#it's summer break which means i get to draw these two bitches all day again

[shigaeru]

what is this?? affection???? gross. do it again

[emotionallyits2009]

deancas fic rec list!

hello everyone! happy christmas to those who celebrate it, my gift to you is my fic rec list that i said i would make like a month ago. the only thing it is organized by is canonverse vs alternate universe. tried to cover a variety of subjects but there are in particular many fics of the genre “postcanon where cas is human and he and dean live together and slowly finally get their shit together” because i know what i’m about, son. HOPE U ENJOY. and if you wanna talk about any of them or rec me other fics please do. :) 

Canonverse:

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo, 30k, explicit “Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.” There are many fics set in a post-canon universe where Cas is human and he and Dean live together and slowly fall into a relationship. Imo this one is the best of the best of that genre. This was one of the first fics I read back in July when I was getting Back Into Supernatural where I was like oh fuck I’m like in this. Dean builds Cas planters and bookshelves and a chicken coop and they fight and work through it.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits, 10k, explicit For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental. It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless. Really Gets the dynamic of Cas doesn’t think Dean wants him to stay/Dean thinks Cas will leave the first chance he gets. Also a nice example of Cas thinking he’s not wanted if he’s not useful/powerful and being told otherwise. Another all-time fave!

lonely hearts by outphastthemoat, 4.5k, gen He thinks he might give up having his own anything just to be able to step foot inside the room next door and sit on the edge of Dean’s bed instead. This one is for the CAS GIRLS who know what LONELINESS feels like.

Helionneiros by aeli_kindara, 24.2k, mature In which Dean visits his mother, and Claire takes Cas on a hunt. I’m always on the lookout for more fic with Claire and Jack. Jack doesn’t show up until the end here but the relationship between Cas and Claire is really nice.

Crawl by aeriallon, 11k, explicit It’s been almost four years since Castiel left Kansas; he'd eventually settled in an island town where he has a job, a house, and a life without the Winchesters. Every winter, Dean drives down to the coast to see him. Another fic where Cas is human but in this one he took some time for himself and got some distance from the Winchesters! He gets to be competent and weird as a human and we love that for him. I must warn you all that this fic contains one use of the phrase “making love” which would normally put me right off but it’s still worth reading. The first of a three-part series.

home where you hold me by microcomets, 1.6k, gen Cas and Dean, in the moments between their battles, ache for quiet spaces. Technically this is a coda to 10x20 but you don’t need the episode for context. Short and very sweet.

Build a Home by domesticadventures, 20.1k, teen After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them. He doesn’t. This one is so cute it’s like what if once they were done saving the world Sam and Dean actually invited other hunters to move into the bunker with them. Obviously Dean wants that to include Cas but doesn’t know how to use his words.

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo, 22.4k, explicit This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore. Angst fic! They go on a road trip and Dean is severely fucked up post-Mark of Cain.

Unknown Quantities by xylodemon, 8.6k, explicit No one ever tells Dean anything. Another nice getting-together fic.

Creature of Habit by trinityofone, 5.2k, teen The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well. This one is ancient by destiel standards (written during season 5) but it manages to nail the married couple vibes they give off in later seasons. Cas is a bitch and Dean likes him so much. <3

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by Tuesday, 11.2k, mature Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this. Another old one that is a lot of fun! They get Accidental Angel Married and if you don’t enjoy dumb fanfiction tropes like that I don’t know what to say to you.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi, 4k, teen In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything. The OTHER accidental angel marriage fic written in 2010. 

Crazy Diamonds by pantheon_of_discord, 24.8k, explicit A week ago, Dean was pulled out of Hell. Now, he’s apparently woken up in 2018, and the angel that a mere twenty-four hours beforehand had threatened to chuck him back into the pit is sleepily pouring himself coffee and wearing Dean’s second-favourite Zeppelin shirt. It all seems like a perfect happy ending, but with Hell’s scars still so fresh, Dean can’t imagine how he could have possibly gotten there. At the same time, the Dean who went to sleep in the bunker, right next to Cas, wakes up on Bobby’s couch in 2008. He’s instantly bombarded with questions by a Lilith-obsessed brother and a man who’s been dead for years, and must decide between keeping his finally-perfect life intact, and the lives he could save by re-writing history. Regardless of these choices, both Deans are trapped in the wrong decade, and their only way back lies with a Castiel still very much under Heaven’s thumb – one who might find the future Dean describes difficult to believe. Time travel is FUN. There’s an excellent part where (minor spoilers) future!Dean is like, “Guess what, asshole? You like me so much you marry me!!!!!!!!!!!” to 2008!Castiel that made me laugh out loud the first time I read it. Also just a good reminder of how most problems in life are temporary and if you could go back in time to talk to your younger self you’d be like, “Hey man. Chill out. You get through it.”

The Path of Fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, mature After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years. There’s a lot of amnesia fic and djinn fic out there were Dean wakes up ~suddenly together with Cas~ but I like this one in particular because he’s initially very confused and kind of a dick about it until he acknowledges that being with Cas makes him happy.

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden, 95k, explicit Three months ago, when Dean decided to retire, he thought his life was going to end up differently. He'd thought that he might get to have it all, Sam, Cas, Jack, and nice little place to live. Instead he gets Sam and Jack off on their Summer of Love Tour, radio silence from Cas, and a never-ending road trip consisting of himself. Still reeling from the loss of his grace, Castiel travels the country in search of hunts. Driven by a need to prove his usefulness, he pushes himself beyond all limits of endurance. Together, with the help of a few friends, a crumbling Victorian house, and a stray cat, Dean and Castiel patch themselves back together and create a home together. Do you wanna read almost one hundred thousand words of Dean and Cas having extremely intense feelings but refusing to voice them aloud? Haha of course you do that’s why you’re here. There’s also a lot about Cas adjusting to being human and being depressed about it which might resonate if you’ve ever felt weird about having a body. To be honest the author could stand to use a few more commas but there were also half a dozen moments that made me put my phone down and drag my hand slowly over my face and whisper “oh my god” to myself which is like, the ultimate measure of a good fanfiction so it gets to be on the list.

like moses and batman and james dean by saltyfeathers, 31.6k, explicit dean used to turn tricks. over a decade later, he met cas. Have you seen the fanon (apparently pioneered by Mr. Jackles “Original Deankin” Ackles himself) that Dean used to prostitute himself to feed himself and Sam when they were younger? Are you interested in exploring that concept in fanfiction? Well, this is the only fic you need. Mind the tags on this one! It’s not what I’d call happy but it’s good.

Some Assembly Required by narrow_staircases, 47k, mature It’s September of 2005, and Dean Winchester, in an attempt to outrun old mistakes and painful memories, finds himself in southern Kentucky on a wild goose chase. He’s completely certain this weird religious movement he’s “investigating” is a hoax, despite the miraculous healings people report, and he’ll be back on the road in a day or two. Things are looking up when he meets Cas, an awkward (and gorgeous) graduate student who’s actually doing honest-to-god research into the local tent revival meetings. When that research takes a weird and personal turn, Dean’s left to face two very serious realities: one, this may be a real case after all, and two, he’s fallen way harder for Cas than he should ever have let himself. Stanford-era AU of Dean trying to avoid his father and getting in over his head on a case.

Alternate universe:

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets, 57k, mature Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen. Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The  professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen. Mundane AUs in this fandom have to be really, really good to catch my attention and this one is! It’s exactly what it says in the summary and the characterization is spot-on. 

Out to Drift by deathbanjo, 20.9k, mature Dean drives a black car with a loud engine. He lies too easily. He keeps a gun in the back of his jeans, and Castiel isn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean has killed someone before. Two people in fucked-up unstable situations meeting and forming a connection. Honestly guys I really just love deathbanjo.

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love- Chapter 4

So I planned for this chapter and the next to originally be one but as I started writing it, the words kept flowing and oops....now its really long. So I decided to split it. This means that I’m pretty much done with the next chapter so I’ll be able to get it out in a few days! Yay!

Also, Ivar is pretty manipulative in this chapter. Someone made a comment in the last chapter that I want to acknowledge. Going forward this is kind of a theme but I just want to put that warning statement- if this is triggering for you, please read with caution. There is nothing explicit or graphic but its still manipulation. 

Words:4000

Warnings: swearing, manipulation

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​

Series Masterlist

Sitting in the office at work, Kari sipped on her smoothie as she plugged in numbers for an inventory order. She had just finished teaching one of her morning classes and was now doing some paperwork for Lydia while on her "lunch break". 

 She jumped when her phone suddenly buzzed- a text alert. Surprised and curious as to who would be texting her at this time, she unlocked her phone to see the text from an unknown number. 

 Unknown: hey u busy 2nite?

 Kari: who is this?

 Unknown: u fav person

 Kari: OMG! Ed Sheeran?!

 She giggled quietly to herself, returning back to the laptop screen. Normally she ignored any calls or texts from unknown numbers, but it had been a good morning and she was feeling playful. When there was no return text, she shrugged the conversation off and returned to the order. Apparently, the unknown number did not get the reaction they were hoping for or realized they text the wrong person. Either way, she did not care. 

 A couple minutes later, her phone started to vibrate repeatedly. Looking down, she saw she was getting a call from the unknown number. She hesitated to answer, but by the third ring her curiosity got the better of her and she answered it. 

 "Hello?"

 "FUCKING ED SHEERAN? REALLY?"

 She sat there stunned. "Ivar?"

 "Of course, it's me. Who the fuck were you expecting?" He asked, angrily. 

 "How did you get my number?"

 He ignored her question, his voice suddenly sounding muffled. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be a second…. damn it. I know!"

 "Who is that?" 

 "My brother.” He scoffed, muttering something unintelligible under his breath, before speaking to her again. “I have to head back into a meeting now."

 "Oh, ok?"

 "You didn't answer my question."

 Her mind was still reeling from the fact that Ivar Lothbrok had her number and was calling her out of the blue. "What question?"

 He huffed, exasperation evident in his tone. "Are you busy tonight?"

 "Why?"

 "I want to take you out."

 "Ivar," she sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead, "I told you, I can't."

 "Yeah and I don't believe you, so…."

 "No. I'm sorry but the answer is still no."

 "Fine. I have to go." He snapped then abruptly ended the call.  

 Slowly, she pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. What just happened? Before she forgot, she added his number to her contacts since she had the distinct feeling this would not be the last time he contacted her. Once done, she set her phone down and dropped her head into her hands. 

 It had been two days since he drove her home and she said they could be friends. In those two days, this was the first contact they had. She had hoped he grew bored with her since she was not playing his game, that she refused to go out with him. Maybe he finally decided she was not worth his time and moved on? Which was for the best. She could never fit into his world, there was no space for her there. Nor did she want to. She was happy, content with her life. 

 It was better for her to not allow Ivar into her life. That's what she repeated to herself as she tried to focus on the inventory order. 

 *****

 "Just put the bags right there, thank you." Kari said, placing the grocery bags, one in each hand, onto the tiled floor. The kitchen in her townhouse was small, two people could barely move around in it without bumping into one another. Thankfully, she did not spend much time in the kitchen. Cooking had never been her forte. 

 "Do you need anything else? I don't mind staying to help." The dirty-blond haired man asked, setting the two bags he carried down onto the floor. He started to shuffle forward but seemed to think better of it and leaned against the half-wall separating the kitchen from the short hallway. 

 "Erik, it's fine. If anything, I owe you. You never let me pay for gas money."

 He shrugged, and tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "It's not a big deal. I needed to shop too."

 "Still, it's not fair to you." She turned around from placing the milk in the fridge to look at him. 

 "If I think of something you can do to repay me, I'll let you know. Deal?"

 "Perfect."

 "Do you still want a ride to work tomorrow?"

 She shut the door and jokingly waved a hand at him. "See! You're too nice."

 "I'd be ‘too nice’ if I also showed up with coffee for you."

 She laughed, moving some frozen fruit into the freezer. "You're too perfect to not have a girlfriend." 

 He rubbed the back of his neck, a flush growing on his cheeks and drawing out a boyish smile. "I don't know if I'd say that. I'll let you get to it. I'll meet you outside at nine?"

 "Thank you, Erik."

 "Of course." He popped his head around the wall to look into the living room. "See you, Alana!"

 "Bye, Erik!" The response came from the living room. 

 Kari continued to put her groceries away as she heard the front door click shut behind him. Somehow, she needed to figure out a way to pay him back. 

 Erik lived in the townhouse next door alone. When he learned that Kari did not own a car, he offered to give her rides whenever it worked out for both of their schedules. At first, she had been hesitant, still not having lived in the townhouse for long but eventually gave in because he always acted like such a gentleman. Every time he saw her, he made sure to greet her and ask about her day. He always held the door open for her and anybody else close by. A negative word never passed his lips, rather choosing to focus on the positive in life. A routine soon started to form and every two weeks they would meet up outside of their townhouses and go grocery shopping together. When she did not have to work early, he would occasionally give her rides to work since the bank he worked at was only a couple blocks away. That was the extent of their interactions though. She wondered about inviting him over for dinner as to thank him but she always chickened out in asking him. Perhaps that was what she needed to do after all.  

 Once all her groceries were put away, she headed into the living room, seeing her roommate and friend sitting on the couch with the TV on to the Great British Bake-off but looking down at her phone. 

 The brunette asked, dropping onto the second couch. "How was work?"

 "Good. You?" Alana looked up, her make-up flawless like usual on her delicate features. 

 "Nothing too exciting."

 "You know, if you'd waited two hours I could have taken you to the store."

 Kari nodded, fiddling with her diamond stud earring. "I know, but you're so busy with work and school. I know you like relaxing when you come home and Erik said he was free today."

 "Did he now?" Alana asked with a smug look.

 Kari tossed a throw pillow at her. "Don't start this again."

 The blonde caught the pillow, still grinning like the Cheshire cat. "You know he likes you. He's just too shy to ask you out."

 "He's a friend, it's been like seven months, I think if he was going to ask me out, he would have done it by now."

 "He. Is. Shy." Alana enunciated, as if talking to a child. She rolled her blue eyes, leaning back against the couch. "Shit, he only started to actually talk to me this summer."

 "Cause you are intimidating."

 Alana threw the pillow back at Kari. "Bitch, it's cause I radiate sexiness and he can't handle it."

 "That is most definitely it." 

 "Well the guy I hooked up with last weekend said I radiated sexiness."

 Kari wrinkled her nose, looking over at her roommate. "I don't want to hear that. It's bad enough when you bring them here."

 "You know, it wouldn't be the worst thing for you to actually go out with Erik. He's…. sweet." She quietly stated, eyes back on the TV. 

 "Yeah."

 "I'm fairly sure he'd treat you better than that fucker of ex."

 Kari picked invisible lint off her black leggings, apprehensive about where the topic was going. Her love life, and lack of it, was something Alana liked to remind her of frequently as of late. "Honestly, I'm even sure anymore he should count as an ex."

 "Well you were supposed to be exclusive, right? And then you find out he's been fucking other girls the whole time. That counts as a shitty ex."

 She winced at the reminder of her one attempt at dating. "I don't…. I don't think I'm ready."

 The blonde pointed a finger at her roommate without turning her eyes away from the TV. "Well don't wait around forever, you'll miss out."

 "Says the woman who hooks up with a different guy almost every other weekend."

 "And I'm not missing out!"

 Kari laughed. Feeling her phone vibrate, she pulled it out of her pocket and checked it to see a new text from Ivar. 

 Ivar: hell no, if we r gng 2 see the Northern Lights thn we're gng 2 Iceland or Norway.

 She smiled at the text, quickly typing in a reply. 

 Kari: fine, we'll add that to the list. Can I please put South Africa back on the list?

 She fiddled with her diamond stud earrings, looking back at their conversation throughout the day. Just looking at all the texts, she bit her lip to try and contain the smile. 

 Ivar had texted her in the late morning, asking her out again. To which she just texted back a one-word answer- "no". Apparently undeterred, he ignored her 'no', saying how he wanted to take her to this popular restaurant. Somehow the conversation spiraled into creating overly outrageous "dates" he would take her on, each one more fantastic than the last, with her encouraging and creating her own ideas. Their texting had lasted all day, and she found herself actually looking forward to his responses. Something she never would have expected, especially after how rudely he hung up on her the prior day. 

 So far her favorite "date" involved him renting out the entire Roman Colosseum in Rome and having a candlelight dinner in the middle of the arena. The most amusing one was when she suggested they go skydiving. He shut down that idea saying they would have to be strapped to instructors and the only man she should ever be strapped to was him. 

 Her phone vibrated in her hand, alerting her to his response. 

 Ivar: u r not swimming w/ sharks 

 She giggled, trying to imagine his facial expression. She actually had no desire to do half of the stuff she suggested but it was funny to get a rise out of him. 

 Kari: African safari?

 "What are you giggling at?" Alana questioned, giving her the side-eye. 

 The smile dropped from her face. "Nothing."

 "That doesn't sound like nothing."

 "Just a funny meme." She deflected, getting to her feet. There was no way she could tell Alana she had been texting Ivar all day. "I'm going to shower."

 As she headed upstairs to her room, her phone vibrated again. 

 Ivar: do u jus luv danger?

 Kari: I'm talking to you, aren't I? 

 She headed to her bathroom, turning the shower on and checking the temperature. In a spur of the moment decision, she tossed in a eucalyptus shower bomb. 

 Just before she jumped in, she looked at her phone one last time to find his response.  

 Ivar: touche, kitten, touche 😘

 *****

 The soothing soundtrack of nature played over the speakers in the yoga studio room. A few women were already in the studio with their yoga mats out, either stretching or quietly conversing as they waited. Depending on the day, the ten am morning class could be busy but typically it averaged about fifteen to twenty women.

 Kari bent over, touching her palms to the floor. Even though she would not be continuously doing the routine along with those in her class, she still liked to be limber and have her muscles warmed up. This was a beginner class, where she spent a good portion of the time either correcting people's forms or showing how to do a certain pose. A few of her coworkers complained about teaching beginner classes since when the participants walked through the door, you never really knew what level they were at. 

 Checking the clock hanging over the door, she saw she had five minutes before her class started. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the pull of her muscles. The door to the studio room opened but Kari continued to stretch, shifting to a downward facing dog pose, holding it. She could hear some people moving around but she focused on her breathing.  

 "Mmm, I could get used to seeing this."

 The familiar voice behind her, caused Kari to try and whip around in startled surprise, only to end up crashing onto her ass. 

 Above her stood Ivar with a devilish smile. "Hello, kitten." He softly said with smolder that instantly made her flush and a tendril of warmth curl in her belly. Standing there in his jeans and red shirt with his hair pulled back in a man bun, it was unfair how striking he looked. Even the braces over his legs did nothing to deter from his attractiveness. 

 She rose quickly to her feet, wiping her hands over her leggings and peeking at the others in the room. Most were curiously watching their interaction but remained where they were. 

 "What are you doing here?" She hissed, turning her gaze back up to meet his. "How did you find me?"

 He rolled his eyes. "You were wearing a Whole Wellness Yoga Studio shirt when I drove you home last week. Plus, hearing from Gyda that you work here…. You're not that hard to find."

 That made sense, even if she disliked the logic. "Ok, fine. Why are you here though?"

 "I want to take you out tonight."

 "Oh gods." She could not believe what she was hearing. The prior day they had spent most of the day texting and sure it was fun, but her answer had not changed. When he had not text her this morning, she assumed that was the last she had heard from him. Apparently, he decided to ask her out in person instead of over the phone like the past two times. "Ivar… No."

 "Why? You keep saying you can't but never why."

 "It's just…. look, I don't want to date."

 He took a step closer, face inches above hers. His voice dropped low, an underlying current of anger in his tone. Those piercing blue eyes challenged her. "You say that but I don't think that's the real reason. So, until you tell me the truth, your 'no' means fucking nothing. Friends tell each other things, right?"

 "You know, I don't think we should be friends anymore."

 He chuckled, still standing too close for a normal conversation. "Too late. I like you."

 "I'm still not going out with you." She placed her hands on her hips, trying to appear confident, hoping desperately he did not hear the wavering in her voice. 'This was for the best, it was best for both of them' she repeated in her mind. 

 "Fine. I'll wait for you to change your mind." He winked and stepped back. To her horror, she watched as he walked over to the side of the room where she kept her water bottle and light jacket. He grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it over before dropping down with his legs in a manspread, that stupid smirk still on his face. 

 She stomped over to him, whisper-shouting at him. "What are you doing?"

 "I'm waiting."

 "What?"

 "I'm not leaving until you agree to go on a date with me."

 "You can't...no…. Ivar." She whined. 

 "I walked all the way here to see you, even though my legs are quite painful today…. you wouldn't kick a cripple out when they just need to rest, would you?" He asked, eyes widened in mock innocence. One of his hands rubbed at his knee in exaggerated fashion as if to prove the discomfort he was in. 

 She groaned. "I hate you."

 "No, you don't." He gloated, then nodded towards the clock. "It's ten o'clock, it's time to start your class, I believe."

 Without another word, she moved to the front of the room. She refused to play this game. Her answer was 'no' and no matter what he said or did, her answer would not change. The whole time she could feel his rakish gaze on her, reminding her how tight her leggings and purple tank top were. She tried to focus on her class, smiling at the women she recognized and the ones that she assumed was new. "Let's begin. Everyone start in mountain pose. Take deep breaths, let's center ourselves."

 "Kari!" 

 She looked over at the older woman, Ingrid, who called out. The woman was easily one of Kari's favorites, doting upon those who worked at the yoga studio, and becoming the unofficial grandmother of them. Ingrid had been coming to the yoga studio for years but was forced to only take beginner level classes after a bad fall the prior year. She loudly complained about her doctor being an idiot and how she felt fine, but Lydia refused to let her attend any other class than beginner classes until otherwise said by her doctor. 

 "Yes?"

 Ingrid's hazel eyes twinkled with mischief from the front row where she stood. "You planning on introducing that handsome young man you've got over there?"

 "No, we are going to ignore his presence. He's going to be leaving soon." Kari flatly stated with a polite smile.

 "Hi! I'm Ivar!" He announced with a charming smile, his bright blue eyes alluring under the dim lights. Giving a little wave with his fingers, he continued, "I hope my presence doesn't bother all you lovely women, I just came to see my girlfriend and ask her on a date tonight."

 A chorus of "awwwws" filled the room. 

 Kari wanted nothing more than to bang her head against a wall. Or preferably, Ivar's head. She could not believe the audacity of him.

 "Where are you taking her?" One of the newer women asked in a flirty tone, pulling her shoulders back to emphasize her ample chest. 

 Ivar barely glanced at her, keeping his focus on Kari. "It's a surprise. I wanted to do something special."

 "Young man, if I were a few years younger, I would fight Kari here so you could take me on a date." Ingrid said with a laugh. 

 "I would be honored to take a lovely woman like you on a date." He sent a playful wink to Ingrid. 

 "Alright, let's get back to yoga." Kari tried to redirect the attention. Annoyed and upset did not even begin to describe how she felt. 

 "Well it was lovely to meet you, young man. Kari should have told us her boyfriend was so handsome. We might have convinced her to bring you in sooner for some eye candy." Ingrid teased. 

 "He's not my boyfriend." Kari retorted, shooting a glare at the smug raven-haired man. 

 "And that is why I'm trying to take her on a date." He placed a hand dramatically over his heart, eyes staring at her beseechingly. "Just for her to give me a chance."

 "Get her some tulips. Those are her favorite flowers." Karina called out from the back of the room. 

 "Can't go wrong with chocolate!"

 "Oh! Read her a sonnet and dance under the stars together!"

