#he's showing / talking to her about some art? THANK GOD gonna go smoke or something idk

[beann-e]

Haikyuu! Characters reacting to their s/o Fighting for them

Also i’m taking request !! go put something in the box :4

Tendou

he would enjoy it so much like he’d have a full on conversation while your doing it. He’d even start hyping you up In the back because he knows that’s all it takes to fuel your fire.

Only for you to find out the person who was hitting on him wasn’t talking about him but was talking about another guy and tendou only made it seem like they were so he could piss you off because he finds it so hot when your upset

Your eyes went pointed to the scene in front of you when you walked down from the bleachers. Feet heavy on the ground as you tried to contain your anger.

How did this chick get down here faster than you and why the hell was she talking to your boyfriend once again faster than you ?

You steps slowed as you walked up to them hoping to hear a little bit of the conversation “ yeah I thought it was really hot and I just wanted to say wow up close and personal y’know “

Your eyes widened hot ?

what the hell did she think was hot ?

“ I was uh I was up in the stands and I was honestly a little bit intimidated to come down here and talk to anyone actually —in the first place “ she laughed clutching her bag a little tighter when your boyfriend licked his lips before his teeth came down to nibble on his bottom one lightly, eyes feigning innocence as he listened to her “ especially you so this is like a big milestone for me “

you watched as your boyfriend smiled softly “ yeah I get it — really i’d be the exact same way with a crush I wouldn’t know how to act or even how to talk to them i’ve actually been there before so “

good good you thought praising tendou in your head at the fact that he was trying to slowly bring up the fact that he had a s/o. clapping for him in your head for trying to let the girl in front of him down easily

your body darting to hide behind a group of teenagers when you saw your boyfriends eyes lift up from the girl and look around as if he was checking for someone he must have been wondering where you were. breathing out a sigh of relief that he turned to look over your way too slowly only missing you by a second

“ oh really I assumed that— “

“ no no your good i’m not saying it in that way “

your face dropped ‘in what way ? ‘

“ I understand the fear of talking to your crush but trust me “ he nodded his head towards the girl In front him before he took a sip of water and smiled down on her “ you’ve got no reason to be nervous i’m right her—“

“ hi “ you waved steps quick on the floor beneath you and voice loud to show your presence “ yes y— yes you do “ you laughed reaching your hand out to shake the girls own in front of you

“ i’m y/n — the s/o— of 3 years —is there ? is there anything wrong did something happen to where he needed an emergency check up or something ? “

the sarcasm in your voice making your boyfriend smirk to himself at the way you just jumped into the situation all to protect your relationship it made him feel secure, happy even

it made him in a way feel greedy

your head coming up to look at tendou as you snaked an arm around his waist like he’d done to you in similar situations. Your other one moving to place itself on his chest “ babe are you ok ? are you hurt ? how badly to call a stranger over here ? “

“ baby no nothing like that she just wanted to congratulate me“ he locked eyes with you the slight smirk he still wore ignored by you due to anger at the drama unfolding before you and his next statement. His words coming out soft and sweet though they were meant to encourage his evil agenda “ before you “

“i’m sorry I wasn’t down here to congratulate him on his win so he must have looked lonely “

you shook your head in sadness at the girl “ and open but “ you smiled “ no he’s not—I understand the confusion you must be going through right now but its just miscommunication from your classmates—which leads me to wonder—please tell me what’s your name ? i’ve never seen you before and I bet your not aware of who I am either so introductions could help both of us out here “

“ oh uh i’m niccolo” the girl shook her head softly and wearily as you pulled back quickly

“ mm niccolo— niccolo “ you spoke rubbing the same hand youd just shook niccolos with down your shirt causing your boyfriend to smile to himself and his eyebrows to raise at all the knowing looks from his teammates about the shit storm he’d just put into motion as he planted a small innocent kiss to your forehead while winking to his teammates behind you

“ never heard of it you must be a first year ? “ your boyfriends head shook slightly as he looked to the floor thinking about how that might have been a little bit rude considering she was just a young girl maybe 16 at most.

His mind rolling with thoughts of maybe cutting the game he was playing short because of her age only for him to side eye you and take a sip from his water bottle again ‘ nah they’ve got it ‘

“ oh y-yes i’m new here—i’ve taken the phrase first year a bit too literal “ she joked smile seeming to be forced her hands twitching in nervousness

“ mm — I never would’ve thought “ you spoke sarcastically. Almost every first year knew not to talk to tendou after a game not unless you were down there already.

The both of you had established that as soon as the game is over your the only person who gets to say congratulations to him first since he explained that it means more to him to know that you’ll always be there no matter what he does

no matter if he wins or loses he’ll get to walk off that court and the first thing he sees is the person he loves most with their hands out waiting for a hug. he’s told you that in the moment he wants to feel like your the only one watching because it’s a private game played for you because he believes your so lucky to get to see your smoking hot boyfriend do blocks.

“ oh thank you no ones ever told me that I look older before may I ask why you thin— “

“ because your dum— “

“ haha um “ tendou stretched before speaking again “ because your just really pretty for a first year “ your body went rigid you almost felt like you couldn’t feel anything not even the heat that was radiating off your body

“ aw thank you so much that means a lot y/n was it? “ she smiled genuinely before laughing “ tendous so nice i’m really glad I came down here first before y’know all the fangirls came down “

she shook her head “ y’know I actually got scared because I thought you were one — I was like ahhhh here comes one of those scary stalker girls “ she laughed “ tendou was telling me not to be afraid since he knew you but I was telling him to be careful when talking to people like you —- once again I thought you were a fan girl so I mean you can’t blame me right?”

Yeah she was screwed this had went too far he was too late

“ y/n “ his voice was warning but you waved him off listening to the girl in front of you her voice sounding so confident and honest believing in everything she was saying. Voice pouring through and mouth still moving almost as if she had no filter

she looked to her feet “I doubt any of them would even have a chance with tendou though because— “

your body roared as she explained her reasoning.

You were only feeling this angry at her words because not only did she call you a tendou fangirl but she explained that even if you were one you would have no chance with him even though that’s actually how you two started dating.

Then for her to turn around and rub it in your face how she got downstairs before you oh god you were gonna have a field day with this little twerp if you didn’t find a way to put her in her place respectfully

“ hey um tendou do you think me and my fellow fan girl here can have some alone time just a small chat “

“ oh wow i’ve never had one of those before “ she smiled as tendou stood still wondering if he’d done the right thing by encouraging all of this or if he should just drop it or maybe even sit down and enjoy it

looking down at you cautiously a slight smirk on his face thinking about your face when he would get the chance to you the truth of the situation but only for it to drop as the girl across from him stole his attention away from you causing him to perk up a bit honestly surprised that she spoke again

Was she suicidal or ?

“ I think he may not be leaving because he isn’t comfortable with you yet—he told me earlier that we could be best friends so , he may listen to me more “ she smiled “ tendou I wanna talk to um —y/n so could you maybe give us some time alone —“ her smiling wider almost as if happy to call him her friend —before speaking “ I wanted to help you out “

‘ holy shit she’s testing my patience’

tendous loud laugh ripped through the gym as he grabbed goshiki and turned the both of them around to walk off words heavy and holding meaning “ yeah I know em’ —I know em’ real well physically and mentally trust me your going to have a bestie number two soon enough “

you watched as your boyfriend went to sit on the bench talking softly with goshiki as he put his hands in his pants pockets not paying attention to you two anymore

“ so wha— “

“ look “ you smiled “ i’m gonna be real sweet about this so we can tie this up in a neat little bow “ you pointed towards tendou

“ ‘m not a fan anymore he’s my boyfriend — we’ve been dating for 3 years now ever since we were first years. I met him through a fan club because he saw the art I drew for their game posters and enjoyed it. I told him I liked how passionate he was about something and how he had his own thing and did it in his own unique way that worked for him and then boom we ended up getting closer—closer then need be sometimes “

you sighed as you moved to close the conversation out “ look just please — I understand your a first year you may not know and that’s ok but ; me and my boyfriend like for me to be the first one who gives him a congratulations at the end of a match he never talks to anyone except his team until I do it — he says it’s like reassurance tht he’s doing good he’s had some stuff happen in the past that just — he needs praise and reminders that he’s doing good with his sport and I supply that he doesn’t want it from anyone else and I don’t want anyone else to give it “

you looked to the girl with sympathy in your eyes hoping you didn’t hurt her feelings she really was just a young kid “ it’s ok to have a crush I had one we all do at a point in our lives but right now your hitting on someone in a secure relationship ok ? start asking first please just to be safe in your future years “

her eyes went wide as she moved to speak “ mm I guess I was wrong “

you shook your head “ wrong ? excuse me for not understanding but wrong how“

“ I uh I assumed you weren’t one of those fan girls and I was wrong I did not mean to get in between your weird obsession just please do not harm him or anything like you guys tend to do “

your body blazed eyes lit up in a hard stare at everyone who now turned to face you hearing the girls loud words

“ again with the fan shit “

“ that is what you guys are called I will not call you his s/o if he does not know you “

“ HES MY BOYFRIEND YOU ASSHOLE “

“ wh— “

“ I tried to be nice to you but your not accepting it it’s like you want me to scream at you “

“ yeah babe she totally does “ tendous smile spreading slowly across his face at the way your hips moved to work with your mouth in showing off your evident pissed off mood

“ I know “ you screamed “ she just wants to make this harder for me “

“ duh “ his tongue coming out to swipe across his bottom lip eyes falling down to your hands that were clenched so tightly in anger waving around widely your pissed off expression sending heat traveling across his body

“ you have a child’s crush on him and I keep telling you I don’t mind but I explained to you to just be respectful and then you go and disrespect me again“

“ they are very lenient when it comes to crushes on me “

“ thank you baby —I try not to be rude because I myself was once a fan in a club for the team so trust me I understand but everyone is usually respectful I don’t understand how you “

“ she’s just a first year babe you have to explain it to her more “ he smiled thinking up a new way to see how far you would go for him “ like in depth “

“ I DID “

“ no baby you gotta get rough with her “

you turned with your eyebrows furrowed “ like fight “

he smirked at you body shaking at the way you whimpered out the words but moved to put your hair up anyways yet, again putting him first and your cloudy anger ridden mind second

god you were so hot whenever you showed everyone you’d do anything for him “ fuck — yeah baby your doing the right thing —don’t think about it too much “

you shook your head softly as you battled through it in your head tendou always knew how to get a rise out of you and how to make you do what he wanted you to more so for fun.

It didn’t take much for you to listen to him especially when you couldn’t think clearly because he was the only person there who cared for you and anything he did you knew would only be for his own entertainment purposes he’d never have you do anything bad or that put your safety at risk.

when you were angry —and had someone hyping you up and adding fuel onto the fire it was only 10x worse and tendou knew this

“ here y/n baby—let’s take this outside I don’t want you to get hurt by fighting in here come on you can do it out there “

“ tendou you asshole quit encouraging this shit“ semi whispered

“ I do not understand what is going on —i find myself with a loss of knowledge in this situation but I do feel as though tendou is in the wrong it is only a gut feeling “

the girl in front of you trembled at ushijimas voice—before looking to goshiki who held wide eyes as he waved to the girl hesitantly her eyes darting away and back to him eyebrows coming together as she looked around the gym embarrassed “ but he — he didn’t say anything about you—I didn’t know he didnt tell me “

“ wh—what babe — liar I call liar she’s lying baby — pleas— ow “

your head finally clearing up as you listened to his team talk about how much of a prick he was you reaching out and grabbing the top of his ear and bringing it down to your height while he screamed out in pain “ BECAUSE HES AN ASSHOLE “

“ hey baby I’m sorry i’m sorry but that’s — thats “ his hair went down to cover his face as he looked at you “ thats not cool “

“ I — I didn’t know “

“ but I told you twice “

“ and I — I haven’t had the best experienc— “ her bottom lip trembled before she took off crying when she met the young boys eyes behind her.

Goshiki shaking softly eyes lit up in confusion before he shook his head and pulled himself away from the embarrassing situation to run after her your boyfriend moving to wrap his arms around your waist from the back “ your so hot “

“ but I “

“ you were wrong though so I see looks don’t always pair up with smarts “

“ huh “

“ she wasn’t hitting on me “

“ but she “

“ she has a crush on goshiki this is her first time attending a volley’ game and she accidentally came down the wrong way so it landed her down here faster than everyone else”

your body stiffened “ she only ended up talking to me because I was going into the hallway towards the locker rooms when she for some reason was coming down the opposite way crying to me about how she was lost “

“ then you — you two were talking abo— “

“ she’s a bit fragile —- and she was explaining it and I saw how we were the same because she’s had a hard past too so she’s a bit wary around others—and hates confrontation due to drama at ‘er old school and she doesn’t know much of the people here because she’s a first year also she doesn’t talk much which kinda threw me off when she started having full conversations with you and trying her best to connect with you“ he shrugged “ must’ve thought you were cool —wanted to be your friend or some shit”

he smiled proudly at the fact that you could make people other than himself feel that comfortable around you him peppering kisses all around your face “ she was telling me how she thought goshiki was hot and when I brought up that I was his amazingly beautiful senpai she just wanted me to introduce her to him — she said she’s afraid of people and fangirls because she hasn’t had the best experiences with them she explained one time in middle school she got a bento box thrown at her because a guy from the volleyball team said hi to her “

your body immediately dropped “ you knew her whole life story and then some and let me embarrass myself “

“ well honestly you both did you just a bit more than her “

oikawa

he would praise you so much the whole time. He has fangirls and he loves when you show him why your more important than them. he loves for you to stop him and put them in their place while showing him his own.

He knows it’s not right to flirt with other girls but the excitement and pure happiness he gets when he watches you fight for him with such passion similar to his own for volley he loves it

“ oikawa ~~” A small voice called out before tucking a strand of hair behind their ear “ can we maybe get some photos ? “

holy shit it’s like everyday at this point

“ baby can I ? “

“ just go “ his eyes darted to the group before he looked back at you “ really —swear i’ll be right behind you pretty boy “

He smiled before running off to the group grabbing the pen someone held out for him and writing all over the billions of notepads girls waved in front of his face.

You knew it looked wrong for him to have a s/o and still entertain other girls or guys for that matter but, you knew oikawa. You knew exactly how he felt about them it wasn’t that he was interested or liked them it was that he liked their comments

he liked the attention.

He was someone who needed constant praise to feel like he was doing his best. Hearing all the cheers , all of the shouts of his name, seeing the signs and people that would come to games specifically for him only made him feel like he was human like he was real and talented—appreciated

You would never take that away from him you could never, when you two started dating you explained to him you knew how important his fans were to him and as long as he kept a certain line that couldn’t be crossed— that he would always come back to you. Everything would be ok.

You slowly walked up behind him leaving space for people to have a hard time differentiating if you were apart of the crowd or with him but you were still close enough to hear the whispers of how hot he was and honestly he was.

He had the muscles—the beautifully glowing skin that others around you two dreamed of and to put a topping on the cake he was still sporting his ruffled hair from his earlier game. He was your dream man and you were lucky to even be able to stare at him behind closed doors or at least that’s what he told you whenever you walked into his room.

“ oikawa-san “

“hmm “ he spoke staring down on the girl that reached out to grab his arm as he was turning to leave

“ could I talk to you please “

his eyes darted to find yours locking on them when he finally found them. His mouth now moving to mouth a question as you shook your head lightly you’d give him five more minutes he deserved it and you wanted him to feel like he’d done a good job at his game today ,which he really did do, him only going back to the girl in front of you two

“ oh well I really wanna — i’m supposed to —“ he sighed out before he collected himself “ I want to take my s/o home before it gets too late I don’t want them walking alone at night “

“ oh s/o “ her voice dropped as he shook his head up and down “ correct of 2 years “

“ oh my um congratulations— to many more to many more with many more “ she rushed out quickly reaching in her backpack

“ thank you our anniver— “

“ could we get a picture “

he sighed before his smile spread only growing into a fake one lips going tight on his face “ yes of course just one i’d like to get on the ro— “

His breathing stopped as he felt the girl next to him lay her lips on his. The click of the camera making his eyes go wide as he shook. Oikawa to most wasnt one who was as submissive as he was with you. He was a bit more ‘ manly ‘ to other people but around you he always fell into submission especially when he knew he fucked up

His eyes slowly moved to find yours that flaming as you stared down the girl in front of him . You leaning against the wall only making him feel a shiver move down his spine.

Had he fucked up that badly that you weren’t even moving.

He kept looking between you and the girl in front of him eyes trying to convey his thoughts as they screamed

‘ look y/n she’s still talking to me — at this point she’s fucking with me not the other way around ‘

His mind went blank as you walked over your face made up into a stoic one voice coming out monotoned devoid of annoyance or any feeling at all “ your lips must be magnets or some shit“

“ excuse me “

“ oh no it’s just that Insee you’ve put your lips on my boyfriend“ your eyes creased at the girl before looking up and down in curiosity “ so I was just wondering if your big mouth was hiding a magnet or something — anything really to explain why you would put your dirty ass mouth on my rather pristine boyfriend “

Pristine ? his body went upright standing a bit taller ‘ hell yeah i’m pristine keep em coming babe ‘

“ are you not going to apologize ? “

“ I uh “ her eyes went up into sadness and fear as the courage that once swirled through her left upon seeing your emotionless stare. She’d just kissed your boyfriend and you looked like you were walking dogs or doing an everyday house chore “ i’m sor—sorry “

“ oh not to me “ you let out a small head nod over to oikawa “ I meant him “

“ oh oh um yes “ she coughed before she made eye contact with oikawa whos eyes were creasing as he stared down on the frail girl before him

“ i’m sorry “

“ no go on take your time “

“ i apologize that “

“ really I know it’s hard to apologize to someone as pristine as me“ your boyfriend moved to nudge you softly “ isn’t that right y/n“ he spoke as he tried and failed to wink down at you

“ uh yeah babe um “ you shook your head as your eyebrows furrowed before you returned to your earlier self “ wait what oikawa stop playing and fix this shit “

“ oh uh “ he straightened himself up at your words “ what were you suppose to be saying again “

“ oh I just wanted to um “ she turned to make eye contact with you before jumping a bit and turning away squeaking out her words “ i’m sorry for hitting on you knowing that you had a s/o “

“ oh ok that’s it? ” his body sulked as he looked to the floor

“ that’s it ? — you don’t care that she hit on you asshole“ you slapping his arm harshly before he whimpered at the contact

“ what’s wrong baby “ your hand came up to rub his back and arm while he pouted turning away from the both of you

“ I just wanted her to she was sorry “

“ ‘kawa she did we can go home now “

“ no she didn’t say it the way I wanted her to “

your hands fell from him as you let out a huff of air before turning to the girl in front of you and moving to whisper in her ear as she sat confused unmoving In her spot before smiling softly and speaking uncomfortably and regretting her decision to ask the male out

“ oikawa “ she coughed his eyes looking over at her while still holding up his dramatic show “ I just wanted to say i’m sorry for hitting on your s/o’s “

Her eyebrows furrowed before she looked to you who was mouthing the words and shaking her head in an ok motion “ pretty boy —“ he perked up at the words “I will never hit on someone of your elegantly pure , flawlessly clean , stature ever again “

Yes he made her embarrass herself by asking for more kind uplifting words more so to make himself feel better than for you. All the while he enjoyed the praise he received from not only the person he loved but the person he didn’t.

[goldenraeofsun]

A/b/o + celebrities and/or coffee shop 👀

Thanks so much for the prompt, Julesy, and I'm so sorry for the long wait! Part II should be up in the next few days, but hopefully this beginning 7k will satisfy for the time being 😘

Castiel is elbow-deep in suds when Jo plunks a medium to-go cup on the edge of the sink. “Thank you?” he says, bemused.

“It’s not for you, doofus,” Jo says, rolling her eyes. “There’s a customer out back,” she jerks her head towards the service exit that leads to the alley where they dump their trash and Ruby takes her furtive smoke breaks. “I need you to take this to him.”

“Out back?” Castiel repeats dubiously, craning his neck to catch sight of their on-site baker, Benny, who is busy kneading focaccia dough for tomorrow’s sandwiches. Benny, full of southern politeness, doesn’t give any indication he’s eavesdropping.

Jo gives Castiel a short nod, her alpha scent flaring with irritation. “I’d take it out there myself, but he always talks my ear off, and Kevin still can’t draw a latte art that doesn’t look like a dick, so…”

Castiel frowns but nods, and Jo’s expression eases once she doesn't hear a challenge to her request. Still, he has to ask, “But why doesn’t he order at the counter like a normal customer?”

Jo takes a step back towards the door. “You’ll see. Just… don’t make a big deal of it.”

“A big deal of what?” Castiel calls to her, but she’s already disappeared out to the front of the cafe.

Castiel sighs and wipes his hands on a dish towel. He picks up the drink, sniffing curiously.

He nearly gags at the strong aroma of brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and apples all on top of espresso and milk. They definitely don’t serve that on the menu. Admittedly, Castiel hasn’t memorized the list of hot drinks they serve at Hunter’s Cafe, but this is an assault on anyone with a nose. He’s been their busboy and dishwasher for six months since his second year as a graduate student began, and Jo has only let him mind the counter three times, all as far from peak time as she could get.

But a job is a job. Holding the drink, he shoulders open the back door.

“Hey - oh, you’re not Jo,” a familiar voice says.

Castiel stops dead in his tracks because, despite the sunglasses, the baseball hat, and hunched shoulders, Dean Winchester is unmistakable.

Away from the limelight, Dean apparently favors soft-looking flannels over worn tee shirts and jeans. In one hand, he holds a half depleted sheaf of french fries. Stunned, Castiel doesn't immediately hand over the reason for his appearance.

“Whatever, is that mine?” Dean demands, zeroing in on Castiel’s cup.

Still beyond speech, Castiel dumbly hands the affront to coffee over.

After a muttered thanks, Dean takes a long drink. “Christ, this tastes even better than normal.”

Castiel inhales a surreptitious breath. It’s not every day one gets to catch the scent of Hollywood’s omega darling.

Not that anyone would know Dean's secondary gender just by looking at him. Dean stands a few inches taller than the average male omega - he has nearly an inch of height on Castiel, and Castiel is the dictionary definition of standard alpha physique.

While Castiel might not be Dean’s most knowledgeable fan, he hasn’t been living under a rock for the past five years. It was all over the papers when Dean was cast in his first alpha role. Dean wasn’t the first omega actor to do so, but he was certainly the most prominent. Castiel’s sister, Anna, an actual fan, spent a memorable dinner ranting about how all the prejudiced reporters on the press tour. Apparently they only asked Dean about the diet and exercise routine that transform into a “real” alpha, while, in the next round, his alpha castmates fielded questions about their characters’ moral code and complex development.

But, in the alley behind Hunter’s Café, Castiel’s nose is completely overwhelmed by the fryers of the fast food restaurant next door, the set of dumpsters directly to his right, and the almost offensively apple coffee Dean is currently drinking like his life depends on it. Dean could smell like old gym socks for all Castiel can tell.

“Where’s Jo?” Dean asks once he resurfaces. He jams a few fries in his mouth. Before he's finished chewing, he sucks down some more latte in an unholy taste combination.

“Busy,” Castiel replies. “We have a new hire, and so far Kevin can only draw genitalia on lattes instead of flowers.”

Dean guffaws, nearly inhaling his drink. Swearing unrepentantly, he takes his sunglasses off and rubs at his temple with his free hand. “Christ, I’m too hungover to laugh like that.” He squints over at Castiek before sliding the sunglasses back on his face.

Castiel stares. “If you’re hungover, why are you here at -” he checks his watch “-seven in the morning?”

Dean slurps at his fruity latte before he answers. “Got a meeting at nine. This,” he says, brandishing his mostly empty cup, “and a large fries are the cure.” His hands occupied, Dean ducks his head to fish a single fry out and holds it like a cigarette between his lips.

“That sounds disgusting,” Castiel says, aghast.

Dean inches the rest of the fry into his mouth. “Don't knock it ‘til you try it,” he says with a wink.

Cas blushes.

“Hey,” Dean says, a new thought coming to him, “What’s your name?”

Taken aback by the question, he answers, “Castiel.”

Dean mouths his name once, his brow furrowing at the new syllables. With a small shrug of capitulation he says, “Well, Cas, thanks for the drink.” He toasts him one before tipping the cup all the way back, draining it.

“You’re welcome, Dean.”

Dean grins. “I couldn't tell if you recognized me or not.”

“I did,” Castiel says, clearly unnecessarily.

Amused, Dean throws him a long, considering look. “You’ve got one hell of a poker face.” He unceremoniously shovels the rest of the fries in his mouth and balls up the wrapper. He tosses it with practiced ease into the waiting dumpster.

“Thank you?” Cas says, nonplussed.

“Thank you,” Dean says, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. “You’re the one who saved my hide.” He sidles forward and shoves a bill into Castiel’s slack hand. Without another word, he takes off out of the alley and onto the street.

Once he’s out of sight, Castiel unclenches his hand. Dean tipped him ten dollars.

* * *

“How is this even more pungent than last time?” Castiel demands, nose wrinkling as he sets a now clean muffin tin back on the shelf. It’s been a week since he met Dean Winchester, and hadn’t gotten so much as a whiff of apple pie since then.

He is alone with Jo in the kitchen, since Benny’s early morning shift ends at eleven.

“I added a caramel drizzle,” Jo says, her scent rising with her self-satisfaction.

Castiel stares at her in horror. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“’Cause I’m trying to see what his limit is, and so far - nothing,” Jo says, shrugging. “Get to it. He’s real grouchy if you make him wait too long.”

“And why aren’t you taking it to him?” Castiel says, eyebrows rising. “Kevin’s moved onto multiple hearts now. Admittedly, his first one looked like a labia, but he’s gotten much better.”

“But Ruby didn’t show up, so we’re short staffed,” Jo says shortly. Outside, Kevin yells something indistinguishable though the kitchen door, and Jo winces.

Castiel takes the latte.

Just like last time, Dean is waiting, wearing a different flannel but the same jeans with the hole above the left knee. He abandoned the sunglasses, since the clouds overhead cast the whole alley in shade. They’re hanging from the vee of his shirt collar, pulling the fabric down a tempting extra inch.

Unfortunately, the fast food restaurant next door must have just taken out the trash last night, since the alley reeks of stale bread and rotting fish patties.

Castiel lets the door slam behind him, unable to hold back his corresponding smile as Dean lights up as he sees him.

“Thank god,” Dean says as he reaches for the latte. “I was starting to think Jo was gonna stiff me.”

“We’re short staffed at the moment,” Castiel says apologetically, “so you got me again.”

Dean eyes him over the lid of his cup. “Not a downside from where I’m standin’,” he drawls.

Castiel has no idea how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. Dean can’t mean it like Castiel thinks he does. He’s an actor, feeding people lines is the dictionary definition of his job. Instead Castiel asks, “No french fries this time?” because he’s not nearly ready to leave yet.

“Already ate ’em, while I was waiting,” Dean says dismissively.

Castiel shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry.”

“No harm, no foul,” Dean says with a little grin. “I got my caffeine fix eventually, and that’s what I really care about.”

“You look remarkably more put together than last time,” Castiel says as he leans against the doorway, watching Dean sip at his drink.

“Didn’t drink as much,” Dean says with a grin. He tips back his cup and takes a long pull. “Fries can only get you halfway there. Christ, that’s the stuff.”

Castiel can’t help but make a face. The latte smells horrendous; it can’t taste that much better.

“What?” Dean asks, eyes narrowing.

Castiel probably shouldn’t tell Dean what is exactly on his mind. Castiel has found very few people appreciate his default brand of honesty - Hunter’s Café customers, especially. But Dean isn’t technically his customer - he’s Jo’s - and Castiel has reached the point in his life where he doesn’t need to hang onto people who don’t like him and vice versa. Dean isn’t even providing extra publicity for the establishment, since he’s getting serviced in the alley behind the kitchen.

Technically, Castiel needs a celebrity acquaintance as much as he needs a free bag of cat food (he doesn’t have a cat).

But he does like having one.

A celebrity acquaintance, that is. Cats are inherently suspicious.

Reluctantly, Castiel says, “I can’t imagine that latte tastes very good.”

To his surprise, instead of demanding Jo bring him his coffee from now on, Dean laughs. “Not a fan of apple pie?”

“Not in my coffee.”

Dean takes an obnoxiously loud slurp. “I think it’s delicious.”

“I think your taste buds must be severely incapacitated.”

Dean waggles the near empty cup in front of Castiel’s face in what must be an enticing manner to someone with no sense of smell or taste. “Wanna try?”

Castiel valiantly holds back his recoil. “No, thank you.”

But Dean’s genial expression doesn’t waver. “‘M feeling pretty much human again, so it’s up for grabs.”

“I’d sooner lick the dumpster,” Castiel blurts before he can filter himself.

Dean whistles, rocking back on his heels. “Harsh.”

Castiel sighs. Honesty was a mistake. He mutters, embarrassed, “I’m just not a very big fan of sweets.”

“No?”

“I’ve been living with my cousin while in graduate school at Columbia,” he explains, his tone apologetic for his earlier comment, “and he has a horrendous sweet tooth. I don’t think he’s ever seen a carrot that wasn’t in a cake first.”

A wide grin splits Dean’s face. He laughs.

What Castiel wouldn’t give to scent Dean’s joy for himself. “He would probably love that latte,” Castiel continues wryly.

“Probably,” Dean agrees. He taps his fingers against the sides of the cup as he asks, “So you’re in school? For what?”

“Do you really want to know?” Castiel asks seriously. He’s had too many conversations with strangers and casual friends who have asked the exact same question and regretted asking it almost immediately.

