preparation for the eventual lecture he knew he was going to get, about not staying out so late without supervision and how he didn't respond in time to his agent's texts. The usual.

"I hate to say it, but it's lookin' like we might have to say goodbye for now," Miles shrugged, hanging his head for comical effect.

MJ laughed brightly. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound like you don't even wanna leave."

"You might be right about that. Wish me luck tonight, I gotta... y'know," Miles leaned casually as he could manage against the railing, shrugging a shoulder.

"Right. Do your extracurriculars,"

Miles groaned. "Yuck. Let's not call it that, please! You sound like my dad. Let's just call it my weird hobby instead."

"Okay, so I guess I gotta let you go to do your weird hobby instead, then."

"Which just so happens to be graffiti, by the way," Miles' lips quirk up mischievously, giving MJ a look as he slowly slides against the railing and places a foot on the first step. "I like to spray paint around the city every now and then... in case anyone wants to know. In case they ask."

MJ bobs his head in response, following Miles' movements. "Ah, right. Spray painting! Super cool. Anyone asks where you are, I got your back, man."

Miles' smile is as dazzling as it is endearing as he places a hand on the metal railing and lowers himself some more, unable to bring himself to cut the invisible rope anchoring him and MJ together, holding them there in that one space as a constant stream of New Yorkers climb up and down the steps beside them.

Thank you New York City, Miles finds himself thinking.

No one glanced in their direction, they were completely surrounded by people, but still alone. The lights of nearby shop signs and street lamps gave MJ a bit of a halo around his hair, and from the angle he was standing at, Miles looked up at it and believed that it made him just glow.

They gazed deeply into each other's eyes, the usual noise of the city falling easily into the background. It was just the two of them.

"... Yeah." Miles says a bit awkwardly, unable to pull away. "Yeah, that sounds... good. Great. Thanks man! You're a real one,"

MJ smiles knowingly above him. "So you might wanna head on down now. Don't wanna keep you from catching your train."

Miles grins back. "Right. My train."

"Go get 'em, Tiger." MJ responds, offering him a little salute with his fingers and finally turning away to disappear into the thick crowds that flowed up and down the city sidewalks like water.

After a little bit, Miles felt like he could breathe normally again.

He descended down.

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

Miles' life went right back to normal, with a new element added in.

He still rushed through his days of back-breaking homework and tests, still tried to keep up with the crime-fighting and his family back home who kept pestering him with exclamations about how he was always late to events and get-togethers, especially as the holidays rolled around.

(His mother pulled him aside for a quick little chat on how he needs to get better at communicating where he was so that she and Jeff could make up excuses for him ahead of time)

He still gamed mindlessly with Ganke on most weekends after their school break ended and the students all traveled back to their dorms, he still texted his extra-dimensional friends whenever he was free and had a minute to spare.

But now he made some space for another special person in his life: Hobie M. Jones.

They passed notes back and forth in the classes they shared like a pair of friends back in elementary school (to avoid leaving a trail of evidence on their phones, Miles argued when he brought it up to MJ, who just laughed) and walked each other to their classes whenever they could.

But it was risky business keeping someone like MJ so close, especially if it could arouse suspicion when Spiderman happened to swoop in and save him out of the blue. Both Miles and Spiderman hovering around MJ's vicinity day in and day out could be a possible liability to contend with indeed, so Miles still tried keeping his distance whenever possible.

For what it was worth, MJ seemed to understand. He was also occasionally followed by cameras from online fans in the real world or opportunistic reporters looking to try and pry precious info of a new marketing campaign MJ happened to be a part of, so this kind of life wasn't new to him either.

Thankfully, he agreed it was best to only get together in private.

As the months flew by, exams and assignments came and went, but their friendship only flourished.

Miles found himself admitting some surprising things to MJ on late-night text conversations when he couldn't sleep and needed to hop out of his dorm window to burn some energy. He found himself doodling his friend in his sketchbook often, unable to scrub the images of his flawless modeling photos from his brain.

He found himself... doodling their names together on hastily discarded sticky notes and coming up with illegible graffiti so he can mash their names together on stickers and shamelessly slap them up onto signs, onto walls, onto bathroom stalls and stairwells and notebooks and poles and bus stops and--

Miles startled out of a reverie as he was balancing himself on a random window ledge somewhere in the city, fully suited up, sketchbook in hand as he doodled little hearts around a profile study of MJ. Tucked under the page he was working on was an embarrassing amount of stickers with his and MJ's last names on them.

