#michael mentioned ‼️

[starlightandmusings]

at the risk of sounding cynical, i really don’t think that post-canon, everything in newsies is great and happy and, well, disneyfied.

i’ve never seen crutchie as surviving past, like, 20. sometimes in polio patients, post-polio syndrome occurs, worsening muscle paralysis and possibly affecting breathing up to the point of death. not to mention polio itself affects the immune system. even if he did survive, his quality of life would be pretty poor — he would almost certainly live in poverty, if he avoided the poorhouse.

i’ve never believed that katherine and jack could end up getting married or being together long term. there were historical exceptions for wealthy people marrying below their own status, but they were rare; katherine would’ve faced extreme social pressure. and also, they’re like, 17 or 18 when they get together. katherine is utterly naive, privileged, and impulsive; jack has anger issues and unresolved PTSD. i mean it when i say they’re not really good for each other, no matter how sweet i think they are. and i don’t think it worked out for them.

on that front, i don’t think jack is a very healthy person, or at least not for a long time. his trauma is deep and severe, and he flinches at little touches, raises his voice at the littles (despite hating himself for it), has horrific dreams of michael almost nightly. tears became strongly feminized in the 19th century along with showing strong emotion, and jack — with his hypermasculine western fixation and predisposition to posturing— would’ve fallen especially prey to these ideas. he internalizes his trauma, covers his scars under layers of fabric, and shoves his feelings down ever deeper.

if race kept up with the gambling and skirting with the law, he could’ve gotten involved in bigger, sketchier stuff, like working with the five points gang (irish) or the eastman gang (jewish). (race is canonically italian/jewish/irish depending on your sources.) we know race has bad impulse control and is hotheaded; if he got into sketchier territory, he could have easily gotten himself into trouble, sent upstate to sing sing or rikers. that’s some major extrapolation, but i could see it happening.

all that to say, i resent disney for covering the show in this kid-friendly gloss when that’s just not the bleak reality. maybe that’s why i love hard promises. it’s hard, and dark, but it makes the glimpses of joy that much brighter. don’t do these kids a disservice by pretending their lives were all easy and happy, because they’re fighters for a reason.

[chrisrashizushi]

Deliver Us From Temptation (But Not This Time)

Part 2 : part 1 linked below and in comments

🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤

The sun cracked through the blinds like a snitch.

Dust danced in the air. The motel A/C rattled like a dying cough. Somewhere, a baby cried two rooms down. But in Room 209, Michael Jackson was on his knees. Literally.

Hands clasped. Head bowed. Tears shining in his lashes. He was whispering, “Dear Jehovah… forgive me. I have defiled my temple. I let the harlot of Babylon ride me like a beast of burden—”

Chrissie from the bed, groaning, “Oh my GOD—are you seriously praying right now?!”

She sat up, yanking the crusty motel sheet over her body like it could protect her from the secondhand embarrassment radiating off him like microwaved shame. Her lashes were stuck to one eyelid, her hair looked like she fought a raccoon in the parking lot, and her cherry gloss was smeared across one cheek like the ghost of last night’s sins.

“Boy, get your pants on and get the hell out. You over here cryin’ to Jehovah while your dick still inside me.”

Michael flinched like she slapped him with a Bible.

He stood up slowly, pulling up his pants with shaking hands, hoodie slipping off one shoulder like a nun caught doing something nasty. He looked wrecked. Spiritually and physically.

But he didn’t leave. “I think I wanna live here.”

“Huh?”

“Like… move in. Be with you. Forever. You changed me, Chrissie. I don’t even want to go back to Kingdom Hall. I want to go to Chrissie Hall. I saw Jehovah in your eyes last night. And I think—maybe—you could meet my mother.”

Chrissie blinked. Once. Twice.

Then threw her flip-flop at his head.

“BOY. GET. OUT.”

One Week Later

Michael didn’t leave.

He moved in.

Kind of.

His suitcase was now open in the corner. Two crisp button-ups, a travel-sized cologne, and a copy of The Watchtower were stacked on top like a cursed altar. His toothbrush was in her sink. He rearranged her motel Bible. He put his underwear in her drawer.

Chrissie was spiraling.

Every night he sat on the edge of the bed reading Bible verses out loud like bedtime stories. Every morning he’d hum “Human Nature” while folding her thongs into neat little origami swans.

And worst of all?

He kept talkin’ about marriage.

“You ever think about a wedding dress, Chrissie? I see you in white. Maybe ivory. Strapless. I’d cry. You’d cry. We’d wash each other’s feet like the disciples.”

“Michael, you’re in a motel.”

“But not forever. I was thinking—once we save up—me, you, a little dog named Jericho. Maybe a townhouse in Pasadena. I’ve been looking at house listings…”

Chrissie exhaled slowly.

Her money had been low all week. Not because business was slow—but because Michael scared off every client.

He glared at them from the window like a watchdog for virginity. One man tried to come up the stairs and Michael said “You shall not pass” like Gandalf in the parking lot. Another got chased off with a rolled-up Awake! magazine.

And now?

Chrissie had had enough.

That Afternoon She stood in the middle of Room 209, arms crossed, wearing nothing but a robe and a fed-up expression.

Chrissie:

“Michael. You gotta go.”

“Go where, baby?”

“To your mama house. To Neverland. To ANYWHERE BUT HERE. You messin’ up my money.”

“But I thought we were building a life.”

“The only thing you building is an eviction notice. You think Motel 6 don’t notice you ain’t paid for no nights? That I’m covering your food? You know how many lashes I glued down just to keep you fed, Bible boy?!”

Michael sat up, frowning. His curls flopped in front of his eyes.

“I can contribute Or… I can teach moonwalking and you can teach pole dancing classes at the Y. Something wholesome. And you can make money that way.”

Chrissie sighed so hard her soul left her body and circled back.

“Michael. I’m not your wife. I’m not your girl. I’m not your mission trip. You had one good night of coochie and lost your entire religion.”

“But I meant it. I love you.”

“Well I loved having clients. And money. And privacy. So unless you plan on paying for this room with Jesus coins, I need you out by 5.”

He didn’t move out. Instead it got worse and it all started with the toothbrush.

She noticed it on Day Two.

A sleek, white, clearly-expensive electric toothbrush with gold accents and the initials “MJ” engraved on the handle like it was some kind of Grammy award for dental hygiene.

By Day Three, it was the cologne. Black Orchid. Sprayed liberally. Constantly. It clung to the motel curtains like regret.

By Day Five, it was everything.

He had taken over.

The closet—tiny, warped, and meant for one nightstands and murderers—now hung with custom military jackets, silk shirts, and at least four sequined loafers lined in a row like holy relics.

The bathroom counter was overflowing: hairbrushes, La Mer moisturizer, rosewater mist, toothbrushes, gloves, nail files, organic shea butter, a lavender silk bonnet, and one single, perfectly folded white glove perched on a towel like it was about to host communion.

The motel fridge?

FILLED.

Avocados. Bottled spring water from Norway. Cut-up fruit in Tupperware. Even oat milk.

Chrissie stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, breathing like a bull in stilettos. “Michael. We need to talk.”

Michael from the bed, eating her chips that she PAYED for, “Good morning, my angel. Want a smoothie?”

“I want you to get your shit and GO.”

He stopped mid-crunch. Sat up, curls bouncing, “Why would I leave? We’re building a life here. I bought candles. Look, sandalwood!”

He pointed at the candle he lit proudly. The smoke rose gently above the stained motel wall. Romantic. Pathetic. Terrifying.

Chrissie snapping and at her limit said, “Michael, this is a MOTEL. Not your f**king summer cottage! You got Grammy awards in my makeup drawer and I ain’t been able to find my concealer in three days!”

He blinked.

Michael:

“Well, that’s because I used it.”

Chrissie:

“WHAT?!”

Michael:

“It’s high quality, right? You said it’s good. And it covered my dark circles wonderfully. You can’t even tell I’ve been crying every night.”

Chrissie sat down before her knees gave out. Her money was gone. Not because of her usual expenses, but because Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, had scared off her income. Again.

Every client she tried to book got intercepted like a biblical plague.

He stood in the motel parking lot like a one-man security system.

“I rebuke you in the name of the Father!”

“You shall not touch what the Lord has claimed!”

“Her body is a temple!”

NO ONE came back after that.

And now her wallet was dry. Her nails were lifting, Her hair was stressed, and her bills were very touched. “I’m not making money, Michael. You got me out here broke with glitter in my scalp and two days left on this room.”

“I told you, I’ll pay for the room. I got money.”

“You handed the Motel Manager a Thriller vinyl and called it currency.”

He paused.

“…He said he liked it.”

“You said he could autograph it himself.”

Michael looked genuinely wounded. Like she kicked his inner child. He reached into his glittery duffel bag and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper. “I’ve been budgeting. I even wrote a proposal.”

“‘Motel 209 Expansion Plan: Hot Plate, Fairy Lights, Outdoor Plants from Home Depot.’ Are you HIGH?”

He reached for her hands. His eyes were big. Wet. Full of glitter and delusion. “I want to build a future with you. A home. We can paint the walls pink. We can get bunk beds. I’ll pay off your motel debt. I’ll turn the ice machine into a private studio.”

“Michael. This ain’t Neverland.”

“It could be.”

She blinked.

Then blinked again.

Then calmly walked into the bathroom and screamed into a hand towel.

The lights were low.

The sandalwood candle was lit.

Anita Baker whispered from a tiny pink speaker. The air was thick with lavender and delusion.

Michael had gotten up and taken a shower.

His curls were damp, his skin glistening, and he wore nothing but silk pajama pants, no shirt, and a hopeful expression. “I thought maybe… if you’re not tired, we could… you know. Reconnect. Spiritually. Physically. Biblically.”

He sat on the bed slowly, all thighs and timid glances, hands clasped like he was preparing to take communion between her legs. He smelled like cocoa butter and sin-in-progress.

Chrissie didn’t even look up.

She was filing her nails with the focus of a surgeon.

“How much money you got?”

“…Pardon?”

“I said—how. Much. Money. Do. You. Got.”

Michael’s mouth dropped open like she’d just hit him with a stray lyric from ‘Dirty Christina’, “I—I thought we were… a couple?”

She finally turned to face him, face blank, lashes deadly. “Michael, baby. This pussy costs money. I don’t care who you are. I’m out here working with synthetic hair, six chipped nails, and a MAC foundation that’s been empty for two weeks and you talking about making love?”

She stood up. Dramatically. In her robe and rhinestone bonnet. “Let me break it down for you.”

She grabbed a notebook.

Opened it.

Cleared her throat.

“$75—fill in for the nails you bit during sex.

$120—hair maintenance, because you out my good conditioner.

$46.99—sheer lingerie you ripped trying to find the coochie like it was a treasure map.

$19.99—Food Delivery, because your dramatic ass fainted after nutting and needed ‘emergency waffles.’

$15—plan B.

$28—candle refills.

$350—lost client income, because you stood at the motel gate yelling scriptures and scared off Terrance with the good credit score.”