Dean ducks his head. “I don’t know any graduate students, and I,” he breaks off, his cheeks going pink, “I never went to college, so I have no idea what it means.” He sucks on the dregs of his latte, gaze dropping to the vicinity of Castiel’s knees.

“Oh,” Castiel says, feeling lighter. “In that case, I’m studying ethnomusicology.”

Dean’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Are you fucking with me? That doesn’t sound real.”

“It’s a legitimate area of study,” Castiel assures him. “I research music as it pertains to culture and diverse elements of social life. Ethnomusicology focuses not only on the music itself, but music as a social process, as a medium for humans to relate to each other. In short, it examines how music functions in a particular society.”

To Castiel’s surprise, Dean doesn’t get the glazed-over look most people do when he explains his field of study. “So what kind of music are you talking about?”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to flush. His colleagues, while they respect his academic reputation, have nearly all looked down on his chosen object of study. “One of the main tenets of ethnomusicology is a global perspective on music-”

“What, like Tibetan throat-singing?” Dean interrupts. At Castiels’ stare, he explains quickly, “Sammy had a phase.”

Castiel chuckles. “Yes, I do know a professor at Cornell who is studying just that. But my focus is much closer to home. I study,” he inhales a small breath, “tribute bands.”

Dean’s mouth twitches. “What.”

“Tribute bands offer a fascinating definition of the nature of performance, the difference between authenticity and identity,” Castiel says, already on the defensive. He can already hear his voice trying to fall into his usual academic patterns, and tries to rein himself in, “and historical consciousness in popular music. Here -” He pulls out his phone.

Dean listens in complete silence to Yellow Dubmarine’s cover of I Want You.

“Anyway,” Castiel coughs, embarrassed he made Dean sit through all that, “I also teach Rock and Roll from the 1950s to 1980s. There is a great deal of crossover with my specialty since most tribute bands recreate acts from the 60s to the 80s.”

“Dude,” Dean says in a rush, “if you think that makes you less interesting, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Castiel blinks.

“What bands are we talkin’ about?” he asks eagerly. “More Beatles? The Stones? The Who?”

Castiel nods. “I’m hoping to go to a Lez Zeppelin concert next month.”

“Led Zeppelin?”

“Lez,” Castiel says, emphasizing the ‘z’, “an all-female Led Zeppelin tribute band.”

Dean frowns. “They have a gimmick?”

Castiel shakes his head. “They’re completely sincere, I assure you.” He smiles wryly. “I interviewed Misstallica for a paper I’m writing on diverse, for lack of a better word, musicians in the tribute world, and they felt right at home with the long hair and tight pants. I’ve never met people who more adore the songs they perform.”

“Huh,” Dean says, rubbing his chin.

“Except maybe Air-O-Smith,” Castiel adds, “an American all-omega tribute band of Aerosmith.”

Dean’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

“My favorite all-omega tribute band, though, is Omega You Eight One Two,” Castiel muses, “a Van Halen cover band.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean says faintly.

“Their lead guitarist, as you can imagine, is phenomenal.”

Dean shakes his head, his expression going slack. “Wait, seriously? That’s a thing? All omega acts?”

“Of course,” Castiel says. ��That’s one of the most compelling aspects of tribute bands, when they flip the traditional male-alpha dynamic of the original, and how they translate that into their own act while keeping the whole performance authentic to the creators. It’s a fascinating process to watch and study.”

“I bet,” Dean says fervently. “Hey, d’you think-”

The back door opens before Dean can finish his sentence.

Jo pokes her head out, looking askance at the pair of them. “Are you still out here?” She glares at Dean. “Stop complaining about your diet, and let Castiel come back to work.”

Castiel’s mouth purses. “You’re on a diet?”

“Not on cheat day,” Dean tells him, lifting his empty cup. He turns to Jo. “And I wasn’t complaining at all. Cas was actually telling me about tribute bands.”

“Really?” Jo asks, her nose wrinkling.

Dean tosses his trash in the dumpsters. “They sound awesome.”

“I like them,” Castiel says lamely, off-footed now the conversation is clearly wrapping up.

Jo rolls her eyes, alpha irritation practically radiating off her. “Good for you.”

“Alright, well, I’ll let you deal with Joanna Beth on your own,” Dean says as he pulls out his wallet and hands Castiel a folded bill. He gives a mocking salute as he takes a step back, “Good luck, dude.”

“Thank you?”

“Come on, fanboy,” Jo growls once Dean’s disappeared from view, “back to work.”

* * *

“Can’t you take it?” Castiel asks, his tone verging on pleading, as Jo follows him back into the kitchen. It’s too early in the morning for another meeting, closer to first time Castiel met Dean at seven am compared to their last meeting at a little before eleven.

This past weekend, Castiel went down a spiral of Dean Winchester content. He read up on all of Dean’s recent projects, scanned headlines about rumors of his next film - some action thriller that Castiel presumes is the reason for Dean’s diet, and watched interview after interview. Dean on Stephen Colbert. Dean on Good Morning America. Dean on some very confusing show where they forced him to eat spicy chicken wings, which just seemed like an exercise in pepper-based sadism.

Castiel didn’t really understand the Saturday Night Live skit where Dean played one half of a demon-hunting brother duo, but the live studio audience laughed uproariously at multiple points.

Jo all but slams Dean’s latte on the ledge above the sink. “You know the health inspector is here. I can’t let Ruby near the guy, and you know how Kevin gets around figures of authority.”

Castiel sets down his tub of dirty dishes. “He nearly peed himself when he had to tell you he dropped a tray of scones over the floor last week,” he says flatly.

“Exactly,” Jo says. “Benny is busy,” she says, tipping her head to where Benny is adding more flour to a huge bowl.

“Cheers, darlin’.”

She turns back to Castiel. “So, you’re it today, champ.”

“Great,” Castiel grumbles.

“What?” Jo asks, her hands on her hips. “You seemed to get along with Dean. I actually didn’t know you could talk that much before I sent you back there.”

Castiel carefully transfers the dirty plates to the sink. “Getting along with him isn’t the problem,” he says darkly.

“Getting along with him too well is the issue?” Jo asks, her eyebrows rising.

Castiel scowls at her observation. Her emotional intuition is what makes her an excellent café manager, so he can hardly fault her for that. He doesn’t respond to her question.

“Take it to him,” Jo says, her tone softening. “He likes you.”

Castiel raises his head to stare at her. “How do you know that?”

Jo pulls her phone from her back pocket and waves it in his face. “We talk,” she says. “How do you think he orders every time? He’s not getting those lattes for free, not after I spent so much time getting them exactly right.”

Castiel can’t hold back his grimace. The latte still smells awful, like a vat of boiled candied apples.

“Look,” Jo says, lowering her voice, “Dean’s famous, sure, but he’s actually a very private person. He runs his mouth to anyone who’ll listen, but he never really says anything important. So he doesn’t really connect with a lot of people. If he says he likes you, I’m gonna say that’s a good thing - if you tell him I said this, I’ll kick your ass - and make you his designated errand boy.”

Castiel bites his lip. “But I don’t -”

“Dude, don’t make me pull the boss card,” Jo says, just the barest hint of threat in her words.

“Fine.” Castiel snatches the latte off the counter. “But I want a raise.”

“You can get a free sandwich.”

Castiel glares daggers as he shoulders open the back door.

But the alley is empty.

Castiel breathes through his mouth as he steps out. The overflowing dumpsters carry the odor of moldering cheese and more rancid fish, and the fryers next door are still going strong. He doesn’t find Dean lurking behind the trash for some strange reason, and he’s about to head back in and dump Dean’s latte down the sink when a shout makes him turn around.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean calls, jogging in from the brightly lit street.

“Hello, Dean.” He hands over the latte.

“Thanks - sorry.” Dean rubs the back of his neck with his other hand. “Some fans caught me sneaking in here, and wanted a selfie.”

“Oh,” Castiel says for lack of anything better to say.

Dean tips back his cup, his expression falling into pure bliss. “Christ, that’s so much better when I’m not hungover.”

Castiel stares. “You’re drinking that with all your capacities intact?”

“Ain’t no better way to enjoy pie,” Dean says, grinning widely.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “That’s not pie.”

“It’s as close as I’m gonna get at eight in the morning on a Thursday,” Dean says with a shrug.

Silence falls between them, and Castiel can’t help glancing over Dean’s shoulder, tentatively scanning for the people who caught his attention earlier. Plenty more would have approached Dean if he didn’t have Jo’s latte waiting for him; Castiel would bet his job on it.

Dean is a celebrity.

Castiel is a grad student who can’t even afford to support a guinea pig on his stipend and café salary.

After a long beat, Dean asks, a touch hesitantly, “So, what’ve you been up to?”

Stalking you on the internet.

“Nothing,” Castiel lies. At the slight fall in Dean’s expression, he adds, “I cleaned my kitchen over the weekend.”

Dean chuckles. “You’re a weird dude, you know that?”

Hurt, Castiel takes a step back. Jo probably needs him for… something.

“Not in a bad way!” Dean says quickly. “Shit,” he swears under his breath, “please don’t stop giving me coffee.”

Castiel hesitates. “Why is it weird that I cleaned my kitchen?” He frowns. “I suppose you employ someone to do that for you.”

Dean seesaws his free hand back and forth as he sips at his latte. “Not always,” he lowers his voice, “I actually like cleaning - it helps me relax and shit. There’s nothing like blasting some tunes and scrubbing out that stain on the counter that’s been annoying you forever.”

Castiel lowers his voice too. “Is this a secret?”

Dean grimaces. “Not really. But, you know, it’s one of those omega things.”

Castiel doesn’t know. Well, he knows it is a stereotypical omega trait to like housework, but he has no idea why Dean would whisper it in a back alley like he’s confessing to defrauding an elderly relative. “And that is bad because…?”

Dean takes a long pull from his cup. “I don’t want to hammer the omega thing home too hard, alright?”

“But you are an omega,” Castiel says, feeling a little stupid for saying it out loud.

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, “but if I lean into it, I’ll stop getting alpha roles.”

“You only want to play alphas?” Castiel asks curiously.

Dean’s mouth twists. “They’re the better parts. Omegas are always the damsels in distress or get killed off first for the plot.”

“I’m sure not all films are like that,” Castiel says. God knows, Anna made him sit through enough films with an omega protagonist that did not fit the typical romantic comedy restrictions.

“Most.”

“The last movie I saw,” Castiel says, hesitant because Dean must know more about this than him, “my sister recommended it, it had an omega lead who led a team of paranormal investigators. A sort of horror-comedy.”

Dean’s face loses some of its hostility. Almost intrigued, he asks gruffly, “D’you know who wrote it?”

“Not off the top of my head.” Castiel pulls out his phone to look it up. He reads aloud, “Ghostfacers, directed by Ed Zeddmore, written by Harry Spangler. Starred Maggie Zeddmore and Alan Corbett.” He pauses, trying to remember the details. “I think they both were omegas. I’m sure there are more films like Ghostfacers out there for you to make.”

Dean sips at his latte. “A few. None with big enough names attached to really get on my radar.”

“Well, if you signed on, wouldn’t there be a big name attached?”

“Yeah,” Dean says in a tone that clearly conveys he’s thought of this possibility before. He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s just - what if I take one of these roles, and it gets all this attention just ’cause I’m in it, and it flops?”

Castiel tilts his head. “That would hardly be your fault. Most failed films are hardly the work of one person. Usually, it’s a combination of a bad story, bad production, and bad acting.” He levels Dean an appraising look. “Right off the bat, you control two of those elements - pick a good script and act as well as you always have.”

Dean blinks. “You’ve seen my stuff?”

Castiel’s brow furrows. “I thought I already said I knew who you were?”

“Yeah, but,” Dean says, his voice petering off with embarrassment, “that didn’t mean you liked my movies.”

“The majority of America liked your last movie, Dean,” Castiel says dryly. “Either that, or you have a very hardworking and wealthy mother who poured a hundred million dollars into ticket sales.”

“I mean, Mom’s a fan, but not that big of a fan,” Dean says, chuckling. “I’m pretty sure she’d rather get a twenty-minute call from yours truly than sit through a two-hour flick with my name on the poster.”

Castiel hands over his phone. “Here,” he says, tilting it so Dean can see the summary of Ghostfacers.

Dean brightens as he reads through it. “The Alpha dies first?”

“He thought he could deal with the ghost on his own.”

“Typical alpha macho,” Dean snorts. His head snaps up as he gives the phone back. “No offense.”

“No offense taken,” Castiel says easily. “With my lifestyle, posturing is a waste of time. I’ve long ago resigned myself to not being the primary breadwinner in any future household.”

“Really?”

Castiel throws him a look. “I’m in academia, Dean. Tenure is hardly a guarantee. Even so, there isn’t a wealth of money out there for ethnomusicology grants.”

Dean tips his head in acknowledgement. “It’s awful big of you.”

“Just logical,” Castiel says evenly. “It shrinks my dating pool considerably, but I’d rather do what I love than compromise that much for any potential partner.”

Dean inhales a deep breath, his eyes unfathomable. “I get that.”

“If it means I can’t afford to mate a house-omega, I’ll just have to keep cleaning my kitchen myself,” Castiel finishes with a shrug.

Dean grins. “I mean, if you spot me a six pack and don’t tell my trainer about it, I’ll clean your kitchen.”

Castiel turns bright red. He can’t bring himself to respond to that offer, so he changes the subject.

* * *

Castiel doesn’t even bother pretending to protest as Jo barges into the kitchen, the telltale scent of sugary apples wafting around her like a palpable shield. Castiel already set himself for heartbreak where Dean Winchester is concerned. He might as well take advantage of every interaction he has left.

He went to sleep late last night, watching one of Dean’s earlier movies. He was slimmer and younger, but he still shone with his signature charisma and talent. For the first time since Castiel started the morning shift at Hunter’s Café, he snoozed his alarm.

Hurrying through his morning routine, Castiel couldn’t help resenting Dean just a little. If only Dean hadn’t chosen a profession where his literal job is to be whatever his audience wants him to be.

As Castiel pushes open the door, Dean is waiting outside. Dark sunglasses shield his green eyes, and a violet bruise blooms over his left eyebrow. As the door slams shut behind Castiel, Dean winces. His left hand holds a half-empty paper container of french fries.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says. “You don’t look good.”

“Tell me about it,” Dean says darkly. “Gimme.”

Castiel pauses. “Did your hangover eliminate your manners?”

Dean flushes bright red. “No,” he mutters. “Sorry, Cas. I just feel like shit.”

“You look like shit,” Castiel says frankly as he hands it over.

“Thanks,” Deans says, his voice sour as old lemons. “I told Charlie tequila shots before Monopoly was a bad idea, but did anyone listen to me?” He gestures to his face. “Next thing I know, Jo’s throwing Charlie’s bag of DnD dice at my head.”

“You got that playing Monopoly? Wait, Jo did this to you?” he demands, gesturing to the cafe behind him. “Jo Harvelle?”

Dean just glares over the rim of his coffee cup. “Yeah, Katniss got me good.”

“God, why?”

One corner of Dean’s mouth lifts in a distinctly smug smirk. “’Cause she was going bankrupt, and she had to sell her last property to me.”

“So this was because of Monopoly,” Castiel says dubiously. In his experience, a board game has never led to actual violence.

Dean shrugs. “Game nights get intense. Why do you think I’m always bangin’ down your door the morning after?”

Castiel can’t believe it. “You’ve been getting this drunk at a game night? Every time?”

“So what?” Dean shoves four french fries in his mouth. “Whaddya think I was doin’?”

“Partying?” he suggests.

Dean snorts. “Maybe six years ago when I was doing B-level flicks and trying to meet as many people as I could. Now I have a back-to-back shooting schedule and hangovers if I don’t pace myself.”

Castiel watches Dean polish off his fries at a truly impressive and horrifying speed. He can’t help asking, “Why was Jo at your game night?”

“’Cause she’s a menace who knows how to pick locks?” Dean heaves a weighty sigh. “I’ve known Jo since we were kids. She and her mom - who started Hunter’s Café - were my neighbors.”

“I had no idea.”

Dean gestures to the alley with a wry hand. “Jo likes to keep it under wraps.”

“I see why Jo keeps making those drinks for you,” Castiel says, nodding at the half-finished latte in Dean’s hand.

“You didn’t make it?” Dean says, and does he sound almost disappointed?

Castiel shakes his head. “Jo is keeping the recipe close to the chest.”

“Probably worried everyone’ll want one if they get the taste.” Dean tips the cup back.

Castiel can’t help his noise of disgust. At Dean’s sharp look, he says aloud, “She’s probably worried everyone will never come back if they try it.”

Dean’s laugh cuts off with a wince. He raises a hand to his head. “Christ, last night was a mistake.”

Castiel surreptitiously scents the air for a better gauge of how discomfited Dean really is, but, as always, all he gets is trash and fryer oil. “How are you doing? Apart from the injury, headache, and general hangover-related malaise.”

“Oh, apart from that?” Dean echoes mockingly, but his words lack any heat. He crams a few fries into his mouth. “I asked my agent to send me a few more scripts with omega roles,” he mutters.

Castiel smiles. “That’s great.”

Dean hums his agreement. “Hopefully, she’ll pick out a decent one, and I can get something set up for after Two for the Show wraps.”

“Is Two for the Show the reason for your diet?”

Dean huffs. “Yeah. I have a bunch of shirtless scenes, so that means three months with the diet coach from hell.”

Castiel makes a noise of sympathy. After a moment, he asks, “Is it worth it?”

Dean chews a fry, scowling between bites. “Not really,” he says in a low voice. “Sammy’s the farmers market maniac in the family.” Wistfully, he continues, “Give me a good cheeseburger deluxe every day for the rest of my life with a side of pie, and I’ll die a happy man.”

“I didn’t think apple pie came as a side.”

“Not for you, maybe,” Dean says with an obnoxiously loud slurp of his latte.

Castiel doesn’t bother holding back his smile.

Dean sighs, rubbing his temple with the heel of his hand. “It’s just like, I don’t look like a traditional omega, so I figured I might as well try for the alpha roles.” He swallows. “’S a win-win situation. I look the part and the characters are better - what’s the downside?”

Castiel cocks his head. “Other than your restricted diet and inadvisable levels of drinking?”

A humorless smile pulls at Dean's mouth. “Not pullin’ the punches this morning, huh?”

Castiel colors, his face heating with shame. “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well.” An inadequate excuse, but it’s not like he can tell Dean the real reason for his more uncharitable thoughts.

Castiel has never been one to lean into his alpha instincts. Possessiveness, aggression, arrogance - Castiel has had his (mostly regrettable) moments, but they hardly define his character. But over these past few weeks, he’s had to repeatedly tell himself that he can’t solve Dean’s problems. Dean is a wildly successful adult with millions of fans, while Castiel can’t even handle Hunter Cafe's front counter during the morning rush.

Dean would hardly welcome a nobody little alpha telling him to just… do what he wants and damn the consequences because he deserves to be happy with his life and his work.

Dean plucks out the rest of his fries and balls the wrapper against his hip. He lobs it in the dumpster. “No, I get it. I’m complaining about things that most people would kill to have.” He glances towards the mouth of the alley, his mouth set in a thin line.

But before Dean can leave, Castiel says quickly, “That’s not the way I see it. Your specific frustrations aren’t universal, but hardly anyone’s are. Society is inherently unfair, and it’s understandable to be angry about it.”

God knows Castiel railed enough about the unfairness of Dean Winchester to Gabriel enough over the past few weeks.

Even now, hungover and bruised, Dean is beautiful.

Castiel steels himself. “And, for what it’s worth, I don’t think not looking like a typical omega is a bad thing.”

Dean turns to him in surprise, and Castiel would give up that free sandwich Jo offered him to be able to scent what exactly Dean is feeling. But, after a second that stretches into an eternity, all Dean gives him is a quiet, “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel nods, chastised by Dean’s reaction. “I should get back to work,” he says awkwardly.

Dean mutters something that might be a swear underneath his breath. Raising his voice, he says, his tone apologetic, “’Course. Sorry for keeping you.”

Castiel shakes his head. “It’s alright. I,” he pauses, “always enjoy talking to you.”

Dean’s mouth lifts into a small smile, and it’s like the sun rising through the early morning fog. “You too, man.”

* * *

After his next shift, Castiel asks Jo to show him how to make Dean’s apple pie latte.

Castiel’s first attempt is a disaster. He burns the espresso and adds too much nutmeg. Jo makes him try it anyway, as a non-monetary payment for her time. As Castiel gags, a smirking Jo dumps the bitter, weirdly savory mess down the sink.

“Passable,” Jo declares at Castiel’s second try. “You need more of the apple concentrate, though.”

“It’ll be too strong,” Castiel protests even as he shakes more powder in and gives it a stir. He hands it back to Jo for evaluation.

“You could barely taste it!” Jo says. She raises it to her lips. “Mm, that’s the stuff.”

“It is?” Castiel asks hopefully.

Jo nods and pushes the cup towards him. “That’s what it’s supposed to taste like.”

Castiel frowns as the overly sweet apples hit his tongue. He can barely taste the coffee underneath all the other layers.

“Trust me,” Jo says, flipping her hair behind her shoulder as she sets Castiel up for a third cup. “Your scent’s getting in the way, but it tastes exactly like an apple pie.”

“My scent?” Castiel echoes, baffled.

Jo throws him a look as she pushes a clean coffee cup into his hands. “Yeah, you already smell, I dunno, crisp but sweet? A little like apples. Makes you think the latte dials it up to eleven when it’s more like a nine for everyone else.”

Castiel hadn’t thought to put those pieces together, but it makes an astonishing amount of sense.

He brings his last apple pie latte home to Gabriel, and his cousin makes him write down, step by step, how to make it. In between actual licks into the cup to get the dregs, Gabriel swears to visit him at Hunter’s Café more often.

When Jo next ducks her head into the kitchen to tell Castiel that Dean will swing by in fifteen minutes, Castiel gets to work. He awkwardly sidles behind the front counter and maneuvers around Ruby and Kevin, nearly knocking Kevin’s elbow as Kevin attempts some elaborate leaf pattern.

Castiel draws a rudimentary apple on top of Dean’s latte, and if it looks more like a misshapen mango, nobody will see it but Dean.

For the first time, Castiel heads out to wait for Dean at the mouth of the alley.

Dean doesn’t keep him in suspense for long. He makes his way down the street, shoulders hunched, and head bowed. Gaze fixed on the dirty sidewalk, Dean doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as he turns the corner.

Dean isn’t even wearing sunglasses or a hat to hide his face, but everyone walks straight past him.

It’s the most riveting performance Castiel has ever seen.

A few steps away, Dean catches sight of him, and it’s like some magic switch is flipped on, and he is Dean Winchester again.

Smiling brightly, he jogs the rest of the distance and follows Castiel as he slinks further back into the alley. Dean wrinkles his nose as they get closer to the dumpsters and the smell of an entire rancid fast food menu hits him. “Hey, Cas,” he says as he takes his latte. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Castiel says, tipping his head.

Dean stares down oddly at the demented pear and takes a sip. Face going slack with a bliss Castiel doesn’t even need to smell, Dean groans.

Castiel freezes and sends up a silent prayer of thanks for the apron covering his lower half over his pants. “It’s good?” he tries futilely because Dean is clearly beyond speech.

Dean just gives him a thumbs up as he lowers the cup. He licks his lips, chasing the taste, and Castiel has seen pornography less graphic.

“I might have to tip Jo this time too,” Dean says, staring at the latte in his hand in wonder.

Castiel coughs. “I - I made this one, actually.”

Dean chokes on his next mouthful. “Are you serious?”

Castiel nods because if he opens his mouth he’s not sure what exactly will come out. Probably something highly embarrassing.

“This is the best one I’ve ever had,” Dean swears.

Castiel’s whole body heats with the force of his blush. “Thank you. I asked Jo how to make it, since it seems like I’ve taken over your delivery duties.”

Dean grins. “You’re a lot more fun than Jo,” he says lightly, “so I’m not complainin’.”

Castiel didn’t think he could get any redder, but here he is.

After an awkward beat, Dean says, “I think I found my next movie.”

“Really?”

Dean shrugs, but his eyes glimmer with anticipation. “It’s a World War II biopic about an omega who sneaks into the army, disguises himself as an alpha, and rescues a unit trapped behind enemy lines.” He taps his fingers against the side of his half-empty cup. “A little on the nose, but the script is good.”

“It sounds very promising,” Castiel agrees.

“Their biggest problem was the budget - historical pics aren’t cheap. But they think if I sign on early, they can leverage my name with the studio.” He smiles shyly. “Get the movie done right.”

“That’s fantastic,” Castiel says, a delightful warmth filling his chest - still a pale reflection of Dean’s excitement.

“Thanks to you.”

Castiel’s eyes widen in surprise. “Me?”

Dean throws him a funny look. “Yeah, you. You told me to get my head outta my ass and movies I actually like doing-”

“Not in so many words-” Castiel interjects, alarmed.

“’Cause the whole point of doing these stupid macho alpha flicks was so I could get the clout and money to do the stuff I actually liked,” Dean continues. “And I kept thinking, can’t do it yet, not there yet, until some rando tells me, fuck yeah you can.”

“I definitely didn’t say that-”

“It was implied,” Dean says blithely, waving off his protests. “So I figured, if this dude who doesn’t know me from Adam-”

“I’ve seen several of your films.”

“- tells me to go for it - it being something I’d thought of doing for years - is there any real reason why I shouldn’t?”

Castiel just stares at him, stunned.

Dean beams. “I’ve got a meeting with the director next week.”

“That’s wonderful,” Castiel says sincerely.

“Anyway, yeah, it’s partially thanks to you,” Dean says, tipping his latte in Castiel’s direction. “I also want to talk about romantic B-plot since I think it’s stupid.” He shakes his head, scoffing. “True mates, bullshit.”

“You think true mates are bullshit?”

As far as Castiel saw online, Dean’s never spoken on the record about true mates or any mates at all. Entertainment news sources reported rumors about him and a one-named alpha singer, Amara, early in his career, which he denounced thoroughly. A few months later, someone published revealing photos of him and an older alpha actor, Fergus Crowley. When asked about it, Dean refused to give details.

Dean makes a face. After a pause, he says, “My parents said they were true mates, but it wasn’t… pretty. No Hollywood romance between them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“’S fine,” Dean says in a tone that clearly says it isn’t. “Whenever Dad took off for a few days, I’d get to watch as many movies as I wanted, and - well, the rest is history.”

“I don’t know anyone who’s found their true mate,” Castiel says. His parents had a cold, distant marriage. A few times over the years, he wasn’t sure his mother even liked his father’s scent. Anna happily mated another omega last year, and Gabriel avoids all romantic entanglements like the black plague.

Castiel’s dating history can best be described as dismal. During his last visit to his pediatrician, his doctor called him a “late bloomer” which Castiel eventually realized just meant socially awkward. In the decade since, Castiel’s slept with a grand total of three people. And, to his supreme regret, none of them managed to bring his rusty people skills up to par.

But, in college, Castiel found music and his calling. And all his faults didn’t matter nearly as much.

In the crowd of a concert, people are so far outside the ordinary conditions of life, and so conscious of the fact, that they free themselves from individual concerns and devote themselves wholly to the collective. All their fury, their joy, their hunger for what they can’t have, is sublimated into the music.

Castiel has never felt more connected to humanity than in the middle of a crowd.

Truthfully, none of his past relationships ever measured up. None of his past partners ever managed to get Castiel out of his own head - not like the music.

Castiel shakes his head ruefully. “I wouldn’t know what to do with a true mate even if I had one.”

“Have a lot of super sappy sex with the lights on?” Dean offers, laughing.

Castiel frowns. “I wasn’t aware that kind of intercourse was restricted to true mates. I’ve done that in the past since I've always shared an emotional connection with the people I've slept with.”

“Oh,” Dean says, reddening. “Were you mated? Jo didn’t say.”

Inordinately pleased that Dean had asked Jo about him, Castiel shakes his head. “No, I’ve never been mated.”

Dean drains his latte. Swallowing, he says, “Me neither.” He throws the cup in the open dumpster and turns back to Castiel. “I haven’t dated in a while, actually,” he says in a low voice. “Couldn’t risk being seen with an alpha and remind everyone of what I’m not.”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “Surely people can’t be that close-minded.”

“’Course they can. Most are,” Dean says, his voice full of assurance.

Castiel’s mouth twists. “That sounds like a negativity bias to me.”

“Huh?”

“Negative information sticks with us longer and more strongly than any positive counterpart,” Castiel says with a shrug. “It’s something I always keep in mind when reading my course reviews after the semester is over.”

“So," Dean says, eyes dancing, "you can take the nerd out of the classroom, but you can’t take the classroom out of the nerd, huh?”

Castiel smiles wryly. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Dean laughs. “Look,” he starts, his expression turning a fraction more serious. “I might be fucking up a good thing here, but do you want to go to a Lez Zeppelin show next week?”

Castiel’s mouth falls open as Dean reaches out and pulls out his phone to show him a ticket confirmation email.

“It’s no big if you don’t want to,” Dean says awkwardly into the silence.

“I - I do,” Castiel says, stumbling over the words. “You do?”

“Uh,” Dean throws him a bemused look, “Yeah? I bought the tickets, dude.”

“I’m just surprised,” Castiel says honestly.

Dean stares at him. “This is seriously comin’ out of nowhere for you?”

“A little,” Castiel says defensively.

“Seriously?”

Castiel shrugs helplessly. “You’re … you. You’re famous. Why would you ask me?”