 "This is so romantic…. like something out of a movie." Someone loudly whispered, making a few others laugh. 

 Kari dropped her chin to her chest. Tears welled in her eyes. She knew those in the class meant well, that they were really just trying to help. But they were helping the wrong person. Why would Ivar not leave her alone? She told him 'no' multiple times, that should have been enough. Her tolerance for his behavior was waning rapidly and honesty she was not sure if she would fight back…. or surrender. 

 The chair scratched faintly on the floor followed by his footsteps landing audibly as he crossed the room to reach her. She refused to lift her head, her eyes squeezed shut. Not just to pretend she could not feel him standing so close to her, but to try and hide the single tear that rolled down her cheek. 

 "Kari." He whispered, the sound a caress of her name. 

 Still she did not move. 

 Gently, he tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. His thumb wiped away the evidence of her tear. It was those captivating eyes, the ones that could both scorch everything in view but also send flames of desire dancing across her skin, that met hers. To her surprise, there was a softness in his gaze, a vulnerability, that was reminiscent of the few times they were alone. As if with just her, for a brief moment, he let his guard down and she could glimpse the real Ivar. 

 "Go out with me." He murmured faintly, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Standing in front of her, his broad back to the class gave them a semblance of privacy. "Please."

 "Why can't you let this go?" She begged quietly, staring up at him. 

 "I told you, I'm persistent." He smiled, almost shyly. 

 In his words, it felt like there was such a depth to them she was unaware of. That he was confessing something to her in which she did not have the key to fully understand. 

 She sighed softly, closing her eyes for a moment before looking at him again. "Fine. I'll go…. But it's only as friends, ok? This isn't…. Romantic. Just…. Just friends."

 "Sure, just friends." He leaned forward and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to her cheek. "I'll pick you up at seven."

 She nodded, feeling torn apart inside. 

 After a lingering look that breathed a flame into her belly, he spun on his heel to face the women. "She said yes!"

 A few cheers and clapping reverberated in the small yoga studio room. 

 "I graciously thank you all for your sound advice and encouragement with helping me to woo the beautiful Kari. Wish me luck as I plan to thoroughly spoil her tonight." Ivar dramatically bowed, shooting a quick wink at Kari as she watched him. 

 She desperately tried to fight the small smile off her lips. No one could say that Ivar was not charming or charismatic when it suited him. 

 As he finally made his way to the door, he turned around just before pushing it open. "Wear something nice." He said, pointing a finger at Kari and then walked out like a dream where one cannot decide if it was a nightmare or not. 

 The brunette ran a hand down her face before shoving aside her emotions and plastering a customer smile on. "I'm so sorry about all of this. Let's get back to it. I promise it won't happen again, ladies."

 "Kari, dear, you have fun with that boy tonight." Ingrid spoke up, eyes darting to the now closed door and back to the yoga instructor. "And if you don't want him, let me know. I'd still jump on him in a heartbeat. That boy has the prettiest eyes, I swear."

 A few sounds of agreement echoed in the room. 

 Kari could not stop her smile from turning genuine at Ingrid. No matter the situation, the feisty, older woman always knew how to make her laugh. "I promise I'll let you know. Now, back to mountain pose please."

 Silently, she hoped tonight was not a mistake.

[clumsyclifford]

lashton prompt: luke falling asleep on skype and ashton taking the opportunity to draw him, bonus if someone else finds the sketches before ashton shows them to luke

meghna this prompt is from almost a full calendar year ago. i am proud to report that after all this time i did in fact manage to set it in spideyverse because that’s how determined i am. more info in ao3 notes but it takes place in the summer before their senior year of high school, so after the events of everything else in spideyverse so far

read here on ao3

-

Ashton will have to thank Maya later for the tip about the Fine Arts Room. He jimmies the door handle and, as promised, the door swings opens to reveal a darkened room full of half-finished projects. They must really take the decency of humanity on faith here. Anyone could come in at any time and sabotage any of this work.

Ashton has less nefarious plans.

He sits at his usual spot but doesn’t turn any lights on; the big windows shine just enough moonlight into the room that Ashton can see the silhouettes of the furniture, and his laptop will be on in a moment anyway. Careful of the scattered pages over his workspace, he opens his computer and loads up Skype. 

Just in time for an incoming call.

Ashton fumbles with his headphones and plugs them in with one hand while he accepts the call with the other. The screen fills with Luke’s brightly-lit, highly pixelated face. Chin in his hands, elbows propped on his desk, hair a ruffled mess (from the mask, Ashton knows) — the sight of him fills Ashton with warmth.

“Hey,” Luke says, smiling his usual cheeky smile. They’ve been texting sporadically, but seeing Luke’s face — hearing his voice — gives Ashton a fluttery feeling behind his sternum. Calum would call that anatomically impossible, but he’d do it with a smirk. “I can barely see you.”

“I’m sitting in the dark,” Ashton explains. His voice is a hushed whisper even though he knows it’s absurd to be paranoid. They’re supposed to be confined to their bunks by now, and the staff and counselors will all be asleep. The only reason he and Luke are calling now, past midnight, is because now is the only time they’re both available. “I’m in the Fine Arts Room.”

“Ooh, can I see?”

“I don’t want to turn on the lights,” Ashton says. “There are windows and stuff.”

“Are you not supposed to be there?” Luke raises an eyebrow and grins. “Ooh, is Ashton Irwin sneaking around?”

“Well, if we weren’t calling at the middle of the night, I wouldn’t have to.”

“Don’t they lock the buildings?” Luke suddenly looks concerned.

Ashton shrugs. “Maya told me that if I jiggle the handle, the door will open. She was right.”

“Go Maya,” Luke says. “I like Maya. Who’s Maya?”

“My new friend,” says Ashton. “She mostly paints. We’ve got a challenge going on about whether she’s better at drawing or I’m better at painting, since neither of us really use those mediums. Hannah — one of the other campers — is going to find something for us to both paint slash draw and then there’ll be an unofficial panel of judges. It’s pretty stupid.”

“You’re smiling a lot,” Luke says, and Ashton realizes he is. “Doesn’t sound stupid to me. You think you’re gonna win?”

“No,” Ashton says honestly. “I’m pretty awful at painting.”

“I’m sure you’re better than you think. How hard can it be?”

“That’s very rich coming from you, Mr. I-Can’t-Draw-A-House.”

“Hey, fuck off! I can draw a house, thank you very much.” Luke looks down at his desk and his focus shifts, and Ashton watches in bemused patience. As he waits, he draws a blank piece of paper towards him and grabs the nearest pencil lying around. His hands move almost unconsciously, drawing lines and curves and sketching the outline of something Ashton hasn’t quite decided on yet. Luke finally lifts his head up. “Here, see?” He holds up a piece of paper to the camera, where he’s drawn a box with an isosceles triangle on top for the roof, complete with a little chimney sticking out. “House,” Luke proudly declares. “Boom. Get fucked, Irwin.”

“I stand corrected,” Ashton chuckles. He hums. “They’ll probably just find us equally talented because painting is different from drawing and blah blah blah artsy hipster bullshit.”

“Stop dismissing the artsy hipster bullshit,” Luke says stubbornly. “I’ll have you know my boyfriend deals exclusively in artsy hipster bullshit.”

“You think my drawings are artsy hipster bullshit?”

“No, babe, I think you are artsy hipster bullshit.” Luke grins widely and then gets cut off by a yawn. Ashton bites back a very cheesy comment about how Luke should web himself up for being criminally cute.

“You know what, I’m gonna let you have that one,” he says instead. “Since I am at an artsy hipster bullshit summer camp.”

“I miss you.” Luke pouts. It’s a funny look on him. Ashton tries to imagine Spiderman pouting and completely fails. Sometimes it’s hard for him to reconcile Luke and Spiderman being the same person. That this adorable six-foot-and-change beanstalk who yawns on Skype is the same person who can do a double-backflip and land on his feet on the rooftop of any building. Ashton’s boyfriend stops crimes. What the fuck.

“I miss you too,” he says. “You seem tired.”

“I’m not tired.” Instant karma is a bitch. Luke immediately yawns again, this time much wider. “Okay, I’m a little tired,” he admits, smacking his lips like a child. “Summer break is deceptively boring. I…I run out of things to do all day, so I just kinda…keep patrolling. I might be wearing myself out.”

“Jesus, Luke, take it easy on yourself. Queens goes the entire school day without Spiderman’s protection during the school year. You can handle a break.”

“Yeah, but I might as well patrol,” Luke counters. “I have the time, and it’s not like I’m doing anything else.”

“I thought you and Michael were working on new specs for the suit.”

“It’s mostly Michael. Also, I think he’s kind of annoyed about the whole 24/7 patrol. He can’t work on the suit if I’m wearing it.”

“That is true.”

“But he’s been spending a lot of his time with Calum, anyway,” Luke says coolly. “So I figure he’s probably got other priorities.”

“Well, if you keep blowing him off to obsessively patrol the city, I can’t possibly imagine why he’s making other plans.” 

Luke stares through the camera. His shoulders slump. “Maybe. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Ashton chirps.

Luke sighs deeply. “You’re not here, Ash.”

Ashton purses his lips and frowns. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, but I’m just saying. I miss you. I wish you were here.”

“Yeah,” Ashton says. He misses Luke too, more than is probably healthy. That’s what he gets, he supposes, for only having a handful of close relationships; Luke and Calum are his whole life, and not being able to hug either one of them for even a week has been pretty challenging. “But look, it’s only another week, and then I am all yours, I swear.”

“Don’t enable me,” Luke says, affronted. “You’re supposed to say things like… ‘You don’t own me’ and ‘I’m my own person’ and stuff like that.”

Ashton blinks, confused. “Uh…well, yeah, but we both already know that. I’m just saying I miss you too. But if it’s any consolation, Maya has ruthlessly mocked me for all the drawings I do of you. Like mercilessly. It’s actually kind of embarrassing.”

“That is super embarrassing,” Luke says, with a small, bashful smile. “You’re so fucking lame, Ashton.”

“Wow,” Ashton says. “You even sound like her.”

Luke giggles, which turns seamlessly into a yawn. “Hey, I came first. Maya sounds like me.”

“Luke, babe, just go to sleep,” Ashton says. “We can talk another night. Maybe one where you’re more well-rested.”

“I’m super rested,” Luke says in a monotone. “King of restedness, me.”

“Wow, I’m suddenly convinced.” Luke makes a half-hearted face at him and Ashton makes one back. The sketch under Ashton’s pencil has revealed itself to be Luke, yet again. Shocker. It really is embarrassing that Ashton defaults to drawing his boyfriend. If they ever break up, Ashton will be fucked.

“Are you drawing?” Trust Luke to notice. Although the fact that it’s taken him this long to notice means he must be slower on the uptake than usual. 

“Yeah,” Ashton says, because when is he not. 

“Drawing what?”

“Guess,” Ashton says dryly.

Luke gives a sleepy smile. “At least you’re predictable.”

“Luke, I’m begging you to get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow or this weekend or something, okay?”

Luke yawns yet again. “Okay,” he agrees, right hand propping up his head. His eyes flutter shut and then open again. “Okay, fine.”

“And please let Michael look at your suit,” Ashton adds. “You know he’s only going to make it better.”

“I know, I know, I just…” Luke’s eyes fall shut again. It seems more out of tiredness than distress. “If I give it to him, then I can’t use it.”

Ashton’s pretty sure if Luke’s hero complex gets any bigger he’s going to have to start renting out rooms. “It’ll be two days, tops,” he says. “Take two days off.”

“I wanna wait ‘til you’re back,” Luke mumbles. “Spend ‘em with you.”

“You spend most of your time with me,” Ashton says gently. “Spend them with Michael. Hell, spend them with Cal.”

“But I want…” Luke yawns. He lists sideways a little. “I want you.”

Ashton chews his lip. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he says. “You won’t be able to get rid of me.”

Luke hums absently. “‘Kay, g’night,” he slurs, but makes no gesture to hang up the call. He probably expects Ashton to end it. If Luke is as asleep as he looks right now, Ashton kind of has to.

The graphite on the sketch paper is smudging a little. Ashton glances down at the half-assed likeness of his boyfriend and has an idea.

Quietly, he grabs another blank page, moves his laptop back a little, and starts to draw.

-

They’re up bright and early the next day, and after breakfast Ashton follows a decidedly more lively Maya into the Fine Arts Room, where she takes her place diagonally from him at their table. They’re both mid-project; Ashton stacks and sets aside his scratch papers and pulls forth the drawing he’s currently working on.

“So? You talked to Luke?”

Ashton blinks and looks up at Maya. “Yeah,” he says. “Thanks for the tip, I meant to say.”

“Hey, don’t thank me, thank Cupid,” Maya says airily. “I’m on the side of love, baby.”

Ashton snorts and rolls his eyes. “Let Cupid know I say thanks.”

Maya hums. “Cupid says you’re welcome.”

They’re quiet while Maya gets herself set up — she has to put all her acrylics back every evening only to set them back out every morning, another reason Ashton prefers pencils over paints — and Ashton picks up his pencil and starts to draw. 

“Is this yours?” Maya asks, peering at Ashton’s discarded stack of sketches.

“Yeah,” Ashton says without looking. “Just sketches and stuff.”

“Wait, this is so cute.” She’s leaning over the drawing on the top. Ashton glances up.

It’s Luke from last night, soundly asleep over Skype.

Ashton had ended the call after about ten minutes of silence, enough time to get the rough outlines of all the important shapes. The video quality wouldn’t have lent itself to a good sketch anyway if Ashton had been chasing authenticity, but fortunately he knows Luke’s face well enough — both from drawing it and gazing at it in real life — to pretend the call had had a crystal-clear picture. None of it is colored in, but it’s as obviously Luke as all of Ashton’s other drawings. Somehow, though, this one feels more personal.

“Did you draw this last night?”

“Uh,” Ashton says, reaching for the drawing. He shuffles it between several other papers so an innocuous collection of doodles is now at the top of the stack, and Maya clicks her tongue in disapproval.

“Hey, I was looking at that. It was cute.”

“Yeah, it’s— it’s just nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, it’s adorable,” Maya says. She fixes him with puppy-dog eyes. “Pleeeease can I see it? I won’t show anyone. I’m studying so I can kick your ass in our competition.”

Ashton sighs. “It’s just Luke. You’ve seen millions of drawings of him.”

“But those were obviously from memory,” Maya points out, taking his non-answer as an affirmative and sifting through the stack. Ashton doesn’t bother trying to stop her. It’s not like he has anything to hide — or at least not anything Maya could figure out by looking at the drawing.

And in her defense, Luke does look cute as fuck in the drawing, because he’d looked cute as fuck in real life.

“For all you know, this one is also from memory.”

“You drew the screen, Ash, it’s clearly from last night.”

“Well,” Ashton says diplomatically. Then he abandons diplomacy, because Maya has located the drawing and is grinning and aww-ing. “Well do you blame me? He fell asleep on our call. It was adorable.”

Maya giggles. “You guys are so fucking cute,” she says. “Y’know, most people would be insulted if their boyfriend fell asleep on a video call with them.”

“He’s been really busy lately,” Ashton says. “And it was the end of the call anyway.”

“One day, I will have someone to draw me when I fall asleep on our Skype calls,” Maya says wistfully. “I’m putting the vibes out into the universe so it’ll happen soon.”

“Maybe you’ll be the one drawing them,” Ashton points out. 

Maya finally sets down the Luke drawing. She dips her brush in red paint, clearly intending to put it into her work, but at Ashton’s words instead brandishes it threateningly at him. “I won’t be drawing anyone, buddy.”

Ashton laughs. “But you’d date someone who drew instead of painted?”

“At this point?” Maya sighs theatrically. “I’d date just about anyone who did anything.”

Ashton laughs again. They work quietly for a few minutes. Ashton starts shading.

“Why do you only ever draw Luke?” Maya asks. “You said you’ve been together for less than a year. Who were you drawing before then?”

Ashton shrugs. “Uh, anyone, really,” he says. “People. There are a lot of pretty interesting people at my school, and besides, I’m from the city.”

Maya snorts derisively. “You’re from Queens.”

“Queens is in the city.”

Another derisive snort. “Queens is in the city the same way using ink stamps is painting.”

“That’s not even a little bit the same thing, at all.”

“You’re not a city boy.”

“I am literally a city boy!” Maya waves him off, but Ashton ignores her. She’s from Massachusetts. She has no leg to stand on. “My point is that there are lot of interesting people near where I live, too.”

“You didn’t ever, I don’t know, draw your friends? Calum, didn’t you say he’s your best friend from home?”

“Ah, yeah,” Ashton says. “Calum. Didn’t like when I drew him.”

“What, seriously? Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Ashton says, and it’s true. “He just asked me to stop drawing him one day so I did.” He hesitates. “...Mostly. Sometimes I still do. But if you knew Calum you’d understand why. He’s extremely good-looking.”

“Of course he is,” Maya says. “Any chance he’s single and/or interested in women from several states away?”

“No to both questions,” Ashton says sympathetically. “But good try.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Maya says good-naturedly, and they lapse into silence again.

It’s broken by Maya, again. “Do you show Luke the drawings you do of him?”

That’s a complicated question. No, Ashton doesn’t actively show his drawings to Luke, but Luke usually sees them anyway. Some of them are more private; Ashton keeps the one of Luke in the Spiderman suit sans mask folded up in the bottom of his socks drawer where he’s pretty certain no one ever looks. There doesn’t seem to be a point to showing it to Luke now, so long after he’d actually done it. But for the most part he’s not hiding his art from Luke; Luke sees what he sees, notwithstanding Ashton’s intention.

“Sometimes,” Ashton says.

Maya nods at the drawing of Luke asleep on Skype. “You gonna show him that one?”

“Uh, probably not.”

“What, why? It’s so cute.”

“I don’t know, maybe because it makes me seem like a ridiculous lovesick borderline creepy idiot?”

“Guys love that,” Maya assures him. “Or so I’m told. C’mon, why hold out on him when he already knows you’re basically obsessed with drawing him?” She taps the drawing. “And when he looks this adorable?”

Ashton breathes a laugh. “You have a point.”

“I always do,” Maya says, and she flips her hair dramatically.

Maybe Michael would let Ashton draw him. That would be a nice change from always drawing Luke and never drawing Calum. Maybe Ashton could just do it and then ask Michael what he thinks. It would be nice to have new muses. Ashton has spent a lot of time on Luke; maybe it’s about time he branched out again.

“Hey,” Ashton says, struck with inspiration as he watches Maya make brushstrokes across her paper. “Can I draw you?”

“Hell yeah, go for it,” Maya says. “I’m not sitting still for you, though.”

“I’ll live,” Ashton says dryly. Maya grins and laughs. A fresh page before Ashton and a new pencil in his hand, he studies Maya’s profile carefully and then brings his pencil to the page.

-

“Did you break into the Fine Arts Room again?”

“I don’t think it’s breaking in if it’s technically unlocked,” Ashton points out.

Luke squints but evidently fails to argue with this logic. “How’s artsy hipster bullshit camp?”

“Really good,” Ashton says, cracking his knuckles. His parents have told him repeatedly that doing so will give him arthritis, but Ashton suspects that’s more of a scare tactic than a fact. At this point he doubts even rehab could get him to stop. It’s the only thing Ashton can think to do with his hands when he’s not drawing. “By the way, remember the other day when you fell asleep on our call?”

I fell asleep at the end of our call,” Luke corrects him. “We were done talking.”

“Okay, weirdo,” Ashton says, shaking his head. “Well, anyway, Maya convinced me that I should show you this because maybe you’d think it was cute, or something.” He holds up the drawing of Luke.

Luke leans closer to the camera. Anyone else might have trouble discerning what’s on the page given how dim it is around Ashton, but not Luke. Luke has super-senses. His visual acuity is, like, a thousand. (Rough estimate.)

So when Luke’s face splits into a grin, Ashton knows he’s seen exactly what’s there. “Oh my fucking God, you sap,” he says. “I thought you just hung up straightaway.” 

“Nope,” Ashton says. “I’m just saving moments. One day I’ll have enough for a flip book.”

Luke’s expression goes all mushy and heart-eyed. “You’re unbelievable,” he says, fond and endeared. “I can’t believe you’re not bored of my dumb face yet.”

“Are you kidding? Have you seen your dumb face?” Ashton laughs. “It’s impossible to be bored of it.”

“Ashton,” Luke says, his eyes crinkling so much that the blue all but disappears. “I love you.”

And everything makes sense.

“I love you too,” Ashton says, struck by the realization that he does. The drawings, the midnight Skype calls, the death-defying trips around the city with only his faith in Luke to keep them afloat, the fluttery feeling — all of the colors lock into place, and Ashton can see the rainbow clear as day in front of him. He’s never been in love; of course he couldn’t tell. But there’s nothing else it could be.

“Oh, good,” Luke says timidly. “I was a little worried you wouldn’t say it back.”

Ashton glances from the drawing in his hand to the look on Luke’s face on the screen, and he cracks a crooked smile. “Then you, superhero, have not been paying attention.”

[collecting-stories]

Bitch - t. 05 - Sarah Cameron

Summary: Sarah sees a video of John B and makes a final decision about the mess she’s in.

7 Scenes from the Same Summer Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

✰I've heard from everybody else, that you're so much better without me✰

She wasn’t sure exactly what she was feeling. Kiara had texted her, as if it mattered, as if she was still on the fence, telling her to watch John B’s story on Instagram. And there it was, a game of beer pong at someone’s house, she didn’t recognize it, though she spent several loops of the video just staring at the wall behind her maybe ex-boyfriend's head, and John B, kissing some girl. 

She had committed the video to memory, sitting on the oversized chair in your bedroom trying to decide what she was supposed to do with this. It all boiled down to the most basic of details. He’d kissed another girl, a different girl, and maybe Kiara felt like that was some sort of offence or maybe she was rubbing it in Sarah’s face, either way...what was there to say?

All she felt was annoyed that Kiara would send her that video in the first place, that John B would take the opportunity of being on the island to monopolize her friends. 

“What are you looking at?” You asked, coming in to the room, toweling off from the shower. Sarah’s eyes were glued to the phone and all you could hear was the sound of cheering and laughter coming from the speakers.  

“I don’t even know.” She held the phone out to you and you watched it replay once again. John B sinking a ball on Pope’s side of the table before cheering, a little too excitedly for your taste though you couldn’t think of a single thing, other than Sarah, that you and John B agreed on. He cheered and then he kissed the girl next to him. Wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.  

Sarah took the phone away after the second loop and opened her texts again, sending a single question mark to Kiara.  

“Who sent it to you?” You asked, unsure where you were supposed to be stepping right now. Where you the concerned friend because you certainly hadn’t been yesterday.  

“Kiara.” Sarah replied, “he’s calling me like twenty times a day and begging for me to hear him out and swearing that we’re still in love but all the sudden he’s macking on some random girl. Good for you John B, what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

“So you don’t wanna cry in a pint of ice cream or talk about how annoying that girl’s laugh is?” You asked, pulling your t-shirt over your head and wedging yourself onto the seat with Sarah.  

“I thought I would. Like I watched it the first time and I was sitting there like, okay, feel sad. But nothing happened.” Sarah replied. “I meant what I said yesterday. It wasn’t some mind game to make you feel like I liked you. I’m not running back to John B or calling him and begging him to take me back. I don’t give two shits who he kisses. Like. I just want to be done with it.”  

“I’m just a little cautious of that feeling, cause it wasn’t that long ago that you told me you didn’t know how you felt.” You replied honestly. You wanted to believe Sarah every single time she kissed you and told you that she liked you. But you were trying so hard to be cautious of what this was and wasn’t.  

