#I put they/them in my bio for every organizer meeting and it’s always she/her still

[mogai-sunflowers]

if ur pro-Pali but you are queerphobic what are you even doing….

[quillsareswords]

Could you do something with Damian and a really cuddly, clingy, touchy-feely reader? I feel like his brothers would be v confused about the whole situation bc Damian's just chillin and always seems neutral to what's happening while reader is just like, koala bear hugging him and stuff all the time.

Firstly. I love this concept with every fiber of my being because, oh good god, it's me. Thank you so much for bringing this to inbox, because I've been lacking on inspiration lately, and this is just what I need right now. Thanks doll!!

Prompt List // Masterlist (in bio)

Tim stops dead in his tracks, cereal bowl nearly slipping from his hand as he halts in the doorway to the huge living room. He pauses, before cautiously asking, "What is this? What am I looking at?"

Damian's arm twitches against your back, the only give away that he's been caught off guard. You seem just as relaxed, sprawled on top of him like you've been there your whole life.

You don't even look at him, eyes still glued to the phone screen shining up at you from the floor, which you're facing with your face pressed against Damian's shoulder. "You've known me for five years and you still haven't learned my name? Rude."

He blinks. "Sure, sure. Right. Because it's absolutely normal for anyone to successfully get within a foot of Damian and not get knocked out."

You snort, but it still isn't enough to pry your attention away from your phone. Damian either, as he reads a book over your shoulder, which is settled under his chin. He must be tired or in a terrifyingly good mood, if he hasn't shoved you off in hopes of hiding emotions from his family. That's what he usually does when he gets caught with you, anyway.

He's been tiptoeing around the subject of you for a solid year and half now. It wasn't exactly easy, seeing as you're also a family friend, what with being a vigilante and all. You're Damian's partner, have been for three years, and you're in the manor often enough that you have your own room, right next to Damian's.

Still, even with no clear answers from either of you, the whole family has suspected a relationship for a long time.

But Damian isn't very touch oriented. In fact, he's been known to go to nearly astonishing lengths to avoid being touched at all.

And now here he is, you laying on top of him, out in the open, absolutely unbothered by Tim catching it.

Tim decides quickly not to risk Damian's mood spoiling while he's around, so he backpedals and heads for his room.

• • •

Jason doesn't come to the manor often, but when he does, there's usually a decently concerning reason for it. This time, he's waiting out a possible kidnapping by one king pin or another. You haven't been paying as much attention as you probably should.

Now, he's trotting down the steps from Bruce's office to fix a suspicious rattling noise his motorcycle has been making for a shameful period of time.

However, he stops beside the super computer, looking a little aghast and far too dramatic for the sight.

Damian side-eyes him, still typing away, but his head doesn't move. It really can't, because you're resting your head on top of it.

You're resting your full weight on the back of the chair, which Jason now realizes isn't the tall backed chair that usual sits there, with your cheek buried in the soft looking bush that is Damian's hair. Your eyes are closed, and your arms and draped over his shoulders, hands laying on his chest.

Jason catches himself staring when Damian's side-eyeing turns into a curious glare. Tentatively, Jason points to you, and raises an eyebrow.

Lowly, Damian somewhat patiently answers, "She's half asleep."

Your eyebrows slant together. "Hmm?"

Jason's expression becomes more confused. "She sleeps standing up?"

"Apparently," Damian mumbles.

Jason, more than a little perturbed but Damian's oddly placid demeanor and your absurd sleeping habits, shuffles the rest if the way to his bike, grabbing the toolbox on his way.

• • •

Dick sitting on the floor, wrapped in a blanket—correction, three blankets, facing the rest of the living room, where Damian sits on one couch, and Duke occupies the other.

"No no, I'm not saying Bella wasn't smokin, I'm just saying that those facial expressions and life decisions were questionable enough to make a guy think twice," Dick tries to reason.

Duke makes a face. "Bro, are you kidding? If a chick stares at you from across a lunch room and you've never spoke to her, you don't even try."

Damian scoffs. Duke raises an eyebrow, and just when he's about to beg for the story of who tied him to a steel chair and forced him to watch Twilight, you shoulder the double door open.

Damian doesn't look up from his newest book, which could be deemed rude if you weren't so close and comfortable with one another. "Evening, Beloved, how was your drive?"

You say nothing. You drop your bag by his feet, crawl the rest of the way onto the couch, and collapse. Your head in on a pillow between Damian's thighs and the arm of the couch, the rest of you divided unevenly between his lap and the rest of the couch.

He glances away from the pages briefly. "Traffic?" His hand slips under your shirt to gently run blunt nails up and down your spine.

For a moment, you're quiet, and neither of the two older men know how to react.

Then, without warning, you wail into the pillow. "Who the everloving fuck drives a Winnebago through central Gotham at six o'clock going fourteen miles an hour?"

Duke barks a loud laugh, before he claps a hand over his mouth in fear of a punishment. But a man can only do so much, so he sits with his hand over his mouth, giggling like a fifteen year old listening to a dirty joke with his parents in the room.

Damian chuckles lightly, white teeth peeking through a little smile that he's trying to suppress, much for the same reason Duke is doing his best not to let you hear him laugh.

Dick is more focused on the two of you, and the fact that his baby brother has grown up and changed for the better so much—

• • •

Cassandra climbs the stairs with some difficulty, thanks to two new sets of stitches and a few too many fresh bruises.

It's nothing a few days of relaxation won't fix. It was worth it, to see Poison Ivy put back behind bars—even if it did take four of you.

Shortly after arriving back, you and Damian had disappeared up to his room, after you'd both been checked over by Alfred. Aside from some intense bruising and a fee cuts and scrapes, you'd both been spared.

She knocks on his door a few times. With no answer, she loudly turns the handle and pushes the door open slowly, giving you enough time to correct her if need be. She knows at least one of you are in here, because the light is on. "Alfred sent me to tell you that there's dinner, if you want–"

She stops. You are, in fact, both in the room. However, neither of you are conscious.

Damian is sprawled haphazardly across his bed, face half squished into a pillow.

You're flopped across his back, horizontal across his bed, likely also with a pillow, but she can't see your face to be sure.

For a moment that feels a little intrusive, she stares, eyes wide. Not because he's in only boxers and you're in shorts and a sports bra (neither are necessarily a new sight, with one makeshift locker room in the Cave and a city with way too many privacy-surpassing emergencies), but because she's never witnessed Damian allowing another person to be so close to him while asleep.

Even on week long stakeouts that confine them to one room, he claims one corner for himself and doesn't tolerate that invisible boundary to be broken, especially when he's asleep.

She wouldn't even be so surprised if you were passed out in his reading chair, or even on a pile of blankets in the floor, or hell, even if you were on opposite sides of the bed. But you're literally as close to him as you could possibly be. And he's still sound asleep.

She closes the door and backs away slowly, a little smile on her face, even though she was too tired to laugh at the joke Bruce tried to crack a few minutes ago.

• • •

Bruce sits, almost impatiently, on a stone bench by the fountain the middle of Gotham City Gardens. The whole family had come here for the day, on invitation of the organization's owners. Of course, not everyone was officially recognized as family by anyone outside the Manor, so there were quite a few plus ones—you being one of them.

Of course you were. You're always invited. Over the years, it's become a running joke. A trip to the grocery store? (Y/N) must be invited. Walking from the W.I. building to an ice cream parlor and back? I bet (Y/N) is invited. At one point, Damian became so simultaneously annoyed and amused by it that for a week, you really did join him on every single outing. No one knows how exactly you made it across Gotham in six minutes flat to help him pick up cereal but by golly you managed it.

Bruce is currently waiting on you and Damian, who swore to meet him here for a few pictures (at Alfred's request). The pair of you had gone off on your own after about an hour of meandering around with his family, and no one has heard from either of you since. He would be worried, but you were both too excited about this to get into any trouble that would risk being sent home early.

Your laughter finds him before you do. It comes from around a corner of tall hedges, and shortly after, so do you.

You're smiling ear to ear, giggling like a school girl, elbows balanced on Damian's shoulders, about as precariously as you are on his back. That is to say, quite stable. Damian is grinning as well, his arms linked around you're knees at his sides to keep you as stable as you are. You've got an ice cream cone in each hand, one obviously having had more attention than the other.

Bruce's heart swells in his chest at the absolute joy on his son's face.

Damian stops not too far, shifting your weight to free one hand. You help, carefully resituating yourself to hold yourself up easily. You hand him the neglected ice cream, resting your now free hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, Father," Damian sounds a little winded, and Bruce wonders if the running he heard earlier had been you two. "Somebody found an ice cream bar and insisted we stop before meeting you." He doesn't sound apologetic in the least.

"Hey!" You laugh, flicking the back of his ear as payback.

As payback for payback, he takes the edge of his cone between his teeth, and uses his free hand to give the back of your knee a quick pinch, before he occupies his hand again to tilt the odds in his favor.

You squeal and jerk. "Damian! You're gonna make me fall, and if I go down, you're coming with me!"

Bruce laughs loudly.

• • •

Alfred is on his way to the library to finish the afternoon chores. All he needs to do is straighten up in there, and he can call it an evening. Just in time, too, as one of the local channels is running a Downton Abbey marathon tonight that he doesn't particularly want to miss.

He pushes open the doors to get a little extra fresh air, but pauses just inside the doorway.

Damian is stretched out in one of the plush leather chairs, his long legs propped up by his ankles on the coffee table, head resting limply on the back of the chair. You're curled up in his lap, head on his shoulder, legs folded up on either side of his thighs, arms wound around his back. His hands are folded together on your back. You're both fast asleep.

The elder man is suddenly flooded with memories of the boy's first few months in this manor. In this room, even. He was politely feral, as Bruce had once put it. He was so uncomfortable all the time, though he fought not to show it. It was so new to him, to be openly cared for the way his family tried to care for him. Most people he met back then treated him as the cold, rude, trained assassin that he presented himself as.

So many overlooked the terrified ten year old boy that shook beneath the armor and the weight of the mantels he was expected to take up in so few years.

Of course Alfred had been paying attention to him all this time, all the growing he's done and the man he's becoming. He's always been proud.

But it's here, in this exact moment, that Alfred really takes in how different he is now, compared to then.

Not only did he find the strength and the trust to forge a close bond with you, one that would arguably outlast just about anything it was forced to endure, but he'd fostered such a sweet affection for you. He's found the space within himself to make room for a great love for you, and his family, and his friends.

And you're so good for him. You remind him of the things he could be, if he wanted, and not of what he should be or could have been. You provide him a sense of normalcy when he needs it, and battle ready companion when he needs that.

You look past the blazing armor of controlled aggression and lessons learned to reach the beautiful soul he is. And most importantly, you love him for all of it. You manage to dig so far beyond what he's been taught and the walls he's put up, that you look at what was meant to be the perfect soldier and you see a pillow to sleep on. You trust him with everything, including your vulnerability, just as he trusts you.

Alfred marks the page of the open book on the floor, closes it, and leaves it in the table for you later. He leaves as quietly as he came, in hopes of leaving the two of you undisturbed.

[jaskiers-sweetkiss]

Swedish Hologram Crush

Pairing: Reggie x Alive!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none?

A/N: Happy last day of JATP Appreciation Week! Thank you to @jatp-week for organizing this, it’s been so much fun!! Today’s prompt was to write something in canonverse so I bring you my first ever Reggie fic featuring a Julie’s Classmate!Reader. Let me know if you‘d like to be tagged in any of my future jatp works because even though this week is over I will still be writing for these wonderful characters! As always, lmk what you think!!

Masterlist

___

You hadn’t meant to fall in love with a hologram boy from Sweden, you really hadn’t. It had just sort of happened.

Who could blame you though? You were pretty sure everyone in the gym fell at least a little bit in love with the band when they appeared as if by magic behind Julie that day. You, however, fell completely for the bassist.

You were first struck by his looks. Sure, the brunet and blond boys were cute but there was something about the bassist. His dark, styled hair and leather jacket over the red flannel. Your first thought was that he was hot, and then he smiled and your heart melted.

You could tell just by the way he performed and interacted with the crowd and his bandmates that he wore his emotions on his face and his heart on his sleeve. Then he sent a wink in your direction as he played.

You were hooked from then on.

You had so many questions for Julie when you got to your shared bio class. You’d somehow managed to be lab partners for two years in a row now and you worked quite well together so you didn’t feel like you were taking advantage of your situation to get information about the boy.

She told you his name was Reggie and that they were actually from Sweden. You’d been disappointed but unfortunately the fact that you’d probably never be able to meet each other let alone communicate didn’t stop your crush from developing.

You continued to inquire about him when you met at her house to study for tests or work on homework. She’d always tell you what you wanted to know but would always remind you, nicely, that you didn’t have a chance.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Y/N,” she’d say sincerely but you would wave her off.

“It’s just a harmless celebrity crush.”

“We’re not celebrities!” Julie would protest  and you’d grin.

“Not yet, you aren’t,” you would remind her, confident in the fact that her band was going places. “But when you go big and the whole world falls in love with those cute Swedish boys I’ll be able to say I was the first Reggie girl.”

You’d both laugh at that before returning to whatever school work you were working on.

You went to every performance you could as well, unable to get enough of the cute bassist and loving the band’s sound. You’d made it to their last-minute coffee shop gig and Julie’s garage party. The girl had even managed to score you a ticket to their Orpheum performance, knowing how big of a fan you were.

___

While Luke was going out of his mind trying to navigate his feelings and relationships it Julie, Reggie had an even bigger problem. He hadn’t been able to get you out of his mind since he’d first seen you in Julie’s school’s gymnasium. He asked Julie about you all the time and would often sit next to you on the couch when you came over to study. He knew you couldn’t see or hear him but he liked spending time with you, much like he did with Ray. Sometimes he’d help you when you got stuck on a problem since bio was one of his favorite subjects in school. You couldn’t hear him but Julie could and it always made him feel warm to know he helped you out.

His situation with you was worsened by the fact that he knew you had a crush on him as well. He heard you ask Julie about him (most of the time he would feed her the answers to your questions so you could know more about him) and he also heard you gush about how cute and talented you thought he was and how unfair it was that he lived in Sweden. He knew in the back of his head that telling you they were from Sweden was actually a smart idea, but he resented his friend for the choice as it meant you’d never know that he was there with you and interested in you too.

Luke had it easy, he often thought frustratedly. At least Julie and Luke could see each other and communicate. Reggie had to get by on the eye contact and smiles she gave him during their gigs. The hardest one had been the Orpheum when he had been sure that it was the last time they’d ever see each other again. It broke his heart when he disappeared after their bows, sending you one last smile and a wink like at their first performance.

When Julie saved them in the barn he couldn’t help but feel relieved. Sure things would still be difficult, but the two of you would be able to make eye contact and share smiles again. He just didn’t realize how soon or often.

___

The day after the Orpheum performance you made your way to the Molina’s garage, having arranged to meet up with Julie to study for your upcoming exam. You let yourself in, sending a text to Julie to let her know you were there. You jumped slightly when you looked up from your phone and noticed she wasn’t alone. Standing in the studio fiddling with a bass was Reggie himself.

“Oh my gosh, um, hi,” you said, shocked at the sight of the boy in front of you. “Oh, um, I’m sorry. Do you speak English?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I speak English?” He asked, tilting his head slightly in confusion.

“Oh, well, Julie said you guys were from Sweden so....”

“Ohh, right! Yeah, that’s us, the Swedish hologram band,” he chuckled nervously and you narrowed your eyes suspiciously.

“Wow, you don’t have an accent at all,” you scrutinized and he chewed his lip nervously.  

“Y/N! You’re here! Ready to work on that lab?” Julie called as she stepped into the studio, heading straight to the couch where they usually worked and setting up her materials.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, puzzled by her actions. She didn’t even stop to look at Reggie. “You didn’t tell me your bandmates were coming in from Sweden.”

“What?” She asked, looking up from her materials. When she locked eyes with Reggie her eyes widened. “You can see him?”

“Yes, I can see your bandmate who speaks perfect English and has no accent whatsoever,” you said, raising your brow to indicate your suspicions. “The jig is up, Molina. Spill.”

“Okay,” Julie sighed, “You’d better sit down though.”

The three of them made their way to the couch, sitting in the same arrangement (unbeknownst to you) that you’d been sitting in for weeks now with you sandwiched between the two musicians. From this close up you could see the freckles that dotted Reggie’s cheeks and nose and the different flecks of colors in his blue eyes. Your breath caught in your throat as he smiled lightly at you, your eyes locking.

“Okay, lovebirds, you’ll have time to stare dreamily into each other’s eyes later,” Julie said, and you felt heat immediately rise to your cheeks as you looked down at your lap. “So, this is gonna sound crazy but you have to go with me on this, okay?”

You nodded, turning to look at your friend curiously.

“They’re ghosts,” she said and your eyes widened at the explanation, looking back and forth between Julie and Reggie. “They died twenty-five years ago and somehow I brought them back.”

“This is insane,” you said, trying to keep an open mind but not believing it.

“It’s true,” Reggie said somewhat solemnly and you turned to stare at him in confusion. “Oh, Julie! Show her the article about our deaths!”

Julie nodded, pulling out her phone and pulling up a webpage before handing it to you. The headline read Sunset Curve: A Hollywood Tragedy. The article detailed the tragic death of three-fourths of the band Sunset Curve right before their performance at the Orpheum in 1995. As you scrolled down you found a picture of three boys who were unmistakably Luke, Reggie, and Alex.

“You’re ghosts.” You said quietly, handing Julie her phone back. “If you’re dead how come I can see you?”

“Well, I don’t really know,” Reggie admitted. “Only Julie was able to see us before but some weird stuff happened last night so maybe it has to do with that?”

“Weird stuff?”

“We were able to touch,” Julie explained. “Before then we just passed through each other.”

“Yeah! Our souls were going to be destroyed but then Julie saved us with a magic hug!” Reggie added and your eyebrows shot up.

“Okay you’re gonna have to back up and explain all that,” you laughed and Reggie grinned, immediately launching into a detailed and dramatic retelling of the events of the last few weeks. How they’d come back as ghosts, found out they could still perform with Julie and that their old bandmate had betrayed them. You gasped at all the right places when he told you about meeting Caleb and the curse he put on them. When he explained the significance of their Orpheum performance and how upset he’d been when he thought you wouldn’t see each other again.

You couldn’t quite believe it but, well, a literal ghost was telling it to you so you supposed it came with the territory. You weren’t sure when, but at some point in your conversation Julie had excused herself, leaving you and Reggie to talk alone.

“So, you were sad you wouldn’t see me again?” You asked curiously, trying to fight the heat rising to your cheeks at the implication.

“Devastated!” Reggie exclaimed, before quieting down as he realized the connotations. His cheeks turned red and he had to fight to look you in the eyes as he continued. “I’ve had a crush on you since we performed Bright at your assembly.”

Your eyes widened at the confession and you beamed.

“Really? I’ve had a crush on you for just as long,” you admitted shyly.

“Oh, I know!” Reggie beamed, and you stared at him. “I, uh, may have heard you talking to Julie about me on multiple occasions.”

“That’s so embarrassing,” you groaned, putting your face in your hands to hide from the boy.

“Hey, I thought it was adorable and really sweet,” Reggie reassured you, reaching out to gently pull your hands away from your face.

“Reg, you’re touching me,” you gasped as you looked down at your hands with were still held in his.

You gasped softly again when you looked back up and found his eyes studying you thoughtfully. There was something in his eyes that you could only describe as intense as you stared at one another, faces subconsciously moving closer together until their noses were nearly touching.

“Does that mean I can kiss you?” Reggie asked softly, squeezing your hands lightly and eyes flicking to your lips before returning to your own.

“I’d like to find out,” you whispered back.

As soon as the words were fully out of your mouth Reggie surged forward, connecting your lips. The kiss was soft and sweet, one of your hands slipping from his to reach up and cup his cheek. It was over all too soon but it was worth it to see the smile that broke out across his face. His hand came up to cover yours that was still resting on his cheek, his thumb softly stroking the back of your hand.

“That was nice,” you breathed and he nodded in agreement.

“Wanna do it again?” He asked brightly and you laughed, reconnecting your lips.

“Woah! Hey!” Julie exclaimed as she walked back into the garage. “I left so you’d have privacy to get to know each other, not get to know each other’s mouths!”

The two of you jumped apart, your face heating up in embarrassment once again. You chanced a glance at Reggie and found his face red with embarrassment but the ghost boy was grinning cheekily at Julie. She rolled her eyes at the boy before shooing him away.

“We have an exam to study for!” She reasoned as she pulled him from the couch, attempting to push him through the garage door.

She’d nearly managed it when Reggie poofed from her grasp and back to his place on the couch, leaning over to give you a quick peck on your cheek. He called out a goodbye as he ran from the garage, not wanting to face the wrath of Julie and you laughed, waving at him until Julie closed the door, blocking him from your view.

___

JATP Taglist: @meangirlsx

[unfunny-quips]

Shouta had been sized up before. 

Many times during his life, in fact. As a student, as a hero, as a teacher. He’d always met the assessments with the same steady, unflinching gaze of his own. He knew his capabilities, and no amount of side eye or stare down would make him think twice.

That did not mean he was in any way prepared for Midoriya Inko. 

Nezdu’s assistant - soft spoken, unassuming, and sweet - had a way of making her scrutinizing gaze seem gentle as it swept over him. Her sharp eyes taking in every detail, weighing and measuring every fact she gathered. She always had a bright smile and a kind word, a gentle hand to guide when needed. And yet, somehow, she was one of the very, very few people Shouta had ever met that made him nervous.

It shouldn’t have been surprising, he supposed. For all the things he had faced down in his career, he had never faced true, unwavering evil the way she had. The green haired woman had been married to the single most dangerous man in Japan - very possibly the world - and had come out of the experience with her heart of gold intact. 

An impressive enough feat on its own merit. That she had managed to pull one over on that villain - gathering up her sons and a damning amount of information and sweeping them away to safety before All For One had even a chance to understand what was happening - that was terrifying. She’d stormed the police, stared down the Symbol of Peace himself, and forced the Hero Commision themselves to give her a deal placing her family in the highest amount of security available. 

Most terrifying of all, she had impressed Nezdu.

The woman was a force of nature and Shouta was smart enough to know he wouldn’t survive the storm if it’s ire was turned on him.

Midoriya herself, dressed disarmingly in a smart grey suit with a teal blouse, finally brought her gaze to meet his and offered him one of her cheerful grins. It was warm and soft, the kind of thing mothers gave he supposed, not that he had a terrible lot of familiarity with that. The gentleness of the smile did not make him forget the steel of her spine or how she could make that smile turn predatory when the need arose.

“Aizawa-San, it’s lovely to see you today!”  She greeted him, standing from her desk - immaculate and clearly organized to the height of perfection - and rounding it to greet him. 

He should have anticipated the crushing hug she’d pulled him into, but as always her unwavering cheerfulness had sent him off balance and she’d pressed her advantage before he could regain his senses. She did it with all the staff, with the exception of All Might and Nezdu. Aizawa suspected All Might’s great height - even in his skeletal form - prevented her from pulling him in for one of her crushing hugs. Nezdu, for his part, was a fellow apex predator and therefore exempt from such treatment.

He wished, not for the first time, that Zashi had come with him. He sometimes was able to hide behind the other man when Midoriya Inko started hugging. Sometimes. 

Then again, she’d sometimes just sweep the both of them up at once, and Zashi took it as an invitation for a group hug, trapping Shouta entirely.

“Midoriya-San.” He awkwardly greeted when she’d released him. She ignored his discomfort, and moved back towards her desk where a stack of papers waited.

“You’re just in time, I just finished compiling the pre-approved applications for the transfers. Oh!” She paused, turning away from her desk and darting through the door just off her office to the small kitchenette hidden there. He blinked after her, feeling bewildered, and watched as she moved to pull two bentos from the fridge. “I noticed your schedule today didn’t allow for lunch.” She told him, shoving one of the bentos into his hands. “So I thought we could enjoy a meal while we reviewed everything.”

He barely managed not to fumble the container as she dropped it in his hands, whisking off to sit at her desk before he could even think of refusing. He blinked after her, then turned to the bento. The fabric it had been tied into was a soft blue and printed with adorable chibi versions of Hizashi in fully hero gear. It was adorable and mildly terrifying to think she had noticed something in Shouta he thought he’d locked down and hidden away years ago.

“You didn’t have to, I have -” Any protest he might have made died the moment he glanced up and saw the sharp look in her eyes. She was still smiling, but there was a certain gleam of warning in her gaze as she looked at him.

“Protein pouches are not an appropriate substitute for a proper meal.” Midoriya said with the kind of finality that left no room for argument. Not that there would be any. Shouta certainly wasn’t going to be fool enough to pick a fight he knew he couldn’t win - more than once, at least. Especially not when she had that soft, warning expression pointed at him.

Instead he clamped his mouth shut and took the seat across from her, dutifully untying the knot in the colorful bento wrapping at her warning glance. Inside he found onigiri made to look like cats tucked in with a variety of protein rich, healthy foods and some apple slices cut to look like bunnies. 

It was adorable. 

How she managed to find time to make him something so elaborate and cute while balancing care for Izuku and Tenko, the running of the school and keeping up with Nezu while also being constantly vigilant for her villainous estranged husband was beyond him.

“Now there were a number of transfer requests made to get into 1-A” Midoriya began, glancing over the documents on her computer after she had ensured that Shouta was indeed eating the food she’d given him. “About two hundred total. Most of them were sifted out due to grades and overall performance which brought it down to sixty-two. From there we accounted for teacher evaluation to whittle it down to a more reasonable seventeen.”

She pulled up a list, tilting her screen to better show him the names and pictures of seventeen promising first years. Hitoshi, as expected, had made it through the initial two stages of the transfer process. Just two more stages to go.

“Interviews have been scheduled to speak to their classmates, friends and family. Nezdu suspects will have only seven or eight remaining afterward those have been conducted.” Midoriya explained, casting another warning glance at Shouta to ensure he was still eating the lunch she’d prepared for him. He dutifully began digging into a Tsukune. Satisfied, Inko unwrapped her own bento and allowed Shouta to review the short bios of the students as she ate her own lunch.

Each student he reviewed gave the impression of a serious hero course candidate. A class full of good students who hadn’t made the cut initially due to a system biased against their quirks. Nezdu expected nearly ten of them wouldn’t make the interview process, and Shouta didn’t doubt the principal’s estimate, he was rarely wrong about such things. Usually there were only three or four remaining after the interviews, it was an unusually adept group that year it seemed.

After the interviews would be the practicals, followed by the faculty review of those remaining. Despite his personal interest, Nezdu had permitted him to remain on the faculty board to judge the students, confident in Shouta’s ability to remain objective. 

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Midorya said, breaking him from his thoughts. He watched as she set her lunch to the side and turned her attention to one of her desk drawers. “Izuku gave this to me to pass along to you. He was worried he wouldn’t have the chance otherwise with midterms coming up.” A plain file folder was held out to him, innocent looking.

Shouta squinted at it suspiciously. “He could have brought it in during my office hours.” He said, reaching for it anyway. He’d started calling Midoriya Izuku Problem Child in the first couple days of class, but in no way was the boy actually a troublemaker. Only over eager and overpowered with no sense of self protection. He was a good student, though, and a good kid from everything he’d seen and everything Hitoshi had told him. Not one he’d expect to use a go between for passing notes on to his teachers.

Midoirya Inko gave one of those knowing smiles that put Shouta’s hair on end. “I think he wanted to avoid taking any of your time that could go to other students for something that isn’t related to his own school work.”

Shouta blinked at that, then flipped the folder open and blinked again.

“Are these -?”

“Recommendation letters, yes.” Midoriya said, smile growing bright at Shouta’s bewildered expression. “Hitoshi-kun mentioned they’d help him during his application for the hero course so Izuku got some put together for him. I wrote one of my own, and All Might was similarly happy to make a recommendation based on what he’s seen of Hitoshi’s excellent character.”

[unkownknowledge]

OC: CHAOS GOD OF THE VOID, GIOTA

story I'm still working on your requests don't worry, I just wanted to make a few character sheets since I'm not focused enough rn. I'll finish it when I take my meds though I promise.

And this isn't an oc for any show, rather a character from a multiversal mythos I'm making

also, an important term to understand this: 1 god year=5 billion years

_____________________

Description:

Giota is a very hot and cool Giota stop changing the text! Atleast change your style of writing so the reader can undead immediately Aw but wheres the fun GIOTA

Fine mister fun police, I'll write like this then. And I'll be cooler than you

Young man I wil... forget it, back on track:

Giota is a shapeshifting god of chaos, void, technological progress, freedom, and being a dramatic bitch.

Hey! I'm not a bitch!....maybe a little

When appearing before mortals he'll often take on the form the viewer imagines when they think of a god of chaos would appear as. Often times when the user knows the basic descriptions of Giota from the 'book of tales' will see him as a angel like statue of bones with numerous cracks, no face, and organ pipe wings.

When meeting with gods outside his domain or when he must meet mortals in a set form, he will take on simple, 10ft tall humanoid form with bone skin, a cracked mouth that cracks more when he speaks, two different colored eyes, and longer than floor length black hair. One of his eyes will be crying water that burns upwards, while the other cries fire that flows downwards. In this form he wears a black trenchcoat, green turtleneck, and purple dad pants.

What the fuck are dad pants?

You know, those usually brown pants that are kinda jeans but soft and actually comfortable.

YOU BITCH MY HUSBAND LIKES JEANS AND HIS PANTS ARE SOFT!

YOUR HUSBAND HAS MARSHMALLOW THIGHS! LITERALLY! OF COURSE HIS PANTS ARE SOFT!

Inside his own domain, or if he's feeling especially done with whatever poor bastard made him upset, Giota takes the form of an innocent ten year old child with soft white steel skin, mile long black hair made of silk, and black eyes made of diamonds. In this form he wears pajamas for to big for him, his mouth leads to a dark void, and he carries around two plushies: a bunny made of roses from his mom, and a plush of his adult form from his husband. Of course he becomes an adult if they do anything adult, so please don't start.

Regardless of his form, even when it's based on the perspective of others, he always wears a large knitted infinity scarf his husband made for whenever he wanted to hide away.

_____________________

Powers:

Cool ones

I mean, he's not wrong...

(I should make an ice themed character)

Giota, as a god, has numerous powers related to his domains.

powers of freedom:

inspiring presence- while most gods or beings of power inspire mortals and lesser beings of power to kneel down or bow, Giota’s presence inspires all beings to rise up, to do anything, to do whatever they want, to become the best they can be. this can be used to inspire allies to carry on. However Giota can also let this power run rampant, and free the mind of any shackles, and while this sounds good it really just means removing all morals and causing mass violence, and if he lets it run rampant while in the same dimension he lets it then all life will mutate into eldritch monstrosities of decadence and selfishness. According to him this is to show that balance must be kept between chaos and law.

the torch of liberty- among Giota’s duties as a god of freedom is to liberate the populations of ‘doomed realms’ that have been enslaved. essentially, if a planet in a universe is ruled purely by either law or chaos then the entire universe can be effected, in the case of law it can result in the entire universe becoming one collective conscious. while it’s not common that enslaved worlds occur, however when they do they are the most dangerous of law worlds. to combat worlds like this gods of freedom are given torches that free the minds of the enslaved and bring down holy fire upon the enslavers in the form of the collective will of all the freed people.

powers of technological progress:

cybernetic god-many god-years ago Giota was severely wounded by a rogue god of flesh and a rogue god of metal, to the point even he could not regenerate it. to stop him from dying a cult of his granted Giota cybernetic enhancements. these enhancements integrated into Giota’s flesh as it regenerated and became enhanced in turn by Giota’s divinity, and Giota’s divine power was enhanced then by the cybernetics, resulting in a self sustaining growth in power. while he gladly used this to stop the rogue gods, and once again to destroy an old one, he feels being that powerful would upset the balance of power, so he sealed it in a time lock in time with the seasons and time of day in the void. his power increases from mid day to mid night, and from the end of summer to the end of winter. in the minute of exactly midnight at the end of winter, Giota becomes, in both this multiverse and the old, the most powerful being to exist.

self evolving knowledge- because his position as a god of technology is artificial his powers in it are very weak, being able to only grant full sentience and sapience to machines. he can also create minor miracles of technology, such as summoning a clockwork toy(which he does often)

hey man did you really have to bring up the whole getting my ass kicked thing?

yes, now shut up before I bring up what you sing in the shower

....fucker....

powers of being dramatic:

yeah that wasn't a joke. Giota is the god of being over the top, stylish, and over all flair. in other words, being dramatic

personal sound track- he can cause any song he wants to play when he does anything.

lights, camera, ACTION!- whenever he wants, Giota can cause a bright, sparkling light to emit from his body or behind himself.

my favorite is that one bad bitch’s theme. what’s her name again?

Ragyo Kiyurin?

that's the fucker! terrible taste in morals, but damn does she know how to enter a room.