She looked up. “TOTAL: $654.98. Rounded up for emotional damage.”

Michael was… frozen.

Absolutely shattered.

Mouth parted. Eyes glistening. As if the math alone had slapped him across the face. “I thought you loved me.”

“I do. But love don’t pay the bills, and you have the audacity to ask for repeat business without even tipping.”

Michael stood up, clutching his pants at the waist like he was about to deliver a monologue in a tragic opera. “I left my mansion for this. I left my chef. My fountain. I left bubbles the chimp in Encino to sleep on your broken motel mattress with bed bugs that speak in tongues—for you, Chrissie.”

“And now you can leave this room, too.”

She handed him a laminated invoice.

“…‘Dick Tax’? What’s that?”

“That’s the charge for busting a gallon inside me then cuddling like a Build-A-Bear. $200 minimum, cash only.” The room was silent. Too silent. Chrissie could hear the storm brewing behind her without even turning around.

The shuffle of silk pajama pants.

The trembling breath.

The soft “hmph” sound of a man who’s about to spiral into a tantrum not even his PR team could fix.

“This isn’t fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, baby. That’s why my rent’s due and your glove is hanging on a motel hook like a crackhead’s chandelier.”

Michael’s lip trembled.

He clenched his fists.

His curls bounced with righteous rage.

“I gave you everything! I cancelled a tour date for you!”

“That’s wild. I canceled two clients who were gonna pay me $400 apiece because your ass decided to read Leviticus from the balcony.”

And then he snapped. “I’M MICHAEL FUCKING JACKSON!” The voice cracked. The falsetto dipped into fury. He stomped his foot like a child who just got told he couldn’t have cereal for dinner. His hands flailed. His curls whipped dramatically.

Chrissie blinked.

“Are you throwing a tantrum right now?”

“Hmph! Shut up dummy!” He flopped face-down onto the bed like a Victorian woman swooning over unrequited love. He pouted into the pillow. Curled into himself like a cinnamon roll of entitlement and unsatisfied horniness.

Michael (muffled):

“You don’t love me. You just used me for a paycheck and sandalwood candles.”

Chrissie rolled her eyes, “Michael, get your dramatic ass OFF my bed.”

He didn’t move.

So she did what any woman running out of patience, rent money, and edge control would do:

She kicked him in the face.

Not hard. Not malicious.

Just… a gentle flex of dominance. A reminder that this was her turf. Her kingdom. And she was the one with the pussy, the power, and the last dollar in the bag.

Her toes—polished baby pink, freshly filed—connected right with his cheek. A soft bop. A press of authority. Her heel against his jaw.

Michael gasped. Not from pain. Not from shock. But from realization. “…Do it again.”

Chrissie blinked. “Huh?”

“Please. Kick me again.”

A silence fell between them.

Chrissie lowered her foot. Slowly. Suspiciously.

Then raised her eyebrow.

“You got a foot fetish?”

He tried to deny it but the more he explained himself the more guilty he looked. “Your toes are… divine. Like the Sistine Chapel. Like pink candy. Like holy little cherries from heaven.”

Chrissie stared at him like he just told her he eats lotion.

“Boy, what?!”

He grabbed her foot with reverence. Held it like a sacred object. Kissed her ankle with trembling lips like it was a Bible verse.

“ Not saying I would but I could die between your toes.”

Chrissie yanked her foot back.

“Michael. What the fuck.”

“I’ll pay the rent. I’ll pay the bills. Just please don’t judge me!!!!”

She stared at him.

Then down at her toes.

Then back at him.

Then sighed.

❤️🖤❤️❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️

To be continued…

[poured-my-past-down-the-drain]

Tommy wakes up at his normal time, blinking the weariness out of his eyes. He yawns, noticing a blue giftbox, tied shut with opalescent ribbons at the foot of the bed.

… For the first few seconds, Tommy really just blinks at the box, tired and barely able to keep his eyes open.

He rubs at his eyes and yawns, not bothering with switching on the hotel’s nightstand lamp — not when he left the room dim to begin with, unable to keep his brain quiet when it was absolutely dark. He just scoots down the bed a tad, pushing tangled blonde hair from his face and grabbing the box.

The ribbons were very pretty. They’d probably wind up in his trinket collection. He took just a bit of time to admire longer, and opened the box.

[jumptheshark]

this week we’re learning about angels and demons in my supernatural & paranormal class this is what i’ve been training for

[reidsdimples]

“He pins you down on the carpet, makes paintings with his tongue.”

Paintings With His Tongue

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

18+ ❤️‍🔥MDNI ‼️

“Come on, just tell me what you’re thinking,” Reid smirks and tosses a ball of tissue paper at you.

You cross your legs and tug up your knee high socks. The carpet in his apartment is soft on your legs and you shake your head as you continue to wrap JJ’s baby shower gifts from the team.

You had gotten her a puzzle with the new baby’s name as the pieces ‘Michael’ it read. You thought it went so well with Henry,

“I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s a me issue,” you shake your head. You had bit your tongue on a risqué joke that could have been taken as a pass at him.

The truth was, you were extremely pent up. You dumped your abusive ex weeks ago when he bruised your eye. Even before then, your needs were not being met. But you have always had a thing for Dr.Reid and now being alone with him in his apartment… you were barley holding yourself together.

He moistened his plump lips with his tongue in frustration and sighed. The movements of his deft fingers as he wrapped a present caused you to squirm. How exactly the two of you got roped into present wrapping duty was still a mystery. Though you guessed Garcia was trying to finally push you two into each other like Barbie and Ken dolls. You smile to yourself.

“See? What was that- what are you thinking?” He calls you out.

“You may never know,” you flirt and snatch the tape from his grip.

He raises an eyebrow at you, those deep brown eyes pleading.

You stretch your legs out in front of you, placing your crossed feet on his lap. His eyes travel up to your short skirt which allows him a view of your creamy thighs. You swear he swallows hard.

“I was just thinking…” you start slowly. He leans forward attentively.

He rests one hand on your shin, his long fingers wrapping it completely.

“Thinking what?” The air charges and he separates your crossed legs only to lean forward and closes the distance between the two of you. Your heart hammers and you forget how to breathe.

“I…” you think he’s about to kiss you as he gets closer, forcing you to pull your knees to your chest to give him room as you lean back on your palms.

He snatches the other wrapping paper from behind you and moves back to sit. You inhale sharply and shake your head. Fuck.

He pushes his hair back from his face and you nearly fall apart. You know you need to do something about your neediness. He’s your coworker for fucks sake.

Then an idea pops into your head.

“You know what, we’re profilers. Why don’t YOU tell me what I’M thinking,” you challenge him.

He looks up at you through his messy long hair with the handle of the scissors in his mouth. His fingers quickly work to tape up the diaper bag for JJ.

“I don’t know if I…”

“You doubt your abilities Dr. Reid?” You sit up straight.

“I doubt you’ll like what I profile,” he reasons.

That makes you doubt he knows what you’re actually thinking.

“Try me,” you demand and stuff a bag full of tissue paper.

He narrows his eyes on you and loosens his tie. The dark cardigan was already tossed into the couch three presents ago and he begins rolling up his sleeves.

“You’re healing from your recent break up. You feel guilty that you miss him because he hurt you but you do. What you don’t quit understand is that you miss attention, not him. You deserve better but you don’t think so,” he pauses to sip his wine. You tilt your head.

“Is that it?” You jest.

“You knew you and I would be alone so you’re wearing something more revealing than you might have otherwise. You flip your hair over your shoulder to draw my attention to your neck. You lean back and allow me to see your thighs because you want me between them.”

Your mouth falls open at his words. But he doesn’t stop there.

“Not because you want me specifically but because you want that attention I mentioned before. Perhaps a distraction or…”

“No- that’s not true,” you cut him off.

“You’re wearing glasses, knee high socks, and a school girl style skirt because you perceive me as intellectually superior. You have a school girl and teacher fantasy you wish to act out.”

He leans forward between your legs again. He braces himself above you when you lean back on your elbows and he keeps talking.

“You’ve been trembling since you got here, you won’t stop biting your lip, and you keep squeezing your thighs together. You were about to make a joke that showed your hand but thought better of it because you fear rejection. You also don’t want to cross professional boundaries, and you can’t gauge where my interests lie.”

You’re dumbfounded, actually speechless as his breath fans across your face.

“Your inability to read my micro expressions leaves you feeling uncertain about the chemistry we have and I intended it to be that way. The truth is I want nothing for than to bury my face between your legs and make you scream my name until your throat is so sore that you remember it everytime you speak tomorrow,” he holds your gaze and you’re melting.

You feel your cunt pulsing with need and you want to squeeze your thighs together for some relief but you can’t because he’s kneeling between them.

“Please,” is all you can manager to whimper.

He grips you behind the knees and slides you forward so quickly you barely register it. You fall willingly onto your back with a soft huff and watch him meticulously roll your skirt up. His hair is messy and disheveled and he seems to be panting with need just like you are.

Wrapping paper crinkles beneath you but you don’t care when he leans down and begins kissing your thighs.

“Spencer,” you inhale in shock at his lips on your skin.

He continues to kiss your soft skin then starts nipping it gently. His fingers dig into the outside of your thighs, pinning them open. You never would have thought he’d be so… demanding?

He starts to kiss your pussy through your underwear and you writhe against him. The friction is heaven but the view of him there could send you both straight to hell. He moves one hand up to your hip to pin you down why he uses a thumb to rub your clit. He’s kissing your pussy gently and you know you’re soaked, you know he can feel it through the thin fabric.

Finally he rolls your panties down and out of the way. He looks up at you for consent ones more and dives in like he’s been waiting to his entire life.

It’s too much, it’s everything. His nose pushes against your clit, his tongue drags up between your folds, he comes back down to your interest and pushes his tongue into it into you mewl.

He’s moaning and he licks and laps at your cunt, slowly to savor it. He moans as he sucks your clit into his mouth and moves back down to your hole.

“Oh my god,” you cry and tighten your thighs around his head.

He sucks on your pussy and audibly devours you on his living room floor. He skillfully and artfully brings you to climax and before you know it you’re coming over and over again for him. You pant beneath him and whimper but he doesn’t stop.

He makes small whimpering noises of approval and eats you like a man starved. Your pussy quivers and responds to him as he continues to beckon more cum out of you. You swear his tongue must be painting a masterpiece or spelling every word in the English language.

“One more,” he pants from between your legs.

You roll your eyes back as the fourth orgasm siezes you. You can’t even try to tense your legs anymore, they’re jell-o. You’re shocked when the last orgasm is more squirting that your usual.

“I’m sorry!” You squeal but he laughs and dives back into you, his strong hands still gripping your hips. You cover your face in embarrassment, not ever having had more than one orgasm per sexual encounter.

Ones he fills himself on that last orgasm which left you red faced and embarrassed, Spencer sits up from between your legs. He’s on his knees looking down out you when he brings his shirt up to wipe his face.

You cover your eyes with your hands, utterly shy under his gaze.