“Yeah, I know.” Sarah chewed on her bottom lip as she checked her phone, a response from Kiara. Wasn’t she pissed or anything? “I thought I was confused...I thought I needed this summer to just have some time away from John B and then we could figure things out. But the longer I’m with you the less I care about him.”

“But this is such a controlled environment.”

“It’s not rehab, babe.”

“You know what I mean. What if you don’t feel the same when we head back down to North Carolina? What if you get down there and John B is there...I don’t want to sound selfish but I don’t want this to end.” You admitted. Being a good friend, be damned. You loved Sarah and that kind of heart break was terrifying.  

“Do you really think that’ll happen?” Sarah asked, shifting to face you, legs draping over your lap.  

Your eyes met hers and you bit at your bottom lip, shaking your head, “no.”  

Fears and insecurities be damned, you knew Sarah. She wasn’t just some girl, some Victoria from Poly Sci. She was your best friend. You knew all the things that made her happy, that pissed her off, that made her scared. You knew her and whether you had wanted to let yourself believe it in the moment you knew that when she told you she loved you she meant it.  

Sarah brushed damp hair away from your face and leaned forward, kissing you. For a brief moment something in the back of her mind told her that she should post this on her stories. John B thought he was so clever, so irresistible, that kiss over beer pong was nothing compared to this. But just as quickly as the thought came, she lost it. Occupied instead with hitching her leg over you so that she could straddle your lap, bringing herself as close to you as possibly.  

“You know, we should really try actually going somewhere,” you teased, “we head back down soon.”  

“What did you have in mind?” She asked, hands traveling under your shirt, trying to convince you to stay in. She didn’t care too much about the sights outside of your bedroom.  

“We could go to the beach?” You offered, swatting her hands away.  

Sarah pouted, “with other people?”

“It’ll be so fun. Promise.” You did your best to persuade her, “come on, you owe me a proper date then.”  

“We went out like...three days ago.”  Sarah replied, pouting at you as she slumped down in the chair.  

“Yeah...” you said, drawing out each letter of the word, “but that was before...ya know.”  

“I know?” She asked, a teasing tone in her voice as she sat up. She knew exactly what you were saying. This would be the first proper date since the other day when she told you that she loved you and since she seemed completely over John B. It wasn’t something you knew exactly how to put into words. You didn’t want to call her your girlfriend and have her freak out but you had been mulling the word over in your brain since the other day.  

“Sarah.”  

“Before I told you I loved you?” Sarah said. She had said it enough times since then that she was completely comfortable saying it. The words didn’t feel like a lie. She didn’t feel like she was just saying something to push away feelings that she had for John B. Sarah knew she meant them.  

“Yes, before that.” You replied. You hadn’t said it yet, you weren’t sure you could. You knew you did, you had loved Sarah since September but saying it meant letting her know. It meant that you put yourself at the risk of being completely shattered by her and you didn’t have the nerve for that yet.  

“Fine. The beach it is, but then we’re coming right back here.”  

“How can you not want to go to the beach?” You asked, happy for the change in subject. “You practically live on one.”

“Exactly!” She stressed. “I want to spend time with you.”

“You spend time with me every day, all the time.” You replied, “you have been since August. That’s like, almost a year of being stuck with me.”  

“Which has obviously worked out in both our favors cause now I’ve got this awesome girlfriend.” Sarah said, reaching out for you and pulling you back into the chair with her.  

“Sarah,” you bit your lip.

“I am not rebounding or having some summer fling or whatever...I like you. Love you. And I want you to be my girlfriend and yeah, I’ve never had a girlfriend before and it’ll take some getting used to on my end but I like you so much and I wanna be with you.” She insisted.  

“I wanna be with you to.”  You replied. And I love you. But that part you didn’t say. 

-

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[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 2

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Thank you all so much for your thoughts and comments. I enjoy them immensely. I thought this was all going to be from Rowan’s POV, but... I was wrong. CW: Drinking, swearing.

The first Monday after Ashryver Playland opens is always Aelin’s favorite day of the summer. It’s a silly tradition her grandparents started, but it’s been a part of her life as long as she can remember. That very first Monday after the park’s first successful week, the Ashryver Galathinius clan opens up their summer home to the Playland’s staff and families for an all day pool party and barbeque.

Summer has always been Aelin’s favorite season. It means spending three months of pure bliss in her summer home, overlooking the waters of Terrasen from her bedroom balcony. And there’s something about Ashryver’s opening week barbeque that always manages to sets the tone for her summer. Summer doesn’t really begin until the barbeque begins. It’s always marks her first something.

When she was eleven, Aelin met her first real best friend, Dorian – one of the board member’s sons. She’d left the party to hide in the music room, trying to teach herself how to play her favorite Death Cab for Cutie song on the large grand piano, when he wandered in, singing on top of her stumbling melody line with a flawless unbroken tenor. He’d flashed her a giant smile and pushed his floppy dark curls out of his face and sat down on the bench next to her. They’d been best friends ever since. And the firsts only continued from there.

As Aelin finishes drawing a perfect cat eye with her liquid eyeliner she wonders what first awaits her this summer.  

“Aelin, ten minutes til guests.” Her mother, Evalin, walks past her open bedroom door and does a double-take. “Wowww, someone looks especially nice today,” her mom says with a playful gleam in her eye. “Might I ask who you’re dressing up for?” she asks, taking in Aelin’s white eyelet sundress and full face of makeup. “Because I know this certainly isn’t for Dorian. Wisely.”

“I heard that,” Dorian says, bounding up the last few steps and onto the second floor landing. He sees Aelin and grins that very same grin he gave her that first day he spotted her a decade ago and takes off running. Aelin squeals as Dorian hugs her from behind and swings her around, lifting her off her feet.

“Dor, put me down, I just finished doing my hair!” Aelin says, shrugging him off, but she returns his smile fondly, even as he flops down onto her perfectly made bed, making himself comfortable and kicking off his flip flops.

“You do look suspiciously nice, Ace. What’s with the dress and the hair? Aren’t you going to swim?” Dorian asks stretching his arms up and placing them under his head.

Aelin ignores him and goes back to finishing her makeup. She uncaps a crimson red lipstick and leans into the mirror to apply it when –

“You know if you’re actually looking to make out with someone tonight then red lips probably isn’t the right choice.”

Aelin slides her eye to the boy on her bed and then straightens up again, putting the red lipstick away. He does have a point. Dorian bolts upright, eyebrows raised.

“We’re making out with someone tonight? Who?” Dorian asks, poking Aelin’s thigh with one of his toes.

Aelin’s cheeks flush as she remembers the name of the staff member she so thoroughly stalked the other night. So thoroughly, in fact, that she’s actually embarrassed about it. But also, who has a public Facebook profile these days? Rowan Whitethorn, that’s who.

When Aelin realized all she had to do was ask her five year old nephew for the name of the man who rescued him, she was easily able to find the man on the RSVP list for the barbeque. And from there, she sat in front of her computer for hours, soaking in every last detail she could find. Grew up in Wendlyn, went to school at Mistward and majored in computer sciences and graduated four years ago. His interests include photography and fitness and baking (what man enjoys baking and posts pictures of it?).

Aelin is extremely curious as to how he ended up working at Playland. A man with that kind of degree doesn’t usually find himself ripping ticket stubs, but she’s not complaining about it. Aelin really enjoys looking at his face. And his arms. And his back. She’s anxious to talk to him today, which is annoying. Aelin is never anxious around men. She’s fun and flirty and confident, but one look at Rowan had her excess nerves dancing in circles and turning her into kind of a bitch. She’s hoping her second impression is a lot better. Hence, the dress. And the makeup.

“We’re making out with no one.” Aelin shoots a warning glance in Dorian’s direction as she puts on a light pink lip stain.

“You and Chaol didn’t get back together, did you?” Dorian asks, and Aelin cringes.

“Of course not.” She turns to Dorian as she puts on the final touch – her favorite gold hoop earrings. “You don’t think your best friend would have told you if we’d gotten back together?”

“I don’t know, that last break up nearly took us all out, so if we could not repeat that, that’d be great.” Dorian stares at her, willing her to fess up, but Aelin refuses to give him anything in return. It’s way too early to tell Dorian anything.

“All right, then,” he drawls in a silly British accent. “Keep your secrets.”

Aelin sticks out her tongue as her mom calls out from downstairs, “Kids! Party guests are here!”

“Twenty-four-years old, and we’re still fucking kids,” Dorian grumbles as the pair make their way down the grand front staircase. Aelin hops up onto the wooden banister and rides it all the way down to the bottom, shouting “Catch me!” to Dorian as he runs and chases her to the foyer.

Evalin scolds them, but there’s no real bite to it.  Aelin fixes her banister-swept hair and makes her way out to the front stairs where she and her parents will greet all the staff members and their families. Her parents are all about making the Playland employees feel welcomed, and they make a point to learn each and every one of their names. Plus, they’re a stickler for etiquette. Aelin can’t remember a time when she wasn’t on the front steps to welcome party guests as they arrived.

“I’ll meet you out back in… an hour-ish?” Aelin tells Dorian. “Steal me a bottle of pink champagne?”

Dorian bows at the waist. “Yes, your majesty.” He chuckles softly when she flips him off.

Aelin is the last to join her family. Her parents and her brother, for all intents and purposes, Aedion, already perched and ready to welcome the first wave of guests.

An hour later and Aelin’s jaw already hurts from smiling. She’s shaken so many hands and met so many people and made polite conversation with staff members from years past, but there’s still one face that hasn’t shown yet, and Aelin is having a hard time not showing her disappointment. He RSVPed yes, which means he should be here. Not showing up would be very rude. Right?

Aedion shakes out his hands and cracks his neck loudly. “Who’s ready for a drink?”

Aelin is reluctant to leave the front stairs. Leaving the front stairs means they’re finished greeting people at the party, which means that party guests have stopped arriving, and she’s not ready to admit that defeat. She gives one last wistful glance down the long empty driveway before giving in.

“Yeah, I could use a large drink,” Aelin yawns, leaning into her big brother’s shoulder.

“You’re not allowed to be tired,” he says with a laugh, squeezing her arm. “You are a sprightly youth and don’t have a ten-year-old and a five-year-old waking you up every morning at the crack of dawn to fight about watching Cars or Disney Fam Jam.”

Aelin looks up at him. “That’s not a real thing.”

“I assure you, it is.”

“This guy needs a drink,” Aelin says loudly as she and Aedion make their way out to the back patio where the party is really happening, and Aelin relaxes a tiny bit. So what if Rowan isn’t coming and she got all dressed up for nothing? She’ll look extra cute in pictures this year. She’s here with her family on the first real day of summer, and she’s determined to have a good day, regardless.

She takes in the scene around her – everyone seems to be having the best time. Caterers mill around the stone patio, holding out trays of grilled meats and veggies. At the far side of the patio is a long bar with an ample crowd around it. Champagne is being popped and spirits are being poured, and there’s endless bounds of chatter and laughter from all directions. In the middle of it all, the pool is filled with children and adults alike, playing games and doing handstands and lounging on floats.

The edge of the pool fades into the perfect view of the ocean. Aelin takes a deep breath as she watches the waves break against the shore. She listens to the gulls cawing overhead and inhales the salty sea breeze. Despite her small bout of disappointment, Aelin is happy.

Aedion’s two kids squeal for his attention from the pool.

“Dad! Auntie Ae!” Evie calls from the far end of the pool, her usual strawberry blonde ringlets sopping wet around her shoulders. “Watch me dive!”

Evie dives into the side of the pool, her dolphin arms in perfect form as she splashes into the water. She emerges with a giant smile on her freckled face.

“Good job!” Aedion beams. “Okay, drinks, now,” he whispers to Aelin, guiding her toward the bar.

“Where’s your wife?” Aelin asks, looking around for the green eyed brunette, who’s usually hovering around her children.

Aedion points ahead, and sure enough the woman in question stands at the front of the bar, looking insanely glamorous in a black one piece with a sheer leopard kaftan, taking shots of tequila with Aelin’s favorite returning staff member, Elide.

“Lysandra brought our babysitter with us today,” he says with a devious smile and snakes his way through the crowds to wrap his arm around his wife’s waist.

“Aelin, come do shots!” Elide pulls Aelin up to the bar, her outstretched hand helping her weave her way through the throngs of buzzed staff members. “We’re celebrating my promotion!”

“Ellie is officially manager level this summer.” Lysandra and Elide raise their newly filled shot glasses and hand one each to Aelin and Aedion respectively. Aelin hates tequila but loves Elide, so she clinks glasses and downs the alcohol quickly, grabbing a lime and sucking as much of the juice out of it as she can.

She shudders and Aedion punches her in the shoulder playfully. “Lightweight.”

Aelin rolls her eyes and reverts the topic back to Elide. “So, big shot manager. Does this mean you’re spending all your time with Lorcan now?” Aelin raises her eyebrows, knowing about Elide’s not so small crush on the stoic manager. “Long nights, just the two of you, arranging schedules in the soft romantic light of the Playland breakroom?”

Elide covers her face with her hand and screws her eyes shut. “Oh my god! No! No that is not what is happening at all.”

“Your mouth says no, but your blush says – ‘Yes, Lorcan, yes!’” Aelin teases, poking at Elide’s rosy cheeks. Elide slaps Aelin’s hands away.

“I just had three tequila shots, of course my cheeks are red.” Elide’s hands go to her cheeks, covering them as much as she can, trying to will away the warm flush creeping over her face. “You’re a monster, Aelin. That’s not what’s going on with Lorcan,” she hisses.

“What’s going on with me?” Lorcan asks, approaching from out of nowhere with a beer in his hand, and if possible Elide’s blush grows even deeper.

“Nothing!” Elide shouts, exasperated. “I’ll be right back. Be good, Aelin.” She throws Aelin a warning glare as she stalks off, and Lysandra and Aedion bite back their laughter as a bewildered Lorcan muses out loud—

“Did I say something?”

“No,” Aelin says, turning all her attention to Lorcan. “Elide was just saying how excited she is to work as a manager with you.”

Lorcan’s face lights up as he takes a sip of his beer. “Yeah, she’s been a huge help so far. Especially with such a new staff this year.”

“Yeah… a lot of newbies this year.” Aelin pauses, wondering if she should probe Lorcan about Rowan. It wouldn’t do any harm, right? “Anyone giving you any trouble?”

“Nah,” Lorcan shakes his head and pushes a long piece of hair behind his hair. “But you know me. I like them to think they’re all giving me trouble, so they act accordingly.” He snorts, amused with his own management technique. “There’s one new guy who is so jumpy around me. I love it.”

“You’re evil,” Aelin laughs.

“I prefer diabolical,” Lorcan replies. “Ah, and it looks like he just arrived,” Lorcan continues with a grin. “Want me to introduce you, so you can see it up close?”

Lorcan points in the direction of the sliding doors that lead out to the patio, and there, in all his tall blonde and board-shorted glory stands Rowan. Finally. But Aelin’s heart drops. Because Rowan isn’t alone. He’s arrived with a girl.

~*~*~*~*~

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[kiara-carrera]

I *need* a JJ and Leah "in the water" kiss for the kiss prompts.

places where people kiss: in the water + mayson

stop omg i love this, love this for my lil water babies. jj is a whiny little attention whore, but we love him anyways. anyways, uh, lot of build up, not a lot of kissing.

Alone time was hard to come by when you were dating someone within your circle of friends. Leah and JJ knew that well enough.

It was normally wasn't that bad. The two had been best friends first and foremost and the group dynamic honestly hadn't changed that much, which worked well in all of their favors. The others had been worried that their newfound love of macking on each other was going to flip everything on its head, but that wasn't the case.

Except sometimes, they just wanted a moment to just themselves, where they didn't have to worry about the others telling them to get a room or to quit acting so "lovey dovey" (which, honestly, Leah liked to argue that they didn't? At least, not in public?). Having a tight knit group of friends was great until literally every time you got to see your significant other, it was within the confines of a group activity.

So when JJ had suggested a boat day out on the marsh, just the two of them, while the others had work? It had been like music to Leah's ears.

JJ had somehow convinced John B to lend them the HMS for the day, which he'd only agreed to once JJ promised to chip in gas money and to not mack on Leah all over his beloved boat — and if JJ had his fingers crossed behind his back for that second clause, well, John B didn't need to know.

They'd gotten an early start on the day, heading out alone to a vacant spot on the water, cooler packed with beers and snacks, and wide grins on their faces as they finally got to have a complete, fully uninterrupted time with each other. The water calm and cool, lapping against the boat gently, and the sun warming everything around them. The marsh was the picture of serenity.

Y'know, if it wasn't for JJ's incessant bitching.

"Baby," he whined, drawing out the word obnoxiously, flopping down onto his back next to her.

The second he'd parked the boat, she'd made a big show of stripping down to her bikini and JJ's mind, literally existing in the gutter sometimes when it came to his girlfriend, had been very interested to see where all of this was going to go.

Only for Leah to lay herself out on the front of the boat, announcing that she wanted to get some sun before doing anything else.

Leah's head raised only an inch from where she had rested it in her arms. She was on her stomach, stretching like a cat in the sun every so often. As much as she adored the water, she didn't want to look like a ghost in the middle of July.

Adjusting the hat on her head (which was actually the one JJ had been wearing before she snatched it off his head), she gave him the same exhausted look she had seven minutes ago. "What now, you big baby?"

He narrowed his eyes playfully at her, rolling onto his side so he could look at her. "Is this all you're planning on doing today?"

It wasn't, but with the way he was pestering her, it might as well be her new plan. "I told you I just wanted like ... half an hour to tan and then we could go swimming. You can literally start without me if you're than antsy to get into the water."

What JJ wanted was for her to get off her ass so they could get in the water together and spend time together. Look, when it came to being around other people, JJ was affectionate, sure, but the way he was with all of his friends. He was never really all over her and never tried to be the only thing she focused on.

But one thing Leah had learned about how he acted when they were alone? He was kind of an attention whore.

Most days it was cute. Today it just made her want to shove him into the marsh.

"You said that ten minutes ago."

She snorted, raising a brow at him as she peeked out over her arm. "What do you have against me laying out in the sun and relaxing, Maybank?"

"As much as I'm enjoying this view," JJ said, shameless in the way his gaze trailed across her body, "I thought we came out here to have fun."

"I am having fun."

"No, you're being boring."

Another eye roll. "Big baby," she repeated. And then seriously, she added, "J, it's my first day off in a week, I'm tired. I'll play with you later."

"That's what she said."

Leah groaned, burying her head back in her arms. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

"Yesterday you said I was cute," he quipped, a grin on his lips.

She rolled her eyes. "That was yesterday, feelings change."

He scoffed, rolling onto his back in faux offense. Leah giggled against her arm before closing her eyes, thinking she'd bought herself a few more minutes of peace and quiet.

Until JJ decided to change his methods of persuasion.

She could hear him roll back over onto his side to face her, but he kept quiet as he scooted closer to her. She turned her head just enough to peek with one eye, catching a soft yet determined look on JJ's face. A hand was light against her back, tracing up her spine while a soft kiss was pressed to her shoulder.

She hummed happily at the affection and JJ was quick to notice the half hidden grin breaking across her lips.

"Feelings change my ass," he said, poking her cheek.

Leah snorted, before pushing herself up with one hand so she could lay on her side facing him. "You're not going to stop until you get me in that water, are you?"

"C'mon, I don't want to look like an idiot swimming by myself."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "You think that's what's gonna put you over into looking like an idiot?"

His jaw dropped, giving her a small shove to her shoulder. "Mean."

Shaking her head at him, she laughed, figuring she'd tortured him enough. Pushing up into a sitting position, she quickly got to her feet. JJ looked at her questioningly as she stood above him.

She tried not to grin as his eyes once again trailed across her form with a dopey smile on his lips. Although, to be fair, she'd worn this specific swimsuit for a reason. Before they'd gotten together, JJ had once mentioned offhandedly that she looked pretty in it.

If Leah had started putting it in her bikini rotation a little more than her others ... well, that was between her and her dresser drawer.

She pulled the hat off, tossing it behind her. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she looked down at him in question. "Are we doing this or not?"

JJ barely had a second to get up before she faced away from him, taking a perfect dive off the boat and slicing into the water. He stood on the edge for a moment, seeing her slip through the water with ease.

Watching her swim had always been something he'd caught himself doing, even back when they were strictly just friends. The Pogues liked to joke that she could drink like a fish and swim like one, too, but JJ had always felt like he was watching a damn princess movie about mermaids with how easy she made it look.

When she started to resurface, he didn't waste another second before jumping in after her, letting out an excited whoop as he did so.

He broke through the marsh's surface only seconds later, shaking excess water from his hair and wiping a hand across his eyes. Only a few feet from him, Leah was bobbing in the water with a smile and he was swimming towards her before he could even realize he was moving.

JJ tugged her into him, hands catching her under the backs of her thighs. He pulled her in until her legs were wrapping around his waist and he was comfortably holding her in the water. She rolled her eyes at him, but draped her arms loosely around his neck, giving him an amused grin.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hey." Mischief was painted across his features as he stared at her and she had no time to question him before he was leaning in.

She fell into the kiss without question, melting into the moment like ice cream on a hot summers day. It was soft and sweet and tasted like warm beer and saltwater. If you asked her to, she'd stay there forever in his arms.

Eventually she pulled away, hands slipping to JJ's chest when he tried to follow after her lips like it was a game. He groaned in defeat, giving her a look that expected an answer of why their fun was being interrupted.

"Thought you told John B we weren't going to mack on the boat."

JJ grinned, that same mischievous glint dancing through his blue eyes. "We're not on the boat."

That was all it took for Leah to cup his face between her hands, leaning into steal another kiss.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty-eight: alex’s nineteenth birthday

It took Sam a few moments to realize that she was no longer back in her apartment, but at the new place in Hell's Kitchen. But she had found her way back to that safe place, even if the surroundings had changed to of great extent. She shook her head to rid of her dream world and she placed the journal down on the table before her.

Marla had slept through the throes of jet lag for what felt like forever, and swift phone call back to Jon and Marsha's place allowed her to figure things out from then onward as the summer days dwindled down to autumn there in New York. Indeed, Anthrax themselves would make their grandiose return to the United States in no time once another trio of dates wrapped up for them. A full four weeks off and they would make the flight back to Europe for a fuller stint of the tour, and albeit one that would last them all the way to Christmas. It almost felt as though Jon was making it up as he went along but she had to take his word for it, especially given the shakiness of the music world, and especially since Aurora and Emile hadn't returned to New York City themselves.

Her best friend had gone off with her new groom and in turn left her there at the altar herself. She sat there on a stool next to the phone on the wall and she listened to Jon talk about things there at the label. Marla still hadn't woken up and Zelda had long left the apartment to deal with her own affairs with the Cherry Suicides: the latter of whom did, however, leave her duct taped boots there at the apartment, right next to the coffee table. There was that vase there at the far end, right where Sam had been laying, and she yearned for those yellow tulips once again. Sam cleared her throat but she never said anything while she listened and hung onto every word.

She had to do so: she was the most important person there at the label at the moment next to Jon.

“Besides, Alex's birthday is coming up here in a few weeks time,” he added at one point, and that coaxed a smile out of Sam.

“He'll be nineteen now! Still just a hatchling.”

Jon chuckled at that, but Sam was serious upon saying that. Alex still was a young boy about to make his transition into manhood. A nineteen year old kid who had already put out an album and yet she still struggled to make her way through the art world. There had to be an opening of sorts, something that could potentially free her from the whole tedium of going to school and going back home. It wasn't just the change in surroundings, but rather there had to be an escape out of there somehow.