...can I put sigh when it’s supposed to be me sighing?

powers of the god of chaos

Chaotic existence- for Giota to even exist is, in and of itself, a paradox. he comes from a timeline that never existed, that was on a set path, yet he exist, and he changed the course of the timeline. when he became a chaos god he became a paradox within a paradox, he existed yet did not. to attempt to change any aspect of his being, to take in any part of his being, is to know that which is not there to know, to understand that which is not there, you have to be able to comprehend the very essence of nonexistence to even bare a hair of his getting in your mouth. such a thing easily drives all things that try insane, to the point that every part of their conscience believes that it does not exist.

overwhelming power-chaos gods are only once a multiverse, and with the title comes pure power. such power could turn an infant into an indestructible warrior, however since Giota was already at that level on a mortal scale, and already capable of taking on powerful gods, this power sets him among the highest echelons of divine might.

powers of the god of void

key to nonexistence- the god of the void is the only being who can open the bridge between that which exist and that which does not

rapid regeneration- the void god has an innate ability to regenerate from nearly all damage, even if they are ground to a fine paste. this regeneration is enhanced by the cybernetic enhancements.

speed of darkness- the void god has an innate speed that surpasses light, Giota’s already superhuman speed was enhanced by this.

spear of not- the void god is the sole being in existence and non existence who can wield the spear of not, a finely forged weapon. it is not special beyond being enchanted to withstand godly power and a ‘security lock’ enchantment, however it is still a very well made weapon.

blah blah blah, enough about what I was handed, tell them about my mortal abilities

as Giota just said, and as I’ve brought up before, Giota is extremely powerful even without his powers, he also used to be two other mortals that were less powerful. but over all these were his powers, which he still has.

leather skin- while it might appear or feel like something else, Giota’s skin is exactly like leather armor. this comes from how he was raised as a child to be a powerful warrior and his skin was tanned into hide and treated while it was still on him.

adamantine bone- Giota’s bones were also replaced by an adamantine skeleton when he was a child.

super sonic speeds- during his training as a child, he was taught to be able to surpass the sound barrier on foot.

superhuman strength- his training also trained his body to carry ten tons, however as a mortal he improved that strength to the point he could exert enough force to blast away entire cities by blinking. This power did not come easy.

flight- after training with some monks late in his life, Giota was able to walk on the air, essentially he could fly at the same speed as he could run.

agility- he was trained as a warrior and assassin, so Giota’s training included advanced maneuverability training, including wall running, sneaking across tripwires, etc.

weapon master- Giota is a master in all weapons and various forms of martial arts.

he also has reciev- hey man you good?

I-I’m fine! d-don’t write that I’m crying! 

you...wanna talk about it?

…no...

is it about your mom?

…maybe...

alright take your time.

anyway Giota has a very useful piece of equipment, the cloak of maternity- despite it’s name, it’s actual a cloak that leads to a pocket dimension where Giota carries his weapons and toys. It is called the cloak of maternity because his adoptive mother gave him after he became a god-bounty hunter, she even designed it to help him hide away from people. it even has a designated snack pocket.

_____________________

BIO:

Giota was found by his adoptive mother after he destroyed his timeline, as punishment, or perhaps in an attempt to redeem him, she turned him back into a baby. something Giota happily accepted.

After this his life went on as a mortal’s would, only in the realm of divinity: he went to school, went into college, graduated, then entered the workforce. granted the workforce he entered was bounty hunting divine criminals. it was easy for him to get into, after all everything from his past life transferred over to this one, it wasn't long before he was hunting even the deadliest of criminals. while his mom was very supportive, it was still difficult for him to keep in contact with her as he did before moving out, and being a bounty hunter was hardly a sociable job. it wasn't long before Giota fell into depression, and then to drugs. for twenty three god years his life was an endless cycle of contract killing, payment, and wallowing in chemical joy. But at the end of all blinding lights, there is a welcoming darkness.

Giota had become the personal bounty hunter of the god of law and time: Ceerus. one day while leaving after receiving a contract, he met the god’s child, a boy his age named Dyalta.

It was thanks to Dyalta that Giota ever kicked drugs, or got out of depression, and thanks to Dyalta Giota managed to find happiness in anything other than a syringe.

Even the reason he found love.

rise to godhood

Giota became a god after an old god, named the Red slaughter, destroyed the entire universe. this was a catalyst for Giota, who had died previously, to return with his newly awakened god powers. I don't want to go into to much detail in this aspect as I intend to write it at some point.

_____________________

hey man you good yet? 

a little bit. Dyalta came by and gave me some cookies.

that's good buddy, I’m gonna describe your personality ok?

alright.. I’m gonna go home now.

alright man, take care.

_____________________

personality

do note that this is a bit hard for me to do. I’m more used to just writing a character. I’ll just post two short stories here to try and get his personality across. I made them in school last year.

ok so after looking at it the second one is twelve pages long. so I’m gonna post that elsewhere on here. to give context: this is after a wedding between Dyalta and Giota was interrupted. if you’d like to see more about him then feel free to interact or request him.

elavator story

Giota shifted uncomfortably to make room for his soon to be father in law as the man stepped into the lift.

“Soooooo…” Giota pressed their floor “wonderful, um, siege we’re having.”

Ceerus just keeps his eyes on the door “sure.”

“So how's the uh, wife?”

Ceerus sighed “locked in a tower, that we are invading.”

“Mhm, yup.”

‘Maybe I should try calling him dad.’

“So what did you think of my swordsmanship d-dad.”

Ceerus visibly restrained himself “it was fine ten- Giota.”

The elevator stopped, probably because of security.

“Oh maker damnit,” Ceerus tries rewinding the shut off, but it doesn't work “and it’s godproofed!”

“This reminds of this one time me and Dyalta wen-”

Ceerus put his hand to Giota’s mouth “if you end this story in anything less than fully clothed I will end your fake hide.”

Giota scratches his head nervously “Well I didn't, but Dyalta lost his shirt and well,” Giota notice Ceerus drawing his blade “b-but it was for a sword fi- wait bad wording, it was for a-you know- assasination thing!”

Ceerus sighed and sheathed his sword “look, you dusting mongrel, I don’t like you, you pretend to like me, let’s just try and not kill each other and maybe by the end of this, I won’t flay your ass at the altar.”

Well atleast now they both agreed on something: this was going to be a long crusade.

________________________________________________________________

ok that's that! not a very good character sheet but hopefully it got enough across to be interesting. I’ll end this off with some quotes I want him to say but have never gotten the chance to write out:

“hey Ceerus how’s the kid? oh thats right! in my bed, waiting patiently.” following Ceerus being exceptionally annoying.

“you know something? I try to be nice, I always smile, always banter with my targets. you know, try and be friendly. but then some RED MOTHERFUCKER, POSSESSES MY HUSBAND, WAKING ME UP FROM ETERNAL SLUMBER, AND NOW I ONCE AGAIN HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE GOD’S MESSES!”

*crying into Dyalta* “and then he said my clothes were stupid,” *sobbing* “I tried really hard on these!”

“this multiverse, to us gods, is wet paper mache. so easy to break, one wrong move and POP,” Giota flexes his finger and causes an ocean to split open for a solid ten seconds, “the very fabric of reality is gone. and you. you insuferable MOTHER FUCKERS have the AUDACITY TO COME IN HERE, AND TEAR IT ALL TO SHREDS! well assholes, if this reality is paper mache to you, and I’m stronger than you, take a wild gues as to what you are to me.”

(tagging: @storytravelled, @3lectro-heart, @genshin-obsessed)

[myhockeyworld87]

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 16

Word Count: 3,431

POV: Sidney’s

Warning: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes: Sorry this is late guys, but here’s who was listening at the door hearing what the new drafties were discussing. As always feedback is greatly appreciated. Hope everyone is doing well and loving that hockey is finally back. Happy Reading!

Not So Dangerous Liaison Masterlist

As much as you understood that (Y/N) had to go play tour guide to the new recruits; you absolutely hated it. You'd grown so accustomed to your days together. The two of you fell into a nice routine, waking up in the morning and usually having some form of sex before doing an actual workout. Though some mornings that was foregone for another round in bed, which you totally preferred. Then it was making breakfast together, followed by each of you doing some work. (Y/N) took the living room as her makeshift office, as she said working in the same room together would lead to neither one of you getting work done. Which she was more than likely right, as you found yourself sneaking out sometimes and just nibbling on her neck from the back of the couch.

 You conned her into letting you go with her when she checked on the progress of the team house she was in charge of, telling her that you wanted to see where they were at with it; when in reality you really didn't need all those construction workers ogling over her.  Their eyes would linger the moment she walked in, and you'd place a very possessive hand on her back or waist and suddenly those eyes were back on the drywall in front of them. She was doing an amazing job with the place, which Mario told her one night when the two of you joined him and Nathalie for dinner.

 All in all, the two of you were inseparable that week and a half. So her even leaving for a few hours was not something that sat well with you, but you got it and kissed her goodbye telling her you'd see her soon. It was about an hour later that you decided it wouldn't hurt to meet the new guys. It was just an introduction from the captain, didn't all teams do that. Well, you'd actually already called and congratulated them when they were drafted, but real-life welcomes were always best. At least that's what you told yourself when you pulled into the arena.

 She was out taking them on a tour of the town, so you wander down the halls only to find Mario in his office. You knocked on the open door, before walking in. "Hey boss, didn't expect to see you there?"

 "Though somehow I did expect you," he chirped back with a cheeky smile.

 You couldn't help the blush that rose up to your cheeks. "Well, you know…"

 "Yeah, Sid I do. I remember it all too well." He stared off and you could tell her was thinking of his wife. "You have that same look as I did way back then you know?"

 He didn't have to say what it was. You were fairly certain, you were falling in love with (Y/N), though you've yet to admit it to her or yourself. Call it fear of rejection or something else, you just knew that if you threw the L word out there and she didn't say it back, you'd be crushed. You just needed to give it a little more time. She'd already gotten scared about the fact she was dating you; you didn't need her to go running if you told her you loved her. "Yeah I know," you admitted to Mario. "Just trying to give it time."

 "And you're doing this by showing up, while she's working?"

 "Well when you put it like that," you grabbed the back of your neck, rethinking your decision to come down here.

 "Relax Sid, I'm sure she'll be happy to see you. Plus the new kids will flip out." Which was your excuse for coming down. "While I have you down here, come check out this new skate blade sharpener Dana got in."

 "You know how I am about my blades. I kind of love the old machine." It was well known in the league that if you had a problem with your blades, one of the equipment guys would run down and sharpen it instead of just putting on new blades on like everyone else did. You were kind of particular about those things.

 "Just give it a look. (Y/N) just text and said she's out on the ice with the boys and will be in the locker room shortly, so after you check this out we can drop in and say hi. Then take your girl home, like I know you want to." You liked that he called her 'your girl.' It was the first time in your life that you wanted the whole world to know how you felt about someone.

 "Fine." The two of you headed to the equipment room which was adjacent to the locker room. Dana was in there and the three of you talked about the new sharpener until you heard voices next door. You listened intently as you heard her explain the unique design of the room, a hint of awe in her voice and you remembered walking in there for the first time and all the feelings you had. You could just see these eager young players being introduced to their first NHL locker room. Their eyes were probably wide taking every little detail in. You and Mario continued to listen to the conversation, holding back a bit before you walked in to say hello. (Y/N) left, explaining she had a phone call to take and you were just about to go in, thinking that she'd be surprised when she came back when Mario held you back. What you heard next had your fists clenching at your sides.

 The things these boys were saying. Well, correction it seemed to be one kid, and you wanted to punch his face into the wall. Mario stopped you though, whispering low. "Follow my lead." The two of you moved into the room. "Gentlemen, it's good to have you here in Pittsburgh." All five heads turned at the sound of Mario's voice and in unison, they all looked over, an awestruck look on their faces. "I hope you're finding your stay here pleasant?"

 "Umm…ye…yeah," stuttered out one of the kids, Ryan Jones you thought. You hadn't been paying too much attention when (Y/N) was going over all their bios the night before as you'd been too busy working on getting her out of her clothes. But you were sure you wouldn't forget their faces today.

 "Good, good." Mario continued not really introducing or shaking hands with any of the men. "So I trust (Y/N)'s been good to you?" You found yourself questioning the choice of words your mentor was using, but still trusted him in where he was going. The boys for their part blushed, though one sort of smirked and you figured you'd just found your culprit. You were ready to drag his skinny little body out of the locker room and beat him to a pulp.

 Finally, the kid with the shit ass eating grin answered. "Oh yeah, she's real good." His emphasis on the last part wasn't lost on either you or Mario.

 "Connor isn't it?" Mario asked the young pup and he nodded his head furiously. "Ms. (Y/L/N) is very beautiful, isn't she?" The kid actually had the gull to snicker, and you could feel your nails biting into your skin as you fisted them at your sides. "Anyone would be lucky to be with her, don't you think?" Ok, this may be going a little too far. If Mario started saying stuff about sleeping with her, you were going to lose you god blessed mind.

 "Well, yeah," the boy, Connor agreed, while the others kept silent, still ashamed to be caught gossiping about (Y/N). A muscle in your jaw ticked, itching to take young Connor out and beat some sense into him about how women should be treated.

 "I know her boyfriend feels the same way," Mario stated matter of factly. Eyes went wide as Mario insinuated that (Y/N) dated someone, yet still Connor seemed unmoved. "In fact," Mario continued. "He gets super jealous. Has been known to even drop the gloves from time to time. You can imagine how he'd feel if he knew what you insinuated about her." The boys exchanged glances with each other trying to figure out what player (Y/N) was dating. Realization finally dawned on the one, Bjorkqvist, and you made a mental note to remember that at least of them had some smarts. It would help him out on the ice in the future. The kid took a step back as he glanced first at your face and then at your fists; another smart move. "So you see boys, we're family here and family doesn't take kindly when someone messes with us and those we love." Mario gave them a few minutes to let the gravity of his words sink in. You looked back at Connor, even though every time you did, you wanted to punch him in the face. He finally started to become uncomfortable; good. "I'm only going to ask this question, one time, though I'm pretty sure I know the answer. Which one of you called Ms. (Y/L/N) the team whore?"  You flinched when Mario said the word 'whore,' as thoughts of that bastard Christian came floating back to you. That night at least you had the satisfaction of slamming the man up against the wall. Today you could tell Mario wanted you to take the high road; you weren't sure if you could honor his request or not.

 Seconds ticked by as you waited for the guys to give up Connor, for you knew the boy wasn't going to admit to it himself. Bjorkqvist, the same one that figured out you were (Y/N)'s significant other finally broke the odd silence. "I told him he shouldn't speak about her like that."

 "Finally, I see one of you has some sense." Mario addressed the young winger. "Now if you could be a little more specific on who it was exactly, and let me reassure you that by you telling me who it was will not affect your status with the organization, but not saying anything might."

 There was a chorus of 'it was him' or 'he did,' along with fingers all directed at Connor. You took a step forward only to be stopped short, as (Y/N) walked into the room.

 "Sorry about that. Sid…what are you…is everything ok?" You tried to relax but it was obvious that something had transpired while she was gone. Her head flipped back between you and the group of young prospects.

 "Everything's fine," Mario finally spoke up. "I was just going to show these guys how we have the state-of-the-art equipment here. Right gentlemen?" They all nodded, even Connor. "So why don't you follow me and we'll leave these two lovebirds alone for a minute." A couple of the guys did a double-take as they finally realized that you were in fact (Y/N)'s boyfriend while Connor suddenly turned pale. "We'll be back in a bit."

 As soon as they headed off to the equipment room, (Y/N) was standing in front of you, and you reached out to pull her close, needing to feel her close to you. She pulled back though remained in your embrace. "What just happened here?" You didn't answer, just dipped your head down to capture her lips. Your lips were hard on hers, demanding that she give herself over as you tried to release some of the tension, you'd been holding back for the last several minutes. She yielded but not for long, pushing back from you when you chased her lips. "Sid, talk to me."

 You contemplated telling her everything but didn't want to go there. She didn't need to be subjected to the asshole's words and you shook your head deciding not to talk about it. Her hands that were resting on your shoulders started to knead the muscles there. "I can feel the tension in your body. Will you please talk to me?"

 "It's nothing babe. Just caught one of your young recruits disrespecting the organization." It wasn't a total lie, but it wasn't the truth either.

 "Let me guess, it was Connor?" Again, you nodded not wanting to speak the words and so you closed your eyes. "There was something I found off about him. Hey, look at me?" She cupped your cheeks, turning your face so that you were nose to nose. "Don't let him get to you. I'm sure Mario's handling it." You definitely needed to make sure that Mario was or else you were going to have to yourself.

 "Yeah, I know you're right."

 "Well, I have to finish up here with these guys once Mario's done. How about I meet you at that restaurant we love, in about an hour and we can have dinner?"

 There was no way in hell you were leaving her alone with these guys. "I was thinking I'll just stay here while you finish up and then we can go together."

 "But I have my car here. I can just meet you at your place and we can go to the restaurant from there. No use staying here if you don't have to."

 "I don't mind staying," and before she could protest again, you added. "I want to, and we'll figure out the car thing later."

 She gave you a funny look but said. "Ok," before pecking you on the lips and pulling away. "I'm gonna go see how things are going with Mario."

 "I'm sure he's got them." You didn't need her walking in on Mario giving them a verbal thrashing that's for sure. "They'll probably be back any moment. So, what did you want to do besides go to dinner tonight?"

 "I figured we'd kind of do what we always do? Stay at your place, watch a little tv and well…you know."

 "Mmm, I like the last part." You grabbed at her waist and though she tried to avoid you; you were quicker, pulling her back close to you. "Though I still owe you a proper date."

 "We go out for dinner all the time."

 "Not that often, but I'd like to show you off a little more." You leaned down and nibbled a bit on her neck, but you heard someone clear their throats and the two of you broke apart. It was Dana and he was bringing the guys back, all but Connor.

 "Sorry to interrupt, but Mario thought you could finish the tour."

 (Y/N) adjusted herself before speaking. "Of course, um…where's Connor?"

 "He had to leave," Dana said and you didn't miss the subtle nod he gave you.

 "Oh well, that's too bad. We still have a little bit of time left before your families arrive. Let's check the rest of the building out. Sid, are you joining us?"

 "Absolutely." You trailed along, after her and the recruits making some comments here and there but also wondering where the little bastard was that had called her such horrible things. It wasn't until the end of the tour that you snuck off to Mario's office while (Y/N) handed the prospects back to their guardians. You closed the door behind you as soon as you went inside. "Where is he?"

 "He's gone and before you say anything; he was told we won't be giving him an offer. So, he won't be back." It was a start but you still wanted to hit him, get some satisfaction from feeling your fist connect with his face.

 Still, you found yourself saying, "Good."

 "I'm assuming you didn't say anything to her?"

 "No, I didn't. I felt it best if she didn't know." He thought about it for a second and then nodded.

 "Good, good. Family takes care of each other, now let's put the whole thing behind us."

 "I'm not sure that's possible."

 "It is. Go home Sid, enjoy your girlfriend. Take her to the lake and don't give this incident a second thought." It would be hard, but you thought you could do it.

 "Thanks, Mario."

 "Don't mention it. Have a great summer. I'm sure we'll keep in touch."

 "Yeah, we will and you too." You headed out of his office and went to find (Y/N). Who happened to be in hers at the moment. "Hey babe, you all done."

 "Almost, just finishing some of this paperwork on the house." You walked up behind her, gathering her hair and pulling it to her left side so that you could trail kisses down the right. "That's very distracting but very welcomed."

 "I missed having you around all day."

 She tilted her head to the side and dropped her pen as you hit that sweet spot she so loved. "I was barely gone a couple hours before you dropped in." Her jacket was draped on the back of the chair and you slid the straps of her bra and silk tank down her shoulder exposing more of her skin. "We should take this home."

 "I locked the door, no one will know." You whispered moving her hair over to the other side, so you slide the cami off there as well. Her breath hitched and you knew that you had her intrigued then. "Especially if you're quiet." You spun her chair around and then kissed her lips. She melted into you and you could feel the tension of the day leave your body.

 "We've tried quiet before." She exhaled out once you broke apart for air. "It didn't work so good for either of us."

 You lifted her to her feet, shoving the chair out of the way. "Then maybe we'll settle for fast as well." Straps now completely off, her breasts were exposed to you and you kneaded them in your hands, rolling her nipples and causing her to moan. "Shh," You shushed her before gathering her pencil skirt and hiking it up to her hips. Sliding your hand between her thighs, you could feel her damp panties. "Guess you're not as opposed to this idea as you said." Your fingers danced between her folds, while the other hand pushed her panties down to her knees.

 (Y/N) tore at the placket of your shorts, making quick work of the button and zipper before grasping your cock in her hand. She pumped you a few times before you hit her g-spot with your index finger and her rhythm faltered. "Fuck Sid, stop teasing me." She breathed out, and you slid your fingers out of her, grabbing at your shorts to rifle through the pockets to find that little foil packet you stashed away. You turned her, bending her forward to lean on the desk before rolling the latex over your member. Her legs spread a little further apart, as you lined your cock up with her entrance. Gathering her hair, you bent low to drop kissed on her neck and back as you slid inside her. She clamped a hand over her mouth to suppress a moan, while you had to bite your lip at being sheathed inside her. Your hand skimmed down her side, lightly caressing her breast before you took hold of her hips and start to pump in and out of her.

 A moan left her mouth and she fell to her elbows on the desk, pushing papers and pens out of the way. "You feel so fucking good," you harshly whispered as you picked up the pace. You knew your grip on hers had to be biting her flesh, yet she only breathed out that she wanted more. One hand released her, making it's way to her clit so that you could toy with it. She whimpered in an effort to not moan out loud and the sound almost threw you over the edge. Your finger worked furiously on her little nub and you could feel her pussy start to twitch. "Yes, baby…Let go…Cum for me." She did, stifling a cry that would've filled the room. As her pussy spasmed around you, you joined her, with a few short thrusts. She collapsed on top of the desk, as you fell forward on top of her, peppering her with kisses. "Damn (Y/N), that was amazing." It wasn't lost on you as you tried to catch your breath, that you literally just had sex in (Y/N)'s office after defending her honor, but this was different; it was special because you loved her. You loved (Y/N), with every fiber of your being you loved her. Now you just had to find the courage to tell her.

[cloveroctobers]

ANNA-JULIA “AJ” (JONES) JARLETT

IG bio/info: @/annajj9x_ | 20.1k followers| Athlete | hey peeps can you stop asking me to throw it back cuz the answer will always be no! K thx take it easy 🏳️‍🌈🌻🏒🐶

21 years old

From bath, England

Hockey player as her profession for the past three years

Her position is defense

Their team name is “rowdy alphas”...yeah some team names just didn’t make sense or they’re cringe for no reason at all

Was raised by her mom,(her mom was a teen mom & had her at 17) maternal grandmother, and her paternal aunt (dad’s younger sister, who’s more like a big sister to her at 28)

They’ve made her into the person she is, literally

Her grandmother has a bed and breakfast that they all live in

the house is Victorian style—almost as if they walked right out of charmed! Instead of a big pink house, think yellow AND purple. It was hideous but homey and charming on the inside

growing up in a house with multiple temporary strangers wasn’t odd to aj at all, in fact it felt like the norm. There was always someone around to socialize with so that was quite nice

Her father was a pro baseball player & passed away due to a automobile accident

she has his smile & freckles

aj was also involved in the accident at the age of 6 & miraculously survived with intense injuries

Has scars as a reminder

used to have night terrors because of the accident...it took awhile—years!!! for them to subside

they’re all vague memories now (but the pain is something she’ll always remember) but she preferred it that way

she’s named “Anna” after her mother’s old best friend/roommate and was supposed to be aj’s god mother but she went missing during their uni years

the name“Julia” came from her paternal grandmother who she gets her wide doe eyes from

her athleticism definitely came from her dad

Her mother luckily liked to document things so there’s a bunch of home videos of her dad in them & pictures/scrapbooks that her mom has for safe keeping

She’s more of a klutz, tiny, and wears huge prescription glasses

extremely close to the three most important ladies in her life, so she’s always been able to be open with them about anything!

when she first expressed her interest in liking both genders around 17-18 her paternal aunt was all smirks, “i knew Britney Spears was so your type, yeah?”

more like shakira but Brit was just as pretty

her mother was a “cry baby” so ofc she burst out into tears squeezing aj’s limbs and peppering her face with kisses. She didn’t view her child as anything different... as she shouldn’t & was glad that her daughter trusted them with this significant moment in her life and wanted to be as supportive as she could

got books, watched Ted talks and everything but knew she could come to the source even tho aj was still figuring it out herself

her grandma dipped her head at the new info sitting at the round kitchen table, “been there. had a few broads in my life after and during my marriage with your no good grandad. Thank goodness the bastard died before you even got to meet ‘em.” “Mum!”

what felt like the biggest weight on her chest was lifted. She knew they’d understand but a part of her had a little bit of doubt, she’s heard so many horror stories where those like her didn’t have the support she has and that made her extremely sad to think about

i see her as a person that has/had many friends in secondary. She’s always open to chat and her being on a few sports teams helped her out in her case

very competitive in anything that she does & will guarantee that she’ll beat you. (“ You wanna race to the car from here?”wins. “Who ever cleans the most dishes the fastest gets the last slice of pie.”) majority of the time she’s right but if she loses?? oh don’t let her lose to you, it’s a pity party for the rest of the time ur in her space. Such a sore loser omg

stays active, always working out + has a gym membership and makes sure she goes at least five times a week

she’s very strong, loves leg day & working on her core

she’s about 5’10

loves wearing “gf jeans” since they’re super comfy but doesn’t mind skinny Jeans with rips in the knees every now and then

trainers and chucks are her go-to sneakers

has no issue shopping in the men’s section ‘cause who’s gonna stop her? Nobody that’s who

owner of over a 100 graphic tees + vertical stripped shirts are also her favs, SWEATPANTS/joggers?! How many does she have? A lot. Snapbacks? Plenty. Will she wear them backwards? Obviously.

Physical touch is her love language. She’s comes from a family that has no issue showing their affection by touch. There is NO such thing as personal space and that still stands with aj when it comes to relationships, she sees no other way

It’s what she shows and what she wants in return, if you’re not touching her in some sort of way, then automatically she thinks there’s something wrong or that she did something

Is the jealous type. It has shown in relationships and ruined a relationship or two

Has cheated on a significant other out of pure jealousy & is not proud to admit that

Does have a wandering eye but feels now that she truly understands herself when it comes to relationships, she’ll never act on it again

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, I get libra tendencies from her so that’s what I’m sticking with. She likes to keep the peace (unless she’s jealous) , idealistic — always looking on the bright side of things, outgoing, romantic, and professional— especially when it comes to her team; her true leadership comes out, yet she can be indecisive, hates confrontation, self pitying — if things don’t go perfectly how she imagined/planned it to, the world is ending and everyone is out to get her, and can be unreliable—never on time

September libra to be exact

if she’s really in love/taken a interest in you then she gets nervous: blushing, sweaty palms, cracking her knuckles, tongue tied—the whole 9

she’s already defined as a puppy by her coach but when she’s in love? She’s a lovesick puppy!

her fav holiday is Valentine’s Day

thought she was going to be a pro skateboarder growing up but it took one bad fall where she thought she was paralyzed for her to choose something else

she likes her weed on occasion

Obsessed with all types of cheese except cottage, “can I put cheese on this?”

more of a jumpsuit kinda girl or dressy top with jeans & hoops on a night out

has a solid group of mates outside of the hockey team, they’ve all met and hung out a couple of times, as they should since aj feels they’re going to be stuck with her for awhile so why not?

They’re a riot when they all go out, let’s just say that there’s never a dull moment

fav color is periwinkle

enjoys ASMR, mostly in the mornings when she’s waking up. You know how people love podcasts? (Sorry seb & Nicky, she still wants to be on the show soon!) ASMR is her thing

loves tangerines, you can count on it that she’ll have one on her, “where did you pull that from?” “I’ll never share my master plan.” “You’re such a tit.”

Definitely prefers “fresh squeezed” orange juice & will make her own, she has the tools & the strength 😏

Very rare for her to get sick ;) & if she does she’s a complete baby about it

Will fight that she’s sick before she admits it, trying all sorts of horrid remedies & vitamins

loves summer & all things that come with it, the number one thing is leaving bath for however long she can for a new place to enjoy

when she arrived to love island, she was thrilled for the weather. Yes she was looking for love but most importantly a nice get away & that it was (depending on your route that is lol)

closest with seb, vieve, elladine, and tai but don’t tell the others that! (She doesn’t care if you tell Yasmin, honestly)

just because her & seb “dated” and it didn’t work out doesn’t mean they can’t be friends right? It was almost automatic for them to be platonic after it was determined there would be no romance between them, almost like sibs! like those celebs like to say—except this time these two won’t turn around and actually find romance

vieve came with seb so...but no shade aj did like vieve. She gave great advice (while seb sometimes didn’t say the right things unintentionally or what aj needed to hear) when needed, especially from a medical view and is very sweet

elladine was the one who had all the tea & ideas to match, she’s quite organized and always down for DIY’s and could suggest almost anything. If you needed someone to help you get things tidy or match/find your Aesthetic, she’s the friend you call to help

tai was the one she could be a “bro” with, sure elladine has her competive side (or controlling, depends on how you view it) but tai was the one you can run to for much needed “bro hugs”, partying, going to the pubs, playing sports with or against, checking out/flirting with babes, etc...

it was not long after the villa that aj had a revelation with her sexuality & fully owned and labeled herself as a lesbian

She was happy being in relationship with someone else or with herself, life was short and she was young so there wasn’t time to dwell and stress over things so what the hell?! Live your truth the best way you know how ya know?

probably smells like sweet citrus, almond flower, and sea salt

on chest days, she’s a sweets snacker. Loves gummy bears (also with vodka) , swedish fish, sour patch kids, etc...basically shit that sticks to ur teeth

put all her chips into hockey, while it was advised by her Counselors & mum not to do so, aj went about it anyway. She thought about the pros and cons but knew there was nothing else for her. So there were more pros than cons. She was meant to play sports, its what felt right in her soul

Made her feel connected to her father, when she’s on the field she feels that he is with her

 scrunches up her nose when she’s frustrated or confused about something

Doesn’t always grasp concepts right away, she’s a soft dummy but most of us are and that’s okay! We’re all smart in our own ways

Feels like sunflowers are always around her especially if she sees them wherever she is. They must symbolize SOMETHING, therefore she loves them

spf queen. All about it, get with it or let the sunrays ruin ur skin that’s on u

loves a good filet mignon medium-well & is probably the only good thing she knows how to make alongside a salad, baked potatoes, & her oj

sucker for romantic-comedies...it’s basically her life duh!

If she has a dog, it’s a Dalmatian or Great Dane. She needs a companion that’ll keep up with her

loves kissing, it’s her favorite form of intimacy

Quarantine life included the push up challenge for her. Gaining a few pounds in muscle and fat, bothering seb via ft, viewing old letters she wrote to her dad, spending time with her fav ladies since they were now restricted from having guests in their home, and letting boredom consume her + she hated the whole lockdown that came with it, she hated being indoors for long periods of time but she knew that’s what partly needed to be done

Posts a lot of beach, park, outings with her friends & team, moments with her fav ladies, workout videos, and guests at the b&b with their permission and if only she befriends them along the way. She’s just as active on the socials as she is in rl but she’s not obsessed with it, she knows how to live in the now. She’s all about balance!

I also feel like she never keeps her phone charged and it’s always dying on her! She had a car charger but...that’s a jungle. She needs to invest in a portable charger stat

crushing on/finds attractive: Jared Padalecki, Keanu Reeves, Barrett Doss, Camilla Luddington, Sandra Bullock, Adrian Kempe, Harry Kirton, Anya Taylor-Joy, Haley Lu Richardson, Naomi Osaka, Ming & Aoki Lee Simmons

who does she listen to? Shakira lol!! Bea Miller, Dua Lipa, Daya, XYLØ, Elley Duhé, Stela Cole, Aloe Blacc, Maroon 5, Lewis capaldi, Charlie Puth, girl in red, Hayley kiyoko, king princess, dodie, & tessa violet

Anthem: Icona Pop — we got the world

[caitlesshea]

if you close your eyes

Happy (1 day) early birthday @themoonwhenimlost! I promised a Coffee Shop AU with a happy ending, so the happy ending will be posted on your actual birthday. Sorry not sorry? I love you!

Chapter 1/2

“Will you stop?” 

Joe pauses his attempt at pacing a hole in the floor to glare at Booker.

“You’re just going to keep working yourself into a frenzy.” Booker tsks at him.

“I’m nervous.”

“You’ve done this before.” Booker points out unhelpfully.

And the thing is, is that Joe knows he has. He’s nine hundred and fifty four years old, and he died his first death nine hundred and twenty one years ago, leaving him forever thirty three. 

His first death. Stabbed by a long sword at the hands of one Nicolò di Genova, but not before Joe was able to stab him first. Only, Joe gasped awake and Nicolò stayed dead.

Or so he thought. Thirty years practically to the day he sees Nicolò looking every bit the same, minus the ridiculous chain mail, working in Cairo. 

At first he thought that Nicolò had survived that fateful day, like Joe had, but over time he came to realize that wasn’t the case. This Nicolò was not from Genova, even though his family hailed from there. He was born thirty years earlier. 

Over the years they traveled together, became lovers, and when Nicolò had started to age, Joe told him his secret. 

After his Nicolò passed, it became clear that history was repeating itself. 

Ever since that second meeting, Joe will meet Nicolò one way or another, spend however long they have together in that lifetime, and then thirty years after he inevitably loses Nicolò, he’ll find him again. 

Nicolò isn’t always the same. He’ll have different hair, different styles, even different names. But he always looks at Joe like he’s the sun. 

Joe gets to fall in love with every version of Nicolò he meets. 

Nicolò never remembers Joe or the lifetimes they’ve lived. Something Joe has spent his long life cursing the universe for. 