“Because I like you?” Dean says, nonplussed. “You’re nice in a way a lot of the alphas I know aren’t, and,” he breaks off, reddening, “you said you didn’t mind that I didn’t fit in with other omegas, looks-wise-”

“I don’t,” Castiel interrupts. “I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Dean gapes. “Did you seriously -” he breaks off, apparently unable to voice the rest of his thought. His face turns an impressive shade of crimson.

Castiel shoves his hands in his pockets. “Should I not have said that?” he asks, brow furrowing. This can’t be the first time Dean has been complimented on his looks. As Castiel understands, good looks are one of the main precursors to acceptance in Hollywood.

“No - I mean, maybe - never mind,” Dean fumbles, more out of sorts than Castiel has ever seen him. “It’s that nobody just out and says that, even to me.”

“I just did.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean says, but he’s smiling. “You should look in the mirror sometime, though.” He winks, and Castiel’s brain nearly fritzes out. “So that’s a yes?”

Castiel nods, an all-encompassing warmth filling his chest and exploding out to the tips of his fingers and toes. “I’d love to.”

“It’s a date.”

Read Part II here!

[mentally-unavailable]

How To Court A Cryptid: 101 Chapter 3

PREVIOUS CHAPTER or NEXT CHAPTER

Content warning: Cursing, threats of violence, minor violence, transphobia and homophobia, leftist/anarchist views (Not really a warning, but for those who don’t agree with those views), smoking

“Hello chat! How are we doing today!?” Tommy yelled into his mic, talking to chat as he started his stream. 

I sat on the side watching him talk to the chat, I couldn’t see chat but I could tell they were questioning why the lights were off, since Tommy kept smiling and trying not to giggle. 

“Why are the lights off?” Tommy asked squinting at chat, I then rolled into the camera’s view.

“Well, typically cryptids like dark places where they can’t be seen” I said rolling in and leaning so I could see chat.

Chat then went 1 million miles per second they were all spamming cryptid and being amazed that I was real. I started to laugh really hard because some of the chats messages.

“Well, chat this is the Dream SMP discord cryptid; also known as- Can I say your name?” Tommy asked looking over at me. I smiled,

“Uh, I prefer Bas or bastard here on the innerwebs, but if you want sure you can say my name. Just don’t give like my home address or whatever” I said looking at chat smiling. 

“what? Why would I- never mind. Okay chat this is Bastard.” Tommy said smiling looking over chats messages “Hey, can we turn on the lights?”

“UGGGHHHH, I guess” I said getting up and walking over to the light switch. I turned it on and saw Tommy walk over to see and stand next to me. I gave him a confused facial expression.

“Chat wants to see the height difference, you goblin” He said smiling looking down at me. I quickly stood my tippy toes, easy with the boots

“Okay, fit check, as you can see I have the superiors fashion sense chat. Tommy here has none, write that down” I said walking back to my chair.

“I do not! I have a great fashion sense!” Tommy said looking at me offended I started to cackle like a hyena

“Yeah, to be fair though, you are a teenager who live that streamer life style so I understand” I said after catching my breathe from laughing, Tommy rolled his eyes.

“Yeah yeah” He said crossing his arms, I looked over at chat

‘Gamer Bf and Alt s/o goals’

‘Are you a boy or a girl? I really can’t tell’

“Ew, I will punt you straight into the sun you heathens” I said with a face

“HEY! Don’t threaten my chat!” Tommy yelled at me

“They were shipping us. Ew, he is like my little brother. This isn’t sweet home Alabama people” I replied

“Okay fair enough, also chat they use they/them pronouns, respect that please” Tommy said looking at the monitor

“Thank you, so what are we gonna do?” I asked leaning back on my chair and grabbing the container of brownies.

“We could go on the SMP and mess with people” Tommy said grabbing a brownie and popping it into his mouth.

“Cool, give me the grand tour” I said popping a brownie into my mouth

Tommy then booted up Minecraft and got onto the SMP server, he made sure to show on stream

“Okay, lets show the cryptid how to be cool” Tommy said moving his character around

I looked over at the camera unamused, I looked at the stream and saw my face. I started to get uncomfortable and looked down.

“I am being perceived and I don’t think I like it...” I said picking at my nails

“You okay?” Tommy said looking over at me, I smiled and shook my head yes

“It’s okay, I’m just use to being blurry not in 4k resolution” I said chuckling

“Oh hey Dream is on” Tommy said looking on the list,

“He’s the sever owner right?” I asked looking on scream

“yes” Tommy said

“So, he’s like a goverment?” I asked smirking

“what are you thinkin?” Tommy asked looking over at me

I smiled before shrugging and setting down the container

“Well, as an anarchist, I don’t really like the government. So, maybe I could attack him while screaming ‘ACAB’ or ‘Down with the government bitches’ idk. Wait- will that get you in trouble. My bad” I said cutting myself off worried I said something that will get Tommy in trouble. He started laughing, more wheezing

“Omg, yes! Let’s do it!!” He yelled moving towards Dream and others of the server. I smiled,

‘Cryptid says ACAB?’

‘Anarchist? Technoblade might like this!’

Some of the chat said amazed I said something like that,

“Yes, chat ACAB all the way, demolish the government! Consume the rich people!!” I yelled excitedly

“Okay, how do you wanna do this?” Tommy asked

“Okay, I’ll attack while you get us into VC and you scream then I yell ‘ACAB bitches’“ I said scooting him over so I can take control of his character

“Okay good” Tommy said getting into the VC “Here we go!”

“By the way, I’m bad at Minecraft” I yelled before we joined and attacked Dream.

“AHHHHH” Tommy yelled

“ACAB BITCHES” I yelled after him attacking Dream

“Huh? Tommy! What the Fuck?” Dream yelled before he pulled out his own sword and started swinging

“Oh fuck!!” I yelled trying to get away

“Move!!” Tommy yelled before he died

“Uhhh, my bad” I said smiling at him, Tommy rolled his eyes

“Tommy what the hell man? Why did you attack me?” Dream asked

We both looked at each other before I smirked and leaned into the mic

“Tommy is no longer with us” I said deepening my voice

“What!? Tommy did you get hacked? I’ll open your stream” Sapnap said with Dream and George agreeing.

Tommy muted himself, turned off the music, then got up and moved the camera zooming in my face and then ran and turned off the lights. My face was only illuminated my the screen light, Tommy then hid, I was confused before he looked at me and winked. I turned and stared into the camera with a dead look.

“AHHHHHH!? WHAT THE FUCK!???” Was all we heard from the others, as we both started laughing

“The cryptid is real!?” George yelled 

“Y’all have Discord Admin energy bitches” I said before we quit the VC and started wheezing. I started coughing and grabbed out my drink from my bag. I opened my Monster and chugged. Tommy kept wheezing so hard,

“Omg, did you guys hear them!? Omg that was so funny!” Tommy yelled, I chuckled

‘Dream: What the fuck!?’

‘Sapnap: GOT EM!’

“Dream is actually our Discord admin” Tommy said between laughing

“Ah, cool. He doesn’t have it actually, but now knowing. HMMMM” I said looking at the camera smirking

“Yeah, and Gogy is his discord kitten” Tommy said putting everything back to normal

“An I oop- Wait, that’s georgenotfound right?” I asked

Tommy leaned back into his chair giggling “yup, he’s the bestest man ever” he said smiling

“I thought that was Philza Minecraft?” I asked having a confused face

“Wait! Phil is on! Do you wanna meet the biggest man? Philza Minecraft” Tommy asked

“I thought you were the biggest man?” I asked smirking

“I am, well- we share the title anyways” Tommy said as he joined the VC

“Tommy, we just had your stream open!” we were met with,

Tommy started wheezing again, I smiled ‘Brothers’ I thought

“You’re going to get banned” A voice said; ‘Technoblade’ I thought remembering his voice from some of Tommy’s streams.

“Chaotic little shit” Philza said laughing

“The cryptid is real! Oh my god I have to tell Quackity, he thought you were using photoshop or whatever!” Wilbur yelled laughing

“God has let me live another day, so, I’m gonna make it everyone's problem” I said snickering, while I felt my face heat up. ‘God I feel like a zoo animal’ I thought smiling awkwardly

I don’t know any of Tommy’s friends really, and they don’t know much about me. Only that I’m Tommy’s scary friend and what they’ve seen from pictures and probably dumb stories he told them.

Tommy took control of the game, making sure the stream was entertained. He answered with giggles.

“Did you really bite a kid in school for picking on Tommy?” 

‘FUCK’ I thought, making a surprised face

“Well you see there! Uhh-” I tried to say

“They also threatened a dude with a Selenite knife once!” Tommy chimed in

“Yeah, that’s true, but both fuckers deserved it okay!” I said as I felt my face get hotter from embarrassment

“God your both equally feral” Phil said laughing, Wilbur giggled and Techno stayed mostly silent besides a small laugh. Tommy explained he was ‘awkward around new people’. ‘Social anxiety. MOOD’ I thought smiling.

“I personally prefer ‘unhinged’ but pop off I guess” I said shrugging

“Feral cryptid! Feral Cryptid” Wilbur chanted, soon the chat also spammed it

“So, this is THE Philza Minecraft” Tommy said as if he didn’t just say I bit a person and threatened another with a knife. “An honor right?”

“Hello, pleasure to meet you” I said smiling awkwardly

Phil laughed, Tommy looked offended “This is Philza Minecraft! Creator of Minecraft! Show some respect!” Tommy yelled

“Didn’t that other dude make the game?” I asked confused

“Yeah, but he was a wrongen. So, we joke that Philza made it instead” Wilbur explained

“Oh, yeah he was a fucking bigot right?” I asked, everyone went quiet “Should I have not said that? My ba-” 

“no, no” Wilbur said giggling “No, that was perfect. I wouldn’t have said it but you hit the nail on the head”

“Ah okay” I said with a small smile

“They are very radical” Tommy said smiling, I laughed awkwardly

“We heard” Techno said when amusement

I ended up taking off my jacket, revealing all my tattoos on my arms

‘WOAH!’

‘Are those real?’

“Yes, chat they are real, some are done professionally, others are stick and pokes. Don’t do it unless you know what your doing” I said raising my arms to show off my art

“Yeah, they piercing their own nose though!” Tommy yelled

“Oh, my god, that is dangerous.” Phil said worried

“Yeah, most I did myself or my sister did. She wanted to be a tattoo artist at one point so I just let her do whatever on me. Don’t worry they were done safely, mostly” I said laughing

“what does the skull say?” Techno piped up, I smiled, showing the camera my tattoo on my right fore arm. It was a leopard skull with grapes running out of the left eye socket dripping liquid. Under was a chalice, the piece was surrounded by a diamond. 

“It’s a piece dedicated to the god Dionysus. One of the first I ever got done professionally. And yes chat it hurt like a bitch” I said showing the tattoo

“Hello!” two voices popped into the call

“TUBBO!” Tommy yelled, I snapped my head towards the screen

“Tubbo? Isn’t that the guy you were calling when you broke your wrist?” I asked, Tommy wheezed

“Oh is that (y/n)?” Tubbo asked, I smiled

“Hey bubbs, how are you?” I asked

“Wait you both know each other?” Ranboo piped in

“Yes, you see some time ago, we were at the skate park. I was skate boarding and Tommy was on the phone with Tubbo. Tommy then wanted to do a trick. So, I take the phone and Tommy then fails miserly and breaks his fucking wrist! We were on call the whole time to and at the hospital” I said laughing

“Ah, sounds about right” Ranboo said

“What does that mean!?” Tommy yelled, Tubbo was laughing

“I’m good (y/n), thank you for reminding me of that” Tubbo said between laughs

“wait your name is (y/n)?” Wilbur pipes in, Tommy looked scared for a second

“Yeah, that is my name. I go by Bas or Bastard on social media though” I said shrugging. 

“Bastard?” Phil asked confused

“Can I promote myself?” I asked looking over at Tommy, he nodded smiling

“Yeah, I go by Cryptid_Bastard. I post art or whatever” I said relaxed

“That fits you” Tubbo said, I smiled

“Thanks bubbs” I said smiling

After a few hours we ended the stream and said goodbye to everyone. Me and Tommy leaned back in our chairs and sighed.

“Well, that was fun. I like your friends” I said smiling,

“Yeah, you can come on another stream another time if you want” Tommy said smiling, I nodded my head

“Yeah, well I need a break. I’m gonna go on a walk if you don’t mind. You wanna come?” I asked as I stood up and stretched

“Nah, I’m gonna chat with Tubbo for a bit” He said, I nodded before grabbing my bag and leaving the room. I walked out and said hi to his parents and informed them I was going on a walk. I walked out the door and towards the street. After getting to the sidewalk I grabbed out a cigarette and my lighter. I lit up, and took a deep draw. I ended walking towards the park while smoking,

*VRR VRR* I heard as my phone started vibrating in my bag. I dug around a pulled it out, it was notifications from twitter. I unlocked my phone and opened twitter, I had a whole wave of people following me and commenting on my art. I smiled before getting ready to tweet. I opened the camera and angled it to show me, I had my cigarette in my other hand making sure not to show it. I smiled taking the picture before typing and posting.

Cryptid_Bastard

*insert picture of you*

Welcome everyone, welcome to my corner of the internet! (:

I turned off my phone before walking towards the park.

‘Chaos isn’t so bad’

A/N: I hope y’all liked this. I’ve introduced SOME of the romantic interests! LET’S GO!! I’m gonna go hibernate for like a million years now. Stay hydrated! :P

TAGLIST: 

@teenage0jealousy

@smolbox-png

@yourimaginaryfriiendd

@venusliily-blog

@mega-trash-cringe​

@jaciahbabes

@ponyboytoddandthebatgreasers

@ahmya-4

If you would like to be added please comment here:  Taglist for HTCAC:101 (How to Court A Cryptid: 101)

[lucky-dreamfisher]

The Illusion of Living Notes and Spoilers

I feel like enough time has passed for everyone who wanted to get the audiobook to get it, so here are all the notes I made while reading the book.

Please do NOT show these spoilers to anyone who didn’t give their explicit permission to be spoiled! And do not try to sneaky-spoil while being vague and pretending you’re not spoiling either!

TIOL was written in 1941 and published in 1942

Joey’s biggest dream is to become a God

Joey is explicitly not straight (reaffirms his distaste for dating women multiple times in the book, purposely avoids intimate gestures when meeting female friends, and reacts negatively to a straight couple kissing in his presence) but can be interpreted as either gay or asexual, and there’s evidence supporting both of these interpretations

Joey doesn’t think of people as real. He thinks of them as fictional characters in a show (well, he isn’t wrong)

He witnessed a murder at 10, but isn’t bothered by it, because everyone’s fictional anyway (watsonian perspective: little sociopath, doylist perspective: smartest character in the franchise). It was on that day that he started thinking of people as characters in a play, including his own parents.

He likes to throw peanuts in the faces of vaudeville performers he doesn’t like. Very proud of his aim

Joey’s dad sends him a pair of boots every year as a gift. Joey throws them out and buys himself better ones

Though it’s implied that the stories he tells about his parents aren’t true

While in the army, he was bullied for liking girl stuff, like reading romance novels and genre fiction

Nathan and Joey are very close. Nathan often gives him business advice and knows some of his secrets. Nathan looks down on artistic-type people. Joey is the only artistic-type person he admires, mostly for being business-oriented. Nathan is all about money.

Nathan wears a suit, has perfectly slicked back hair, and an elegant mustache. Smokes Cigars. Calls himself Nate

Nathan says that Lottie (the girl from the preview) isn’t real. It’s implied that there are more made-up people in the book. The epilogue implies that Joey intends to bring the made-up people to life one day, just like the cartoons

After leaving the army, and before starting an animation studio, he worked at a bookstore together with Henry for a few years

He took late-night art classes together with Miss Lambert

Bendy was named after Joey’s friend, who murdered a man to take a photo of his dying face for an award show. Joey finds it inspiring. In his words: "Thank god for dark paths, they lead all great artists to their greatest creations". Joey also likes the name Bendy, because it means someone who bends the rules

Nathan says that Joey had a genuine change of heart in his old age, and had “too much guilt and worry”. Nathan is not pleased with that

Abby Lambert is one of Joey’s oldest friends, and the one who introduced him to Henry. She and Joey used to perform vaudeville acts together. Joey played a Devil and Abby played an Angel

It’s implied that Henry created the Butcher Gang, and they were some of his oldest characters, even older than Bendy, Boris, and Alice

Henry left a year after the studio’s creation because he wanted “something that isn’t Bendy” (it’s either that he felt like his creativity was being stifled by being forced to work on the same project all the time, or that he wanted a real family, as opposed to the “studio family” that Joey was satisfied with)

Joey disses Henry a lot in the book. He paints him as untalented, unimaginative, boring, and a poor dresser on top of that. Nathan thinks that pretending to not care about Henry is Joey’s “greatest illusion”

Nathan hates Henry and thinks that Joey’s going too easy on him (if BATDR is Nathan’s world, Henry’s gonna be screwed)

Sammy used to play music at a movie theatre when he was a teen and Joey came to watch his performance every day

They met again a few years later and Sammy recognized him. Joey hired him and Jack on the same day

Sammy smokes

Sammy and Jack performed jazz songs at vaudeville together for some time before working at JDS

Jack gets upset when people ignore him and only pay attention to Sammy. He loves being the center of attention, and has a knack for showmanship. Very optimistic and good natured

Sammy was hired a year after Henry’s departure and has never met him (curious, given that he recognizes Henry in the game) Not true - turns out Sammy was hired in October 1930, so he still could’ve met Henry

As part of his deal with Joey, Sammy has full creative control over his department and people he’s working with (did Sammy replace Susie?)

Sammy hates being at the center of attention and is always very serious. Making jokes comes hard for him, but he plays along sometimes. His expression is very hard to read and he always seems suspicious of people he’s talking with. He’s dressed very neatly and appropriately (unlike Jack, who wears bright and flashy clothes), his hair is long and not slicked back. He’s a few years younger than Joey, but acts much older

Joey thinks that Sammy is his best decision and the man who comes closest to fully understanding him. He takes pride in the fact that Sammy sticks by him for all these years out of his own will, and not because Joey makes him. He thinks Sammy is a genius and deserves to be worshipped like a god (he doesn’t hesitate to tell him that). Asked him once whether there’s anyone Sammy worships, and it’s painfully obvious that he wanted to hear that it’s him (Sammy replied that a god of this magnitude hasn’t been invented yet, which is a nice foreshadowing) 

Allison is already working at the studio at the time of TIOL. Before that, she was a Broadway actress. Joey likes to watch her recording sessions. It’s not confirmed which character she’s voicing, but Susie wasn’t mentioned anywhere in the book, so there’s a possibility that Allison was already voicing Alice Angel in 1941

Joey’s meetings with Jack Fain and Grant are just an excuse to have a coffee and chat with them

On his first meeting with Bertrum Joey got drunk and flirty with him. Bertrum told him he’s “not that kind of date” and Joey played dumb (the scene is played for laughs though, so idk if it’s supposed to be seriosuly indicative of Joey’s sexuality)

Bertrum returned from retirement to work on Bendyland

Disney exists in this universe, Joey wishes he could be able to achieve the same with Bendy

Nathan wants to prove “very soon” that he is limitless

The moving ink was developed as part of the Sillyvision film process at some point around 1941. The purpose of Sillyvision was to make corrections to images that have already been created, without having to redraw them from scratch. The ink is activated through contact with a special paper

Joey describes Bendyland’s conception, and the Dark Land sounds eerily similar to the studio world in BATIM & BATDR

Light Land is Alice’s Domain, and as the name suggests it will have many lights. It’s designed to create an illusion of being lifted up

Tiny Land is Boris’ Domain and it gives an illusion of getting shrunk

Big Land is Butcher Gang’s Domain and has giant airplanes and battleships

Joey hates the real world and wants to escape to a make-believe one. He was hoping Bendyland would be that for him. His greatest fear is being unable to create that perfect world, and creating only its dark reflection (ironic)

Joey feels like he won’t be able to truly die and rest his soul until his dream fully comes to life. He calls art his “doorway into immortality” (is Dapper Joey?)

Joey believes a soul is needed to make a lifeless artistic imitation of the world into a real breathing world. He says that he’s been looking for a soul for a long time (he means it metaphorically, but it feels like a foreshadowing)

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Part three of three. Let’s close this match out in style.

[No. 40 - Emancipation]

Endeavor is, unsurprisingly, thrilled with this development. He yells his son’s name, marching his way down the steps of the stands as he continues to shout. He’s pleased with Shouto finally accepting his fire, and that it all starts now for him. With Endeavor’s blood in his veins, he will surpass him and fulfill his ambitions. 

Shouto… doesn’t even seem to hear him. 

Endeavor, Toshinori, and the audience in general are left in an awkward silence. Eventually Present Mic makes light of the sudden pep talk from Endeavor, calling him a ‘doting parent’ with probably a bit of wry humor, and that it’s a bit unexpected since they’re not on good terms. 

Shouto wipes away his tears, looking back up at Izuku. Izuku is still proud of his victory in getting through to Shouto, which prompts Shouto to ask why he’s smiling. With his wounds, and in this situation, he must be crazy. It’s not Shouto’s problem what happens to him now. The two pull up the full power of their quirks as they face each other down, ready for the deciding blow.

Cementoss, meanwhile, gets up and calls to Midnight for help in stopping the match before it goes any further. Cementoss sends out a wave of cement, while Midnight tugs open her costume and lets her quirk loose.

Shouto sends out another massive glacier, which Izuku leaps over by sacrificing his right leg. Izuku thinks on how he has to get close and give it everything as he brings his right arm swinging around, thinking of his own words to Shouto to give everything he’s got. Shouto brings up his left hand, wreathed in flames, as he thanks Izuku.

Impact.

Not gonna lie, I really do appreciate the anime for how much more epic they were able to make this, mostly because of the advantage of sound + music + animation in conveying battle scenes. But also, the art style… Horikoshi really started out great and only got better from there. God, those flames...

Also, it’s such a small thing, but I can’t help but notice that thank you, so small against the rest of the full page spread, basically lost among everything else happening in that instant… it’s questionable whether Izuku even heard it over the noise of everything happening - we can certainly guess no one else did. And it’s so important, that acknowledgement, even if it’s unheard, to what Izuku did for him. 

In the aftermath, smoke covers the arena, making it impossible to see the results. Cementoss comments on how he doesn’t believe bigger is better, but that was something else. Present Mic, knocked over from his seat, is in shock, asking what is up with Aizawa’s class. Aizawa replies that all that chilled air had been heated in an instant, making it expand. Present Mic comments on the blast and the heat, as well as being unable to see anything. He wonders whether the match has been decided. Midnight is picking herself up as well, her hair a mess and mask blown away. 

The smoke clears just enough to see one of Izuku’s shoes scritching against the ground. Toshinori and Endeavor are tense as the smoke continues to clear, enough to see that Izuku-

-is out of the ring and out for the count. His unconscious body continues to slide down the wall, hitting the floor with a heavy thump, while Shouto, conscious and just inside the ring, watches on. Midnight calls the match - Izuku is out of bounds. Shouto moves on to the third round.

The crowds murmur and comment. Izuku got straight up blown away… was he just provoking Shouto without a plan to back it up? Did he even want to win? Or was he trying to lose? Either way, that was some impressive power… he’s got some moxie, for sure. He put on a good show up through the cavalry battle, anyway.

The scene closes out on Katsuki’s contemplative expression.

In the back stage walkways, Endeavor tracks down Shouto once again in order to talk. SHouto says nothing, prompting Endeavor to make a comment on Shouto not telling him to get out of the way this time. Without control over his flames, going all out is dangerous - but he’s finally put aside his childish rebellion. He’s ready to replace Endeavor - to surpass him, even. He tells Shouto to work at his side after he graduates, and that he’ll guide him down the path to supremacy.

Shouto butts in, saying he hasn’t put aside anything. Endeavor is struck speechless. Shouto is not one to be turned that easily. It’s just that… in the moment… in that instant… he forgot all about Endeavor. Whether that’s good, bad, or something in between… that’s something he’ll have to think about.

God, I love this, not just for Shouto managing to hit harder with those words than all his anger before, but because Endeavor himself is struck speechless with this change and blunt admittance. It’s a small peek into his character development to come, and god does it make me want a look into his head in that instant.

...honestly. In retrospect, and acknowledging how far he’s come since here, I can’t help but wonder if this was actually a kicking off point for his development, that only really got seen much further down the line. 

We shift to Recovery Girl’s office, where Toshinori looks on his heavily injured successor. Recovery Girl tells him that Izuku’s right arm is shattered, and that it won’t be easy to set back to normal. First, she has to remove the bone splinters from his joints, and healing comes after. The boy admires All Might so much that he’s willing to destroy himself. Toshinori lit that fire. Toshinori moved him to this. She doesn’t like it, not one bit. Toshinori is overdoing it - him and Izuku - so he’d better not praise the kid for it. 

Several of Izuku’s friends slam their way into the room, worried for him. Poor Toshinori is startled in the process, clutching at his chest. Ochako gives an aside greeting to him, while Izuku notes that the next match is coming up. Tenya tells him that the arena was mostly destroyed, so there’s a break while it’s being repairs. Ochako adds on that they came because they were worried. 

Mineta comments on how that was scary as hell, and that no pro will want to hire him. Tsuyu slaps him with her tongue, commenting on how she can’t say she likes his rubbing-salt-in-the--would style. Mineta argues that he’s right, though. Recovery Girl tells them to pipe down as she starts shooing them out the door, stating that it’s fine to worry, but he’s about to have surgery. All of the kids are shook at this.

Izuku gets Toshinori’s attention by apologizing. He couldn’t do it. Maybe if he’d just shut up… but he had to say what he did to Shouto. Toshinori is speechless for a moment, seeing how distressed Izuku is at his perceived failure. 

He eventually notes that Izuku was trying to bring it out of him. Izuku agrees, saying that it was just too sad. He thought, maybe he should just mind his own business… but, he had to… at that point, he couldn’t take it anymore. It was so frustrating. He forgot why he was there… he lost himself. He then apologizes again, leaving Toshinori with no words. 

Recovery Girl finally succeeds in shooing out the other kids as Toshinori finds his words again. He calls the match an unfortunate outcome, indeed. And calling Izuku a fool won’t change what happened. However, giving help that’s not asked for… is what makes a true hero. Izuku himself seems to have no reply to that. 

We close out with a few shots of Shouto making his way into the arena with a new uniform to replace the one he half-destroyed, while the narration notes how Izuku finished in the top eight. 

Sorry for this being late by a day, but just. Wow. This match is just… in the manga, it feels just a bit different. And this aftermath, I think, makes it hit all the harder, what Izuku gave in order to save someone from themself. He feels like he disappointed All Might for prioritizing someone else’s life, and I just. This kid. This kid.

I’ll try to get through the rest of the chapters of this arc over the next week, then take a break before tackling hosu and all that stuff. See y’all tomorrow, hopefully.