Something to move her away from it all, even if it was just for a little bit, even as she and Jon bode their goodbyes and she hung up the phone.

The thrill and rush of being on tour had something to do with it. Being out in the world at large. All the world was a stage after all. She had that itch she couldn't seem to scratch once again, and the first day of school had to prove to be something more for her lest she find herself bounding off of the walls of Hell's Kitchen once more.

She strode back out of the kitchen so as to fetch her journal. So much drawing in such a short amount of time, and she remembered that school was about to start off a brand new quarter and ultimately a brand new year within a few days time.

She returned to those three drawings that happened as if they each were a hallucination. Something that came forth from another part of her mind, a place that no one knew about before. But she had to keep it under wraps for the time being, for the time in which she had right there at that very moment, that precise moment in time, the very present. At some point, Joey needed to know how she felt about him, and if it had to take her utmost intimate pieces of art to do such a thing then she was willing to undertake that task.

Marla needn’t know about them, not until there came a time in which she had to talk about them for real. But then again, she had her privacy at her fingertips, the precious bit of privacy all to herself. She had her mind’s eye fixed on the three men among the pages of that journal, the three men whom everyone knew but also didn’t know at the same time.

A knock at the door caught her attention and thus jarred her back down to earth once again. She closed the journal and clambered to her feet. Lucky for her, Genie had curled up with Marla in the bed down the hall. Sam recognized that head of blonde hair down past the shoulders now tied up tight in a snug ponytail upon her head coupled with the doll-like features.

“Oh, hi, Bel,” she greeted her.

“Hey! Is Marla up?”

“Nah, she's been out like a light for the last day and a half. I think she got up once after you left the morning after. What’s going on?”

“A little bird told me that it’s about to be someone’s birthday soon,” she replied in singsong voice. “A certain boy who happens to play guitar in the only five piece band for miles.”

“Let me guess,” Sam started as she let her into the apartment, “Jon told you.”

“I won’t tell,” Belinda giggled, and then she shut the door behind her, and she turned towards Sam with her eyebrows knitted together.

“She got up once after I left,” Belinda echoed her. “Only once.”

“Yeah, Marla’s just been wiped out lately because of the damn jet lag,” Sam answered, and she tucked her hands into her shorts pockets. “I've been sleeping well, though.”

“I have, too—wow.”

“So what'd you have in mind for little Mr. Alexander?” Sam took her seat on the arm of the couch closest to the door.

“Well, I was thinking that—since he's a guitar player—maybe you and I can look into playing around with leather and make him a new strap?”

“Ooh, yeah! Like you can craft out the leather and I can paint on designs and whatnot on there. That's a great idea, Bel!”

“We'll have to do some reading, of course, but it's definitely something I've thought about in the past. Getting into leather work. It's just something that fascinates me.”

“It sounds fascinating—like glass work.”

“Well, since Marla isn't up, I'm thinking maybe you and I can go over to the book shop up the block here and find something about that.”

“I'll take it,” said Sam as she reached for her purse on the hook behind her. “Totally nice day for a walk, anyways.”

“Right?”

Without another word, the two of them headed outside to the hazy gray afternoon and they made their way up the block to the book shop in question. Sam thought about that one place that she and Cliff had gone to down by L'Amour all the while, even as she and Belinda looked up the books in the crafting section, tucked back in the far corner of that main room. She gazed on at the beading books and the paper crafts, and she thought about Joey all the while: on the front covers, those beads arranged in all those arrows and points made her think of Native American baskets.

And then she remembered that Joey's birthday was coming up as well, exactly two weeks after Alex.

“Hey, Bel, you wanna do something for Joey's birthday?” she asked her.

“Sure!” Belinda then turned her attention to her from a book she had swiped from the shelves. “What'd you have in mind?”

“Something Native American related. You know, the whole leather work guitar strap thing but with something that's faithful to his heritage, though.”

“Okay—well, I'm reading this here and it's rather easy to figure out. It's getting my paws on a leather work kit is the real bitch about it, though. This thing here says a single hundred piece kit is almost fifty bucks.”

“It's worth it, though,” Sam pointed out.

“Absolutely. I think there is in fact a place for that—up the block here. Where I can get a couple of strips of nice leather for those two boys and just buckle down with the tools. I think you can get paints there, too.”

Indeed, the two of them headed back out, complete with Belinda buying that craft book as well, and then they further headed up the street to that craft shop in question. Just a walk along that sidewalk made Sam wonder about her own desires to break free of it all in favor of a change of pace. She peered up at the buildings that lined the streets and the hazy sun overhead. It was in fact home to her after all.

“I literally love how we can go just about anywhere here in New York,” Sam remarked as Belinda held the door for her.

“Right? Everything we want and need—right nearby. We can either walk there, or hitch a ride on the bus or the subway. We can give it all what for even if we can't find what we're looking for with these two boys.”

“I'm gonna give you what for if you don't wrap it up in paper,” Sam teased her, and Belinda chuckled at that as they stepped inside the craft shop: rows of shelves stood before them, underneath a series of soft fluorescent lights, and Sam was greeted by the fresh smell of new tools right there in their face.

“How 'bout you wrap the whole entire thing up in paper with a little bow on top?” she retorted back. Sam then stopped right in her tracks, and she took a glimpse over at Belinda and the mischievous look on her face.

“When you say 'entire thing',” Sam began in a soft voice even with no one else in that shop there with them, “do you mean his dick or his guitar?”

“Both,” Belinda replied without a shred of irony or hesitation.

“So you want me to wrap up his dick and his guitar in paper?” Sam asked her with a straight face.

“Yes? Yes.”

“Who're we talkin' about?”

Belinda nibbled on her bottom lip, but she never said anything. Instead, she lunged forward to the row of metal shelves right in front of them.

“Bel, who're we talking about?” Sam asked her again as she adjusted the strap of her purse, but Belinda paid more attention to the leather kits in front of her face.

“We's talkin' 'bout leather, baby,” she said as she took off the first one right over her head. She then turned to the spools of leather on the far side of the room.

“What color do you think they'd like?” she asked Sam.

“I'm feeling black with Joey and—creamy white for Alex. By the way, you didn't answer my question.”

“What question's that?”

“Who were we talking about back there?”

Belinda pursed her lips together and she never said anything as she picked up two small spools of black and white leather for the guitar straps in question. She then led Sam back to the front of the shop, past the single file of paints for the leather in question.

“We's talkin' 'bout leather,” she repeated again. “By the way, that book said that black can hold just about any color while off white leather looks best with jewel tones.”

“Yes, but—who are we talking about?” Sam corrected her as she picked out a quartet of bottles, one scarlet red, one solid black, one pure white, and one sapphire blue. And Belinda still never replied to her as she doubled back to the register and she paid for it right there. Sam shook her head the whole entire time she put down the money and tucked her wallet back into her purse.

Belinda carried the leather kit and the pieces of leather under her left arm, and Sam volunteered to carry something for her.

“I got it, I got it—by the way, I was talking about both of them.” She raised her eyebrows at Sam, who then looked on at her with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Talking about both of them,” she echoed her over the noise of the street.

“Yeah. Sam, Alex is of age now. You can do whatever the hell you want with him now.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But what?”

“I do not like the way you said the word 'but' just now.”

“Thinking about Alex's butt?” Belinda teased her as she adjusted the kit and the bag of leather with her free arm, and she gave her blonde ponytail a little toss back.

“Pfff, you wish,” Sam scoffed; she felt her face growing warm with embarrassment, or the warmth of the late summer sun.

“What, you don't think he has a cute butt?”

“I haven't looked.”

“Well, next time you see him—like at the party that they're throwing for him—you oughta have a look. Libra boys have nice rear ends—at least so I'm told.”

“Nice and round, I assume?”

“Maybe,” Belinda replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

Within time, they returned to the apartment and Marla still hadn't woken up yet.

“Well, let's see,” Belinda started once she had set everything down on the kitchen table. Sam took her seat next to her, and she gave her blonde hair another toss back even though she had no need to do so from the tautness of her ponytail. “—the leather has already been treated... I'm gonna have to cut these so they resemble to guitar straps. I'm gonna need you to help me. Even though it's gonna be a bit before their birthdays, and Joey's birthday in particular, I'm glad we're getting a head start on this.”

“I am, too!” Sam declared.

“Lucky for us, we have these special scissors just for cutting leather—do you know how tall they are?”

“Joey and Alex? Joey is about middle height, like I can look at him right in the eye.”

“How tall are you?”

“Five foot seven. I'm thinking he's five foot nine?”

“Okay. What about Alex?”

“He's a big boy, I know that much. I kinda have to look up at him. And I've seen him next to Chuck, who's pretty tall in his own rite—and I've seen him next to Joey, too.”

“And how tall is he in comparison to Joey?”

“He's taller. By how much, I don't really know, to be honest. But I know he's taller.”

“Okay—I'll see what I can do.”

Indeed, Sam watched her go forth with the leather scissors and the measuring tape and the pencil for two guitar straps.

“If nothing, I can make Alex's a two piece and I can find a buckle,” Belinda told her.

“Hmmm...” But Sam never went any further than that. Instead, she watched Belinda spread out the leather, twin black and white stripes before them on the wood. She picked up the pencil yet again, that time to sketch out the designs on the upside of the leather.

“Okay, so let's figure this part here will be on Joey's shoulder... and this part here will be on Alex's shoulder...”

She sketched out the ever so faint sketch of a bouquet of roses for Joey's strap, and then a cluster of something that resembled to tulips on Alex's strap. Sam looked over at the bottles of paint next to her: on one hand, she was glad that she hadn't picked out yellow for Alex's white leather. But then again, the very sight of those tulips made her think back to those drawings in her journal. Two pieces for a strap for Alex, which meant one of them had to find a buckle for it: Belinda sewed the ends of those off in place for a buckle, and then with the pick, she poked three holes into the larger part for the adjustment.

And within time, she took the awl and the hammer and began work inside of those lines.

She took her time in engraving into the black leather and then the white leather, but Sam didn't mind in the least. They were making something together for the two birthday boys. She propped up her chin inside of the palm of her hand as she watched Belinda ever so gingerly carve into the leather with that fine chisel tip, complete with a tap of the hammer head. The little continuous clink! that came out of the hammer's head didn't bother her in the least. The petals of the flowers all came to fruition even without a full color scheme: indeed, Belinda added a few more spirals and dots on Joey's leather for a more of a Native American look. She also added something that resembled to a Day of the Dead skull on both of their straps: the skull on Alex's strap had a flower tucked right behind it.

It took her most of the afternoon to completely fill out the engraving on the sketches on both straps of leather, but she managed to do it right there, right before Sam's eyes. A bit of work, for sure, but she could make it work.

“Gonna have to run a thread through these first,” Belinda said once she set the awl and the hammer down. “So they don't come unraveled and whatnot...”

The big fat needle and the thick thread. Even more time and at that point, the straps were stitched and engraved, and lay there in anticipation for the head of a paint brush.

“Okay, you ready?” Belinda asked her.

“Lemme get my fine tipped brush...” Sam doubled back to her room for that fine tipped paint brush in question, and she returned with that plus a wash basin for the paints. Careful not to get any extraneous paint on the nice leather, she kept her hand right over the engravings for Joey's guitar strap.

“Red and white roses,” Belinda muttered as the paint collected at the deepest parts of the engravings.

“And red and white roses,” Sam added as she added a kiss of white on the otherwise red petals in the center piece of the bouquet. The colors bled for a second before they dried out right there. “Red and black tulips for Mr. Skolnick—”

“And white and blue sugar skulls, too, I presume,” said Belinda.

“White and blue for Mr. Belladonna—black and blue for Mr. Skolnick—”

Within time, Sam had painted the leather and the sun had set over Hell's Kitchen. It made sense that the flowers would be in bloom and the sugar skulls would have their full color right there. Sam held the leather back on the table so they could have a better look at them.

“Beautiful,” Belinda remarked. “They're just... they're gonna love these.”

“Too bad we don't have a leather working class at the school,” Sam said, “I actually kinda like this.”

“I do, too! We can suggest it when school starts, though.”

The two of them leaned back in their seats and looked on at the leather before them.

“I'm kinda hungry, you want something to eat?” Belinda asked her.

“Yes please. I gotta feed Genie, anyways.”

 * * * * *

 School had started for the two of them as well as Marla in what felt like no time, and Sam wondered what exactly Bill had in store for her as she signed up for an appointment with him at one point in the future. Just so long as it didn't involve her working with something tedious like any of those general education classes: she was already taking three of those that term, and in turn less time to focus on the crux of her art degree. Marla assured her that it wouldn't be anything too serious, but then again, she herself had her focus firmly on her own senior project.

Meanwhile, Sam and Belinda had the leather straps placed in boxes and then wrapped up for Alex and Joey's birthdays in the coming days. For the first week of school, she had her eye on the daunting task of junior year of college and preparing for her even more daunting senior year, but she also had those two young men on her mind. She hoped that Joey would love his new guitar strap in particular: indeed, she thought of Alex's words about how he held his guitar during the shows of that North American stint. She knew that she kept it just between herself and him, but something in the back of her mind made her consider if Joey would question the length of it.

In the meantime, for the first two weeks of school and before Alex's birthday, Sam put in her final hours at the label before they were bought out. She had no idea what Aurora was going to do afterwards, and she sure as anything had no idea what she was to do with it, especially when school finished out for her. She and Belinda came to their spot up the street after school the last Friday afternoon of the month, and Aurora greeted them both a smile on her face, much to their surprise.

“What's going on?” Sam asked her as she put her arms around her.

“I'm pregnant for real now,” Aurora told her, to which the two of them gaped at her.

“Seriously,” the former blurted out. “Like, you're not messing with us right now.” And Aurora shook her head.

“Osegueda can relax now, I s'pose?” Belinda joked.

“Yes, he can!” Aurora proclaimed.

“When did you find out?” Sam asked her.

“Just a couple of nights ago. I was gonna call you, Sam, but I guess you and Marla have your work cut out for you this year.”

“Hell yeah, we do—especially me.”

“Anyways, I felt weird, like internally, and so I went out for a test.” Aurora set her hand on the lower part of her belly. “Bun in the oven, ladies.”

“Please don't drink at Alex's party next week,” Sam pleaded her.

“He'll be nineteen, so there's not going to be any alcohol there,” Aurora assured her, “and even if there was, I've got Emile to check on me for that.”

“By the way, where's his party even gonna be?” Belinda asked.

“The Zazulas' place. I'll come get you guys if you wish.”

Given Alex's nineteenth birthday took place on a Tuesday, Sam, Marla, and Belinda all had to hustle out of school following their last classes of that day. But Aurora and Emile waited them there at the curb in their car: a packed caravan en route to the Zazulas' house at the far side of town. At one point, Belinda turned to Sam with a twinkle in her eye.

“You got the—” Sam then took out the square package enveloped in pearly white wrapping paper and with a black bow on top from her hand bag.

“Right here.”

“You guys found a buckle for that thing?” Marla asked them.

“Beautiful platinum buckle—brand new, never been used,” Belinda told her, and she never went any further than that, which led Sam to assume that she found it in the garbage somewhere. The guys from Testament were all there, as were Scott and Charlie, and James and Kirk. Sam chuckled at the memory of Lars in the kitchen the first time she and Joey went there together as she held her and Belinda's gift to Alex underneath her arm.

Aurora and Emile made their way to the other side of the house, while Sam and Belinda took to that kitchen door. Alex himself stood at the far edge of the house with a brown glass bottle in one hand: he and Greg were talking about something.

He almost didn't look the same with those tight leather pants. The black curls dangled about his shoulders like the ears of a dog: his hands pressed to his slender but shapely hips didn't help matters, either. She pictured Alex strutting along like he meant it, with that black hair splayed all around his head, and that plume of silver strong and high like a lightning bolt.

It was right there that Sam wanted him, and she wanted to see him naked for real. To see him and Joey both naked.

He had passed the right age after all: she could dream about him the way in which Belinda had joked about before.

A teenage kid about to bid his teen years farewell, and he stared back at her from across the room. Even though he was still underage, he held that empty brown bottle in one hand.

She nibbled on her bottom lip at the sight of him but then she and Belinda bowed into the house together.

They were greeted by the warm aroma of freshly baked cake in the kitchen and a small cluster of presents on the table.

“Aw, just a little party,” Marla was saying as she signed the birthday card to him with a bright red pen.

“That's really all he wanted,” Chuck told her. “Party with us, and then he's going upstate with his parents and his brother tonight. Gonna be up there for the rest of the week after this.”

“Quick little party with us and then his parents are taking him out to dinner right afterwards,” Eric called from the next room over.

“Yeah, that's it.”

Sam then turned her head and she realized that Alex and Greg were a few feet away from there. She could walk past the back door and have a better look at them, but there had to be a reason behind it. Chuck handed Belinda the card for a signing; the aroma of the cake was almost intoxicating, as if it was right there and ready to slice into for all of them. Sam then had an idea.

“I'll be right back,” she told Belinda with a raise of her finger, and she nodded in response to that. She bowed out of the kitchen and towards the back door, which hung right open for the stubborn warmth of the Indian summer.

She could walk by and make it look as though she was going to the bathroom or going to ask Marsha a question. Indeed, Sam strode on by so she could have a better look at the bottle in Alex's hand; he had turned to the side so it hung there right by his hip. It was sarsaparilla.

That also gave her a chance to look at the curvature of his thighs, albeit for a few seconds. She couldn't believe she had done that, either, given she already had a boyfriend. She had a boyfriend and he couldn't be there, and she couldn't tell him about it, either. She shook her head as she doubled back in the next room over and back to the kitchen to sign the card and to speak to Belinda. Lucky for her, Chuck had left the room so she stood there alone with her eye on the tags on each of the presents upon the table. Sam strode up to her with the warmth still fresh in her face.

“I need you to slap me across the face,” she said to her.

“Why?” Belinda laughed.

“I’m having—thoughts,” she stammered, even though they were alone in the room.

“Having what?”

“Thoughts. About… both Joey and Alex.”

“Like… what do you mean?”

Sam leaned in closer to her face and hunched her shoulders a bit.

“Thoughts,” she breathed right into her ear. Belinda looked on at her with a bewildered expression plastered on her face, and then her eyes lit up.

“Really? Sam, you little vixen! I knew you had it in you!”

“Yeah, but—Joey's kinda my boyfriend, though.”

“So? Just 'cause you got a boyfriend doesn't mean you have to restrain yourself to him. Live and let live a little.”

She sighed through her nose. Maybe Belinda had a point as she wrote “happy 19th birthday, Alex—with love, Samantha” at the bottom right corner of the card. Nothing fancy, nothing more, nothing less. She hoped that something would in fact happen that evening as she made her way back towards the front door for a bit of fresh air.

She recognized Frank's lush dark hair as he all but stumbled in through the front door.

“Easy there, big fella!” she declared to him, and he burst out laughing at that. She turned to the side and she almost ran into something slender but soft.

“Oh, hi,” she greeted Joey, much to her surprise.

“Hi,” he returned the favor and showed her a grin all the while.

“I didn't think you'd be here,” she confessed.

“I ain't turning down free food, y'know,” he told her.

“Okay, that makes sense.”

Joey peered over his shoulder for a second, and then he returned to her.

“I've been thinking of your lips lately,” he confessed to her in a husky voice.

“It's funny, I, uh—I have been, too,” she said. He lowered his gaze to her mouth and he moved in closer to her.

“Um—Bel and I made something for you—for your birthday coming up here,” she sputtered.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, you just—you just might like it.”

He showed her a little smirk: and she brought her eyes back down to those dark lips. She needed to kiss them. She needed to do something right there lest something happen there in the house that would wedge them apart. She closed her eyes and she leaned in closer to his face.

“Sam?” Marla called her. She opened her eyes and she stared on at Joey's face: his brown eyes gazed back at her, as rich and full as the earth underneath them.

“You're being paged,” he whispered to her. She turned around right as Marla emerged from the kitchen.

“Could you get Marsha, please? She's in the back of the house.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Sam returned to Joey, who still showed her that smirk on his face.

“I'll be right back,” she vowed to him.

“I'll be waitin' for ya,” he vowed back to her, complete with a wink. She rounded him and headed towards the back of the house. She was about to head into that corridor there when the back door swung open before her. Greg bowed in first, and then Alex followed suit. He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Oh, hi,” she greeted him.

“Hi—what're you doing?” he asked her with a grave look on his face.

“Oh, just—talking with Joey and now I'm getting Marsha.”

“Oh, I see.” He never changed his expression for a second, but she knew what he was thinking. She dropped her gaze to those lips and then to his neck and that prominent Adam's apple. She brought her attention only to his face instead and the puzzled expression there.

“Are—you alright?” he stammered.

“Yeah. Yeah, I just—I just—'scuse me—”

“Yeah, of course,” he assured her with a puzzled look on his face. She bowed into the back room there, where Marsha looked over something on the desk. She raised her gaze to Sam.

“Marla wants you in the kitchen,” she told Marsha.

“Cake's probably ready,” she replied to her with a twinkle in her eye.

Sam nodded and then she returned to the hallway, where Alex had gone off to somewhere else in the house. Indeed, she headed over to the back door, where Aurora was about to take her seat on the step there. It was almost too much to bear right there. She needed to get out of that house because the thought of Joey and Alex getting into it at the latter's birthday party was almost too much to bear for her.

“I need you to cover me,” Sam quipped, and Aurora looked on at her, stunned.

“Cover you in what?”

“No, cover for me,” she corrected her.

“Yeah, cover you in what?”

“Aurora!”

“What?”

“Cover for me. Keep people busy. If they ask about me, tell them that I had to run next door real quick.”

“Why would I say that?”

“Because you’re my best friend.”

“Well, yeah, but really why would I lie to people about where you went?”

“I thought you were only a few weeks pregnant?”

“I am! But what’s that got to do with it?”

“Ugh, never mind.” But before Sam could do anything more, Marsha surfaced from the room there and she gestured for Sam to follow her into the kitchen. Indeed, she helped Marsha decorate the long rectangular sheet cake, in particular the “happy 19th birthday, Alex” right in the middle with the royal blue icing.

“Dunno if Zelda's going to be here,” Marsha confessed to her as she finished the piping of the roses at each of the corners, “she said she probably won't make it because I guess the girls are hard at work right now in the studio—but let's get this sweet little party started, though.”

Sam struck the match and lit the wicks of the candles.

Alex had taken his seat at the head of the dining room table with a small white party hat atop his head: the little sliver of gray poked out from underneath the edge, and his face turned a soft pink with being put on the spot as Marsha set the cake down before him.

“What do you wish for more than anything in the world?” Louie asked him, and Alex turned his gaze to Sam at his right. He squinted his eyes at her, but he never said anything. He then leaned forward and blew out the candles in a single breath. The wisps of smoke faded into nothing before their faces as Belinda and Scott both clapped their hands in unison. He offered to slice the cake but Marsha insisted.

She handed him the first slice of vanilla and raspberry cake, and then everyone else followed suit.

“Wanna open your presents, young man?” Jon called from the far side of the room.

“Yes please,” Alex called back, “my parents are gonna wanna know what they got themselves into here...” His voice trailed off. Sam watched him dig into his cake, small bite after small bite. He ate slowly: indeed, she found herself doing the same thing. It was delicious cake after all. But she wondered what he had wished for before he blew out the candles.

Granted, if he talked about it, then it wouldn't come true. But it still made her curious nonetheless.