Now, he’s pacing his apartment floor, thirty years after he last lost Nicolò to old age. He never knows why he gets an inkling to do something or go somewhere a year or two before the thirty years is up, but he always follows his gut and does what his heart tells him. 

This time he knew he needed to be a university professor. Booker ever so kindly forging documents for him and now that he’s been at the university for two years he’s getting anxious. 

With technology how it is he knows he could’ve looked up Nicolò. He knows he’ll have some variation of the name he had all those years ago when Joe was still Yusuf and Nicolò was still Nicolò. 

But, he doesn’t want to. Well, that’s not true. But he feels like that’s cheating destiny. 

So far they’ve always met organically. Joe never seeks him out and once he gets comfortable enough to let his guard down and share their past with Nicolò it always goes over as smoothly as it can. 

“Too many times.” Joe answers Booker solemnly. 

“Joe.” 

“No. No, I’m being melancholic.” 

Booker snorts but then softens. “Hey.” Booker stands and grabs Joe’s shoulders. “This is always the worst part but once you meet it’s like he never left.”

“I know. I know.” The thing is Joe does know. Even though Joe always goes through thirty year periods without Nicolò he always gets him back. 

Reincarnation. 

Or, that’s what Copley, Booker’s husband, had called it when he first became immortal and joined their family. 

“Alright enough of this.” Booker walks over to the front door to put on his shoes. “I want coffee, we’re getting coffee.”

“I have coffee here.” Joe mutters weakly as he puts on his own shoes. 

“I want to try that new place on Charlie.”

“Cup of Joe?” Joe groans even as he says it. He hates coffee shops close to the university because he always seems to run into students. 

“Yes that one! I like the name.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Love you too, mon chéri.”

Joe laughs as Booker blows him a kiss as they make their way to the coffee shop. 

“I’m telling James you said that.”

“You wound me, Yusuf.”

“You’ll get over it.” Joe mumbles as he pushes open the door to the coffee shop with an entirely un-unique name. 

He’s about to let Booker walk in first when he turns and runs into someone. The moment they touch Joe knows it’s Nicolò.

Joe’s breath catches and they lock eyes, only Nicolò doesn’t have the usual look of wonder when they meet, no. This time he’s scowling. 

“Scusi.” Nicolò looks at him and scurries away but not before shooting a glare back at Joe. 

Booker shrugs and a woman wearing an apron behind the counter quickly apologizes for Nicolò’s behavior.

“Sorry. Nicky’s not normally so rude to customers.” The woman glares at Nicky and Joe smiles at the name. 

Nicky. 

He’s never gone by Nicky before but Joe immediately loves it. 

“It’s alright. Maybe he didn’t see me.”

Booker snorts and Joe elbows him in the side. 

“Maybe.” The woman looks at Nicky and turns back to them. “I’m Nile, what can I get for you?”

“I’ll have a large soy chai with extra whip cream.” Booker cuts in and Joe rolls his eyes at his drink choice. 

“I’ll take a coffee please, two sugars.” Joe says and Booker elbows him now and points to a sign.

First coffee is free for customers named Joe.

“Oh! Free coffee?”

“Is your name Joe?” Nile asks as she pulls out two punch cards for them.

“Yes.” Joe answers at the same time Nicky says, “That’s not his name.”

“Nicky.” Nile hisses and turns around. “Frankie! Come get your boy.” 

Another woman comes out from the back of the counter and takes one look at everyone and then grabs Nicky who starts muttering something that suspiciously sounds like his name is Yusuf in Italian.

Joe's staring stock still and Booker’s looking at him like he’s worried Joe’s going to start freaking out. 

“I am so sorry. Coffee’s on the house. I promise he is not like this.”

Nile’s worried voice breaks him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“It’s okay. I’m a professor at the university so my real name is in my bio. It’s Joseph.”

“Presumably most people named Joe have a full name.” Nile mumbles and looks back to where Frankie is forcing Nicky to sit down. 

“Anything else?” Nile asks as Joe stares at the bakery case. 

“No thanks.” Joe answers and they take their coffees to go.

“That was weird.” Booker mutters when they get outside. 

“You think?” Joe scrubs a hand over his face. “He’s never been hostile towards me.”

“Except the first time.” Booker points out unhelpfully. 

Joe glares at him.

“C’mon, we’ll come back tomorrow after your class. Maybe he’ll be in a better mood.”

~~~

Turns out, Nicky is not in a better mood when they head back to Cup of Joe.

Nile shoves him into the back as they order and Joe’s heart sinks. 

Booker looks like he’s about to say something when Joe spots baklava in the bakery case. 

“Baklava?” 

“Oh yes. Nicky loves it, loves to travel, so he bakes different versions from around the world. If you put in some money and guess the ingredients we’ll give you one on the house.”

Joe looks up at a sign that says:

Place your bets!

Booker snorts and Joe is transported to the last time Booker and Nicolò bet five hundred dollars on Andy guessing the flavors of an Eastern Turkey baklava.

Joe can hear Nicolò’s voice in his head. 

“Five hundred, Booker?” 

Joe turns to look at Booker and can tell he’s reliving the same memory. 

“Alright, five dollars Joe can guess that one.” Booker points to one on the top shelf and places a five dollar bill in the bowl.

“Okay!” Nile scoops up the baklava and hands it to Joe on some parchment. Before he takes a bite, Nile's yelling for Nicky and Frankie.

“Nicky! Frankie! We’ve got a guesser!” 

A crash sounds and then giggling and Joe’s breath catches at the sound of Nicky’s laughter.

“Honestly, introduce my wife to my best friend once.” Nile mumbles and Joe chuckles. 

He understands that sentiment, the first time he introduced Nicolò to Andy, Quynh, and Booker, and every time thereafter, they’ve all become fast friends.

“Who’s guessing?” Nicky asks and then pauses when his eyes lock with Joe’s.

Nicky turns away too quickly for Joe to notice anything so he decides to take a bite of the baklava and moans at the flavor.

“Mmm. Hazelnut, not walnut.” Joe takes a bite as Booker starts counting the ingredients off on his fingers. Nile smiles at him.

“Black Sea.” Joe smiles and takes another bite. “Rose water, pomegranate.”

Joe can see Nicky tensing and Joe takes another bite.

“Mmm. Eastern Turkey.” 

Joe opens his eyes in time to see Nile clapping and Booker smirking. 

But Joe only has eyes for Nicky, who’s covering his face in his hands as he turns and heads back behind the counter. Frankie pats Nicky on the back and looks at Joe and Booker.

“You’re the first one to guess that flavor profile.” Then she turns on her heels to find Nicky.

“That was amazing!” Nile’s still smiling and Joe shrugs. 

The flavors are familiar because it’s the last piece of baklava they bought Andy together, on their last trip to Turkey, the one Nicky bet Booker on.

Booker shrugs at him and orders another coffee.

“Do you want your free pastry now or rain check?”

Joe thinks about it for a moment. “Rain check.” 

Nile nods and pulls off a coupon from a little booklet and hands Joe a coffee. He thanks her for both as he wanders over to the wall of books and smiles at the little stand to drop off used books. 

“This was Nicky’s idea.” Nile says as she comes up beside him.

“The books?” Nicolò always did love books. Joe smiles at the warm memories.

“Mm. My wife and I wanted to open a coffee shop, and Nicky agreed to partner with us if he could bake and bring his books.”

Joe feels warm all over at the very Nicolò like thing that was to do. Nicolò was always reading and feeding people.

“These are his?” Joe looks over at the books.

“Some of them, yes. He thinks they should be shared with the world, which is why if you leave a book.” Nile points to the stand. “You can take a book.” 

“I love that.” Joe says honestly.

“So did we.” The bell at the front door jingles to indicate a new customer and Nile smiles as she goes to help them.

“How very Nicolò.” Booker mutters as he walks up to the books.

“I know.” Joe stops suddenly when he sees them. 

His books. His poetry. Nine of them, the very first volume One Thousand Sixty Nine is the only one missing. 

“Joe.”

“He has my poetry books.” Joe whispers, looking at the volumes, all written under various cover names. Except the first one. Which hasn’t been in print for a long time, the remaining copies sitting in a trunk at his house. 

“He has good taste.” Booker tries to joke but Joe isn’t convinced. 

“He’s never.” Joe shakes his head. “He’s never had any of my things before.” 

Booker turns back to look at where Nile and Nicky are whispering with a look of great concentration on his face. 

“What?” Joe snaps and then immediately apologizes. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. C’mon, you can come back tomorrow.”

“I don’t…”

“Joe.” Booker grabs his shoulders after they get outside. “I know this is different but when has any of this ever made sense?”

“No, you’re right.”

“I usually am.” Booker says smugly as Joe rolls his eyes.

“Don’t push it.” 

~~~

Joe changes up his tactics the next day, heading to Cup of Joe without Booker. 

He’s waited thirty years to see his Nicolò, hopefully he can manage a single conversation with Nicky that doesn’t involve glaring. 

No such luck. 

“Morning Nicky.” Joe says brightly and Nicky, ever the professional, sighs with his whole body and gets Joe’s coffee. 

That he doesn’t even have to ask Joe what he likes to drink makes Joe smile.

“Did you want your free pastry?” Nicky asks him and Joe smiles at the first real words Nicky has spoken to him.

“Surprise me?” Joe smirks and some of the tension Nicky’s carrying eases. 

Nicky picks a pastry that Joe finds vaguely familiar and when Joe takes a bite he actually can’t help the moan that escapes. 

“Oh my god, this is my favorite.” Joe says around a mouthful of a desert he hasn’t had in years. His mother used to make a variation of this and Nicolò always replicated it when he would learn that fact. 

“I know...I’m glad you like it.” Nicky curses in Italian and Joe can only look at him inquisitively. 

Before Joe can say anything else another customer walks in taking Nicky’s attention. 

Joe walks over to the bookcases and discretely pulls his own book out of his bag, the first volume that Nicky’s collection is missing. He places it on the Borrow a Book shelf and turns back to speak to Nicky.

“Ci vediamo domani.” Joe waves, pleased at the look of shock on Nicky’s face. 

Joe’s about to go to class when he sees a text from Booker. 

[Book: you gave him the book didn’t you?]

[Joe: how did you know that?]

[Joe: did you break into my place again?]

[Book: I have a key]

[Joe: I’m taking it back]

[Book: no you aren’t]

Joe sighs, Booker’s right. He isn’t taking his key back. They all have keys to each other’s place, privacy long since passed between all of them. It’s more enter at your own risk now. But still. 

Joe wanted a little more time with his decision to essentially out himself as himself with this prickly version of Nicolò before everyone else knew about it. 

And everyone else would know about it because Booker likes to gossip. 

He pockets his phone, resigned to spending hours with ungrateful students before he can see Nicky again. 

~~~

Joe thought when he walked into Cup of Joe the next morning he would be met with a shy smile and a ‘how did you find that edition?’ of his book that he dropped off. 

What he did not expect was for Nicky to grab him by the arm and bring him right back outside in such a flurry that Joe nearly falls down. 

Joe takes a moment to steady himself as he takes in the anger and fear on Nicky’s face. 

It’s something Joe hasn’t seen in centuries, although this Nicky is already so different than the Nicolò’s of the past, from his longer hair curling around his ears, the beard around his face, and two gold earrings, but also the fact that he seems to remember is enough for Joe to know this time is different.

“Where did you find this?” Nicky scowls and shakes the book Joe dropped off the day before in front of his face. 

“I…”

“Yusuf.” The sound of Joe’s real name jolts him back into awareness. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I had it in my collection. Thought I could complete yours.”

“Yusuf ibn Ibrahim ibn Muhammad ibn al-Kaysani.”

Joe sucks in a shaky breath.

“Tell me how I know that’s your name.” Nicky snarls. “Tell me.”

“How? I don’t - ” 

“He’s the moon when I’m lost in darkness and warmth when I shiver in cold.” 

“Nicky.”

“Tell me, Yusuf, how I didn’t have to read a single line in this damn book to know what it said.” Nicky shoves the book into Joe’s chest and he clutches it to him. 

“I - ”

“Better yet. Tell me how I remember you writing this. In Malta, in our cottage by the sea with the windows open while I laid in bed. ‘Nicolò, habibi, stay just like that.’ ‘Are you sketching again, amore mio?’ ‘No, writing about our love.’ Because it is a memory, isn’t it?” 

Joe feels like he’s been sucker punched. 

“You...you remember?” 

Nicky groans and grabs at his hair. Joe doesn’t know how this is possible. So many things in his life haven’t made since but Nicolò, even though they go years without each other, has always been his constant. 

“Tell me how this is possible?”

“I can’t, I…” Joe feels like he can’t breathe and the incoming panic isn’t helping. “I have to go.” 

Joe turns quickly and walks away from Nicky as fast as he can even though Nicky’s shouting after him. 

“Yusuf!”

Joe feels like running but he’s already struggling to breathe so he doesn’t, thankful that Booker and Copley live close to the coffee shop. 

He gets to their door and knocks, barely able to stand. He could use his key but that would require effort. He hears someone’s footsteps, Copley’s probably, and braces against the door as it opens.

“Joe? Why didn’t you use your key?” Copley asks him and then frowns at him.

“James.” Joe croaks out and Copley immediately knows that something is wrong because Joe has called him James exactly one time, and it was when Copley and Booker got married.

“Okay. C’mon. Can you walk?” 

Joe nods and he can tell Copley is checking him over to see if he’s injured.

“‘M fine.”

Joe sinks down onto their plush couch as Copley calls for Booker.

“James? Was someone at the door?” Booker takes one look at what Joe is sure is the most pathetic he’s ever looked before Booker’s running over to him.

“Joe? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Booker’s frantically checking him over and Joe just shakes his head. 

Joe looks up at the sound of more footsteps and cringes when he sees Andy and Quynh. 

“What? You didn’t think we remembered what year it is?” Andy asks as she sits on the coffee table. 

Joe gives her a weak smile as Booker grabs his hands to stop them from shaking.

Copley hands him a glass of water and Joe’s grateful for the cold, as he takes a couple of minutes to get his breathing under control. 

When he’s finally able to take a true breath he looks up at the people he’s called family for longer than anyone should ever live and cries.

“He remembers.” Joe says brokenly.

“Who?”

“What does he remember?” 

“What happened?”

“Nicky?”

Joe ignores the rapid fire questions from everyone and just looks at Booker. 

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Someone tell me what’s going on.” Andy uses her no nonsense voice and Joe cringes.

“He met Nicolò the other day.” Booker sighs after a moment when Joe stays silent. 

Andy and Quynh gasp, which Joe supposes is nice, that Booker didn’t let the cat out of the bag until Joe could tell them himself. 

“He goes by Nicky this time.” Joe smiles at the memory of finding out that Nicolò uses a nickname in this lifetime. 

“He owns a coffee shop with two of his friends, it’s called Cup of Joe.” 

Andy snorts and Quynh swats at her arm. 

“He, well there were signs the last couple of days that he knew things about me, about us, that he shouldn't have. But I just assumed it was me overreacting.”

“I take it the book didn’t help?” Booker holds up the book to show everyone and Joe nods.

“I dropped it off yesterday and today before I even made it inside Nicky was grabbing me and bringing me outside to tell me he remembered every line of poetry.”

“Well, that would make sense if he read it yesterday.” Copley sits down next to Booker, who immediately grabs his hand. 

“He didn’t just remember the poetry. He remembered what we were doing when I wrote it.”

“Gross.” Booker gags and Joe shoves him while everyone laughs.

“No. We were in Malta. He told me word for word the conversation we had.”

“And you remember it?” Andy asks and Joe glares at her.

“Of course I do.” Joe snaps and then reaches out to squeeze Andy’s hand in apology. 

“What do you want to do?” Andy asks him and Joe shakes his head.

“No, it’s not just about me or - ”

“Joe. If he’s remembering you need to tell him. You always do anyway.” Booker says quietly. 

“He was just so confused.” Joe puts his head in his hands, ashamed at himself for leaving Nicky there when he was clearly freaking out. 

“Hey.” Booker grabs his shoulder and Joe looks at him.

“I just left him. He’s all alone and I left him, probably wondering what’s going on.” 

“It’s too late now to do anything. You can go to the coffee shop tomorrow and see him.” Booker suggests as Copley stands to make dinner.

“Tomorrow.”

Joe wants to go now. Wants to comfort Nicky or at least be an outlet for his frustration. Joe’s never had to explain their history to Nicky with Nicky already having a head start. 

“Fine. Copley better be making croque monsieurs.”

“I am!” 

Booker laughs and claps him on the back and Joe nods, resolute to fix this, so he doesn’t lose Nicky this lifetime. 

~~~

Joe shows up at Cup of Joe right as it’s opening, a small bushel of lavender, Nicolò’s favorite, in his right hand, and his poetry book in his left. 

Nile takes one look at him when he gets to the counter and scowls.

Joe takes a step back and holds his hands up. Nile notices the lavender and softens immediately.

“Is that for Nicky?”

“Yeah.” Joe swallows. “How is he?” 

“He’s...been better.”

Joe nods and looks to the side, wondering just how much Nicky disclosed to his friends. They’ve had mortal friends throughout the years, if only because Nicky was mortal as well. A few they’d let in on their secrets but not in a long time. 

Nile sighs loudly and he turns his attention back to her. 

“Look. I don’t know what happened between you two, but he was pretty shaken up yesterday.”

“I didn’t…” At Nile’s scowl, Joe amends his statement. “It was a misunderstanding. I have no intention of hurting him again.”

Nile takes a moment, sizes him up, and must come to some conclusion that he’s telling the truth because she nods and hands him a brown paper bag and a to go cup.

“What’s this?”

“His favorites.”

Joe smells the bag and smiles. “Vanilla latte and blueberry scone.”

Nile smiles at him and Joe’s thankful she doesn’t ask how he knows that.

“He lives upstairs. That.” She nods to the bag. “Will let him know I sent you.”

“Thank you, Nile.”

“Don’t make me regret this!” Nile shouts after him as he goes to leave.

“I won’t!” 

Joe finds the stairs leading to the second floor and smiles at the hanging plants and welcome mat that says ciao at the front door. 

Nicky opens the door before Joe even knocks, almost like he was expecting Joe to stop by. 

Joe smiles and holds up his offerings. “Hi. I think we should talk?”

Nicky holds the door open further so Joe can walk inside and as he takes a look around he smiles warmly at the apartment that is so very Nicky.

“Nile gave me these.” Joe hands over the coffee and scone. “And I brought you these.”

Nicky takes the lavender and brings it to his nose to smell. He smiles a little, even though it’s sad.

“I guess I don’t have to tell you they’re my favorite, do I?” 

“I’d love to learn everything about you.” Joe blurts out instead of the answer Nicky really wants. 

Nicky takes that for what it is as he puts the lavender in a vase and then opens the brown paper bag and moans when he sees the scone. 

Joe chuckles. “You like your own baking that much?”

Nicky looks at him oddly and then shakes his head as he takes a bite. “I don’t make these, Frankie does.”

Joe pauses and then smiles as he remembers that he always made Nicolò scones, an old family recipe that puts…

“Brown sugar in the batter.” Nicky finishes and Joe realizes that he said the last part out loud. 

Joe smiles, sheepish, and holds up the book instead. 

“I wanted you to have this.”

“Why?”

“Well, frankly, it’s yours.”

Nicky nods and hands Joe a glass of water and Joe is grateful for something to do with his hands as he waits for Nicky to answer. 

Joe hands it to Nicky who runs his hands over the cover like it’s something special and precious.

“This was the only one I couldn’t find. The others, they’re not a true collection, different authors.” Nicky grins. “But I knew they were all by the same person.”

“Did you?”

“Know it was you before the other day?”

Joe nods, wondering if Nicky’s been remembering his past lives his entire life.

“No. And before you ask I didn’t start...uhh, the, uhh, un riccardo, how do you say in English?”

“Memory.”

“Right, the memories didn’t start until we met the other day.”

“When we touched?” Joe remembers the jolt he felt, unfamiliar and familiar at the same time. 

“Sì.” 

“I’ve had these feelings my whole life, inklings, I think. Like with the books, the scones, things like that, but never actual memories before.”

Joe looks around the apartment and notices the tapestries and rugs that match the ones they have in their home in Malta. The artwork on the walls, reproductions of both Booker’s and Joe’s art. The same nine books of Joe’s that he has in the coffee shop. Little pieces of their lives together and Nicky had no idea.

“It’s all familiar to you?” Nicky asks him quietly and Joe nods.

“Will you tell me about it?”

“About what?”

“Our life...lives.” 

Joe looks shocked for a moment. “I thought you?”

“I want to hear it from you, if you’re willing?”

“Yes. Yes of course.” Joe smiles, pleased that Nicky’s willing to hear him out. “Where do you want me to start?”

“The beginning.”

“It’s quite a long story. I’ve been alive a long time.”

“I’d like to hear it. I need to...make sense of everything.” Nicky points to his head and Joe smiles.

“Alright. I’m pretty sure you killed me during the Crusades.”

Nicky laughs and Joe can’t help it, he laughs too. A thought occurs to Joe and he gasps.

“Is that why you were so cold to me when we first met?”

Nicky’s cheeks turn a bright pink as he ducks his head and Joe warms at the sight.

“I didn’t know what was happening. I was confused. Seeing things that couldn’t have been real, in languages I didn’t know I knew.” Nicky shrugs. 

“You know I don’t blame you, right? We’ve long since worked it out.”

Nicky gasps and Joe’s glad that he can read this version of Nicky. 

“The love of my life was of the people I’ve been taught to hate.” Nicky recites and then shakes his head and Joe steps closer, raises his hand to telegraph his movements. 

Nicky nods and Joe squeezes his hand, gasps as the buzzing returns but then settles. 

“I love you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“You’re right, I don’t know this version of you, but I know your heart. I know the pain you still feel about what happened, but I’m telling you, the Nicolò I love has grown to realize the mistakes he made when he marched on Jerusalem.”

Nicky squeezes his hand before he steps back and Joe lets him go, stepping back a little himself. 

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll tell you about our lives together, and you tell me about you.”

“You want to know about me?”

“I want to know everything.” 

Nicky smiles and turns to put on a kettle. Joe warms at the thought that Nicky still loves tea even though he owns a coffee shop.

“Chamomile? I think we’ll be up a while.”

Joe nods and takes a sip of the tea when it’s done, smiling when he realizes it’s just the way he likes it. 

Joe walks over the couch and settles with a blanket as he gestures for Nicky to join him. Nicky chuckles softly and goes to sit down.

Joe immediately shares the blanket as they settle in. 

“I think I’d rather hear about you first, especially if you remember a lot of our lives.”

“I’m not that interesting.” 

“Nicolò.” Joe waits until Nicky looks at him. “You are the most interesting person to me, always.”