[the-hate-keeps-me-warm]

weed garden

now I know this joke is dead but I ended up over writing this so some of it got cut this is my first real fic vie published i hope you like it if not feel free to make fun of me  It was ruby's idea she was stressed about well everything and she knew yang and Blake had a lot of it, it was legal in atlas after all she only took a little they probably wouldn't even notice she had it for a week just to make sure they didn't

They were sitting alone after training oscar was sweaty and looked tired she leaned over "So Oscar uh what do you think of smoking"  He raised an eyebrow "well my aunt smoked cigarettes  and a bit of weed during the winter" he said putting long memory on his hip "Uh why the winter," she asked meeting his raised brow "Well there's not as much work to do in the winter so you can slack off a lot more" he responded "Well uh what about you have you ever smoked" she tried not to seem too obvious but she started to nervously fidget with her hands “Uh well my aunt let me smoke a cigarette once when I was 12, but I think that was to make me hate them she bought the most bitter horrible tasting ones she could," he said a faint look of annoyance at his aunt going across his face She giggled and said "from what you tell me that sounds very like her but like uh would you smoke weed like now I mean" He rubbed the back of his neck his eyes darted to her "well uh maybe with someone I trust" She bit her lip and said "well do you trust me" His ears got a little red "well of course I trust you, id smoke with you if you asked" 

"Well I'm asking Weiss is going to one of those art show thingies blake and yang are going to uh do whatever it is they do so I'll have the  room all to myself so I  thought that maybe we could do it together smoking I mean" her cheeks grew red to match his ears He nodded his head just slightly "I uh sure do you want me to bring cookies my aunt would always ask me to bake for her after she smoked" She smiles wide "yeees please the Peanut butter chocolate chip ones or the strawberry ones there the best" His face started to get flushed too "I uh I can make you both I’m assuming you're supplying the, uh you know weed" "Well yeah but that's gonna take a while won’t it, you don't have to make both," she said trying to hide the fact that she wanted both of them "No no I'll make them ironwood gave me access to the cafeteria kitchen so it won't take very long at all" he fiddled with his hands "and besides I know you like my baking and I like doing it for you" She smiled "he likes baking for me," she thought while trying not to giggle "well then I won't stop you I'll bring those pretzels you like" He smiled a little "I won't tell anyone were doing this" he stood up and said "I’ll see you tomorrow I got to get baking I might make some other things" 

She nodded her head and they split up when she got back to her room she was practically bouncing with excitement yang was sitting on her bed "why aren't you tired you and Oscar were training all day" her face flushed a little "Well I’m just kinda excited  I’m gonna have the room all to myself" she says trying not to be super obvious "I saw you and oscar talking after you trained did you invite him over," blake says hidden in her bunk “damn you blake” she thought  Yang beams excitedly "is it a date!" "What no I just invited him over to eat junk food and play video games" she waved her hands around frantically not helping her case 

 Yang deadpans "you asked him to come to your dorm room alone he might be oscar but he's still a teenage boy ruby he’s gonna think it’s a date" Ruby crossed her arms and grumbled "Look if you don't like him that's ok but it's obvious to everyone how much he likes you so if you don’t like him don't lead him on make sure he understands how you feel" Blake chimed in peeking out from her bunk 

"I uh I think I like him but I don't know if I want things to change yet and I'm not even sure if he likes  me " she sits down on her bed 

Yang hops down from her bed and sits next to ruby throwing an arm around her shoulder "that's perfectly ok if you feel that way but oscar likes you the way he stares at you the way he talks about you it's obvious" she smiles at ruby's red cheeks and tries to finish  her speech with "but if you do decide you like him to make sure to practice safe-uhg" ruby ends it with a punch to the gut "Yaaang shut up even if i do like him I'm not talking about that" she squeaks and reals back for another punch yang puts her hands up in surrender "Alright Oscar would probably have a heart attack anyway I’m just saying" yang kisses ruby on the forehead like she always did "you should try to talk to him about it ok" Ruby grumbles a simple "I’ll try" 

Oscar is having a similar time 

Nora hugs him tightly "ooo my baby's going on a date" oscar blushes as ren pulls Nora off of him "It’s not a date she just invited me over to play video games and stuff" he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly Jaune sitting at the small table "Oscar you know she's into you and isn't it weird that she waited till everyone would be gone to invite you over" Oscars face flushed an even deeper red than it had been before and he frowns  "well I don't think she is I’m sure she has lots of better  people to choose from" Ren put his hand on Oscar’s shoulder "Oscar please do not doubt yourself you’re great" 

"Yeah you’re a total catch Oscar your smart cute strong brave you have freckles and your cool with the headmaster of atlas" Nora chimed in counting his positive traits on her fingers "Thanks" is the only response Oscar can think of his embarrassment only growing "Now you need to pick out what your gonna wear and what your gonna say," Nora says standing quickly "Nora he doesn't need us to meddle with it if you need to advise Oscar you just have to ask I would recommend wearing something casual," ren said "Alright I will" 

They both went to bed thinking about their little 'date' in the morning oscar started baking and when he has a lot on his mind he tends to overdo it so he ended up making both batches of cookies a mini strawberry cake a dish of brownies and french toast casserole for breakfast 

After wby left ruby spent the morning gathering snacks and making the room as comfy as possible as well as gathering Oscars and her favorite games she remembered yang saying that her first time smoking sucked so she wanted to make sure she and Oscars  first time was fun 

Oscar had gone back to the dorm with all the food packed carefully to get ready Ren was the only one in the room he was sitting on Nora’s bed reading “oscar before you go I need to talk to you please sit” ren sounded serious and not in his normal way so he sat across from him “now Jaune and I didn’t bring this up earlier but we decided it was important to talk to you about because your 15 and we both know what it was like being that age and we know you like ruby a lot” he talked like how oscar imagined his father would “Uh yeah so what is this about” oscar had a vague idea in his head of what it was “I’m going to give you the talk I know your aunt gave you one but I think it’s a good idea for another man to talk to you as well,” ren said closing his book and leaning forward So then began  5 minutes of surprisingly not awkward conversation ren was very easy to talk to ren finished the conversation with handing oscar a condom “now I know you probably won’t use this but I want you to be safe ok and please don’t do anything you don’t think you’re ready for” Oscars’ face was pretty red after that but he put the condom in his back  pocket and thanked ren before taking everything he needed to Ruby's room She opened the door right as he was about to knock “oscar I was just about to come to get you” She said trying to act casual “Oh uh am I late,” he asked he would look at his watch but his hands were very full she takes the containers from his arms and sets them with ease on the little table next to the window

“Nope I was just getting impatient,” she says spinning back around to face him she was in her pajamas he thought she looked really cute he was just wearing his old pants and a comfy sweater he had bought in argus “Well do you want to uh you know smoke” he tried to not sound awkward but the boy can only do so much “Yeah sure let me get it” she was excited to finally be able to relax with him she lifted her mattress and pulled out the joint it was in a plastic bag with the lighter she had picked up in atlas she sits down on her bed which she had piled blankets and pillows on she beckons him to sit with her and he does leave space between them 

“Alright so I guess I’ll go first,” she says lighting the joint then inhaling and immediately coughing 

Oscar leans closer “are you ok” the actual worry in his voice makes rubies heart squeeze a little but she tries to play it cool “yeah yeah it’s just rough do you want to try,” she says holding it out to him he gently takes is and holds it up to his lips slowly inhaling then coughing himself covering his mouth and holding it back out to her “your right that’s rough” 

Ruby laughs “I told you” they pass it back and forth for a little bit they had both begun to feel it then oscar giggles 

“What’s so funny,” she says nudging him with her shoulders he giggles again and says “your name is ruby carmine  rose all your names are words for red” ruby laughs “ha your right wait what’s your middle name is it funny” oscar leans back onto a pillow “no its magus it means uh sorcerer oh I don’t like that I just put that together” oscar starts to laugh and in between laughs says  “ha that makes way too much sense man maybe destiny exist it was my great grandfather’s name, oh god” Oscars laugh becomes Weezy and ruby leans on him “well I think its a cool name” oscar stops laughing and says “well I guess it is its fitting at least right” he inhales again and passes it back to ruby it’s over halfway burned out she's been asking it in an old red solo cup “you know what about we bust out those snacks I don’t know about you but I’m really hungry” she sits up oscar does right after he stands and gets the cookies before she does he hands her the tupperware box of the strawberry chocolate chip she smiles and giggles “thanks cookie” she says bursting into laughter after 

Oscar cocks his head to the side “cookie?” rubies laughter grows more intense “it’s my nickname for you in my head it’s so dumb it’s because your sweet and your freckles look like chocolate chips” oscar started to laugh as well “that’s adorable ruby” he says as her face gets red they both sit back down this time oscar leaning on ruby and then their silent ruby thought maybe oscar had fallen asleep “You know ruby you are like the coolest person I’ve ever met like your the youngest person to get to beacon a silver-eyed warrior and your the leader of your team that’s  all amazing,” he said still leaned against her she smiled and her face got hot 

“Well I think you’re cool to oscar,” she said munching on a strawberry chocolate chip cookie 

 He looks up with the biggest smile she’s ever seen him wear “thanks that means a lot” he bites his lip “do you wanna play some video games” he said with a mischievous grin 

“Yes I was looking forward to kicking your ass,” she said as they pull their scrolls out and start playing Grimm beat down Vl a game ruby rocked at and oscar had never managed to beat her at when they started to play and oscar was doing way too well he was doing combos and not just button mashing he was blocking and dodging ruby was getting frustrated she leaned forward preparing to up her game and up her game she did but it wasn’t enough oscar took the first round than the second even ending it with a fatality 

Ruby groaned in frustration taking another drag of the joint then passing it to oscar “how did you get so good is it the weed do you have weed powers”

Oscar laughed and said “I don’t know I just feel super relaxed and your moving slower” She crosses her arms with a fake pout “were gonna say weed powers hm what do you wanna do now I am tired but a nap seems like a waste" There's a sparkle in Oscars eye "a nap sounds awesome" Well uh wanna take a nap I thought you were  asleep earlier" he lays his head back down on her shoulder "You know usually id be nervous about being so close to you but this is nice you smell like metal" "Hm really? I thought I’d smell like weed or I don't know rose petals," she says "Well you do smell like weed but mostly metal When you use your semblance you do smell like roses but when you work with crescent rose a bunch you smell like metal oh wow that probably sounded creepy" She shakes her head "no its kinda sweet you smell like weed and cookies my favorite smell" 

"Thanks, I guess," oscar says then goes silent his breathing slows down after a while she looks at him and he looks like he’s asleep she needs to grab another cookie so she carefully lays him down and grabs another cookie trying to quietly eat it revealing in its deliciousness after finishing it she lays down beside him resting her head on his chest "he's really warm," she thinks and then drifts off to the most peaceful sleep she's had in a long time

___________________________________

sorry if this was formatted badly or its just bad i liked making it tho 

[imaginedhaven]

Reluctantly Rooming: Part Fourteen

Link to Masterpost

Good things are coming! I hope you enjoy this. I’m hoping to get the next part out on Monday, before we all hide away from the internet with ACOSF and don’t come back until we’re all done reading.

Today’s prompts:

Person A walking in on Person B changing

and

Rowan walking in on Aelin doing her nails and talking to Lysandra

~*~*~

Aelin called Lysandra and set her phone to speaker mode as she carefully painted her nails in a shade of dark red. “Come on, pick up,” she muttered as the phone rang.

Finally, her friend picked up. “Don’t you have someone cuter than me to bother?”

Aelin laughed despite herself. “There’s no one cuter than you, except maybe for me.”

“I’m flattered. Isn’t this the big day? What are you doing talking to me when you’ve got a smoking hot roommate to not-date?”

It was. In about eight hours, she would be heading to some hotel’s ballroom on Rowan’s arm and staying near him to make sure his ex, Remelle, got the hint and stopped bothering him. Every time she dwelled on it for too long, she felt a fluttering sensation in her chest, and so she was trying to distract herself as much as possible.

Now, though, she needed the help of her closest friend. “It is, and I’m calling you for advice.”

“Surely you’ve done all of this before. Drinks, dancing, maybe coming back and waking up in your date’s bed…”

“Lys!” she shouted, scandalized, before dropping her voice. “He’s here. What if he hears you?”

“Then you can thank me for getting you laid despite your best efforts. Now, what do you need my help for?”

Aelin sighed and glanced at the pile of clothing currently scattered over her bed. “I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to wear to this thing. I think I’ve gone through my whole closet twice.”

The sound of her friend’s laughter rang through the room. “Did he not tell you what kind of party this is? Or are you trying to decide because you want to look good for him?”

“Lysandra, you can’t just say things like that!” Aelin hissed, fearing her cheeks were turning as red as the polish on her nails. “I have you on speaker while I’m letting my nails dry.”

“You almost never bother with your nails. This must be really important.”

It was, though Aelin was certainly not going to admit it. “Are you going to help or not?”

“Of course I’ll help. I just can’t believe you think you seriously need my help to look good for a guy.”

“It’s not even that,” she protested. “This is a big deal, okay, these are his coworkers and even though this isn’t real whatever impression I make will impact him going forward at work.”

“Okay, yeah, I see your point. So you want to look like you’re a reasonably well put-together adult, but you also want to look hot.”

“I love that you know me well enough by now to know that that part isn’t a question.” Aelin smiled at her reflection in the mirror, only to jump out of her seat as her door opened without warning.

“Hey, I wanted to make sure you…” Rowan’s voice trailed off, and she blushed as she recalled that she’d stripped down to a bra and panties as she raided her closet.

“Hey, wait, what’s going on?” Lysandra’s voice sounded confused, even through the tinniness of the speaker.

Aelin did her best not to actually look at Rowan, but she couldn’t help chancing a quick glance at his face. He was looking back at her as well, confusion clear in pine-green eyes, and she bit her lip before picking up the phone again. “Yeah, Lys, I’m gonna have to call you back, okay?” She hung up without waiting for an answer and then reached for the robe she’d thrown over her bed.

Rowan spoke again as she tied the robe around her waist. “I just wanted to see if you needed anything from me before we have to get ready.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Rowan’s eyes left her, finally seeing the utter wreck her bedroom had become. “What happened in here?”

“Picking an outfit happened here. I want to make sure I don’t embarrass you, is all.”

He nodded, glancing over the options she had cast aside on her bed before stepping into her closet. “Are you just looking for general advice, or do you actually want help?”

“You know what? Sure. I can’t promise I’ll pick it, but show me what you think would be best.” If nothing else, she’d get an idea of the formality of the event from him doing so.

He hummed an acknowledgment, and the sound of rustling fabric filled the air. Finally, he stepped back into her room with a hanger in his hand. “I like this one.”

She looked it over and slowly smiled. She’d forgotten about this option entirely. “I bought it years ago on a whim, but it was too old for me at the time. Maybe it’ll look better now.”

She already knew it would, and she couldn’t deny the small thrill she felt at the idea of wearing a dress that Rowan had specifically mentioned he liked. She wouldn’t say as much to him, but she knew her decision was made.

~*~*~

Several hours later, Aelin grinned at her reflection as she admired the dress Rowan had selected. It was black velvet, the neckline embroidered in gold and skimming her collarbones before flowing into long sleeves. What was more interesting, though, was the back.

It was cut almost dangerously low, low enough that she would be going without a bra for the evening, and the embroidery continued, forming the shape of a dragon along the edge of the fabric. From there, the fabric hugged her waist and hips before flaring out into a skirt that ended just above her knees.

As she had hoped, she had matured enough that she filled it out nicely now despite the richness of the fabric and the embroidery. She had paired it with a simple pair of black heels and no further accessories, allowing the dress to speak for itself, and she had simply pulled her hair into a half-up, half-down style with loose curls.

She was as ready as she could be, dressed to do battle with whoever dared question her presence at Rowan’s side. She just had to make sure he was ready as well.

She knocked once on his door before pushing it open, only to freeze in the entryway to his room.

Rowan was standing by his own closet, black dress pants open and slung low on his hips as he looked through a drawer and pulled out an undershirt. He tried to turn to her as he put it on, only to somehow get stuck in the fabric with a growl.

Aelin laughed, crossing the room before gently tugging the shirt over his head and smoothing his platinum locks with her fingers. “If I’d known dressing was going to be such a struggle for you, I’d have come by sooner,” she teased.

He scowled at her, but didn’t disagree as he turned to grab a dress shirt. “How long have you been waiting?”

“I haven’t been. I just finished getting ready myself.” Telling herself it was only because to save time, she deftly buttoned his shirt, stopping herself from reaching for his pants and hoping she wasn’t blushing as she stepped back.

If she was, he didn’t notice. “Good. That looks nice, by the way.”

“You’re not even looking.” It was true; he was leaning back into the closet, pulling out a tie and his jacket.

“I saw you when you walked in.” As always, his voice was matter-of-fact to the extent that she found it impossible to figure out if he meant anything by it. That was truly the most maddening part of having him for a roommate.

Aelin coaxed a smile onto her face regardless. “I see. You need anything else?”

“I need you to make sure you’ll be warm enough. We’ll take my car to get there, but it’ll still be a cold walk to the lobby.”

“I asked if you needed anything,” she laughed. “Not for you to fuss at me.”

He shook his head, green eyes bright with amusement. “I’m almost ready. If you head on down, I’ll be right behind you.”

Aelin nodded and left before she embarrassed herself any further, slipping down the stairs as quietly as her heels would allow.

Gods, what was she thinking? This was a terrible idea. He was a successful professional, and she was playing at being an adult and pretending she deserved to be seen with him. She would just go up the stairs and tell him she couldn’t do it after all. Maybe if she was lucky she would actually twist her ankle on the way up, and they would both have an excuse to skip the party.

Before she could move, though, she heard footsteps on the stairs and soon he was joining her in the living room. As he moved, she couldn’t help but stare; his dark suit fit snugly against his trim torso, highlighting his muscled shoulders. She was used to seeing Rowan wear a shirt and tie, but seeing him in a suit was something else altogether.

Gods, she really wasn’t going to make it through the evening at all.

“Are you ready?” he asked, and from his expression she had to wonder if he could read her nerves. He stepped closer, and she bit her lip and nodded mutely.

He smiled. “Good. Let’s go.”

He grabbed their coats, handing hers over to her before slipping on his own. Soon they were out the door, and despite having grown up in Terrasen Aelin couldn’t quite hold back the gasp at the sudden cold of stepping outside. He glanced at her as if to say I told you so before quietly opening the passenger door of his car for her.

She took a deep breath. Once she got into his car, there was no going back and she would have to see this night through to whatever end. Her nerves threatened to overtake her, but before she could back out a sudden calm settled over her and a single thought entered her mind.

I am Aelin Galathynius, and I will not be afraid.

Aelin slid into the car and closed the door, and soon they were on their way.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou @mymultiversee @swankii-art-teacher @rowansfirebringer @livsdriverslicense @courtofjurdan @danibutterr @woollycat22 @rowaelinismyotp @sleeping-and-books @acciowests @stardelia @anidealiveson @autophobiaxx @rainbowcheetah512 @camilamartinezdunne

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Paintings & picture frames. [Pt. 2]

Daryl Dixon x Reader [Pt.1] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7]

Time for art college classes!

Your partner’s name was Daryl Dixon, a photography student.

After spending, in your opinion, way too much time looking for your partner and asking ever student with a camera their name you needed a break from people and went outside mumbling to yourself about how you were ever going to find your study partner. Being so deep in thought you didn’t watch where you were going and ran into someone.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed before looking up and seeing the guy that ran into you yesterday. You saw he also had a partner program paper sticking out from his bag. “You found your partner yet?” He shook his head and took a drag from his cigarette. “Nah, ain’t doin that shit.” He took the paper from his bag and crumpled it up into a ball before throwing it at you and walking off. “Let them know they’re gonna need a new one.”

Unfolding the paper you checked the name on his paper to see if you happened to know the student paired up with this asshole. You weren’t happy when you read your own name on his paper. “Ah great..” you sighed and ran after him. “Yo, Dixon! Wait up!”

He stopped and turned around. “The fuck you know my name? It ain’t on the paper” you stopped in front of him, holding your own paper to his face. “It is on mine. Now why aren’t you joining the assignment?” You weren’t gonna let this guy ruin your first week for whatever reason he was gonna come up with. He clearly got the hint as he sighed and motioned for you to follow him. You both walked past the building to the parking lot, past all the cars to the bike spaces where he stopped at one that was more of a pile of mismatched parts than an actual bike. “So, are you gonna tell me or what?” You asked as he tied his bag to his bike and grabbed another cigarette. “If ya were from around here I wouldn’t have to tell ya. Never heard o’ me before?”

Why wasn’t he just answering the question. “Well I’m obviously not from here so either you tell me or suck it up and work with me for two days.” You shoved your paper at him again. “After that you can go back to being your sad, loner self. Deal?” You had to make sure this worked and you had a good starting week. You weren't gonna let anyone ruin that for you. Daryl realized this and decided it would be for the best if he’d get this partner project done with someone who doesn’t think bad of him yet.

“Ya okay.” Was all he mumbled before grabbing your paper and pen from your hands and signed his name before holding the pen towards you. “C’mon. Ain’t got all day.”

You took the pen and signed your name on the crumpled paper. “Want me to go hand them in?” Holding out your hand, you were kind of expecting him to hand over the paper and leave without saying much more, but instead he kindly thanked you for offering and agreed to meet you back here in the morning to properly start the day.

Surprised you left for the large hall to hand in your papers and head back home for an early end of your day.

You spent the most of yesterday evening wondering what kind of classes you were going to have during your one day of studying photography since you never talked about it with Daryl. You thought of him on your way to college, wondering if he was gonna show up at all or if you were even allowed to still take your photography classes when your partner wasn’t with you.

Your worries were quickly dismissed when a motorcycle passed you at the school gate and you noticed a set of wings you caught a glimpse of yesterday as you followed he rumbling sounds to their destination.

Since work was on your way you picked up a large thermos of your favorite coffee, freshly brewed by your boss who had just opened up for the early customers. You offered Daryl one of the cups and he accepted it with a small hesitation and a confused look on his face. He mumbled a quick thanks before grabbing a cigarette and taking a swig of coffee. “Hm. ‘Sgood coffee.” He hummed happily.

You accepted the now empty cup back in surprise, all while you were currently trying not to burn your mouth with the hot beverage. You nodded in agreement. “My boss brewed it this morning, she makes it the best in my opinion.” He raised an eyebrow at you as to ask for more on the subject as he took a last drag of his cigarette and put it out on the trashcan outside the entrance.

“I work at that diner near the edge of town, the one at the trailer park entrance? I live on my own so I needed a job and this pays he bills plus extra.” You weren’t given much of a verbal response, just an acknowledging nod and a soft hum.

You walked the rest of the way to Daryl and your’s first class of the day in silence and only discussed the study material during the lecture. You had exchanged phone numbers over the course of the day and both went your own ways during lunch breaks. At the end of the day you said your goodbyes and went home without much friendly chatter.

You worked again that evening, serving all kinds of people and discussing with Tiana, the nice coworker, who the strangest customer of the day was. During cleanup you talked about school and how your assignment with Daryl was going. She questioned your head off about him, hoping to get some gossiping done during her shift but you explained that there wasn’t much to talk about since he barely spoke.

“Really, all I know is that he has amazing photography skills, drives a motorcycle to school every day and his last name’s Dixon.” She shot up from her seat at that name. “Dixon? As in that woman that burned down her entire house with a cigarette bud Dixon? Or the only person that got banned for assaulting a waitress here? Or maybe the old man that comes in to threaten our staff because our smokes vending machine ran out of his favorite brand..”

You weren’t sure how to respond to all of that. Was this why Daryl was so quiet and didn’t want to work with anyone before? There was no way you were gonna ask him about something so personal after only knowing him for such a short time. Honestly you were hoping you’d just forget about it all in the morning.

[beomglocks]

colors ; k.th

part of the badlands series!

colors: “you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece.”

based off halsey’s badlands album.

warnings and other: museum curator!taehyun, old money!y/n, mentions of depression and grass smoking, little bit of angst i guess??

taehyun sighed as he took down the 11th painting this week. the museum hadn't been very busy in the past couple of weeks, maybe because the weather was getting colder. one part of him figured that many people just wanted to be bundled up at home watching holiday themed movies and drinking warm drinks rather than appreciating enchanting artworks.

he couldn't fool himself though, he knew the truth. today's generation didn't care about the fine arts anymore. a shame, seeing as everything around them seemed to be inspired by it.

kang taehyun worked at his local museum. he had been offered the position by the owner one night while roaming the place. this should've been a red flag looking back. the owner seemed desperate for someone to fill in the position since the previous employee had left without notice. nonetheless, taehyun took the job and didn't regret it one bit.

open 24/7, the red haired boy was always working on the clock. not that there was much to do seeing as most of the people his age or even a bit older didn't hang around museums purely for the joy of it. actually, his only job was to exhibit the newly arrived collections, clean and dust them off, and conduct regular tours and workshops for the public. due to this and the fact that not many people even came by he would take regular breaks.

once in a while you'd see the occasional old person or art expertee roaming around the small museum. if you were lucky, you'd see the local edgy teens posing next to a piece they didn't understand just to get an aesthetic picture. taehyun would also have the unfortunate job of shooing them away or scolding them for getting just a bit too close.

recently his boss, who was the museum manager and maybe the only other person besides taehyun that worked there, had informed him that due to funds and unfortunate unforeseen events, the museum would be closing down in about a month from now. this caused taehyun to fall deep into a depression since this was his only job and he loved it here. the museum was like his second home. he found comfort in the silent images displayed throughout the building. they always told him a story and when new pieces came in he would sit and stare attentively at the new anecdote being told to him.

taehyun smiled sadly at the piece he had just taken down. it was a painting of 2 people kissing however both of their faces were covered by white cloths. this was his favorite and he didn't even have a clue as to why. probably because of the uncertainty of what the other was feeling or because of the fact that the other couldn't see each other's faces through the cloth, that would've made the kiss more exciting in his opinion.

he stepped out of the museum and into the frosty air of the outside world. it was only autumn so why was it so cold? he thought to himself. he discreetly pulled out a prerolled blunt and his white lighter from his pocket. he lit it and stuck in between his slightly chapped lips.

maybe smoking dope wasn't the healthiest thing in the world, especially for a boy so young, barely 19, but it helped taehyun get his mind off the inevitably of losing his job and being homeless for the winter. he shuttered at the thought. he would have to room with one of his friends, he sighed shaking his head. no, he didn't want to be a burden, yeonjun had helped him enough as it is.

he looked at his surroundings taking in the cold autumn afternoon. the trees had long lost their leaves and were bare. the sky was a murky gray color as if it were threatening to rain any time soon. he noticed a girl bundled up in winter clothes near the entrance of the building glance at him. he smiled at her and she jumped at the eye contact, thinking that he wouldn't catch her. taehyun chuckled as he watched her rush into the museum. "back to work," he said out loud to himself.

once the blunt had been almost gone, he smoked what was left of it and headed back into the empty museum. he was feeling light-headed, the effects of the blunt finally taking action, but taehyun was used to it so it barely affected him as much.

he made his way to the girl who was now starting to take off her jacket and scarf. taehyun tapped on the girl's shoulder to get her attention. "hi," he smiled at the girl, showing off his dazzling smile. "if you'd like, i could give you a tour of the museum." well what's left of it anyways, he thought to himself.

"oh...no thank you," said the girl. she smiled warmly at the worker. "well not to be invasive of your decision but it's sort of in my job description," taehyun replied as he rubbed the back of his neck. the girl sighed in defeat, "i guess i have no choice then."

taehyun laughed as he took her coat and scarf to hang up in the public closet, "yep, trust me. they say im not that bad of a tour guide, im quite fun to be around if i do say so myself. i promise not to bore you too much." the girl nodded, not entirely convinced. "if i do end up bored i will hold you accountable..." she took a moment to take a peek at taehyun's name tag, "kang taehyun," she joked.

as they walked through the museum the girl couldn't help but notice that it was fairly empty. "why are there almost no paintings in here?" she laughed hesitantly. "i thought this was a museum?" taehyun stopped walking, turning to her with a sad expression on his face.

"the museum is expected to close in about a month or so," he stated simply. "oh...that's terrible. may i ask why?" the girl responded. "my boss says we've run out of funds or something like that," taehyun chuckled bitterly. "people don't really give a shit about good art these days anyways."

"that's a shame..."

they continued to look through the various paintings that were still up and occasionally the girl would ask to see the ones that were taken down and left on the floor. it seemed the two were lost in each other's company as night started to approach.

"thank you for the tour of this lovely museum taehyun. it was fun but it's a shame such a nice museum like this is closing down," the girl said softly. taehyun nodded solemnly, he just wanted to get this day over with and crash at his apartment. he didn't blame the girl before him but talking to her reminded him of his harsh reality. a notification coming from the girl's bag made both of them jump as they were both lost in their thoughts.

"ah, that must be my father. he's kind of annoying when it comes to my curfew," she chuckled, digging her phone from her bag. taehyun watched her with a bored expression until his eyes reached her bag. he hadn't noticed this earlier but she had been carrying a louis vuitton bag. his eyes bulged at the expensive item that was so close to him, they got even larger when she fished out the latest iphone from it.

taehyun wasn't poor per se, he had just enough to get by since he was living paycheck to paycheck. however, he had never been in such close proximity to any luxury items. he suddenly felt weird being this close to this girl.

"what do you mean by curfew?" taehyun asks hesitantly. the girl sighs, "my father is one of south korea's richest chaebol's, maybe one of the big three at his point." she rolled her eyes as if this information was nothing. "he's super strict with me because i guess i'm just his show pony daughter whom he can show off to say he's a good father."

taehyun gulped, had he just been casually hanging out with the daughter of one of the richest men in korea? he felt sick at this. she looked up at taehyun's uneasy expression, "oh my god im sorry i just dumped that all on you! i just needed to catch a break so i came here, i didn't mean to drag you into my life story."

taehyun fixes his face, laughing nervously, "no- no its fine really. we all need a break sometimes right? im glad you got to have that time here." the girl smiled up at him, completely misreading his nervous laughter, "im glad i got to spend it here with you taehyun."

"oh before i go!" taehyun watched her pull out a checkbook from her bag and his stomach dropped. he silently watched her scribble some stuff onto the slip and tear it out, handing it to him.

"there's not too much i can take out of my account without my father flipping out but i hope this helps even just a little. whether it be in your personal life or with the museum."

taehyun eyes the check and chokes when he sees 50,000 dollars written neatly on the black line. he swears he can feel sweat going down his face like in the cartoons. "i- i cant possibly take this from you." he moves to hand the check back but the girl refuses to take it back. "taehyun, you love this museum with your entire being. i see the way to look at the paintings and the passion with which you explained them to me. i'd hate to see that taken away."

"plus, if you're gone who's gonna give me the tour when i come back?" she laughs as if this is something casual. taehyun's hands shake as he pockets the check, "i seriously cannot thank you enough...you don't know how much you just helped the museum and m-"

the girls phone dings again and she grumbles, "ugh why can't he just leave me alone. sorry but i think i really gotta go for real before he tracks my location or something crazy like that."

taehyun nods wistfully at the mention of her having to leave. he was really starting to enjoy her company.

"oh by the way," the girl giggles as she pulls her coat on hurriedly.  "was that you smoking weed at the corner of the museum earlier?" the girl chuckled to herself again just remembering it. taehyun furrowed his eyebrows, "why would you say that kind of thing at out loud and at my job?!" he scolded in a playful hushed voice.

"i just thought it was funny and you also smelled of weed the entire tour, i didn't mind though so don't worry," the girl concluded. she was starting to walk away towards out the door now. "i'll walk you out," taehyun offers. "such a helpful employee. is this in the job description too?" the girl jokes, turning to him while a smile on her lips. "well, not exactly," taehyun says smoothly.

she shakes her head, "i'll see you soon taehyun." he watches her walk off into the darkness of the night when he suddenly remembers something.

"hey what's your name by the way?" he shouts after the girl. for some reason taehyun really was hopeful of seeing her again.

"y/n!" came the disembodied voice of the girl he had just met.