Jon handed him Chuck, Eric, and Frankie's gifts first, followed by that small square black and white box. The first thing he did before opening each of them was put the bows on his chest. He read the labels carefully right before hand as well, and he was careful to unwrap them as well with a sliding of his fingers under where the paper ended and the tape started, and so he peeled the paper off as opposed to tearing it apart. A new tuner from Chuck and Eric both, a Gary Moore shirt from Greg and Louie both which warranted a look of surprise from him.

“Wow, where'd you guys get this?” he asked Greg.

“Thrift shop. Lou found it when he and I were looking for new boots for ourselves, and I was like, 'dude, yes! He loves Moore!' So I got that for a nickel.” He neatly folded the shirt and placed it on the table next to him, and then he turned to that square box.

“From Samantha and Belinda,” he stated, and he opened the box.

“Miss Shelley and Miss Grimes,” Jon followed up as he headed back into the kitchen once more.

And Alex's face lit up at the sight before him there.

“Oh, wow!” He held it out from the box, and he looked on at that clean creamy white leather with his mouth agape.

“What is it, a belt?” Scott asked them.

“A guitar strap!” Sam corrected him. “A little bit of leather work from both me and Bel here.”

“This is gorgeous!” he declared as he held the strap before him and his eyes caressed over the design of the tulips and the sugar skulls. “Oh, and it's adjustable, too! This is absolutely beautiful, ladies—thank you!” Sam put her arms around him first, and then Belinda followed suit. He had a slender little body and yet he was as soft as childhood.

“Got our work cut out for us now,” Charlie confessed to Scott in a not so low voice.

“I know, right?” Scott retorted with his eyes squinted.

But Alex was more than happy to have it all around him for the time being, especially by the time Aurora took a step next to him.

“Now, I hate to draw the spotlight away from the birthday boy here,” she began, “but I wanted to tell you all that Emile and I are pregnant.”

“Aw!” Marsha called from the kitchen.

“We thought we were when we were over in England last month, but—it's official now!”

“Start of a new chapter in life and the start of a new life,” Scott declared as he raised his glass to them, but then again, Alex bowed his head a bit at that. Today was his day after all, and for Sam, that was oddly selfish of Aurora to do that to him. This was the second thing she had done that seemed so unlike her, at least for as long as Sam had known her. Thus she reached her hand towards him, just as Aurora began conversing with Marsha, Emile, and Scott about something.

“Happy birthday, though, Alex,” she told him as he took a sip of his sarsaparilla.

“Thank you,” he replied to her with a serious look on his face, “and yeah, thank you, everyone!” That warm blush returned upon his saying that. “When I'm done with my cake and my drink, I'm gonna call my dad and tell him that life is good right now.”

Indeed, he turned his attention back to Sam for a moment.

“And I go upstate for a whole week.” When he said that, he glanced across the table for a second. She followed his gaze and there was Joey at the far end. She sat closer to Alex than she was her own boyfriend; she then climbed to her feet and she strode on over to him as he finished the rest of his cake.

“Hi,” she greeted him, and he brought a napkin to his lips. Chuck burst out laughing at something and thus he moved his head in closer to her.

“Wanna do sump'n this weekend?” he offered her in a low voice.

“Up by your place?” she asked him.

“Your place and then mine,” he corrected her.

“I'd love to,” she replied in a low voice.

“I'll pick ya up after school,” he told her as he finished the last few bites of cake. Sam wondered exactly what he had in mind as she made her way back to her spot in between Belinda and Alex for the time being.

[grantyort]

Prelude IV: Relight

Post-Surgery: DAY ONE

[Sean sits in the hospital bed, legs crossed, staring into space when he hears a familiar voice.]

Joey: Sean, Sean Diaz? Well damn. I never thought I’d see your sorry ass again!

Sean: Geez Joey. Is that how you talk to all your patients?

Joey: Just the ones I like.

[Sean chuckles]

Joey: C’mere big man.

[Joey gives Sean a big bear hug]

Sean: How’ve you been Joey?

Joey: Can’t complain. These days, they got me up in hospice care. You’re probably the first person I’ve seen today that didn’t need their bedpans changed.

Sean: Sounds terrible.

Joey: It’s all not all bad. Lot of these folks have stories that you wouldn’t believe. One of my patients has lived through five wars and two depressions, tells me I’m a credit to my race.

Sean: Yeesh.

Joey: (shrugs) She means well. It’s almost flattering compared to some of the stuff I’ve heard. Been on this job almost ten years now, some people still treat me like I have no idea what I’m doing.  

Sean: That sucks Joey.

Joey: Yeah... Anyway, you seem to be doing pretty well for yourself. From what I heard, this procedure cost a small fortune. You must have friends in high places.

Sean: Yeah, something like that.

Joey: And no guard at the door this time. I assume everything got cleared up with the police? Not planning to make a break for it again are ya?

Sean: Nah, no daring escapes this time.

Joey: Good. I don’t think I’d survive another blow to the head.

Sean: Listen Joey I’m really sorry-

Joey: (laughs) Relax Sean! I’m just messing with you! It’s ancient history as far as I’m concerned. Say, did you ever end up finding that brother of yours?

Sean: Yeah. He’s actually coming to visit me tomorrow.

Joey: Can’t wait to meet him!

Sean: Famous last words.

Joey: So… what you been up to these days?

Sean: Mostly just cramming for the SATs, drawing, listening to music. Normal teenage shit.

Joey: That’s good to hear. I was worried about you man. You went AWOL after the hospital. I got police and Feds breathing down my neck for weeks. Then a month later, I hear about a couple of kids trying the border to Mexico on the news.

Sean: Sorry I never reached out. I just didn’t want to get you more involved than you already were-

Joey: You made the right call. They questioned me for hours. My apartment was filled with G-men, my girlfriend was freaked. I honestly thought she was going to dump my ass.

Sean: I’m really sorry Joey.

Joey: Don’t sweat it Sean, it was for a good cause. Besides, everything worked out in the end.

Sean: Yeah I noticed, how long have you been-

Joey: Almost a year now. We’re expecting our first baby in the summer.

Sean: Congratulations dude!

Joey: Thanks, but honestly, I’m kinda nervous, don’t think I’m ready to be a father.

Sean: You’ll be a great dad, Joey. You’re awesome at taking care of people.

Joey: You’re damn right. Speaking of which, we should probably take a look at that eye of yours.

[Joey takes off the bandage and gives Sean’s eye a thorough examination]

Joey: Well it looks a helluva lot better than the last time I saw it.

Sean: That’s good to hear. I wasn’t sure it would work.

Joey: Well it’s too early to say if your vision will fully recover. But at the very least you won’t have to walk around with a patch anymore.

Sean: Good. It’s hard enough finding a prom date let alone one that’s willing to go with a pirate.

Joey: Still with the pirate jokes huh? Hopefully, you’ll have to write some new material after this.

[Joey applies a new bandage on Sean’s eye]

Joey: And you’re all set. Now as much as I love our talks, I gotta make my rounds. Buzz me if you need me.

Sean: Later Joey.

Joey: See ya tomorrow Sean.

 [Joey leaves the room. Sean turns to look out the window. The door shoots open, and a small figure comes bursting in.]

Daniel: Sean! 

[He jumps onto the bed and into Sean’s arms]

Stephen: (out-of-breath) Sorry, I tried to stop him, but he outran me.

Sean: You okay Stephen?

Stephen: I am… just need a minute to catch my breath. The old ticker ain’t what it used to be- I need to sit down.

Daniel: Take it easy grandpa.

Sean: What are you doing here, enano? I wasn’t expecting you guys until tomorrow.

Daniel: I made grandpa book an earlier flight. I just couldn’t wait! 

[he hugs Sean again]

Sean: Haha easy. I just had surgery, remember?

Daniel: Oh right, s-sorry.

[There’s a brief flash, followed by a shutter click]

Sean: What’re you doing, gramps?

Stephen: Oh nothing, just commemorating the moment. Thanks to your brother, I finally got the hang of this newfangled smartphone camera.

Daniel (whispering): He had it stuck on selfie mode for days. Anyway, did it go? Is your eye…

Sean: I mean… it’s not 100% yet but I can sort of see again.

Daniel: T-that’s awesome! Can I see it?

Sean: Dude last time I showed you my eye, you almost cried. Besides, the doctors say I still need to keep the bandage on for a bit, while it heals.

Daniel: Right. That makes sense. Oooh this room looks cool. Do they have Netflix or a Playbox?

Sean: It’s a hospital, dude.

Daniel: Lame.

Sean: So catch me up. Did I miss anything interesting at home?

Daniel: Nah… Chris is still on that fishing trip with his dad so there’s no one to hang out with. Oh I almost forgot. He made you this card. Isn’t it awesome?

[Daniel gives Sean a hand-drawn “get-well-soon” card from Chris]

Sean: Yeah. It’s pretty cool. We can have Claire put it up when we get back.

Daniel: Grandma’s still in that feud with the lady from church.

Sean: Which one was that again?

Daniel: Agnes, the one who gives off major Lisbeth-vibes. She says grandma stole her casserole recipe for the church bake-sale. Lying bitch.

Stephen: Language!

Sean: Maybe one of us should try to smooth things over before it gets nasty.

Stephen: Hell hath no fury… lemme tell ya. I’ve been married to your grandmother long enough to know once that woman sets her mind on something… there’s no stopping her. Best to just let things run their course.

Sean: Claire can get a little… passionate sometimes. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen her lose her temper for real.

Stephen: There’s a fire in that woman. It’s part of the reason I married her. Just pray she never turns it on you. I hope I’ll never live to see that day, god willing.

[Sean notices Daniel circling the hospital bed, pressing his hand on various parts of the mattress]

Sean: (laughs) What are you doing, enano?

Daniel: Just trying to figure which side of the bed I want to sleep on tonight.

Sean: Dude. There’s no way this bed’s gonna fit both of us.

Daniel: The one in Mom’s trailer was way smaller!

Sean: Yeah well… you were a lot smaller back then.

Stephen: They have a nice area for visitors down the hall.

Daniel: But I want to stay with Sean!

Sean: I guess I could ask Joey to bring in a couch or something.

Daniel: Who’s Joey?

Sean: The nurse who took care of me after the accident. I told you about him, remember?

Daniel: Oh right! I can’t wait to meet him!

 DAY TWO

Joey: How are we doing today? Any headaches, dizziness, socket pain?

Sean: Nah it’s all good. Still getting used to having depth perception again. It’s kinda weird.

Joey: You’ll get used to it. Anything else to report?

Sean: Nothing major. I’ve just been having some really weird dreams.

Joey: We have a psychiatrist on-site if you need a professional to talk to.

Sean: Nah it’s alright, probably just the drugs messing with my brain.

Joey: Well your vitals look good. We’ll go over some basic tests. You know the drill.

(Sean covers his right eye and tries to read the chart. Joey then shines a light and asks him to follow along. Finally, he asks Sean to put the cap back on the pen.)

Joey: You passed with flying colors. The doctor will be in for a final exam tomorrow and then we can discharge you.

Sean: (sarcastically) Too bad, I was ready to become the first Mexican pirate to attend college. So much for being a trailblazer.

Joey: Good to see you haven’t lost that snarky-ass sense of humor.

Joey: Anyway, I’m taking my lunch now. Want me to get you anything from the cafeteria? Wait… don’t tell me. Chocolate pecan?

Sean: You know it.

Joey: I met your brother in the hall. Cute kid.

Sean: (deadpans) Give it a few days. Then see if you get a “second opinion.”

Joey: He does seem a little… “energetic”. But that’s normal for kids his age.

Sean: Yeah one minute I’m his favorite person in the world. The next, he’s off doing God knows what, and doesn’t want me “bossing him around”. You know how it is.

Joey: Can’t say I do. Grew up in a house with three older sisters. Guess I must have been the annoying one. Daniel’s lucky to have you looking out for him. Must be tough sometimes.

Sean: Oh you have no idea.

[Joey claps Sean’s shoulder, he feels a jolt shooting up his spine, everything goes white] 

(Sean sees a door marked: “Miranda A. Connolly, Hospital Director”)

Connolly: You’ve been a valuable asset to this hospital. Stellar feedback from all of your patients and attendings.

Joey: I sense a “but” coming.

Connolly: But, given the dubious circumstances surrounding your transfer and your past involvement with the law. The Board thinks it might be better for one of the other nurses to take this spot.

Joey: Please. I’ve got a kid on the way. We just bought our first house. Can you at least consider bumping up my pay? I haven’t gotten a real raise since I started here. There are kids coming out of nursing school that make what I make!

Connolly: The hospital has limited resources as it is, and the State just slashed our funding again. I just can’t justify raising anyone’s salary right now.

Joey: I break my back for this hospital, work extra shifts, get to know the patients. You promised me at the annual review that I’d-

Connolly: That was before this new information came to light. I’m sorry Joseph, maybe next year.

[Sean snaps out of his trance]

Joey: Sean? Sean are you okay?

Sean: Sorry, Guess I spaced out. Must just be the medication.

Joey: I can have the doctor come by and adjust your dosage.

Sean: I’m fine Joey. I swear. Weren’t you about to take lunch?

Joey: Oh right. We’ll pick this up later.

[Joey leaves the room, looking slightly puzzled.]

Sean: (thinking) W-what what was that? A dream? But It felt so… real.

[Sean takes out his phone and enters the name of the hospital, He finds their website. Under the ‘About’ section he scrolls to the Executive team bio. There is a photo of the woman he saw in the vision followed by a small blurb]

“Miranda A. Connolly is the President and Chief Director of Mt. Cedar General Hospital. She was appointed back in 2016 as Associate Director and has since made ground-breaking changes to the field of medicine and medical care. Under her leadership, this hospital was able to expand greatly, hiring new diverse staff members and vastly improving quality of care for all its patients.”

Sean: (thinking) Holy shit… it’s real. Does that mean I…?

Daniel: Hey Sean! What you looking at?

Sean: Dude! Don’t sneak up on me like that!

Daniel: I wasn’t sneaking. I was practicing my stealth!

Sean: Yeah sure.

Daniel: Are you looking at the new Playbox Pro? My birthday is right around the corner you know.

Sean: Birthday? It’s still January!

Daniel: Never too early to start preparing.

Sean: (rolling eyes) Yeah cuz everything’s always about you.

Daniel: Oooh I bet you were watching those dirty videos again. I’m tellin’ grandpa!

Sean: Hey hands off my phone you little-

[Daniel tries to grab Sean’s phone. Sean wrests his hand away. There is another a jolt]

[Daniel stands in front of the vending machine, staring at the jumbo chock-o-crisp. He looks around to check that the coast is clear. Then he waves his hand causing the chock-o-crisp to fall off the rack and into the dispenser slot.He gleefully retrieves it and devours the candy bar in a matter of seconds]

Sean: Dude, I told you not to eat any more chock-o-crisps! Do you want another trip to the dentist?

Daniel: What are you talking about? I haven’t had one in weeks!

Sean: Yeah sure. So you didn’t pig out at the vending machine before coming in here?

Daniel: How did you-

Sean: Maybe I have magic powers or maybe… you’ve still got crumbs on your collar.

Daniel: Aw, damn it. Promise you won’t tell grandpa.

Sean: Oh so you can tell on me but I can’t tell on you?

Daniel: (smugly) Exactly.

Sean: C’mere ya little shit!

Daniel: Sean stop! Ha that tickles. Quit it!

(After their little bout, Daniel curls up next to Sean, resting his head on Sean’s lap. Sean ruffles Daniel’s hair absentmindedly)

Sean: You ever wish you were… you know “normal” again?

Daniel: You mean not have my powers? Nah. They’re a part of me now. Besides, being normal is overrated.

Sean: (chuckles) I guess it is. But do you ever get that feeling like you thought you wanted something for a really long time but when you finally get it, it nothing like you thought it’d be?

Daniel: Uhhh… you mean like how I begged grandma to get me a PlayBox Live Subscription, but then the exclusives turned out to be shit? And now I have to act like I love it?

Sean: Yeah something like that.

Daniel: (yawns) Meh I’ll just ask for a gaming PC for my birthday.

Sean: Dude you’re like the greediest ten year-old I know.

Daniel: How many ten year-olds do you know?

Sean: Uh… just you and Chris.

Daniel: So, you want me to be more like Chris?

Sean: Wouldn’t hurt.

Daniel: (imitating Chris) “Only the purest of hearts may wield the power of Captain Spirit!”

Sean: Guess that rules you out.

Daniel: (playfully) Shut up.

DAY THREE

Doctor: Okay Mr.Diaz. I want you to follow the light. Look to your right, up and to the right. Good, good, excellent pupil response.  Now look at the chart, cover your right eye and read this line.

Sean: Uh… A, O, E, P… T? Sorry I can’t really make out the last one.

Doctor: That’s okay, it takes time.

Doctor: Now this is probably the last thing you want to hear, but I recommend that you wear a patch over your right eye. It’ll be temporary of course, just until you learn to see with your left eye again.

Sean: (laughs dryly) And here I thought my seafaring days were behind me.

Doctor: You know… pirate actually wore patches so their eyes could easily adjust to the darkness and see below deck- Sorry my son’s going through a pirate phase.

Sean: I know the feeling. My little brother’s been through every phase imaginable.

Doctor: Kids, you gotta treasure every moment. Because before you know it, they’ll be all grown up, ready to go off on their own. Look at me, rambling on. Anyway, I signed your discharged papers. They’ll schedule you for some outpatient care in the coming months.You’re almost ready to go. 

Sean: Sounds good.

Doctor: And you’re sure you don’t want to get do something about that nasty scar? A good-looking kid like you, it would be a shame to-

Sean: That’s okay, I think I’ll keep it… as a reminder.

Doctor: Alright but if you ever change your mind, I could refer you to a great plastic surgeon.

Sean: Thanks Doc, for everything.

Doctor: The pleasure’s all mine, Mr.Diaz. The groundwork we laid here could help hundreds of other patients in the future. We are making history. Your nurse should be along in a moment to help you get discharged.

[Sean sits in quiet contemplation. Reflecting on his dreams and new “vision”]

Sean (thinking): Be careful what you wish for... 

Joey: Looks like everything’s good to go. Remember to use your eye-drops-

Sean: Twice a day. Yeah Joey, I know.

Joey: Guess it’s goodbye again. Don’t be a stranger this time okay?

Sean: I won’t.

Joey: Here’s my number. Call me if ever need professional advice or just want to shoot the shit.

Sean: Thanks Joey. Let me know how everything goes with the baby.

Joey: Oh don’t you worry about that. Soon I’ll be blowing up your phone with pictures.

Sean: Haha can’t wait.

Joey: Now hospital policy says I gotta wheel your ass outta here. For liability reasons.

Sean: At least it’ll be a smoother exit than last time.

Joey: (laughs) Get in the chair smart-ass.

Beaver Creek, One Week Later

Sean: Okay, you ready?

Daniel: (takes deep breath) Alright. Show it to me.

Sean: So… how does it look?

Daniel: Looks… normal.

Sean: You almost sound disappointed. Were you expecting a bionic eye or something?

Daniel: No. I just… it looks good. I like the scar; makes you look extra tough.

Sean: You think so?

Daniel: Yeah… totally badass!

Sean: Thanks, enano.

Daniel: You need a new codename, like Scarred Wolf or Deadshot Diaz!

Sean: Let’s leave the nicknames up to Chris.

Daniel: Hey! I make up awesome names too!

Sean: Whatever you say,“Superwolf”

[when-they-write-stuff]

I have a prompt for you if you’re not too busy with your WIPs. Stiles and Derek arguing whether Derek is uptight or not. To prove he isn’t Stiles dares Derek to kiss the first guy he sees, so Derek kisses Stiles much to Stiles’s surprise

I’m always down to write a Sterek prompt! And okay, this one is so cute, it had me going through a dozen different scenarios before I settled on one ;)

- -

The thing is, Stiles knew all about Derek Hale.

He knew Derek was an uptight Alpha werewolf who hated things like baby chicks and rainbows and chocolate. He knew this. He’d known ever since they first met and Derek had lobbed Scott’s inhaler at him like it was personally offensive or something.

Derek Hale— Mr. “This is Private Property” — Derek Hale was an uptight Alpha werewolf who needed to learn to relax. And Stiles was determined to teach him.

It started out with a water balloon fight. As most things do.

See, Stiles had started carrying around a packet of water balloons ever since summer started, but they hadn’t been for Derek. Not originally at least. They’d been for Jackson and occasionally Isaac, when he decided to wear a scarf in one hundred degree weather and Stiles felt he needed to be set in place.

But then one day during training, Derek decided to get grumpy about the pack taking a popsicle break. And Stiles knew something had to be done.

He attempted the peaceful approach at first. Read: the peaceful approach being him sticking one slightly melted blue popsicle in Derek’s face and insisting he enjoy himself for once.

“It’s blue raspberry, Derek!” Stiles said, poking Derek in the nose with the tip. Derek growled and tried to bat the popsicle away, but Stiles was determined. “Everybody likes blue raspberry!”

“I don’t,” Derek said, flashing red eyes at him. “Stiles, get that out of my face or I’m going to stuff it down your throat.”

“Fine, no blue raspberry. I’ll get you a cherry one!”

“I don’t want a popsicle,” Derek said, glaring. “I want a pack that doesn’t mess around and gets back in position when they’re told to. This is a training session, not a pool party.”

Stiles yanked the popsicle back with a frown. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Derek said, and flashed his eyes at the pack. A series of groans filled the air.

But one by one, the pack pushed themselves out of the shade of the Hale house porch and plodded back onto the lawn. Stiles clenched his jaw and turned away, stalking inside.

Derek didn’t even try to stop him.

But Stiles wasn’t planning to pout. Instead, he dug the packet of water balloons out of his pocket and started toward the kitchen sink. Lydia came in at one point, empty glass in hand, and proceeded to give him the most judgemental look possible. 

But Stiles only flashed her a smile and scooted over. To his delight, Lydia moved to his side and started to help. In less than ten minutes, they had a sink full of water balloons. All set and ready to go.

“You realize this is a bad idea, right?” Lydia said, glancing sideways. “Declaring war on a bunch of werewolves is basically having a death wish.”

“I’m not declaring war on the others,” Stiles said, grabbing two and turning away. “I’m declaring war on Derek Hale, the most uptight and grumpy Alpha werewolf to every grace Beacon Hills with his eyebrows.”

Lydia’s chuckle followed him. Stiles made it to the porch and smiled at Derek’s back, weighing the water balloons in each hand.

“Oh, Derek?”

Derek turned around with an unimpressed expression. 

But, seeing Stiles and the balloons he held, his eyes widened. In a second, Stiles had nailed him with the first one, the red balloon exploding against his unfairly solid chest.

The rest of the pack stopped training. Derek stood still for a moment and stared at Stiles, his chest now outlined nicely by his damp t-shirt, and Stiles chuckled nervously, lifting the other water balloon.

“Uh, cool the fuck down?”

“Stiles,” Derek said, eyes bleeding to red. “I’m going to kill you.”

“Only if you catch me first!”

Stiles yelped as Derek leaped forward and lobbed the other water balloon forward, catching him in the shoulder this time. Derek roared and started after him and Stiles squeaked even louder, stumbling into the living room.

Lydia watched from her place on the couch, one delicately manicured brow arching upward as Stiles ducked behind her. She closed her book a fraction and glanced up at him.

“I’m not getting caught in the middle of this, Stiles.”

From the other side of the couch, Derek glared. “Stiles, get over here.”

“No way!”

“Stiles, I’m not going to kill you. I just… want to talk.”

Stiles barked out a terrified laugh. “That’s what they always say, big guy, right before ripping out the side character’s throat or something. And I’m a side character! I don’t feel like dying today!”