Nicky blushes again and Joe’s enamored. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, he can’t wait to learn everything about this Nicky. 

~~~

When he leaves Nicky’s apartment the next morning, he’s smiling from ear to ear, with a spring in his step, even though he didn’t sleep.

They spent the rest of the day and all night talking, trading story after story. He knows they didn’t learn everything but he feels closer to Nicky than he ever has before, not realizing he was missing a partner that just knew things about him.

He also managed to get Nicky’s number and plans for an actual date tomorrow night, since all they ended up eating was leftovers. 

He’s giddy with the thought of dating Nicky. Of learning about all of the little things that make this Nicky decidedly his own. 

Joe doesn’t know how he does it but he makes it through all of his lectures and office hours. He even makes it through dinner with the family, overjoyed to tell them about his night and plans for the next day. 

He wakes up happier than ever, eager for the day to end so he can take Nicky out on their date. 

“I’ve never seen you like this.” Booker comments as they make their way to Cup of Joe the next morning.

“It’s all so new, we’ve never dated like this before.”

“You’ve dated.”

“But not like this. Not where he knows.” Joe knows he’s practically bouncing as they walk down the street, smiling from ear to ear. 

Booker chuckles and he shoves his brother lightly when he sees Nicky, Nile, and Frankie setting up their patio outside the coffee shop.

Joe also knows he has a besotted look on his face because Booker gags and then groans.

“Oh god, it’s like that already?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Joe says innocently and Booker smiles.

“It’s good to see you like this, brother.” 

Joe smiles warmly at Booker before he looks back at the trio outside the coffee shop. They’re just crossing the street and he calls out for Nicky. 

“Nicolò!”

But just as Nicky turns to smile at him, a car comes barreling down the road, completely out of control, and Joe can only watch in horror as the car hits the curb right in front of the coffee shop, flipping and careening right into the patio in a sickening crunch. 

“Nicolò!” Joe screams as others nearby scream and he and Booker run towards the wreckage. 

“Nicolò!” Joe slides to where Nicky was standing and sees him lying lifeless on the patio. He briefly touches Nicky’s forehead and looks around and sees Nile and Frankie lying at unnatural angles.

Nicky’s body is shielding them like he tried to push them out of the way. 

“Nicolò.” Joe croaks as Booker tries to pull him away.

“No. No!” 

“Joe. We have to call for help.”

“I can’t leave him!”

“Joe. He’s gone.”

“No! No!” Joe sobs as he cradles Nicky’s head. “No.”

“Yusuf.”

“No.” Joe knows he’s not breathing right, the hiccuping sobs making it harder to think.

“Nicolò, destati.” Joe sobs as he brushes Nicky’s shoulder softly. 

“Destati.”

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight - Chapter 12: Forward

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~4800

Rating: PG (language only)

Summary: Two weeks since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: I’m back! And I hope to stay back and posting! It’s been a while since the last chapter, so as a quick refresher - Hana has been named Duchess of Valtoria by King-Regent Rashad, Amalas was somehow able to track down the Walkers in Xanthi, Greece (and wants to turn that knowledge into an alliance), and the Walkers are heading onto Athens as their options for survival as fugitives are not looking great.

This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Hana glanced around the palace ballroom, taking in the groups of people milling about the room. In so many ways, tonight was just like any other ball or gala. How many events had she been to in this room over the past three years, with mostly the same guests, the same food, and the same music? But tonight was different. Not only was this ball being thrown in her honor, welcoming her as Cordonia’s newest duchess, but it was the first event she’d attended without Riley by her side. Since that opening masquerade ball of Liam’s social season, they’d always been together for every formal event. But not tonight. Tonight, she was back to doing things on her own.

She stood over towards the front of the room, greeting the last of the nobility and well wishers. Soon, the dancing would start. It was strange how everything felt routine and totally different at the same time. She supposed that when Rashad gave a speech acknowledging her new title, things would really seem different. But for now, it was just a weird mix of emotions she was trying so hard to keep at bay as she shook hand after hand, nodded politely over and over again, and kept a gentle smile locked in place.

“Congratulations!” Penelope squealed, scurrying across the ballroom and throwing her arms around Hana, “This is so exciting! Isn’t it exciting, Zeke?”

Ezekiel nodded briskly and gave Hana a small little smile as he held out his right hand for her to shake, “Yes. Congratulations, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, both of you,” Hana replied, giving a nod that she hoped conveyed the right blend of gratitude and authority. She needed her first appearance as a duchess to go well for many reasons.

She knew intellectually that her appointment as the Duchess of Valtoria was a desperation move from Rashad. His first week and a half as king-regent had been far from smooth and calm. The groups of protesters in front of the palace had grown in number every day, the citizens of Lythikos were organizing, and the unrest in Valtoria was spilling into neighboring lands. Rashad had needed to do something, but as a temporary leader, making changes that were too aggressive would be poorly received and could possibly worsen the protesting. He had to walk a very fine line, and presenting Hana as a new regional leader looked like he was taking action without actually requiring him to stick his neck out and take a stand. For someone who hated courtly politics, his maneuver was pretty brilliant.

But because of the fact that her appointment to duchess was done by an interim leader, Hana knew she would be subjected to increased scrutiny. Not just from Barthelemy’s allies, who would likely object to the title going to someone with known close ties to the Walkers and to Liam, but also from Liam’s supporters, who were likely to object to any use of the powers of the monarch by Rashad, someone they considered an illegitimate king-regent. Part of her worried that she was being set up to fail, albeit unintentionally.

Still, she knew she was ready for this. She had prepared her whole life to hold a title at this level. She had trained and studied and practiced for years. This was the job she had been preparing for since she was a child. Granted, she had been taught that she would rise to this title through marriage, was told that her job would be to be a diplomat behind the scenes, supporting a husband in his role. But the concept was the same, even though this title was hers and hers alone. And maybe it was crazy and naive, but there was a part of Hana that felt proud. Someone had seen her talents and skills and contributions to Valtoria and decided to recognize them. No, to recognize her.

Of course, it wasn’t that simple. Given the method of her appointment, she was likely going to need to prove herself over and over again. Her mother had seen fit to remind her of that twice already this evening, as if that wasn’t already running through her brain constantly. If she was even a mediocre duchess, so many would get hurt. Rashad would find it difficult to gain any support to make any decisions if his first major one proved to be a poor choice. Liam’s bid to reclaim the throne would be damaged if one of his known close associates was an unpopular and ineffective duchess. And probably most importantly, the people of Valtoria deserved some stability and support in a time of national upheaval.

As much as Hana felt for Riley and Drake and understood why they made the choices they did for their family, she also felt for the citizens of Valtoria acutely. They didn’t ask to have their duchess and duke abandon them, did nothing to deserve this degree of political instability. Of course, that could probably be said for all the citizens of Cordonia. A power struggle amongst the nobility had triggered the loss of the country’s heir to the throne and a power vacuum that was going to leave them without stable national leadership for months. The whole thing made her feel almost ill to think about, but all she could do at this point was do her best to serve Valtoria and it’s citizens with her whole heart and mind.

“How are you doing, Hana Banana?” Maxwell’s hand on her shoulder jolted her out of her moment of introspection. She gave him a smile, accepting the glass of champagne he offered her and tapping it lightly against his.

“Tonight has been… a lot,” she said after taking a sip of her drink.

“Tell me about it. It feels like it was just yesterday that we were here for Riley’s ball, naming her the Duchess of Valtoria.”

Hana hummed lightly at that, and suddenly, Maxwell was rambling.

“Not that you took it from her or don’t deserve the title or anything! Because you absolutely do! Like, you are so wise and smart and crazy talented and -”

“-Maxwell, I know what you meant. I was just thinking about how I could do without a recreation of the end of that night.”

“Oh. Yeah. Me too. To be fair, I don’t think my dad’s hired a bunch of assassins. Of course, I didn’t think he was plotting a coup underneath my nose either, soooo…” Maxwell trailed off with a little shrug.

Hana glanced over, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a little squeeze. “I feel like we haven’t had much of a chance to talk. How are you doing with everything?”

He shrugged again and took a sip of his champagne. “Yeah, I haven’t been able to get away from Ramsford really at all this week. Bertrand is losing his mind prepping for Dad’s inevitable attempt to forcibly retake his title. He’s hunkered down in the west wing, while Dad’s taken the east. Bertrand’s already fired about one third of the staff because he’s caught them over on Dad’s side for no good reason, so Dad’s taken to firing staff he’s sure are loyal to Bertrand in retaliation. Soon, it’ll just be the three of us. Actually, the five of us. Savannah and Bartie get back tomorrow.”

“Have you decided whether to give her Drake’s number yet?” Hana asked, making sure she kept her voice low. Ever since Savannah had booked the tickets back for her and Bartie, there had been a bit of a debate over whether or not she should receive a burner phone and be told how to get in touch with her brother. Olivia firmly believed there were already too many people who knew, whereas Maxwell brought up that it was wrong to prevent her from talking to her brother when she was only coming back to Cordonia earlier than planned to help Bertrand fight his father’s bid to reclaim the title of Duke of Ramsford. He insisted that meant she had already proven herself a trusted ally, while Olivia remained unconvinced. Both Hana and Liam had taken a more neutral stance on the matter, but he had expressed to her that he didn’t think it boded well for them that their group was already facing such strong differences of opinion. Quite frankly, it was a significant sticking point that felt like it could implode at any moment.

Maxwell shook his head. “Not right away at least. Bertrand honestly is so engrossed with trying to align support for his claim to our head of house title that I don’t think he’s even realized we’re in contact with Drake and Riley at this point. When I talked to Savannah, she was pretty worried about him, so I don’t think she’d want to risk hurting his chances by talking to known ‘traitors and fugitives’ at this point.”

All of it just made Hana sad. More families torn apart by this scheme, more pain and paranoia in all of their lives. “Well, that will make Olivia happy at least.”

“One can only hope. She’s been in fine form lately.”

He wasn’t wrong. It seemed like Olivia’s small reserve of patience was used up on dealing with Liam and Leo. She hadn’t lashed out at Hana yet, but the only thing Hana had done to annoy her was arrange that meeting with Kiara, and all was quickly forgiven when Hana told her she had fostered a line of communication on that front. Maxwell, on the other hand, seemed to annoy her regularly even at baseline.

“She just has a lot on her plate, Maxwell.”

“I know, I know. But that shouldn’t give her the right to take it out on us.”

“It doesn’t, but right now I think we are all just trying to hang on and hope for the best we can.”

“Yeah, well here’s hoping for better soon.” And with that he clinked his glass against hers yet again. “Speaking of better, do you need me to cause a distraction so you can sneak out and chat with Kiara?”

She shook her head. “No, Hakim is officially representing their family tonight. She texted me that he is on high alert and that it would be too risky for us to meet tonight. She’s coming alone next week.”

“Ahh, for social season kickoff, take two?”

“Yes, so I should be able to speak to her then.”

“What do you think her endgame is? Or Hakim’s?”

Hana tilted her head to the side and let out a small sigh. She’d speculated endlessly for the past week, ever since her meeting with Kiara, but every idea felt just as improbable as the one before it. “I honestly don’t have a clue, Maxwell.”

“That’s alright, even you are allowed to not know the answers every once in a while,” he said, winking at her. “Now, come on. We’ve been moping here for too long. Tonight is your night, Hana! So what do you say? Dancing? More drinks? Grab some food? Or did I hear someone suggest dancing?”

She smiled, grateful that Maxwell understood the power of a morale boost and proud that he was still able to cheer up those around him, even as his family was falling apart before his eyes. “Maxwell, would you do me the honor of the next dance?”

“Why, Your Grace, it would be my honor,” he replied with a flourish, grabbing her champagne flute and placing both their glasses on an empty tray before accompanying her onto the dance floor.

As they settled into the rhythm of the song, Hana gave Maxwell’s hand a friendly squeeze. “Thank you, Maxwell.”

“For what?”

“For still being you.”

He beamed brightly at that. “Same to you, Hana. Definitely same to you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Liam stood off to the side of the ballroom, nursing a glass of water. It was his first public appearance in about a week and a half, and even though he had never had a problem handling his liquor, the last thing he needed tonight was to have his judgement at all altered or impaired. This whole evening was going to be stressful enough without having to worry about imbibing just a little too heavily.

He knew it was important for him to be here. He needed to be seen again, to show strength and resilience and fortitude to any who might doubt him. Additionally, Hana was one of his dearest friends, and he wanted to be present to support and celebrate her. This night was key for a variety of reasons. 

However, that didn't change the fact that tonight was just plain hard. He was surrounded by people he knew he could no longer trust. How many of them were plotting against him at this very moment? Were whispering how pleased they were about recent events over their drinks? Were watching him closely, latching onto any change of his expression as a sign of his suffering?

Other than Olivia, Leo, Hana, Maxwell, and Bertrand, people seemed to be steering clear of Liam tonight. It was clear they had no concept of how to handle interacting with him at this point. His circumstances were fairly unprecedented. Sure Leo had abdicated, but that had been his choice and he hadn't been the reigning monarch when he made that decision. Additionally, he had left the country for months after his abdication. But Liam was still here, in the heart of it all, after being stripped of the crown.

He wasn't used to having so much time to himself, both at formal events such as tonight's ball, and just in general. In the simplest sense of the word, he was unemployed. And while some, such as Leo, seemed to thrive without the pressure and responsibility that came from having professional duties, Liam was finding he didn't much like having… well, nothing. He had no career, no obligations, no partner, no children. He just… was. He existed.

He knew he needed to shake off this attitude. The social season would be officially, finally, starting in one week, and he needed to hit the ground running. He was essentially going to be campaigning for many months. The issue was that he had no desire to campaign. He had been born into his role and raised to serve Cordonia's people since he was a child. He wasn't supposed to have to fight to even have a chance to put that training to use.

Taking another sip of his water, he leaned against the bar, just watching as the rest of the nobility talked and laughed and enjoyed themselves. If he had opted for whiskey instead of water, he would have been doing a good Drake impression. Well, a Drake-of-several-years-ago impression. Ever since Bridget's birth, or maybe even Riley's pregnancy, Drake had been much more engaged at events like this one. Now that he had more time to contemplate that fact, he wondered how much of that came from Drake's own personal growth and opening up and how much of it was forced on him by the nature of Bridget being named heir to the throne. 

He scanned the room slowly,  his eyes eventually settling on Olivia dancing with his brother. She was wearing a grey dress, not a red one for once. He supposed that was a testament to how much she had come to respect Hana over the years - she had decided to forego her signature color and instead wore a less eye-catching one so that Hana could own the spotlight on her night. Eventually, the song came to an end. Liam watched as she laughed and rolled her eyes at something Leo said before stepping off to the side and making her way over to the bar. She slid up next to him, requesting a glass of Bordeaux before she turned to talk to him.

“So, how are you… uh, doing?”

He couldn’t help but smile at her awkward attempt at emotional comfort. She was trying, had been trying for days, in fact. But Olivia was just not well suited for gentle emotional soothing. Tough love was much more in her wheelhouse. It was nearly disconcerting that she wasn’t using tough love, he realized. He must not be coping as well as he wanted to be if this was the approach she was taking.

“I will admit that it is strange to be back here without my title. Coming to an event here, not hosting an event here is even more unsettling than I thought it would be. Of course that could be in part due to the fact that the exact same menu, music, and decor that was used for Riley’s ball welcoming her to the nobility is on display.”

“Did your assistant not think it might be wise to change it up at all?” she asked as she accepted her glass of wine from the bartender with a nod. 

“I’m guessing Rashad didn’t care to make any changes, and Stefan isn’t exactly motivated to enhance the perception of Rashad as a leader. After all, he stayed on to help him at my request.”

“Touché.” she said, taking a sip of her drink.

“Of course, this Duchess of Valtoria seems far less likely to leave her citizens and her country in a lunch by fleeing and abandoning her post.” Liam regretted the words as soon as he said them. The look Olivia was giving him was an unbearable mixture of pity and frustration. “Sorry, you know I didn’t mean that.”

“Liam…”

“Okay, I might have kind of meant it, but I don’t want to mean it. I am trying not to mean it. At the very least, it wasn’t something I should have said aloud.”

She paused for just a moment, running her bright red nails along the side of her wine glass before responding, “Maybe it would be helpful to frame your frustrations with those two differently.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, instead of being mad as hell that Riley didn’t take her responsibilities to Cordonia seriously, maybe be more frustrated that someone as impulsive as her took on all those responsibilities knowing she would never be able to stay true to them. It makes the whole thing seem a little more abstract and annoying, less personal and infuriating. At least, it does for me.”

He frowned at that. Her strategy was an interesting one, but he wasn’t sure it was going to help with the storm of emotions he was trying to keep locked away tonight. “I’m not saying you are wrong, but Olivia, the only reason she carried that title was because I offered it to her.”

“She could have turned it down. Don’t put this on yourself.”

Liam didn’t know if that was exactly a fair assessment. Of course Riley could have rejected his offer of the duchy, just like Drake and her could have turned down his request to name their child heir to the throne. But he had been the one who decided that she was a good fit to be Duchess of Valtoria, that they were good options to raise the next King or Queen of Cordonia. With the benefit of hindsight, those decisions looked terrible, so wildly ill-conceived and poorly executed. How had he convinced himself that both those choices had been for the best?

He’d been so focused on being a compassionate, trusting king. He hadn’t wanted to turn into his father, cold and calculating, seeing enemies around every corner. But maybe he had swung the pendulum too far in the opposite direction and become overly trusting and complacent. Would anyone else in his position have made the choices he made? More often than not these, he doubted that many of his decisions as king were sound.

His silence must have made Olivia uncomfortable, because she wrapped a hand around his wrist and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Liam, come on. Forget I said anything. You know I’m not great at the whole pep talk, emotional support thing. It was probably bad advice.”

Liam shook his head, feeling a sad sort of smile tug across his face, almost against his will. “No, I think it was good advice, Liv. It just has given me a lot to think about.”

“Liam…”

“I’m fine. I just am going to take a walk and clear my head.” With that, Liam set down his empty glass of water and turned around, walking out towards the doors and into his mother’s gardens. He knew he needed to be moving forward, not dwelling on the past like he was at the moment. The social season was only a week away, and with it came his bid to reclaim his title. Still, it was hard to be energized and optimistic about that prospect when all his failures and shortcomings seemed more numerous and prominent than they had ever been in the past. Or maybe he was simply more aware of them at this point. Either way, he couldn’t help but question how he was going to convince other nobles that he deserved the crown when he barely felt like he could convince himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Riley tensed as she heard the door creak open. Even though she was expecting Drake back around this time, she still half expected it to be Greek authorities, Montoressan spies, or Cordonian agents bursting through the door of their hotel room, ready to arrest her and take her baby away.

But it was Drake on the other side of the door. She let out a little sigh of relief when she saw his face. He, on the other hand, frowned. “What are you still doing up?” he asked as he closed and locked the door behind him. He kept his voice quiet, clearly not wanting to wake up Bridget.

Riley just shrugged. The truth was that whenever Drake went out, she was scared. Scared that he would be found and picked up and extradited back to Cordonia. Scared that she would be left alone in a country where she didn’t speak the language with a 10 month old baby. Scared that her family was going to be torn apart. But she couldn’t tell that to Drake, not when he was the only thing keeping them afloat. She knew him. He was already carrying enough stress without having to soothe her panicked and frazzled nerves every time he left to go earn them a little cash.

They had been in Athens about a week now, but Riley and Bridget had not left the hotel since they checked in. Bridget seemed to have resigned herself to the fact that her life now did not extend beyond these four walls and was usually content to play with her blocks or to listen to Riley read her the same three picture books over and over, which was both a blessing and mad depressing. Drake, however, had been venturing out daily, looking for places that would hire him under the table, without checking his ID or anything that might get them caught. She’d had to coach him on how to find these jobs, having looked for cash paying jobs many times when she needed to make rent back in New York. In some respects, it might have been better for her to be the one to go out job hunting since she had more experience, but they’d decided she was way more recognizable than Drake, particularly now that he had grown a beard to make facial recognition harder. Her inability to speak more than eight Greek phrases also clearly made Drake the better option.

He hadn’t had any luck the first four days, but then he found a restaurant owner who was willing to pay him straight cash every night to work as a dishwasher. Sure, the hourly pay was garbage and he didn’t get home until very late, but he also got to bring home leftovers every night, which meant that they had to spend less money on food. At this point, even slowing their bleeding of their minimal money supply was essential, particularly since the social season hadn’t even started yet, which meant that the earliest the Conclave could happen would be almost six months from now. Riley honestly didn’t know how they were going to feed themselves for that long, much less find shelter in the winter.

It’s not like Riley had never known poverty or living paycheck to paycheck before. But doing it now, with her baby girl, just felt so much more draining and awful. Bridget was just a kid, she didn’t ask for any of this, and she definitely didn’t deserve to suffer. But there was little Riley could do to make things better other than try and keep things happy and joyful when they were playing. Drake was doing everything else.

He handed her a bag of food before stripping out of his shirt and going to wash it in the bathroom. She peeked inside, seeing some dolmadakia, some bread, and some sort of chicken. A decent variety tonight. Trying not to rustle the bag too loudly, she pulled out some of the food and started eating, making sure to take less than half. She was sure Drake was lying when he told her he didn’t need much because he ate at the restaurant. She’d worked enough shitty, under the table jobs in her time to know that eating while on the clock was the quickest way to get yourself fired.

“So,” Drake said as he came out of the bathroom, taking off his pants and folding them neatly before climbing into the other side of the bed. “Olivia texted me while I was at work. She has a possible plan to get us our passports and some money, but she wanted to run it by us first.”

Riley knew her eyebrows had practically shot up to her forehead as she took in his statement. She handed him the bag with the rest of the food, turning onto her side to face him fully. “What’s the plan?”

“Well, Leo’s been back in Cordonia since we… uh… left. But he’s planning to take off before the social season kicks off.”

“Okay?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for him to spend a few days in Athens, taking in nightlife and clubs, that sort of thing.”

“Oh.” Riley wasn’t sure what to make of that. She always found Leo friendly and easy to talk to, but she’d heard enough stories to know that he was exactly the most responsible man on the planet. “You know Leo better than me, Drake. Is this a good idea?”

Drake let out a long breath, his eyes closing for a brief moment before he answered, “I don’t know, Walker. Him being here would not raise too many alarm bells, but he sometimes can draw the attention of the paparazzi - the “Party Prince” is usually good for a scandal or two, that sort of shit. And uhh, well… let’s just say I would count on him being an hour late if we went to meet him somewhere.”

“So not exactly your first choice to hold on to our passports then?”

“Not so much, no.”

Riley chewed on her lip for just a moment, her hand gently running over the back of Bridget’s head. She was sound asleep, nestled on the bed between them. Even though this hotel had a crib for them to use, Riley just couldn’t bring herself to fall asleep without her daughter right next to her. “We don’t really have a choice, do we?”

Drake shook his head. “We need money, Riley. Badly. I don’t know if Olivia is financing this or what, but I don’t think it matters anymore. We aren’t going to make it until January at this rate. Hell, I don’t think we’ll make it to September.”

She reached over and gave his wrist a little squeeze. He was trying to do so much to keep them surviving on their own. She knew it was killing him that they were having to take this risk, to potentially get themselves caught in some weird clandestine meetup with a former prince in order to get some more cash and their passports so that they could try and get forgeries made. It really was their best chance at being able to hide out through the Conclave.

“Well, then let’s do it. Work out the details with Olivia and get what we need to try and keep going.

Drake stared at her for just a brief moment before giving her a little nod. There wasn’t really much to say. All they could do was keep moving forward, day by day. So, Riley slid down into her pillow, finally ready to get some sleep now that she knew Drake was back and safe. The last thing she saw before her eyes fluttered closed was Drake letting out a heavy sigh before reaching into the bag of food.

Permatag: @walkerswhiskeygirl @riley--walker @bebepac @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5 @mfackenthal @thequeenofcronuts

TRR/TRH: @iaminlovewithtrr @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @axwalker @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @kingliam2019 @dcbbw @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @yaushie @debramcg1106 @masterofbluff

Drake/MC: @no-one-u-know @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs @drakesensworld @drake-colt-lover-99 @twinkleallnight

FoF: @burnsoslow @bobasheebaby @shz256​

[imagine-lcorp]

Think About It (One Shot)

Request

fem!Reader and Lena where R is Winn’s older sister and like him, is very intelligent. Yet, unlike him, is more confident and a whole badass person 🤩 lena and r bump into each other when they’re both at the DEO. R and Winn are enthusiastically chatting about some nErDy stuff and while Lena is talking to Supergirl, she catches R in the corner of her eye and is absolutely mesmerized

A/N: I guys, so we are back!! I’m sorry it’s taking a shot ton of time from me to write but i’m trying to get my shit together over here so that’s a work in progress but remember it is my mission to finish your request so pls don’t worry! Now, kudos to the dear anon that sent this one, i hope you like it! love ya guys :)

Lena Luthor x Schott Fem!R//Word Count: 2,008

-------------------------------------------------------

The DEO had been relatively quiet during the whole day as there seemed to be nothing that could disrupt the calm that surrounded the whole place. There had been no threats of any kind. All hostile aliens were already on their cells, and the agents had been going about their day without interruption. Nothing out of the ordinary seemed to happen, and it almost felt like a well deserved day of rest considering the last threat they had to face. Reign and the Worldkillers had given the world a show to remember and everyone was still trying to go back to some sort of normalicy.

J'onn and Alex had been in the main office, discussing what she needed to know as the soon to be new director of the DEO. Part of the Legion of Superheros was still around, taking care of the last details before returning to their own time. Supergirl was close to the labs, thanking Lena for basically saving everyone's lives with the Harun-El.

It could have been one of the quietest days at the DEO had it not been for the sudden bickering that filled the lobby.

"It is not." Winn's voice echoed through the walls.

"It is." Your voice came almost instantly.

"It's not!" "It is!"

It kept going and going until the voices reached the center of the lobby and everyone turned their heads to see who was causing such a fuss.

"(Y/N), come on! Those are high tech machines, what's not to love about them." It was Winn who kept going about it.

"Look, I totally get it." You said as you walked through the lobby. "You wanna have your fun punching giant monsters in your giant robot? That's great! But they are unpractical."

"They are not. You're creating a line of defense against big alien creatures, fighting fire with fire."

"The thing is they are purely mechanical bodies fighting sentient creatures that obviously have a huge mobility advantage. Why don't you use biological weapons instead and end the job faster?"

"You serious?" Winn stopped in the middle of the lobby. "Bio weapons is the last thing you want to use. Do you wanna endanger the whole population?"

"Alright, alright. I'll give you that." You stopped too and turned to look at your brother. "But it is still unpractical a waste of resources because you cannot fight, guess what?"

"What?" Winn crossed his arms.

You gave him a cheeky smile, like you always did when you were sure you were about to end an argument. "Physics."

Even though you were sure that would end the discussion, it only helped to increase the debate between you two.

Lena, who had walked outside the labs along with Supergirl to find out what was happening, became pretty interested in the discussion you were having. First, because she had never seen Winn fight with anyone like that and second, because she had never seen you before, and once her eyes were on you it was almost impossible to take them off.

"What are they talking about?" She asked Supergirl, imagining her super hearing could help her have a better grasp at the debate.

"Uh, something about giant robots?" Supergirl shrugged and smiled fondly at the scene. She had seen this kind of fight between the Schott siblings, and she knew this was the way you usually showed your affection to each other. "You never really know with those two."

"Who's that?" Lena asked.

"That's (Y/N), Winn's older sister."

"I didn't know Winn had a sister."

"Well, there she is." Supergirl smiled, noticing the way Lena looked at you. "She's great, I hope you get to meet her tonight."

"Tonight?" She raised her eyebrows.

"The Legion of Superheroes is leaving, and Winn along with them. We organized a little farewell party, so she came." Kara turned to see you and your brother still arguing. "You're staying for the party, right?"

"I don't know." Lena shrugged. "There's a lot I still have to do at L-Corp."

"Come on, Miss Luthor. I think you could use a little distraction too after all that has happened."

"I'll think about it." She said as she watched you two.

She could hear a bit more of what you were talking about. It was a really heated argument indeed about giant robots and the impossibility of creating such machines with the current technologies available. She could see, after a minute observing you, that this conversation was now just an excuse for you to annoy your brother. Every time Winn tried to make a valid point to his arguments you came with another equally valid. The fight couldn't seen to find an end, until J'onn came out of his office to talk you down.

"Agent Schott?" He stood in front of you both and Lena watched as you stood watching your brother trip over his words.

"Sir-I m-mean- J'onn!" He said.

"Is everything alright?" J'onn asked with a very paternal frown.

"I'm sorry, yes." You steeped out saving your brother the embarrassment Lena could see on your brother's red face. "My brother and I were just having a little discussion over practical armament. Also, I'm (Y/N) Schott, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, sir."

Lena watched as you smiled at him confidently, as if you were meeting an old friend instead of your brother's boss, and without noticing she smiled too. Then she saw J'onn take you and your brother to his office and with that you disappeared for a while. Lena imagined they had invited you to the party and the idea of staying a little longer didn't seem too bad.

Meanwhile, once J'onn got you in his office, he spoke with you and your brother about the current DEO situation. You had had an idea of what this visit was all about the moment Winn had invited you to come with him and, as J'onn kept talking, you finally got the whole reason why you were there. To join the DEO.

"Would you consider it at least?" J'onn asked after he stated the final proposition.

"Yes, she will." Winn looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "Right?"

"I'll think about it, sir." It was the only thing you said before leaving J'onn's office.

Once you were out you could sense your brother about to have some words with you, not believing you hadn't say yes right away to the possibility of working for the DEO, when J'onn opened his door again and called your brother for a private conversation and saved you the annoyance.

"We'll talk later." He said to you with a frown before leaving you.

You waved at him with a cheeky smile before he closed the door and you were then alone in the middle of the hallway not really knowing where to go or what to do. You decided to walk back to the lobby, thinking about the position J'onn had offered to you and how it hadn't been much of a surprise.

When Winn had called a few days ago, you could hear in his voice the sort of seriousness and solemnity that was reserved for the great moments and great tragedies. Like when your he had told you your father had escaped from prison or like when he told you he was joining a secret agency. So when he told you he was joining a team of superheroes from the future, you started to think about what it meant for you.

You didn't want to take his place as you knew it could be impossible to replace him but you also knew it was probably the only place were you would be able to check on him constantly and without further trouble. But Winn, being the brother he was, wasn't going to leave you all by yourself. He had probably been the one to suggest you took his place in the agency, first, to have someone as capable as him to assist his friends, second, to finally have all of his family in one place and, third, so you could have someone to rely on once he was gone. It was both a sweet and sad gesture and it made you realize how much you were going to miss him.

Thankfully, your mind found a little distraction while looking for the nearest exit.

The laboratories seemed to be abandoned as everyone else was preparing for the party and you glanced at something quite interesting inside of one of the rooms. You took a look at the hallway and considering you were alone you thought it wouldn't harm to peek a little. Inside, the room was illuminated by the artificial light and in the middle of it there was a work table with some kind of rock on display. At first, it didn't seem like much until you looked at the screens showing its molecular composition. You took the safety glasses that laid around and took a closer look at it.

"It isn't very polite to trespass inside someone else's lab." You barely flinched at the voice behind you and kept looking at the rock.

"Sorry, didn't mean to sneak upon your work but it looked pretty interesting." You took a step back from the table, took the glasses off and turned to see the person behind you.

"That's Harun-el. Krytonian mineral." The rock was instantly forgotten as she walked towards you with crossed arms and a little smile, and you were caught by her green eyes.

"Oh, wow, no wonder why Winn likes it in here." You said looking at her and then cleared your throat. "Uh, what does it do? Found anything about it yet?"

"Considering this is a highly secret agency and this a highly secret investigation, I can't say much, unfortunately." She pretended she didn't hear your first comment.

"Right, right, sorry again." You put the glasses back in the table. "Also, I don't think we have been introduced. I'm (Y/N) Schott."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Lena Luthor." She uncrossed her arms to shake the hand you were offering.

"Are you serious?" You replied with raised eyebrows. "I'm a, uh, big fan, by the way."

"Thank you, (Y/N)." You saw her smile and were grateful she kept talking to you. Lena herself felt her cheeks turn a bit red at your compliment. It was hard to imagine how someone like you could like her.

"So, you are here often? I mean, you work for the DEO?" You asked.

"Yes and no. I assist the DEO in some cases. I do not work for them." She turned to look at the Harun-el. "What about you? You came to work for the agency?"

"No, I guess I just come to say goodbye to my brother. But I haven't decided yet."

"Oh, that's sad." She said looking at you with curiosity. "I might have been open to share some details of my investigation, seeing as you're interested in it."

"If you put it that way, I might also have a very compelling reason to accept the job offer but...I would be more interested in sharing a drink with you, Miss Luthor." You thought for a moment about your words and finished with a little smile. "If you were interested, of course."

"Well, first you have to accept the job, right?" You watched as she walked outside the lab. "And I hope this isn't the last time we talk."

You followed a step behind. "Aren't you staying for the party, Miss Luthor?"

"Maybe not for this one." She stopped for a second to consider it. "But if you have a welcome party, I'll think about it." She turned to smile at you and turned around keeping her pace.

As you watched her go, you decided working for the DEO wasn't such a bad idea. You could check on your brother from time to time, and the job offer wasn't so bad. And of you had the change to work with Lena Luthor, what else could you ask for?

[project-rebirth]

Top 6 Kinoverse ships

This is quite an unexpected post from here don’t you think? Well don’t worry, you’re not the only one to think so.