[collecting-stories]

The Arrival - Ep. 01 - JJ Maybank

Summary: The pogues (and Sarah) decide to get away from the Outer Banks for senior week though Sarah’s suggestion that they spend the vacation with a friend of hers doesn’t sit well with JJ, who just wanted a week away with friends. Though his opinion of the situation may change his expectation that nothing will go according to plan is truer than they could have hoped.

A/N: This is a ‘they’re just regular teens and there was no gold hunt’ AU. This will be a 5 part story. 

The S’week Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

///

“No.” JJ shook his head, “no, no, absolutely not.”  

“Why not?” Sarah asked, looking back at her boyfriend for support. John B quickly looked away, staring out at the marsh in order to avoid the conversation.

“Why not? Because I’m not spending senior week with a bunch of fucking kooks while they prance around like their in some MTV reality show!” JJ stresses, voice raised. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it stuck up all over the place.  

“It might not be so bad,” Kie cut in, regretting it almost immediately when JJ looked over at her, “you said yourself that we’ve done senior week here...let’s do ours somewhere else?”

“Sure. Wherever you want as long as it’s not a trip to kookland.”  

“You are so dramatic, oh my god JJ. Last time I checked you weren’t exactly rolling in it. How do you propose we pay for a week down the beach?” Sarah pointed out.  

“You got money.”

“You shouldn’t even be going! It’s not like you fucking graduated, this is senior week. For graduating seniors.” Sarah waved her hand to indicate her, John B, Kiara, and Pope.  

“Screw you!”

“Guys!” Pope finally intervened, pushing his best friend back, “okay, let’s cool down.”  

“Can we please just go to the keys? I’m sick of wasting my time arguing. If we’re going we need to leave tomorrow morning...early.” Sarah said, looking pointedly at JJ.

“Hey, I’m always on time!”  

Despite his protests JJ was exactly where he said he’d be on Friday morning at 5:30a. Sitting outside John B’s house, on time and with his bag packed for Florida. He was the first one to arrive, followed by Kiara who’d almost been early if it wasn’t for the half hour argument she’d gotten into with her mom for leaving the week after graduation. As if that wasn’t ritual.  

JJ said nothing, unusually quite and still completely pissed that everyone had been so on board with Sarah’s plan to spend Senior Week in Florida with some friend at their grandparents’ vacation home. He wanted a chill holiday, just the four of them (five because John B couldn’t be separated from Sarah) spending every day on the beach. He didn’t want some kook vacation laying around a pool drinking vodka in crystal light and talking about ‘daddy’s credit card’ and whatever dumb shit else they did on their weekends.  

With the Twinkie packed to exploding with teenagers and luggage John B took the first leg of the drive south. JJ spent the trip sitting behind the passenger’s seat, rolling blunts in his lap and ignoring his friends excitement for senior week. When Kiara nudged his leg halfway to Florida and he looked over she smiled sympathetically at him.  

“It might be a good week.” Kiara tried to sound reassuring, knowing that it was JJ’s idea to go away in the first place and that they had in fact hijacked his plans, “at least the change of scenery will be nice?”

“So far the only good thing about this trip is not being home for a week.” JJ replied, refocusing on his task. He would definitely murder one of them if he didn’t spend the week at least somewhat buzzed. If you asked anyone in the obx they’d tell you that JJ was laid back and chill, a go-with-the-flow, weed smoking, kid who would probably never grow out of his ‘it is what it is’ phase. But that wasn’t JJ at all. Sure, he could hit up a kegger at the drop of a hat but he liked a plan and he liked the plan to consider him as an important factor. Not just another nameless sidekick to John B’s summer. And so far, that’s exactly what this senior week was shaping up to become.  

“It’ll be fine dude.” Pope said, voice low so he wouldn’t draw anyone else’s attention in the van.  

JJ looked up at him and frowned before nodding. What else could he do but nod and pretend that he agreed with anything that Pope said. They were already halfway to Florida and no one cared about his opinion.  

Sometime after that JJ fell asleep, Kiara taking the same case of blunts from his lap and folding everything up into his backpack. By the time Pope pulled the Twinkie into the horseshoe driveway of a house bigger than Tannyhill, JJ had woken up again, rubbing his eyes as he looked out the window.  

“This is the shit I was talking about.” He said.  

Sarah whipped around, hair flying against her shoulders as she glared at him, “for god sake JJ, can you have a good fucking time? Please.”  

John B made a face, pleading with his best friend to chill. All he wanted was a stress free vacation and the fact that Sarah’s friend was willing to let them stay aided his ability to relax. If only it would aid JJ’s.  

You were standing outside on the steps when the bus pulled up, engine cutting in the middle of the horseshoe. Kiara recognized you from school and Pope recognised you from running groceries for his dad. Sarah pulled the door open and jumped out, throwing her arms around your shoulders.  

“Oh my god, you have no idea how much I missed you.” Sarah said, pulling away, “I’m literally gonna kill everyone, starting with JJ.”

“That makes two of us princess.” JJ remarked, glaring at her as he climbed out of bus.  

“Hey,” Kiara called, drawing attention away from JJ and Sarah, “thanks for having us.”  

“Trust me I was just happy to tell Scarlett that her and Kelce couldn’t stay here.” You replied, looking over at JJ, “I’d much rather spend my senior week with you guys.”  

“Flattered.”  

“Hey, you’ve never had to sit around listening to Topper talk about workouts.” You replied, feeling unusually proud of yourself when JJ cracked a smile.  

“Oh come on, you can’t just do a bench press without the proper preparation,” JJ joked, imitating Topper’s ‘bro’ dialect.  

You laughed and nodded, following him to the trunk to help them unload packs. “Hey Pope, my mom said you got that scholarship you were going for?” You mentioned as you grabbed Sarah’s bag.  

“I did yeah,” he smiled, surprised that you knew or remembered anything about it. He definitely considered you better than some of the other kooks on the island but that didn’t make you friends with him. You were just someone he delivered groceries to every once in a while.  

Once the bus was unpacked you led the group inside, beginning the tour of the house. You lived on Figure Eight in the Outer Banks and you had a house as nice as or better than the Camerons’ but this house was even nicer than that. Your grandparents had old money and they had used it to retire to the Florida Keys where they really only spent the winter months.  

“There are four guest bedrooms, you can divy them up however you want to, I’m this bedroom,” you pointed to the closed door behind you at the end of the hall. “The master is off limits, it’s my grandparents and they’ll murder all of you before JJ even gets the chance if you step foot in their room.” You instructed, looking over to JJ as you spoke. He smiled.

“How’ll they know?” He asked, looking down the hall toward the double doors of the master bedroom. This house could fit four of his inside of it. He shifted his weight as he looked around the hallway, the art on the wall looked like something he would have seen on a field trip to a museum, ugly and old but a clear representation of their wealth.  

“There’s a camera in their room.”

“Kinky.”

“Ew, oh my god JJ!” You practically gagged, causing him to laugh as Sarah scrunched up her face at the thought of your grandparents using the camera for anything more than G rated. “Moving on!” You continued through the whole house until you’d looped back around, reminding them again that the beach let out right behind the patio.  

Once the tour was over you pulled Sarah away from John B, telling her that you needed to talk to her alone. And truthfully, you did. You hadn’t been lying when you told her that you had turned Kelce and Scarlett away for the week. Kelce had texted you days before Sarah and asked about ‘all of us’ getting together for senior week at your grandparents. You knew what ‘all of us’ meant. Him, Scarlett, Topper, and (despite having graduated two years earlier), Rafe. If Sarah was still hanging out with them she would’ve been there too. That was the senior week Scarlett had always planned for but there wasn’t anything you wanted less in life than spending time with all your least favorite people.  

While everyone else unpacked you led Sarah into the kitchen, “so, I told you Kelce had texted me about them doing senior week here?”

“Yeah, but they’re not...”

“No,” you shook your head, “no I told them I had a full house. But they are here.”

“What do you mean here?”

“I mean they rented a place down the street. Like we can see their house from this house. Topper texted me this morning before you guys got here.” You fished your phone out of your pocket and showed Sarah the text that Topper had sent along with the picture of you out on your deck.  

“Bit stalkerish.”

“Sarah, not the point.”

“Look, it’s fine,” she replied, trying to play off that maybe she actually believed that it was fine, “they can do their thing and we’ll do ours.”  

“Yeah, that would totally be fine. Except your brother is here too.”  

Sarah groaned, “fuck.”

“What’s the matter?”  

You and Sarah turned to find John B and JJ coming into the kitchen, the latter going straight for the fridge and pulling out one of the beers that you had bought before they came down.  You watched as he popped the cap off on the counter and took a long gulp, head tilted back. Sarah smacked your arm to get your attention and both of the boys turned to look at her too.  

“Topper told me that he’s here for senior week. Him, Scarlett, Kelce...Rafe.”

“Oh cool...cool, awesome...so, the kook fucking vacation I said I didn’t want.” JJ replied, grip tightening around the beer bottle. Sarah rolled her eyes.

“It’s fine. It’s not like we have to see them.” John B replied, trying to ease his friend’s mood. He didn’t need this argument to flare up again. JJ had only just started to relax and the last thing John B wanted was for him to be in a shitty mood all week.  

“Except we always do. It’s fucking like...what’s the word?”

“Kismet?” You asked, pulling yourself up to sit on the counter as Kiara and Pope joined the small gathering.  

“What’s kismet?” Kiara asked, shaking her head when John B offered her a beer.  

“Topper and” Sarah waved her hand as if to indicate the rest of the group, “them are here.”

“What is kismet?” JJ asked, leaning toward you.  

“It means fate or destiny.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what it is. It’s my destiny to have the shittest fucking time imaginable because we all had to agree to Sarah’s kook vacation.”

“What is that, your vocabulary word for the day? I’m sorry that I didn’t envision senior week as us sitting around together in a dumpster motel with a bunch of other pogues trying to pretend that we’re not still in the Outer Banks. How dare I fucking plan an actual good vacation that you, oh that’s right, don’t have to pay for!”

“Guys,” Pope stressed the word as he stepped between Sarah and JJ, “can we please just focus on having a good time?”

“I’d have an awesome time if I was anywhere but here!” JJ shoved passed Pope and headed out the sliding glass doors toward the beach leaving the five of you to stand in the kitchen awkwardly.  

“So...” Kiara began, looking around at the group, “so Topper is here?”

“Topper, Kelce, Scarlett-”

“She’s a bitch.” Sarah cut in.

“-and Rafe.”

“Isn’t your brother a little too old to be partying on senior week?” Pope asked, looking toward Sarah. Rafe was at least two years into college by now, there was no way he should’ve been hanging around a bunch of high school kids. “Didn’t he already have a senior week?”

“He’ll probably go on senior week with Wheezie too.” You joked, “anything to party.”

“Honestly.” Sarah agreed. She had a feeling her brother’s intention was for more than just partying. If Kelce had planned to stay with you than it was obvious why Rafe was even coming down in the first place though she wasn’t about to say anything to anyone right now. Kiara, she assumed, knew that you had broken up with Rafe over spring break but she doubted that it was common island knowledge that you had been dating him at all.  

Pope suggested that it was a good idea to leave JJ be, that he’d eventually cool down and come inside on his own, especially once he realized that he had no means to get back to North Carolina. He either came in and accepted that this was the vacation they were getting or he camped out on the beach, either way he was stuck in Florida for the week. Still, you couldn’t help feeling guilty that he was having a shitty time. When Sarah had asked if she could stay with you for the week you had stressed whether it was okay with her friends or not.  

That guilty feeling was completely, so you said, the reason for heading down the beach to find JJ. “I did ask Sarah if it was cool with you guys...coming down here. I know it’s not exactly what you had in mind.” You offered as you sat beside JJ on the beach. In another hour the sun would be completely gone from the sky, the oranges and pinks in the horizon hinting at the coming night.  

“I feel like I should be bitching to a confessional about how much I can’t stand Sarah right now.” He replied.  

“I mean, you could try it?” You teased, moving so your back was to the water and you were facing  him, “alright JJ, tell us what’s got you so upset and try to include a tragic story from your past.”

JJ cracked a smile, meeting you eyes as he put on his best reality show sob voice, “I’m just like, really pissed at Sarah and it totally reminds me of the summer my turtle died.”  

You couldn’t help the burst of laughter as you fell back into the sand. JJ joined in, sour mood getting shelved for another day. He honestly didn’t hate the view or being near a beach, or the incredibly comfortable mattress that he had in the room he had claimed for himself. He was even hesitant to complain about you. Not quite the stuck-up kook that he expected, you’d been welcoming to them since the Twinkie first pulled into your driveway.  

“If it’s Top and them you aren’t thrilled about I don’t blame you. I was definitely looking forward to a drama free week and I feel like that might have just become unattainable. But, we’ll avoid them best we can and focus on other stuff.” You said, trying to ease his upset.

“Other stuff like?”  

“Other stuff like, I got invited to a party down the beach tonight...if you wanna go?” You asked, “I mean who can be sad when they’re drunk?”

“John B...never let him talk to you when he’s drunk.” JJ replied. He stood up and offered you his hand to grab.  

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You said, texting Sarah that you were headed down to a party with JJ.  

The party wasn’t far away and groups of people had already gathered despite it still being early in the night. People who had just shifted from lounging on the beach to the beginnings of what would become a party. It was still in the transition between disjointed groups sunbathing and people getting drunk as you and JJ walked up. He was quiet as you walked through people trying to find somewhere to set yourselves up.  

You weren’t sure if Sarah would really show up with everyone or if she was so peeved with JJ’s attitude that she’d stay away for the night. You kept an eye out for any sign of Topper or anyone else in his group, hoping to avoid them for as long as possible. Maybe the whole week if you were truly lucky.  

Beach parties in the keys were not as good as the boneyard parties you were used to but it would have to do for tonight.  A little less chill and relaxed, people seemed to be forcing the good time as opposed to just letting it happen. The chill vibe that you felt like it should’ve had was non-existent but you weren’t entirely sure that wasn’t just you projecting. Maybe everyone else was already having a good time and you were trying too hard already for the sake of the boy trailing  behind you. People had coolers sitting around with different seltzers, hard lemonades, seagrams, and locos but not a plain beer in sight. JJ complained about the missing keg and you tried to make up for it by offering him a peach Jack Daniels. You took a can of something called Unicorn Swirl, bypassing other people on the beach to sit up on the lifeguard’s deck.  

“This is disgusting, by the way.” JJ mentioned as he took a drink, face screwing up at the overtly sweet taste of the peach. He downed another gulp quickly, trying to trick his brain into not realizing the taste and only getting the alcohol.  

“You’ll be hard pressed to find a keg here.”

“So what I’m hearing is, even the parties are shit?”  

“Not total shit-” you paused to take a sip of your drink, JJ laughing as you almost spit it out. “Oh my god, that’s disgusting!” You gagged at the after taste, holding the 16oz can out for JJ to take, “try it.”

“You just spit it out and you want me to try it?”

“Just...you have to experience it...I can’t even describe that taste.” You replied, taking the peach from him to wash down the taste. “It doesn’t even have a flavor.”

JJ kicked it back, tilting his head and gulping. The sugary taste of whatever flavor they intended it to be made him gag worse than you had and he leaned all the way forward, spitting most of it back out onto the sand. “Holy shit! That is the worst fucking thing I’ve ever had in my life!” He exclaimed, “it tastes like fucking medicine! Why did you make me drink that?”  

“I didn’t make you.” You insisted, taking a sip from his peach.  

“You literally held it in my face and told me I ‘had to experience it’. How is that not making me?”

“Yeah  but I told you it was gross before you drank it so you already knew that.”

“I can’t believe you brought me to a beach party with nothing to drink.” He replied, taking another, smaller sip from the can and pulling a face as he made himself swallow.  

“Why are you still drinking that?”

“Trying to get drunk enough that this whole vacation doesn’t suck.” He shrugged.  

“Hey!” You reached over and smacked his arm, “the whole thing doesn’t suck! I’m super cool, what’re you talking about!”  

“Except you brought me to this party so...not as cool as you think you are.” He took another sip and gagged again, “god I have to stop drinking this.”

“Come on,” you put your peach down and grabbed the unicorn from his hand to abandon that on the lifeguard stand as well, “I know there’s a distributor around here...lets get some real beer.”  

“Sounds good to me, anything but this.” JJ replied, following you away from the crowd of people on the beach.  

-

Taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @howdyherron @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @tragicmisfits @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @jjsthumbring @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @minigranger @louisolos @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @finecelle @vitaminekabc @tiredfeels @g4bster @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @pensysto @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @lavenderxraindrops @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @thelonewolfdies @hvitost @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @mirjanak @kwjune @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @jolomez @timotaychalabae @babycakes00 @wowitswondergurl @siwiecola @regev1408 @celestialmaybank​ @mybnkjj​ @averagxfangirl​ @mysterious-adventurer​ @justawilddreamerchild​ @rhyetaylor62​ @calm-rejects​ @99sxuxii​ @oh-annaa​ @katiaw2​ @aiifandomsunite​ @thatjohnd @pixelated-pogues @booksandshish @lopineapples 

[shannygoatgruff]

Only Fan(s) - A Thriller

Genre: Thriller

Pairing: Modern Ivar/OC

Warning: Language, sex, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, sexual assault

Rating: MA+18

Summary: Sometimes OnlyFans subscribers want a little more than internet pictures. Sometimes they want to be your ONLY fan…

Header by: @flowers-in-your-hayr

Thanks to @xbellaxcarolinax for being my beta.

Disclaimer: This story will deal with some topics that might be a little uncomfortable for some people. As always, I’ll try to tackle the hard stuff as tactfully as possible.

a/n: I wrote this months ago and let it sit on the shelf. I’m finally ready to dust it off and give it another go...so let’s see what it do...

Part iii - Trifecta

Torren Sykes hadn’t lived what anyone would consider an exciting life. In fact, in her twenty-three years, she had only just left her mom’s double-wide trailer in East Bumble Fuck less than a year ago. Not quite 365 days later, she still didn’t have a pot to piss in, nor a window to throw it out of.

Truthfully, she usually didn’t know where she would be getting her next meal - that sort of thing wasn’t really a big deal to her. She actually liked the mystery of it all. There was something undeniably sexy about not knowing what the day would bring - who she would run into, or have to take something off of to survive. If someone else had to get hurt so she could make it through another day, such was life. She’d won. Those other people just needed to be better at playing the fucking game, plain and simple. 

Besides, pulling a caper or two kept her on her toes. She learned how to pull off the best of them from her mother. It’s not like adulting was one of Leslie’s strong suits. 

If only her mother had been more like her Me-Maw, now that woman was a saint. For reasons that Torren never cared to ask, she lived with her Me-Maw until she was five years old.  Leslie would periodically visit her to drop off the obligatory present on Christmas or her birthday if that bitch remembered. Not that they were ever good presents – just some cheap ass, unwrapped items she happened to pick up at the dollar store. Torren couldn't remember a gift that she had received wasn't still in the plastic bag with the receipt in it.

Cheap, whore.

Just once she would have liked a real baby doll from Toys-R-Us, instead of those cheap, hard, plastic dolls that the hand molds weren't cut out evenly, and the jagged edges cut the shit out of her face when she tried to sleep with it. But, that was Leslie. Torren didn't choose her; Leslie sure as shit didn't choose her daughter.

It became painfully clear to Torren that her mother didn’t want anything to do with her after her Me-Maw died. Unfortunately, she found herself as her mother’s unwitting roommate at a very young age, forcing the girl to spend a lot of time alone. 

By the time she turned nine, Torren was convinced that her mother was a prostitute and she was a trick baby. It was the only explanation she could come up with seeing as how her mother never worked but always had enough money to pay the rent, keep the lights on, and have plenty of booze, chips, and hot dogs in the fridge. 

Not that Torren had many other life experiences with a working parent to compare her situation to, but it just seemed pretty fucking difficult to have a job if one were passed out drunk all the fucking time. Besides, who had time to work when during your waking hours you were spending them with one of your many, many boyfriends? 

Torren used to wonder if one of the multitudes of men that would traipse in and out of that trailer were her father - but the more she got to know what type of person Leslie was, the more she realized that whoever that guy was, had gotten the hell out of dodge. 

Lucky son-of-a-bitch. 

But for all of Leslie’s flaws, she did manage to impart her three philosophies of life onto her daughter - the three things that Torren still lived by to this day. It was the least she could do. God knows that whore sure as fuck didn’t do anything else for her.

Mama’s Life Lessons #1 - There is no such thing as too much black eyeliner

As trivial as it sounded, it proved to be a precious lesson. Shortly after she had moved into the trailer, Leslie had forced Torren to sit on the bed and watch as she got ready for another one of her "dates". She had told the little girl that beautiful eyes were the one good gene that ran in their family. “You got to learn how to work ‘em,” Leslie exhaled a long plume of smoke at her reflection in the vanity mirror, “You listenin'? This's important. This right here," she held up the black liner pencil, “is gonna be your best friend.”

Of course, Torren had no idea what she meant. How was a pencil going to her friend? She didn’t really care so much as what her mother was saying to her at the moment, it was more of the fact that she was actually talking to her that made Torren hang on to every word. 

That’s why she picked up the black liner pencil from her mother's cluttered vanity table and leaned over to look in the mirror. She tried tracing her bottom lid, the way her mother had done, but at six it was a little easier said than done. She had just learned how to color inside the lines with a fat crayon; mastering the art of applying liner would have to wait a few more years. 

Leslie, however, was not willing to wait that long, "What the hell's amatta wit'chu, Dumbass? You doin' it all wrong," she said snatching the pencil from the girl's hand. Grabbing Torren roughly by the chin she said, "Gotta teach you every goddamn thing. Hold still." She mumbled more curses and said something about her good-for-nothing mother not teaching her brat anything useful.

By the time she had finished cursing her name, Leslie roughly turned her daughter's head toward the mirror, "Yeah you got those eyes. Now, learn to use ‘em.” Leslie dropped the pencil onto the vanity before picking up her drink and shooing Torren away. 

That was the day that Drew Watkins bought her an ice cream. It had to be the eyeliner. It was a true fact, not just another one of her mother's drunken theories. Eyeliner and her eyes...she didn’t know how she used them, but they worked.

From that day on Torren opted to never step foot outside without heavy black liner again. 

Mama’s Life Lessons #2 - As long as there are men around that want to fuck you, you will never need to work

It wasn’t like she going to go out and get a real job. She wasn’t raised with much of a work ethic. She was too young to remember if her Me-Maw worked and what she gathered from her mother was that there would always be men around to take care of her. 

Leslie told her that she didn’t need to work because working a man was a full-time job. If she were doing that right, she wouldn’t have time for a fucking 9-5. It didn’t matter if he was in a relationship, gay, or the fucking Pope. As long as he a dick and she could bend over, and her eyes were done, her rent was as good as paid. 

If she wanted more than just the basic bills paid, she would have to rethink what all she was willing to do - but just make sure she didn’t do too much otherwise she couldn’t guarantee a steady paycheck every week.

This sage advice didn’t make much sense to 8-year-old Torren, but as the years progressed she started to work it into one of her life’s mottos. She would never want for anything. She could always rely on the kindness of strangers and when that got to be too boring, she could always take it, just to spice things up a bit.  

Mama’s Life Lessons #3 - If you want something do whatever it takes to make sure you get it

As a child that grew up with the television as a babysitter, Torren Sykes knew that she was destined to love Ivar “Lothbrok” Ragnarsson since she was a little girl. Ever since that day she turned on the TV and saw this adorable blue-eyed boy drawing Mickey Mouse ears saying, “I’m Ivar Lothbrok and you’re watching the Disney Channel,” she knew that he had to be hers. 

He was co-starring on a show called The Baker Boys, about three foster kids, who had come to live with a family that owned a bakery. Ivar’s character was named Simon Baker - a mischievous kid that lived with his grandmother until she died and never felt like he fit in with this cookie-cutter family. 

His life was just like hers - minus the cookie-cutter family that loved him and all. She was actually with more of an alcoholic whore that didn’t give a shit if she lived or died, and not pulling stunts in a bakery with flour and messing up orders like him, but she still saw them as kindred spirits. 

When the show got canceled she was devastated. How dare the world try to keep her from her man? Didn’t they understand this was love? Didn’t those people at Disneyland know that he was the only person in the world that understood her?

As if on queue, she happened to find the Season 2 DVD box-set at the library one afternoon. Her mother had kicked her out of the trailer because she had a date and couldn’t have the dumbass child around fucking things up for her. Torren had nothing else to do - at 11-years-old, she had no money, and nowhere to go. At least the library was air-conditioned. 

She wanted that box-set. Slipping it into her backpack unnoticed was the easy part. Trying to get it past the alarms would be harder. She watched for a while, paying particular attention to the way the check-out system worked. 

When the librarians changed shifts, she let a smile cross her lips as she picked a few random books from the shelves. 

Her beautiful eyes went as big as saucers when the alarm buzzed, and the young male librarian looked down at her, still clutching the large reference book to her check. Carefully she had stepped across to the other side of the alarm sensor waiting to collect the books she was checking out.

“I’m sorry, you can’t check out reference books,” the young man said, blinking his hazel eyes at Torren, the corner of his lip tugging into a smile.

She let a pout fall on her lips as she lowered her large eyes down to the book in her arms, “Oh...sorry.” She handed the book back, “I didn’t realize I still had it.” And like that, she walked out of the library with her prize.

She had stolen for Ivar...now if that wasn’t love what was?

The only thing that had threatened their love through the years is when Ivar got married. It damn near broke Torren’s heart. How could he be so cruel? She didn’t give a fuck that the marriage was short-lived. She even understood why he had to do it. He had gotten that bitch pregnant, and he didn’t have much choice. But, he cut her deep. 

Didn’t he know how much she loved him? Didn’t he know that she stuck by him when he had joined 6cess and had seen him in concert 3 times? She still had the autographed photo of the two of them from the signing at Spring Hills Mall - when she was wearing that blue midriff cardigan and ripped jeans and he had his arm around her. That shirt brought out the color in his eyes. She even wore Happy, which he said was his favorite perfume. She thought it smelled like Comet, but she stole a bottle of it from Macy’s right before the photo-op to smell good for him. 

And he went and pulled this shit?

Besides, Johnny Law said that she was still too young for him and that he could get arrested for being with her. She knew that he had to pretend to have a normal life so that no one would know about their love affair. She was just understanding like that. It gave her time to grow up a little more so that when they could he be together, the law wouldn't be standing in their way. She really didn't give a fuck, but she suspected he did. Why else hadn't he come for her?

Torren didn’t even like their music. She wasn’t a boyband kind of girl, but for him, she would make the exception. She was more of the gangsta rap or heavy metal type girl. But if Ivar was serenading her, she’d listen to sappy, wrist-slitting, emo, shit rock all fucking day long, because she loved him. 

She hated that he had gotten that whore pregnant, too. She understood that he had to pretend that they had a normal marriage. She knew that when he was fucking that bitch, he was really imagining it was her. The years apart had made him a master at hiding his true feelings for her. He couldn't give anyone cause for suspicion. If he let on the truth he could risk losing everything…his house, cars, job, and his kid. That whore was trying to keep them apart. But, she was just a small obstacle that posed no real threat to Torren.

She did not doubt that she would be his daughter's new mommy. The kid would probably be sad at first that she wouldn't be with that other woman like Torren had been when her grandmother died. But, the kid would get used to it. Torren was going to be a whole hell of a lot better at being a mom than her piece of shit mother was to her. That was for damn sure. She was going to teach her stepdaughter all about eyeliner, and how to dye her hair. 

She was going to teach her what party clothes every woman should have in her wardrobe and how to get a man to do whatever she wanted by just batting her eyes at him. She would even share her secrets on what pills to mix and what dosages to give for submission, making a man catatonic, and if she was really good, she'd teach what to put in a drink to kill someone. Hell, she even planned on giving the child her most discrete drug contacts. That would of course have to wait until she was older – at least 13. She was going to be such a good mommy. 

Ivar's daughter was going to love Torren as much as Torren loved him. They were going to be the perfect family.

Torren was as hopelessly devoted to Ivar as he was to her. He had waited for her to become legal. Just months before she was old enough to legally consent to sex, and get married without parental permission, his marriage started falling apart. She knew that Ivar was trying to make a clean break from his wife, and get his daughter used to the idea of them being apart before he could come home to her. 

Torren had been thoughtful and respectful enough to give him that space to make sure everything was right before she stepped into the role of the new Mrs. Lothbrok. He had to test the waters, make sure that she still wanted him as much as he wanted her. He had to get back into the swing of things…have sex constantly to make sure he could keep up with her. She knew that "the prude" wasn't doing it nearly as often as he needed to - why else would he have an Only Fans page?

Torren was the only one that could feed his appetite, and he hers.

Now, they were both finally ready. She was mature and developed. She knew what she needed, and it was him. He had his fun before her, but now he was auditioning again and getting everything back on track for them. He had a great relationship with his daughter and his dumb ass ex-wife finally understood that their relationship was a fling that went too far.

His face told her everything that her heart already knew. He loved her. 

Why else would be looking at her like that? She could feel herself blush when he smiled on Instagram like that into them. Then he gave her that smile. That was her smile; the one that he reserved for her during their private times. Yet, there he was doing it in front of an audience of millions, and he didn't care who saw it. He had to let her know that it was time for her to come home. It was like a sleeper cell being awakened.

She didn't have a choice. She did what any other woman in her position would do. She packed a bag, threw it in the car she stole a few days before and drove. Armed with her trifecta of knowledge and determination, she prepared to face the obstacles that were bound to get in her way. There was nothing that was going to stop her from getting her man.

Nothing.