“You are incredible,” he breathes.

“Me? You… you’re the one that did all the… that,” you stammer gesturing between the two of you. You sit back up and pull your skirt down.

“Mhmm,” he grins sinisterly at you.

You remain in awe that this man just did that to you. You crushed on him but you never imagined him to be so skilled, so dirty mouthed, and egotistic about his abilities. You glance down and see just how much he enjoyed himself, taken aback by the length of said enjoyment.

You lick your lips hungrily.

“For the record. It’s not about attention for me, I genuinely like you,” you assert and reach for his belt.

He raises his eyebrow in a ‘touché’ manner and crosses his hands behind his back as he watches you pull him free from his pants.

[the-s1lly-corner]

hello silly nation ‼️ was maybe wondering if you could do some hcs of the slashers with reader who has scars ? (Preferably on their arms and legs but it’s fine if not) really love your work <3

Slashers x reader w/ scars

Oooo feels like it's been ages since I got a slasher req!! Still need to watch other slasher films... keep pushing that off in the face of other big interests grrr

Characters:Jason, Michael, Bubba

Notes: reader is gn, short and written on puter, scars are on limbs, no explicit reason is stated for the scars, I fear I may be a little rusty with writing these guys maybe idk we'll see!! Dovodovlfcjajs, mentally imagined the scars are larger and stuff so will be building off that mental image

CWs: talk of past injury, chronic pain, general stuff that comes with injuries and the healing process/lasting damage, gift unrelated I just thought it was funny + couldn't find one I liked otherwise, mentions of canon typical death in Michaels part

JASON

hes got a lot of scars... but thats not going to make him indifferent to the scars you have on your body... if anything its going to make him worry more because- WHAT exactly happened to you to make yours accumulate? he knows the kind of damage that needs to be done for tissue like that to form... and he already has a tendency to worry and fret over you... even if something isnt happen presently

but... he tries his best not to stare. he already know what it feels like to be stared at and he doesnt want you to feel like theres something wrong with you- at most he may freak out the first time he sees them but after the shock he forces himself to stop taking sideways glances

if they effect your mobility hes going to step in and help you- you dont even to ask. the second he sees you having some difficulty hes closing in on you to figure out what you need!

BUBBA

he worries, too, but honestly... he might worry to a lesser extent compared to jason. in a way he sees your scars as a sign that youve got some strength to you. that its something to admire to some degree- youve fought through something regardless of scenario and you made it out on the other side!r

and he loves you more for that! you were already so cool before... but now theres this aspect of you to take into consideration! he does try to tone done the outward awe for you if you express that it makes you uncomfortable, though

he sometimes traces his fingers along the edges and borders (if present) of your scars if you let him. its soothing to him... and he hopes it has the same effect on you. it doesnt matter that theyre there, to him its just another piece of you that makes you all the more beautiful thanks to the first point

hes got scars too, and he will show them to you out of solidarity if youre feeling a certain way about your own

MICHAEL

...he... odesnt have much of an outward reaction to the revelation of your scars. which to be fair... when does he ever have a big outward reaction to things? sure you can say killing can be one since he has killed for you BUT thats asides the point!

hes got scars too and hes kind of meh about them. he doesnt think about them much and he powers through any pain or limited mobility they give him out of pure spite and determination. he kind of assumes you do the same-

...he does eye your scars, though. not in a judgmental or grossed out way. hes kind of just mentally mapping them out and... you know you can tell him if someone was the cause of some of them you know. he promises he can be trusted with that information and that he wont go out and do anything

[tiktaalic]

It’s fun to look at Pamela and dean interactions chronologically because they are:

4x01: openly flirting with each other.

Like yeah of course. Of course. Of course you’re Dean Winchester and this is how you interact with a woman.

Next episode she’s in is heaven and hell where most of her interactions are with anna. Dean walks her in, so it could easily be argued that they did their flirting prior to arriving. And then she does some cursory flirting with Sam. But the only time dean DOES talk about her it’s very reserved.

Which makes sense. Their relationship is no longer hot woman meeting hot guy with no complications. It’s hot guy with a crazy guilt complex got hot woman severely and permanently injured.

Next one is death takes a holiday, where she definitely shifts her attention over primarily to Sam.

Sam’s also the one she calls back from astral projecting to help/save her from demons. Everything else with Sam and dean both is pretty down to business. But! Dean is the one who tries to comfort her about the afterlife, albeit badly.

She’s Mentioned in on the head of a pin almost entirely by dean in a guilty way.

SAM: What’s your problem?

DEAN: Pamela didn’t want anything to do with this and we dragged her back into it, Sam.

SAM: She knew what was at stake.

Dean feels bad about her dying. More than that he feels at fault for her dying. And she’s dead, which is something else that shifts the dynamic into more reserved / less wow the rack on that chick!

Next Pamela ep is dark side of the moon. Where she pulls dean away for a private conversation. Granted. This is probably because she wants to say her piece about The Michael Sword. Which amounts to hey man heaven is sick as fuck so it doesn’t really hurt anything if you kill a bunch of people as Michael and they end up in heaven. And then when Sam and dean are leaving, there’s this:

When Pamela’s in heaven, what she wants to do is kiss dean and have him kiss her back. This is the note they leave off on for just about 9 years/seasons.

Which brings us to nihilism ‼️‼️‼️

Lots of comfortable jokey ribbing of two people who are clearly friends and have been for a long time. And then. My cup and scepter.

In dean’s Ultimate but still constrained Fantasy he and Pamela are very good friends and she lays out very clearly that he doesn’t Actually want anything with her. Which is not something dean pushes back on. It’s rly easy for me to see an early seasons dean responding to how come you only want what you can’t have with some stupid line that is still fairly flirtatious (even if the woman’s response is the roll her eyes and smirk and continue to have charged interactions with him that go nowhere) rather than. Whoa. And it’s really easy to tell that early seasons constrained dean fantasies would be very different. I know the ones we saw (what is and what should never be, the dream/nightmare one I can’t remember the name of) they are incredibly domestic. In season two fantasy he has to Make Up A Woman because he doesn’t have any real connections to anyone. In the s4 (?) dream one he defaults to Lisa because that’s who he’s pinning domesticity on at the moment. So it would make some kinds of sense for him to repeat those fantasies in s14. But that’s not what happens. In Dean’s Constrained Fantasy Pamela is NOT interested in him, which contradicts reality. And this isn’t a misplaced guilt closing a woman off as a romantic interest thing, because in this fantasy Pamela Didn’t get her eyes burned out (deans fault if you ask dean) and she Didn’t get violently killed (deans fault if you ask dean). This is a very available woman who kissed dean the last time she saw him. And what dean Wants to happen is for her to be unavailable. So he can do flirting that goes nowhere.

There’s this:

And then there’s this from s2:

Dean DID independently in s2 figure out. This isn’t real, this isn’t right, I need to leave. He did Not independently figure this out in s14 because all the conflict elements were sanded out and he was very comfortable.

I don’t need a conclusion for this post but I’ll do it anyway. Dean Winchester is a closeted homosexual

[beatriceinshadows]

✦𓂃 Trouble Maker! A shattered truth whispered in drunken silence, haunting two hearts forever.

You never wanted to get caught in the Haitani brothers’ twisted game, but fate dragged you into their shadowed world where cold eyes hide ruthless desires, and silent confessions bleed like wounds beneath the surface…

‼️Content Warning: This story contains dark themes including emotional turmoil, complex relationships, and mature situations. Reader discretion is advised.

★ Tenjiku Haitani brothers — ꒰ Forginer! Fem ꒱ !

Being eighteen is a strange age. One day, you might find yourself catching someone’s attention just by starting a random conversation about the differences between Michael Jordan and Michael Jackson.someone whose chance of being in your life is one in a thousand.

For you, getting to know Ran Haitani wasn’t something you ever planned. His filthy reputation had echoed through every hallway of your high school and all over Roppongi for what felt like forever.

I mean, was it even possible to be a student at that damned school and not know about him and his brother? Was there anyone who could mention Tenjiku without saying Ran Haitani’s name in the same breath? And really, who could ever forget those deep purple eyes?

It was on a warm spring day when you met him. Right there, at Nana’s hair salon, that’s where you saw him. Those purple eyes. That long hair. God, even the way he looked just screamed that he is important.

You watched him as he sank into the salon chair, chatting casually with Nana.

“Michael Jordan? But he’s a basketball player…” Nana said, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

And Ran, in his usual stubborn tone, with that nerve-wracking smirk, answered:

“I told you I want my hair done with the vibe I get from one of his songs!”

Nana, apparently not in the mood that day, lowered her pink comb and snapped back:

“And I told you! Michael Jordan is a basketball player. Not a singer!”

“Everyone knows Michael is a singer!” Ran shot back, like he just refused to admit he’d messed up.

And that’s when his eyes, almost by accident, landed on you. Sitting quietly at the manicure table, flipping through magazines, doing your best to suppress your laugh.

“What’re you laughing at?” he snapped.

For a second, you almost forgot who you were talking to. Ran Haitani. One of the Four Heavenly Kings of Tenjiku. The kind of guy no one dared to even glance at the wrong way.

But starting a conversation with him? That might just be your lucky shot.

“Sorry, but I think the Michael you mean is Michael Jackson, not Jordan,” you said, closing the magazine, resting your chin in your palms, meeting his eyes with a calm gaze.

And god, you looked too perfect. It was as if angels had carved every line of your face with their own hands.

The second time you ran into Ran Haitani, you literally crashed into him. You’d slammed right into his back, hard.just as he was walking out of a bakery, his precious Mont Blancs flying from the box and splattering all over the ground.

He turned to glare at you, furious, his eyes flicking between you and his poor, fallen pastries.

“Where the hell did you come from??”

And there you were, shamelessly staring back at him, completely unfazed.until a voice suddenly yelled from behind you:

“Don’t think you can run, you bitch!”

God. Was he seeing this right? Those lowlifes were actually chasing after this girl.someone whose head barely reached his shoulder?

And you? You knew. They wouldn’t dare come any closer. Not with Ran Haitani standing right there. So you stayed put.

“What the hell did you do to get them chasing you like that?” he asked.

“I kinda… smashed a glass bottle over their boss’s head,” you shrugged.

“You can’t just go around the streets smashing people’s heads in.”

“Oh, please. I’m not worse than you, breaking their entire bones!”

All those trips to the salon… all that time Haitani spent caring way too much about his appearance… it naturally led to more encounters.

You kept showing up under the excuse of helping your step mother, Nana. And Ran Haitani? He kept coming back to see that pretty, stubborn idiot who had somehow caught his eye.

He could have anyone he wanted. But right now? Those galaxy-like eyes of his were completely locked on you.the girl who wasn’t even Japanese.Spending a little time with you wouldn’t hurt him… right?

Neither of you really noticed how fast time passed, until suddenly somewhere in the heat of summer, right before the holidays, in the middle of the high school library.

You both crashed into each other’s lips, like you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“You’re way too pretty to be unloved,” Ran whispered between the kisses he pressed against your lips.