Usually, at least for me, Ships have always been a secondary priority on this blog so I never really put as much focus on them as some others normally would, however, I feel as though they are important enough in their own right, especially when some of the more interesting storylines of certain characters have been built up as a result of the ships that are currently here, or are in deveopment, which makes one better appreciate them overall.

Today, we’re going to be taking a look at  6 of the ships I am fond of, or have been more prominent than some others. Some ships may not have the characters officially together yet, but will lean heavily towards that direction as their story progresses.

6. Rosalia x Bowen ( @tetsuwan-atom​ )

One of the earliest ships to be made in the Kinoverse, we have a powerful sorceress who can travel to most any place in the Multi-Universe and a guy who pretty much does the same thing for a science based organization. Since Raildex is the main setting for the Kinoverse, I like the fact that we have two people on the opposite ends of the spectrum, (that being Magic and Science) get along so well. Truly, these two embody the phrase, “When Sicence and Magic Cross Paths, a Story is Born!”

Admittedly, my musing for Rose has been low as of late, hence why she doesn’t make that many appearances as much as she used to, and I’m still trying to figure out her own backstory and whatnot, but when she does appear, I truly enjoy the interactions she has with Bowen, and mostly how he reveres her like she’s a queen lol. And who can blame him? She’s got the looks, she has the charisma, (something I wanted to explore a bit in  the “Genesis Timeline” but I digress), and she also has a Childish side to her, which comes in the forms of the pranks she pulls on others, mainly Kamijou for some reason. Overall, I hope that there are more interactions between them in the future that is to come! These two are dimension hoppers and lovers, so there’s plenty of things to do as far as spin off stories are concerned!

5. Shido x Sayo ( @crystalmelodies​ )

This one is another favorite of mine, solely because of how Shido is basically attached to her. When I think about it, Shido has had the most dramatic changes in his character thus far, from being Aogami Pierce 2.0 to becoming someone more rigid, Shido has finally found someone that he genuinely cares for and will do anything to protect, he went through great lengths to save Sayo when she was fated to disappear as an angel and ever since then he’s become protective of her. In some occasions, whenever Sayo is gone for an extended period of time, he goes into worried dad mode/edgy mode and looks all over for her, only to feel totally silly when she returns and is fine, which i hilarious and kind of sad when looking at it more deeply.

Sayo is basically the only person in his life that he has at the moment, and there in lies a fear of, “what if she vanishes again” and that fear of losing her in one way or another is always in the back of his head. It’s also why he’s gone off the deep end as of late with something else that’s influencing him (but we will see how that goes if that becomes a future arc). Overall, their interactions are very wholesome when they do happen and its nice to see both of then happy together. Now we just need Shido to get snapped out of his dark lord phase so we can have more happy moments with theeeemmmmmm!

4. Touma x Lucia (crystalmelodies)

Another ship I am interested in seeing, even though the two have not gotten together, let alone confessed to each other, is Kamijou Touma & Nanami Lucia.

Here we have Kamijou Touma, the guy who has met an untold number of girls in his adventures from all walks of life, as per the “Kami-Yan disease” that his classmates call it, with a girl who seems as ordinary as they come, though in reality that isn’t the case. So what’s noteworthy about this particular pairing?

Well, a few reasons, but mainly its the fact that at first glance, Lucia is an ordinary girl that lives in a quiet seaside town devoid of crazy technology, and Espers that the metropolis known as Academy City has, so I’m quite fond of the idea of “An Average High School Boy You can Find  Anywhere” being paired with a person that’s “An Average Girl You can Find Anywhere” that the two seem to represent. Not only that, but they both get along quite well and there has been hints, at least on Kamijou’s end that he has somewhat of an interest in her.

From Kamijou’s point of view, she differs from the other girls that he is antiquated with in the fact that she’s one of the very few people that doesn’t appear to react Violently whenever he gets thrown into a misfortune event. She also differs from the others in the fact that she is a “regular person” whereas the other girls have been everything from Espers, to Magicians, to Saints (Superhuman Magicians), and even Gods themselves, so the fact that he has met someone who not only tolerates his misfortune, but appears to be so far removed from the crazy sides of the world that he’s been constantly thrown into.

of course, we know that Lucia is not an ordinary human; she’s a Mermaid, a Princess, and a Magical Girl? It would be interesting to see how Kamijou reacts to finding out that not only is she all of these, but her circle of friends are as well and related. Overall, even if he found out about that, he wouldn’t see her any differently than he already does - because he would still see her as his friend, even if she were a Goddess. If she was in trouble or sad, he would definitely come running to her side.

On a side note, in the Genesis Timeline, he also showed interest in her Mermaid Persona, something that is also true for the Rebirth Timeline, so it will also be interesting to see how he reacts to finding out that Human Lucia and Mermaid Lucia are the same entity. For the time being though, this will be somewhat of a slow burner as Kamijou plans to wake her up from her coma as well as deal with his internal issues regarding his self worth, the identity crisis he has as a result of the destruction of his memories from Index OT 1, and the PTSD he has from being killed by Othinus to damn near infinity. These two will certainly be in for quite a ride as time goes on.

3. Zarama/Zelreich x Artemis ( @averageisms​ )

When Zarama was conceived as the primary Antagonist for the second half of the Genesis Timeline, he was originally going to be this power hungry tyrant that saw the universes and everyone within it as his servants, however, as I began to develop him further and better develop his motives, he eventually became a complex character that could be a villain that you can both hate and somewhat sympathize, given the back story that I had originally given him and what he was trying to do overall throughout Genesis Order. He was one of the characters I least expected to become shipped with someone, yet here we are, with it becoming among the top 3 ships I have.

There’s something about this particular pairing that has me coming back to it every time. It’s interesting to see how this powerful being who is so far removed from humanity, has taken an interest in the most human/average person you can find out there, which makes this reminiscent of something you would see in a Disney film or some supernatural drama. In the old timeline, Zarama’s  attachment to Artemis mostly comes from the fact that he has been around beings who were so far removed from humanity for eons upon eons, that meeting someone who was normal was a breath of fresh air for him - someone who was uncorrupted by the supernatural and just wanted to have someone to come back home to.

In the rebirth timeline, Zarama is decidedly different as a character overall, as while he is not really a god like he was before, but rather a curious immortal that travels the Multi-Universe to study abstract concepts like The Essence and Bio-Energy as well as various magics. His attachment to her stems from the fact that for ages, he has wanted a companion that would remain at his side, as he knows the pain of isolation that his immortality brings and he feels a similar loneliness inside of her for different reasons. Yet he’s made an oath that he would never abandon her in the same way others have abandoned her.

This iteration of Zarama hasn’t gone down the dark path that his Genesis Timeline counterpart went through and doesn’t have some grand plan to save all of creation. He’s instead more focused on his research as well as just being with Artemis, as he sees her as the one his heart has been seeking for a very long time. Overall, I enjoy the interactions they both have and I can’t wait to see how this pairing further develops.

2. Makoto x Grete ( crystalmelodies )

At number 2, we have one of the more newer pairings in the form of Makoto and Grete.

This one is interesting because of how far we were willing to see Makoto go in order to ensure her happiness and safety. Ever since he saw that vision of her during the first week of their meeting, an attatchment has been formed between them, with Makoto wanting give her the happiness that had been stolen from her. Even though he was a bit caught off guard when she practically confessed to him, Makoto’s feelings for Grete wasnt fully realized until he was taken away to Academy City, where he came to realize that he had indeed developed some sort of feelings for her.

Although it wasn’t written, during Makoto’s final moments in Academy City, we would have seen him face off against Kamijou Touma and how he was willing to become a reprehensible person in order to ensure his future with Grete, which would have been interesting given how Grete is practically similar in that regard. Kamijou would have given him the question of if Grete would really be proud of the things he was doing in her name, asking that would she really be content with smiling by his side, knowing that he had hurt people along the way, which causes his resolve to waver a bit. Makoto would then go onto say that as long as MINUS has their hooks on them, then he had no choice but to be a villain. What would have transpired next would be Kamijou declaring that he will save Makoto from this darkness and return him to Grete’s side, and he would do so by destroying the Illusions that he was holding onto.

After that grueling fist fight, Kamijou would carry Makoto over to Academy City’s warehouse district where he would have Rosalia and her maid take him out the city and return him to the life he was take whisked away from, giving him a new found hope and resolve to being at Grete’s side. Now Makoto has to deal with the aftermath of his disappearance, and that means he will be staying by her side even more and to make sure that he never suddenly vanishes from her life like that again.

I really like this pairing, and I hope to see this develop more and see where it goes, because the story behind it, from his Makoto’s Precognition Ability, to his defeat and salvation at the hands of Kamijou Touma, and the possibility that Makoto and Grete may be long lost childhood friends, as it has been hinted at at least twice before!

1. Accelerator x Violent Violet ( @xbloodsoakedx​ )

I think we know by now this was obvious. After all, it is the most popular pairing in the Kinoverse so far, and the most active.

Initially, I wasn't that crazy about it due to a myriad of factors, both in-universe and out of universe that had my mind not in the right place, however as time grew I grew to appreciate this pairing and the wildness that comes with it. Accelerator was one of the muses who I least expected to get paired with someone due to his personality, but surprisingly, he and Violet complement each other quite well. You have two of the strongest people in the verse who have gone through some similar things in their past, mainly how they were experimented on to become the powerhouses that they are now today.

Although Accelerator isn’t keen on showing affection most of the time, he definitely cares about her and came to realize just how much she has changed his life, similar to Last Order. He sees her as more than just a lover, he sees her as part of his “family” whether or not he would openly admit such. We see this in how he reacts to Violet vanishing for a week during the Shura Arc and how determined he becomes to save her from the darkness that she was pulled into. You also have the fact that this came after Last Order had been kidnapped herself, so Accelerator at this point is tired of people targeting everyone that was close to him, a development we will see as the story moves forward with his desire of wanting to protect that family of his, be it Last Order, Violet, the two older women who are his “guardians” Worst, and the MISAKA Network Clones.

Something that’s also noticeable in Accelerators casual interactions with Violet is how he can be such a tsundere, in that Violet likes to cuddle and kiss him, yet despite looking displeased, he lets her  do what she wants, similar to how he lets Last Order pester him. I think Violet and Last Order are the only ones who can get away with calling Accelerator a Tsundere lol

Ultimately, It’s thanks to this connection she has formed with Accelerator that she has blended into the city of bizarre science so well. Last Order was not initially fond of Violet, believing her to be a bad influence on Accelerator but that quickly changed and is now attached to her as she is to Accelerator, while Worst, Yoshikowa and Yomikowa were genuinely welcoming of her presence for differing reasons, but all can agree that they can tease Accelerator about Violet whenever the moment arises.

In the Genesis Timeline, Violet became a celebrity of sorts in Academy City, and you can expect the same thing to happen in the Rebirth Timeline, with many people taking an interest in her for varying reasons. Overall, this is certainly a pairing you want to keep your eyes on as the story progresses.

That also reminds me, two of the Three heroes are now in relation ships. Hamazura Shiage is with Takitsubo Rikou and Accelerator is with Violet, leaving Touma to have to contend with being single yet also having the world’s largest harem while being totally unaware of it. This can change though...once he wakes up a certain mermaid lol

And there you have it. 6 ships I enjoy in the Kinoverse. There may be others that I missed or neglected to include, but these are the main ones that have been on my mind when it comes to this topic. Will there be more? Possibly in the future, but for now, this is it!

[cameronspecial]

King of CSCC (Prologue)

Pairing: Rich Kid! Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: When Y/N gets a scholarship to attend Collegialiter Schola Currere Cucurri, a prestigious boarding school in England. She’s very studious and organizes, everything needs to be a certain way for her to be happy. Tom is the resident fuckboy at school and,  with his daddy being the richest man on earth, he practically owns the school. What happens when Tom falls completely in love with Y/N, but she doesn’t want to be with him because of his reputation.

Words: 2 159

Y/N stands in front of the massive brick building with beautifully and neatly done cobblestone tiles on the roof. From where she stands, Y/N could see that two big towers and two smaller ones are attached to the main building of the school. To her left, a soccer field and to her right, a rugby field with an outdoor running track. Behind the soccer field, she could see a big rectangle building that, from what she read about the school, must be the school’s gymnasium. Y/N couldn’t believe that she is actually here in front of Collegialiter Schola Currer Cucurri which is Latin for something she couldn’t remember anymore. It’s the best school in the world, the only people that could attend the school are the elite, rich and famous, but once every year, the school awards a scholarship that covers everything (laundry, meal plane, books, uniform, etc) to one lucky student going into their 11th school year. The chosen student has to be the best and brightest out of all the applicants and this year, it just so happened to be Y/N L/N. She has been working her whole life for this and now her dreams for a better future are finally coming true. Her home life in Toronto wasn’t the best in terms of education. She didn’t learn enough at the public school she went to, so when she saw the opportunity to attend the most prestigious boarding school in the world, she jumped at the chance to apply. It also helped that she’s always wanted to live in England. She finally manages to shake off her nerves and walks into the school.

Upon entering the school, Y/N notices how much cleaner and how the equipment is so much better than what she had back at home. The hallways were empty seeing as it was the Saturday before school started, so she is all alone in the school. After a few minutes, she manages to find her way to the principal’s office while struggling to bring all of her bags with her at the same time. The new student gently arranges her bags near the door to make sure they are not in the way, then she lifts her hand to the door and knocks. “You may enter,” an authoritative voice instructs her. Y/N enters to see a middle-aged woman sitting at her desk looking over some documents with her glasses balancing off of her nose. The older woman looks up at the sound of the door closing and motions for Y/N to sit on one of the chairs in front of her desk, “You must be Miss. L/N, our scholarship winner.” Y/N nods her head to show her agreement, she isn’t going to lie, but she is a little intimidated by the principal. “Alright, classes start on Monday at 9:00 a.m. sharp. Miss. Daniels should already be at the front office waiting for you. She’ll be your guide for the day. Here is your schedule and some other information you might need. If you have any questions, then you may ask Miss. Daniels and I would also like to inform you that if your marks slip even by a percent that you will lose your scholarship. Is that clear?” Ms. Sinclair informs the pupil. “Yes,” Y/N answers quietly because she’s slightly terrified with how cold the principal seems. “Good, you may address me as Ms. Sinclair and nothing else. You are dismissed,” Ms. Sinclair demands. Y/N quickly gets out of her chair and goes towards the door.

Y/N grabs her bags a little bit more easily now that she knows how to handle all of them and makes her way back towards the front of the school where she saw the front office. When she gets to the front of the school, she notices a girl around her age waiting in front of the office. The teen notices Y/N approaching and immediately rushes to help her with a smile on her face.  “Hi, you must be Y/N L/N. I am Delilah Daniels and I’ll be your tour guide. I’ll give you a tour of campus, then I can help you move into your dorm if you’d like. You don’t have to worry about your bags, I’ll call the concierge to come get them and bring them to your room. Now, the first stop is going to be the science labs where you bio and chemistry,” Delilah introduces herself. Y/N notices that Delilah has a British accent that is as smooth as butter.  The girls place the bags near the entrance and shake each other’s hands, “I am Y/N. Nice to meet you. And the science lab sounds like a great start.” Delilah makes a quick call to the concierge, then they walk down the hall to the left and up the stairs to her biology lab. “Now, upstairs to the left is the science wing, so you have all the science labs up here. Your bio lab is in room 203 and your chemistry lab is in room 220,” Delilah starts off, “Let’s head over to where you are going to be taking geometry and algebra, which is on upstairs on the right side of the also known as the mathematics wing. This term you’re only taking geometry, algebra, biology, and math. Next term you’re taking media arts, English literature, French, and psychology, right?” Y/N nods along to what Delilah says, “That seems right. Your last names Daniels right? As in your parents are Anna and Maurice Daniels, Daniels? They own practically every chain hotel I can think of.” “Yep, those are my old folks. They could be a little hectic and gone, but they have always been there for me when I need them and I know they love me. That’s all that really matters, right? So what do your parents do for a living? You live in Toronto right?” Delilah questions the new girl. “Yeah, I do. My mom works as a social worker, she tries to help kids in the system. My dad is a baker, we actually live on top of the bakery he owns. My little sister and brother always like to head down to the bakery at the end of the day and steal whatever leftovers are left. Do you have any siblings?” Y/N explains. “No, I am an only child. It gets a little lonely sometimes, but that’s alright. I would love to live over a bakery! The smell of freshly baked pastries would waft into the house and it could smell like freshly baked croissants every day. The math wing is just around the corner,” Delilah rants a little as they head over to the math wing.

When they rounded the corner, two other people were rounding the corner at the same time. A collision would have happened, but Y/N’s quick reflexes stopped them from crashing. In front of the two girls were two boys about their age wearing Versace, Prada, Gucci, and some other clothing brands that Y/N could never dream about owning. The boy on the left is taller than the boy on the right, he has dirty blonde hair and clear blue eyes. He’s handsome, but the boy on the right is the show stopper for Y/N. He has dark chestnut brown hair that matches his eyes. His nose is a little cricked and his lips are a little thin, but she liked how the nose made him look rugged and how his lips still looked perfect to kiss. His jaw looks so sharp that she believes is she were to run her finger along it she would cut it. No matter how badly the young girl wanted to go on a date with him, she knew about who he is and what his reputation is. He’s the infamous Tom Holland or as the tabloids like to call him, Holland the Lady Killer. His motto is hit then quit it and that really isn’t what Y/N is looking for. “Hey, just who we were looking for! I told Haz that you’d be showing the scholar bee around the school. You’ve always loved to meet new people. Thought we’d come join you seeing as this year’s scholar bee is a female and not another boring ass dude. So does the little lady have a name?” Tom inquires slyly as he makes his way over to Delilah and slings his hand around her neck. “My names Y/N. What’s it matter to you?” She snarls not liking what he said at all. “Damn, you got a mouth on you. I like a girl who isn’t afraid to talk back. Well, I guess it’s my turn to introduce. I am Tom and this div beside me is Harrison,” Tom tries to say in the most charming voice he could. Y/N just scoffs and keeps walking, “Whatever. Nice to meet you, Harrison. Now, let’s head over to the mathematics wing.” “Looks like we finally found someone who can resist Tommy’s charm,” Haz whispers to his two comrades as they follow Y/N down the hall.

After finishing the tour of the campus, the four newly acquainted friends headed over to Y/N’s dorm so that they could help her unpack. “Okay, everything is labelled clearly so it shouldn’t be too hard trying to figure out where everything should go,” Y/N elucidates while tying her hair back and picking up one of the boxes that was labelled closet- Hoodies and Shirts. Everyone went to work on cleaning out the boxes while they worked they talked, reminisce about old stories, joked around, and listened to some music. Symphony by Clean Bandit played on her phone and Y/N started swaying to the music. “I’ve been hearing symphonies before all I heard was silence. A rhapsody for you and me, and every melody is timeless,” she sang as she organized the books onto her bookshelf. Tom looks up from the clothes he was folding for her and stares in awe of her voice. To him, she sounded like an angel and all he wanted to do is listen to her sing all day. He may not have noticed it, but the whole afternoon he found himself noticing little things that he liked about her and he just wanted to be closer to him. He liked how she had all these random facts and how she could joke about anything and everything. He liked how organized she is and how she hasn’t fawned over her this whole afternoon. Y/N places the final book onto the shelf and looks over at everyone, “Alright, I can finish putting the clothes away after dinner. Why don’t we get something to eat? I read on the board that it’s taco night.” Everyone voiced their agreement and started to make their way over to the door, but before Y/N could leave, Tom gently tapped her on the shoulder and asked if he could talk to her. “Sure,” she tells him. Tom stands straight and fixes his jacket nervously, “I was wondering if we could restart. I know, I was a jackass, but I would really like to be friends with you. Plus, I know you, Deli, and Haz get along well and I really don’t feel like being kicked out of my own friend group.” Y/N smiles at Tom to show him that everything is alright. “Tommy, it's fine. Sometimes people start off on the wrong foot and that’s fine. Let’s start, over. Hey, I am Y/N. I don’t believe I got your name,” Y/N says nicely as she sticks her hand out for Tom to shake. He chuckles and takes her hand, “It’s Tom, Tom Holland. You may have heard of me. My dad owns the world’s best phone company as well as several other companies you may have heard of.” “Okay, now you just sound like cocky. How about we just head over to the mess hall and call it a day?” Y/N suggest as how she links their arms and walks off to the mess hall.

When dinner was over, Y/N was feeling a little jet-lagged so she headed back to her dorm to get some sleep while the other three decided to head to the game room. They were playing pool when Harrison decided to bring up the conversation. “So you and Y/N…” he wonders out loud as he aims the queue at one of the balls. Tom leans on the wall and retorts, “Nothing is going on between us. We are just friends that’s all.” Delilah snorts and laughs, “Yeah, right! I noticed your side glances at her, but I’ll let you deny whatever you want if it helps you sleep at night.” Tom just shakes his and continues the game without mentioning Y/N again, but that night when he was trying to get to sleep all he could do was think back to the conversation they had in the game room and Y/N’s angelic singing voice.

--------

I hope you guys enjoyed and I would love to hear what you guys thought!

Taglist:  @bookgirlunicorn  @itsjstz  @rachaeldonnaspiteri1  @madithemagicalfangirl  @glcssyholland  @marisophie  @truestrengths @mjsholland @iwastornsincethestart @saltysebastianstan @loxbbg @linnyalou @scoobieboobiedoo

[boogiewrites]

Reports & Repertoire 20: Death & Life

Characters: Eddie Brock x Venom x Candace Miller (OFC)

Summary:  The final chapter. Candy faces the consequences of her actions. Life and Death make things a lot clearer somehow... if you can come out on the other side.

Warnings/Tags: Violence. Death. (BUT FLUFF and a happy ending.) Hope you like it. <3 

Click on my icon then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters.

Candy lives a half-life for a little while. Defeated fully and looking over her shoulder. A break comes when someone else manages to release an article on the spree of Roofies and disappearances in the city and all the possible connections. It wasn’t much, there were no names, no fingers pointed or anyone blamed. But it was something and she’d needed a win, no matter how small it may have been.

Eddie was relieved, and so was Venom to a degree. Although he was still steadfast on being able to protect everyone, he was glad Eddie felt better. It allowed for the extra energy he spent being anxious to no longer be used up and therefore not make Venom as ravenous all the time. Edgier meant more food and Eddie was never in the mood to let Venom take control and have his fun. But now everyone had settled back into a nice pattern. Something… normal. As far as normal for them went.

A week later with the air clear and Venom fed, they go out for the evening. Something fun and light and intimate. It was fall now, a comfort in the upcoming holidays and the jitters of her secretly asking him to meet her parents after telling him something she should have long ago. Venom knew it, but telling Eddie and his bumbling nature had been hard. So Candy planned on telling him exactly how she felt that night. To let it all out and tell him what he meant to her, as a friend, a partner, a lover. To let him know she saw him in her future, and to ask him if he saw her in his.

Any serious discussions no matter how welcome and joyous they might be were far from Eddie's mind. They walked through the carnival like children with sticky mouths and hands full of candy when they weren’t in each other’s grasp. A laugh-filled trip through a haunted house, a stuffed Alpaca Eddie got way too into winning her and spent entirely too much money on goes home with them too. 

They sit at the back patio, Candy's head on his shoulder, arms wrapped around one another and Venom quietly waiting in the wings. Fireworks from downtown we’re going off, a crispness to the air could be felt and in each other’s arms was the only place they wanted to be. 

A ring at the door separates them. “That’ll be dinner! Didn’t take them long. Thought with the traffic from the festival it’d take longer.” She says with a pleasantly surprised look on her face.

“These explosions are aesthetically pleasing. Like the ones in July to celebrate the birth of America.”

“I see you paid attention.” Eddie nods approvingly, kicked back with a beer in his hand.

“I always pay attention.” He retorts. “Eddie.” Venom's tone and sudden stiffness brings a cool rush down Eddie's spine.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie whispers, feeling the tension.

————

Candy trots towards the door in her pajamas, bare feet soaking up the cool wood in the house.

“Candy?” A man asks as she opens the door.

“Yeah, do I need to tip you here or on the app?” She asked, fumbling with her phone. 

“We tried to give you a tip but you didn’t listen.”

Her hair stands on end and her eyes shoot up wide and afraid. And they should’ve been. The man is holding a gun. “What do you want?” She whispers with a serious face and tone. Every muscle in her body was tense. She didn’t even breathe. 

“All you have to do is stop. Just shut the fuck up about it. Stop trying to save the day Nancy Drew, this shit doesn’t fly in the real world. You shut up and it goes away.” he waves the gun around as he speaks.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. What you’re doing is wrong.” There are tears in her eyes for too many reasons to name. She’d had self-defense classes. She could get the gun, yell for Eddie and this would be over. The seconds felt  like hours as they say in life or death moments. 

“I’ll say it again. You shut up. And it goes away. I have to give you your final warning.” He extends his arm, gun pointed down and Candy sees her moment. She tries to get in close and gain control, but the man had an itchy trigger finger. It slipped, him only being a messenger to scare her into silence. But it backfired. For everyone. 

————-

“The door.” Is all Venom says before he encases Eddie. He was faster than Eddie could be and took in the scene in front of him with quicker decision making.

Candy was on the floor and bleeding with multiple gunshots to her torso. A man staring in the doorway in horror at them with a gun in his hand. As Eddie screams inside the cage of goo, Venom eats the attacker without a second thought. Now there was no man.

Candy cries out, back against the wall as she reaches out for them. “Eddie…” She wheezes and holds her chest. 

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” He was never good at hiding his emotions when it came to worry for those he cared about. 

“I... they…”

“Shhh, don’t speak. I’m calling the ambulance.” He fumbles and drops his phone into the rapidly growing pool of blood from underneath her. 

“Eddie.” Venom says, tendrils moving down his hands as they touch Candy's pulse points.

“Eddie I-“  her eyes flutter as he cries and groans in fear, his phone continually slipping from his fingers as she sighs out his name, rapidly losing consciousness.

“Shhh shh we’ve got you baby. Don’t worry. I’ll call- SHIT!”

“Eddie she won’t make it.” Venom calmly states even though it helps nothing. 

“We have to DO something we just can’t. FUCK!” His voice breaks and he holds her face as he cries. 

Her head rests in his hand and she smiles for him, her vision tunneling. “Eddie I l-“ 

“Shhh save your energy Candy. Baby, I’ve got you.”

“Eddie I can help but… we have to separate.”

“What?”

“I can’t bond with her. I can try. To heal her, save her.”

He sees her go limp in his grasp and he sobs, hunched over and shaking. “Do it please just- FUCK!” He screeches and shakes her. “Save her, man!”

A warm embrace she finds herself in. Only the thought of “Eddie, I love you. I’m sorry.” In her mind. It’s all Venom hears as he takes her over, connecting to her every fiber and cell as he heals the wounds.

Eddie is left in his own personal hell as Venom works. He’s alone. Utterly for the first time in what felt like forever. There was no voice in his head but his own, and despite not holding the symbiote, his body had never felt heavier or harder to function. Candy lay lifeless, as  Eddie sobbed and held her, choking out please, feeling helpless in the puddle of blood on the floor. If Venom had brought him back, surely he could help her.

———-

“She’ll live.” Venom says, a sluggish head forming from her shoulder and plopping onto Eddie's head. 

Eddie can’t answer. He’s too busy sobbing into her hair to speak, he only nods and pulls Venom into his embrace.

 “The superficial wounds are closed. I’m working on her heart now. It’ll be slow. Very intricate, human organs. Lots of blood to make.” He says weakly. “Wash her, take her to bed. Get us chocolate. Something. Need. Energy.” He hisses as he sinks back into her. 

Eddie does as he’s told. Stripping them both and showering them off, leaving the bloody clothes on the shower floor. He puts her in bed, shorts and a hoodie of his she knows he likes. He touches her so gently, and she feels it, in a way. Venom tells her Eddie has her, and they’ll make sure everything’s okay. 

Eddie left to deal with keeping the blood hidden as the food arrived. He looked a mess, red-faced and puffy-eyed but luckily the young guy didn’t seem to care. He forgets the food and tosses it in the fridge. Locking everything and now to the task of cleaning up the blood. 

He’s never cleaned up a body’s worth of blood before. Towels were no help and paper was too weak. He gathers it all into a pile, slouching it into a garbage bag. He throws their now soaked and blood-stained clothes in as well and tries to make the place looked decent. He can’t do much for the blood spatter on the light-colored walls but, paint could fix that later right? 

He falls exhausted into the bed next to her. He watches her breathing, color back in her face now that had been a ghastly white. “Is she...in pain?” He asks, feeling the tiredness take over his muscles as he tries to push back her hair and hold her hand. 

“No.” Venom quietly answers. “Not physical.”

“Good.” He nods. “Wait, what does that mean?” He double-takes.

“She is distraught. Emotionally.”

“She DID almost die.”

“Yes. She understands. And wants me to tell you she knows who it was.” 

“WHAT?” His brow furrows and his eyes go wide, his weak and human body ready to defend her anyway. 

“It was a message. The men she was trying to expose. They found out it was her. A snitch she presumes from the tone, she says.”

“Can she hear me?” He asks. 

“No. But I can talk to her for you if you wish. She has many things to say.”

“Like what? About the guys who shot her?”

“No. About you.”

“Me? What about me? What’d I do? What does she need?”

“You. Just you.” Venom’s voice reflects the loving nature of her request. “What she wants to say is that she loves you. What she won’t admit is she wants to marry you. She doesn’t want to leave you as much as she doesn’t want you to leave her. She loves us Eddie. Us.” A weak sigh as he feels it all so intensely in the new body. 

“She… loves us?”

“Very much so. She was going to tell us tonight. Tell you tonight. Wants us in her future. To… meet her parents she says.”

“I’ll do anything she wants.” He laughs and kisses her forehead. “I’ll marry her as soon as she can stand if she would. I love her. Tell her I love her so much. I thought I’d lost her and I’ll never let her get hurt again. I’m so sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. You warned her, she says. And you were right.” 

“Are you sure that’s her saying that?” Eddie laughs and kisses her cheek.

“She thought you’d say that.” Venom ripples happily at the love he was being sent. “You should ask her to marry you. After this has passed. I didn’t mention that part to her. She loves us. She will say yes.”

“I need a ring.” He says with rapidly moving eyes. “But we can do that right?”

“Yes we can.” Venom trills happily. 

———

Venom totally healed Candy. Not so much as a bit of bacteria out of place when he leaves her. She awakes in her bed with a gasp and Eddie sitting upright beside her.

“Hey baby, it’s okay. We’re here. You’re good. Take it easy.” He rushes out as he holds her head and chest steady. 

“Eddie I was… I thought I was dead there for a minute.” She speaks softly and takes his hand with wide eyes.

“You were. But Venom fixed you. Good as new. Not a stitch out of place now.” He tells her proudly. 

“Eddie.. I…” She feels exhausted but really good otherwise. Like she’s been hit with a truck but then injected with adrenaline.  She lunges forward and wraps her arms around his neck. “I almost didn’t get to tell you I loved you. And I do. So much.” She whines into his neck and he holds her back just as tightly with a soft smile as he kisses her head. 

“I love you too. The most. So much. You’re not going anywhere Candy. I’ve got you.”

“I don’t think he meant to kill me.” She says with a stark change in tone. “I think it was a warning. He would’ve shot me in the head otherwise.”

“Shhh. We don’t have to talk about it yet.”

“That was…” She lets out a sigh and slumps, letting him direct her against his chest as he leaned back in the bed. 

“You’re okay now. Just rest for a minute.” He shushes her and she accepts it. 

“She is right. Her logic is on point. The angle, the weapon and words… all point to a warning and not a hit.”

“Venom we don’t have to-“

“See?” She mutters into his chest.

“Perhaps if we… lay low. Stop prying…” Venom reluctantly suggests.

“He’s right. I’m so sorry for risking it. For putting us all in danger.”

“S’alright Candy.” Eddie insists with a kiss to her head once again. Her hair soft and fluffy from the bath he’d given her. “If that’s true then… we can rest now, right? Take it easy. Just… us. Not take this for granted?”

“You’re right. We work too hard. I miss you too much. I need you Eddie. All the time.” She says weakly and squeezes his torso as he pouts and returns the affection. “Move in with me. Stay here. I’ll take time off work, so can you. We can hideaway. We can catch up for lost time and just… exist.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I love you and I want you around. I want you to meet my parents. I want you involved in my life, Eddie. I want you here. With me.”

“Then I will. Don’t have to convince me. I’m already sold.” He gives her a soft smile and she kisses him unexpectedly in response. 

“I love you.” She whispers and holds him tight. 

“I love you too. We’ll figure it all out. I’ll move in. We’ll take some time off.”

“I feel like I’ve been away for a year. I feel like I miss you so much and you’re right here.”

“I was here the whole time. Never leaving your side  Candy, don’t ever question it.”

————-

With every bit of confidence they could muster, Candy and Eddie walked into their boss ' offices and said they were taking some time

off. Whenever someone asked, personal reasons was the answer given and due to their contracts, they weren’t left with too much of a choice in the matter.  

A month. An entire month of just them. They huddled up in their little home. Like bunnies, they snuggled, fucked, ate, napped and played. With sight of what was important, everything was lighter, clearer and nothing had ever felt so right. She felt like she'd gotten a second chance, and it was all Venom's doing. She was eternally in debt to him and Eddie. Their long nights and days spent together let her think about what was most important outside of a career. What did she want to leave behind and still do that she had been pushing back in the name of work? It was time to prioritize. 

--------------------

They didn’t leave the house for four whole weeks. They did nothing but enjoy each other in every way they knew how. And with a few nights left of their getaway, Eddie knew exactly how to finalize the best few weeks of his life.

“Keep your eyes closed alright? Just trust me.”

“I do.” She replies happily as she covers them with her hands. He’s taken her downtown and showed her off, fed her the best food money could buy and they got to remember what being around civilized people was like. They much preferred the sanctuary of their home. They laughed a little too loud, kissed a little long for everyone else’s taste. But no one else mattered anymore. 

So as the night moved into early morning, a walk through the architecture of downtown skyscrapers, hand in hand, he stops her at the foot of one. This one being the tallest of them all. And thus having the best view. If you knew how to get there.

She feels an odd whoosh, a rush of air that goes on for a minute but she keeps still, keeps her eyes shut as she feels Venom's embrace. She feels her feet on solid ground again, and she's thankful for it. 

“Okay. Open your eyes but STAY CALM okay? You’re fine. I promise. Venoms wrapped around you, we’re both fine.”

“Are you convincing me or yourself?” She asks with a nervous laugh as she uncovers her eyes but keeps them shut. 

“Uh… a little of both?” His voice breaks and she finds his hand and takes it.

She opens her eyes and her arm reaches for Venom's tight grip around her waist. They were at the base of the needle at the top of the building. Only enough room to stand, she’s left to gawk as she realizes she’s safe. 