“Stiles—” Derek started around the couch and Stiles scrambled in the other direction. Coming to a pause, Derek glared at him again. “Come here, now.”

“No way, you uptight grump! I’m standing for pack freedom! For token human rights! For popsicle breaks on days when it’s a hundred degrees outside!”

Derek’s eyes flashed again and he opened his mouth— but before he could say a word, another water balloon was sailing through the air.

This time, it wasn’t Stiles who had thrown it.

The balloon exploded against Derek’s head and his eyes rounded, mouth still wide open. Water dripped from his hair into his eyes and Stiles spun around, catching a grinning Erica standing in the doorway with three more balloons cradled in her arms.

“Hey, Batman, you looked like you could use a hand.”

“Catwoman, you precious, beautiful, amazing—” Stiles cut off with a yelp as she nailed in him the chest. The grin on her face turned feral.

“Unfortunately for you, it’s every man for himself.”

“Traitor!”

Erica cackled and took off out the door and Stiles scrambled toward the kitchen, only to duck back around the corner when a water balloon exploded against the wall where his face had been. Squawking, he peered around again, and saw Isaac smirking at him.

“Payback’s a bitch, Stilinski.”

“You have no right to use badass one-liners, scarf boy!”

Isaac started toward him and Stiles scrambled in the other direction, ducking through the second door that led to the kitchen. As quickly as he could, he scooped up a handful of water balloons and then took off toward the porch.

The front yard was chaos.

Scott had also gotten his hands on some when Derek had been threatening Stiles’s life and Jackson was half-shifted— which wasn’t good for anyone. Boyd and Erica were nowhere in sight, but Stiles wouldn’t put an alliance beyond them.

He started toward the edge of the preserve, back toward the trees as he kept both eyes on the lawn. And then the porch door opened again and he froze as Derek stepped out, arms laden with water balloons.

Stiles’s heart stopped. Red eyes cut across the lawn toward him and the smirk on Derek’s face could only be described as feral.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, turning around and fleeing into the trees. Lydia was right, this was a bad idea. He had a death wish. He wasn’t going to live to see another summer.

He wasn’t sure where he was going, but Stiles didn’t dare look back. He raced around the back of the house and started toward the basement door, but didn’t make it before something red was sailing through the air and hit him so hard in the shoulder, Stiles went stumbling.

He tripped over his own feet and went sprawling, all of his water balloons popping against his chest on impact. Stiles groaned and pushed himself up a few inches, before flipping around and gazing at the smirking werewolf who approached.

“Look,” Stiles said, scrambling back. “Derek, Sourwolf, my Alpha o’ Alpha, don’t you think revenge is a little overrated? I mean, come on, shouldn’t we be joining against the masses instead of turning on each other? Think about Erica! Think about Jackson!”

“I’m thinking about how you talk too much,” Derek said, towering over him. “I’ve told you that before, right?”

“I’d like to plea the first.”

Derek held one balloon over his head and let it fall, and Stiles yelped as it exploded in his hair. He glowered up at Derek before shoving himself to his feet.

“Fine, Sourpuss, hit me with your best shot. If only a little loosening up will finally make you unclench and eat a popsicle for once—”

“Seriously, Stiles?”

“Seriously what, you grump?”

One of the balloons popped in Derek’s hand, he was gripping it so hard. Stiles tried not to feel too threatened by that. “Why do you care so much? Why are you acting so juvenile?”

“Juvenile? Juvenile? Me, juvenile? You’re the one that refuses to like blue raspberry!”

“I don’t think that makes me—”

“No, Derek, no,” Stiles said, cutting him off. “You’re the big bad uptight Alpha werewolf who grumps, we get it. But it’s not that hard to unwind and enjoy yourself once in a while, you know. This is a pack house, not a training yard!”

Derek clenched his jaw, glaring at him. “I’m not uptight.”

Stiles huffed. “Sure.”

“I’m not.”

“Then go eat a popsicle.”

“No.”

“Go engage the others with water balloons.”

“No.”

“Then dammit, Derek, do something! Smile a little, make a joke. Eat a chocolate bar without looking like you’re ready physically dying. Give Jackson a hug! Kiss a stranger!”

Derek’s eyebrows flew up. Stiles close his eyes and thought about how far that’d just gotten before silently groaning. Slowly, he opened them again.

“I didn’t mean like, half of that.”

“Good, because those are all stupid and I’m not doing them.”

“Dammit, Derek, seriously? It is possible to go out on a limb once in a while and—”

Derek cut him off with a growl, moving forward. Before Stiles even had a chance to react, Derek’s water balloons were exploding at his feet, there were two hands on the side of his head, and Derek was kissing him. 

Derek Hale was kissing him. Like, without trying to rip his face off, kissing him.

Stiles froze and in a second, Derek was drawing back, eyes wide and apologetic. He looked downright shocked at his own actions. The man opened his mouth— no doubt to say something stupid— and Stiles couldn’t have that.

Before Derek could backtrack, Stiles moved forward and shoved their lips together again. It was uncoordinated, messy, and Derek growled again, which made Stiles shiver with nerves. He felt Derek card a hand through his soaked hair. There was water on the man’s upper lip.

“This,” Stiles said in a gasp, not willing to break away yet. “Was not what I expected when I said ‘go out on a limb’.”

“Stiles, shut up.”

“Do I taste like blue raspberry, Sourwolf?”

Derek kissed him harder and Stiles wondered if this was going to happen more often now that it was a clear method of shutting him up. He decided he really didn’t mind. Derek could shut him up whenever he wanted to.

But, because they were in a pack of assholes, a sharp whistle suddenly shattered the air, ruining the moment.

Stiles stumbled back and Derek’s face turned bright red as he spun around. Standing at the corner of the house was the rest of the pack, all looking surprised and disturbed. Other than Erica, that is.

She was grinning from ear to ear. And Lydia just looked unfairly smug.

They were also all holding water balloons.

“Uh, guys?” Stiles said, moving a step back. “I trust this isn’t an interference and those aren’t meant for us? Or at least not me.”

“Well,” Erica said, smirking. “They were meant for Derek but clearly an alliance has been made—”

Stiles was already running. He heard Derek bark his name and laughed hysterically as heavy footsteps caught up with him. Running faster, Stiles thought declaring war on a bunch of werewolves was both the worst and the best thing he’d ever done.

Derek left him behind without hesitation. 

Stiles was taken out first.

And he refused to acknowledge the Alpha’s presence until he kissed him again that night; and this time, Derek tasted like blue raspberry.

Things might have been forgiven then.

- -

Okay, now I can feel like I’ve been productive today. Thanks for the prompt, my friend! I had so much fun with it <3

(Support your overcaffinated (so much so) student writer? Seriously, I’d adore you guys so much). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

[missbeautyandherbeast]

Conflict of Interest

Raphael X Reader

Summary: Casey Jones was your childhood best friend, until he moved away when you went into middle school. Seemingly life times ago, what happens when he shows up in the midst of your new life? 

A/N: Okay so I’ve been meaning to write this one for a while, and it’s pretty angsty. Casey is a bean and Raph is well... Raph. But there is a happy ending I promise. Sort of. HEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS ARE IMPORTANT, anyway. I love you guys so so much and I’m so proud of you. No matter what you’ve done or haven’t done. Let me know what you think!

Tags: @brightlotusmoon​ @boatloadsofheart @legandarybeauty​​ @crazywritingbug​​ @bitch-kms @ravn-87 @just-a-casual-fangirl-011​​ @unicornjoos @stuckoutsideofthebox @ilikestuffproductions​ @whygz​ @coffee-addicti​​ @sugarspooks15 @leslieebee@serperiorkb@blossom-skies @fantastical-67impala-fangirl@coresan​ @big-banging-red​ @iceprincess2019​ @raphaeladdict​ @thirstyforvenom​ @merindagriese​ @depressedemo-152​ @bengewatch @corabmarie​ @bitemebro522​ @tmnt-queen​ @muleka-loka​ @violet-sky-96​ @curadopordeus​ @artemismohr18​ @thewhisperpen​ @xjupitermoonsx​ @bisexualbumblebeesstuff​ @merindagriese @oceans-daughter-3​ @dixonreedusfangirlforever 

“Yo, Raph, you ready to head out?”

My eyebrows furrowed slightly as I looked up from my perch on Raph’s lap as we watched an old 80s movie.

“Casey? Casey Jones?” I was grinning ear to ear as I got up.

“What? Y/n!? What the hell are you doing here?” He was beaming at me as he hopped over the couch pulling me into a hug.

“I could ask you the same thing!” I laughed. “Wow, small world.”

“Whoa, whoa, someone wanna explain what’s going on here?” Raph stood, getting protective, and if I didn’t know any better jealous. “How do you two know each other?”

“We grew up together. He lived next door.” I explained, a warm smile on my face. 

“And you two were friends?”

“Well, I mean she did punch me in the face,” Casey teased.

“You said I wouldn’t!” I argued back. “I’m not a pansy.”

“Yeah, Uhuh,” Casey rolled his eyes. “So, what are you doing here?”

I raised an eyebrow and glanced up at Raphael, who was tensed to fight. Overprotective baby. Realization flickered across Casey’s face.

“No way! She’s the chick you’ve been talking about!?” He asked Raph, to which I questioned him myself with the perk of an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” He grumbled, turning red.

“How many Y/ns do you know Case?” I teased.

“Fair point.” He smiled, “Man he’s right, you grew up real pretty. Why didn’t you do that when I was around? I would have asked you out for sure,”

“You had years CJ; besides it would have been weird, we were like family.” I rolled my eyes. 

“CJ?” Raph muttered. “He’s CJ?” He was so not enjoying this reunion.

“My mom didn’t like me calling him Case, so CJ, Casey Jones.” I explained. “I thought I told you?” I squeaked.

Raph didn’t say anything.

Casey looked me over and shook his head.

“Y/n Y/l/n, after all these years, look at you.”

I blushed slightly and looked down. I could feel the annoyance radiating off of Raphael in waves. It was almost tangible.

“So... you two have plans?” I redirected the conversation, looking up at Raphael who was thinking about something other than gallivanting on the rooftops of New York with Casey.

Raph huffed and rolled his eyes, pushing past the both of us and headed towards the exit, to the surface. I sighed softly and wrapped my arms around myself, shaking my head softly.

“I didn’t get you in trouble, did I?” Casey asked.

“No,” I turned back to him. “But you know Raph, he’s protective. I’ll talk to him,” I grabbed my jacket from the back of the couch and shrugged it on.

“No, I can do it, besides, it’s guys night.” Casey interjected.

I rolled my eyes.

“CJ, if you go out there you’re probably going to get punched in the face, and it won’t be by a ten-year-old girl.” I gave him a knowing look, slipping on my shoes. “It was really nice to see you though Case, we’ll have to catch up some time,”

I headed out of the lair, heading to the rooftops via the nearest fire escape, the brisk New York fall air assaulting me.

“Red!?” I called, scanning the rooftops. “Red, it’s me!

“Why aren’t you off with your best friend?” He dropped down behind me, almost growling. 

“Raph,” I turned and smiled softly. “You’re my best friend, you know that.”

“Do I? Because you seemed pretty cozy with Casey in there,” He spat.

My eyebrows furrowed as I studied him, trying to figure out what he was really feeling under the angry front that he put up.

“I haven’t seen him in almost ten years, we used to be best friends Raphael,” I paused as he turned away from me. “I’m... sorry if I hurt you. I just wasn’t expecting to see him.”

“I don’t want you to see him anymore,” Raph ordered.

“Excuse me?” I tilted my head, my stubborn streak flaring.

“You heard me,” He snapped.

“No, what I heard was you ordering me to do something like you have some power over me!” I folded my arms. “You can’t and won’t stop me from seeing my friend.”

“Won’t, huh?” He challenged.

“I won’t let you.” I narrowed my eyes. “You can’t order me around,” I grit my teeth.

He stalked over to me, staring me down, using his height and stature against me.

“If you like Casey so much why don’t you go and be with him?” He snarled.

“Because I don’t love Casey!” I growled. “I love you!”

“Coulda fooled me,”

I blinked at his words, hurt filling up in my chest as I took a small step backward. My arms, once folded in defiance, now wrapped themselves around me in defense and comfort.

Looking down I bit my lips, shaking my head.

After everything that I had given, everything that I put up with and gave to him... We had fights before. It was unavoidable with his temper and my stubbornness... but he never crossed a line like that. I didn’t even know that I had drawn a line like that.

“You... really think I don’t love you?” My voice was small, afraid. I didn’t dare to look up at him.

He didn’t answer. Maybe that hurt worse than if he did respond.

“I’m sorry...” I whispered and fled from the roof, fighting tears as I made it back to my apartment.

I ran into Casey though in my feat. Or maybe he was there waiting for me. 

“Hey, Y/n/n, what’s going on? What did he say?”

“Nothing Case... just stay out of it.” My voice broke, as a tear escaped.

“No, Y/n, come on, let me help.” He grabbed my arm and spun me around, holding my shoulder gently.

His brown eyes promised comfort. They promised summer days in the sun and climbing treed and laughs and safety. They promised home. It broke me.

My tears started to fall as I desperately wiped away my tears not caring in the slightest that he pulled me into a comforting embrace, or that Raphael would be watching. I needed a friend right now. I needed Casey right now.

“He said he didn’t think that I loved him,” I hiccupped into Casey’s shoulder. “He wanted me to stay away from you.”

“That asshole,” He muttered, rubbing my back. “Let me take you home, then I’ll go talk to him,”

“CJ, you can’t do that. He’s so beyond mad right now.” I fought back weakly. “You’ll get hurt... I don’t want him to hurt you too,” I whispered.

“I can handle myself,” He smiled. “Besides, nothing could hurt more than you breaking my nose,” He baited.

I sniffled a laughed and wiped my eyes.

“You’re the one who said I wouldn’t do it,” I argued weakly.

I led him as we walked along the dark streets of New York, and I couldn’t deny that I was glad that Casey was there. I couldn’t imagine walking home alone like this and not being a potential target.

We fell into a comfortable silence, walking next to another. It was like breathing being around Casey.

“This is me,” I whispered, pausing at my building door. “Thanks Case... please, just leave it for the night,” I begged.

“Yeah, sure, sure,” He smiled. We both knew that he wasn’t letting it go. I sighed softly.

“Thank you, Casey,” I smiled softly. “Despite the turn of events, I’m really glad that I got to see you again.”

“Same here,” He returned the smile and pulled me into a quick hug. “Night Y/n,” 

“Night CJ,” I gave and headed inside.

Closing and locking the door to my apartment, I leaned against it and rubbed my face, sliding down to the floor.

___________________________

“Raph, what the hell man!?” Casey hopped up onto the roof. 

“Fuck off Casey,” He growled, pacing and drawing out his sais.

“No! I don’t really give a damn what you do about me, but you hurt Y/n and that’s not okay with me!” Casey held his ground.

“Oh, and you think you know her now!?” Raph coked his head to the side. “She’s mine.”

“Then why are you treating her like shit!? She doesn’t deserve that. For once she got to be happy and have another friend in on the secret and you shut her down!” Casey yelled.

Raph growled and tensed to attacked. Casey just stood there.

“Hit me, break me, do whatever Raph, I don’t care, but stop hurting her. She’s my friend. She’s my family.” Casey’s voice was calm and collected as he remained defenseless.

He poised to strike. Casey flinched, awaiting the blow. 

“Raphael!”

They both turned to see you coming over the side of the building and running between the two. You were panting and determined. Your eyes like ice as you glared Raphael down.

“He’s my friend, and I won’t let you hurt him. Not over me.”

“Get out of the way,” Raphael hissed, keeping his eyes locked on Casey. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Really?” You snorted. “I don’t think that’s the case Raph. I really don’t.” 

His eyes flashed to yours, confused.

“What do you mean?”

 ____________________________

“You want to hurt me,” I bit out. “You want to hurt me like it hurt when I saw Casey again. You want me to hurt because you’re hurt.”

His eyes narrowed as my heart hammered in my chest and adrenaline coursed through my veins. We stared each other down, neither one giving in.

“You want to hurt him? You go through me.” I hissed. “Because you can’t hurt him without hurting me too,”

I watched as the resolve in his eyes unraveled and slowly, he sagged into a stance of defeat.

“Casey get out of here,” I hissed. “Now.”

“Yes ma’am,” I heard him mutter as I went over to Raph.

I didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t know how to make any of this right. Here were these two pieces of my life, once in perfect order, now colliding together into a jumbled mess.

Raph spoke while I was mentally trying to sort this all out.

“I... understand if you want to be with him over me,” He sounded defeated. 

There it was. There was what he had been hiding behind all the anger and fury. 

“If I wanted to be with him, I would have said yes to him a long time ago Raph,” 

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

I let out a little laugh.

“Everyone expected us to get together. We were childhood sweethearts you could say... and he did ask me out... in maybe fifth grade? I said no, and he moved away with his dad that summer.” I smiled at the memory. “God, he was a dorky kid,”

I looked up at Raph,

“But I said yes to you,” I wrapped my arms around myself. “The girl Casey knew... she’s long gone. But there was a time that she needed someone like Casey.” I looked over the edge to the city around us.

“And now?” Raph came up beside me.

“Now I need you,” I shot him a look. “Even if you are an asshole sometimes.”

He chuckled sadly and shifted sheepishly.

“Y/n, I’m sorry about what I said...” He admitted, timid. “I didn’t mean it. I know you love me. I do, I was just...”

“Scared. Hurt. I know Raph,”

“Jealous,” He corrected. “I was jealous, and I should have trusted you. I felt like I was going to lose you,”

“The only way you could lose me is by sending me away,” I whispered. 

“I’m sorry Y/n,”

I took a deep breath and nodded.

“I know,” I turned to him, “I know, but that wasn’t okay... I’m going to have friends. I’m going to have other guy friends and you need to be okay with that. Raph... you’re apart of my world... not all of it. I know that hurts but...” 

“You have a life beside me,” He completed. 

I nodded. 

“I’m really sorry Y/n, I’ll... I’ll work on it.” He promised. 

I gave a hesitant smile, wanting to believe him. Only time would tell. 

“Now what is this I hear about you punching Casey in the face?” 

.

.

Like my writing? Want more? Here’s my masterlist!

[eccentricextrovert]

In Defense of Jamie Wellerstein

Before I start with this post I have to preface it by saying two things. Cheating is never okay, and just because I believe that Jamie was overall the least at fault for him and Cathy’s relationship failing, it doesn’t mean that I’m not acknowledging that what he did was wrong. I’ll also be discussing this in chronological order (with the exception of goodbye until tomorrow) so if you don’t know the order I’d suggest that you look it up.

Shiksa Goddess

I’m going into this assuming you’ve at least seen the movie, so we’ll start with Shiksa Goddess. There’s two problems that a lot of people see in Shiksa Goddess. His childish demeanor, and the fact that he says “I think I could be in love with someone like you”. It’s easy to look at this line and assume that he never really loved her, which a lot of people do see it as. Something that makes just as much sense, and makes both things sound a lot better, is remembering that this is the beginning of the relationship. He’s probably not in love with her yet honestly, and yah he’s really childish and playful, but that’s because he’s deliberately trying to make her laugh. It’s exciting for him!

Moving Too Fast

I know I skipped I Can Do Better Than That but I’m discussing everything for that song under I Could Never Rescue You/ Goodbye Until Tomorrow. There isn’t any major controversies for this song that I can see so I just want to point out how much context this song gives Jamie’s character in all. He went from in the same place career wise as Cathy to suddenly successful in two seconds, and a lot of their issues stem from that problem. He calls Cathy mid song to say he’ll move in with her because that’s the logical next step. He’s in love with her, he’s now financially stable, why not move in together, right? Even though he wasn’t sure before, Jamie feels like it’s what he’s meant to do at this point, which is the case for a lot of his actions. He’s immature and a lot less experienced than Cathy when it comes to serious relationships, and he follows what’s expected of him.

Climbing Uphill

Climbing Uphill is the song that cements exactly why they don’t work, in various ways. Cathy’s extreme insecurity with herself is put on full display here, as well as her failures in her career. In no way is it her fault that she hadn’t made her big break yet, but the way she handles it is different.

Cathy sees her relationship with Jamie as a competition, at least in regards to their careers. She can’t handle that he’s already getting all of the praise for his work that she craves for hers, and she just keeps being put down at every turn.

It’s particularly telling that while he’s doing a reading of his book, all she can think about is her own insecurities. She’s at an event that’s about him and all she can focus on is how she has to be successful too, instead of taking a moment to support him. It’s something that happens a few times in the movie.

Another thing is the excerpt Jamie is reading. It’s about someone who’s so focused on what he’s doing, and trying to win, to the point where it’s suffocating, and he can’t even hear the person he’s competing with tell him “don’t let me win”. It’s an interesting parallel for Jamie and Cathy’s relationship.

The Schmuel Song

Okay so this song is really pure so there isn’t much to talk about, but it does show more about their relationship. When Cathy feels down Jamie is there to lift her up, doing whatever he can to make her smile, and telling her to quit her day job so she can focus on what she’s really passionate about. Jamie gives in the relationship, and throughout the movie Cathy just takes. It isn’t intentional, but the relationship isn’t equal.

A Summer in Ohio

Cathy defines herself by her relationship with Jamie, but resents other people doing the same. In this song she’s trying to pretend everything is okay even though she hates where she is, and she’s clinging to Jamie. Her relationship with Jamie gives her worth in her eyes, and she sees him as above her in a way, as evidenced in the lyrics: “Look at me, look at him, son of a bitch I guess I’m doing something right. I finally got something right.” She maybe miserable and stuck in Ohio, but hey, at least she’s married to Jamie. She clings onto this even further with the lyrics: “and Mrs. Jamie Wellerstein. That's me!” It’s ironic that she puts emphasis on her marriage to Jamie when all she’s done prior to this is reject the idea of just being a wife, but it makes her feel slightly better to think that at least she has him. It’s a very stark difference from Climbing Uphill.

A Miracle Would Happen

This song has been talked about to death, honestly. The only things I’d point out are that everyone has temptations, and he didn’t act on them at this point. Jamie was never prepared for people to be throwing themselves at him in any way, and he does stay faithful at this point because of his love for Cathy. He’s tempted, but he loves her and he shows it. Still a gross song though, I’ll admit it.

A Part Of That

Cathy keeps pretending everything is fine in their relationship, emphasizing further and further that she’s just happy to be in his life, when she obviously not. It’s an act. She’s unhappy that Jamie is so successful and that she really isn’t a part of that success, despite what she says, and the resentment continues to grow.

If I Didn’t Believe in You

Aaaaand here’s where I start having a lot more to say.

This is the point where it’s clear the relationship is doomed, if it wasn’t already clear before. Cathy completely shuts down here, giving up on the relationship. This song isn’t Jamie upset that Cathy won’t go to a party, it’s him frustrated because time and time again she refuses to support him in the same way he’s supported her, and though it’s the point that breaks the relationship ultimately, it’s also the point where it could’ve been salvaged.

In the song Jamie begs Cathy to just talk to him about everything, because he’s been there for her and wants to continue to be there for her.

“Is it really about a party, Cathy?

Can we please for a minute stop blaming

And say what you feel?

Is it just that you're disappointed

To be touring again for the summer?

Did you think this would all be much easier

Then it's turned out to be?

Well, then talk to me, Cathy

Talk to me

If I didn't believe in you

We'd never have gotten this far”

Jamie directly asks, even begs Cathy to just speak to him, and throughout the entire song she responds by leaving the room, walking away from him and the argument, not even speaking to him.