“Then love me,” you breathed, tugging him closer, pulling him into a kiss that lingered much longer.

Time was never something you could stop. The clock hands seemed to move even faster now, and there you were.sitting right in the middle of your classmate’s house. Or, more specifically, in the house of the guy you were kinda dating.

You met your classmate.Honestly, he barely showed up to class enough to remember the names of more than five people. So you just chalked his weird stare up to that.

“That’s Rindou… but you probably know my brother better, huh?”Ran shrugged casually as he introduced him.

Of course, Rindou recognized those eyes that clearly didn’t belong to a local. There was something about the way you looked.it was impossible to forget.He’d glanced your way a few times in class before, stealing looks at your hair, those deep eyes. But it never crossed his mind that you were the girl his brother kept talking about.

“Even though we’ve seen each other plenty of times… still, nice to properly meet you, Rindou.” You extended your hand with a smile.

Yeah, seeing your classmate wrapped in your brother’s arms was… kind of weird. Especially when your brother was as stupidly good-looking as Ran Haitani.

But one thing was painfully clear: You weren’t just pretty for a classmate. You were drop-dead gorgeous.And that made it all taste just a little bit more bitter. Because Ran had no idea he was dating his brother’s crush…

The bar was loud, buzzing with the usual mix of voices and bad music.Ran sat across from his little brother, lazily stirring the ice in his drink. Rindou, meanwhile, was clearly gone.

his glasses slipping down his nose, his words messy, unfocused, borderline nonsense.

Just another night. Just another round of drinks.Rindou mumbled something. Low. Slurred.Ran didn’t catch it at first.

“What was that?” he asked, half-laughing, leaning closer.

Rindou’s head barely lifted. He mumbled again, soft, almost like a sigh.

“I loved her.”

Ran blinked.

And then he smirked. “You’re drunk as fuck, man. Don’t talk shit.”

His laugh was light. Teasing.That was always the vibe with them. Always playful. Always easy.

But when he looked up,Rindou wasn’t smiling.

His gaze, fogged up behind his crooked glasses, wasn’t focused but it wasn’t gone either.

That wasn’t a joke. That wasn’t nothing.

Ran’s smile faltered. Just a little.

“Hey. You serious?”

Rindou didn’t answer.Didn’t look at him.Didn’t explain.Just sat there. Quiet. Heavy. Like saying those words took everything out of him.

“Rindou—”

“Forget it.”

His voice cracked, barely there. “I’m just drunk.”

Ran’s chest tightened. His throat felt dry.

He wanted to laugh again. To shake it off. To shove his brother’s shoulder and joke it away.

But he didn’t.Because he knew.Somewhere deep down, he fucking knew.

Rindou stood up, clumsily pushing his glasses back up. “Forget it, Ran.”

That’s all he said before walking away.

But how the fuck could Ran ever forget?The words crawled under his skin. They burned into his bones. They wouldn’t let him go.

I loved her.

Not “I love her.”

Not “I want her.”

Just—I loved her.

Something old. Something buried.Something Ran could never erase.

Rindou would never bring it up again.But Ran would hear it every time he looked at you.Every smile. Every kiss. Every second…

He would remember.

And it would fucking destroy him.

Some stories can’t end that easily…

To be continued.

✦Author’s Note:

Writing this felt like walking on glass. It’s messy, complicated, and a little painful, but that’s what makes it feel real, doesn’t it?So tell me…Who would you choose?

The boy who holds you with warm, playful arms? Or the one who loved you quietly all along, even when he couldn’t say it?

I’d love to know which brother has your heart. Feel free to let me know in the comments. ♡

English isn’t my first language, so there might be some grammar mistakes here and there. Still, I poured my heart into this piece. If you enjoyed it, please let me know.it really means a lot!

Cover is not mine

All rights to this story and its content belong to me.I do not give permission to copy, repost, or translate any part of this work.Please respect my effort and creativity

[bloodwrittenletters]

THE WAY LOVE WORKS

pairing . . . michael townsend x fem!reader

the cassette playing . . . guilty as a sin! taylor swift

the letter reads . . . it's a thrill finding out the person you're head over heels is also as deep as you are!

warnings . . . mention of abusive home and injuries, spoiler-ish.

a/n . . . i got a 100 on my world geography test... LIFE IS GOOD‼️‼️ i kinda did michael's past in my own way because he's #underrated and we don't have much of actual backstory for him so yippe! anyway, this was so cutsie to make because I mushed up two of my favorite things, percabeth + michael townsend, SO YAY!!!!! any who, anyhow, had to change the warnings for a hot second as i was writing, but tomato potato!! i hope y'all enjoy this 😽 and now i will move on to passing out into my new bedsheets (THEY'RE SO CUTE, THEY HAVE TINY BUTTERFLIES AND FLOWERS) if somebody needs me, check with @reidsglasscs first because she's the only person i will wake up from my precious sleep for (that's my bff everyone!!)

@minorlyatfault this one is for the best and coolest cherry lady of tumblr (and again, deepest apologies) who gave me the trope and the idea!!!

you had known michael since the age of twelve.

it was strange in some way, but being michael's best friend was something that you hold on to with both of your hands and all of your strength.

you and michael met in one of the many boarding he attended, one where you found a boy with sad puppy eyes at the back of the school and put Barbie bandaids on the scratches you found in his arms, unknowingly turning yourself as his safe place. his comfort. the heart that wasn't broken by his father, his little sunshine.

it was a great coincidence that the you two ended up in the natural's program. one michael couldn't stop thanking enough because he couldn't have survived without you.

you were the one michael would drag himself to when feeling like he was getting lost between the old bruises of his past and the sarcastic comments he was used to saying.

it was you and your best fried against the world; a pair of hearts that got tangled in each other's heart strings and didn't realize how deeply in love they were 'till the age of 17.

at least... that had been your case. one day, just coming into a short step to realize how long your heart had been aching for michael, how deeply you wished he could soothe you, in a way best friends don't usually do.

a way that involves mouths meeting in a kiss.

michael, on the other hand, had been helplessly in love with you a couple of months after meeting you.

it was the most simple thing in the world.

the hard part was waiting the next five years until you finally realized. he waited. and waited. and kept waiting.

even when it ate him on the inside, michael kept his mouth shut. he did so when he saw love damp your features and gentleness fill your eyes every time you looked at him.

michael saw it every time you wanted to kiss him.

and acting like every single emotion he could pick up from you wasn't the most important thing for him— well, it absolutely sucked!

but he had no plans on telling you the teeny tiny fact that you were in love with him. that was something he would allow you to figure it out... maybe with some help.

'help' as in the most sweetest of touches, as in soft nothings murmured to your ears, as in lingering looks on your lips and soft touches that burned your skin.

he could have a little more shame. but he didn't. michael wanted you, and he wasn't scared of showing it, even when it made your poor and confused mind go crazy over actions that crossed the line between platonic and romantic.

'y'know that you're my only one, right?' was one of the many things he had said to you that kept you up at night. tossing from one side to the other as you asked yourself if it truly did mean something or if it was your brain setting you up.

it was like your brain had suffered an explosion, and all you had left was to wonder how you were so blind to not realize.

there wasn't even a way to hide it!

because even if michael wasn't an emotion reader; he would know because he knew you.

so your dumbed mind crafted a plan that was set to fail: ignoring your best friend until you could take all of your feelings back.

and he noticed. he picked the fact up, and as in love as he was, it didn't stop him from being offended.

"seriously," michael groaned, locking your bedroom door after sneaking in. "for someone so full of brain juice, you take the most stupid decisions."

"what are you doing here?" your words fly out of your lips before you can stop them, apparently in the mood to prove his words right.

"oh, y'know, just coming here to snap you out of it."

"i don't know what you're talking about."

"you're too smart to be stupid," michael hissed, his hand wrapping around your wrist just as you were trying to get him to leave.

the heat of his palm was the warning.

"i always knew you would eventually realized, ya know? known each other since forever, i trust you like a blind man, you always come to me no matter what happens."

he trailed off, completely knowing that the actions he was doing as he spoke were messing you up.

good. he didn't care. he was too busy smoothing you close against his chest, having one arm wrapped security around you and the other holding your jaw steady, not letting you look away.

"so," michael hissed. "you wanna spill the beans and tell me why you've been ignoring me, pretty girl?"

he knew.

but you didn't know that he knew.

"hmm?" he caressed your jawline with his thumb, sometimes squeezing your face, his frown easing by the minute.

"you're my best friend," you started, already blushing by the lack of personal space you had.

"i know that."

"i shouldn't feel this way."

bingo.

"what way?"

your teeth scrapped your bottom lip, wanting to take what you just said so, so badly.

"no, no, don't do that," michael scowled. "you'll hurt yourself, let go."

you did let go. but only to allow all your feelings to spill.

"i'm sorry, i've been ignoring you, you're right. and i'm so, so sorry. i just can't take it! your face is too pretty and i forget how to breathe when i'm around and it took me five years to realize how much i love you!"

michael smirked. "ouch, darlin', i thought that you already loved me."

you blinked. "no! i mean i love you."

"yeah, okay, i heard ya. i love you, too. you're my best friend!"

that was a low blow, one that made your guts twist, one that made your cheeks burn hotter, and one that had your heart breaking internally.

"i, uh, yeah, sure. okay." you murmured.

michael's grin widened, his thumb trailing up to caress your cheek. "what's the frown for?"

"i'm not frowning."

"yes, you are, you little liar," he mocked. "you're burning up," his thumb tapped your left cheek, "your eyes are glassy, you're biting your lip again and," he rubbed his thumb in your forehead, more specifically, in your frown. "you're frowning."

you couldn't stop the scoff from leaving your lips.

"and you wanna know what this points to? you're in love with me! here's the kicker: i'm in love with you, too."

there could be many reasonable reactions to that. like yelling at him for freaking you out. but the urge to have his mouth against yours was bigger.

michael didn't complain when you dragged his face by the hair to your mouth, he didn't complain when your lips smashed against his in a desperate kiss.

actually, he was happy to please.

sweet lips pressing quickly against yours, giving you an inch of breath before pressing back again, stumbling back a few steps as your hands tangled in his hair and one of his went to grab you by the nape of your neck.

"god, finally," michael hissed against your lips, his voice thick, and a big smile as he continued to kiss you. "it was such a pain waiting for you! don't ever do that again."

his mouth worked quickly against yours, desperate to be close to you, wanting to take back all the years lost where the two of you pretended there was just friendship here.

"you're so beautiful," he coed, trailing kisses down to your cheeks and then your jawline.

you took a deep breath. "s-so, we like each other?"

"that's not the word we used," he teased, the smile evident in his tone.

it seemed like he wanted to laugh, and only didn't because he was too busy kissing you.

"but do we?"

"yes, pretty girl, we do," michael mumbled close to your lips before kissing you again.

you could die happily there. in his arms, his mouth on yours, your hands in his hair.

"after this," michael pecked your lips. "we will talk about how obvious you were about me."

"what?"