“Oh my god.” She whispers, taking in the breathtaking view. Everything seemed so far away, the lights and sounds so concentrated at ground level seemed like faint melodies and twinkling stars up so high. “It’s… this is beautiful.” Her eyes can’t leave the sight as her hand stays firm in his and wrapped in Venom's body. 

“This view was the beginning of me learning to love earth.” Venom adds.

“I can see why.” She shares the sentiment.

“I now know it’s the humans. Like Eddie. Like you. That make it worth staying.”

“You’re very sweet Venom, thank you.” She strokes his happily rippling mass.

“I wanted to give you something no one else could.” Eddie takes her full attention. “I know there’s only so much I can do, and I’m not… we’re not what you planned to be with but, we’re thankful every day that you are.”

She smiles and pouts slightly before Venom brings them chest to chest. “Eddie, baby, you’re more than I could’ve ever hoped for.” She insists with a kiss to his cheek.

“And so are you. You’re, everything to me. Everything I wanna be, everything I’m not. You.. you complete me Candy and I don’t wanna go back to being alone. Not without Venom, not without you. I want you to stay. I wanna make sure you stay.” He insists with hands to her cheeks that surprise her, intensity and fear she wasn’t used to seeing in Eddie. 

Venom swirls up her arm, tiny tendrils taking her hand and holding a ring that shone as bright as the city lights below.

“I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, Candy Miller. Would you do that for me? Would you marry me?” He asks with hopeful eyes that make her chest ache at the thought he might believe even for a second she’d say no.

“I’ll stay with you beyond that.” She promised and kisses him softly. “Of course I’ll marry you.” She laughs against his lips. A warm embrace against the cold winds up so high. A kiss that faded and turned into happy sighs as they caressed each other’s faces in excitement. “You’ve made my life absolutely insane.” She laughs, “But I couldn’t stand it without you now. Without you both.”

“We love you Candy.” Venom almost sings and wraps himself around her head to nuzzle her in the form of a slug-like round head. 

“I love you boys.” She lets out a huge sigh and Eddie beams at her. It went perfectly. She was perfect. It was all so… perfect.

“It will be perfect.” Venom whispers into his head. 

Eddie questions him wordlessly. 

“You’ll see. One more present.” He insists inwardly. “Ready to go home?” He asks Candy. 

“I believe so. I want to cuddle up with my babies.” She teases and kisses Eddie again. 

“And you will. Keep tight. Eyes shut.” He says as they’re sucked together into his darkness and taken in leaps and bounds back to the safety of their bedroom.

“That feels sooo weird.” She laughs stumbling back and sitting on the bed as she’s released.

“You get used to it.” Eddie grins, he had a feeling that he wouldn’t be able to stop for awhile.

“I have one more present.” Venom announces, a more fully formed head to speak to them both. “It is something you both wanted.” 

They both wait with a shared glance as Venom vibrates with excitement. He moves Eddie closer to the bed and stands up Candy as they look at each other with laughter in their eyes he ripples again. 

“Ready?” He asks with a wide smile.

“Yeah, I wanna know why you’re acting so weird.” Eddie playfully jabs him.

“Eddie…” He takes one of his hands. “Candy…” He takes hers and takes a deep breath that was only for show as he didn’t need to physically breathe. He places Eddie's hand to her stomach and places hers on top. “You’re going to have a baby.” He says with tiny tendrils flicking about in celebration. 

“A- What? I’m afraid I can’t be, hun, I’ve got an IUD remember?” She looks at him confused along with Eddie.

“It was destroyed along with your uterus in the shots. I removed it and healed you. I can taste the difference in your sweat. The hormones. They’ve changed.”

She gulps and her hand clenched around Eddies. “Are you… serious?”

“Yes. I repaired you beyond what you were before, you’re a perfectly balanced machine now.”

“We’ve been having sex this whole month and... I…” She feels a little woozy and Eddie braces her back. Careful to read her reactions. 

“Are you serious?” He asks him again. 

“Yes! Why do you keep asking? I wouldn’t have waited to tell you if I hadn’t thought it would make a good present.”

“It… is a good present?” She can hear the break in Eddie's voice. His eyes moving to hers that were still wide in shock.

“I’m… I’m gonna… WE are gonna… OH GOD WILL IT BE AN ALIEN?!” She shouts and Venom rumbles out a laugh.

“No. Sadly not. This is all Eddies work.”

“Eddie.” She squeaks out, His high brows move closer to her own. “I’m pregnant.” She states with disbelief. A pause that makes him nervous then an almost maniacal laugh escapes her. “I’m pregnant.” She speaks again and laughs. “Oh my God Eddie. We’re gonna have a baby. A baby.” She laughs and throws her head into his chest.

“Please tell me these are happy crazy laughs.” He inquires hesitantly and she squeezes him tight.

“After I was shot. I thought about a lot of things. How I spent my time. What I wanted out of life.” She begins without looking at him yet.

“She’s always wanted to be a mother. But never knew when the right time would be.” Venom makes it easier for her, a loving stroke of her hair and pat to her back.

“Exactly. I forget you we’re in my head.” She lets out a sniffle. “My mom's gonna be so happy.” She laughs and it turns to tears. “Eddie we're gonna have a baby.” She starts to sob as he laughs at first at the absurdity of it all. But with the life he’d led, honestly, a baby was about the least crazy thing. A baby was entirely normal in comparison.

“We’re gonna have a baby.” He chokes out before the contagious laughing tears get their hooks into him as well. “We’re getting married and we're having a baby.” He lets out a loud sigh of relief.

“This is crazy.” She laughs as they rest forehead to forehead and wipe away the other’s tears. 

“Is it? Compared to…” He motions to Venom whose big opal eyes were brimming with his version of tears. A sympathetic reaction to his host's emotions. 

They burst out laughing at it all. Because what else could happen that would be more surprising than what they’d already been through? This mantra gave them the outlook they had needed. They would take it all in stride now from experience, they would work through the bad and cherish the good. They kept in mind how absurd it all was, and laughter followed them through it all. Because what could be crazier than what life had already thrown at them?

@hardygal69 @marvelgirl7 @emerald-bijou @brianaisasongbird @vale0413 @izzy-the-ginger​ @chortletortoise @onomatopoetic-aesthetic​ @anrm1 @jademox @nightcraver @venomous-possibiities @tinastarkandco @chipster-21 @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes @queenof-wakanda @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s @peakys-mystic @jaegeeeeer

[dutten-does-the-fanfic]

I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 6

Title:  I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 6 of 14 (ch. 1) Pairing: Isak Valtersen/Even Bech Næsheim Word count: 28016 Warnings: Language, internalized homophobia

AO3

Summary:  The one where it’s been two years since Isak last saw or spoke with Even, and no one knows that Isak ever knew Even at all.

Present

The week seems to just drag on and on and come Friday, Isak is exhausted. It takes just about everything to get out of bed, his limbs feel all heavy and his head feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton, and overall he feels like he’s coming down with the flu or has the worst hangover of his life.

At least Friday is the only day he doesn’t have morning classes, but even getting up at 9 o’clock instead of 6 doesn’t do a whole lot for him – not when he’s spent the better part of the night tossing and turning because he just can’t seem to fall asleep. At all.

Isak’s always had a bit of tendency to insomnia, something that had gotten severely worse after – well, after. But after a while, when he’d really started to get on with Jonas and was figuring things out with Mahdi and Magnus, it had gotten better. Mind you, there was still the odd night with no more than two hours of sleep, but those were the exception rather than the rule.

Things haven’t been this bad for a while and Isak can feel the anger bubbling away inside of him.

He had been getting better, he was going to be better this year, and now he feels all out of sorts in his own home. He’s terrified of walking around in Oslo or on campus grounds because what if he runs into Mikael, what if he runs into Even – no matter that by studying bio-science he’s in a completely different section of the university, the thought that Even could be within walking distance at any moment in time makes Isak terrified.

Isak stumbles around the flat noisily as he tries to get ready. He splashes water onto his face three times, but it has little effect on waking him up and no effect on getting rid of the slowly turning more prominent dark circles underneath his eyes. The two cups of coffee help a little wake him up, but he also ends up feeling a little sick from drinking too much hot coffee too quickly and too early.

He’s always been organized about his things so it doesn’t take long to gather his books, his notebook – just in case, because mapping out formulas and equations on a laptop can be goddamn awful – his laptop, the charger and stuffed his phone in his pocket, he should be ready to go.

He’s already put on his jacket and a beanie to hide away the atrocious state his hair is in, he should probably be bringing out a scarf soon if the wind is going to be so persistently cold already.

It’s that thought that makes him take one last look around his room. He isn’t even looking for his scarf, isn’t looking for anything in particular, but maybe that’s what sets him off.

Isak’s room isn’t empty. It’s furnished, he has curtains up, posters on the walls; one of the periodic table and another of the atomic structures for alcohol, caffeine and adrenaline drawn with funny faces on them. He has bed sheets and lamps and a bedside table and everything that should make his room feel like a home.

And it just, doesn’t.

It feels like someone has cut Isak’s strings and everything just feels so overwhelming for a second, like that walls are trying to close in on him, this apartment that he three years ago never would’ve thought would need to be a reality, his reality. Because Isak’s reality had been Even and their shitty one room apartment on the fourth floor with no elevator and their tiny kitchen and it had been their life together.

Maybe it’s from his surprise run in with Even or maybe it’s the recent thought he’d had walking through the apartment, how there are personal pictures hung around everywhere but his room, but now the thoughts and the feelings are there and they won’t go away.

All of it has just been building up to this moment and now that it’s finally here it hits Isak like a freight train and all he can do when his knees give out is aim at landing on the bed.

He bounces, once, but it’s enough to make him almost slide down onto the floor. Isak curls his hands into the duvet, scrunching it up and making crease marks that go across the stripes printed on the fabric. He keeps looking around the room frantically, like maybe the next time he looks, something will have changed, something will be different and he’ll be okay.

Because the truth is Isak isn’t dealing with it. He hasn’t been dealing at all for all of these years, and as much as he is constantly running on fumes and denial, it isn’t helping him. Not in the long run, and Isak hates that he can’t continue like this, because as much as he hates the anxiety and the constant stress of worrying, it’s much more preferable to the thought of everyone knowing.

Isak stuffs his wrist into his mouth in reflex to muffle whatever noises threaten to slip out. He can’t remember if it’s always been this hard to breathe.

OOOOO

As much as Isak lets himself struggle when he’s on his own, when he’s in public, no one would be able to tell there’s anything different from this Isak to the one two, three, four and so on weeks ago.

He walks the halls with his back straight and an indifferent look on his face, like nothing in the world could possibly bother him. He pays attention in class and takes notes and tries desperately to look like he actually understands what’s going on, tries so hard to focus in on the words droning on and on and not on anything else. And if people stop to talk to him, he smiles and he laughs and he makes nice all the while ignoring how every single interaction drains him until he’s worried there will be nothing left of him by the end of the day.

While the bigger part of his first year had been a bit of a shit-storm, once he’d gotten on Jonas’ good side it had seemed necessary to fall in line with how he, Mahdi and Magnus had been acting, which meant all the university parties Isak had only been attending to get embarrassingly drunk he was now attending to still get drunk, but under the guise of talking and trying to get with pretty girls.

It had been stupidly easy to imitate the guys, so easy to mimic their body languages, to smile at the girls like he was letting them in on a secret just between the two of them, easy to talk smoothly and slowly gain the reputation of a flirt despite not having kissed a single person.

What wasn’t easy was everything that came after that. Girls wanted to talk to him, but most of the time they wanted a lot more than just talking, and Isak has absolutely no reason to feel guilty about the prospects of getting to hook up, but guilt is a lot easier to handle than the at best indifference and at worst disgust at the thought of having to hook up with girls.

He could explain the guilt away – just gotten out of a serious relationship, he still feels weird about being close to other people, blah, blah, blah – but the other parts? Those were a dead giveaway.

So he makes nice and counts down the minutes until he can go home.

During the last fifteen minutes of a lecture, his phone pings with a message from Sana reminding him about their scheduled study session he honestly had forgotten everything about.

Remember we’re meeting in the library in 20

Isak groans and ignores the dirty looks the people next to him send for interrupting. He gets another text before he can reply.

You did remember, right?

Isak scoffs even though he knows Sana won’t know.

Course I did. See you there

Guess he’s doing this, then. His body feels heavy at the thought alone, so he stops at one of the on-campus cafés and gets two large coffees to go.

“Hey,” Isak greets as he sinks down into the chair across from Sana, bringing out his laptop and debating whether he should get out his book already as well or if they’re probably just going to be browsing the internet.

The internal debate means Isak ends up not realizing the complete silence from the other side of the table before it’s been stretched out long enough to be uncomfortable.

Isak looks up – sure enough, it is Sana, he hasn’t gotten the wrong table, but it’s a Sana who looks like she’s just bit into a lemon the way she’s scowling at him.

“I’m not late,” Isak snaps, because he isn’t.

Sana scowls even harder.

“And I didn’t forget we were meeting.”

He had forgotten.

“You did,” Sana replies. Isak doesn’t even bother looking outraged or protesting because, yeah, he had, sue him. “That’s not my problem.”

Isak has enough problems already, thank you very much. A deep sigh escapes him involuntarily, and he regrets it immediately because all it amounts to is Sana now looking angry as well. “What is your problem, then?”

Sana doesn’t reply. She looks at something past Isak’s shoulder, and Isak almost turns around in his seat to see if he isn’t the problem but someone behind him is – which, honestly, would be a well-needed break clearly brought by the gods above finally looking out for him.

“You need to do something for me.”

Hold the phone, sister. Isak’s hand freezes from where he’d been about to type in his password on his computer. “What?”

Sana rolls her eyes. Isak can only just manage to see it from where she’s now scowling into her book that’s opened on the preface.

“I think it’s called, ‘I need you to do something for me,” Isak points out. “At least, that’s how you ask it when you need a favor from someone.”

Sana shrugs and still doesn’t look up at him. “I said what I said.”

Isak stares incredulously at her. Honestly, what?

Sana sighs long-sufferingly and finally looks up at him. “It’s only because of something Noora said.”

Noora? Isak mentally goes through every single girl he’s ever shared a class with who also probably has shared a class with Sana and comes up with… no one.

“Noora?”

Sana stares at him like he’s the idiot and not the one who apparently has to know every single person in the science department.

“Yes, Noora,” she bites at him. “Friends with Eva and Vilde? Don’t you know her?”

Isak knows a Noora – the possibility along with the probability of it being the same Noora should be quite slim to none. He does remember that Eva has a friend called Noora, but he can’t recall her for the life of him.

“No.”

“Well, Noora is our friend, moving on,” Sana slams her book shut when it’s clear she can’t keep on the pretense of it being more important than what she’s trying to talk about. “You need to –“

“Hold on,” Isak interrupts, holding up a finger to silence her before she gets too far ahead. “Are you asking me for a favor?”

And Sana has just taken another bite of a lemon.

“Because it sounds an awful lot like you’re asking me for a favor.”

“I’m not asking you for a favor,” she makes a face at the word like it has personally offended her. “I’m merely proposing working on a common interest.”

“In which I will be doing all the work and have absolutely no idea about what interest I have in it?” Isak clarifies.

“Common interest,” Sana repeats, leaning back in her chair. Her eyeliner is heavier today than it had been the last time Isak had seen her, and if she’s wearing it for the intimidation factor Isak has got to give it to her that it’s working. “We need you to get Magnus’ head out of his own ass.”

Isak lets out a mix of a surprised whine and an indignant squawk of outrage for someone who has probably only met Magnus a handful of times to talk like that about him.

Sana, being Sana, just fixes a glare at him. “Him and Vilde.”

“What’s wrong with Magnus and Vilde?”

“The fact that they since the start of the second semester have been trying to get together only to cockblock themselves every single time?”

Isak pauses. “How?”

To be honest, he hadn’t even noticed Magnus had been trying to hook up with Vilde. With every single party the boys dragged him to, it always seemed like it was a new girl for all of them except Jonas, who’d dutifully spend the night looking after Eva unless they were smoking.

“All they ever talk about is cats!”

“Cats,” Isak repeats, deadpan.

“Yes,” Sana snaps. “Cats.”

“Are you sure they’re not talking about –“

“Cats.”

“Alright!” Isak holds up the palms of his hands and leans back in his chair to get some space between them. “Again, why?”

“If I knew, do you really think I would be asking for you to interfere?”

Isak came here to study, not be berated about his friend’s life decisions. “You don’t think it could just be a… bonding thing?”

By the look of it, Sana does not particularly look like she thinks it could be a quote unquote, ‘bonding thing’.

“Like, a, ‘hey, do you prefer dogs or cats’, kind of thing?” Isak winces when Sana raises one eyebrow at him. There are weirder conversation-starters and icebreakers – Isak would know. So far he’s never met anyone else whose first conversation involved ISO-settings and a B&E. Without actually breaking anything. An E.

“They’re meowing at each other.”

“Jesus,” only Magnus. Or, apparently, only Magnus and Vilde. Isak rolls his eyes and shakes his head to stop looking at Sana. This really wasn’t what he’d been prepared for when he sat down.

It’s difficult trying to wrap his head around any of this. He’s exhausted to the bone, he’s spent the entire day trying to pay attention and stay busy. Having to suddenly think about woes of love hits a bit too close for Isak not to lose his breath.

Different situation, different people, he tries to keep in mind when he turns back to Sana.

“I don’t know what exactly you expect me to do,” he tells her. “I don’t even know when they’ll be in the same room, let alone talking to each other!”

Sana frowns quizzically at him. “Do you not know about –“

A sudden flurry of movement to Isak’s right startles them both out of their bubble. They both snap their necks to the side so quickly Isak feels a crick already forming from the mild whiplash.

“Hey!” Emma grins. Oh no.

Oh no. Isak’s day is going badly enough already, he does not need this.

‘This’ referring to the first year eagerly waiting for a slice of Isak’s attention to be on her like it’s all that’ll ever matter. She’s practically vibrating where she’s standing next to him, all bright-eyed and enthusiastic about life and Isak doesn’t know how to connect with her, besides the obvious reason.

Emma’s a sweet girl, really. With her journalism major and outgoing personality, she isn’t exactly lacking friends or popularity. She just, apparently, hasn’t gotten the memo that Isak doesn’t stick around, isn’t there for anything serious, and also isn’t there for something not serious.

So now he’s got a lot of unanswered DMs he can’t even bring himself to leave on ‘read’.

Isak’s just staring at her. It actually feels like his mouth has been sewn shut. Isak is usually the one who approaches girls; he doesn’t get approached outside of a party, and now that he has it feels a bit like he’s been thrown into the deep end.

What is he supposed to say?

He only startles out of it when the hardcover of Sana’s book smacks against the tabletop with unneeded force.

“Hey,” Isak tries to smile back. He has a feeling it looks more like a grimace, especially from the way Sana is looking increasingly amused, but Emma doesn’t seem to pay too much attention to it, thankfully.

“You kind of disappeared last time I saw you,” Emma toes an inch closer and Isak has to resist the urge to scoot backwards to maintain the distance between them. She shrugs. “’S a shame.”

Isak doesn’t recall having been anywhere near her, doesn’t even remember the last time he’d seen her.

While he doesn’t know a lot about girls, he does know you do not tell them something like that.

“Yeah,” Isak stutters out instead, shrugging in lieu of an apology. Maybe he can pull off the you know how it is half-assery. “Hopefully you weren’t too disappointed.”

It always leaves a bad taste in his mouth, flirting with anyone, even if he only ever flirts with girls. Maybe that part also contributes to the sour taste that sticks with him for the rest of the day.

Emma giggles, all prettily and Isak thinks he should like her; she’s pretty with the short, brown hair and big, brown eyes. Isak has to bite himself in his cheek when his thoughts try to stray towards blond coifs and blue eyes.

“Maybe you could make it up to me?” She casually puts her hand on the table, only a couple of inches away from where Isak is resting his arm. It would be too obvious to pull away, even if that is all Isak wants to do.

Jesus, that sounds like a line. Isak pointedly ignores the snort Sana attempts to mask as she slides further and further down behind her book and laptop that are propped open in front of her.

“Oh, uh –“ Isak fumbles. He should keep on looking at her, any guy would keep on looking at her. Isak looks around the room to find inspiration for any apology or let down he can give her without it coming back to bite him in the ass. “How would I –“

Emma was clearly just waiting for that opening, even if Isak doesn’t get to finish it. “I heard you’re having a shindig?”

A what?

“I’m having a what?”

Sana snorts again from the other side of the table, but Isak is magnanimous enough to fully ignore her. He repeats to himself that he shouldn’t divert his attention away from Emma, because none of the other boys would’ve done that.

“A shindig,” Emma laughs, reaches her hand out to lay it on his arm and squeezes once. Isak’s arm burns uncomfortably when she pulls her hand away again. “Or your housemates are. It sounded like it was for all of you.”

A what?

“So?” Emma smiles, bats her eyelashes once. “Am I going to have to beg for an invite?”

She takes another step closer. By now she’s close enough that Isak can smell her perfume, it clogs together in his throat, but he barely pays attention to it from how fast his thoughts are racing through his head.

A what?

Emma falters when she see Isak floundering. “Are you… okay?”

“Yeah,” it comes out too weak, so Isak clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, I’m – I’m great, yeah. Uh, I don’t – I don’t actually know anything about any kind of ‘shindig’.”

It sounds like a lie. It feels like a lie, and it isn’t even one. For once Isak doesn’t have to lie to get out of something, yet it’s also the one time no one seems to believe him. Emma most certainly doesn’t look impressed, and Sana, who isn’t even a part of this conversation, doesn’t really seem to fully believe him either.

“Right,” Emma says. It sounds too clipped and she takes a couple of steps back, putting some distance in-between them. Shit.

Isak tries to grin. “It must be a pretty exclusive party if I can’t even get an invite.” And that also sounds like an excuse.

“Right,” Emma repeats, but it comes out too stiff and a bit clipped. Her arms are folded across her chest and Isak wants to stuff his face into his hands and groan from having to deal with this on top of everything.

He doesn’t.

“What did – where did you hear about it?” he asks instead.

Emma’s looking everywhere but at him. “I just heard it around. Supposed to be the place to be tonight.”

Isak gulps. Shit, that does not sound good. Both in the sense that if this is true, his home will be flooded with drunk students and he’d rather not deal with the aftermath, but also that, if this is true, Isak hasn’t been told about it.

Isak… doesn’t quite know how he’s supposed to feel about that.

“Oh.”

Emma looks uncomfortable, looking down at her shoes she keeps scuffing the toes of around. Isak doesn’t doubt he looks uncomfortable as well.

Whatever Jonas, Mahdi, and Magnus are planning aside, Isak can’t spend the night also having to worry about Emma. The way he constantly has to be thinking, is this the right way to behave around her, am I actually pulling it off, does it seem like she likes me, and most importantly, when can he leave.

But he also can’t afford to just turn down a girl without an obvious reason, and right now everyone seems to be on the Emma-boat and Isak is left to drown.

“Why don’t you keep your phone open, then?” Isak tries to grin, but he feels a bit too shaky. It almost feels like he’s coming down with something; cold shivers running through his body and he feels clammy, but he knows he isn’t getting sick.

Emma’s phone starts to buzz in her pocket. Her eyebrows are furrowed as she switches between looking at Isak and fishing the phone out of her coat and check who is calling.

“I’ll text you if I find out about something?”

He sounds too hesitant and Emma doesn’t look convinced either, so Isak pinches a small bit of skin by his wrist in-between two fingertips to pull himself together. It doesn’t hurt as badly as the rest of him does.

“After all, is it really a party if you aren’t there?”

She looks a bit more placated at that, even as most of her attention is on the phone. “Text me later, then. Or next week – we’ll do something. Hello -”

Isak doesn’t get the chance to reply before she’s bounded out of there again, leaving him staring into the air of her vacated space.

A snort sounds from across the table.

“What?” Isak snaps, rolling his shoulders back to try and relieve some tension. “Shit.”

“I’m sure she would’ve taken it much nicer if you’d just let her down easy instead of talk your way around it,” Sana leafs lazily through her book despite that they both know she isn’t looking for anything.

Isak scoffs. “Can’t exactly let her down easy when I don’t even know what she’s talking about, can I?”

Sana stops mid-motion, the page falling down onto its place without her assistance. She blinks once, twice, then looks up at him. “Huh?”

“’Shindig’?” Isak quotes, knocking his arms out. “What the hell is this?”

Sana doesn’t move, doesn’t stop looking at him either. It’s unnerving as all hell and Isak would just like to get some answers, thank you very much.

He doesn’t get any. Sana just shakes her head, closes the book and turns her attention onto the computer. “Take that up with the troublesome trio you live with. Let’s get started!”

OOOOO

Isak hears cupboards banging in the kitchen and he follows the noise until he can see Jonas bent over in front of their chips-and-other-miscellaneous-unhealthy-crap cupboard, riffling through the contents as a note and a pen lie on the counter in front of him.

It used to be so easy. Isak could walk up to Jonas and just say, ‘Hey’ or ask about coursework or football or how Eva is, how are the both of you, all of it seemed so easy.

Now he’s staring at Jonas, mouth snapped shut and no matter how much he begs his body to, it won’t open. He’s screaming the questions in his mind, but no sounds gets out and he doesn’t know why he’s feeling like this, this panicky anxiety that’s filling his body. Just the thought of actually saying something is making him twitchy.

“Hey!” Jonas smiles when he sees him standing there. “Did you borrow my scarf?”

“Are we having a shindig?” tumbles out of Isak’s mouth before his brain can catch up that he should probably answer Jonas’ question first.

Jonas frowns at the change of topic, but diligently answers him. “Yeah? Didn’t Magnus tell you?” and then realizes what he’s just said.

Jonas squeezes his eyes shut so tightly his nose and cheeks wrinkle from the force of it. “Shit, sorry, man, should’ve just told you myself. It’s been planned for a couple of weeks by now.”

A couple of weeks, holy shit. Isak stuffs his hand into the pocket in his jacket to hide how much he’s shaking. A couple of weeks puts it right before the night, and if Magnus didn’t have a tendency to get distracted already, he definitely would’ve had enough reason to when he ran into his idol.

“Right,” Isak stammers out when Jonas doesn’t seem inclined to give him any more information.

“It’s just a small thing!” Jonas hurries to placate, but that only makes Isak feel worse.

A few weeks ago there wouldn’t have been a need for him to be placated about his friends holding a party. Yeah, he’d be grouchy he wasn’t told, panicky about who’d been invited, but nothing like what he’s feeling now.

“Swear,” Jonas doesn’t pause so he probably hasn’t even noticed Isak’s internal struggle. “Eva and her friends are the only ones who are definitely coming. Although, Eva mentioned that Noora might be bringing someone.”

Eva and her friends, so Sana is coming. If anything, he can just hang up against her all evening with the excuse of getting to know his study-buddy. Something that is so like him and not likely at all to raise questioning eyebrows. Shit.

Jonas scratches the back of his head. “Mahdi’s invited a couple of people from the football team, and I think Magnus has invited some from his media classes. But none of them RSVP’ed, so…”

Jonas shrugs like that’s that, like that means it’ll still just be a small gathering of Eva and her girl power group, when Isak knows that they’re not exactly the generation to ‘RSVP’ and that he himself more than once has crashed an invites-only party, it’s bound to come and bite him in the ass at some point.

Also the fact that people are apparently talking about it like it’s the party of the year doesn’t exactly bode well either.

“Do you want to hit some people up, ask if they can come?” Jonas sounds hesitant. Isak feels so out of place in the doorway to his own goddamn kitchen. He isn’t supposed to be feeling like this. “It’s a bit last minute, but maybe someone is free?”

Isak can’t tell if he’s angling for Isak to invite some girls over, maybe even Emma, but Isak feels sick and uneasy enough already, he doesn’t need the added worry if he looks straight enough.

He shakes his head. “’s all good.” He doesn’t mention there’s no one for him to invite – no one he’d want to come. “Hey,” he clears his throat and points down the hall in the direction of his room. “I’ll go finish some, uh, stuff. Just get me if you need help with anything, yeah?”

Is that an appropriate thing to ask? Should he just barge in and ask directly if there’s anything they need him to do? It’s not that he minds Eva or Sana and he hasn’t really met the three left, but it doesn’t change the fact that this ‘shindig’ that supposedly was for all of them is feeling a lot like it’s only for some of them and Isak is only invited because he lives here.

Jonas nods, something guarded in his eyes that makes it difficult for Isak to swallow. “Yeah. Yeah, man, definitely.”

Isak nods, and then once again when he doesn’t know what to say, what to do. In the end, he just slowly starts to shuffle towards his room, leaving Jonas behind in the kitchen.

OOOOO

“Oi!” Magnus pounds his fist against Isak’s door so harshly it slams up against the wall. “Isak, my bro, my best bro, have I told you recently –“

“I’m not helping you get laid,” Isak groans before rolling onto his stomach, any following dismayed noises muffled when he shoves his head into his pillows.

“Please!” Magnus whines, throwing himself on top of Isak with zero regards to his spine. “I’ll help you!”

Isak snorts, or he would’ve, had he any air to do so.

“Get off of me,” he groans and tries to turn onto his back, but Magnus is stubbornly persistent in not moving until Isak agrees.

“You always know what to say and what to do,” Magnus whines, rolling onto his back until he’s awkwardly planked horizontally across Isak, his back forced into a unnatural arch. “Teach me your ways, I beg of you!”

“Your only bargaining tool was you would help me get laid, yet I’m the only one who knows how to do it?” Isak asks, except his face is smooshed into his pillows and Magnus is honest to god quite heavy, so it comes out a muffled garble of mour mon marg moo mou mel maid mam meon mow moo-hmm.

Magnus stills on top of him.

“Alright, I didn’t understand a word of that.”

Isak folds his arms up underneath his torso and pushes up until Magnus has to roll with it or be pushed onto the floor. Magnus yelps, his arms flailing as he nearly topples over, before he clings onto Isak’s hoodie, holding on for dear life.

“Isn’t this a problem for the crisis window?” Isak grumbles, referring to the nook in the kitchen, the window that’s just long enough that all four of them can sit side by side on the sill that had unintentionally turned into their version of a psychiatrist’s couch – too little room on the couch, and it feels like an invasion of privacy in their rooms. Or just a place to smoke if that’s what they’re in the mood for.

Magnus frowns. “Would you actually move into the kitchen for me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then it’s a problem for Isak’s bed!” Magnus moves around a worrying amount.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Isak flops onto his back before Magnus can climb back on top of him, “considering I didn’t even know we were having a party two hours ago.”

Magnus winces apologetically and looks at Isak with those big, sad eyes he knows no one can resist. Manipulative bastard.

“I didn’t mean to forget!” Magnus insist, snuffling closer to Isak in a way that’s probably meant to look like a puppy begging for forgiveness, but just makes it look like he’s stuck. “And I did say I’m sorry.”

Isak sighs and rolls his eyes, but he lets it go. There’s so much else going on in his head, he can’t deal with having to be angry about a missing invite to a party. “Alright, then,” and asks. “Who’d you invite to the party?”

A long list of names bubbles out of Magnus’ mouth, none of which ring a bell, which could both be a blessing and a curse, but then Magnus starts categorizing them after which class they share, which tutorial group, friends before going to university, the lady in the grocery store who, admittedly, had looked a little too old to be interested in a uni party, but Magnus is still holding out hope she’ll actually show up.

Despite rejecting his offer immediately after Magnus had told her about it.

“So what you’re telling me,” Isak interrupts once it becomes clear Magnus is about to go off topic about what he wants to suggest they watch in film club, “is that you want my help with hooking up –“

Magnus nods wildly.

“– when you haven’t invited any girls?”

Magnus stops nodding.

Isak shakes his head. “There’re only so many miracles I can perform in one night, and your requests are starting to increase in size.”

Magnus snorts. “Like the size is what’s stopping you from fulfilling my hopes and dreams.”

Oh, that one’s just too obvious. “Maybe it’s only one miracle we need if the only thing we need is to change the size of your –“

“Hey!”

Isak’s grown up enough to admit the punch to his shoulder was probably well-deserved.

“Asshole,” Magnus grumbles, rolling onto his stomach when he flops around uselessly. Isak honestly can’t tell what he’s trying to do.

Isak should feel worse about kicking Magnus when he’s already down, but there’s a few hours left until the shindig ahem-party-ahem is supposed to start, and Isak had hoped he could spend at least some of them asleep.

So he should probably try to actually help Magnus, then. Jesus, Isak doesn’t have the emotional capacity for this.

“Alright, ignore who is and isn’t coming,” Isak tells him. “You see a girl you like – what do you want?”

He does feel a bit bad when Magnus looks up at him with these big eyes, like he hadn’t thought Isak would actually help him.

Yet he’d still turned to him for help. These damn creative-minded artsy kids – Isak honestly has no idea how their minds work.

“I –“ Magnus hesitates, biting his lip. “I want to say something funny so she’ll laugh.”

Isak nods, that’s a good start. Seem approachable, relatable, try to be funny. Smiles are good when humans want to connect with each other.

“And then, later on, I’d like to press her up against the wall and –“

Isak groans like he’s dying, because he honestly might be. Magnus isn’t even deterred when Isak gets the pillow under his head out and smothers his face in it.

This was not what he’d signed up for.

Although, he probably should’ve been expecting it – Magnus has never been particularly quiet about what he likes, including what he likes in bed, which is what Isak’s currently being painted a lovely picture of.

A lot of leather is involved – a bit surprisingly – a lot of sex in various positions, most seem unbelievably unrealistic – not surprisingly at all – and how good it’ll be.

Something that is surprising is when Magnus doesn’t stop at the end of the night.

“I can’t cook pancakes,” Magnus reminds Isak. “So either one of you guys could do me a favor, or – oh! Maybe she likes cereal! Most people do after all – I could get her my special mix, you know the one where I mix –“

“You want her to stay for breakfast?” Isak interrupts, frowning.

“Yeah?” Magnus looks honestly perplexed. “We’ve just had the most incredible night together, why would I want her to leave?”

“Erh, well, you see –“

“I can’t expect her to stay and not feed her.”

“That wasn’t really the point I was trying to make –“

“Oh! And then, after breakfast, we could go into the city – no, wait! I could take her to breakfast at a café!”

“That definitely isn’t really hook up protocol –“

“Yeah, that’s probably a way better idea. I don’t want to scare her off with my bad cooking!” Magnus is laughing and Isak is grimacing.

“No, yeah, but –“

“And then after we’ve eaten, we could come back here and have sex again. You know I saw this thing in a porno once, where the girl ended up stuffing –“

Gross, gross, gross! Where is the bleach, Isak needs it. Desperately. Goodbye hearing, goodbye brain, there is literally no need for either if he has to spend the rest of his life remembering just exactly what, where, and how much that poor girl had stuffed.

“And in the evening I could take her somewhere nice. There are all sorts of romantic places in the centre of Oslo, right?”

“There are, but –“

“So we could go there and be all cutesy-and-shit,” a description every girl wants their relationship to have, “and then we go swing ‘round her place to get her some clothes. Or! We could just come back here again, and the next day she’d just have to wear something of mine. That’s hot, right?”

“Objectively, it is, but –“

“And I could fall asleep all folded up around her, and make sure she’s warm enough and comfortable. She could fall asleep on my chest – wait, no! We’re spooning – and I’m the big spoon,” he points at Isak like he dares him to disagree with that.

It honestly isn’t the bit Isak has the biggest issue with.

“And the next day we could get ready for the week together. We could do homework together and she could tell me all about her degree and her modules and her essays, and she’d listen to me rambling on about –“ Magnus pauses for a second, like he just remembered it’s Isak’s room he’s in. It doesn’t leave much doubt what he was about to say, but Isak’s frozen in his seat so he doesn’t comment on it when Magnus clears his throat and continues like nothing had happened. “ – and my education, and my work.”

Magnus gasps dramatically with a sudden epiphany, any lingering awkwardness at the near slipup clearly forgotten. “I could show her Even’s movies! Do you think she’ll like them? Oh, I really hope so, because we’re watching all of them. And she could show me her favorite movies – we could do several film nights!”

Isak’s mouth feels too dry. He’s pretty sure his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth permanently now.

“And I would find little pieces of hers all over in my room, like, some clothes lying on the floor, or a hair tie, or a book for class. And I could clear out a drawer for her things, and she could slowly take over everything in my room so I have the drawer I’d originally cleared out for her –“

Isak stills as what Magnus has described registers. His heart beats a little too fast and he feels cold all of the sudden, even as he can feel that his skin is actually rather warm.