Part ii || Part iv

Tags: @ideagarden-blog1​  @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @didiintheblog​ @conaionaru​ @peachyboneless​ @flowers-in-your-hayr @heavenly1927​ @zuxiezendler @waiting4inspiration​ @saldelys @didiintheblog​  @revolution-starter​

[platypanthewriter]

Dildos and Hayfever

Harringrove April prompt day 13, Hayfever.  Detective Billy Hargrove's had a rough time lately, and Captain Hopper assigns him a partner who'll either make everything worse...or everything better.

“All you need to know is he’s the commissioner’s son,” rang in Billy’s head as he stalked down the hall.  Hopper had followed up with “I told him you were fresh out of rehab,” and  “I’m sure you can remember enough of the ropes to show him, right, it’s not like he’s gonna be doing the work anyway,” and Billy gritted his teeth, punching the elevator buttons with a vengeance.  

The light flickered, worsening the headache that always came on in the spring when all the flowers bloomed, and every tree on every sidewalk in the city shot its rocks off in midair—or when he had to walk into the office of the captain.  This morning, to his utmost joy, he’d had both, and he took the opportunity of alone time in the elevator to blow his nose, hard.  

Captain Hopper meant well, probably, Billy told himself, and set his shoulders.

 He found the right building because of the smoke pouring out half the upper windows, the six fire trucks, and the EMTs coming out with the victims—a nice brownstone, before.  Billy looked—somewhat hopelessly—for an elevator, sighed, and hauled himself up seven flights of stairs, sneezing.

Police Commissioner Harrington’s son was interviewing witnesses.  Billy’d seen him before—always with his own office, always flirting with whoever worked reception, always with his uniform tailored.  How he’d brokered a transfer to Major Crimes was a riddle Billy couldn’t wait to ask about—though if he was absolute dead weight, Hopper would probably come up with another solution to Billy’s bullshit, and kick Harrington back onto a desk somewhere.

Harrington was on an upper landing, listening to a black lady and her husband.  They looked in their...seventies, maybe, well-off, both crying, and clutching tabby cats.  “I can speak to you later,” he said gently, “—if you’d like to—” but the woman shook her head, grabbing his hand.

“He’s a good boy,” she said, sniffling, “—and you better catch whoever did this.  Anyone who could do this.  There aren’t many young men ready to haul an old lady’s groceries up nine flights, or open her pickle jars, either.  Anything we can tell you—”

The man nodded too, holding her hand, and Harrington crouched, jotting down their story, while Billy showed his ID and ducked under the crime scene tape into the half-gutted apartment.  He listened as he pulled the whole crime scene kit on, his gloves, mask, booties, and haircap and all.  

It smelled horrible, still thick with greasy smoke that clung to the inside of Billy’s sinuses, and he was grateful for the mask.

The parts of the apartment that hadn’t caught fire were nice—nicer than he could afford, certainly—with art everywhere, photos, paintings...and a floor-to-ceiling, sculptural mobile he couldn’t help thinking looked like a cock.  He surveyed the scene—a coffee table with wine glasses for two, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and chocolate dick-shaped marshmallows, in front of a couch with penis-shaped pillows.  

There was a spray-painted  ‘GOD HATES F—’ on the wall, the last word obscured by char from the fire, but Billy honestly wasn’t sure it was new, given the decor in general, and the adjacent broken glass glued to the wall in a penis shape.  He leaned in and sniffed it, and he could still smell the fumes of the paint.  He snapped a few pictures of it, for later.

When he backed up to get a wider view, his shoulder thumped into someone.  “Sorry,” said Harrington, and then, showing why he’d made detective, “...that huge thing on the ceiling kinda looks like a dick.”

“A lot of things in this apartment do, you’ll find,” said Wheeler, the lead CSI, raising her eyebrows at Billy with a smirk.  He tensed, a little, but she just started giving him the report, and he nearly shut his eyes in relief.  “Including the weapon.”  She waved at a bagged, cement dong sculpture that looked like art deco.  “It probably didn’t take any prints,” she said, sighing, “—with a gritty surface like that.”  Harrington grimaced, wincing, and touching his head.  

“The victim will probably regain consciousness,” Wheeler went on.  “He left the windows open all along that side of the apartment,” she pointed, “—and with as windy as it’s been today, it sucked the fire away from him, so he didn’t get much smoke inhalation.”

“What even...robbery?” Harrington asked, then, “Domestic violence?” and she grimaced, clicking around on her tablet.  

“From his phone, it looks like a first date.  We’re going over it with a fine-tooth comb, though,” she said, frowning at Billy, then down at her tablet.  “Since the assailant obviously wanted the crime scene burned to the ground.”

Billy nodded, his eyes watering either from the fumes, or the pollen count.  He sneezed inside his mask, and grimaced as it stuck to his face wetly.  “Who is the victim?” he asked, sighing, and wrinkling his nose.

“Ishaq Hill,” Harrington put in, glancing between them.  “Profession, camboy.  Posted photos and videos of himself, pinup style mostly, artsy, sometimes naked.  Neighbors don’t think it was stressing him out any, though, he just talked about being single a lot.”

Wheeler raised her eyebrows.  “Because of the head trauma, they’re keeping him in a medically induced coma, so we can’t ask him what happened at least until tomorrow.  But look,” she said, leaning between them to flick between photos on her tablet.  She zoomed in on the victim’s crotch, and Billy automatically shot an alarmed glance at the nearest human, who happened to be Harrington, his brown eyes frowning back.  

“Was there evidence of sexual assault?” he asked, and Wheeler shook her head, waving him closer.  

“No, no, look,” she said, zooming it in further.  “It’s hard to see, but look, the harness.  The color, there, against his white vinyl?  It’s a leather harness, dyed rainbow tie-dye.   The straps are cut—and it’s empty.”

Billy stared at her.  “...you’re saying the victim is trans,” he said slowly, making sure he had it right, “—and the attempted murderer stole his dick.”

“What the hell,” Harrington breathed.

She raised her eyebrows, waving her arms in a dramatic shrug.  “I have no idea!  But go look, there’s another one in the bedroom—” she pointed, and then bent back to sweeping something into a tiny ziploc bag.

In the bedroom, Harrington pointed at the waist-to-hip sculpture of a man, used to demo, apparently, turquoise leather straps similar to the rainbow straps they could make out in the photos.  This one had a securely-fitted glass dildo in it with a whole blown-glass coral reef inside.  Harrington bent close to stare at the cock made of tiny jellyfish and anemones, while Billy took in the display on the dresser—a whole array of fancy condoms and butt plugs, with decorated stands, and nameplates.  

“He must have used this stuff in videos,” Harrington said.  “Like, you know, unboxing.”

“I think he probably filmed less taking them out and more more putting them in things,” Billy muttered, as Harrington snickered, and then waved at the small, rhinestoned pastry stand labeled ‘God <3 Fags’.  It was empty.  

He looked over to see whether Harrington had noticed the empty stand, but he was fiddling with his phone.  “...doesn’t look like he had any nasty public messages, or anything,” he said, frowning.  “I’ll look through his account when we get back—”

“I’m gonna see where he gets all these dildos,” Billy said, frowning at one with what looked like birthday candles, and ‘Ishaq 23rd’ floating inside.  He pulled a drawer open, and found a few boxed vibrators, and a lot of lingerie.  “Some of this stuff has to be custom.  Maybe they’ll know which one got stolen.”  

“Oh,” Harrington said, brightening.  “Good idea!”

“You can call around,” Billy told him, and Harrington shot him a sideways glance that made Billy wonder if he was gonna be a shithead about his dad being the commissioner, but he just nodded.  He dropped into a chair at a desk out on the floor like any other cop when they got back to the precinct, searching up both Ishaq Hill’s social media, and local sex shops.

Billy went to find coffee and gossip, avoiding the old guard—his father’s friends.

“Steve’s all right,” said Holland, another CSI he thought he could trust, since she was friends with Wheeler.  She considered, crossing her arms.  “Everybody figures he’ll be bad at the job, so he gets all the desk work, and he’s kind of obnoxious, but he’ll get down and dust vac a bloody trunk, if you need him to.”  

Hagen in Vice sneered, and yelled for everyone to come say hey to Neil Hargrove’s son, back from rehab, and Billy turned on his heel and stalked back to his own department, his heart racing.

 He returned to hand Harrington a vending machine coffee, and Harrington looked grateful, toasting him in the air as he talked on the phone.  “No, ma’am, I’m not trying to make any trouble.  No, it’s nothing like—” he groaned, leaning his head against the handset, then sipped his coffee, and hit redial.  “Hey, I’m looking to buy custom, handmade dildos.  I’ve got a—” he grimaced at the wall, screwed up his face in thought, and then shrugged, glancing at Billy, and grimacing as he sighed.  “I’ve got a highschool ring I wanna put in a dildo.  Uh, go 2011!”  He listened.  “Oh, you do?  Oh, thanks so much,” he said, writing down a phone number, and mumbling more thank yous.  

“What’d you get?” Billy asked.

“Just another store to try,” Steve muttered. He kicked the desk, and rolled a couple feet closer to hand the post-it note to Billy.  “They don’t want to talk to me until I want a weird sex toy,” he said, flushing a little, but laughing.  “I’ve looked for one with plastic dinosaurs in it, a butt plug with my old glass eye—”

Billy snorted his coffee, coughing as Harrington scrambled up to pat his back.  

“I think one time I maybe said moose antlers,” he muttered, counting off on his fingers.  “That one must think I’m pretty weird.”

“Not the eyeball one though,” Billy choked out, trying not to die.  “The fake eye ass plug store thinks that’s normal as shit.”

“I just mean,” Steve said, blushing, and waving his arms in a vaguely antler-like shape from his head, “—moose antlers wouldn’t probably fit in my ass, you know?”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Billy gasped, wiping his eyes, leaned in to where Harrington had brought up Hill’s social media, and scrolled.  

“What’s all this shit about the Westboro Baptist Church?” he asked.

Steve was mumbling and scribbling, and then he hung up.  “Oh,” he nodded.  “They’ve been spamming ‘God Hates Fags’ on all his sites.  He’s been doing a big photoshoot with teasers, kind of...at them?  He kept tagging them.  It’s gone viral.”  He held out his phone, and Billy was treated to a lock screen of their assault victim on his knees, arms out like he was singing, his glittery dick spurting a cartoon rainbow.

“...sorry, that’s not very professional,” Harrington said, grimacing, and yanking it back.  “I’ll change it.”

“Did you see this at the crime scene?” Billy asked him, yanking his phone out and showing Harrington the spray-painted ‘GOD HATES F—’ he’d found on the wall.

“Holy shit,” Harrington said.  “Eugh, imagine them knowing where you live.  Shit, I didn’t even notice that.”  He sighed, and Billy kicked his chair, lightly.

“Kinda busy walls in that place,” he pointed out, and Steve shot him a smirk.

 “Hargrove!” a familiar voice yelled, and Detective Holloway ran up and gave Billy a hug.  “You look so good!” she told him, and then nodded at Harrington, and smiled back at Billy.  “We found the guy the date was with on Grindr.  They’re bringing him in.”

It was nice to have somebody happy to see him, even if her face made him kinda uncomfortable, knowing she’d been the one to catch him drinking in the supply room after all the—after.  

“Make him wait,” Billy said, considering.  “I wanna go through the conversations on Grindr.  He can work up some nerves first.”

“He’s ex-military,” she said, grimacing.  “His CV says his last job was as a ‘fully armed and trained combat specialist’ who did security for diamond mines in war-torn areas.  I don’t think you’re gonna make him nervous.”

“Eugh,” Harrington said, making a face.  “I can see why that date didn’t go well.  He probably dresses like a supervillain.”

Holloway’s look at him was a little withering, and he shut up, turning back to sit at his computer.  “Lemme know if you need anything,” she told Billy, frowning into his face, and he pushed her shoulder away, quirking his mouth.  

“...I’m okay,” he told her, and she didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t hug him again, at least.  

 “How are you doing?” Harrington asked, after she’d left, and after swallowing half the cup of coffee in one chipmunk-cheeked slurp.  He wiped his mouth, blinking wide brown eyes up at Billy, and Billy groaned.  

“Look, about what the captain—”

“I know the story,” Harrington said, tossing back the rest of the coffee like a bathtub drain.  Billy reminded himself to make Harrington pee before they got in a car together, like a little kid on a road trip.  “My dad’s the commissioner, I know the whole...thing,” he said, grimacing.  “You shoulda got a commendation.”

“...he was a dirty cop,” Billy grunted, hunching his shoulders.  “It’s our job to make sure—”

“Yeah, it is,” Steve agreed, nodding at his screen, and Billy relaxed a little, out from under the weight of sympathetic eyes.  “It’s our job, but not everybody does it.  And you knew what it was gonna be like.”

“I did,” Billy said, grimacing.  “I thought I did.”

“Hey, they let me into Major Crimes for this,” Harrington laughed, unhappily.  “Even if my police work isn’t up to scratch, they won’t try anything on you if I’m standing there.”

Billy watched him, and felt a kind of brotherhood, suddenly, looking at Harrington’s tight smile, and tense shoulders.  “...police work’s been okay so far,” he said, and Harrington shot him a startled grin.  “I’m gonna go...call the hospital,” Billy told him, suddenly needing to be somewhere else.  “Maybe swing by and take a look at our victim.”

“Oh,” Harrington said, nodding.  

Billy had a few more pictures of the harness sent over—Wheeler was right about what it was, at least—and then they brought the ex-military Grindr date in.  He didn’t look that intimidating, actually—his huge biceps were flexed as he held kleenex over his nose, sneezing so hard every few feet he staggered, and he was wearing a t-shirt with a badly-designed logo for a Queer Youth Charity Marathon.

“Hey,” Harrington whispered, touching his shoulder just before they went inside.  “Uh, there’s a lot of hate on there from the Westboro Baptist Church.  Like, they were getting specific, said someone doxxed him.”

In the interrogation room, their person of interest sneezed so hard snot dangled from both his nostrils, like a drooly dog.  Steve snorted a laugh, and walked off to lean against another detective’s desk—Carol’s, Billy thought.  

“Can I bribe you for some of that kleenex?” he asked, leaning in like he was flirting on a movie poster, and Carol laughed out loud, and hit him with it.  

“Take it and git,” she said, and Steve ran back, grinning.  

“Here we go,” he said, handing one to Billy.  “One for you, the rest of the box for him.”

 “I didn’t even stay for the whole date,” said Braxton Haglund, 34 years old, dark haired and caucasian, with a tattoo Billy could see peeking from under the sleeve of his t-shirt.  Haglund blew his nose, again, and the kleenex was so wet it made a noise as he dropped it against the table.  “He’d left the windows all open.  I walked up so many stairs—” he sneezed, miserably, several times, wadding handfuls of kleenex under his nose, and wiping his eyes.  

“God,” he mumbled.  “If I didn’t have hayfever, I’d probably still have been there when...whatever happened,” he said, between sneezes.  His wide shoulders were hunched despairingly, and even Harrington had a sympathetic grimace.  “Dunno if I’d have been much use, though.”  

“Did you see anyone as you left?” Billy asked, and Haglund thought, taking deep breaths between blowing his nose.  

“...nobody that stood out,” he said.  “Some neighbors, maybe.  Think I walked into somebody, once, my eyes were watering.”

 He hadn’t seen anybody going in, either, so after they let him leave, Billy spent a while scrolling through all the victim’s media accounts.  Harrington stayed doggedly on tracking down the dildo maker—Billy nearly felt sorry for him, except it was giving Billy such a good read on what to expect—and he was coming up with a continuous stream of weird sex toys to be in search of.  “I’m an author,” he told one.  “I want a dildo containing the pen I wrote my first book with.”  He jotted down another number, called it, sighed, and tried again.  “Uh, I want a dildo full of baby teeth—” he started, and then stopped, frowning at the phone.  “They hung up,” he said, sounding betrayed.  

“Wouldn’t you?!” Billy asked, smiling despite having to see comment after comment by the Westboro Baptist Church.  He found further reasons to hate them, but nothing specifically actionable, so he finally stretched and grabbed his jacket.  “I’m done for the day,” he called over the other empty desks.  

“Go ahead,” Harrington said, frowning at the screen.  “I won’t stay much longer.  How the hell hard can this be, really?”

 He was there before Billy the next morning, his jaw set, with dark shadows under his eyes.  Billy detoured to the coffee machine first, and plonked it down in front of him, and Harington rewarded him with widening eyes, and then a bewildered stare.  

“...thanks,” he said softly, then smirked up through a yawn.  “Heard back from the arson investigators, and guess what?  The fire looks accidental.”  He bounced a little in his chair, and Billy wondered whether he was really into murder mysteries, or whether he was just trying to stay awake.  “There was a pan on the stove, some kind of chocolate fondue, they think.  Just caught fire, and with Ishaq unconscious, nobody turned off the stove.”

“...lucky bastard,” Billy said, grimacing, and Harrington raised his eyebrows.  

“You think?  Oh, also, guess what—I found her.  Our dildo artist.  She’s not all that local, but she did send me a few pictures of the dildos she’s made for our guy.”  

“Had to track her down eventually,” Billy said, sipping his coffee, and then caught the way Harrington just bit his lips, his jaw tensing.

“Good job,” Billy told him, feeling a little...stupid, like he was praising a dog, but Harrington brightened, smirking up at him again.

Billy studied the printouts, as Harrington spun around on his chair, guzzling down coffee, and explaining his triumph.  “She says that photoshoot that had the Westboro Baptist Church up in arms?  Upcoming?  Get this,” he said, getting up to lean over Billy’s shoulder.  “—they’re pissed because our boy was staying at a hotel once with the new leader, Steven Drain.  He pretended to be maid service, snuck in, and took the guy’s wedding ring, and made it into a dildo.  He describes it as ‘surrounded by rainbow unicorn confetti and delicious queer flesh’.  Our victim stole his wedding ring,” Harrington cackled, beaming.  “I’m subscribing to his...everything.”

“Lemme see if any of these comments can be traced to Steven Drain,” Billy said, heading off to ask someone to do computer magic.  Steve hopped up and came with him, which was kinda weird, but it was nice to walk down a hall without people shoulder-slamming him like he wasn’t there.

  “Hate that he has my name,” Steve muttered, as they walked back.  “Drain’s got restraining orders for beating up and threatening two young teenagers his daughter talked to, it’s on the public record.  We could see what kinda injuries they had,” Harrington said.  “...imagine taking down the whole Westboro church.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Billy laughed, dropping into his own chair as Harrington got more coffee, then called around and discovered the assailants had both been right-handed.

“Get this,” he said excitedly, “—Steven Drain is in town.  Gay soldier’s wedding, they’re planning to picket it and scream at his widower, you know, their whole thing, but he flew in the night before the assault.”

“We should talk to him,” Billy said, most of his brain on the photos of dildos and butt plugs.  

“Can’t we just drop a piano on him?” Steve muttered, and Billy snorted, flicking back through, and trying to figure out what was bugging him about the dildos.  There were lots of them, more than Billy’d seen in the victim’s room, and Billy stopped, squinting at his phone screen at one that looked like it was full of tiny antique coins.  “...wait,” he muttered.  “Where did you say she lived?  Dildo lady?”

“Upstate,” Harrington told him, blinking up at him, as he held his pen on the list of neighbors he’d called to ask whether they’d seen anyone that looked like Steven Drain.  

“I need to talk to Dildo Lady,” Billy announced, and Harrington blinked at him, then glanced at his screen and back to Billy, waiting.  “...we should go talk to her,” Billy amended, and Harrington grinned, grabbing his jacket.

“Should we talk to Drain first?” he asked, “—since he’s local?”

“Let’s wait and see the CSI reports,” Billy told him.  “We’ll be on a lot firmer ground if he clipped his nails after he clocked Ishaq Hill upside the head.”

“Hard to believe somebody that loud went down quietly,” Harrington said, nodding.  “There’ll probably be hair or something.  Even if he doesn’t wake up and tell us.  I called this morning—he’s out of danger, it sounds like,” he said, grimacing, and Billy nodded.

“Nice if we can tell him it’s all handled, though,” he said, and Harrington laughed.

“That’s a definite yep.”

 Billy led the way to the level where his car was parked, and then stopped. 

His car had dead rats on it.  He walked closer, and there was a scratch where somebody’d jimmied his window, and tossed more rats inside, and suddenly he longed for a drink.

“Shit,” Harrington said, putting an arm around his shoulders to steer him away, and whipping out his phone.  “Yeah, hey—”

“Stop,” Billy hissed, grabbing for it.  “You’ll just make it worse, don’t tell your fucking dad—”

“Wheeler,” Harrington said.  “Mmm, yeah, you know you said you had some CSI training to do?  I’ve got a, uh, little crime scene in the parking garage.  Could you get your most annoying rookie to come down and—yeah.  Yeah, blue Camaro, license plate PCE 235.”  He listened for a long second, and then thanked her again, tucking his phone away.  

“...shit,” Billy sighed, as Harrington manhandled him to a different car.  

To his relief, Harrington didn’t say anything sympathetic.  After a few minutes, driving at a snail’s pace through downtown traffic, he took a breath, and Billy’s hands twitched.  “Huh,” Harrington said, glancing down, and then biting his lips in a cartoonishly intent face.

“...jesus, just say whatever it is,” Billy told him, snorting a laugh, and sipping his coffee.

“Sorry your dad is a bastard asshole shithead,” Harrington said, wincing, and Billy choked again, coughing and spluttering coffee down his shirt, but he hadn’t been able to laugh about it before, ever, and it felt good, even if he tried to breathe coffee, and couldn’t stop coughing.  

When he could finally draw breath, he sighed contentedly, leaning his head against the window.  “...he is, isn’t he,” he said.

“He is, and so are most of the officers he came up from the academy with,” Steve said, clenching his hands on the steering wheel.  “My dad too.  He didn’t—ugh.”

“What?” Billy asked, curious, suddenly, about Steve Harrington, instead of just the commissioner’s son.  

“He didn’t want me to transfer,” Harrington muttered.  “He said Major Crimes doesn’t need the dead weight.  Hopper had to kinda go out on a limb.  I fuck up and I’m kicked all the way down to traffic, I think.”

The thought that the commissioner had stepped in to help Billy, Detective Neil Hargrove’s son, had gotten Billy through some long nights in rehab.  He drew a long breath, realizing he was even more alone than he’d thought.  “...shit,” he said softly.  His eyes stung.

“It’s fine,” Harrington said.  “Hopper’s got your back.  There are enough of us.  I’ll lean on Hagen some, I think I can talk him around.  It’s good you turned your dad in.  You did a good thing, and everybody shit on you for it,” he growled, glancing over.  “I’ve got your back.  Jesus, man, don’t cry.”

“It’s the pollen,” Billy said thickly.

“Yeah, sure.”

“I have hayfever,” Billy hissed at him, rubbing his face.

 The Dildo Lady looked about sixty, Pakistani probably, and wore a hijab.  Her name was Faiza Khalol, and she was delighted to tell them about her work.  

“Do you have any better pictures of these?” Billy asked her, showing her the one with the coins in it.  “Or could you describe them?”

She could, as it turned out—and even better, when she’d asked about them, Hill had given her one, and she handed Billy a tiny silver coin which, after some googling, he thought might be an Athenian drachma.

“Oh,” she whispered, her brows drawing together.  “Um, is it valuable?”

“I have no idea,” Billy told her, but flicked to another picture.  “But these are, I think.”  The clear butt-plug was full of greyish crystals, with a huge one where it would show.  

“I didn’t see these in his dresser,” Harrington said, leaning in warmly against him, and Billy annoyed himself by shivering.

“No.  These are uncut diamonds, I think.”  Faiza and Harrington gasped satisfyingly, and Billy grinned.  “Ishaq Hill stole more than a wedding ring, I think.  We’ve had the wrong motive.”

“Braxton Haglund guarded diamond mines,” Harrington breathed.  “He’d probably recognize them.  Did Ishaq post pictures with these?”

“He always put up pictures of my latest work,” Faiza said, covering her mouth in horror.  “Do you think…”

“I think we better talk to Braxton Haglund again,” Billy said, reveling in Harrington’s impressed grin. 

 “You’ve got duthing on be,” Haglund gasped, blowing his nose miserably.  “You gan’t brove I saw ‘s pictures.  You gan’t brove anything.”

Billy tried to parse that for a long second, and then, for Harrington, who looked bewildered, said, “Oh, that’s not all we have.  Have you wondered,” he said, turning to his partner, who grinned back, “—how anyone could come in to Ishaq Hill’s apartment, clonk him from behind with a dick sculpture, then search his apartment, and not notice he’d left chocolate heating on the stove?  Chocolate burns fast,” he said, raising his eyebrows at Haglund.  “How did you not notice the smell?”

“His hayfever,” Harrington breathed, his eyes widening at Billy as his cheeks flushed, and Haglund slammed his fist on the table, opened his mouth to yell, and then stopped to blow his nose, and sneeze.

“Also while you were waiting,” Billy told Haglind with satisfaction, “—we searched your apartment.  The warrant judge was convinced by our diamond-and-hayfever argument, and guess what we found?” 

Haglund’s eyes widened in horror, and his back thudded against his chair as Billy shot Harrington a grin, and Harrington smirked back.  “Good job framing a hate group for the crime,” Billy said, his grin widening, “—but why were Ishaq Hill’s dildos on the table in your front room?”

The other Harringrove April prompts I’ve done

[what-kinda-fuckery]

Hey so, I was one of the star struck falsettos stans that spent the forty dollars for the webinar, and I took notes (like a weirdo). So I decided I would share my funny moments and updates from the cast here!

- Host: Everyone should be keeping their audio off.

Christian: Oh alright!

Host: nO Christian not you

- Christians in Manhattan and his hair is back and he’s wearing a Superman t-shirt.

- Brandon is with his parents in NJ

- Stephanie and Brandon still love each other

- Brandon: Meat should be cooked just right

- Betsy: Stephanie are you in maple wood?

Stephanie: Well thank you for telling everyone where I am (she’s in NJ)

- Stephanie: Are you fucking kidding meee!!!

- Tracie is in LA, she looks like she’s in Costa Rica and I love her dog.

- Anthony’s VOICE IS LOW EVERYONES FREAKING OUT

they’re all talking about Anthony’s clear skin

- Andy Randy is in LA with a fresh haircut his boyfriend did it and he’s watching too much TV

Andrew: I’m watching this is America

Stephanie: SO GOOD

Andrew: SO GOOD

- Everyone’s having hard days

- Christian is acting out tracies dog’s pathetic bark and everyone’s like WHAT are you doing bc it looks like he’s about to throw up

- BETSY IS A WEEK AWAY FROM HAVINGA WHOLE CHILD

Betsy: What else do you do during a pandemic? Have a baby!

Andrew: Can I toss out another baby name? Celery.

Literally everyone: Goodnight Andrew goodbye!

- Christian is living with a girl (?) and playing board games instead of watching television

HE COOKS NOW EVERYONES PROUD OF HIM

Christian: yesterday I made pork filet en croute

Stephanie: I MADE PORK WITH SAGE AND APPLES ON WEDNESDAY

Stephanie: In mean girls they wear pink on wednesdays. In falsettos they make pork.

- I can’t get over Anthony’s voice

Again everyone returning to his literally perfect skin

- Stephanie: When watching four jews in a room in the beginning who’s in China?? I know the answer I just want to hear someone say it.

Andrew, with a thick accent: It was Bryna, in China, with a torn miniscus

- Christian: Did anything interesting make it on to the telecast between me and you? Andrew? Actually I dont remember I need to do my research.

Andrew: There’s been some strange comments about Christian and I- (AT THIS POINT IM WHEEZING)

HE MENTIONED THE TONY BONY

HE SAID IT WASNT A THING

HE DIDNT HAVE ONE

Andrew: No that’s not a thing that happened

Brandon: Andrew i want you to know that it’s okay if it was. It’s a safe space just the seven of us. (Lol)

- Bill Finn would take two steps into the room: “WROONG”

Stephanie: he wanted me to sing the end of I’m breaking down up the octave and I said #notmytrina

Brandon: #NOTMYTRINA

- Tracie what did you do during act 1

Tracie: Betsy and I sat in that dressing room for like an hour and a half

Andrew: You SANG the WHOLE SHOW TRACIE

- Betsy watched parts of the first act to feel like she was there

- Betsy sprained both her ankles at one point during the run and was a trooper anyways

Brandon reenacting Betsy limping during look look look look

Everyone dies laughing

Christians LAUGH makes me SO HAPPY

- Betsys screen is frozen like this: 🤨

Andrew: What if she went into labor??? (This is a common thread throughout the zoom)

- Anthony: I’m getting a lot of glitching so Stephanie is just like “HUH UH UH UH”

- Betsy comes back and everyone is like

YOU GUYS ITS COMING!!!

- They bought Andrew an ice cream for his birthday from the vending machine at rehearsal

- Andrew: The Hawaii crop top

Betsy: I would give anything to have that

- Tracie: it was very hard. Very precise bringing the blocks together

Brandon: Trying to be like oh my god we’re going to a funeral

Andrew: MY DEATH IT WAS MY DEATH

- fan question: What did the blocks weigh?

Stephanie: They were like thick yoga blocks. Not heavy but awkward shaped

Andrew: Significantly heavier when Anthony sat on them

Anthony: I just realized how much I got thrown around

Stephanie: Anthony were you proud of yourself? #proudofyou

Anthony: The one moment I was cringing was father and son

Christian: HERE WE GO *SLAPS TABLE*

Betsy: Anthony’s like BLAH BLAH BLAH blah my line BLAH BLAH BLAH my line BLAH BLAH

Christian: I LEAVE THE PAUSE IF YOU CANT GET IN THATS ON YOU

Anthony: I was blinking in that number like constantly

Christian: THE WHOLE THING LIKE A SALAMANDER

Oh Anthony.