"oh! yeah, i've known for years," michael kissed you again. "we will also be talking about how much you owe me for having me so stupidly in love with you without even realizing."

"but, michael—"

"even sloane knew!" he kept complaining, stealing kisses from your lips.

and you let him keeping complaining, as long as he kept his words filled with kisses and teasing looks that were too soft.

"but," kiss, kiss, kiss! "i love you, okay? even if you're a little slow when making business with cupid."

[lilgarbitch]

Jane Doe - Noah Sebastian

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

CW: Car accident, death, suicide, hospital, very triggering if any of this hits close to home. Like imagine im blaring a horn, telling you to prepare yourself

Word Count: 4.5k

Author’s Note: Blame the Angst War ™ ft my love for Shakespeare

I will repeat. Heavy trigger warning‼️ PLEASE Do not read unless you have a clear head‼️I didn’t go too graphic, but i will not live with myself if this hurts any of you by reading it. If you do choose to continue to read, I hope you enjoy to the best of your ability, even though this broke my heart just to write it.

If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, help is available. Call or text 988 or chat 988lifeline.org. You can also reach Crisis Text Line by texting MHA to 741741.

quick plug for my co conspirator @blade-dressed-in-red who helped me with so much of this, keeping me sane and shooting ideas back and forth with me to make this the best I could. I’m extremely grateful❤️

Tags: @theanarchymuse95 @dontwantthemoney @chey-h @badomensgoodomens @bloody-spades @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @thatchickwiththecamera @tosoundlessdarkistare @lacy1986 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @heyyoplayer

Noah

I stared at the TV, my phone still open in my hand to the text exchange between Matt and me. He had just mentioned seeing a warning that the main road was backed up from a car accident and checked the news to see what was up, then telling me that it was the most insane wreck he’s ever seen. My morbid curiosity got the better of me. 

Right now I was watching the live feed of the wreck. It was a black Sedan flipped on its side, the entire front and side of the car looking as if it imploded with how indented and destroyed they were. It was the car that I had ordered for her since I was too busy to pick her up. Doing what? Nothing fucking important enough to risk her life over. I could barely hear the words coming out of the anchor’s mouth, seeing the plastic covered body with blood coated hair splayed out behind it, off to the left of the screen. 

“One dead, one left in critical condition,” were the only words my ears picked up. One dead. One was dead. And the dead body had her hair color. Or what you could see of it. 

I tried to calm myself down, telling myself that maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe I’ll get a call once Y/N reaches the hospital, being her emergency contact. But there was no way for me to look for myself. I couldn’t rush around hospitals calling her name. The world would see. People would take pictures of me in my worst moments. I just had to wait.

I didn’t even notice I was shaking until I finally forced my eyes back down towards my phone, which had turned off again while I was staring at the TV. I open it, immediately clicking on Matt’s contact and hitting call.

”What’s up?” He answered. I inhaled an overly shaky breath.

”That was Y/N’s uber…” I whispered into the receiver. 

“What was that? I think our connection’s bad.”

”That…that’s Y/N’s uber…” I choked out louder, a full sob leaving my throat, “She was on her way here and…and…Why didn’t I just go pick her up?”

There was a moment of silence, the only sound being my heavy breaths as I felt my chest tightening, before I heard shuffling around on the other end. 

“I’m texting Davis, Bryan, and Jesse to see if they can get to you. Unlock the door and don’t overthink.” I don’t respond, only nod, even though I know he can’t see it. 

I stay on the phone with him, my occasional terrified sobs and the sound of him typing on his phone filling the silence as I drag my feet to the front door and back. Once he notifies me that Davis is on his way, he just talks to me, trying his best to help me ease my thoughts, but it’s not helping. 

Sitting curled in on myself, sunken into the corner of the couch, all I can do is let my thoughts race until Davis finally walks in. He calls out to Matt that he’s here through my phone, and Matt hangs up the phone after telling me that he’ll try to find out what he can.

I don’t make eye contact with Davis, just staring at the floor as I imagine what her last moments may have felt like. He crouches down in front of me to try and get my attention, but I can’t stop picturing the horror that I saw on the TV. He does what he can, grabbing me a bottle of water and a snack while talking to me, but I don’t respond. I don’t move. I don’t breathe. I don’t even know if I’m still crying. I can’t feel a thing. I just hope we can find her. 

Noah

Matt calls Davis a few hours later, hoping he can soften the blow for me, to inform us that he’s called every hospital in the area for Y/N and every single one said that they don’t have a patient by that name. He even tried asking if anyone came in from a car accident today, but they told him that they couldn’t give them that kind of information. I immediately run to the bathroom when I’m told, expelling everything I’ve consumed today as pure fear and grief strike through my body. I’m gripping the bowl with shaky hands as Davis comes in after me and starts rubbing my back. 

“We’ve talked to the boys and everyone’s going to fly out the second they can. Jesse can’t get a chance to come home until morning, but I’ll be here all night.” 

I couldn’t respond with anything more than a sob. I appreciate them being here for me, even if we don’t know for sure if she’s gone, but all I want is her. I want her here, rubbing my back to soothe me. I don’t even want to have to be soothed at all. If I just fucking picked her up, we could be cuddling on the couch, watching Naruto together.

I fucking killed her. It’s all my fault. If I just made her more of a priority, she’d be here right now. She’d be safe and sound and none of this would’ve ever happened. 

I don’t even realize that a panic attack started until I feel Davis’ arms wrap around me right, trying to calm my nervous system. All I could do was sob into his shoulder, shaking more than I ever have before. I feel cold. My chest felt tight. My mind is consumed by grief and guilt. Even if we haven’t lost her, she’s out there somewhere, alone and in pain. And it’s all my fault.

Noah

It’s been four days. I stayed up the first two, just waiting by my phone to get that call that she was okay. That someone was able to identify her and that she was fine. But I think I’ve lost hope. 

Yesterday, I found her wallet here, instantly remembering her telling me that she couldn’t find it a few days before the accident, saying she may have dropped it outside of work or at my house. I told her I’d look. I didn’t look hard enough. I had her only piece of identification. All I could think about was her alone in a hospital room, losing her memory from the crash and unable to tell them her name. Or her cold body shoved into a morgue with a tag that just said “Jane Doe.”

Waking up another day without any new information about her was killing me. It was getting harder to tell myself she was okay. I know there were so many possibilities of what could’ve happened, but convincing myself that any of them were good was nearly impossible. 

The boys had managed to fly in yesterday, and while I appreciated their support, it was getting overwhelming. Everyone was constantly watching me, trying to soothe me when my thoughts became too much, but I just needed to let my emotions out. I needed a minute to myself. 

I slowly stood up from the couch, Matt, Jesse, and Folio’s eyes immediately following my every move. I don’t know what their deal was. I couldn’t even go to the bathroom without being watched like a hawk. They even started making meals for me and talking to me like I was some child. I was grieving, not on bedrest. 

“I’m gonna go for a walk. Need fresh air,” I rasp out, my voice scratchy from speaking in mostly sobs the last four days. Matt instantly stands up to join me, which makes me hold my hand out, “Alone. Please. Just let me have some space.”

He stares at me for a long moment before nodding and sitting back down. I go and grab my shoes and unlock the door. As I open it, I hear Jesse call out.

”Make sure you have your phone on you!” I pat my pockets, realizing I left it in my room after telling myself I needed to stop staring at it, waiting for news, and just leave anyway. It’ll help me clear my head not having them constantly texting me. 

The cold air seems to ease my nerves slightly, so I take deep breaths as I walk. I have no idea where I’m going, but I need to get out of that damn house. Not only are the five extra bodies in there, always hovering over me and watching everything I did, but I couldn’t even look at my bed, seeing her shadow lying in her spot. I couldn’t look in the kitchen, seeing her bright smile and hearing her giggle after I smeared whipped cream on her nose. The backyard where we swam together on hot summer days. Where she’d make everyone laugh when the group came over. 

I feel tears falling down my cheeks again, not knowing how the hell I had more to cry out. She was gone. There was no way in four days, they couldn’t recognize her. She had to be that Jane Doe. 

The quick sound of screeching tires in the distance pulls me out of my thoughts momentarily, only for it to send me even deeper. God, what were her last moments like? How scared was she? Was she in pain for long? Did she die on impact? Where was she now?

My thoughts continue to spiral as I continue to walk, now coming up on a place Y/N and I used to visit all the time when taking this path. It was a smallish creek in the middle of the forest. The water wasn’t too deep, but deep enough that we could stand on the bridge and watch all the tiny fish go by. 

I walk to the railing and try to watch the water pass by in the dark night, hoping that at least the sound could calm my racing thoughts. The bridge was about 10, maybe 12 feet high, so there wasn’t much to see when it was so late at night. But I could see so much. I could see Y/N standing beside me, staring over the edge with me. Her pointing out the groups of tadpoles or if a fish larger than normal swam by. I could hear myself talking her out of climbing down to catch a frog, knowing the steep incline on both sides of the creek was impossible to come back up from. 

I could see the picture I had on my phone that I took of her in this exact spot, the sunset glowing between the trees, giving her the aura of an angel right before my eyes…Angel. She was my fucking angel. She always has been and now she truly was. 

I’m staring at the darkness around me as the pain shoots through me once again. I fucking killed her. I ruined so many fucking lives, just by ordering her that goddamn uber. Her parents have called, tears equal to mine, and we couldn’t give them any information. Because we had none. She was gone. And I couldn’t even fucking say goodbye. 

There was only one way. Only one way to see her again. I stared into the rushing water. There was no way to see how deep it was tonight. No light to give a reflection back. The only thing my senses could pick up was the feeling of the wood railing, the sound of the water and her distant voice in my head. Specifically her laugh that I’ll never hear again. 

I pushed myself off the railing, eyes still stuck on complete darkness. I grabbed it, swiftly slinging one leg over, then the other. I could already feel that pit in my stomach as my body sensed that there was no resistance between me and the water below. I brought a foot under me, and then the other, lifting myself up before I was now standing on the wood. 

I almost wish I brought my phone with me, just to tell everyone one last goodbye. That I loved them more than anything. That I was sorry. But the person I was most sorry for is on the other side already. And she needed to hear it most. 

I feel the wind zip past me as my body sways on the edge. As I let memories play in my head, I let the wind take me.

But something about this didn’t feel right. The moment my feet lost ground and I felt gravity start to pull me down, I knew this was a mistake. Something…someone was telling me this wasn’t the choice I should have made. I do my best to wrap my arms around my head, but before I could do much, everything went black.

Y/N

My eyes feel like they’re glued shut and my throat is absolutely killing me. I clench my fists to try and stretch my tight muscles as I do my best to work my eyes open. Why is my room so cold? And smell so…chemically? 

I hear footsteps walking into the room at the same time more of my senses come back. I hear an odd beeping in the background, and when I finally get my eyes to take in everything in front of me, I come face to face with a bright white room and a shocked doctor. 

“You’re awake. How are you feeling?” He asks. I continue looking around the room, confused, before realizing his words. I spend a few seconds truly thinking how I felt, and that’s when all the pain rushes in.