It’s all said so matter-of-factly, like Magnus has never experienced the rush of emotions, the giddiness and the excitement and the happiness and the nerves and everything related to falling in love, because that’s what Magnus is describing. Love.

Isak doesn’t have a lot of expertise in the hooking up culture; he’d been so young when he’d met Even, just at the age where his classmates were only starting to gain interest in parties and kissing, so he’d never learnt what it meant, what you had to do and why it was supposedly so fun to participate in.

But what he’d lacked in that area, he’d learnt a lot more in another. And what Magnus is talking about? Isak already knows enough to know that isn’t what you do with a hookup, that’s what you do with a person you’re in a relationship with.

It’s suddenly very difficult for Isak to draw in another breath.

“Doesn’t that sound nice?” Magnus finishes, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Really wish I had invited some girls to hook up tonight now –“

“Magnus,” Isak interrupts, a bit clipped. “That’s not what you do when you hook up.”

“Huh?”

“That’s what you do in a relationship.”

Isak’s so terribly thrown off kilter. He’d expected to bluff his way through guiding Magnus into getting a hook up, but now he has to fake not knowing about what Magnus is talking about, because Isak’s done all of that and no one knows. He doesn’t want to share it either, but it’s like something is being ripped from his past that he’d tried so hard to bury, and it’s both painful and makes him feel numb at the same time.

Magnus glares at him, but there’s no fire behind it. “What do you know about relationships?”

Isak feels freezing and boiling hot at the same time. It’s like it takes everything in him to put on a strained smile – luckily, Magnus isn’t looking too closely.

“You basically just described Jonas and Eva, you know that, right? You’re not interested in finding someone to hook up with. You want to find your Eva.”

Magnus hums, rolls onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. “Suppose,” and then out of the blue asks, “Is that what you want, too?”

Isak’s skin feels too tight and the laughter that bubbles out of him is too high-pitched, too wrong. “Why do you think that?”

Magnus shrugs. The fabric of his t-shirt snags against the fabric of the duvet, making it look like a weird, awkward shuffle instead. “Like, is Emma your Eva?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, man!” Magnus knocks his arms out. “I just – don’t you think it could be nice? If that isn’t what you get to do with a hook up, then what’s the great thing about it?”

Isak can’t answer, because he doesn’t know the answer. He hates that he doesn’t know the answer, he should’ve figured it out ages ago, yet here he is.

“The freedom,” Isak tells him stiffly, but he tries to make it come out light and excited, like he should be feeling. “You can do whatever you want with whoever you want.”

A knot forms in Magnus’ brows. “Doesn’t that get lonely?”

It’s hard to swallow.

“Nah,” Isak leans back so he can look up at his ceiling. The familiarity of it is comforting; the same cracks and patterns as all the other times he’s looked up at it. “Think the other way around gets too crowded.”

Shit, Isak needs to get the conversation moving to somewhere else. He’s going to end up saying or doing something he’ll regret if he doesn’t.

“Maybe you’ll meet someone tonight, though.”

Magnus snorts. “Yeah, going to meet lots of girls to a party where none of us has invited any.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “Eva’s coming,” which, maybe don’t bring up a girl who already has a boyfriend – a boyfriend you’re currently sharing a flat with at that, “didn’t Jonas say she was bringing her friends along?”

Magnus lets out a disheartened sigh. “Going by my track record, I don’t think any of Eva’s friends are going to be in my league.”

Alright, that’s any melodrama Isak can handle for the day, he needs to figure something out. If Magnus doesn’t think he has a chance with any of Eva’s friends, then he’s just going to have to –

Eva’s friends.

Sana is one of Eva’s friends. Sana has already mentioned another one of Eva’s friends.

He has an honest-to-god light bulb moment. He might as well pull up a ding to go along with it – Isak’s sure there’s an app for it. There’s an app for everything, nowadays.

“What about the one you’ve spoken to before, then?” Isak tries to ask casually. “What was her name – Mille? Hilde?”

“Vilde?”

“That’s the one!” Isak snaps his fingers, like that’ll make this conversation go faster.

After this, Sana can never claim he’s never done anything for her. This favor extends very, very far.

Except Magnus doesn’t start blabbering on about Vilde. He remains quiet, twiddling his thumbs in circles and carefully avoids looking over at Isak.

“I don’t know,” he finally says. “I don’t think she really likes me.”

Jesus Christ, Isak is getting a scientific degree for a reason – he doesn’t know how to do this, never learnt how to be confident enough in himself to spread it to his friends.

“Course she likes you. Why wouldn’t she?”

Magnus shrugs again, but he doesn’t add anything to it. So it’s actually serious, then, if Magnus doesn’t want to talk about it.

“It’s just –“ Magnus sighs. “Nothing seems natural. I always seem to say the wrong thing and – I don’t know. Shouldn’t it feel easier, somehow?”

Isak doesn’t feel like he’s in his room, on his bed, talking to Magnus. He can vaguely see his desk and his books, but it feels like it might be in a dream and he’s only seeing what his brain is creating for him to see.

“Falling in love should be easy – that’s what all the movies make it seem like. The pain usually comes after, once something has gone wrong, not during.”

Panic is sizzling away underneath his skin and Isak both simultaneously wants to get up and run away and stay here and get under the covers to hide away from the world.

“Shouldn’t it feel like a whirlwind from the start? Completely crazy and all-empowering and all you can think about?”

He’s tired. He’s tired of trying and constantly failing, because this was supposed to be his year, yet all he’s done is manage to fuck everything up. He was supposed to make it work with the guys, both by being a better friend, but also figuring out how to be a good flatmate, but so far he’s managed to scare them so badly they’re constantly walking on eggshells around him and Isak doesn’t know how to feel at home in his own apartment in fear that they’ll say one thing, one thing, and they’ll figure it out.

“Like you’d do anything to be with them, to be near them. You’d do anything to make them smile and you want the best for them. I think that’s what I really want the most out of anything.”

It’s stupid to think it, but the thought still somehow sneaks in, because what if that is the reason Magnus is talking about this? So many things just hitting a little too close to home, how easy it was to fall in love with someone, how overly encompassing it was, all the emotions and how it seemed worth it that it might bring pain, because it had also brought love. Isak has spent so long trying to forget all of that.

It’s what makes him finally snap, because he needs for Magnus to shut up. “If what you want is a relationship, maybe go talk to the Casanova, instead.”

“But Isak,” Magnus replies in a sing-song voice. “You’re the Casanova. Jonas would be, I don’t know – Romeo or something.”

It makes the anger swirling in his stomach boil over until it spews out everywhere. There are so many things Isak has spent ages avoiding getting near or getting into conversations about, and now he feels like tearing out his own hair and screaming and crying and he wants to hurt someone, anyone. One person.

“Get the fuck out of here with that shit.”

He sounds furious, voice dripping with venom and it’s surprising Magnus doesn’t pick up on it.

“So Emma isn’t going to be your Juliet, then?” Magnus nudges him playfully, but too many of Isak’s red flags have been prodded at and he can’t take it anymore.

“Absolutely not.” It comes out too harshly. “And I really can’t help you if what you want is some fairytale meet-cute, go talk to Jonas.”

“But isn’t that what everyone wants? Isn’t that the point of going out and meeting people, to see if you find someone worth sticking around and hurting for?”

Isak laughs. It sounds mean. “It really isn’t what everyone wants.”

Magnus is looking a bit confounded, what with the way he’s frowning at Isak with furrowed eyebrows, biting his bottom lip as if he’s contemplating something. “What about you, then?”

There might be a bit too much contempt in Isak’s voice when he tells him, “I have no interest in Romeo and Juliet whatsoever.”

OOOOO

The bass is pumping from the speakers and Isak can barely hear his own thoughts from where they’re being drowned out by the music. There are people all around him, talking, screaming, dancing, making out, taking shots. This is what uni is supposed to be about and Isak can figure out how to fit in, even if he isn’t going to be drinking excessively throughout the night.

It all feels a bit foreign, and it shouldn’t, because this is what Isak’s entire first semester of university had been about; booze and blunts and the noise, because that had seemed to be the only things that made his head quiet and body numb. Maybe it’s just the lack of alcohol swimming around in his body that makes Isak feel like a fish out of water.

At least it’s much less of a party-of-the-year and more in the likes of a pregame. Isak’s already heard several people talking about finding a club somewhere after, so he just has to hold on a few more hours.

A few people shout his name as he makes his way past them. They’re all grinning and raises they various drinks, cans and bottles at him in greeting, probably inviting him to come join them.

Isak nods a greeting, but doesn’t make his way closer. He doesn’t recognize any of them, figures they’re probably some of the blurry person-shaped edges he has in his memories of those nights back during first semester.

“Hey, man,” Jonas comes up to him from behind. He’s looking at Isak like he has to be careful of something, and it isn’t helping with whatever dangerous cocktail of emotions currently swishing around in Isak’s body.

Isak raises an eyebrow and tries to tease, “Bit of a ‘shindig’, huh?”

Jonas winces and looks at him apologetically. “Yeah, things may have gotten a bit out of hand.” And as much as Isak hates that the boys didn’t tell him, he hates this more – this, this guarded carefulness they all have whenever they’re speaking to him. It’s driving him insane and makes him want to scream, but that would only serve to make them worse.

So he tries to laugh and ignores the tightness in stomach. “There’s no problem. This is fun, right?”

Jonas doesn’t look convinced, but Isak doesn’t know how to convince him anymore.

Usually, he would’ve flung his arm around Jonas’ shoulders and shouted too loudly in his ear, ‘let’s go do some shots!’ and that would’ve been it, but he doesn’t do that anymore – drink heavily, or the other bit, actually, come to mind, because Jonas constantly looks guarded around Isak, and Isak can’t tell if that means he wants him close or he doesn’t want him close.

He doesn’t have to worry about it for long, because the front door bangs open when Eva lets herself in.

Jonas lights up like he always does when he sees her, and she sashays her way over to him to kiss him hello. And then some. Isak ignores the pang in his heart at the sight and looks over to the side of them to look at the rest of the gang.

Sana rolls her eyes when he nods at her, so of course he has to roll his eyes back. It’s basically their thing by now, as much as they both seem to hate it.

“Halla,” she greets. “Found out about the ‘shindig’, then?”

Isak feels short of breath, but it’s still easy to put the mask on, grin and pretend like everything’s okay. “Little less than two hours ago, actually,” and tries not to sound self-deprecating or like there’s something wrong.

He doesn’t pull it off. Sana’s frowning – when isn’t she, but all her attention is on Isak, which it usually isn’t, because that isn’t normal.

And he can’t have her say anything, he doesn’t know what he would reply, what would be appropriate and what wouldn’t, what could be worked as a joke and what would just give him away. “Worked wonders for not having to set anything up, though.”

She snorts and takes a step back, going further into the apartment. “Knew you were a slacker the moment I met you.”

“Hey!” Isak protests, whines a bit, but Sana doesn’t wait around to hear whatever defense he could manage to pull up, disappearing into the kitchen with the girl who never stops giving Isak bedroom eyes – Chris, he thinks.

An arm slings around Isak’s shoulder, the smell of beer more pungent than the smell of weed – Magnus, then.

“What the fuck?” Magnus points over at Jonas and Eva who are locked at the lips and oblivious to the world around them. “Is this allowed?”

“Stop,” Jonas breaks away long enough to groan, but Eva’s quick to cup his jaw and draw him back in.

Vilde’s standing next to them by now, and it looks like she’s only giggling politely with little clue to the context of Magnus’ comment, but Magnus’ is grinning back like he’s just won the lottery.

Usually, Isak would at least try and be a good mate and play up whatever had just been said, make it funnier than it actually was without drawing the attention onto himself, but his head had barely been in the game when the party had started, it definitely isn’t when the supposed Noora and her plus one enter their flat.

Because Isak knows that plus one.

“Now the party can sta-ha-ha-art!”

Isak knows that voice.

Isak knows that voice.

Eskild is dressed as loudly as his voice – neon pink and, oh god, are those feathers? – and crazy sunglasses that most likely don’t work if Eskild can stand wearing them inside.

“Ho-ly mother of God,” Magnus breathes out, eyes wide as he stares at Eskild. “Who on earth is –“

“Isak!”

Isak doesn’t even have time to wince from his name being bellowed straight into his ear before he has an armful of Eskild clinging onto him and shaking him around as he hugs him – or squeezes the life out of him.

“What are you doing here?” Isak’s voice is muffled from where his mouth is pressed against Eskild’s shoulder. At least Eskild’s close enough to be able to make it out anyway.

“Noora brought me!” Eskild steps back, but doesn’t let go of the arm he has slung around Isak’s shoulders. He points over to the blonde girl standing next to Sana.

“But – but –“ seriously, Isak’s mind is melted. “But that’s Eva’s Noora.”

Things do not compute.

“Are you telling me,” Isak continues, magnanimously ignoring Eskild’s snort, “that Eva’s Noora is also your Noora?”

“Technically, my Noora is also Eva’s Noora, because I had her first,” Eskild insists indignantly, pointing accusingly over at Eva who only rolls her eyes fondly, skips on close to fold her arms around Eskild’s side. “She’s just lucky she’s cool enough for me to hang out around her as well.”

“Yes, of course, darling, that’s why,” Eva laughs and then bounds on into the kitchen to get something to drink.

“But –“ Isak’s worlds are collapsing. He – but – what?

Eskild barks out a laugh. “Oh my god, that face is excuse enough for ghosting me the past couple of weeks.”

“I haven’t ghosted you,” Isak tries to protest, but Eskild doesn’t let him. It’d be a lie, anyway, kind of. He just – Eskild will know, because that’s what Eskild does, and Isak can’t – he can’t have people he cares about worrying about him again, can’t let them know that their faith in him is wasted. He can’t lose everything else too.

He finally catches sight of Magnus and Jonas out of the corner of his eye, both of them looking frantically between Isak, Eskild, and then finally over to Eva and Noora for some type of explanation.

“Oh, uh –“ Isak wracks his brain for the words that seem to be evading him. “Gutter, this is Eskild – Eskild, this is –“

Eskild holds up his hand in front of Isak’s face, startling him badly enough that he stops talking. Isak blinks confusedly.

Eskild narrows his eyes as he stares at Jonas and Magnus. Jonas and Magnus’ eyes, in turn, widen at the scrutinizing glare they’re currently on the receiving end of. Isak’s been in their place before, when he’d sneak out to see Even and come back in the early morning to Eskild hiding his worry behind reprimanding scolding and demands that he leave his GPS on next time he wants to go out ‘partying’.

Isak doubts Eskild ever thought he was out partying, mostly because he never came back hung over or drunk still, and he didn’t reek of booze, no more than the beer or weed Even would share with him on rare occasions. But it’s not like Isak could tell him what he was actually doing, and it’s also not like it was outside the realm of possibility considering how Isak and Eskild first met.

“Don’t tell me,” Eskild removes his hand from Isak’s face to point between Jonas and Magnus. “Are they the ones you left me for?”

Isak blinks, again. Magnus still can’t get his eyes off of Eskild, but Jonas is looking decisively more worried in Isak’s direction.

Isak sighs when Eskild keeps pointing. “I didn’t leave you –“

“Aha!”

Magnus jumps a foot into the air and nearly trips of the doorstep leading into the living room. He bumps into one of Mahdi’s jock friends instead, who in turn spills beer all over the floor. Great.

“So they are the ones you left me for!” Eskild finishes, not the slightest bit perturbed over the chain of events he’d just put in motion.

“What are you even, they – no,” Isak flaps his hands about, resorting to poking Eskild’s shoulder when he looks less and less inclined to believe him. “This is Jonas and Magnus, whom I’ve only been living with along with Mahdi for less than a month, and you know this, because I told you this back in July.”

Eskild mulls it over, still glaring at Jonas and Magnus, apparently to Noora and Eva’s amusement, but whatever he finds can’t be too bad when he immediately switches over to a blinding smile and introduces himself to them properly.

Isak hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath, nearly still doesn’t until it all comes rushing out of him and he suddenly feels a little weak in the knees.

“How d’you know Isak, then?” Jonas asks, sounding more polite than terrified, which is more than what Magnus is managing to do.

Eskild opens his mouth, ready to launch into the tale of woe of how the two of them had met, and Eskild playing the part of the hero and taking in the lost duckling wandering the streets, drunk and completely out of his mind.

It’s not like it’s something Isak’s ashamed about, and he knows Eskild would never tell anyone about the part where he’d apparently begged him not to make him go home, but Isak –

Isak’s entire life is built on lies upon lies – lie about your mom not feeling well, she’s fine, she’s just stressed, don’t tell anyone you’re gay, don’t tell anyone about Even, and on, and on, and on, and somewhere along the way, Isak’s sort of forgotten how to share any parts of himself that aren’t just on the surface.

So he cuts in right as Eskild gets out how it was a cold, dark night – which isn’t true, because it was spring, so it was at most chilly – and says, “I used to live with him in a Kollektiv, back before uni.”

Magnus’ eyes widen impossibly further. “Shit, you’d already moved out in high school?”

Isak shrugs, ignores the feeling of Eskild’s eyes on him, considering how he was technically barely in high school by the time he moved in, and ignores how incredulous the looks he’s given from the people who don’t know the story make his stomach feels like it’s turned to lead, or maybe the opposite, like it’s so light he might be sick.

Eskild saves him. Eskild always saves him, and it doesn’t make his stomach feel any less like it’s filled with lead when Isak thinks of how he has been blowing him off and ghosting him.

“And then he left me. Depraving me of my son –“

“Fuck off –“

“My only son –“

“And I didn’t leave you –“

“Herre Gud,” Noora laughs. “How dramatic were you when I left for Spain, then?”

Noora is a goddamn savior and Isak will go down fighting for her. He can’t help the wince, though, because he knows, and he’s fairly certain that Noora knows too, just how much Eskild can talk once he gets going, and nothing can get him going more than Noora literally fleeing the country.

He physically takes a step back, and whilst Magnus is still looking incredibly confused, Jonas is now looking mildly concerned, and Noora, bless the girl, is trying her best to keep face.

Eskild narrows his eyes. “If you take away the ‘s’ in Spain, what are you left with?”

Isak frowns. Judging by the put-upon look on Noora’s face, this isn’t the first time she’s heard this.

“Pain,” she sighs.

“No,” Eskild sasses. “You’re left with me, in Oslo, where I’ve been abandoned.” Pauses dramatically. “And the only feeling I was able to feel when you abandoned me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Isak groans, pinching at Eskild’s side to get him to let go of him, then flays his hands around in everyone’s direction. “Kitchen’s that way, living room’s the other, do not have sex in my room, Eskild.”

“Why am I being singled out?”

Isak doesn’t deign to answer, just levels Eskild with a look until Eskild nods, goes, “fair enough,” and giggles with Eva.

God, Isak wants a drink. He wants many drinks, but the thought of having more than the one beer he’s been nursing so far makes him feel a bit ill, so he heads into the living room instead of the kitchen.

He doesn’t know why it’s so difficult. It doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t know why the thought of standing near Eskild makes him feel so anxious, why he feels angry when he sees Eskild laughing with Eva or Noora, why he can’t be at ease just like them. Guilt and shame mixes uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. He plasters on a grin when four guys recognize him, cheering and waving their beers at him.

He doesn’t walk over to them. He’s fairly certain they’re in some of Jonas’ classes, but he’s not certain enough he’s willing to chance making a fool of himself. He feels like he’s slowly creeping out of his own skin, like he’s inches from falling apart. It’s exhausting. Isak’s exhausted. And the apartment’s in a tip and he can feel a headache coming on from the music, and he doesn’t know when he became this person.

Or – he does, but he doesn’t want to think about it.

This is better, Isak tries to convince himself. If it isn’t better than – than that, then it’s at least better than when he was drinking himself into oblivion any waking hour, when he was drinking so much he’d wake up still drunk and then just start drinking again. The fact that he came away without having to get his stomach pumped even once is more of a miracle than Isak thinks anyone will ever get to experience.

There’s a movie playing on the television, the same one they’ve had streaming pretty much since it was released. It’s one of Even’s. Somehow, Isak doesn’t know why, but somehow Magnus always manages to talk them all into giving him TV-rights to choose what will be playing, and it’s always one of Even’s movies.

This time it’s ‘Circles’, Even’s newest one that Isak hadn’t been strong enough to not watch it in the middle of the night about a week after you’d been able to stream it. The recommendation taunting him whenever he’d wanted to relax until he’d caved. But he’d been strong enough to not check out any of the reviews for it. Except then Magnus had ended up yelling how it’s been nominated for an award, but Isak still counts it as a personal win that he hadn’t looked it up himself. Baby steps. Just enough to fool himself into believing he’s getting better.

Maybe if he fools himself long enough he’ll actually start to believe it.

At least either the volume is too low for Isak to hear any of it, or everyone around him is too loud for Isak to hear any of it.

He finally makes his way over to the window. He wants to crack it open, but he knows that’s a bad idea. They’re bound to get a noise complaint sooner or later, opening the window would only make it much sooner.

Maybe he should open the window. He can see Jonas and Eva’s reflections in window, can hear Magnus’ laughter from another room, can see a glimpse of Mahdi chatting up some girl Isak doesn’t recognize. He scowls at all of them, feels something ugly swirl around in his stomach.

No. No, he reminds himself, presses his face against the glass pane, shivering at the cold shock it brings. They’re his friends – his best friends – and just because this year, the year that was supposed to be Isak’s year, has gotten off with a bit of a bad start doesn’t mean Isak can take it out on his best friends. It’s not their faults Isak’s such a fuck up.

Besides, it’s not like it’s too late, really. Surely if Isak just tried harder, things would go back to normal. Better than normal, even, because that had been Isak’s goal when he moved all his stuff into the room at the end of the hall, put on his blue-striped bed sheets and listened to Magnus waxing poetry about some sex dream he’d had and Jonas and Mahdi taking the piss out of him.

It’s not just the boys, though, is the thing. Isak knows he’s been shitty to Eskild too. He can hear him out in the kitchen, laughing and chanting chug, chug, chug and generally encouraging a mess Isak’s bound to be the one cleaning up later.

This is the year he’s supposed to get things right, to stop feeling so wrong all the goddamn time, and that’s not going to happen if he’s sulking in a corner the entire night.

He’s just got to get better at acting, Isak convinces himself. Squares his shoulders, straightens his back, and just breathes.

If he gets better at acting, then the boys will stop acting so awkward around him. They’ll stop walking on eggshells and they’ll stop looking at Isak like he’s a stranger in their house.

He walks away from the window, hand clutching his beer bottle. He’s shaking and his palm feels clammy from sweat. He really hopes it isn’t noticeable, any of it. Not just the shaking and the sweating.

“Isak!” A hand clamps down onto his shoulder so harshly it jostles Isak’s forwards until he nearly falls flat on his face. “Jesus, how much you had to drink?”

Isak turns to see some guy, one of Mahdi’s football friends by the looks of it, going off of the build and the muscles.

Isak tries to grin as he worms his way out from under the guy’s hand until he’s facing him. “Not nearly enough.”

The guy cheers and holds up his own cup of brown sludge that Isak doesn’t particularly want to witness him downing.

He’s lucky for once. Football-guy gets distracted when a girl accidentally puffs to him when she passes. He spends approximately fifteen seconds staring at her ass as she continues on her way, all of which Isak spends judging him.

“How you been, man?” the guy tries again. “Haven’t seen you since that party at Mikael’s.”

Something lurches through Isak’s body, cold dread that he has to fight to clamber down into nothing he’ll accidentally give away. He should open his mouth, he’s about to – should say Oh, yeah, wasn’t feeling well, and then immediately follow it up by a question that’ll give the guy talking.

Except he’s saved from having to do any of that.

“Who is Mikael?” Eskild slithers up from behind Isak. He tries his best not to jump or tense up, because it’s Eskild and there’s no reason for him to be tense. It’s stupid. He’s stupid. It’s all stupid. “And why have I not been introduced to him?”

Isak still tenses at the touch, but it’s Eskild, so Isak tries to not make it too obvious.

“Magnus’ friend,” Isak has to twist his head to the side so he’s nearly shouting directly into Eskild’s ear. “I don’t really know him.”

Present tense, because Mikael might’ve changed. He might not make the same kind of jokes or like the same action movies with far too many explosions for them to be contributing to any kind of storyline anymore. He might not like a cool glass of saft when he comes home or to lounge around outside when the weather’s nice anymore. He might not even be in contact with Even anymore and the party had just been a one-off.

“Oh. By the way, Mahdi told me to give you this and to tell you to stop leaving it around everywhere,” Eskild sounds bored as he hands over Isak’s hoodie.

Isak’s heart feels like it’s stuck in his throat when he grabs on to it.

“Can’t believe you’ve still got it, it’s so old.” Eskild turns his attention onto the jock instead. “And who might you be, then?”

Isak rolls his eyes so hard he actually misses the introduction. He tunes back in when Eskild lingers in the handshake and the guy is grinning nervously, switching between looking at Isak and looking at Eskild.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” the guy says when Eskild has buggered off somewhere else, even as he had walked away while looking over his shoulder on too many times for it to be anything other than intentional.

Fear flashes through him. Half of the sip of beer splutters out of Isak’s mouth while the other half blocks his airways until Isak is coughing and red-faced and looking incredibly unattractive.

“Eskild?” Isak grimaces. “No. No, no, no. Definitely not my boyfriend.” Shit, does that sound like he’s denying it too much, thus reversing the intention and effect of a denial?

Why would he even be asking that? Is it only because of Eskild or has Isak done something that would warrant – Shit, Isak can’t think about it now, he’s at the middle of a party in his own home, he can’t leave.

“Oh,” the guy looks taken aback, even as his eyes wander off towards the direction Eskild had disappeared in. Oh, indeed. “There’s nothing going on between –“

“He’s my old roommate,” Isak cuts in, and says with a finality that hopefully sticks, “that’s it.”

“Oh,” the guy repeats. He isn’t even looking at Isak anymore. “Do you mind then if I –“

“Go for it,” Isak slaps him on the back, steps around him and gets the hell out of dodge. Jesus, has he unintentionally become the designated matchmaker? A lot of people seemingly have a lot of faith in him for that particular job, despite Isak having zero interest in most people.

The flat is a mess already and the party has only been going for about an hour. There are empty cans and bottles on every flat surface and Isak shouldn’t, he shouldn’t start cleaning. He should be mingling and helping Magnus hook up with someone and rip into him with Mahdi and Jonas when he starts asking the wrong question. He shouldn’t be isolating himself by cleaning.

Isak sighs, deep and long-sufferingly, and grabs a clear plastic bag from the cabinet and starts collecting the cans, avoiding any he can feel liquid still swishing around in the bottom. The metal clanks against each other in a way Isak more so feels than hears over the music pounding in the entire flat. They’re going to get noise complaints, for sure. Isak has no idea how the guys had thought this would ever have been a good idea.

Except, had they asked him those weeks ago if he wanted to help host a party, Isak probably would’ve agreed to it. He would’ve been keyed up and he would’ve participated, and he would’ve been drinking properly instead of how he’s been nursing his single bottle of beer for the entire night before he’d finally given up after a few sips.

He doesn’t know how he’s come to feel like this, doesn’t know why he’s feeling like this. He’d promised himself that he wasn’t going to be drinking excessively, that this was the year he was going to actually try and succeed. So far it’s only felt like one failure right after the other.

He hasn’t become a better friend. Instead, they’re all tip-toeing around him because they’re too afraid when he’s going to snap and run off again. The need to run is constant, but Isak has a feeling that the snap will be happening because of something else entirely if the boys don’t cut it out.

He hasn’t become a better student – he’s barely understood half of the lectures and he’s less than impressed with the homework he’s been doing. Sana’s going to kill him if he doesn’t get his act together soon.

Failure after failure. But the not drinking part, that Isak can gain control over, or so he hopes. Maybe he doesn’t fully trust himself, hence why he hadn’t dared more than the beer.

There’s a couple making out up against the wall next to their front door that’s open and has more people spilling in. They all clap Isak’s back when they pass him, seemingly knowing him because they all shout out his name in greeting. Isak doesn’t recall meeting any of them ever, and wonders if it’s because he’s just inattentive to anyone he doesn’t think of as his friend, or if he’s actually met these people and just can’t remember them because all they’d been was a means to get drunk.

“How are things looking?” someone, Sana, yells into his ear.

Isak stumbles back, startled, but it just turns to annoyance when he sees Sana looking way too smug. He opens his mouth to tell her off, but she seems to be able to predict what he’s about to say so she just rolls her eyes and interrupts him.

“With the plan.”

Isak groans. The plan. The plan he was supposed to have but most definitely doesn’t.

“I tried!” He hadn’t. “It’s just that –“

Oh god, one of Sana’s eyebrows arch up into her forehead. Shit, Isak’s in trouble.

“Last I checked,” she drawls, actually drawls, “I haven’t seen you near Magnus, and you didn’t even say hi to Vilde when she came in.”

The most amount of trouble. Sana levels a very unimpressed look at him.

And Isak doesn’t have a single excuse.

To be fair, the Eskild-thing had kind of distracted him quite a bit, but he doubts Sana has the empathy required to let him get away with such a statement, so Isak doesn’t even bother.

“Magnus is in the kitchen, go.” Sana pushes him along the way, making him stumble over the floor.

He turns around to level a glare at her, but she’s managed to disappear before he can, and then when he turns around again to head into the kitchen, he nearly runs over Vilde in the process.

“Fy faen, Vilde!” he exclaims, reaches out to grab onto her shoulders to steady her, even as he hadn’t actually touched her. “Shit. You can’t just stand behind –”

Vilde’s frowning at him. “Why does Emma Larzen think she’s welcome here?” she asks in lieu of a proper reply or greeting. “Isn’t she a first year?”

The dread isn’t a welcome feeling. It’s chilling and hot at the same time, and Isak feels clammy and disgusting as his heart picks up its speed and he glances around the room, whatever of the hallway, frantically, but trying to downplay it so Vilde doesn’t question him about it.

“Is she here?” he manages to get out.

“No. But she DM’ed me, asking for your address and said you weren’t answering your phone.”

Isak wants to groan, wants to throw his head back. Wants to kick all of these people out.

He wants to go to bed and sleep for an eternity, or maybe just go to sleep and never wake up, but that’s a bit too gloomy for his own taste, so he ignores that stray urge.

“Just –“ he tries to think of something that wouldn’t seem odd. “Just ignore her.”

That just makes Vilde frown further. “I can’t just ignore her,” she protests. “I’ve already read her message. I can’t just leave her on ‘read’.”

“Well, you’re going to have to,” Isak side-steps her and heads for the kitchen. Jesus, this isn’t going very well, but it’ll be easier to finagle Magnus into doing his bidding than it would be Vilde, Isak is fairly sure.

Unless Jonas is there. Or Mahdi. Then everything will be downright impossible and Isak will sue Sana.

Both Jonas and Mahdi are in the kitchen, and they’re both talking to Magnus, as if they can’t stand in group formation literally any other time during the day, because it’s not like they live together or anything. Fuck, this is going to take a lot more effort than Isak had originally imagined.

Mahdi is the one who spots him first. He looks annoyed, but not at Isak at least.

It’s not helpful enough to not make Isak feel horribly out of place, though.

He shuffles closer at Mahdi’s beckon just in time to hear Magnus blurt out some nonsense that doesn’t make sense out of context, something about word just spreading.

“It’s a lot more people than we’d agreed on,” Mahdi fills him in once he’s close enough. He looks at Isak like he expects him to back him up, which – alright Isak isn’t thrilled either, but he wouldn’t have been thrilled with half the people who’ve shown up either. He wonders when that happened; when did he become the grumpy friend who just wants to stay in and be alone? And why can’t he shake himself out of that funk?

Jonas is frowning, eyebrows curling and filling most of his forehead. “Alright, so it’s a couple more people than anticipated, but – why are you so mad? You’re usually pretty chill about everything –��� and shuts up at whatever face Mahdi makes at him. Isak elects to ignore it, though, as he’s fairly certain Mahdi was gesturing to him.

Jonas does have a point, though, but Mahdi is also the first one to give any of them shit for messing up. Isak is definitely willing to count the group of girls giggling about a spilled vodka bottle a mess-up.

“What happens if we get a noise complaint, huh? If our landlord sees this mess, we’re fucked. We’re never getting that deposit back.”

Magnus snorts. “We weren’t getting that back anyway – remember the incident when we moved in?”

“We agreed not to mention that ever again,” Mahdi glares at him.

“Hey, I covered that up fantastically, thank you very much. We could’ve at least fooled him into giving the money back,” Isak protests, magnanimously ignoring Jonas snorting about handyman Isak, which had been a nickname Isak had worked extremely hard to get rid of. “Why don’t we – let’s just start cleaning, alright?”

Shit, he hadn’t meant to sound so tired. Jonas is giving him ‘the eyes’ again and Magnus is looking at him oddly for no going bigger on the ‘I told you so’ he’s never been shy at shoving in their faces. God, how did Isak manage to fuck up twice in one sentence?

“Isak –“ Jonas starts, but Isak doesn’t let him finish. Doesn’t want for him to.

“I’ll start getting rid of the cans. Just –“ he turns to Mahdi, “relax, alright? We’ll fix it,” and then hurries to get out of there before one of them can grab a hold of him.

It’s surprisingly easy enough to ignore the feeling of his heart being wrenched out of chest and the insurmountable panic and worries looming over his head when the music really is so damn loud and there are so many people within the enclosed space. Isak has to push over a couple making out in front of the built-in closet where they keep the cleaning supplies and the clear bin bags, and the soundtrack of lips smacking together disgustingly shouldn’t overpower the sound of the stereo, but somehow it does.

They shuffle over willingly enough, at least, probably barely noticing they’re being moved if Isak’s being honest with himself.

And whilst he’s being honest with himself, Isak knows Mahdi’s issue isn’t the party or how many people have shown up or how much a pigsty their flat is currently in, or whether or not they’ll get back that stupid deposit that wasn’t that much in the first place. No, Mahdi never would’ve even noticed all those things if it had been any other evening before the party at Mikael’s, before Isak started acting weird, because Mahdi would’ve been in the bathroom or his own room smoking from his stash and making friends and probably figuring out which girl he’d want to kiss at the end of the night.

What Mahdi’s issue is, is Isak. And Isak hates that feeling clawing at his chest at the thought. Hates that he knows that’s what this is about, that the boys can’t even be subtle enough to hide it.

It’s not even the fact that the only reason Isak isn’t being interrogated by them is because of how much he apparently scared them with his disappearing act that’s bothering Isak. Or that they’ve supposedly been so focused on Isak and whatever the hell his problem is that they’re walking on eggshells around him, yet he was still so forgettable they didn’t even mention they were throwing a party that he not only was to attend but also invite people to join. It’s not the guilty, pitying glances they keep throwing him, and the halfhearted explanations and apologies that won’t stop no matter how many times Isak insists, “it’s fine, just an honest mistake, don’t worry about it, we’re good, I’m fine.” It’s not that he’s entirely unable to sleep anymore, just tossing and turning in his bed instead until he slips into a fitful slumber in the wee hours of the morning until his alarm wakes him up.

Or maybe it’s all of those things. Because what’s bothering Isak is how he can’t get this to quiet down.

Not the party. Parties are always loud, and this one is no exception. He doesn’t need people around him to stop talking, because lord knows the guys are already filtering out most of their sentences and conversation just to not accidentally say the wrong thing. It’s inside his head he can’t get things to shut the hell up.

He rips two bags off before figuring he probably won’t keep at it for long enough to fill them up, and then stuffs everything back in the closet. There’re already plenty cans and bottles lining every single flat surface, so it’s easy enough to pick up two empty cans and make his way back into the kitchen to make sure they’re fully drained.

Mahdi isn’t there when he gets back. Both Jonas and Magnus are still there, but Magnus is talking to someone Isak doesn’t know, and Jonas has Eva pressed up against the wall. Isak has a foreign twinge to go over there and so something stupid like, right in front of my salad?, because that’s something he would’ve done – has done, back when they were moving in and Eva was helping out, because who’d know how the place would’ve ended up looking like if they didn’t make a system from the get-go.

But then the other feeling is back, the one he can’t seem to shake. The one that makes him walk over to the sink instead, turn his back on both Magnus and Jonas, and just stare as a couple drops of beer spills into the sink and he can dunk the bottles into one of the bin bags.

There are enough empty, used, and opened bottles and cans on the kitchen counter as well, so Isak systematically goes through each; drains them, dunks them, repeat. He can hear people talking around him, laughing, cheering, and it feels oddly isolating not to be doing the same.

“Hey,” he hears, his heart jumps into his throat and he whirls around only to see Noora.