God. The humiliation he would face if MJ ever got his hands on this book. His mind flashes back to the sheer embarrassment he felt back when Gwen suddenly dropped down into his room from a portal and began to leaf through his old sketchbook, finding one too many drawings of her own face in the pages.

The memories snapped him out of his weird love-induced haze and forced him to shamefully fold over the corner of the page and hide those little hearts.

First, you ran away from him after you figured out he was an MJ, now you're obsessed with him. ¿Quién te puedes entender?

The sound of Miles' conscience was taking the harsh shape of his mother's voice. Not good.

He sighed and shut his sketchbook, shoving it into his backpack that was webbed onto the wall right next to him. Crime never slept, but it did have its ebbs and flows that Miles found himself in tune with as the months went by. This hour on a Thursday evening happened to be one of the slower hours for crime fighting, it seemed.

Regardless, he yanked his bag from its sticky confines and brushed the webs off, straightening himself up from his position and mindlessly checking his phone for any pressing updates.

Finding none, and with nothing much else to do... he sent MJ a quick text.

Miles: Busy rn?

He knocked himself on the forehead for it, knowing he might regret what he was about to propose but... he couldn't get the guy out of his head. He was dreaming about MJ on the regular now, which was never a good sign. Might as well see if he was up to doing any crazy last-minute stunts since the heart seemed to want what it wanted.

The reply came almost immediately after.

MJ: Nope, just surrounded by a pile of annoying hw, why do you ask?

Miles grinned as he typed a quick reply, hit send, and shot a web up to climb to the roof of the building.

Miles: I'm thinking I'm like... about a 15 mins walk away from your place. Wanna hang? I can swing by

He can almost taste the eye roll in MJ's replies, which made him smile beneath his mask.

MJ: You're corny as hell and that's exactly why you're my friend

MJ: Just give me a few to get ready

Miles sends back an affirmative, and tucks his phone right into his bag's side pocket which he then throws over a shoulder. He turns towards the general direction that MJ's penthouse apartment is located, right over the Brooklyn Bridge.

On his way there, he rehearses all of the coolest lines he could think of, not quite hoping to impress his friend or anything, but hoping that maybe MJ won't see him for the weird dork everyone else treats him as. And... to also keep him from suspecting anything or whatever.

They've hung out together countless times before, after their initial meetup. And not once did flawless-fashionable-cool-model MJ make him feel like he was ever uncool or off-putting. Maybe that was why Miles was so infatuated with him, when it came down to it. Still a good idea to play it safe, just in case.

It would have served Miles much better if he gave this friendship an even wider berth, retained his mysterious reputation... but there was something so arresting about MJ's eyes, his mannerisms and gentleness that contrasted so sharply with his quick wit, surprising bravery and intelligence.

Miles can shoot off the wittiest lines on the planet, but at the end of the day, he was still a boy with a crush. Alas.

In the time that he vaulted around NYC as Earth-1610's Spiderman, Miles developed a knack for snappy one-liners that MJ seemed to find endearing. Whenever they were together, they often fell into good-natured jabs and quips at each other, and he was so enamoured by it.

And it seemed like they just... naturally fell into the gravity of each other's orbit often anyways. Miles would look up into a crowd anywhere at Visions and immediately be able to find MJ. Like he developed an MJ-sense alongside his own spidery ones.

Two twin stars locked in orbit, a binary system forever hurtling through space together.

God, he really needed to get it together. That was super cheesy even for him, and he watched Titanic on his laptop damn near a hundred times at this point.

The thought had him yanking on his webs much harder and flying through the late evening air just to burn off the heat that built up in his gut.

He had to quickly remind himself that regardless of whatever happened between them, he promised that he would forever cherish it all. Miles wasn't an idiot, he knew that being Spiderman put a dampener on a lot of his relationships in life. It was a constant tug-of-war between him and his parents, and Ganke often reminds him of how absent he is at school, even when he's present.

Whatever happens between him and MJ in the future is whatever happens. Miles has already made peace with the inevitability of reality, like he so often needed to in this life. No need to get his hopes up.

Sobering up, Spiderman does several somersaults in the air before attaching a web onto the corner of MJ's swanky high-rise located not too far from the bridge. He sticks to the reflective glass and lets gravity do all the work for him as he drops down a few stories, hoping he was just a quick black blur that could be chalked up to just being a bird of some kind in case anyone happened to glance out their windows.