”Like shit.” I croak out, my throat dryer than it ever has been before.

He comes over and starts asking me a bunch of questions, seeing what I remember and if my arms and legs are functioning well. That’s when I realize that my leg has a cast and I’m covered in bandages.

”Wha- What happened?” I cut him off.

”Well, you were in a pretty rough wreck about a week ago. Thankfully, you didn’t get too hurt, just a few broken bones, but you hit your head pretty hard and got a bad concussion, putting you in a coma.” I blink at him as I process everything. 

“I…how…did..has anyone come to check up on me?” I ask, the fact that I was completely alone in the room being the most important to me right now.

“You didn’t have any form of identification on you, so we were unable to contact anyone, but now that you’ve told us your name, we can go ahead and reach out to the people on your file.”

”Can you please? I really need to see my boyfriend and make sure he knows I’m okay.” He nods and makes his way out of my room. 

Matt

The boys and I were doing everything we could to make ourselves busy, not knowing how to handle everything. Nicholas and Folio were going through Noah’s things, picking out an outfit for his funeral, even though it’s most likely going to be a closed casket, and deciding on what we would send back to his family and what we wanted to keep for ourselves to remember him. We’ve all decided to leave his room how it was now for the time being, not wanting to mess with anything too much. 

I heard a phone ringing on the kitchen island and made my way to see who it was, before realizing it was Noah’s phone. My stomach immediately dropped. Everyone knew what happened…No one would be calling his phone right now…unless… 

I sprint to his phone, seeing that it was an unknown number and quickly answering. 

“Hello?” I rush out.

”Hello. Is this Noah Davis?” A female voice on the other end asks. 

“Uhh..He can’t come to the phone right now, but I can take a message?” I reply, trying to keep my voice stable. 

“Um, okay. Well, this is Dr. Moore at St Francis Medical Center, I’m calling regarding Y/N Y/L/N.”

”She’s alive?” I almost yell into the phone. 

“Yes, Sir. She just woke up from her coma and is asking for friends and family.”

I’m already rushing around the house, grabbing my shoes, keys, and wallet as I tell her that we will be on our way. The guys hear me sprinting around the house and come out to see what I was doing or if I’ve lost my mind again. 

“SHE’S ALIVE! Y/N’S ALIVE!” I yell out as I speed towards the front door. 

I hear them scrambling behind me, trying to get everything they need before they join me in the car. We’re all packed tight, but no one cares. I try my best to stay close to the speed limit, as getting pulled over is the last thing I could handle right now. We thankfully make it there in record time and all rush in through the doors and up to the desk. 

“We’re here to see Y/N Y/L/N,” I tell the lady at the front desk, almost out of breath. She looks unfazed by all of us rushing in and starts typing on her keyboard, searching for her room. 

“She is in room 213. Now, we only allow two family members at a time, but I’ll let you all go as long as you promise not to disturb anyone or cause her any discomfort.” We’re already nodding and rushing past her desk before she can even finish speaking.

Speed walking down the hallway, all of us are reading the room numbers, watching them rise until we finally see 213, with her doctor standing outside. 

“I do need to inform you all that she’s gotten a pretty severe concussion, so please be cautious around her,” He tells us. 

We all stand there and nod like we were being scolded before he finally waves his arm towards the door and we make our way in. Seeing her so hurt broke my heart, but at least she was alive. Folio was the first to rush to her side, already sobbing as he gave her a gentle hug. She softly laughs and hugs him back. 

“I promise I’m okay, guys. I’m sorry for giving you all a scare. They said I should be going home in a few days as long as everything’s alright with my head,” she says with a soft yet raspy voice. 

“We’ve just been so scared. It’s just…Fuck. This week has been hell,” I whisper as I walk towards her, patting the bed to make sure there was room to sit before taking her hand in mine, “We’re so glad you’re okay.”

She gives us all a sad smile, looking between all of us, before her face morphs into confusion. Fuck.

“Where’s Noah?” she asks. 

I stare at her for a few moments before looking at the rest of the boys. All of them just stared back, silently telling me that this was my burden to take. 

“What’s going on? Why won’t you answer? Where is he?” she continued. I sign and turn to her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Noah…He thought you passed, Honey. Your driver ended up looking a lot like you, and when we couldn’t find you, most of us assumed that it was you who died, not her.”

“Okay. But what does that have to do with him?” I take a deep breath, tears already pricking my eyes as I stared straight into hers. 

“Noah… took his life two days ago.” 

She stared at me dumbfounded, the words slowly processing in her mind one at a time, before her face shifted to horror. 

“H-he what?” I bring her hand to my face, pressing the back of it to my forehead as a sob shakes my body. 

“No. No. He can’t- He can’t be dead. He can’t.” She starts her own sobs, causing the other boys to come in closer, surrounding her bed as we all try to comfort her and each other.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Y/N

Once the hospital allowed me to leave, I make the boys drop me off at my apartment to take a real shower. They say they’ll be back soon, bringing me real food. Folio almost begged to stay with me, already not trusting to leave anyone alone after everything, but I promised all of them that I was okay and that I’ll see them soon. And thankfully it worked, because I really needed a moment alone to process all of this. 

I was numb. Between the pain medication and the grief, I couldn’t feel anything. His funeral was in a few days and I’ve barely been able to accept the fact that he’s gone. This all feels like a dream, the concussion not making any of it better. Before I let myself dive deep into the pits of grief and sorrow, I needed to find something to distract myself with.

The boys thankfully helped me get a new phone, as mine got crushed in the wreck, so I decided to work on setting that up. I take what remained of my old phone and remove the sim card, putting it in the new one. Once I finally get it set up, I’m absolutely bombarded with notifications. A few from my parents, a few texts and calls from the guys…and 30+ text messages from Noah. 

My heart breaks even more. He thought I was dead. He thought he’d never see me again. He ended his life feeling only guilt and regret. Then I see that I have a few voicemails… I press play with a shaky finger, and his sorrowful voice fills the room.

”Y/N…please be okay..Fuck. It’s all my fault…I should’ve just picked you up. I have no idea where you are. The girl on the road…that fucking girl had your hair. You can’t be gone. I need you…” All I can hear is him sobbing for a minute before he continues, “You should be home with me. If we find you and you’re okay, I’m fucking moving you in. I don’t care. I can’t do this. I can’t take not knowing where you are. If you’re even still here.”

The voicemail cuts off, so I play the next one.

”The guys are trying to give me hope, but it’s been two days with no news of you. The news said the girl who died was unrecognizable. Baby…Baby, please answer and tell me that wasn’t you. Please be in some hospital somewhere, waiting for me. Please…Please come back to me.”

And then the next one, sent early in the morning five days ago…The day he died.

“Baby, I’m losing hope. I can’t do this without you. It’s officially been four days of complete silence. I know I should wait longer, but every second without hearing your voice is fucking hell. Something inside of me is telling me that you’re still here, but it’s not enough to convince me,” he starts crying again, then continues with a shaky voice, “ I don’t know what I’ll do if you’re gone. My life is nothing without you. Please, baby,” Another sob, “Please wait for me…”

I can barely see my phone screen when that one finally ends, tears streaming down my face. That’s the last words I’ll hear him say to me. Please wait for me. The last text telling me to come home. And oh how fucking much I wanted to come home.

I needed home. I needed its warm hugs. I need the laughs it’d give me. The bright smile that was all my doing. The feel of its skin against mine. Noah was my home. I need him.

Powerful sobs shake my body, even worse than the ones when I found out. No pain medication could fix the pain I feel in my chest at this moment. I’ll never see my home again.

I leave the voicemail app and open photos, scrolling through the folder I had of every picture and video of him and I. I watched the videos first, needing to hear his happy voice again. The one who would tell me he loved me in utter swoon. His laugh and smile as he looked at me past the camera. The videos Bryan took of us looking like the perfect couple, unable to be more than a few feet apart from each other, if not constantly touching.

He was gone. That’s all my brain was saying, on repeat. He was gone. Noah was gone. I’ll never see him again. I won’t even be able to see him at the funeral, now knowing how he chose to pass.

And then a new phrase began repeating in my head. His debilitatingly sad voice telling me to wait for him. I glance up from my phone to the kitchen counter, the one that held the small pharmacy bag.

You won’t have to wait long, my love.

Connecting my phone to my speaker, I start blasting our song as I walk towards the counter.

As we wake up in your room

Your face is the first thing I see

The first time I’ve seen love

And the last I’ll ever need

I rip open the paper bag, pulling out the small rattling container and just staring at it.

You remind her that your future

Will be nothing without her

Never lose her, I’m afraid

Better think of something good to say

I move to sit down in the middle of the living room floor, still staring at the bottle in my hands. “Please wait for me.” I hear him in my head once more.

I open the bottle and pour out the contents into my hand. “Please come home.” I see flash across my vision.

Without another thought, I throw them back, swallowing dry. I lean back, lying on the wooden floor as the music plays around me, vibrating underneath me.

She was always the one

I’ll repeat it again, the one

No such thing as too young

I feel them hit my stomach like a brick. Or maybe that's the grief and pain finally numbing down to the feeling of a pit deep inside me.

I let the memories of us pass by like my life before my eyes. I’ll be home to him soon. I’ll get to see him again.

My vision starts to blur. Suddenly, I see him. I turn my head to face the corner of the room, and I see his bright welcoming smile. I want to tell him that I’ll be there soon, but it’s hard to move my lips. But he’s there. He can see me ready to come home. Just give it a few more moments and you won’t have to wait any longer.

Cause there’s faith in love

If you kiss me goodnight

I’ll know everything is alright

Second chances won’t leave us alone

Won’t leave us alone

Cause there’s faith in love

As the song comes to an end, I flex my hand the best I could to reach out towards him. I can almost feel his hug already. The warmth I feel when he smiles down at me. Just a few more moments and I’ll be with him.

But when my eyes finally shut, a small smile now stuck on my face. I could no longer hear his voice in my head. All I can feel is cold. All I can see is black. All I can sense is darkness.

He wasn’t here.