Jamie is desperately begging for Cathy to stay with him and just work this out, and she keeps shutting him down and shutting him out. He genuinely believes in her and in the relationship. This fight is the product of the entire musical, of every fault in their relationship, and he’s trying to say what he’s been pushing since the beginning. He believes in her. He’s been fine with giving this whole time because he knows she can be something special, but her own insecurities and doubt and jealously have been slowly eating her alive.

Every time he moves one step forward, she moves one step back. That’s the theme of their relationship. It’s everywhere, from the story structure, to the literal lyrics, to the excerpts from his book. They can’t both be happy at the same time. She’s been letting herself fall as he rises.

She may not ever say it, but all of her actions point to the conclusion he draws. She wants him to lose so that she can finally win. It’s not a conscious thought, or something she’d ever admit to herself, but it’s their dynamic. He gives and she takes. She loses and he wins.

He’s yelling, trying to reach her, but she keeps ignoring him. Even bringing up their wedding, and the promise he made to her, that they made to each other, does nothing. He begs her to put on her dress not to go to a stupid party, but so they can move past the fight. He’s the one that’s putting in the effort to fix things. Jamie is the only person who ever brings up the issues that separate them. Cathy just wants to pretend that none of their issues exist.

Nobody Needs To Know

I’m just gonna say it. I understand why Jamie cheated. I don’t condone it or agree with it, and I think the relationship should’ve ended long before this point, but his motivations weren’t inherently bad.

Jamie wanted to feel something. Cathy and Jamie’s relationship was incredibly toxic on both ends, and he was tired of switching between being iced out or having to pretend everything was fine. Jamie’s cheating is so clearly not about sex, but most people ignore that because of his earlier thoughts.

In ‘A Miracle Would Happen’ Jamie is longing to be with other women, but it’s clearly about attraction. The language he uses and the framing of all of the shots makes it clear that it’s about sex there. It’s easier to resist cause it’s just a pretty face or a nice pair of boobs.

In ‘Nobody Needs To Know’ it’s tender and remorseful. There’s not a trace of the Jamie we meet in ‘Shiksa Goddess’ who was so full of life. Jamie is tired, and he’s angry, and he just wants to feel something.

The way this song is directed is beautiful, and further helps illustrate this point.

In ‘Shiksa Goddess’ Jamie was confident, and things were fun for him. He was clearly dominant and he was constantly making jokes to lighten the mood. Everything is filmed to make things very bright. It’s clearly exciting for him.

In ‘Nobody Needs To Know’ Jamie is painfully aware at every moment that what he’s doing is wrong, but he can’t bring himself to care anymore.

His body language is consistently submissive. He’s being reassured. He needs comfort and he’s finding it in the worst place. He’s desperately clinging to any human contact, anyone that can be present, because Cathy’s stopped doing that. It isn’t even the fact that she’s physically away, but the lack of the calls that they used to have when she went to Ohio. Everything about his relationship with Cathy that he loved is gone, and he’s seeking anything he can get from anywhere he can get it.

“Cathy is waiting...

Look at us, lying here

Dreaming, pretending

I made a promise and I took a vow

I wrote a story

And we changed the ending

Cathy, just look at me now!”

He feels awful about what he’s doing and he doesn’t for a second try to justify it, acknowledging that his mistakes are deliberate now. Even just compared to other musical theatre songs about cheating (*cough* Hamilton *cough*) it’s so clearly not about the actual act. It’s interesting that Jamie is so villified, to the point where there’s articles calling him the “worst musical character ever”, when he’s so clearly remorseful.

See I’m Smiling

This is Cathy’s song to reach out to Jamie, at least in a way. She’s still pretending nothing is wrong, but she finally realized just how far they’ve drifted from each other.

The problem with Cathy is that even when she’s trying to reach out she’s still distant. I feel awful for her, but I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if she would’ve accepted his offer of coming back on Monday. Cathy cannot physically handle Jamie’s career getting in the way of things again, and it’s pretty much over from here. Ironically, this is the only time Cathy is open and honest about how she feels in the whole musical.

Cathy believes that Jamie is self absorbed, and calls him out on it, as well as his flirting. The “little girlfriends” comment is entirely justified at this point, but honestly? I wouldn’t call Jamie a selfish person. In every instance where he’s made things about him, it’s been about his career. He values his career, but he’s also been pushing Cathy towards hers.

The only instance in The Last Five Years where Jamie isn’t there for Cathy when she needs him is this, and it’s after she made it very clear that she doesn’t support his work. The only time Cathy ever took pride in Jamie was in ‘A Summer in Ohio’, which is the only time that she’s had something close to a success, and even then she hates what’s happening. Meanwhile, the only time Jamie hasn’t been there for Cathy is this. The entire movie all Jamie does is uplift Cathy to get every part of him eaten away, and this one time he chooses his career above her, and even though he tries to find a compromise she won’t listen.

Cathy is a good person, but at this point in her life a relationship with Jamie just can’t work. It’s been dragged on for too long, and if it keeps going it’ll consume both of them.

I Could Never Rescue You/ Goodbye Until Tomorrow

Jamie couldn’t face Cathy to leave her. If Jamie had tried to talk about leaving it would’ve ended up another fight that went nowhere, and another fight that nothing got done in. He still loved Cathy. If he didn’t still love her these songs wouldn’t have been combined.

Jamie left Cathy alone in a house she couldn’t afford, with nothing but a letter and his ring. It was a dick move, but it was the only way it could’ve ended. The letter was a call back to ‘I Can Do Better Than That’, and not just in the way that most people take it as. Jamie was literally saying that Cathy could do better than him, whether it be alone, or with someone else. Cathy couldn’t have continued to grow in their relationship, and neither could Jamie. They were stuck at at impasse. Their entire relationship was incredibly unhealthy and the only thing they could do was split.

Divorce is a long process. There’s countless papers to sign and lawyers to meet with, and Jamie left Cathy, not the other way around. He cheated on her and then left her. Cathy is a hundred percent getting fat alimony checks.

Jamie loved Cathy though. Jamie gave everything he had to their relationship, constantly picking Cathy up when she was down. Leaving her was probably the hardest thing Jamie did in his life, but he had to do it for both of their sakes. With Jamie gone Cathy can grow into the person she was meant to be. Neither of them will suffocate each other this way.

I just really don’t understand the people that claim that Jamie didn’t love Cathy. Everything he did was for her. He put everything he had into their relationship and got nothing out of it but being with Cathy. Even his book, the thing that drove them apart, the only thing he held above her, was dedicated to Cathy.

[sassypandacandy]

Candied Larkspur

Sooner or later, everyone comes to make a bargain.

The pre-law students are the hardest sell. They've read the fine print; they know the questions to ask, the verbal pitfalls to leap. They're her favorite ones to trick.

The English majors either come to her wary, or with stars in their eyes. The wary ones know there'll be a price to pay, one greater than her candied words promise. The starry-eyed ones would have been the first to eat from her table in the old stories.

Easiest of all are the scientists and mathematicians. They don't believe in her anyway.

She sits for one hour – no more, no less – at the table by the window, so the afternoon sunlight can fall on her pale topaz hair. She reads romance novels, or technical manuals, or outdated botanical guidebooks. The only other items on the table are a yellow legal pad, a blue pen, and a coffee cup filled with more cream than coffee.

These are the rules: You must bring a gift. When you have reached an agreement, you must sign your name on the legal pad. Then you must leave and never speak of your bargain again.

The first one today is a girl with curly hair pinned back by a thick butterfly clip. She has wet eyes and a sincere smile. There's a bottle of cheap moscato in one nail-bitten hand and a pack of Zebra cakes in the other. She loses her nerve halfway to the table and instead makes a beeline for me.

“Can I help you find something?” I ask, offering her my gentlest smile.

She clears her throat. “No, it's stupid.” She glances over at the table by the window, brow puckering. “She isn't...real, right? Like, she's not really---”

“That depends on you.” I can feel the heated brush of her gaze. Whatever I do, I mustn't look over. “How much you believe. How desperate you are.”

“So you know?” the girl asks.

I almost laugh. “Too much, and too late. If you're going to go through with it, tread carefully. Negotiate. Ask questions.” I lean in closer. “And above all else, remember: She is not your friend.”

The girl swallows and clutches her offerings closer. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

Satisfaction stirs within me, a lazy cat stretching out in the sun. “That's very wise of you.”

“But I still need help.”

“And you can have it,” I say, nodding in her direction. “But there's a cost, and it's not always worth it.”

The girl half-turns away before glancing back at me. “You must've seen a lot of people get suckered.”

“Honestly? I've lost count.”

“But she doesn't hurt you? Even when you warn people?”

“We have an understanding.” I shrug. “And people rarely listen to me anyway.”

The next one is a boy a little older, with tall hair and a golden smile. He does not even look at me; like the rest of his kind, he goes straight for what he wants. He drops a dark, understated bottle on the table in front of her and crosses his arms.

“I need to pass my English final next week.” His voice grates even from across the library.

She does not turn her head. Slim fingers play with the pressed larkspur pendant around her neck. In the right light and to the right eyes, her nails are clearly talons. “And what will you give me?”

I silently beg him not to say the words, but of course he does. “Anything you want.” To him, this promise is meaningless. Or rather, it has a very specific meaning: Whatever his money can buy her. But of course, that's not the way this is going to go.

“I want an hour of your day,” she says.

He shifts in place. Something has changed, although he won't listen when his instincts tell him so. “What does that mean?”

“My price is an hour of wakefulness, to be taken at my liking.”

“Deal,” he says, and I close my eyes. He will be one of the bad ones.

Paper rips. She has taken a sheet from her yellow legal pad and written out the terms. Only now, as he signs his name with three flourishes, does she look him in the eye. Will he notice the odd purple-blue shade of hers? Doubtful. “It is done.”

“Whatever, weirdo,” he says, tossing the pen down. He swaggers out of the library, confident in every step of the easy road ahead. The paper has already disappeared from her hands.

The third and final one comes as the sun is reaching its golden hour. She has a bottle of Bailey's and a small notebook that she clutches to her chest like a shield. “May I sit?” the girl asks. “Or is that rude?”

“You may do as you like,” she says, again without turning her head.

The girl sets the bottle down gently in the middle of the table and sits. The dying light catches on her earrings, silver woven in the shape of trees.

She turns her head now, attention caught. “Those are beautiful.”

“These?” The girl touches the earrings and smiles. “Thank---I mean, I'm glad you like them.”

She tilts her head. “How can I help you?”

“My mom's cancer came back last month. She just beat it in March, and her doctor doesn't think her chances are good.” Tears well up in the girl's eyes. “She can't do it again. I'd like you to heal her and make sure the cancer never comes back, in any way.”

“A classic request,” she says. “The price is a kiss.”

The girl draws back, her face considering. “Not that it wouldn't be the highest honor, but do I have to kiss you?”

“You may, although you are right to be wary of such a thing,” she replies. “The kiss may be with whomever you like, although it would satisfy me all the more if it were with a stranger.”

“Is there a time limit?”

“Before the new year.”

“Which new year?”

The edge of a pleased smile appears on her perfect face. “The Western New Year will do. But the sooner you fulfill your part, the sooner I will fulfill mine.”

The girl checks her notebook. “Are there any other requirements or limitations like location or duration?”

At this, she laughs. It is the soft summer breeze and the baying of midnight hounds. “There are not.”

“Will anything bad happen to me or my mother as a result?”

“That, I cannot say. Life is full of bad things. But none of them will happen to you as a consequence of this day.” That smile reappears, and she toys with her pendant. “In fact, I am hoping for something rather good. The world needs more bold acts.”

Nodding firmly, the girl says, “Then we have a deal.”

She writes out the terms, including everything they have discussed. I cheer silently for the girl; this is the best bargain I have seen in a long time.

If only we could all be saved by our wits and a little silver jewelry.

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

It is the final day before winter break, and therefore the final day for making bargains. There is always a line to reach her table this time of year, as desperation rises and whispers abound. She is the university's worst-kept secret.

The girl with the butterfly clip has come by every day. She stops by my desk to talk before settling in to study. She talks about her break-up, how sometimes the lovesick ache in her heart feels like it weighs a thousand pounds and all she wants is to be able to breathe freely. I never mention the way her backpack pulls to one side with the weight of a wine bottle, or how the seat she chooses always manages to face the windows.

I hate to admit I'm becoming fond of her.

The peace of the library is shattered by a slamming door. The boy who made the poor bargain last week storms in, his hair in disarray and his swagger gone. He slams his bag on the table across from her, causing another student to jump back.

“Bitch,” he screeches. “You made me sleep through my business final!”

She has not moved a muscle. “The price was an hour of your life. You signed the contract.”

“I needed that class to graduate!” he rages, sweeping his backpack off the table.

“Then you should have been more careful with your promises.”

The students' whispers are growing louder. A security guard arrives, though none was called. He is just in time to hear the boy threaten to kill her for this. The boy is dragged out, purple-faced and still screaming.

I calm the students as best I can. It's finals week, and someone always goes a little crazy. Eventually they laugh it off. But they don't know what I know: The boy will follow her tonight, looking for his revenge, and he will see things he was not meant to see. It will be all the reason she needs. They will find his body in the first spring thaw.

The girl with the butterfly clip stops by my desk to say goodbye. She has a family to see, and a bottle of wine to drink. She thanks me for my advice. I thank her for listening.

Finally, the library is empty but for the two of us. “A bountiful season,” she remarks, standing. The table in front of her is empty.

“It was, my lady.” I turn off my computer and gather my meager things.

“There was one who never quite plucked up the courage,” she says. “She will taste all the sweeter when I snare her next year.”

I pause with my hand on the library door.

“They are only humans, Delphine,” she says. One hand curls over mine from behind, the talons brushing gently over my unchanging skin. “But if you would like to make a new bargain...”

Ice seizes my heart. “No.”

“No?” she croons. “But you have spent so many long centuries watching. Surely I could not trick you a second time.”

“No thank you, my lady,” I say again, opening the door with a harsh clang. I hold it for her, eyes downcast as she glides by only inches away. She smells of sugar and shade trees, like always.

In the old days I thought often of killing her, with cold iron or rowan staff or thorny bush. But my courage failed me every time, until I looked up one day and a decade had passed. And then another. And then another. In truth, I had barely noticed. There had been nothing and no one there to make me take notice. Not until a girl with a butterfly clip in her curly hair had reminded me that life was more than a slow march of days.

I stop the library door just before it can close. “My lady?”

She does not respond, but I feel the heat of her gaze. I hold the door open for her, and she walks back into the library. She takes her seat and picks up the yellow legal pad from where it is waiting. I take the second seat. The last embers of the day land on her face, painting her eyes crimson.

“Why this one?” she asks.

I know the answer without thinking. “Because she makes me feel brave. And she deserves to have a heart free from hurt.”

Her eyes glitter. There can be no greater thrill than tricking one who knows all your tricks. “Now then. What will you give me?”

She was right before; they are only humans. And there will always be someone else willing to make a bargain. But if I have learned any lesson in all these years, it is this: Some things are worth the cost.

[letterstothemidnightsociety]

It may be 2020 and the world is slowly crumbling around us but if global pandemics, a U.S. civil war election, and murder hornets and now rumors of Putin’s resignation(???) aren’t sensational enough, it’s time for Sweeps! And I’m still watching Supernatural to avoid all my problems because, well. That should be obvious. 

Cas is all of us.

OH! and there will be no discussion of the events of November 5 because guys, I’m still in season 1 right now, I’m not there yet. But yes, I KNOW. 

Ok, so before we talk about Sweeps, let’s take a moment to appreciate that at this point in my Supernatural journey, we’re in the back half of season one, and that’s a real miracle for any tv show to get this far. Or at least, it was at the time, when a show could be ordered for the first 13 episodes and then be on the hook for the rest, or Back 9. Supernatural was lucky in that it had been picked up for the full season after episode 4, so there was probably more time to prep that Back 9 than a Front 13/Back 9 show would have been. 

BUT that doesn’t mean the pressure isn’t on! Cuz we’ve hit the mid season, we’ve come back from Christmas break, and now it’s Sweeps!

Friendly reminder that TV’s here to make money folks, and Sweeps Week/Sweeps Month are (were??) vital to a season’s success or failure.

It’s Sweeps!

Alright, we’ll back track even further: TV networks and TV stations - the local centers that actually broadcast the shows in a given market - make money by selling ad time. They set the prices for that time by how many viewers are hypothetically watching at any given hour of the day. That’s where ratings come in, specifically Nielsen ratings. Nielsen Media Research, historically one of the most important media research firms out there, has been collecting audience data since the 30’s. They used to cold call households and to ask what each member of the household were listening to on the radio. When television came onto the scene, Nielsen started also collecting data on who was watching what. Ultimately, they dropped the cold calling in favor of diary keeping. Yes, they would actually send out diaries to a certain number of households in a given market, ask the residents to report every show they watched in a given week, and then four times a year, they’d “sweep” the country, collecting those diaries. These diaries would then impact the rate for ad time in each of those markets. Sweeps weeks happened four times a year - November, February, May, and July. And in fact, Sweeps Week is really more like Sweeps Month since it would take a month to deliver diaries to the households and then collect them again. Now, we can gather that data electronically (that is, faster), but Nielsen still tracks viewers for the whole month.

Actual Nielsen Diary which actually lists that someone actually watched a rerun of Seinfeld on TBS. Actually. 

So what does Sweeps mean to the people actually producing television? Basically, it means you have to have some real hot sh*t in November, February, May and July. You’ll know you’re in Sweeps when the news stories suddenly get...wild. You know the ones - Killer Hornets in Your Area! When Hugs Kill! Is Your Government Killing You?? Oh wait, that may just be 2020. 

For non-news outlets, Sweeps means saving your big episodes for strategic times of the year. You may notice, dear reader, that Sweeps lines up with some key tentpoles in a traditional television broadcast season. The end of November is usually midseason/winter finale time. Midseason finales are a big deal for many reasons, namely making sure you leave your viewers with a desperate desire to come back after the holiday break, but it’s also a good time for getting those big Sweeps numbers. You may also notice that sweeps # 3 is in May - that’s usually season finale time. February, Sweeps # 2, is right in between and July is just before the doldrums of summer. Honestly, July feels like a weird time to look at ratings, but that’s cuz I was raised on TV and it’s just an unwritten rule that there’s nothing good on in Summer.

Ok, I lied - I’m gonna talk about “Despair”, for just a second, I promise, minor spoilers ahead. This episode aired November 5 2020. That’s the final Sweeps period for 2020. And Sweeps may not mean anything to a show in its final season, specifically in this season, but it pulled out some big stops. Declarations of Love and Major Deaths? Yeah, those are two key staples for Sweeps, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence they weren’t pulling any punches in this episode. I know COVID delayed production, but even if they hadn’t restarted airing the season in October, this episode would have aired during May Sweeps. It’s also a series finale, so Sweeps isn’t the only consideration but it’s gotta be some consideration. 

So let’s look at episodes 13 - 16, our February Sweeps Month episodes for season 1. What do we have? 

Route 666 - Aired January 31, the beginning of February Sweeps

Here’s an episode that felt incredibly dated, but also incredibly relevant to today. The fact that Cassie has to fight with the mayor to prove that Black people are being specifically targeted felt a little Too Real Roy. They mayor even gets defensive that Cassie implies he might be racist because how can he be racist if he has Black friends? Does he say those words exactly? No. But that’s kind of the vibe you get off that conversation. I mean, I think I spent most of this episode making fun of a Racist Monster Truck that’s out there killing people, but honestly, slap a Confederate flag on that bitch and you’ve got any given rally or protest in America right now. I would almost consider this a Very Special Episode of Supernatural, where our brothers (and by extension us as the audience) learn about racism and the toll it takes on people of color, specifically Black Americans in the South. So there’s that.

But more importantly, for Sweeps week in 2006 anyway, was THE SEX. Not only does this episode comment on race in America, but Dean has a girlfriend and they totally bone. I mean, we’ve spent 12 episodes with just two dudes being dudes. Has there been flirting with random extras? Yes. Has there been any satisfying follow through? No. Because you save that for Sweeps. And it works. According to Wikipedia, “Route 666” had 5.82 million viewers the night it aired in America. The episode the week before, “Faith”, only had 3.86. That is almost 2 million more viewers who turned in to watch Jensen Ackles get tossed onto a bed with his shirt off.

Apparently this scene was a big deal because the network expressly told the producers not to have a lady on top and Supernatural just...did it anyway. Way to go, Supernatural, being progressive in all the right ways. Also, because I HAVE to say it, her name is CAS(sie).

Nightmare - Aired February 7

Next up is The One Where Sam’s ESP Comes Back! And boy was this rough. I mean, it’s nice and dark and also brings the show’s Mythology to the forefront, but it ends hella ambiguous. How Sweeps is it? Well, I imagine that the priests getup was included in the trailer as another Sweeps gimmick. 

And I can’t decide if including Beth Broderick, OG Aunt Zelda from Sabrina the Teenage Witch, is a big enough guest star to be a draw? 

I can’t not see Aunt Zelda

This episode feels like the show is really digging in to its Horror roots again. There’s some gorey special effects. There’s also a lot of small moments in this episode that I really liked, good acting moments and good character moments. It builds in some conflict between the brothers that never really gets resolved, just sort of deflected and kicked down the road for later. Is this Sweeps material? Maybe? The numbers on this are lower than on the previous episode - only 4.27 million viewers, but it’s also not as eye catching as Dean getting tossed on a bed with his shirt off. 

The Benders - Aired February 14

I actually really like this episode, even though I forget this is even in season one. This one’s got a nice reversal of the formula for the show - for the first time we see that the monsters killing people are just...people. Or, as I said in my notes for this one - “they’re hicks! They’re just hicks, guys!” They’re not Supernatural at all. And I LOVE the Cop Buddy that Dean picks up. Jessica Steen as Officer Kathleen is SO A+, I would definitely watch a spinoff show of her life.

Dean, what IS this? What is this conversation?

But there’s not a whole lot of gimmick here, not a whole lot of flash. This is just a solid episode, but not a lot of audience grab. The key to that, I think, is in the air date - February 14. It’s possible they stuck this here because they did not expect a lot of viewers, and in fact, they only had 3.96 million viewers tune in that week. Still a good episode though.

Shadow - Aired February 28

And here’s our final episode for February Sweeps. We’re finally getting back to the main story arc. Not only do we see the return of Meg, our most prominent antagonist so far, but we also get the first reunion with John Winchester! I’d say this is a Sweeps episode that’s geared more towards season-long-fans than first time viewers. There’s a lot that happens - 1) Meg returns and reveals her cards as a Big Bad (Medium Bad?). 

Oof. That’s...that’s SOME dialogue, guys.

2) John shows up and tells the boys that he knows what killed their mother (and also Jessica). 

Ugh. Can we talk about this scene and how John just like, tosses out a whole bunch of information in the douchiest expo dump I’ve seen in a while?

3) John shows up. 

These are moments that viewers who have been following along have been waiting for. There’s weight to the scene where Sam and John talk to each other for the first time in years - you feel the tension, you feel the fight that broke them apart, but you also feel the regret, the fact that both of them wish they could take back that fight even though they meant every word of it. It’s good pay off for the hours we’ve spent watching up til now. Of course, Dean deciding the team needs to split up again at the end feels like a real slap in the face. I’m pretty sure I felt it the first time, but definitely this time - John showing up feels more like a tease to keep us interested than any actual development to the show and it makes me feel like I’ve been tricked as an audience member. It feels like they only had Jeffrey Dean Morgan for, like, one day on set. I didn’t think his turn on Grey’s Anatomy was THAT big of a deal, but maybe it was? Maybe he was super busy? Or maybe the show just be like that. But the numbers are good - 4.22 million, a little up from the previous week. Not Dean Bones numbers, but not bad either. 