He hasn't been over to MJ's apartment at all, but knows the building from the outside very well thanks to the two friends' prior escapades. MJ's mom was strict according to him, and after sneaking them both out of the window to go to a mall or hang out at a park, swing around the city a bit and then drop MJ off back home, Spiderman was well acquainted with his bedroom window as a result.

He finds it again effortlessly and hangs upside down by a web, slowly lowering himself into view.

MJ's eyes light up immediately upon seeing him. He perks up, gets up from his computer chair to carefully lock the bedroom door and moves right back to his window.

"Well hello there, Spiderman! Glad you could make it." MJ smiles warmly, keeping his voice down. "Sorry, mom and the team are in the living room and I just told her I'm lockin' myself in here to study as hard as I can. Finals coming up and all... but we don't have too much time."

"Which is why you're only stepping out for a bit of air, right? Real quick, I promise." Spiderman replies good-naturedly. "It'll help clear your head."

MJ huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. "Where would I be without you?"

"It's Spiderman's job to help all of the citizens of New York... and you look like you could use it, so,"

MJ slides his window open even wider, already throwing a leg over the sill. "My hero."

Together, they drop down a few stories, just free-falling and enjoying the chill of the late evening for a few seconds, shrouded by the dusk's descent that was already darkening the vast sky above them.

MJ gasps breathlessly when Spiderman shoots out a web and sends them sailing over congested streets filled to the brim with cars and trucks, over tall street lamps and past bright digital billboards advertising all kinds of products.

They zoom past more buildings, arcing gracefully around corners. At one point, MJ dares to loosen a grip on Spiderman's shoulders and splay his fingers out against the wind.

They fly together like birds for a minute more, soaring through the air and then rounding right back on the path they carved into it so Spiderman could deposit his friend right back home.

MJ said they didn't have much time, right? And Miles was satisfied with their short little hangout anyhow. He got his hands on his crush, had him clinging onto his arms and his neck the entire time they were airborne. It was getting late and he had to head back to Visions himself as well.

"Take me up to the roof real quick," MJ pants into his ear. Miles tries very hard not to think too much about that as he wordlessly follows orders and makes a beeline for the roof access.

Together, they land near the edge, overlooking the concrete jungle that was Manhattan, surrounded on all sides by tall buildings that seemed to reach up to heavens, still much taller than MJ's own building.

It was a miracle they weren't seen together, but that might've been because of the glitter and glitz of the city night all around them. New Yorkers never really looked up anyways.

Below them, the traffic and the bustle of the city continued at its usual pace; a constant thrum of vibrations, sounds and lights as they flowed up and down the streets like blood cells traveling through veins.

Both boys leaned their elbows onto the roof's raised edge and peered all around them, enjoying their temporary peace, catching their breath.

"I'm real glad I met you, you know?" MJ says, uncharacteristically sincere. His face was an open door now, but he was still unable to meet Spiderman's eyes.

Miles thought it might be appropriate to keep his mask on for now.

"Man, I only swung us around for like a few minutes. You don't need to confess your love for me, I'll take a thanks as payment. That's all." He joked but still tried to keep the sarcasm light. Didn't want to ruin the moment, after all.

MJ offered a crooked smirk at that, but then sobered up again. "Nah, really, man. I mean it. I'm not sure where I'd be right now if I hadn't transferred over to Visions and literally bumped into you. Crazy how life works like that, huh?"

"Right, especially since you were my biggest fan before that," Miles reminds him. "Serendipity or whatever."

MJ nods slowly. "Serendipity. Yeah... exactly. Sorry. What did you just say?"

Caught off guard, Miles hesitates for a bit. Play dumb, Morales!

"Uhh, what did I just say?"

MJ laughs, punching Miles on the arm before folding his own arms over his chest. "I was a fan of the old Spiderman before you came along. When he died..." he averts his eyes, studying his shoes. "Yeah, that sucked. But then you came along out of the blue... anyways. I just took it as a sign, that's all."

Miles dramatically wilts against the side of the roof. "Daaamnn, bro. I just swung you around the city for a bit! I gave you a free ride, and I don't even get to be your favorite? I see how it is."

MJ bursts out laughing. "Don't worry, Spiderman," he says, holding up his hands placatingly. "You're on your way to replacing him soon enough! Keep giving me those free rides. And uh... thanks," he finishes lamely, raising his hand to shoot his friend a salute. "Yeah. Thanks. For this."