[alexxncl]

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 41 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons| season 2 | season 3 | lesson 40 | lesson 41.2 | lesson 42.1 | lesson 42.2

WE'RE HOME BITCHES

i missed my boys but i also feel bad for the nb!timeline boys bc they'll never see us again :( i miss them

HSHGDHDGD they're so stupid 😭 and ik they knew it was mammon's handwriting bc there's no way they didn't

:((((( i think i mentioned this in my lesson 40 breakdown but this is literally a physical manifestation of the login screen dialogue:

"my love for you transcends time"

if i was mc i'd be BAWLING y'all don't understand

this bg gives me war flashbacks to lesson 76 🫠 sad times man

PLEASE where did this come from 😭 everyone was all nostalgic and crying and shit and then he comes and pulls this outta his ass

NOT HE CALLED MAMMON A BROKE ASS BITCH (we been knew)

but on another note, how does he know the wallet is light if it's levitating ??? like does he feel the heaviness bc he's making it float or is he just bullshitting to piss mammon off 😭

giggling, kicking my feet, i missed her 🫶🏽 my wife, the loml

yk this would be a great time to have our affinity with her go up 😐 COUGH COUGH 😐 why isnt she dateable yet

isn't he canonically really good at math ??? like aside from just counting money

even tho it definitely comes from his greed

they're always downplaying his good qualities 🫠 hate it here /j

also side note, him getting assigned geography is a SET UP like 😭 we all know this man can't focus for the life of him. at LEAST give him math so he'd have a chance 💀

mc and mammon are ESPECIALLY cooked bc dia and barb decided to be tryhards and join every part of the competition

mc better than me bc i'd fight a bitch if he just up and left me after all the stuff that happened in the other timeline 😭 fym you're in the human world while i'm down here struggling

where did all of his development go ???? the whole season 3 arc where luke, mammon, and mc were on a train (?) together and luke learned to let go of his biases just got erased ig

Y'ALL WHAT IF HE BECOMES A DEMON

or what if it's michael messing with him even though he's fallen ??? the teaser has me paranoid idk

ANYWAYS overall 10/10 comeback lesson (i'm biased and i missed my boys 🫶🏽)

(i feel like the bonus story of the normal lesson needed its own post bc...😭)

[poured-my-past-down-the-drain]

you're welcome, birthday boy. A new accomplishment; living. And we love you a lot too!! I'll always love you more though.

I'll be waiting, okay? Ranboo and Michael too.

Anytime, birthday boy.

Happy birthday, Tommyinnt. <3

– Tubbo.

I love you all too 🥰🥰 very very much :) especially you, Tubbo <3 silly goat :)

I know 😊😊 I’ll probably come by sometime,, tomorrow night? Tonight? Idk, it’s midnight — you know what I mean. After things calm down for the day :)

Thank you, Tubbo Underscore ❤️❤️

[vilsoo]

prize counter girl ☆ ten

➥ michael afton x camgirl!reader

you've been a camgirl for only a few months and everyone loves the content you post. when michael afton porn surfs to relieve his stress, he comes across your videos. the more he jerks off to your content, the more he's addicted. but it wasn't until, a few months later, he sees your familiar face as the new employee working at the prize counter.

chapter warnings. sex work mentions, so much flirting

notes. we’re backkkk 😋😏😫😍‼️ i hope y’all enjoy this adorable, lovely chapter that i KNOW yall have been dying for. here’s some yummy food @ihrtlert

pcg materlist • previous • chapter eleven

As much as you wanted to keep making out with Michael in the dimly lit hallways of the pizzaplex and escalate things further, he had a few things to do before locking up the place. First things first, cleaning up the supply closet and then finish organizing the boxes of new prizes and supplies for the arcade. It was his fault for getting himself distracted like this, staying much longer than he was supposed to that you decided to offer some help.

But that didn't mean the end of your night together.

"So. What made you wanna stay during closing tonight, hm?" he teased as he was closing the closet door. "And where were you hiding this whole time, anyway?"

You were leaning against the checker-patterned wall as you fixate on him, smirking in a subtle snarky manner. "Upstairs where the bar and lounge are at. I wanted to check out for myself what was upstairs and then... that's when I found you.

"Oh? Roaming around where you're not supposed to, I see..." Michael mirrored your smirk, dipping his head lower and inhaling your sweet scent that drives him insane. Just like before, the gap between you two is now inevitably thin, feeling his body heat transmitting onto your chest as you arched your back against the wall.

"Aw, am I in trouble?" you bantered, settling your gaze on him with the right kind of heat and ardor pooling in your flaunting eyes. It was the same look you gave him in the break room today. The same look when you cleaned his cum off his cock. Your fucking "fuck me" eyes. The look you give him as if you're undressing him without even touching him that drives every fiber of his being to just... ravage you.

"We'll both be in trouble if you keep fucking looking at me like that," he murmured in your ear with his tone falling sharper and stricter, a shiver coursing down your spine. He was frustrated. A little enraged, even. And that turned you the fuck on that even Michael could tell.

In such close proximity and prolonged silence, you gaze intensely into each other's eyes one last time, surrendering to this imbalance of power and unfair seduction, that he immediately had to pull away before he got carried away again. In just a fleeting moment, the both of you snapped back into reality.

"I— I, uh, have to lock up," he sputters. "You can go through the regular exit to the back parking lot since there's no cameras. I'll go through the main exit where I parked."

You sighed deeply as if your heart sank, pushing yourself off the wall with your gaze attached on the floor. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Michael...."

"You too," he beams, slightly agitated, but involuntarily raising his arms out as a gesture for a hug. He wanted to feel the warmth of your body melting onto him one last time, an inhale of your scent to linger in his nose, to at least hold you as if he wanted to protect you. His heart then palpitated when you wrap your arms around his neck and laid the side of your head on his chest, your lips stretching to a smile at how fast his heart was beating.

Michael never wanted to let go.

This embrace felt like the longest he's ever hugged a woman. But after glancing at the clock on the wall and noticing it was almost 12AM, you had to separate. He was here closing the pizzaplex for an hour, way past the time he was supposed to leave. But for some reason tonight, he wasn't feeling all sleepy or tired from work. As if he felt that same rush of energy he got from kissing you last night...

When you already left to the parking lot with your stuff, Michael was lingering in his thoughts. An ongoing battle in his mind, his leg bouncing up and down from this sudden burst of energy as he sat alone in his car. Thinking of you. Thinking of the confession. Every thought of his was consumed by you, and only you, like a triggered springlock clawing into the depths of flesh and bones, unable to escape.

Tomorrow is another day with her. Just ask her out in the morning.

A nice, innocent date where she can dress up and look pretty while I treat her and spoil her.

But tomorrow is too long from now, man.

I'd rather lose hours of sleep than lose a simple last minute date night with her I've been wanting for so long.

He was the only car parked in this lot while yours was on the south side of the building where all the employees are supposed to park. Throwing away his inhibitions like he always does, he speeds around to the corner of your designated parking spot, hoping that you didn't leave yet. To Michael's luck, you were still there turning your engine on.

Your heart fluttered when you suddenly see his car in your peripheral vision pull up beside you on your left, facing the opposite direction so he could be closer to you in the driver's seat. His window was already down with his elbow resting on its ledge, an exhilarated smile on his face as if he just couldn't wait to see you again.

You couldn't help but laugh as you rolled down your window, shaking your head. "I knew you were gonna come around."

"Well, you said it yourself. I enjoy your company as much as you enjoy mine," he teases, his heart still thundering in his chest in agitation even after he motivated himself just awhile ago.

"Shouldn't you be catching up with your hours on sleep? I know I made you stay a little late..."

"You don't have to worry about me. I've actually been sleeping pretty good recently," he smiles, dismissing the fact that you really were at fault for his lack of sleep the past couple of months— but he allowed it.

"That's good to hear," you bantered. "Did you drive all the way here to be my passenger prince again?"

Michael chortled, finding his laughter and the way his eyes crinkle adorable to you. He then inhaled sharply with his teeth clenched, mentally preparing himself and ruminated on his thoughts before speaking.

"Ah, well... After what just happened back there, I— I didn't want our sudden late night together to end just like that..."

"Oh? Is my manager... asking me out on a Sunday night?"

“Not your manager," he corrected. "Your biggest fan."

When you drift your gaze onto Michael, a warm, bonny sensation dissolves onto his skin from the way your eyes glimmered at him. A surging tide of ardor and infatuation blossoming in your stomach— this man would never fail to surprise you, to be the cause of your body surrendering to the charming side of his personality. He could tell you were robbed of speech and so was he— but then again, time was limited.

"And yeah— I know it's really last minute," he continues with a slight stammer, "believe me, if I had the time to take you out, I would've planned ahead. You know, so you can have enough time to dress up and get ready and not have to show up in your daily attire or even your work uniform—"

"Michael, it's fine. I would love to go out with you," you reassured to him sweetly. The way he rambled, the way you can tell he's still nervous and stumbling over his words urged you to just shut him up with another kiss. Good thing he wasn't your passenger prince for tonight or you might've recreated what happened last night... perhaps escalate things more than just a heated, intense make-out session.

Michael blinked rapidly like he just had a double-take. "Oh. Then, uh... you'll just have to follow me and we'll meet there."

"Do you know where we're going?" you asked, grabbing the clutch of your stick shift from park position to drive.

"It's only, like, fifteen minutes from here. Definitely a nice, relaxing getaway place from work. I think you'd love it."

You never thought that you'd experience these kind of late nights with Michael; stargazing together, admiring the stunning cityscape, and indulging in the nightly, tranquil ambiance of this perfect night. There was a place in downtown that he knew, a secluded hilltop that shows the breathtaking view of the twinkling city and midnight sky. As you sat on the hood of his car and relaxed under the stars, it was also a perfect time to ruminate on life and have more than just "small talk" outside of work.

"...To be honest, sex work has always been physically and mentally exhausting," you confided to him. "I don't even know why girls who just turned 18 all of a sudden wanna be in the porn industry. There's so many fucked up people online that can exploit these young and impressionable girls— believe me, I've seen everything in less than 5 months I started. There's a dark side to this industry that's never talked about or even forewarned before you do sex work."

Michael had his arm around you, rubbing your shoulder in comfort. "I always thought that shit was weird... It's always social media that pressures those young girls to do sex work for 'empowerment' when in reality... it'll just destroy them, right?"

"Yeah. That's why I never take sex work too seriously and didn't want this to be my career. I mean, yeah there will be times when I do it for fun and earn good money from my viewers, but... that's only the glamorized part of it all. In the end, sex workers shouldn't be demonized, but the industry shouldn't be glorified, either. I will always support women who do this because of their financial situation, as long as they're cautious and understand their reality."

"You're absolutely right," he says. "I'll always be supporting you too, you know. It's just— I still can't get my head wrapped around the fact that we actually work together. My first time seeing you, I literally didn't know how to function. I was just like... holy shit."

The two of you chuckled as your mind replayed the way Michael seized up after seeing you for the first time that day. "I've never seen a man fold like that ever," you teased. "You were so awkward in real life compared to when we chatted online. That's why I had my doubts, but— it was kinda hot seeing you all shy and nervous around me."

I won't be the one shy and nervous next time...

Michael scoffs, grinning down at the ground. "I mean, could you blame me? I didn't expect the camgirl I masturbate to working here with me."

"Oh my god, shutup," you bantered, lightly tapping him with your knuckles.

Michael couldn't believe that after so much time had passed until a few days ago when he fist met you, you were starting to be comfortable with each other. Aside from just flirting and intense sexual tension, there was something else existing between you two that just felt... surreal.

This beautiful balance of having flirty banter, sarcasm, and humor that would go to being sweet and genuine with each other, and then being able to empathize together, opening up to each other about serious things in life... This kind of connection for him was not only what he's been craving, but what he cherishes, something so special that he would never want to lose.