Here’s the thing about sweeps guys - 15 years later and they’re kind of...irrelevant. TV still makes money on ads, sure, and there are probably more lucrative times of the year than others - Summer is still kind of the doldrums of programming - but even broadcast networks don’t run the same way that they used to. As early as 2014, the networks were doing their best to compete with streaming services and on-demand viewing by offering new content all year round, not just during key months. Broadcast networks might still program around Sweeps but that’s not needed now. And Nielsen ratings have been under scrutiny for years, thanks to TiVo. TiVo, guys, not even online streaming. When an audience is not tied to specific time frames, how do you really measure the true number of viewers? Nielsen’s methods of counting viewers hasn’t exactly kept up with the way we binge and watch when we feel like it. As late as 2018, Nielsen was still relying on paper diaries, despite the fact that they’d been using more accurate and up to date electronic methods since 2005. And again, with year-round programming, it isn’t necessary to focus on a specific times of the year. 

In terms of business models, I think it’s also important to remember that when we’re not watching broadcast TV, we don’t mind paying directly for our new means of viewing. That’s how cable works, that’s how streaming works. I’ve been paying for Netflix through multiple price hikes and haven’t blinked an eye. I joined Disney+ early enough that I paid for a three year subscription. My parents are cable TV cord-cutters and they’re perfectly happy with a combination of Hulu+ and Roku. 

But a lot of TV still does rely on ad time to make a profit. And for those shows, it’s even more important to use measurement methods that encompass accurate viewership numbers. I don’t see a future where Networks use a cable station model (based on subscription fees) rather than on ad dollars. However, I can see a future where Networks do away with Sweeps.  Instead, they’ll just offer up that batsh*t sensational content all year round. 

[kashimos-hajime]

honeyed tea | q.b.

Summary: So your best friend get’s fired and you’re left to find out if he’s still alive. So what if you kinda have feelings for him you’ve repressed since the Dark Ages? All you want is a good cup of tea and your best friend back. You end up getting both.

WARNINGS: FFH SPOILERS also Quentin is a dramatic bitch!!! CUTE AS HELL!!! Fluff!! Mentions of smut but it’s small. Swearing ‘cause I have a fat potty mouth but it’s still real cute!!!  Pairing: pre-FFH!Quentin x gender neutral!Reader Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Something cute for those who still miss him (me)

For fuck’s sake, you don’t understand what Quentin’s problem is with you. First he’s been ignoring you, next he doesn’t show up to work. You’re supposed to be his best friend for crying out loud, and although you know that Tony taking Quentin’s project right out of his hands and slapping his name on it has got to sting, you thought he’d at least call.

“Quentin, it’s me again. Where the hell are you? Ugh, look, it doesn’t matter. Can you at least call me back?” Hanging up, you put your phone back down on the desk before opening your emails. You need to catch up on some work, even if the other half of your team is gone.

Throwing a longing glance at Quentin’s empty office, you shrug off the feeling that spoils your stomach like sour milk and focus on your computer screen. Fingers dancing over the keyboard, you log in and hit Send/Receive, watching as the inbox refreshes.

Nothing important pops up. New project pitches, rescheduling of meeting, oh, and an email that’s highlighted as important. Meaning it has to be from one of two people on the list. Tony Stark or Pepper Potts.

Opening up the email, you spot Ms. Potts’ email address and continue to read.

The sour milk in your stomach curdles, and suddenly it makes all too much sense on why Quentin hasn’t been coming to work. It’s because he can’t. 

.

You knock on Quentin’s door, rubbing your palms together with a chocolate box pinched underneath your arm. You can hear shuffling on the other end so you know he’s at home and you sigh impatiently, knocking again.

“Quentin, open up! I know you’re in there.” No answer. Knocking more insistently, you rap your knuckles hard against wood. “Look! I know why you haven’t been answering my calls, even though we’re supposed to be best friends, and I quit. I quit my job so can you please open up so we can talk?”

Immediately, you get the response you’re looking for. The door swings open to reveal your beautiful best friend, the one and only Quentin Beck. More affectionately known as idiot, genius, honey, among other things. Currently, he looks like none of those, and mostly looks like utter garbage. His eyes are shadowed by dark half moons and his skin has lost its colour. His blue gaze normally alight with intelligence is muted, a fire gone out too soon.

“Hey, Quen.”

“Do not tell me you did what I think you did,” he whispers and you smile slyly. He takes your silence as your answer and his eyes widen substantially. “What were you thinking?” He takes you by the arms, not enough to hurt but enough to make you look at him and you glare back, unable to reply. “What’s your problem?”

“What’s my problem?” you snap, breaking his grip on you easily. “You’re the one who got fired, and didn’t bother to call me. You’re the one who just ghosted his best friend!” You regret your harsh tone as soon as you say it because his expression falls. He looks so pitiful and hurt that your heart splits for him.

“That was your dream job,” he whispers and you hold up the box of chocolates you’d bought for him. You know chocolate is the way to this man’s heart, even though you already have a free pass to that zone, and he takes the box with wide eyes. 

A soft smile finds itself on your lips as your eyebrows knit together. Something hollow sits in your chest. “It was yours, too.”

It’s quiet as Quentin’s face nearly shatters but then he finds himself last minute, putting on some mask you wish he didn’t have. “You can’t be serious.”

“We come as a set, Quen. You think I’m gonna stand by and let Tony Stark steal your life’s work and then fire you?” You brush past him and shed your jacket, glancing around his apartment. His jaw is unhinged as he closes the door and you give him a fond smile. “Cat gotcha tongue?”

“You love working there. Stark was gonna give you a promotion and everything,” he says but you shrug and head to the kitchen, opening the fridge to find nothing but kombucha and half a loaf of bread.

“You seriously need to get this stocked, Quen. I’m only gonna be on this Earth for so long, and you can’t depend on your best friend for life.” You ignore his heated stare as he throws your chocolate on the kitchen island and leans against the marble, trying to comprehend your life choices. 

“How could you just throw away your life like that?” 

You turn on his electric kettle and pull the cabinet open to grab a mug. You could really go for a cup of tea.

“Are you even listening to me, honey?”

“I’m letting you have a moment,” you reply flatly, sending him a glance. “You need to get it out of your system.” Pulling out some chamomile tea you brought the last time you came over, you look for the honey you know he has somewhere. You love sweetening your tea with honey rather than sugar, which in part has lead to the ‘honey’ pet name the two of you have conjured up. The other part that contributes to it is the fact that Quentin finds you the sweetest person on Earth and likes to remind you often.

Finding it in its usual place, you set it on the countertop and wait for the water to boil, drumming your fingers against the smooth surface with a hum. Quentin’s still simmering but you’ve learnt to let him go through it over the years.

“Look, you’re gonna go back to Stark’s, and tell him it was a joke.”

“Quen,” you sigh, turning your head to see him storming around the island. He towers over you but you don’t care. He’s not frightening in the least. 

“You can’t seriously just let him take your life’s work, too.”

“Quen.”

“I mean, we can’t let Tony Stark just trample all over us—“

“Oh, my god. You’re such a theatrical bitch,” you mumble under your breath as the electrical kettle clicks. You grab the boiling water and pour yourself a full cup before pasting on a sunshine smile for Quentin. “You want any tea?”

He falls quiet.

He knows what the offering of tea means. It means ceasefire. No more arguing until the tea’s finished. Rule established after he realized your obsession with tea in senior year of highschool. A reminder that your friendship is more important than winning any argument. Also, an added bonus that it calms down fraught nerves.

His blue, blue eyes meet yours and his shoulders sink in defeat as you grab him a cup. Once you’ve steeped the tea leaves, you turn to him with puppy eyes. He sighs helplessly and grabs his cup, sipping it softly as you add honey to your own mug. Bringing the cup to your lips, you watch as Quentin retreats to the living space where he sits down on the couch and you realize how beaten up he is over this. He looks disastrous. There’s takeout boxes everywhere, and he’s still wearing days old clothes.

It’s kinda pathetic.

But also entirely dramatic, so you sit down beside your best friend, and make him look at you.

“Quen,” you begin, setting your mug on the glass coffee table. “You’re an idiot.” Your fingers tuck a tiny curl of hair away from his eyes and you trail your hand behind his ear, cupping his jaw. “You’re a genius, but an idiot. A helpless, dramatic, asinine, brilliant genius.”

“Please stop insulting me and complimenting me at the same time. You know it confuses me,” he mumbles and you kiss his temple. “He stole everything and called it his own. I poured everything into that project. Everything. God, I’m going to kill him. I swear, I’m going to kill Stark if it’s the last thing I do.” 

And at last, he begins to crumble in your hands. Bringing Quentin towards your body, you hold him to your chest as he curls up on himself. He runs ragged hands through his hair and you listen to his pointless rants, cheek pressed into his hair that smells like faded Dove gel and Old Spice, cedarwood and something they probably labelled as ‘Grizzly Bear Sweat’. Something stupidly masculine.

“I’m sorry, Quen,” you whisper and he looks up at you, torturously, with the blue blown out of his wide eyes. There’s only something dark, something sinister, and you run your knuckles down his face with a tight-lipped smile. “Tony is using it for good, though. You can be sure of it.”

“Good? Good? Who’s side are you on?”

“Quen—” You sigh helplessly. You hate this — arguing with him. He gets so fucking irrational it pisses you off, but you can understand the circumstances this time. He pulls away from you and your fingers snag on his sweater, making him look up from his mutterings. “Quen, look at me.”

“You throw away your life just to come here and shit on me, huh?”

“I didn’t throw away my life just because I quit my job.” Your tone leaves no room for argument. You want to see your best friend again, not this dark part you know lurks within him. His eyes lift and the spark returns to his eyes. You offer a hesitant smile.

He chews on his lower lip as you shuffle closer. You outstretch your arms and he huddles closer, allowing you to hold his head to your chest. His arms wrap loosely around your body and you rest your chin atop his head.

“That’s what you’ve been working for since… since forever, though,” he protests weakly. You stroke his head and kiss his hairline, chuckling. “You know it’s true. You work your ass off to get to where you want to be and you just throw away your dream ‘cause I got fired. It’s stupid, and—”

“My dream job is working with you, you thespian.” You place both hands flat against his face, drawing him back so he looks right at you. “You’re so dramatic. God, how am I even friends with you?”

“Seventh grade summer school for programming,” he mumbles and you laugh loudly. It’s so infectious it causes his own smile. “We were the only two who knew what we were doing.”

“Well, it was a rhetorical question,” you snort, kissing his forehead affectionately. He smiles against your palms, taking one of your wrists and pressing his lips against your skin. You melt, smile softening as warmth spreads from the point of contact to your chest. “I’d follow you anywhere, y'know?”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Too late now, honey.” You reach for your tea but then Quentin’s hands cup your face, turning you back to him. His eyes bear into yours so intensely that your heart races up to your throat, your voice dying in a mere squeak. “Quen?”

“I love you,” he states and you roll your eyes, patting his cheek softly. You can ignore the fluttering in your chest if he shuts up right now. His thumbs graze over your cheeks and you chuckle nervously. Nope. No feelings. Just me and my best friend. My best friend and I. 

“Love you, too, honey.”

“No, seriously, I love you.”

“Yeah, I get it. I love you too.” You lean forward to give him a kiss between the eyes but he stops you, hands trailing down your neck to your shoulders and then to your waist. His blue eyes blown out wide, something dark and smokey lurks within. Utterly hypnotic and deep as oceans, you blink to save yourself from drowning as your throat runs dry. “Quen…” Your voice comes out almost like a moan and you clear your throat as heat rushes all around your body. You’re flaring up, and by his slight smile, he can tell. “Quen, we said this doesn’t work.”

“We said this wouldn’t work because we’re too focused on our careers and that hasn’t stopped us from hooking up before.”

“Oh, so this is a hookup now?” you whisper, gaze flickering from his eyes to his plush lips. Your hand on his cheek slides to curl around his neck, fingers playing with tiny hairs along the nape as you swallow what’s left of your inhibitions. If you have to sit here another moment with your hot best friend’s hands on your hips without any action, you might go crazy.

“Well, I wouldn’t say hookup. Too crass.”

“Oh, you’re so classy.” 

That sly smile you love crosses his lips, sitting right at home upon his bearded face. One of his hands wraps around your waist, hauling you onto him and you let out a tiny squeal as he twists to lean back against the couch. Your legs bracket his hips as your hands find his shoulders to steady yourself on.

“We said last time was the last time.”

“Well, it was the last time.”

“Then, why am I straddling you?”

“I’m comfortable,” he says with a shrug and you laugh, raking your hair back from your face as you look down upon him. “If you don’t wanna, I’m not gonna make you, honey. You know that.” His expression is so honest, so endearing, that your heart melts for him and you caress his cheek, the beard bristiling against your palm.

“I want to, but we gotta make it quick. I wanna drink my tea.”

“Deal.” Chuckling, you lean down to press a testing kiss against his mouth. He smiles against your lips, kissing back with equal fervor before you depart for another destination.

You kiss his cedarwood and smoke skin, trail up his neck, land on his lips, and taste the sparks of magic and mint and mountain air. His hands work at your top and you giggle when his fingers brush against your bare skin on your waist as he twists you around, pinning you to the couch.

“The tea,” you whisper against his mouth but then his lips leave yours and you whine impatiently. He leaves an open-mouthed, sloppy trail of kisses down your neck as you kick your pants off.

“Stop thinking about the tea,” he murmurs, exasperated, and you laugh, threading your fingers through rich dark hair. The warmth of him against your collarbone makes you shiver and sooner rather than later, he makes you forget all about the tea.

.

The tea goes cold. 

Your mourn its loss by sourly pouting at your best friend from his bed from where he stands in his bathroom. He makes it up to you by peeling the sheets away from your body, and pressing minty kisses onto every inch of you, but it isn’t enough.

He sighs in defeat and goes to make you a new cup of tea.

“What kind?” he calls and you smile sweetly at him through the doorway of his flat — your shared flat now, you suppose. Some time between midnight and daybreak, on linen sheets and silk pillowcases, you’d decided. It should’ve been a decision made long ago, but it doesn’t matter how long it takes to get to the destination, just that you reach it, right?

“Earl grey, honey, thank you!”

He brings you a cup of tea, a kiss, and a promise that he loves you more than best friends do. You laugh, whisper that you love him too, and smile at the melting honey in your tea.

[schrijverr]

Cute Cuts

A compilation of cute Destiel moments that have been cut out of previous videos.

Part of the Famous Husband Verse, which is also a series

On AO3.

Ships: Destiel

Warnings: None, but I’ll be happy to tag something for you, no questions asked. Just hit me up

~~~~~~~~~

Dean was sitting in the middle of the screen, he waved and said: “Hi Hunters, welcome back. Today is a bit of a different video. I mentioned this in my recent Q&A video and you all seemed to love the idea, so here is some stuff about my husband I’ve had to cut out of previous videos. This is either from the videos we did together or from videos before the reveal when I said too much. Anyway, that is enough babbling from me, I hope you all enjoy it!”

The intro rolled, it was a drawn impala that came down the road, it stopped in the middle of the screen and the drawn Dean gave a wink to the viewers, then he sped off again and the smoke was bridge back to the video.

The first clip was from the reveal video, Castiel was looking into the little screen on the side of the camera as he mussed with his hair and huffed. He turned to Dean and asked: “Do I look okay? I want to make a good first impression.”

Out of frame you could hear Dean, who said: “You look absolutely stunning, huggy-bear.”

Then he leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

~

The next clip was out a video about something stupid Dean had done in college. He was in the middle of a sentence when he was interrupted by a knock. He looked to the side and called out: “Yeah, come in.”

“You’ve been recording for two hours, so I brought you a donut and some coffee.” Cas said as he got into frame to hand over the snacks.

Deans face lit up and he made grabby hands to the goodies. It made Cas laugh as he gave him the donut and coffee. Dean immediately took a sip right in the middle of Cas warning him for the heat. He spat out the sip when he inevitably burned the roof of his mouth.

Cas laughed a bit at him and Dean looked up with a pout and said: “It’s kind of your fault, so you need to kiss it better.”

“Oh, is it now?” Cas replied with a raised brow, but he was already leaning in.

~

After that it cut to them sitting opposite to each other while Cas was concentrating on Deans eye make up. Dean softly said: “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas replied absentmindedly not breaking his focus.

“You’re really cute when you’re concentrated.” Dean said, smiling as Cas spluttered and stopped what he was doing to hide his face in Deans chest.

Dean hugged him and kissed the top of his head, before releasing him to get back to what he was doing.

~

It cut to an older Q&A, where it was Sam and Dean driving in the Impala. Sam read from his phone: “I want to know something about your mysterious boyfriend, at least give us an eye color please.” he looked up, “A lot of people liked this one, seems like they’re really curious about him.”

Dean laughed: “Yeah, they always are.” he looked to where the camera was for a second, before turning his attention back to the road as he answered, “His eyes are this amazing sort of blue, you know. They’re piercing when he looks at you and it’s almost like they draw you in, fixating and you have to look. He’s really good at staring, so you’ll just get sucked into these beautiful pools of blue so bright they could rival the sky on a sunny summers day, but they’re also icy and cool if you manage to piss him off. In short they’re stunning and amazing.”

Next to him Sam rolled his eyes and commented: “That’s enough poetry about his eyes for today.”

Dean far off dreamy look disappeared of his face and was replaced by something sheepish as he said: “That was a bit much, maybe. Although it is all 100% true. I’ll probably cut this part.”

“That’s fair.” Sam replied, then he smirked and ribbed: “You really are whipped for him, dude.”

Dean blushed heavily and he said: “Shut up, like you’re any better about Jess, bitch.”

Sam pouted and shot back: “Whatever, jerk.”

~

Then it went to the next clip, which came out of the Q&A video. Dean was about to read something of his screen when Cas stopped him. Dean gave him a questioning look, but Cas just fixed his hair and murmured: “You ran your hand through it again.”

Dean nodded in understanding and smiled softly, before clearing his throat and pulling his attention back to the question.

~

The clip after that was out a solo video of Dean, he did his intro: “Hi Hunters, welcome back. Today-”

He cut himself off and turned back to the surface next to him where he sometimes put stuff he needed to show for a video. The space was now occupied by a photo frame. He picked it up and smiled down at the photo.

“Sorry, cut this out. I got this picture from the living room, so I can look at it. Cas will be back tomorrow from that school trip.” he explained, looking down once more.

~

After that it cut to a bit from the husband tag, it was the discussion which had gotten cut out. To refresh memories he had left in the first bit as well. It began with Cas whining: “How many times do I have to tell you that I am not a strange being.”

“When you can prove you’re not.” Deans shot back instantly.

Cas threw his hands up and said: “How can I prove I’m not immortal, without dying.”

Dean took a deep breath and said: “You could try and teleport or fly, if you are an angel you should be able to fly.”

“I am not an angel, Dean. I have told you this many times before.” Cas said.

Dean smiled and replied: “With a beautiful face like that you could’ve fooled me, darling.”

Cas blushed, but recovered quick enough, by saying: “Flirting won’t work as a distraction technique to avoid that you do not have any arguments.”

“I have arguments.” Dean exclaimed.

Cas gave him a look and Dean went on: “Like, History, you know too much about, like you were there when it happened.”

“I studied History, Dean.” Cas sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Dean squinted at him with suspicion and said: “I’m not convinced, babe.”

“Sure,” Castiel rolled his eyes, deciding it wasn’t worth it right now, “Shouldn’t we get back to the video now?”

Blinking confused Dean looked back to the camera with surprise, before smoothing over his features and getting back to the list of questions.

~

The next clip was from another story time video. It wasn’t long.

“So then me and Cas ran back like Hell, with this mad store owner on our asses.” Dean said, with a sparkle in his eyes, then he frowned and told the camera: “I said Cas again, didn’t I? Stupid, sorry, I meant Rick, my roommate. Let’s do that again.”

You could hear him pout: “Cas is much more fun.”

~

It cut to a clip from the husband tag, they were still prepping. Dean was fiddling with the camera and the focused wobbled a bit, but you could clearly see Cas sitting next to him. Once everything was clear, you could also see the love stricken look on his face.

Dean turned around and smiled as he asked: “What’s that face about?”

“Nothing, I just love you that’s all.” Cas shrugged.

The smile on Deans lips broadened as he replied: “Love you too, Cas.”, then he nodded to the camera and asked: “Are you ready?”

“Probably not, so let do it.” Cas answered.

~

The last clip was from when Dean had attempted to teach Charlie how to bake a pie to impress the ladies, which had been an experience to say the least. Nothing much was happening at the moment, they were just kneading the dough and at this point they had already captured some funny shots of that, so they weren’t really focused too much on the video itself.

In the distance you could hear a door open and close. Then a heavy thud followed by a long groan. Dean and Charlie shared a look, before Dean called out: “You okay over there?”

Cas’s voice flowed down the hall: “Yeah, just work.”

“What happened?” Dean yelled back, there was some shuffling after that and it was to be assumed that Cas had appeared in the doorway, which was just out of frame. When he saw the set up he quickly said: “Oh, you’re filming, I can come back later. Wouldn’t want to disturb.”

Dean looked at the camera and immediately said: “No, we have the stuff we need for now, we have time. Really. Come in. It’s your own damned house. I’ll cut it out, promise.”

“Don’t worry, just vent.” Charlie said from beside him.

Cas stepped into frame and gave her a short hug as he greeted her, before turning to Dean and nearly collapsing against him. Dean couldn’t really hug him, since his hands were dirty, but it seemed effective none the less.

Dean asked: “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“I had forgotten I put the deadline for three classes on the same day.” Castiel said, his voice muffled slightly, “Which means I have to grade 90 fucking papers all at least 3 pages long and I hate everything right now.”

Smiling softly Dean said: “That sounds like it sucks, angel.”

Cas looked up and complained: “It is.”

Charlie tried to comfort him: “Well at least we have comfort pie in a few hours.”

“Thank you, Charlie.” Cas said, then he sighed, “I think, I’m going to try and get started on the papers, good luck with your pies.”

“Same.” Charlie replied.

“Yeah, good luck.” Dean said, then he slapped Cas’s ass when he walked off.

Cas squeaked and frowned at the flour now staining his jean, leaving an obvious hand print. He quickly threw a bit of flour in Deans hair and dipped his hand in the flour making a hand print on Deans shoulder, before hurrying out of the kitchen.

A lot of fans remembered that, there had bee loads of theories that Charlie and Dean were secretly together with the jump cut and the sudden appearance of the hand print as proof.

Then it went to the end card. It was the same Dean from the beginning of the video and he said: “That was a lot of fun to put together, honestly. I hope you all liked it, if you did hit the like button and subscribe and hit that bell. Bye Hunters, see you on the road!”

Then the video ended.

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

God, Sam, didn’t lie about the

poetry

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

the casual i love yous make my

queer little heart hopeful bitches

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

OMG teachers hate their own

deadlines #karma

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

HE HAD A PICTURE WHILE CAS WAS GONE!!! I CAN’T!!!

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

I need a dentist now, damn

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

So far we got:

sunshine

angel

darling

huggy-bear

babe

Just how far does this mans

nickname vocab go??? Where

does it end???

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

He really tried to use the History

knowledge as an argument when

Cas studied History, like he’s

lucky he’s pretty, you know.

We stan a dumb bitch

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