They smile sheepishly at each other for a few seconds and Miles swears he's going to start roasting alive in his suit pretty soon from the way the warmth in his chest was radiating outward towards every limb.

Butterflies were swirling inside of his gut and he swears he can hear the sappy music from a romance movie Miles watched recently playing somewhere near them. Maybe now was the time to... stop avoiding his feelings? Take that leap of faith, right?

He's done it many times before. This time was probably no different than any other time where he's been thrown way out of his comfort zone only to be kinda glad it happened, in retrospect.

He opened his mouth and started to speak at the same time MJ did.

"So, Em--"

"Uh, so--"

They jumped in unison, wide eyes meeting wide lenses. MJ dipped his head.

"Oh, sorry I was--" Miles chuckled, bopping his forehead with a hand. "S-sorry, what were you gonna say?"

He winced at the jarring awkwardness of it all. The sappy music went silent, the mood thoroughly ruined.

"Oh, well, uh--" MJ looked just as flustered as Miles felt. "N-nah, sorry, I was just gonna say that... that it's been a little while now. So I should probably be heading back," he gestured awkwardly over his shoulder towards the side of the building, trailing off.

"Riiiight, right. Yeah, duh. Of course. Just, uh," Miles turns so his back is facing his friend, gesturing at it as if to say hop on. "Lost track of time, I guess. My bad,"

"What were you gonna say?" MJ asks, right next to Miles' ear as always.

Silently, Miles tucks that part of himself away again for later.

He was really 100% willing to risk it all and go for it, just fully display all of that for a measly chance at getting to date the most popular kid at school right now, and one of the coolest people that he's ever met. He would kick himself if he weren't carrying him right there on his back.

What a stupid idea, Miles. Real dumb, even for you.

In a fraction of a second, he stuffs his emotions right back down in him. Time and place. Not the time, not the place, he reasons. They'd just met a few months ago, and they got off on a pretty rocky start. It just wasn't the time to be making such rash decisions. Yeah, that was it.

"Nah, forget it. I think I was just gonna ask if you wanted to come with me and Ganke to our favorite comic shop this weekend, but that's a dumb question--"

MJ suddenly squeezed his hands tighter around Miles' shoulders. "Duh! It's a dumb question because the answer is obviously yes, of course."

"You like comic books!? Since when?" Miles exclaimed in shock.

"I'm beating you as the top student in chem class right now. You are not nerdier than me. Stop playin' with me." MJ grumbles grumpily. He digs his chin vindictively into Miles' shoulder.

Miles' loud bark of laughter echoed off the rooftop as he takes a running leap towards the ledge, hops on it and promptly sends them plummeting several stories down.

MJ's cry echoed around them even louder.

After about a minute or so, MJ's back inside of his room and they're both trying very hard to suppress laughter so hard that their cheeks hurt and they're crying tears.

Thankfully, outside of the bedroom door, MJ's family never heard a thing.

[timothyslucy]

if you ever think for a second that nadine is at fault for everything that happens to her in the edge of seventeen, you will be exiled.

[licorishh]

OH YEAH ALSO finally watched the FNAF movie with the coolest person on Earth, 11/10 movie, Mike looked ready to curl up into a fetal position on the floor and burst into tears at all moments, he is so me, would watch again

[the-halfling-prince]

My brain: You do not need to write a fanfiction for niche 1999 (probably straight to VHS or made for TV) movie The Pact. It was a mid movie. You said it was mid.

Me: If those sad orphans don't kiss right now I don't know what I'll do

[existential-extrovert]

I’m getting tired of all the style angst on TikTok rn 😭 like I eat it up obviously, but like plssss remember it’s canon in the fixed tl that they stay friends and care about each other when they’re adults 🥲🥲🥲

[itstimetodrew]

Got my tickets to see all 3 original Spider-Man movies in theaters next month!!!!

[alaskan-wallflower]

oooh if sheila had a daughter she would totally see the barbie movie with her and would SOB at what was i made for.

#notbasedoffmyownmom

[favroitecrime]

just finished 12 season of bob’s burgers and i’m not ready for the movie not season 13

[brainjuicey]

I'm not going to lie, this nytimes article about Val kilmer makes me cry when I read it!

[comradecowplant]

If I had shapeshifting powers like Odo I'd turn into an orangutan and teach other great apes sign language (but for real) and ignite Intelligent Super Ape Socialism