- Andrew: I HAVE A STORY ABOUT CHRISTIAN BORLE. Tech for what more can i say. He was laying on me. We were shirtless in underpants under the blankets.

Christian: SLOWER

Andrew: he leaned over; He sniffed his armpit and said “I hope you like France”

EVERYONE DIES LAUGHING INCLUDING ME

Christian: i haven’t worn deodorant in 10 years true story

- Christian: i seem to remember holding our pillows and blankets pretending like we were partying on fyre island and Andrew said:

Andrew: WHATS YOUR NAME???

Christian: No no it was something like:

WHAT HOUSE ARE YOU STAYING IN??

Andrew: WHAT HOUSE ARE YOU STAYING IN???

Betsy: James lupine I feel like we’re ruining this show

- Andrew: The shenanigans were real but so was the sadness

Stephanie: We’re real and we’re funny what you gonna do

- Andrew talking about how hard the show was to do: Finding some liberty, It’s a hard world to live in all the time. It was a hard time especially for Christian. I would sometimes go home and cry for no reason

Brandon: Building up emotion with nowhere to put it

Betsy: then Lesbians come in and provide all the levity

Stephanie: Although Dr. Charlotte brings in horrible news

Tracie: Everything’s beautiful at what more can i say and I’m like not so fast

- Tracie always had a funny thing to say

- Who broke character the most on stage?

Anthony Stephanie and Christian

Anthony: it was when I said “I don’t want a bar mitzvah” and I spit in your face a lot and you went like *puts arms up* and someone at stage door was like very condescending like it’s not professional

Christian: Oh my bad we’re people sorry

- Stephanie wrote a line in the show “YOU HAVE PAINTINGS OF DICKS”

- James wanted her to cut off her finger during I’m breaking down

And turn around with a bandaged bloody finger

- Betsy’s nose bleeding during something bad is happening

And Tracie was like something BAD IS HAPPENING

Tracie: Christians throwing up right now

Betsy: Bloody Kleenex up the nose THE SHOW MUST GO ON

- Fan question: Stephanie how do you belt with a banana in your mouth

Christian: Practice practice practice

Stephanie: just shove it in your cheek. But Really that wasn’t supposed to happen

Anthony’s nickname in the rehearsal room was little bananas because he had to gather up all the pieces of stuff after Stephanie shoved the table over with her rear. Sometimes he didn’t have enough time to put it somewhere so he would just put the pieces of banana in his mouth and that’s where it came from

That’s why

- Andrew: Stephanie your glasses are very chic

Stephanie: Oh my gosh thank you *shocked*

- Betsy: Bill was like I’d rather DIE than change lyrics for the pbs special

FLaT aS a LaKe

- Cue everyone accidentally talking over each other and saying what at each other for 30 seconds

Christian: what? what? what?

Who is it?

What’s going on?

- If you could play anyone else in the show who would it be

Anthony said Mendel

Tracie said Mendel

Brandon said Trina

Andrew said marvin

Betsy said whizzer

Stephanie said Mendel

And I honestly couldn’t hear if Christian said anything whoops

- Brandon: If someone could at some point explain to me the Mendel eats dirt meme? People have been Asking me if Mendel eats dirt? I don’t think it’s about Trina Trina is not the dirt. I was overwhelmed. Can someone in the Q&A explain this? *A few seconds later* oh It was from a meme generator?

Christian: Greaat.

Brandon: It’s a fan fiction about Mendel eating dirt and getting aroused by it

Everyone: WHAT

- They still get fan art

Someone recreated the whole soundtrack 8bit and also with KAZOOS

- Brandon: CONGRATS CHRISTIAN ON LULOS WIN FOR LITTLE SHOP. If you haven’t seen Christian in little shop it’s revelatory I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass I have not laughed that hard in a while at the theatre

- Christian talking about little shop

Christian has a 12 inch Batman toy in his dressing room and he misses it

- Ticket prices were getting out of control before corona everyones hoping this will make a difference

Brandon and everyone think it should get more accessible

- Brandon: Hear hear I need a refill

- Stephanie: Your hair looks incredible Brandon (it did)

Christian: She’s been waiting to talk about it for 53 minutes

- Andrew: Well Betsy what I’m wondering is have you crowned yet??

Proceed everyone dying

Brandon, taking a picture of the screen: This moment will go down in history as When Betsy was asked if she was crowning

- Everyone mimicking zoom freezing by starting a sentence and freezing halfway through

- Christian: What new Steven sondheim musical are you excited about Anthony *devilish grin*

Anthony having no idea what Christian is talking about

Christian: Come on Anthony you know the answer. Ugh. The minds of the young. You’re smoking pot now aren’t you??

Christian: We have a lot of fun

- Andrew: I’m trying to get people to pay attention to me

- Christians pretending to be frozen

Cue a lot of yelling: Stephanie BRANDON STEPHANIE

NO CHRISTIAN

Everyone accusing each other of being frozen

NO YOURE FROZEN

- Andrew: Let’s all act like we’re frozen

Steph: I see Andrew acting like hes frozen

Betsy: Watching you do that is killing me

- Listening to the cast recording for the first time together

Stephanie: Why was I the a-hole that couldn’t be there???

Christian: That’s a question only you can answer

- Betsys husband came in everyones like BETSY LOOK OUT

Christian: that scared the shit out of me

- What is marvins last name and what was his line of work

Christian: we definitely said it at some point right? (They didnt) but he was in advertising. What was the last name? Gardens? O’Malley?

- Andrew: Betsys gone oh no

Betsy: I’m right here!!!

Andrew: She’s giving birth (again)

Stephanie: Betsy Wolfe is a ceiling

- Brandon: Welcome back Anthony. You’re here now.

Anthony singing merrily we roll along over Betsy trying to tell a story

Christian: STOP SMOKING POT IN YOUR BEDROOM ANTHONY

- Betsy: Steve (Steven Sondheim) comes to the door I call him steve

Into the woods is the reason Betsy is in theatre

- Betsy: Andrew was nervous singing at the tonys for Book of Mormon and he got dry mouth he sang like 😬I BELIEVE and he licked his lips so much during the song.

Brandon: Did you have a boner then too?

Andrew: GUYS DONT BE DICKS

Stephanie: It’ll be like dry mouth, boner

Andrew: BETSY YOU FUCKIN BITCH ITS ACTUALLY NOT THAT BAD

Stephanie: Bets maybe we should wrap it up

- Brandon sings MARRIAGE PROPOSAL

EVERYONE TELLING HIM TO STOP SINGING I took a video it was beautiful might post that later

- “Tracie Thomas from Lent!”

Tracie having stage fright

Tracie: Billy porter said “oh child we all forget the words” and walked away

- Anthony said WHO SHAT THE BED in four jews once

Anthony: That’s my contribution. Steph got her line, I got who shat the bed

- Steph: We lost andrew oh no

Christian: Um, we lost andrew ten minutes ago. Yeah when Brandon started singing

- Then Betsy sang a song by Bill Finn beautiful

- Steph: Wear your masks and eat pork on wednesdays

That was it!! I hope you enjoyed and people who were there if I got anything wrong that’s my human error it was hard to note everything I wanted to. Smooches! Byee

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, part 3 [read on ao3] [co-written with @darkmagyk]

Several more weeks and hookups later, Annabeth thinks she should probably come clean. Some people might bury it deep, and for sure, Annabeth’s considered it, but, well. It is kind of embarrassing that she didn’t know Percy’s name at first. Stuff like that doesn’t usually bother her--she’s had nameless one night stands in the past, and despite Thalia’s ribbing, she knows that Thalia doesn’t really care either. It’s just that, you know, he’s Thalia’s family, and they’ve seen each other a few more times, and they are planning to continue to see each other a few more times in the future. Or more than a few times. 

Anyway, she kind of feels like she owes it to him. Like he deserves this small nugget of truth, payment for all the times he’s fucked her blind. It’s nagging at her, and she hates feeling like she owes anyone anything. 

Piper certainly seemed to think so, when Annabeth had told her over their monthly brunch date.

“It’s just common courtesy at this point,” she said. “Like, what if you guys end up married and then sell your story to Hollywood, they cast my dad as the male lead, and it comes out in interviews that you didn’t know his name for like a month? He’s gonna get the wrong idea.”

Annabeth wasn’t sure which part was more ridiculous: the movie, Piper’s dad being involved, or them being married.

Anyway, sharing some of her avocado fries, Piper had reminded her that being mean wasn't very punk rock, shutting her up effectively.

She’s out on site in the Lower East Side, taking measurements for plots of land, writing down sun angles and measuring the wind velocity between the brick buildings, when she gets a text from him. 

I’m on a break and I’m starving 😩 Want to grab something to eat?

It’s 2pm on a Thursday and he wants to grab something to eat. If Annabeth didn’t know any better, she’d say that that sounds like a real, honest-to-goodness, bona fide date. (Meeting up at and subsequently leaving bars together does not count as a date, she’s pretty sure. Neither do the booty calls.) He’s been getting a little free with his texts, that boy, sending her selfies and memes and questions about her day, and now this? An invitation to their first, actual date? She should block him on principle, just for the sheer audacity.

sure, wya

520 8th, text me when you get here 😁

That’s another thing: Percy loves his emojis. If this is going to continue, they’re going to need to have a serious talk about that. 

She doesn’t need to text him when she gets there; he’s already outside, leaning on the stone edifice of the building like a particularly jacked rent boy in his tight t-shirt and broody look, cigarette between his fingers. The sweatpants sort of ruin the image, though. He looks particularly comfortable in a way that warms Annabeth right from the inside out. “You know, when Nico said you smoked, I honestly didn’t believe it.” she says, not even bothering to say hi. 

He looks up from his phone and smiles, the sun behind his teeth. “Hey!” 

“Hey, yourself.” She doesn’t even hesitate--she plucks the cigarette out of his hand, taking a drag off it herself. “You been smoking for a long time?”

“Who do you think taught Thalia how?” He raises an eyebrow, bemused. “Is that a problem?”

It is, but it’s not like she can tell him that without losing some of her credibility. “Wouldn’t smoking fuck with your cardio?”

Percy shrugs, conceding. “A little. I used to be a lot worse, but I just can’t quite kick the habit. It’s mostly a stress thing, anyway.” 

“Rough practice?” she asks, putting just enough effort into her lip wobble to make it abundantly clear that she’s making fun of him. “Were the other boys being mean to you because of your tights?”

He grins at her, saucy. “Annabeth Chase, do you really think that NYCB rehearses here? In the Garment District?” But he laughs before she can stammer out an answer (and thank God, she’s lived here three years and can barely keep the boroughs straight, let alone the neighborhoods). “I just wrapped up teaching a class. I don’t have to be at rehearsal until 5, I was thinking we could hang out? Bryant Park?”

A first date at the New York Public Library. She almost hates to admit it, but Percy Jackson might be kind of her dream man. “I believe I was promised food,” she sniffs, but she does hold out her hand, and when he takes it, lacing his fingers through hers, she’s sure that he can feel her heart beating, palm to palm. 

Twenty minutes later they’re settled on a bench in the corner of the green, Annabeth halfway into a ham sandwich and Percy juggling a salad and an iced coffee. He’s been regaling her with tales from the more exciting side of ballet, a side she hadn’t even imagined could actually exist. “So by the time I land in Paris,” he says, taking a sip of coffee, “the guy’s foot has swollen up to, like, twice its original size, and when I finally managed to find some wifi to check my phone, there’s, like, eight missed calls from my mom and my agent, and an email from her that just says ‘READ THIS,’ in all caps, and of course the article is in French, which I didn’t really speak at the time, and I was so stressed that my ADHD made it so I couldn’t even read the Google translation, and I had to ask someone to translate it for me.”

“Oh my god,” she says, struggling to keep it in.

“And that’s how I found out that I’d been moved up to first cast in Le Corsaire, from the poor barista at a coffee shop in Charles de Gaule!” He laughs. 

“That’s insane,” Annabeth says. “And the show was the next day?”

“It was that night! I had to haul ass to the opera house and get warmed up, because I was going on in about four hours. You should have seen the looks on everyone’s faces when I stumbled in, I’m sure that they all wanted to kill me.” Percy chuckles, taking a bite of leafy greens. “Now I wasn’t just the twenty-year-old upstart American, I was the twenty-year-old upstart American who skipped town when I wasn’t supposed to.”

“How did it go?”

“Killed it, of course,” he says, deservedly smug. 

Despite her best efforts, she’s absolutely entranced; he’s a great storyteller. “I bet you break that story out at parties all the time, don’t you.”

He laughs. “Whatever gets the donors to open their checkbooks, right?”

“I can’t believe you lived in Paris. I’ve always wanted to see it.” She’d had a few chances to when she was in college, the semester she’d studied abroad in Rome, but she just never got around to it. Just another item on her long, long list of regrets, placed somewhere between the sketchy burrito from last week and not telling her mom to fuck off earlier when she’d had the chance. “If I were you, I’d never leave.”

Percy shrugs. “It was amazing, I won’t lie. But towards the end I just really, really missed it here. All my family is in NYC, you know? My mom, step-dad, and my sister live here, and Thalia and Nico and Hazel, too. I tried to come back and visit whenever I could, but being away from them was really hard.” There’s something soft and inviting in his expression when he says, “I’m really happy to be back home.”

“What are they like?” Annabeth asks. “Your family. Your non-mob family, I mean.”

He rolls his eyes, but he grins another one of those blinding grins, too. “My mom is the most amazing person you will ever meet. Not only did she support my dance habit, she did it as a single working mother who had to raise an angry, ADHD asshole of a son who didn’t always appreciate her. I don’t even want to know how many hours she had to work or how many scholarships and grants she had to track down in order to pay for me to go to SAB, but somehow she made it work, and managed to write her novel at the same time. She married my step-dad the summer I turned sixteen, and my baby sister was born the next year.” 

Even Annabeth, cynical and black-hearted as she is, has to smile back. The love he has for his mom is so palpable, so tangible, she can practically see him glowing. “And the…” What had Thalia called them? “The ‘Cousin Consortium’?” 

At that, Percy laughs, full-bellied, unrestrained. “The name was Nico’s idea. I didn’t really have many close friends when I was a kid, apart from my buddy Grover--he had to wear this really gnarly leg brace and I liked to dance, so you can imagine how much we got picked on--but we were all really close growing up, since our dads were all assholes. They may have left us emotionally scarred, but at least we had each other’s backs the whole time.”

This is a very Percy thing, she’s starting to realize: he can not and will not hold back on his feelings. He simply refuses to. Where most guys might try to hide or downplay their affection for their friends, Percy’s is written all over his face. Maybe it’s a byproduct of doing ballet, but he’s so unashamed of his love for his friends and his family and his art, that maybe Annabeth kind of wishes she could be included in that love too, if it always feels this warm and joyful. 

“I think it’s amazing that you guys are so close. I only had the one cousin when I was growing up, and we didn’t really talk all that much,” Annabeth says, almost without her permission. Something about him, it’s just so easy to talk to him. He makes it safe to open up.

“The med school guy, right?” 

Annabeth nods. “Magnus. Fifth generation Harvard student. We’re all very proud.” 

Ugh. Even she has to wince at the false cheer in her voice. Percy gives her a half-smile, sympathetic and soft. “Harvard not really for you, then?” he asks, picking up the threads of a long and complicated story, and one that she absolutely does not want to get into right now. Or ever, if she can help it. 

“More like I wasn’t really for Harvard.” Which wasn’t entirely untrue. She had been good enough for the university in Cambridge, Mass--good enough for two degrees and graduation with honors--but she had never been good enough for her mother’s capital-H Harvard. Never good enough for her mother at all, really. 

Percy takes her hand. His fingers are cold from his iced coffee. “Hey. It’s their loss,” he says, with a sincerity and an intensity that makes her blush.

Every part of her wants to pull away. His thumb is rubbing against the joint of her finger, soothing and sweet, and she thinks she may break out in hives from it. “Damn right it is,” she mumbles. 

He is so nice. So nice and hot and sweet. Objectively, what she’s about to do is a terrible idea, and might torpedo a really good thing that they have, but if she doesn’t come clean now her own guilt is going to drive her insane.

“Okay, I have a confession to make.” Percy raises his eyebrows, slurping the last dregs of his drink. “When we met… and then when we hooked up the first time… I may have… thoughtyouwereJason.”

He blinks. “Pardon?” he asks, mumbled around the straw.

Annabeth buries her head in her hands. “Please don’t make me say it again.”

“You… thought I was Jason?”

“Well,” she sputters, glaring at him through her fingers, “you were being all bro-y with Thalia!”

He is valiantly trying to hold in a smile. “You know, I distinctly remember telling you my name that morning.”

“I was really hungover,” she whines, “and you were shirtless and making breakfast so I wasn’t really… paying attention.”

“For a whole week?”

This is so embarrassing, why couldn’t she just keep her stupid mouth shut? “Yeah.” She slumps her shoulders, stuffing her hands into her jacket pocket. “Sorry.”

She’s not entirely sure what she expected: at best a couple of weird looks and a tentative promise to meet up later that would end up not working out, at worst she thinks he’ll just get up and leave her here at Bryant Park. Either way, they’d be doomed to months of awkward interactions, until eventually they wouldn’t be able to be around each other, and Thalia would have to pick a side--and Annabeth’s seen what Thalia does to people who cross her family. She’s seen Thalia beat a dude to pulp for calling Nico the f-slur. Picking Percy over Annabeth? That’s nothing.

So when he starts laughing, Annabeth is completely at a loss. Slowly, at first, then all at once, he’s laughing so hard his shoulders are shaking, and he has to put down his salad so it doesn’t topple over onto the grass. His head is tilted back in joy, the grey, late afternoon light adamant that Annabeth can see all of his features clearly, from his screwed up eyes to his bright, white teeth to the single dimple in his cheek.

Of course, even his laughter is hot. Asshole. 

“You thought I was Jason!” He shrieks.

Annabeth crosses her arms, scowling. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I really don’t mean to laugh,” he giggles. Annabeth can feel her own giggle rising in response, and she ruthlessly quashes it. “I can definitely say I’ve never heard that one before. You do know Jason is blond, right?”

“As a matter of fact, I did not. Besides, you and Thalia look exactly alike.”

He scoffs. “No we don’t.”

“Uh, yeah you do. You, Thalia, and Nico are all basically clones of each other.” 

“Okay, Captain Glasses, whatever you say.” He rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat behind it.

“I’m sorry,” Annabeth feels like she has to say again.

He cocks his head. “For what? For thinking I was Jason? He’s a pretty cool guy.”

“No, for,” she blushes again. All this blood rushing to her head can’t be good for her. “For sleeping with you when I still thought you were Jason.”

Percy scoots closer to her, throwing her a grin and slinging his arm over her shoulders. Without even realizing that she’s doing it, she settles in beside him like she’s been doing it her whole life, slotted up against his torso, tucking her booted feet beneath her legs. “I am choosing to take that as a compliment,” he says, smirking. “You couldn’t resist my charms, even when you thought I was a brogrammer.” 

Annabeth can’t help herself. She kisses him, wiping that smug grin right off his face, and when she finally retreats, after what feels like hours, he looks so dazed she could probably keep calling him by any name she wanted and he wouldn’t even realize it.

After their lunch, they meander for hours, headed in a vaguely southerly direction, holding hands the whole time, a steady, uninterrupted flow that took them all the way from Midtown to Greenwich Village. He tells her about his first day at ballet school; she tells him about her favorite monuments. “There are two architectural environments in America,” she says, ranting, speaking with enough force that she might forget the feeling of his hand in hers, “endless dead suburbia, or cities where every single building is either a concrete or a glass block--and not even Brutalist concrete, just shitty, poorly designed, paint-by-numbers concrete. It is an absolute travesty of modern government that they don’t fund any public works projects anymore.”

“That’s why all the gardens and stuff?” he asks.

“Nowadays everything is built by the lowest bidder. At least I get to add some beauty back into the city.”

“I know what you mean,” Percy says. “Paris is practically overflowing with public works, you almost forget about it sometimes.”

She sighs. “You’re so fucking lucky. Paris is so beautiful and everything in New York is just hideous.”

“Aw, come on,” he says. “Not everything. What about the Empire State Building, or Central Park?”

“Well, obviously, those,” she says, just a teensy bit flustered, but she’s not about to give up the argument without a fight. “I just mean like, normal, every day buildings: offices and apartments and stuff. It’s all so samey and boring.”

He looks to her right, pointing at the building they are passing. “What about this one?”

She turns.

If she had known they were headed this way, she never would have taken them past here.

“It’s… okay, I guess,” she mumbles, staring up at the arched windows, pedimented doors, and Rococo details of Miss Minerva’s Private Pre-College Prep School. A shudder goes down her spine, like someone walking over her grave. “There are better Beaux-Arts buildings.”

Sensing her discomfort, he picks up the pace, and changes the subject.

Finally, he stops outside a nondescript building, turning to face her. “This is me,” he says, a little bit mournfully, squeezing her hand. “Are you okay to get home safely?”

This man is ridiculous; it’s not even dark out. “I think I can manage a few blocks,” she says, lightly swatting him. “Isn’t it kind of early for you, though? It’s only four o’clock.”

He flushes faintly, one hand coming up to rub at his neck. “Uh, well, I always give myself a little extra time--you know, time blindness and everything.”

“You baked in extra time in case I wanted you to walk me home, didn’t you?” She mock-gasps, secretly delighted. “Scandal!”

“Guilty,” he grins. “You’ve been to mine so many times, I was curious.”

She just barely stops herself from laughing out loud at the very idea of Percy coming to her apartment--as if. Thalia hasn’t even been to her apartment. Nobody knows where she lives, none of her neighbors know who she is, and this is entirely by design. “Cut me some slack; a girl’s gotta have some mystery. Can’t make it too easy for you, can I?”

“I have a feeling you’ll never make things easy for me,” he says, white teeth gleaming.

“You better believe it,” she smiles back. “Now that I’ve foiled your plans, are you going to be too bored?”

“Oh, I’ll think of something,” he shrugs. “I’m very resourceful when it comes to boredom.”

Inspiration strikes, and she grasps his hand, pulling him down the alleyway. She almost hates to admit it, but she has something of a Pavlovian response when it comes to hanging out with Percy. Annabeth has come to expect some really excellent sex whenever the two of them meet up, and maybe spending all afternoon with him has made her a little bit horny. 

She presses him up against the brick wall, hidden from the street by the long afternoon shadows, and kisses him. His hands flounder for a second, before coming up to rest on her shoulders, this thumbs tapping against the base of her neck, fingers fluttering on her jacket. It’s an intimate touch, kind of chaste and very respectful, and he holds her with precision and grace. He wouldn’t do anything she wouldn’t want to. This is a date with no expectation of sex on his part. But Annabeth does not want grace right now, spooked by the ghost of her old school. She does not want precision. She just wants him. She just wants to keep him on his toes, keep him interested, blow his mind a little. 

She just wants to blow him, to be honest. 

He squeaks into her mouth as her hands fly to his belt, deft fingers practically ripping it off of him in an increasingly familiar motion. “H-hey,” he says, squeezing her shoulders, “this is--”

“Do you not want me to?” she asks, one hand playing at the top line of his underwear. 

“No--I mean, are you sure? I’m-I’m okay with this, I just want to--”

“I know.” She kisses his cheek, then drops to her knees. “But we’ve got some time to kill, don’t we.” 

Afterwards, when she’s finished with him, Annabeth wipes her mouth, and he whimpers. 

“Ho… holy shit,” he pants, flushed and trembling. 

She tucks him back into his boxers, doing up his fly. “There we go. That was better than being bored, right?”

He nods wordlessly, swallowing, shaking. His eyes are glassy and glazed, stupid like he’s just shot out his brain through his dick.

In the short time they’ve been together (though, honestly, this might be the longest relationship she’s ever been in before… and they haven’t even broached the “dating” conversation yet) Annabeth has been on the receiving end of several different Percy looks. His face will light up with joy when he first lays his eyes on her, so happy to see her (though she can’t really fathom why), glinting like the sun on the water. His eyes will narrow, glaring, even as he furiously tamps down on his growing smile when they start arguing over something stupid, like Annabeth’s affinity for olives. He’ll grin at her, knife sharp and slanted, licking his lips and looming over her after she comes down from yet another orgasm via his mouth or his hands.

Percy looks at her now like someone took a bat to his head, and instead of seeing stars, he sees little miniature Annabeths flying around. 

He pulls her to him and kisses her, entirely too sweet for what she’s just done to him, but that is also a very Percy thing. And when she leaves him with a final kiss on his cheek and squeeze of his ass, she can feel that look burning a hole through her jacket, following her down the alley and around the corner, and she finds that she doesn’t mind the weight of it at all.

[lunarsaga]

Chapter 6: The Poison Master

Here it is, Chapter 6!

Chapter 7 is in the works, and will be going up on patreon soon! Stay tuned and follow me on Twitter for updates!

Don't forget that this is meant to read like a graphic novel, meaning the art pieces are part of the story and aren't meant to be skipped!

Also trying a new thing! "========" <- Lines like this are scene breaks "// ~ ~ ~ \\" <- and these are perspective changes!

ENJOY, MY LOVES! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

===========================================

“I’m going after Jakotsu.”

It was said with such confidence—the confidence of a man who had not just been struggling to keep himself from getting sliced to pieces by an undead murderer that kept trying to flirt with him—that Luna just had to wonder if it was really Inuyasha saying it. (It was, of course. She was just being sarcastic.)

“That’s funny, I thought I just heard you say you were going after that psychopath.” Luna said to the half-demon. She idly pulled her hair down from her ponytail and began to weave it into a loose braid.

“I am!” Inuyasha said, indignant. “He couldn’t have gotten far.”

“Yes, but Inuyasha,” Miroku interjected, “aren’t you worried about that poisonous gas?”

“Whaddya mean?”

Thoughtful, Miroku glanced off in the direction where they’d encountered the first of the Band of Seven. The cloud had almost entirely dispersed, but if you looked hard enough, you could still see wisps of the toxic smoke drifting into the sky. “Well, Jakotsu seemed to know something about it.”

“You’re right…” Inuyasha said, “You think it’s another member of the Band of Seven?”

“Could be…” Sango mused, “but didn’t Jakotsu seem to be in danger himself? Why would a member of his own team endanger him?”

“Infighting?” Luna guessed, running her fingers through the tangles in her hair. “They’re ruthless mercenaries, I wouldn’t expect them to be one big bloodthirsty family… Unless…” She tilted her head, trailing off in thought.

“Unless what…?” Kagome asked, looking at her sister in concern.

Luna paused another second, still deep in thought as she began to weave her hair into a loose braid. “I mean… If Jakotsu knows the guy? He probably knew that there was still time to avoid the poison. He did tell Inuyasha to get out of the way, remember.” Only Inuyasha, but still.

Inuyasha turned away from the rest of them, uncrossing his arms. “Whatever the case, I’m not letting him get away. You all stay here, and stay safe.”

“Don’t do anything stupid!” Luna called after him as he ran off.

“You’re one to talk.” Ai snorted, earning her a gentle kick from the Hunter sitting next to her.

Kagome stood from where she’d been rifling through her bag, holding a nearly-empty plastic bottle. “Ah, we’re almost out of water… I think I saw a well on our way over here, I’m gonna go fill this up.”

Luna arched an eyebrow at her sister. “Is going off on your own a good idea when there’s a bunch of killer zombies in the area?”

Kagome sighed, smiling back at her. “I’ll be fine, it’s not far. Shippo, why don’t you come with me?” Shippo grinned and jumped into Kagome’s bike basket as she got it on the road. “You should show Sango your crossbow, Luna.”

“Crossbow?” Sango asked.

“Ah, yes, I’m actually interested in seeing how it works up close,” Miroku said, “I saw you use it on Jakotsu, it was impressive.”

Luna smiled and shook her head. “Alright, be safe, Kagome.” She hoisted up the crossbow to show her friends how the arms unfolded, getting a little chuckle out of it when the two of them jumped.

“It does that all on its own?” Sango asked as Luna handed it over to her. She was unsure where to hold it for a second, but Luna showed her how.

“Yep, they’re spring-loaded, so they just pop out,” Luna explained.

Luna went on to answer all sorts of questions about it, and while Sango and Miroku (and even Kilala) seemed interested in the strange contraption, Ai had heard it all before, when Luna had first returned to this world with it. She stretched herself out, her tail fluffing itself out as she curled up against a warm rock. Mmm… warm… Her eyelids began to droop as she got comfortable there; it had been such an exhausting day already…

But as she was about to drift off, she took a deep breath, and a rancid smell hit her nose. She jolted upright with a disgusted hiss, trying to find where the smell was coming from.

“Ai?” Luna asked, “What’s up?”

Kilala seemed to pick up on the scent too—something foul was drifting in the air. The elder cat demon transformed into her full form, and Ai stood, hair bristling.

“Something doesn’t smell right.”

Luna picked up on the tension right away, and her thoughts immediately went to her sister. “God damnit, Kagome...” She hissed, going to her backpack and rifling through it.

“Kagome’s in trouble?” Miroku stood, worried.

“The smell’s coming from the same direction she went,” Ai said.

“And the smell could be that person with the poison,” Sango had already grabbed Hiraikotsu and was putting on her Slayer’s mask. “We don’t wanna take any chances—it’s too bad I only have one of these…”

“No worries, I’ve got these. Here, Miroku.” Luna pulled a medical mask out of her kit to hand it to her friend. “It won’t do much, but it’ll at least keep you from inhaling anything.”