"...What's your schedule looking like the next couple weeks?" Michael asks, slanting his head closer to yours just to take in your scent again.

"Hm. I think I might be off next Friday..."

“Oh really? I'm also off that Friday too," he replied sardonically, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"What about your dad?" you piqued. "Do you think he's gonna get suspicious of us at work?"

Michael's hummed, slightly perturbed as he thought about the times where his dad pestered him just from seeing you two together. "It's kinda hard to tell, you know? Him suspecting his employees having something going on is the least of his priorities. Like, he won't be watching us all the time, especially on the cameras. But if we make things way too obvious... he's not that dumb. We'll definitely get in trouble."

"I get it. I think it's best to keep our distance just in case," you suggested, settling your gaze onto his face as you leaned on his shoulder. There goes that look again, beguiling him wholeheartedly. Your riveting, doe eyes with the moonshine reflecting off the lens has never looked so beautiful. But whether this was intentional or not, he can sense that you love making him feel this way.

She is the only one that does this to me.

She drives me crazy. She makes me act out of control until I'm not longer myself.

And she takes sick fucking pleasure while doing it.

She knows what she does to me.

"You and I both know that's fucking impossible," he coaxed, turning himself to stand in front of you while caressing your waist. "I can't stand not being around you. Talking to you on break or even after work isn't enough for me."

You find yourself leaning against the hood of Michael's Audi as he inches closer. Your breath nearly faltered from the way his fingertips glides against your skin, drizzling you with goosebumps. A sweet sensation interwoven, burning every molecule of desire in your bodies. He's been aching to caress you, to hold you safe in his arms, to touch you in places that sends you right over the edge... Nothing could help the fact that the both of you were touch-starved deep down.

"The supply closet and a few other places downstairs," he mutters into your ear, "there's no cameras. I know you love showing off in front of cameras, but... a private show wouldn't hurt, hm? That is— of course, whenever you're down for it. Not like I'm gonna randomly snatch you and then we have a quickie. That's insane."

You bursted out laughing from his sudden tone shift, him being all flirty and then back to his sarcastic self. "You're funny, Michael."

"Well, in all seriousness... That Friday I'll also be requesting time off. We'll have the whole day to ourselves— and I'll definitely have a perfect first date planned for us."

Your arms slither around his neck, lips just mere inches away from his as both of your hearts pound in excitement. "I can't wait," you murmured fondly.

Michael presses his lips against yours, melting onto each other passionately right under the pale moonlight. This beautiful feeling, this beautiful sense, this basking of pleasure knowing that he's all yours— not only admitting his dirty little secrets and the lustful pining had brought you two closer than ever, but also the intimate, ardent feelings you both had for each other was mutual.

Now that he can be himself without acting so painfully awkward around you, so much burden had finally lifted off his shoulders. No more secrets, nothing else to hide from each other anymore. But there were still a few more problems the both of you had to inevitably face at work— one of them being William Afton if he ever suspected that his employees are officially dating each other.

Fuck the fraternization policy.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐎 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access.

[mangora]

Don’t feel like doing my Religion 203 homework, SCIKE HEADCANONS ‼️

•Mike calls Scott “Scottie” and Scott calls Mike “Michael”. It pisses both of them off

•Everything becomes a competition with them. Scott challenges Mike first and Mike pretends that he’s above it but then spends the rest of the day obsessively trying to beat Scott at whatever-the-fuck while refusing to admit that that’s what he’s doing

•They love to trash talk each other, Scott always comes up to Mike before a challenge to tell him how he’s going to kick his ass and Mike always points out that Scott’s team loses every challenge and they go back-and-forth until someone forces them to stop

•They’re both really touchy-feely without realizing it. Scott grabs Mike’s arm/shoulder and leans on him and nudges him, and Mike loves to get as close as possible when he talks to Scott and lightly kick him and he’ll even run a finger along his jaw or boop his nose if he’s feeling particularly sprung

•They both have terrible insomnia and see each other on night walks often

•Mike has frequent headaches and as much of an asshole as Scott is, he knows how to recognize them and will lower his voice or leave him alone if he notices Mike having one. Sometimes he’ll even quietly pass him coffee or a cigarette

•Scott’s stolen shirts from Mike before— never to wear, just to have

•Mike wears eyeliner sometimes and Scott hardcore makes fun of him for it but actually really likes how it looks

•They both get annoyed incredibly easily, Mike’s just usually better at repressing it

•I have a lot of ideas how they realize their feelings for one another— or never realize them, and simply feel them without doing much about them— but one that I particularly like is the idea of them realizing at the exact same time and knowing that the other knows but not really having the guts to do anything about it because they hate each other and also it’s like 2008

•They both like classic rock, metal, punk, and alternative hip hop. Sometimes they listen to music together and Mike gets really uppity about it and Scott thinks it’s funny

•They watch horror movies together and Scott insists that he’s not scared but he always is. Mike’s surprisingly immune to horror films and likes seeing Scott get psyched out over them

•They’ve had to share beds a few times (in my head, where ROTI is like 26 episodes and they get stuck together a lot), and they always start out with their backs to each other as far apart as possible, but wake up holding each other and pretending to be asleep so they don’t have to stop

•Sometimes after the team swap with Jo and Scott, the Maggots will succeed, and the two of them will momentarily forget they hate each other and want each other to lose, and they’ll high five or hug or something, and then realize what they’re doing and break apart

•They’re both able to pick each other up, and will do so to tick each other off

•Scott runs hot and Mike runs cold, which makes them perfect to hold one another, but they usually refuse to do so because Doomed Yaoi

•I feel like almost everyone is vaguely aware that they have something like…Weird and vaguely romantic between them, but no one can figure out what to call it or if they should say something

•They’re both really observant people and will offhandedly make extremely specific comments about one another that no one else really understands. Like Mike will mention how Scott snorts when he laughs, Scott will talk about how Mike cracks his knuckles when he’s nervous, Mike will tell everyone how Scott has freckles on the backs of his hands and the small of his back, Scott will remark that Mike whistles when he breathes, Mike will bring up Scott’s farmer’s tan, Scott will dog on Mike for having such frilly cursive handwriting, etc.

•Mike can speak some Italian, and sometimes when he’s having a hard time processing his feelings for Scott he’ll write or talk out loud to himself about him in Italian. Cameron’s caught some of what he’s said just by virtue of knowing enough Latin roots

•Mike makes and wears a lot of different necklaces, and Scott always notices which one he’s wearing. Mike makes Fang’s tooth into a necklace for Scott, not because he likes him but just to keep himself busy

•Speaking of, both of them have ADHD and need to constantly be moving or doing something in order to focus. Sometimes mouthing off to each other or wrestling helps them sort of ground themselves, and it’s kind of understood at times that it’s not an aggressive act but rather a mutual sort of comfort ritual

•I like to think at some point, maybe before Scott blackmailing Mike or at some point during All Stars when they’re left alone for a while, they have some sort of genuine tender moment. Like just one moment where they’re alone and kiss and cuddle with each other without any real intensity or smugness behind it, and they’re both terrified and feel horribly ashamed of it but also never say anything about it because they don’y want it to end, and if they don’t talk about it then it doesn’t even count, does it? And after it happens they go back to normal but also they don’t, they pine for each other so badly that it hurts, no one understands how to show them proper affection besides each other. Or whatever yk

•Mike and Scott both have a pretty dark sense of humor and make each other laugh more than either will admit

•Sometimes they compliment each other to “throw the other one off”, but it’s really just because they both admire each other in certain ways, and also because neither knows how to really accept praise. Like they will both get really flustered and try to hide it, and then ruminate on it for the whole night afterwards

[zabala0z]

I got 2 friends into TMA and I’m slowly finding my reason for existence. Anyways hi, welcome back to “hearing a random persons thoughts on TMA S4” I’m your host, that random person!!

MAG 146: Threshold

I love it when TMA brings statements that have a different perspective on a situation or have a callback to something like 120 episodes ago (aka MAG 27)

Also is it just me, or is Helen’s laugh starting to sound more like Michael’s?

MAG 147: Weaver

Jesus Christ, hill top road is just cursed. Literally avoid it. Forever. Annabelle’s statement was chilling. Girls breaking the fourth wall and I support it!

“Can I call you Jon?” WHY does everyone say that, just fucking call him Jon. I guess it’s because his official title is “Archivist” by like everyone but still. Oliver Banks said it earlier. Nikola said it but towards Elias instead but still. It’s kinda funny that Jon seems to be the center of The Web in some way considering his childhood trauma with Mr. Spider and all that.

MAG 148: Extended Surveillance

YEAH BASIRA BEAT HIS ASS. Also is it just me or did he sound a lot more panicky? Like he usually sounds calm and collected but when Basira was beating the shit out of him, he actually sounded a bit different. Also, he calls her detective like other people call Jon archivist which may be important, I don’t know. Is she an avatar of The Eye? Is everyone who works at the institute an avatar of the eye or is it just Jon and Elias?

Jon’s mini monologue at the end got me rethinking my perspective on him and all the avatars like Jesus Christ.

MAG 149: Concrete Jungle

Brazil mention ‼️‼️ anyways, my first thought was The Stranger because y’know, vaguely human like things appearing as human but not human. Y’know? But yeah, The Extinction could also be it. I want to know more on Adelard Dekker. Was he an avatar?? is it The Web because he did use the table back then to trap one of the Notthem.

Also Georgie!!! Yay!!! I haven’t brought this up yet but it’s been floating around my mind: Georgie cannot feel fear. Like she can’t feel it. And there’s entities that feed primarily off fear. So. Is she gonna do some important shit? She has to

ALSO THE STATIC NOISE AND MARTIN DISAPPEARING I HATE THIS STOP. KILL ME.

Okay that’s everything! I feel so useless when ever I can’t connect anything but I guess I’m on episode 149 and we’ve already explained most of the major plot points throughout the podcast (keyword: most) so what’s left to connect? Still pisses me off. I want something to dig my hands in.

If there’s something I’m missing, gimme a hint so I can comb through transcripts like the good ol days

[diazsdimples]

(alaska anon) so what is tommy up to in alaska? it seems very fitting that he went there to run away have a fresh start because ngl 85% of the people I know up here (me included) have moved up to alaska for the same reasons LMAO. I'm also very excited about the au because tommy's in sitka and I'm from the sitka/juneau/ketchikan area so I get a little ‼️ every time my home area is mentioned <3 who's on his team with him? also is there a site (legal or otherwise) where I could find coast guard alaska I'm really curious about it

Tommy is now working for the coastguard! After some dubious Google results I decided that was definitely something he could do, with his militarytraining and work for the LAFF, and gives him the perfect excuse to be as far from LA as possible.

I can only apologize how geographically incorrect it'll be cause I'm going off Google maps/ Earth and vibes alone 😅

He's got 4 people on his team - his co-pilot Higgs, and then 3 rescue swimmers called Barton, McKinley, and Michaels. He hasn't known them very long but they've become like a family to him. There's also the ground staff and other flight crews.

I watched it all on YouTube! Hopefully it's still there but it's so interesting!