“Thank you, Luna—what about you?”

Luna held up something from her bag: her own mask. It was a military-grade gas mask with a clear face shield, modified to fit a Hunter’s needs. “This one’s mine. It’s made specifically for Hunters like me,” She said as she slipped it over her head. She was well aware that to the locals she might look like a demon, but fuck if she cared; her sister was in danger. The first thing in hand was her crossbow, and she grabbed her ammo bag as she was taking off running.

As it turned out, they were right to call the masks, but Luna certainly didn’t expect to find an entire village choked with poison like a deadly mist. It was barely past lunchtime, and they’d already seen so much death—it was disheartening to see bodies strewn everywhere. But through the mist, they could see Shippo rolling on the ground and coughing, Kagome crouched on her hands and knees, and some weird little figure looming over her. (Well, maybe looming was a strong word. The guy was like three feet tall.)

Sango didn’t hesitate to swing Hiraikotsu; the first swing shattered the poison bottle in the creep’s hand.

“Stay back!” Shouted the little toad of a man.

“Like hell I will,” Luna snarled, aiming her crossbow at the poison master. “Step away from my sister. Now.”

Shippo was finally able to scramble to his feet, and, unsure of what else to do, proclaimed: “I’ll go get Inuyasha!” and took off running.

“Ai, go with him!” Luna said to her friend. The Bakeneko hesitated a moment, worried, but then shifted into her full form and took off after the young fox demon.

“He had to be the one behind the smoke,” Miroku said, of the poison master, “Which means he must be another member of the Band of Seven!”

The laugh that exited the little man made Luna want to vomit. “Yes! I am Mukotsu, Poison Master!”

“Then tell me, Mukotsu, someone must have resurrected you all,” Miroku continued. “Is Naraku behind all this?”

“Hehehehehe, couldn’t tell you! You’ll have to ask the Captain…” He trailed off, reaching back into the little box he was carrying on his back and quickly retrieving another bottle of poison. “Should you survive, that is!”

Luna wasn’t about to give him another second to unplug the bottle. She tried to step toward her sister again, but she only got to fire once before her vision was blocked by powerful black smoke that ejected towards them. Kilala—completely unaffected by the poison, it seemed—jumped in front of Luna to block the bulk of it.

“NO!” Luna shouted, trying to see around the giant Nekomata, “Kagome!”

Luna felt the crushing weight of helplessness almost immediately. That was her sister, helpless and about to pass out, and she couldn’t help. She couldn’t see, couldn’t move, couldn’t do… anything.

It was less than a minute until the smoke cleared, but it felt like an eternity. When she could see again, it only confirmed what she already knew: her sister had been taken. She knew her mask would’ve filtered out whatever the poison was made of, but her legs were still shaking. Not with pain, not with shock… but with pure, unbridled anger. Her lungs could only draw in sharp, furious breaths.

Lock it up, she told herself. She focused the energy buzzing around in her head on keeping herself contained—as best she could. Her face was solid as stone, and she snapped into work mode. She needed to make sure Sango and Miroku were okay—she could just see them again through the dissipating smoke. She looked them both over quickly, trying to make sure they hadn’t been affected.

“We’re alright, are you okay?” Sango asked her, “Where’s Kagome?”

“Gone.” Luna said flatly. “Let’s move. That little freak couldn’t have taken her far.”

“We should go back to where we were first,” Miroku suggested. “I have a feeling we are going to need the rest of both of your supplies.”

==============================================

When Kagome regained consciousness, she was in a completely different place. Her vision was still blurry—all she could make out was a wooden floor beneath her, and a hearth a few feet away. She tried to reach up to rub her eyes, but her arm wouldn’t move. She blinked, but her eyelids were so heavy. That was the only movement she could manage, and it was like trying to lift blocks of concrete.

My body… I can’t move…! She could feel her heart pounding in terror. She was trapped, in the worst way possible.

That guy—the “Poison Master” guy—he was a member of the Band of Seven. He’d done something… She could hear him, a few feet away from her, cackling in a way that made her stomach turn.

“We’re surrounded by a barrier of poisonous gas,” He uttered as he moved closer to her, “no one can disturb us!”

If she could move her face, she would have winced in disgust. This guy was creepy to the extreme—she knew in the back of her mind that if Luna were here, she would’ve kicked the absolute crap out of him. Kagome wanted to, too, but…

The Poison Master—Mukotsu, that’s what his name was, wasn’t it?—he kept chuckling as he grabbed Kagome’s chin. “Such a rare beauty—I’m so fortunate getting married to such a pretty girl~”

MARRIED? Kagome felt sick.

“You see, believe it or not,” Mukotsu reached up to remove the cloth mask covering most of his face, “there are some that find me unattractive.”

And no wonder, she thought as she was able to take in his full visage. He looks like a toad!

Kagome had no option but to physically abide by the “bridal preparations”; she felt like a ragdoll. It was humiliating. Surely her friends were coming—lord knows Luna would tear the countryside apart just by herself to find her, and if Shippo went to get Inuyasha? Kagome knew she was going to be okay, eventually, but she wasn’t about to just sit here and let this creep treat her like an object.

I have to find a way out of here, she thought, resolute. But how…?

She couldn’t move her head more than a little, but as Mukotsu was trying to dance her around for a “Marriage Ceremony” (gross), she caught sight of something glinting in his neck.

That has to be a Jewel Shard! If I can just get it somehow… Now she had to figure out how she was going to do that. Thankfully, the Universe provides. Mukotsu returned her to the floor after their “marriage dance”, this time directly facing the hearth, and she saw her opportunity: sticking upright out of the ashes was the fire poker. Now if I can just grab it...

Then, like a miracle, help finally arrived. “Arrived”, meaning “crashed through the roof”, but her friends and her sister arrived all the same.

“Kagome!” She heard Sango’s voice first, right next to her. Her friend helped her roll over, and from there Kagome could see her sister and Miroku: Luna had her crossbow ready to fire, pointed at Mukotsu—and she had on this odd-looking mask. Something from her arsenal, no doubt.

“Kagome, are you alright?!” That was Miroku.

There was a click as Luna drew back the crossbow’s string, ready to fire. “Get the fuck away from my sister.” Her voice was gravely steady—she almost didn’t sound like herself.

“How dare you interrupt our wedding ceremony!” Mukotsu grabbed one of his poison jars.

“Oh, so you wanna die, then!” Luna snarled.

Sango stood, quickly drawing her katana and brandishing Hiraikotsu like a shield. “Luna, leave him to me! Get Kagome away!”

No time to argue. Luna growled and stooped to grab her sister, just as Mukotsu unleashed the contents of the jar. Kagome watched Sango and Miroku stagger back, before Luna rolled her out of the way.

As the poison billowed around the room, Kagome felt her fingers regain some motor control. As her sister pulled up the hood of her flannel shirt to try to shield them from the cloud, Kagome managed to tug on it.

“The Shard…” Kagome managed to utter. “In… his neck…”

She saw the realization in Luna’s face, and the older girl nodded. “Got it, aim for the throat. Try to hold your breath, sis, I’ll have everyone out of here in a sec.”

“Those masks of yours won’t help!” Gloated the Poison Master, “This poison enters through the eyes and skin!”

“God damnit!” Kagome could only watch as her sister swore and staggered. Sango and Miroku had already fallen to the floor, and Luna was clearly not going to last much longer, either.

I have to help! Steeling her resolve, Kagome forced her hands to move. Come on, body… move! She pushed herself up just enough to grab the poker from the fireplace.

// ~ ~ ~ \\

Luna refused to crumble. She stood between her sister and Mukotsu, stumbling and shaking but still able to raise her crossbow. But with her arms getting weaker by the second, aiming steadily was getting pretty damn hard. Still, if she could just hit the bastard…

She was only able to let off one bolt, and the force of it sent her staggering backwards, until she stumbled into the wall and hit the floor. She felt sick; she doubled over onto her hands and knees, her vision drifting between blurry and straight up red. She was not going to be defeated by this lowlife.

You keep fighting, kid. No matter what happens, you keep fighting.

The voice echoed in the back of her mind, a voice she knew all too well. Her arms couldn’t hold her up anymore, but as she watched Mukotsu get closer to her sister again, she pushed herself away from the wall. Tears in her eyes, she struggled a few feet across the floor on her stomach to grab her crossbow again. She saw her sister, finally getting her strength back, stab the motherfucker in the throat. She wanted to cheer for her, but that would have to wait.

Mukotsu smacked Kagome back to the floor, which only fueled Luna’s rage. Her crossbow was ready to fire—but damn, she couldn’t see through the cloud of poison! It was starting to fog up the face shield on her mask, making it even harder to aim. But with the fucking creep trying to choke her baby sister out, she had to fight.

Dammit!

Luna took a deep breath, ripped the mask off, and got in position to aim—which was a tall order. Everything was fuzzy and she was mere seconds from passing out. She saw the light of the jewel shard (was that what that weird glow was?) and aimed for it. She only had one shot, it had to be enough. She hoped it would be enough. She let the bolt loose… and heard Mukotsu cry out.

She could barely see, barely breathe, barely move—but… wait… that glow wasn’t the Jewel Shard after all, was it? This glow was a sickly sort of green. And there was a lot of white behind it. Was she… was she seeing things? Was that….

“Kags…” Her voice was weak as she tried to crawl toward her.

“Luna…!” Kagome was still just as weak, but managed to shift toward her sister.

“Tell me, is Inuyasha here?”

Kagome turned back toward the powerful demon who stood over them, completely unaffected by the cloud of poison. Luna followed her gaze, and for a second she thought she was hallucinating; she could’ve sworn, even in her delirium, that she saw the bolt she fired buried deep in Sesshomaru’s shoulder. The end of it was letting off little sparks of purple light that quickly faded—but Luna’s vision was finally going out. She could hear her sister calling her name one more time before she fully passed out and crumpled to the wood floor.

[spaceskam]

what’s it gonna be? (3/3)

warning for implied childhood trauma & homelessness

previous |

ao3

It was awkward.

“So, uh… Yeah, Liz is cool. Smart. She talks a lot,” Max said, picking at a loose string on Isobel’s comforter. Michael was curled up on the bean bag again, his eyes on the floor. Could he tell that Max had accidentally fallen a little too hard for Liz? 

“Alex is cool and smart too. Probably smart in a different way. He knows a lot about music. Um, he likes movies. Basically just art in general,” Michael answered, looking up at him, “He smokes, I don’t know if that’s a dealbreaker for you.” 

Max shrugged, “As long as he doesn’t do it a lot.”

“He doesn’t,” Michael insisted, “Just sometimes.”

Max breathed in and nodded, eyes going to the ceiling as he tried to think of what else he wanted to say. He’d talked to Liz so much, but he didn’t really want to share. It felt like his information even though it wasn’t really private. It just felt special because it came from her.

“Liz wants to be a biological engineer when she gets older, kinda like you,” Max tried.

“Cool,” Michael said, “Kinda like how Alex is into artistic stuff like you.”

They both sort of stalled at. Max wondered if their plan had really failed that spectacularly. He’d fallen for Liz and apparently Michael had failed at learning anything about Alex. Max wasn’t really ready to give Liz up, but now he had to. They made a deal. 

“So, uh, maybe we should just, like, all hang out at the Crashdown or something? That way we can sort of get a neutral setting. And Liz and Alex are friends, so it’ll work out,” Max suggested. Michael took a deep breath and nodded. He looked out of it. “Hey, man, you good?”

“Yeah, yeah, I, uh, just didn’t sleep much last night,” Michael admitted, “Crashed on Old Man Sander’s couch and his dog kept jumping on me.”

“Well, you’re sleeping here tonight, so no dog,” Isobel said as she walked out of the bathroom that connected her room and Max’s. She was wearing a strapless white dress that was tighter on top, but flared out at the waist and went down to a few inches above her knees. “Are you guys done talking about boring stuff long enough to tell me I look good?”

Michael and Max both laughed at that. Max was thankful she came in and changed the subject. It was too awkward despite their previously agreed upon subject. At this point, once Michael got with Liz, Max wasn’t even sure he was going to go after Alex at all. Sure, he was hot, but Liz was everything.

“You look great, Iz,” Michael said first. Isobel smiled and looked at herself in the mirror hanging on her closet door.

“I know,” she breathed, twisting to look at herself, “But I don’t think this is the one.”

“Then change,” Max suggested. She again looked at herself before turning to face them.

“I’m gonna buy a new one,” she decided, looking between them, “Have you guys gone shopping yet?” Neither of them answered and she rolled her eyes. “Boys.”

They watched her strut back into the bathroom to change out of her dress and Max rolled his eyes. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to go to the dance anymore, not if he couldn’t go with Liz. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, could they?

He just had to figure out how to actually be a wingman now.

-

Michael waited a few houses down from Alex’s house, fingers tapping on the steering wheel as he rested his head back.

Ever since he left the Evans residence that evening (he planned to return later to spend the night there, but he had to at least make it look like he left) he’d been trying to think of a good way to distance himself from Alex. It’d only been a week, but it was too easy to get obsessed with someone like him. He was really sad that he had to let go and let Max have him. Hell, he didn’t even know how to ask Alex to go hang out with them so they could do that. He just liked being with him alone.

The passenger side door quickly swung open and Alex climbed in, closing it behind him. He instantly got into Michael’s space, a smile on his face that only came out when the sun was down. In a way, Michael understood that and he smiled right back.

“I got you something,” Alex said softly. Michael furrowed his eyebrows.

“What? You shouldn’t have gotten me any‒”

“Shh, I got you something,” Alex said, scooting a little closer. Alex was sitting sideway, his left knee bent and resting on Michael’s lap so he could move closer. Michael waited patiently.

Alex reached into his bag and pulled out a small yellow flower, somehow unharmed by being in his bag. Michael’s heart swelled in adoration and his throat seemed to close with it, rendering him completely speechless. Alex just smiled and moved to tuck it behind his ear in lieu of the joint he tended to keep there. Once it was all settled, Alex gently grabbed his jaw and pressed the softest kiss to his cheek. Again, Michael didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t quite sure when they crossed from intense stares to flowers and cheek kisses, but the idea of going back made his chest ache.

“I got you something else too,” Alex told him, gently nudging his nose against Michael’s cheek before giving him another kiss there and pulling away. Michael swallowed hard as he watched Alex pull his bag onto his lap. It clanked with the sound of cans and, sure enough, Alex pulled out a bottle of spray paint. “Let’s go tag some shit.”

“Yeah, fuck it, let’s do it,” Michael said, voice a little hoarse. Alex grinned wildly and didn’t move an inch as Michael put the truck in drive.

Alex stayed close as they drove to the only parking lot downtown, his fingers carefully pulling at Michael’s curls and watching them bounce back. Michael couldn’t help but bounce the leg that wasn’t being used to press the pedals as excited energy pulsed through him. Alex had reached out to hold it down for a second, but all that did was make him bounce it even more once his hand let up. It made him laugh which just made it all better. Max who?

He pulled into the parking lot, a few miscellaneous cars still there for whatever reason. Shops had closed an hour ago, though, so it was pretty empty. As Michael shut off the engine, Alex pressed his finger into his chin to make him look at him. Michael did just that.

“You can run just in case, right?” he asked. Michael nodded and Alex smiled, leaning forward and kissing the tip of his nose. It took Michael a second to realize when he started getting out of the car.

Alex led the way as they walked down the empty street, acting normal as possible. There was a moment when Alex seemed to get comfortable, though, and he grabbed Michael’s hand. And then they were holding hands. Because they could.

“I like nighttime, it feels safe. Easier to hide if I need to,” Alex offered up. It was the first blatant statement he’d ever said about himself, one Michael didn’t have to read between the lines to get his meaning. 

“Why would you need to hide?” Michael asked. Alex shrugged, squeezing his hand as he started to swing them a little.

“I don’t know,” Alex said, voice soft even for the still of the night, “Home sucks and I’m too big to fit in the cabinets anymore.”

“But you’ve got a home, right? That’s gotta count for something,” Michael said. He didn’t really have one of those, not a permanent one at least. Still, Alex shrugged.

“Maybe,” he admitted, “I’ll let you know if I think of anything.”

“I’ll be here,” Michael promised. Alex smiled a little again, bringing their linked hands up to his mouth. He kissed Michael’s knuckles with his eyes closed, the whole thing more meaningful than he could actually comprehend. It was so safe. “I like hanging out with you like this.”

“Let’s keep it up then.”

Alex grabbed his hand a little tighter and pulled him down an alleyway between two shops. He let go when they got to the back of the alley, one two more hall-like paths perpendicular to the one they’d just walked down. Michael kept watch as Alex dropped his bag, digging out what he needed. A giant stencil, tape, and a can of spray paint. 

Michael helped hold down the stencil as Alex put some tape on the corners, covering old tape. As he looked at it, though, he saw the very familiar symbol of a stereotypical alien head only it looked like it was melted and had star-shaped eyes and Alex used red paint.

“I’ve seen these around town,” Michael said softly. Alex smiled and put a hand on his chest, backing him away. 

“They’re super simple, but it pisses off the locals,” Alex told him before pulling the collar over his shirt over his mouth and nose. Michael did the same and watched him shake the can before spraying it over the stencil.

“You’re a local,” Michael pointed out.

“Ouch, hit me where it hurts, why don’t you?” Alex scoffed, but there were those little crinkles by his eyes that showed he was still smiling. Michael rolled his eyes. “C’mere.”

Michael did as he said, taking over the spray paint and coloring in the stencil in the same way he’d seen Alex do it. Once it was filled in enough, Alex put the lid back on the paint and went to take off the stencil. They both took a step back to admire that admittedly simple but still exhilarating work.

It was only when they heard people laughing and saw the approaching sight of phone lights that Alex grabbed his arm and tugged him to the left. His back was pressed up against the wall and Alex was pressed up against him, faces so close he could feel his breath. It was overwhelming.

“Shh,” Alex shushed, moving in just a little closer under the guise of hiding. However, Michael wasn’t stupid. Or, actually, maybe he was extremely stupid. Either way, he pushed himself forward just enough to finally kiss Alex on the lips.

Alex sighed in relief and pressed in harder, his hand the only thing keeping his head from hitting the brick wall. He tasted better than Michael could've imagined and he got his hands on Alex's face to hold him close, his tongue slipping past his lips to deepen the kiss. It was too good. Fuck Max.

"God, I've wanted to do that for so long," Alex breathed, smiling wider than he ever had. Michael thought about asking how long, about figuring out how much time he'd wasted by not noticing Alex earlier. He pushed the thought away for later.

"Then don't stop," Michael said.

"Don't plan on it."

-

Liz Ortecho was somehow infinitely more appealing when she was entirely off limits.

They were supposed to just be studying on this fine Sunday afternoon, but, as they sat on the hood of his Jeep and watched the sunset, it felt like much more. His conversation with Michael that morning loomed in his mind, though, and he kept trying to figure out how to ask her to go have a meal so he could introduce her properly to Michael.

“Have you ever had a girlfriend, Max?” Liz asked randomly, looking over at him to see he was already staring at her. She smiled when she noticed which saved him the embarrassment.

“No,” Max answered honestly. Liz rolled onto her side.

“Well, like, have you ever kissed anyone?” she wondered, resting her head in her hand. Max shrugged and nodded.

“Yeah, a couple times,” he answered honestly. Liz looked at him, her eyes searching his face in a way that made heat pool in his cheeks. “Have you?”

“Yeah,” Liz said, moving a little closer. She looked pretty in the sunset. She always looked pretty. “And I’ve been wondering when you’re finally going to kiss me.”

Max’s eyes widened and if he’d had any less of a grip on his place laying on the hood, he would’ve fallen off the car. Liz just smiled as if she was proud of his shocked expression.

“Huh?”

“We’ve been hanging out and talking for, what, a week now? And you haven’t even tried, not even when I went for it,” Liz told him, tilting her head, “Do you not want to?”

“No, I…” Max breathed, trying to find the words to say. He knew he should’ve said no, but she was staring at him like she wanted him and that didn’t happen to him a lot. And it especially didn’t happen to him when that person looked like Liz Ortecho. Michael who? “I want to.”

“Then do it,” Liz instructed. Max just stared at her, a little overwhelmed and a little lost. He’d kissed two girls before, but neither of them had been so upfront with what they wanted. He liked it, though, even if it scared the shit out of him.

“I-I’m not really sure how to‒”

“Boys,” Liz scoffed, rolling her eyes before she leaned in for him.

Suddenly, Max was being kissed. Like, really kissed. Liz easily showed up the girls he’d kissed before if only based on sheer confidence alone. She knew what she was doing as she had her hand on his chest and she knew what she was doing when she moved on top of him.

Max held her waist as respectfully as possible as she kissed him, but his brain found it hard to even focus enough for that. She pushed her tongue into his mouth at some point and that seemed to be the moment he lost all guilt. Her strong thighs anchored on either side of his hips and her hands slowly slid down his chest before grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head. He felt surrounded by her and a little helpless to her in a good way. He liked the way him being a foot taller than her didn’t fucking matter.

Her hands squeezed his wrists gently before weaving her fingers to lock with his, still kissing him like the world was ending and this was all that mattered. Honestly, if it was, he wouldn’t care. He just wanted this.

“Wait,” he breathed, “Shouldn’t we be studying?”

Liz laughed, pulling back to look down at him. She looked confident in a way that made his heart beat a little harder in his chest. He wanted her to look at him like that for the rest of his life.

“Would you rather study chemistry, or,” Liz said, smiling as she slowly sat up. He stared at her as she led his hands to her thighs, trying to keep his entire system from freaking out over such a small little action. “Would you rather a little introduction to human biology?”

Max swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. Maybe he should mention the fact that his brother had a crush on her and they probably shouldn’t be doing this until he talked to Michael. God, Isobel was going to have a field day with his fuck ups. But, as he looked at Liz, he didn’t really care. Fuck Michael.

“Where do you want to start?” Max asked. Liz grinned so bright it could’ve taken out the sun. 

For what felt like a while and yet not long enough, Max and Liz kissed and touched on the hood of his Jeep. It was a brand new experience and he ended up needing a few minutes to calm down before he could drive her home. Liz thought it was funny.

“Next time we’ll have to be somewhere a little less uncomfortable than the hood of your car,” Liz decided with a laugh as he drove her home.

“Next time?” Max echoed. Liz swatted his arm gently.

“Yes, next time,” she said, “Maybe we could even, I don’t know, go to the dance together?”

Max took his eyes off the road to look over at her. She was watching him with that same confidence. He looked back to the road.

“You want to go to the Homecoming dance with me?” he asked. 

“Yeah, that’s why I suggested it,” she said. Max rolled his eyes and fought the smile that tried to show on his face. “Could be fun.”

Max thought about their agreement, how Michael wanted to take Liz. But, at this point, Liz had already made her choice. She liked him. Trying to pass her off to Michael would just be rude to her, right? It wasn’t his choice to make when it came to who she was seeing.

“Okay,” Max agreed, nodding his head, “Let’s do it.”

“It’s going to be fun,” she promised, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek to solidify the agreement.

Now he just had to figure out how the hell to tell Michael.

-

Michael watched Max like a goddamn hawk as they ate lunch.

He’d been up all night thinking about Alex and trying to figure out how to tell Max that they needed to just cancel the deal. He expected that Max was going to be really mad at him, but Isobel would be there to soften the blow and he had a hard time imagining a world in which Alex kissing him didn’t make a little brother’s quarrel worth it.

Max, however, was already avoiding his eyes. His tall body was hunched over his tray and he had been successfully ignoring everyone. Michael was slowly but surely becoming convinced that he somehow already figured it out and he was waiting for Michael to tell him so he could sulk even more publically. It made him feel even worse.

Still, Michael slowly scanned the cafeteria until he locked eyes with Alex. He smiled a tiny smile and looked back to his friends, but the smile was worth it. It gave him a little bit of strength to try and talk it out.

“Hey, Max, can we talk?” 

“Here we go,” Isobel said under her breath.

Max looked up at him, “Yeah, what about?”

“About the deal we made,” Michael said carefully. Max didn’t show any immediate expression, instead just watching Michael and almost following his lead. It made Michael uneasy. It shut him right up.

“Okay, yeah, I’m not about to listen to the world’s emptiest conversation,” Isobel butted in, “Just say what you need to say, both of you.”

Max and Michael both looked to Isobel, but she had that no-nonsense look on her face and they both looked back to each other. There was no going back. He’d already kissed Alex, Alex already admitted to liking him, that was it.

“I kissed Alex.” Michael blurted at the same time Max said, “I kissed Liz.”

“Now was that so hard?” Isobel asked. Max and Michael still stared at each other, both a little wide eyed and shocked.

“But you said Alex wasn’t your type,” Max accused. Michael scoffed.

“You said Liz wasn’t your type.”

“And having a type at all is boring,” Isobel added, “Which is why we’re not going to make a big deal out of this. You both have someone to make heart eyes at, we’re all good.”

“Are we actually all good?” Michael asked, “You’re not mad?”

“No,” Max said, eyeing him, “And you’re not mad?”

“No,” Michael admitted, “I really like Alex.”

“And I really like Liz.”

They both nodded slowly, both a little unsure of the other one’s words. Obviously, they weren’t lying, but it never hurt to triple check. They both seemed to be okay with it though.

“I guess it works out where we both have dates for the dance now,” Max pointed out. Michael laughed slightly, nodding.

“Yeah, you have a point.”

“You know what that means?” Isobel said, smiling as wide as she could, “Suit and dress shopping after school.”

Neither of the boys had it in them to say no.

-

As fun as kissing Liz in the backseat of his car was, Max eventually found himself overcome with guilt.

After settling things with Michael, he thought he would be able to forget the deal in the first place. He was happy with Liz. However, the more he thought about it, the more he felt bad that he wasn’t being completely honest about why he’d approached her in the first place.

“Liz, can I tell you something?” he asked. Liz pulled away, looking at him with a hesitant look like she wasn’t quite sure what he was about to say. Still, she nodded slowly. “So, well, basically, I don’t really know how to word this, but, basically, my brother has a crush on you.”

She blinked in shock, sitting up straight. “What?”

“Well, I mean, had a crush on you, technically,” Max specified. Liz eyed him a little still. “I originally told him that I would become your friend and then introduce him properly, but I ended up really liking you myself, so that failed. I just didn’t want to lie to you.”

Liz stared at him for what felt like an hour. In reality, it was probably only a minute. It still felt like forever.

“But he doesn’t like me anymore, right? Because he’s with Alex and I need to tell him if that’s the case,” Liz said. Max’s eyebrows shot up.

“You know about that?” he asked. Liz nodded.

“Alex tells me everything,” Liz said, “But you’re sure he’s not into me anymore?”

“He’s not,” Max promised, “He’s into Alex.”

“And you are into me, right?”

“So, so much.”

“Then we’re all good,” she decided, slowly relaxing again, “And that explains why you took so long to kiss me.”

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t that long,” he laughed. She rolled her eyes dramatically before moving back into his space exactly where she was welcome.

“It felt like forever.”

-

Michael hadn’t ever experienced a moment quite like the ones he shared with Alex.

They were laying in the back of his truck, huddled in the blankets and cuddling close. Alex was in his arms, his head securely under his chin, and their legs entwined. It was comfortable and safe and Michael dreaded the moment they’d have to move. But, when he thought about one day being able to do that in an actual bed, it made up for everything.

Still, there was still a main thing keeping him from relaxing entirely.

“Hey,” Michael whispered, “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah,” Alex whispered back. They were in the middle of nowhere, they didn’t have to whisper. They did it anyway.

Michael swallowed as he bowed his face against Alex’s head. “I started hanging out with you because Max had a crush on you, but I sort of accidentally ended up liking you way more than him.”

Alex was still for a second, long enough to instill some panic in Michael, before he snorted.

“Max Evans?” Alex asked, not moving from his comfortable spot against Michael’s chest.

“Yeah,” Michael said, smiling a little at Alex’s calm demeanor.

“No offense, but that never would’ve worked,” he admitted, lifting his head a little bit to look Michael in the eyes.

“Why not?” Michael asked. Alex smiled softly, reaching out to touch his cheek.

“Well, for one, I think I have way too much baggage for him,” he said. Michael snorted, nodding in agreement. “But mainly I don’t think I could ever date any of your friends. You’re just the only one I’ve wanted.”

“You want me enough to go to the dance with me?” Michael asked. Alex scrunched up his nose and gave a dramatic sigh.

“I mean, I guess,” he said. Michael laughed, moving forward to give him a soft kiss. Alex reciprocated it. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Michael promised, letting his eyes close as they settled into each other even more. He was sure more than ever that he had no doubts in his decisions. Alex was everything.

“I know you will.”

-

Isobel watched as Michael and Max sat with their dates in one of the booths at the back of the Crashdown. 

They were all dressed up and looking gorgeous despite the heat that was the school’s gym. None of them had decided to stay long, choosing to leave as soon as Isobel was announced Homecoming Queen. They’d congratulated her and gave her hugs, but she allowed them to get wrapped up in their dates. When prom came along, she would insist on much more attention.

For now, though, she was content to let them be happy. They were all smiles and heart eyes and, as much as she didn’t get it, she wasn’t about to ruin their party. She liked seeming calm and happy and laughing. They deserved it. That’s what mattered, right?

Isobel felt a little lonely and a little sad, but she would be okay. 

It wasn’t until later that night, though, that she really understood what being okay really was. Max snuck into her bedroom and crawled into bed beside her, wedging himself between her and the wall. A few seconds later, Michael was climbing off the floor and on the edge of the bed. They all stared at the ceiling together.

And, maybe for the first time, they were all happy.