She’s nursing a glass of water, Isak fairly sure because he doesn’t think she drinks. There’s a tiny smudge of red on the rim of the glass from her lipstick, but it isn’t noticeable on her lips. She’s smiling at him, small and friendly.

“Hei,” he greets back, maybe straining too much to sound happy for it to come off as authentic, but Noora is nice enough to not let her judging show or to react to it at all. “Everything alright?”

She nods, takes another sip of water. Isak’s hands itch to do something, but he thinks it’s too rude to turn his back on her to continue what he was doing, so he can’t do anything but let the twitchy anxiety settle over him.

“Du vet, with all the times I had Eskild moaning how you never did any housework, I never expected to see you get started on cleaning with the party still going on.”

Isak laughs, ends a little too short and stilted. He feels weird talking about Eskild, guilty at not having spoken to Eskild for so long. He’s gotten so used to no one knowing anything about his life previous to university – besides just very general things. It had been easy to play along when the boys had been moaning about how simultaneously hard and freeing it was to finally have moved out of their parents’ home instead of having to admit Isak hadn’t living his parents for years at that point. Having someone know that, having them know about Eskild, and having Noora who’s lived with Eskild too and knows exactly his quirks and personality traits and how much of a saint he can be but also how goddamn annoying leaves Isak feeling on edge around them.

“Nei,” he looks down at his feet so he won’t have to look at Noora. “Mahdi was freaking out about the mess, though, so I figured I’d just get a head-start, you know?”

She doesn’t nod and doesn’t say anything, and Isak doesn’t know what to do with that.

“Anyway, it’s nice to be able to see the counter,” he tries, then actually looks at the counter and wrinkles his nose. “Or maybe not. God, I swear it’s not usually this gross.” He chances a touch and instantly pulls back much to Noora’s amusement. “Christ, that’s sticky. Alright, don’t touch that.”

“You can’t still be grossed out a sticky stuff after having lived with Eskild, can you?” she laughs. “God knows what the state of his bedding was like when I wasn’t cleaning it for him while you lived there.”

Isak blinks. Why would she – why would Isak know what the state of Eskild’s bedding was like? Why would she think he was in Eskild’s room, on Eskild’s bed? Was she –

“Hallo!”

Isak jumps, startled out of whatever spiral he’d fallen into that only would’ve ended with him pathetically defending his straightness and possibly yelling at Noora, to look at Sana pissed face. Fuck, Isak does not need any more problems.

She arches an eyebrow at him, like that will do anything. Isak tries arching one back, but he thinks he just ends up raising both of them.

She scoffs at him, which – still isn’t helpful – and then levels her best glare at him. Isak does a body wiggle he knows to be equally unhelpful, and he only relishes a little bit in how Sana manages to look even more annoyed with him at that.

In the end, she only needs to say two words. “The plan.”

Fuck.

Isak is so done.

He levels his own glare at her, sneers a “Fine,” that at least sounds more sassy than angry, and worms his way through Noora and Sana with the two bin bags only partially filled.

He’d just seen Magnus, he could definitely get him to follow him around until they end up bumping into Vilde, who better not have already found someone to make out with or Isak will actually leave.

It’s by total accident and perfect surprise when he turns around to get to Magnus and accidentally bumps into Vilde for the second time that night.

“Ah, Vilde, perfect!” Isak hands over the two bags filled with empty bottles. “Do you mind taking these down to the first room on the left? I’ve kind of got my hands full here,” he shrugs, all apologetically and the worst part is that it works brilliantly.

Vilde is wide-eyed, as she always is when someone starts speaking to her, and she clearly isn’t fully prepared when Isak transfers the handles over to her hands – her phone is in one of her hands like Emma is still trying to get a hold of the party info – but all it takes is a gentle puff and she’s on her way down the hallway.

Isak counts to five until he snags a hand around Magnus’ elbow, drawing him out of whatever conversation he’d been having.

“Shit, Mags, there were some weird chirping noises coming from your room. Did you leave your window open again?”

Magnus groans and shoves his half-filled beer bottle at Isak, who barely manages to catch it without spilling it all over himself. “If there’s a freaking dove inside my room again, we are moving, I don’t even care –“

And off he goes. Isak should put this on his resume – professional cupid, as long as it doesn’t concern his own relationships where he will flop epically.

Yeah, maybe not. Except for how Sana looks begrudgingly impressed with Isak’s ingenuity. That’s a novel look on her.

“You know,” Noora clinks her soda can against Isak’s newly acquired beer. “You shouldn’t refer to girls as birds.”

Isak snorts. “I’m just introducing them to a different version of the ‘cat and mouse’-game. Cat-and-bird, in this case, I think.”

Noora groans. “Oh god, no more cat-talk, please.”

“I don’t know,” Isak raises the beer to his lips, ignoring the voice in his head screaming about germs and the other quieter one, telling him he’d agreed to stop. “Maybe this is the push they needed to get the cat out of the bag.”

Noora rolls her head back. “Det var kattens.”

“Are you two seriously just making cat-puns over there?”

OOOOO

It’s just gone past half two in the morning when enough people have fizzled out of the apartment that Isak doesn’t feel guilty for sinking down on the couch with a heavy sigh. There’s a boy and girl making out in an armchair in the corner of the living room, too wrapped up in each other to notice how few people are left. Maybe Isak should get up and tell them to head out, before the state of that armchair will be questionable at best and ready to throw out at worst, but Jonas is closer and has spotted them already.

Besides, Isak’s exhausted, physically and mentally. He’s just – done.

He blinks tiredly as Jonas gets the couple’s attention and nods towards the door. The girl giggles, fixes her clothes as she gets off the guy’s lap and stands up. Thankfully neither of them get mad for the interruption – Jonas looks tired, too, but happy tired. A I’ve-spent-the-entire-evening-having-fun kind of tired. A tired completely opposite to Isak’s kind of tired.

There are bottles and cans lined up on the coffee table that Isak knows he should probably clean now before they have permanent stains on the surface. Eva will fuss over those every time she comes over, but it’s too hard work trying to get his limbs to cooperate, let alone actually get up and do something, so Isak just remains there, sitting and staring and thinking of all the things he should be doing instead of this.

Eva’s half-asleep on the other couch, leaning against Vilde who keeps sneaking glances over at Magnus incredibly non-subtly – well, then again, everything is relative, and she certainly is more subtle than Magnus’ blatant staring – as she talks to Noora about something.

It’s startling a bit, the contrast of how quiet it’s gone. They still have some music on in the background, but it’s a lot quieter than what had been playing earlier, and someone’s changed it from the party-playlist to the one with miscellaneous calmer songs they’d jokingly put together to play whenever one of them are in a bad mood. It’s been mysteriously absent considering just how much Isak’s been messing things up the last little while.

Eskild slumps down next to him, or, more so fully on him. He’s warm and sweaty and Isak is at least a little bit grossed out, but then he remembers that the first time he met Eskild, he’d vomited on his shoes. Suddenly, warm and sweaty doesn’t seem as bad, even if there is a threat of other bodily fluids still being on him.

“How was the big jock, then?” Isak teases. Eskild smiles up at him dopily, all dazed and blessed out, and maybe Isak would worry if he didn’t know what that particular face means.

“Klaus,” Eskild corrects, making Isak rolls his eyes, “was great, thank you very much.”

“You done enough hooking up for the night?”

Eskild sighs, very put-upon in the exact way he always does when he’s about to sprout off some older ‘wisdom’ at Isak. “This is a university party, Isak, not some little high school gathering you might be used to.”

Isak rolls his eyes, but doesn’t interrupt Eskild to remind him this is his second year at university.

“I don’t waste my time on menial hook ups.”

“What have you been doing for the last hour, then?” Isak questions before he can consider the consequences. “Discussing refugee crises?”

“Very funny,” Eskild dead-pans. “And don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to. Unless you’re prepared to know exactly the places my mouth and his mouth have been –“

Isak lets out an unintelligible string of noises to cut off Eskild. “You just said you didn’t kiss him!”

“’Kissing’,” Eskild uses two fingers on each hand to make quotation marks. “You never mentioned anything about sex.”

Isak groans, rolls his head back onto the couch while Eskild cackles as he sits up properly next to him. “Please tell me you at least didn’t do it in my room.”

Eskild shrugs and rolls his eyes. “Like it would’ve been the first time.”

Isak definitely does not squeak. He yells out indignantly.

“It was the room with all the fit lads plastered onto the walls,” Eskild takes a sip of his beer. “Can’t have been your room, then, your straightness would’ve felt attacked by the mere presence of someone cuter than you near your bed.”

Isak rolls his eyes again, but doesn’t comment on it. Mahdi’s room then, if Isak guesses correctly based on the various FIFA paraphernalia Mahdi has collected over the years. He should remember to remind Mahdi to wash the sheets before he falls asleep there.

Maybe not right now, though, he thinks as Mahdi falls down onto one of their beanbags, laughing back over his shoulder at something Magnus has said.

It doesn’t matter that Eskild is technically as ‘out’ as one can be, the thought of gossiping about what Eskild, a boy, has done with another boy is enough to get Isak’s heart pounding a beat too fast.

He hurries to look away from both Mahdi and Eskild, turns his head to the left instead and looks as Jonas wrinkles his nose at the armchair that had nearly been used by strangers. Isak makes a mental note not to get close to the chair for the next while unless he be the one getting stuck with cleaning it.

Jonas sandwiches himself down on the other couch between the armrest and Eva, who immediately leans up against him, grinning widely. Magnus drags a chair over, Chris claims the other beanbag, and Sana settles on the opposite armrest to Jonas’, the one next to Noora, who immediately wraps her arm around Sana’s middle to keep her from falling off.

It’s unnerving how seamlessly it all plays out, like this isn’t the first time they’ve all been together at the same place, with all of them aware of the others’ presences, at least.

“Are you seriously telling me,” Mahdi groans, ”that out of all of us, only one got lucky tonight?”

Isak immediately notices how both Magnus and Vilde flush a brilliantly matching red and refuse to look at each other, but he thinks he might be the only one with how Eskild’s cackle and Jonas’ immediate complains steal everyone’s attention.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve got Eva which means you’re perpetually happy,” Mahdi waves off Jonas without listening to anything he’s said, and holds his fist out for Eskild to bump.

“I think this might be the straightest thing I’ve done all night.”

Isak snorts. “That doesn’t say a lot,” and tries to smother his laugh at Eskild’s affronted look.

“Noora,” he immediately whines when Isak refuses to give him any sympathy. “Come sit with me instead of this grumpy boy,” batting his eyelashes for extra effect, as if that’ll be enough.

Noora coos at Eskild from the other couch, but doesn’t move. She does, however, diplomatically add, “I’m quite sure dissing is reserved for those who haven’t gotten laid.”

Isak grumbles unintelligibly as Eskild gleefully grabs onto his shoulder and shakes him around. It’s mostly groaning noises coming out of Isak’s mouth, but it doesn’t really matter with how loud the rest of them are being.

“C’mon, baby grump,” Eskild needles him, still managing to poke him more often than not despite Isak’s best attempts. “Gimmie the gossip, the 411.”

He’s waggling his eyebrows dramatically until Isak rolls his eyes and pushes his face away.

“Oh, come on! It’s the least you can do after practically dropping off the face of the planet for the last forever!”

Isak’s stomach churns with guilt, and it’s so familiar – especially over the last little while – but also so dizzily overwhelming Isak nearly throws caution to the win and just chugs down the remaining half of the vodka bottle from earlier that he knows is still in the kitchen.

He doesn’t.

He remains sitting on the couch, surrounded by his friends and he doesn’t touch a drop of alcohol.

“It hasn’t been that long,” he tries instead, even though it has. He makes half-assed attempts of excuses, because he’s apparently both a shitty person and a shitty friend. And he sees how Eskild just knows it’s all bullshit, but because he’s Eskild he doesn’t comment on it and just lets Isak get away with it, probably realizing that confronting him right now would amount to nothing seeing as Isak is a mess barely holding on by a thread.

Mahdi and Magnus are suddenly worryingly quiet compared to the girls and Eskild, and Isak knows, okay, he fucking knows what they’re thinking about, what the real ‘411’ is. How a world-famous, award-winning-and-nominated movie director apparently knows Isak, and how Isak would literally rather run away than deal with it, scaring his friends into keeping quiet even as they can tell something is really, really wrong.

That gossip. Shit, Isak feels sick. He always does nowadays, and he’s sick of feeling sick.

He can’t tell if Jonas thinks he’s being sly or not, the way he looks at Mahdi and Magnus as if reminding them to keep quiet, Isak can only tell that he really fucking isn’t being smooth or covert about it at all, but pointing it out also means pointing everything else out, so Isak stays quiet. As always.

“You can go into his room and stare at his four non-decorated walls, and then you can walk to campus from classroom to classroom and go visit the library,” Jonas lists on his fingers. “That’s the extent of Isak’s 411.”

Eskild blinks comically.

“That’s it?” he blurts out, much to Sana’s amusement. Isak levels a glare in her direction that she not so smoothly pretends not to have seen. “Seriøst?” and levels a majorly unimpressed look at Isak. “Seriøst?” he repeats.

“What?” Isak knocks his arms out. “What did you expect me to do? Go frolicking at a uni club? Hook up in a storage closet? Chug my body weight in shots at the student union?”

“Yes. All of the above.”

Isak wrinkles his nose. “’Seriøst?’” he mocks.

“Seriøst!” Eskild doesn’t even comment on the sass. “Where are all the stories? The juice? The mind-blowing sex parties and crazy exes?”

Mahdi snorts and his face is relaxed, but his shoulders are tense. “Pretty sure Isak is the most drama-free out of all of us.”

Isak almost wants to laugh at that – if it didn’t seem more tempting to fall down a hole and stay there for eternity – or at the very least at Eskild’s very comically disbelieving face.

“Isak?” Eskild asks, pointing at him. “This Isak? This very specimen of an Isak? Are you sure we’re talking about the same Isak?”

“You forgot about the coffee shop he insists on visiting before a study session so he’s late for every single one of them,” Sana deadpans, her façade only cracking when Isak flips her off.

“Coffee dates, at least?” Eskild asks him hopelessly, slumping back on the couch way too dramatically when Isak shakes his head. “So you don’t go out – does that mean there’s just a slew of people coming in and out of this place?”

“Hey!” Isak objects, vaguely affronted at the insinuation, smacking Eskild’s arm. “And just how many times did I have to walk in on you doing it because you couldn’t move from the living room to your bedroom?”

Eskild doesn’t even have the gall to flush – life is unfair. Both Noora and Eva are cackling and pointing at each other whilst wheezing out half words, but it’s enough for Isak to conclude Eskild probably hasn’t stopped that habit after Isak moved out.

This is good, though. Moving the topic away from Isak’s antics when everything in his head is screaming at him, too close, too close, they’ll find out, they’ll just know.

“You never bring anyone back!” Magnus calls out and why did he think now was a good time to rejoin the conversation – and with that remark?

Eskild gapes over at him. “Isak isn’t scoring anyone?”

Magnus frowns. “I mean – I guess he isn’t. Shit, I hadn’t even thought about that.”

“That can’t be, though,” Chris interrupts. “I’m in an entirely different program, but even I hear girls talking about him.”

“Uh, hallo, I’m sitting right here,” Isak reminds them, thankfully sounding more sassy than terrified. Fuck, his throat feels tight.

“Lots of talk,” Noora agrees, holding the rim of her glass against her red lips. “It’s got to be the curls.”

“Must be,” Eskild frowns as he looks Isak over. “That grumpy frown is an instant mood-killer, after all.”

“Not to mention the ugliness,” Mahdi agrees, grinning when Isak gapes over at him in faux betrayal. He doesn’t know how he manages to play it off so well – his heart is pounding and he’s scared Eskild’s sitting close enough to hear it.

“It’s your fault Emma Larzen has been blowing my phone up all night,” Vilde adds, and Magnus – still not able to look at her – snaps his fingers in her direction.

“He even had one served on a silver platter,” Magnus holds his hand out flat like he’s a waiter presenting said platter. “Ready for the picking, and he turns her down.”

A flush rises to Isak’s cheeks as he tries to groan indignantly. “I told you! I’m getting all these psycho-vibes from her, I don’t –“

“He doesn’t have to get with her, if he doesn’t want to,” Jonas points out, but it sounds half-hearted and falls flat even to Isak’s ears, which, admittedly, are mostly filled with the thrum of his pulse and his blood rushing.

Mahdi looks at Jonas like he’s stupid for even thinking that, and Isak doesn’t dare look at any of the girls, just in case he’s secretly breaking unspoken guy-rules only girls know about, and by breaking them they can tell something is up.

“Is he still sneaking out all the time?” Eskild asks, as if it hasn’t already been made abundantly clear Isak’s life is excruciatingly boring, meticulously so, because the last time Isak let his life not be boring things ended up really fucking shitty.

Isak steadfastly ignores how Jonas is looking over at him. He grabs one of the bottles on the table instead and starts scratching at the paper already peeling by itself from the damp caused by the condensation.

It’s stupid, because it feels like the only reason why is because Jonas knows, that he’s managed to figure it out and he knows, but that isn’t logical. It’s Isak’s fear playing tricks on him, but knowing that doesn’t lessen the actual fear one bit.

“Thought you were being all smooth, did you?” Eskild laughs, kicks lazily at Isak’s leg with his knee. “Thought we didn’t hear you coming and going and locking yourself in your room for a, seriously, insane amount of hours.”

“What are you, my babysitter?” Isak grouses, feels Jonas’s gaze burning a hole into the side of his head. He tries to scratch at a spot that sticks stubbornly to the bottle, but all it amounts to is a wet lump of paper falling off next to the spot Isak had been focused on.

Now he also doesn’t dare look at Eskild. He doesn’t want to see if he’s pretending to be or if he’s genuinely hurt from Isak constantly being an asshole to him about being overprotective, when Isak knows exactly why Eskild has always treated him a little gentler than he would anyone else.

“This is great!” Magnus laughs, nearly toppling off the chair when he throws himself backwards too hard. Mahdi catches his leg at the last second and hauls him back upright – Magnus doesn’t even look the slightest perturbed at possibly having avoided breaking his neck, and yet Isak is over here, physically safe but feeling like he’s one look away from a full-blown panic attack.

There’s only so much mean comments and eye-rolls can cover up, and going off of how consciously Isak can feel Jonas looking at him, Isak guesses he’s at the end of the rope.

Somehow, for some reason, his brain interprets that as if it means that’ll be the end of the traumatic, off-handed comments that can be spewed off about him for the rest of the night.

Maybe that’s why what comes out of Eskild’s mouth next leaves Isak so stunned – or maybe it’s just the revelation itself.

“I swear to God,” Eskild nearly spills his beer with how far he leans forward, “I’m pretty sure he was never alone in his room, like, ever.”

Suddenly all the noises that had built up fall away – in his head. Around him, there’s laughter and a wolf-whistle, and Isak hardly hears anything.

His heart is pounding.

He’d always known Eskild knew he had someone over, mostly because that was the only times Eskild would ever knock on his door instead of just plainly burst in, but he never stopped to think about how much does Eskild know?

Could he hear that the voice inside his room was deep, clearly male? He’d been careful never to leave Even’s jacket or shoes out in the hallway, but had he slipped up? It only would’ve taken once and everyone would’ve noticed. Or had he noticed how articles of Isak’s clothing kept disappearing, and then new yet clearly worn ones would pop up in their place?

“I didn’t –“ he licks his lips. “I wasn’t –“

All the sounds rush back. The others’ laughter is so loud, it feels like drums, like the noise is closing in around Isak and he’ll have to tear his way out of there.

Surprisingly, Noora is the one who helps him. “Like you’re one to talk, Eskild!” she laughs, plops herself down between Eskild and Isak and slings her arm around Eskild. “Or do I need to remind you of that one time where I –“

“Okay,” Eskild sasses. “You’ve made your point.”

She removes her arm from around him and holds them both up, palm flat in front of her chest instead. “I’m just saying – who has ‘The Lion King’ on their sex playlist?”

Jonas guffaws and there’s a round of sniggering, but Chris is leaning forward in her chair.

“Depends,” she points at them. “Which song was it? Personally, I’m quite partial to ‘Be prepared’ on my sex playlist.”

“Oh my god,” Eva wheezes, holding a hand over her face.

“What?” Chris knocks her arms out. “Way more appropriate than ‘I Just Can’t Wait to Be King’ or ‘Hakuna Matata’.”

“’Can You Feel the Love Tonight’,” Mahdi calls out. “How did you miss ‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight’?”

“Shit!” Chris swears and goes to knock the palm of her hand on her forehead, except she’s still holding her bottle of beer.

They’re all giggling messes when Chris has spilt beer into her hair and onto their beanbag, and the girls are trying to help her, but they’re all laughing too hard and Chris keeps moving because she’s laughing too hard.

And Isak finally feels his lungs expand so he can get in a lungful of air. His heart is still racing her he breathes it out heavily through his mouth, but it doesn’t matter.

He got to breathe.

The next morning, or more like afternoon, Isak wakes up, cramped up on the couch with Magnus’ feet shoved in his face. Mahdi is folded up on the beanbags and Jonas is simply passed out on the carpet they really need to vacuum before the day is over.

 Past

For ages, Isak’s teachers had been screaming about how big a change it would be to start high school, and now that Isak’s a first year it’s incredibly underwhelming.

Maybe it’s because there just… isn’t a whole lot different. It’s still just a school; he has classes and homework, but at least now he gets to take more science classes and gets to look at new people – or at least people other than Elias, who, if word on the street is correct, has become a bit of a dealer, so good riddance.

Or maybe it’s because something that’s supposed to be scary just doesn’t compare to all the actual scary things that have already happened in Isak’s life – including the things that aren’t supposed to be scary but are so fucking terrifying anyway.

Having to move out of his childhood home after his dad left and his mom got too ill and freaked out, meeting Even and daring to be with him, even if it’s just behind closed doors, and working so hard to keep the existence of the two of them secret from everyone. Changing tram stop really doesn’t compare.

Out of all of that, it’s probably the secret that weighs the heaviest on Isak’s shoulders and in his heart.

It’s not that he wants anyone to know. That’s not it. There are times where he looks at Eskild, and he knows it wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things if Isak were to tell him, “Hey, I have a boyfriend,” yet the thought of opening his mouth and letting the words out make him feel ill in the worst way possible, mainly disgusted with himself.

Having people know something like that about him? Absolutely not, no thanks.

It’s not about Even, either, it’s about Isak. There’s nothing wrong with being in love with Even, anyone who’s ever met him and hasn’t fallen head over heels in love with him doesn’t have their head screwed on right, according to Isak.

He’s not even sure about what it is he’s so scared of. All of it, maybe. Definitely. The thought of the looks following him around wherever he goes, hearing people talk about him, about it, behind his back, knowing that everyone knows. Being called names, even if he should be used to it at this point, what with how much he’s been called homse for ages by now, but it still makes his pulse spike. Having people determine what he’s like before they’ve even met him, just because he’s the gay guy when in reality he’s just Isak – an Isak who met his Even and got to fall in love with him. The thought of being reduced to nothing but his sexuality is enough to make any stray, however brief, thought of just saying it out loud disappear faster than sunshine in Bergen.

Isak doesn’t exactly know what Even’s reasons are for not wanting to say it either. Probably a bit of the same, he reasons, when he takes the time to observe Even as he’s thinking about it.

Maybe there’s something else, too, but something Isak can’t quite put his finger on. The way he moves, how he talks sometimes. The way he looks at Isak, like he’s simultaneously in love and scared in the same way as Isak but also differently. The way Isak has out of the corner of his eye caught him looking when Isak has to leave for a little bit to avoid Eskild knocking to check in – like he’s both bracing himself for the sight of Isak leaving and is resigned to it. Isak doesn’t know what that means, but he hates that that is how Even always looks whenever Isak walks away, like he’s expecting it.

The actual ‘keeping it a secret’ part is different for the two of them, as well. In some ways, Isak grumbles that Even has it easier, but in others Isak can admit that he’s the one with the advantage.

Keeping a secret is easy when there’s no one else but you, when you’re all alone. Even has parents; parents that he still lives with, and Isak doesn’t. Parents, who ask him where he’s going, where he’s been, and for how long he’ll be gone when he leaves next.

Even has friends he has to keep up appearances with. The only people Isak comes into regular contact with that he doesn’t mind are Eskild and Linn, and it’s rather easy to just walk out of his room and into the kitchen or into the living room and talk to them or watch a movie so that they don’t constantly question what he’s doing.

Although, Isak can and does argue, Eskild, whilst nothing close to being Isak’s parent, can certainly be as overbearing as one, coming to knock on Isak’s door to check if he’s still alive, which always serves to send a stab of fear through his heart when Even is in his room with him.

Even has his bus. Though most of the people there are his original friend-group, so Isak doesn’t think that should count fairly high. Still, there are people there that Even chooses to socialize with beyond his immediate squad, and Isak… doesn’t do that. Doesn’t dare to. The more people he keeps close, the more time he has to spend lying, and Isak is just too high-strung and exhausted at the mere idea.

Even’s got a job. That bit is still fairly new – just a few months ago when one his many media teachers mentioned an old friend of a friend in the Norwegian film industry had been looking for an assistant, and if that was something Even was interested in.

Needless to say, it definitely was, so now Even’s the assistant to an assistant to an assistant to so many links of assistants Isak can’t wrap his head around it to an actual film director. And Even gets to be on an actual set – in the very background, but on the set – and witness his dream career in the works. Isak loves seeing Even like that when he finishes a shift and heads straight for Isak’s room, still reeling off of excitement and complete giddiness and full of stories.

Seeing Even excited, though, doesn’t quite make up for the unpleasant jealousy inside him that flares up when Even suddenly doesn’t have as much time for Isak during the day. It’s an ugly possessiveness he’s struggling with when he already has to spend all of his time with Even in hiding. It’s childish and stupid and Isak actually hates himself for it, which is why he makes such a big deal out of never letting Even know.

It doesn’t really matter, in the long run, Isak can admit to himself when he forces himself to think rationally about it. Because technically, Even can stay overtime at work, he’s allowed to, but he always comes back to Isak on the dot instead. He chooses Isak, and that’s enough to reel the disgusting green monster back from tearing apart everything that Isak loves.

Even chooses him.

He goes to the Kollektiv, even as it’s a twenty minute longer journey from his workplace than if he’d just gone home. He tells Isak as the first person all about his day, and he shares his dreams of when he doesn’t have to observe the work from the back wall but be right in the middle of it all.

He never hesitates to lean down and kiss Isak when Isak tilts his head back, lips pursed just the slightest if he wants Even to move even quicker than usual, and he never waits for Isak to prompt him before he just has to lean down and kiss him, even if he’s technically in the middle of talking.

It’s easy, Isak observes, his arms folded underneath his chin as he rests on his stomach, and Even sits at his desk supposed to be finishing up some homework but just too distracted to actually be productive. It’s easy to be content and excited and happy and ecstatic all in one when they’re like this.

Isak’s lying on his bed, wearing boxers and Even’s hoodie and Even’s seemingly can’t stop taking his eyes off of him.

It’s one of Even’s favorites, the hoodie, Isak knows, because he’d spent ages painting the drawstrings multiple colors that he’ll tell everyone who sees it they’re just the colors he had when Isak knows it’s the colors of the rainbow and the pink, yellow and blue for a reason.

The tiny i-s he’d written on the backside of the left one maybe should’ve brought Isak into a state of panic, because that’s just too close, too big of a hint, but it doesn’t. And every time he can get away with it, Isak steals this particular hoodie, because it’s soft and too big and it smells like Even.

It’s an added bonus that Even loves seeing him in it, loves seeing him wearing only that, and Isak can’t resist giving him coy smiles whenever he catches Even looking.

I want to marry him keeps repeating in Isak’s head. He can’t stop smiling. I want to marry him.

OOOOO

Isak doesn’t mean for it to happen the way it does.

It’s summer. The weather is so hot it leaves all the rooms in the Kollektiv feeling stifling and clammy until its residents-plus-one can’t stand to wear much more than shorts and the thinnest t-shirt in their closets.

It seems like the sun takes forever to set these days, and Isak both mourns the relieving chill of winter and relishes in golden colors and red spots dancing across his eyelids as he basks in the sunlight, sitting propped up against the foot of his bed.

Eskild’s gone out for the night to some southern European-inspired party to celebrate the unusually hot weather, and he’s dragged Linn with him to make sure she actually gets some vitamin D when she insists on sitting cooped up in her room all day.

Isak had, naturally, high-fived her when she pointed out that most people got plenty of vitamin D in the bedroom, and then Linn, after all of Eskild’s scowling, had gone with him without complaint.

Even’s working late this evening, staying overtime at the studio for the experience more than the money. Isak had texted him half an hour ago that the coast was clear whenever he does make his way over.

Even had texted back a heart ten minutes later but no possible timeframe on when that might just be, so Isak’s resigned himself to sitting back and melting into a puddle on the floor for Even to find.

He’s not sure he likes the silence.

It’s rare to find himself home alone in the Kollektiv – Eskild usually zooms his way through as he does with everything else in his life, but Linn is pretty much a constant presence in the small home they’ve made for themselves.

And if his flatmates aren’t home, Even is usually there with him, and time with Even has never made Isak feel alone in the way keeping secrets from your friends will do to you.

He feels… isolated, maybe, is the closest word to the tightening of his chest. Whether it’s isolation from the world or from himself, Isak can’t tell.

What he can tell, however, is that there is only one person in the world who makes Isak’s chest tighten in an entirely different way, in the best way.

It’s the third project Even’s been hired on to help with. This time around it’s a drama following around five different people’s stories; the only thing connecting them is the feeling of loss settling so deeply inside their bones they can’t escape from it.

Isak had joked Even’s eyes had practically lit up at the depressing nature of the theme, and then he’d spent the better of an hour kissing Even’s pout away and telling him over and over again how proud he was of him, how proud he was that Even was working towards something that makes him happy, until Even had been pink-cheeked and lips slackened and wet, and he’d been kissing Isak just to get him to stop talking.

Even when Isak’s sitting here now, in an empty home and waiting, in a room bathed in gold and with the door open in a silent invitation for the one person who’s invited in, even when he’s feeling the most alone he doesn’t feel lonely.

The Kollektiv feels like it’s waiting with baited breath for Even to arrive, and Isak’s right there along with it. The sun is moving further and further down the sky, but it’s still shining just as brightly as ever. And even with the proof of the day slowly coming to an end, with the actual embodiment shining right in Isak’s face that Even is later and later, he still only feels the need to laugh in complete giddiness and relief that he won’t ever have to feel that crippling loneliness ever again.

Waiting for Even for mere hours feels like nothing, doesn’t feel like the slightest sacrifice compared to what Even gives him back just by being there.

Isak is in fucking love, and even now, with so much time having passed since he first met Even, he still feels like he’s either about to burst with it or implode from working so hard to keep it all bottled up.

He never wants to give this feeling up. Never, ever, ever. Can’t even imagine the day he’ll have to. He hopes it never comes.

Maybe it’s stupid. Maybe he’s being both young and stupid – he’s barely turned seventeen, Even’s his first boyfriend. Isak knows the clichés, knows he’s the exact personification of the naïve child thinking they’re all grown up now, but he doesn’t feel young or stupid. He feels like he’s in love.

He tips his head back, the duvet warm underneath his head, but his body is slumped too languidly for him to actually move or do something about it. It’s soft, at least, and Isak lets the remaining bit of the day’s sunlight warm his face.

The door slams shut. Isak hums happily when he hears Even call out his name, still not moving from his spot, but he tilts his chin a bit more pointedly when he feels Even’s presence in the doorway.

Even laughs, practically bounds over to him and leans down to kiss him.

“Halla,” Even grins between kisses, rubbing his thumb soothingly along the line of Isak’s jaw.

Isak reaches up to tug Even’s mouth back to his and ends up mumbling his own greeting into Even’s mouth. It mostly ends up as nothing more than a hum, and then Even hums back, so Isak hums again.

Even’s warm. Isak can feel it radiating off of him, like he’s the actual sun and he’s the reason why Isak’s being bathed in gold and feels so loose and happy. He smells of his cologne and a hint of sweat from a long day working in this heat.

Isak tightens the grip he has on Even, kisses him harder at the happy little noise Even makes. He never wants to let go.

They do part, though, after a little while. Even starts telling him about his day, about how far they’ve gotten and how he got to chat with the director for a couple of minutes before the guy had been whisked away to deal with an issue.

He’s sitting by Isak’s desk, had gone there when Isak had moved his stiff limbs up onto the bed. His laptop is open and his body is angled weirdly so he can look at both Isak and the screen, but mostly just ends up facing the window. He’s finished regaling Isak with stories from his day, sitting there in silence for now as he tries to find something he’d been working on and had wanted to show Isak.

The sun isn’t quite setting yet, the summer days too long for it to be that late yet, but it’s started its descent and Isak knows the light will soon fade behind the tops of the opposite buildings.

Right now, though, the sun hits Even beautifully. Had it been anyone else, Isak would’ve felt weird for staring so much. It being Even, though, he can’t tear his eyes away.

He looks good, Isak notes the way you always do when realizing something you already know about someone you see every day yet are suddenly reminded of. He looks ethereal. He looks like the best damn thing that’s ever happened to Isak.

Isak doesn’t mean for it to happen.

He’s just so fucking happy, so fucking in love, and he never ever ever wants it to end.

“Marry me.”

It slips out of Isak’s mouth before his brain can catch on. He doesn’t want to take it back, though, so he just waits with baited breath for Even to say something, anything.

Even’s gaping at him, the look of surprise evident, but Isak had hoped there would’ve been a slight twinge of happiness or excitement there too – he hadn’t ever counted on Even looking sad.

“You don’t want that.”

“I do,” Isak insists. He wants to reach out and squeeze Even’s hand, but he has a feeling if he moves closer to Even, Even will pull back and flee so he just lies there.

“You don’t,” Even whispers. There are tears threatening to leak out of the corners of his eyes and Isak’s breath hitches.

He didn’t mean for that to happen. He never meant for… for Even to –

All of it doesn’t come down crashing on Isak, crushing him in the rubble, but bits and pieces do crack apart, and suddenly Isak does feel both young and stupid.

Of course Even wouldn’t want that. It’s – it’s not necessarily too soon – they’ve known each other for ages by now, have been together for just as long pretty much, and they’re basically cohabiting already with brief intermittence of Even having to leave to keep up appearances with his parents that he definitely does not have a boyfriend and that there definitely isn’t an Isak in Even’s world, like there isn’t an Even in Isak’s.

Isak had just thought –

He doesn’t know what he thought. Or, he does know, but being in love isn’t always enough to warrant that kind of proposal.

He just proposed. Holy shit.

He should’ve taken more time, more care. Even’s a romantic, he broke into the Botanical Garden just to impress Isak and get his attention, he likes big gestures, and here Isak’s blurting it out like he’s asking what Even would like for dinner. He should’ve gotten a ring – although there are a lot of questions if even that would be a good idea given their situation.

Maybe – maybe that’s it. Maybe Even does want to get married, he just doesn’t want to get married to Isak.

Isak doesn’t doubt that Even loves him, that’s not it. There’s always a nagging thought at the back of his mind when Even tells him that he does, that it would be easier for Even if it was someone else, but Isak’s selfish and he wants Even.

It’s just that there are easier people out there for Even to love, and it would be cruel of Isak not to realize that.

Maybe Even wants someone he can do the big gestures for, that he can show off, someone he can put a ring on their finger and not have to worry about pronouns and nouns and them just being the wrong gender. That person isn’t Isak, and Isak can’t ever imagine being that person who so light-heartedly can do that.

It doesn’t make it hurt less. And it doesn’t explain why Even said Isak couldn’t be the one to want that.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Isak mutters. His cheeks are burning, and he simultaneously can’t stand to look at Even, but he also can’t stand to look away, so he ends up switching between glaring at the wall behind Even and lowering his eyes to the floor, wishing for it to swallow him up. “Just – never mind. Forget it. Don’t mind me.”

Stupid, young, and a fucking idiot.

“That’s not –“ Even’s voice breaks, his words sound thick and like it’s a struggle to speak past a lump in his throat. “That’s not what – that’s – Isak.”

“Forget it,” Isak repeats. He almost wishes he was wearing a sweater, despite how bad the heat already is around him, just so he could curl up and hide away. God, he never should’ve opened his stupid, stupid mouth. “It was – it was dumb. You wouldn’t – let’s just –“

“Isak,” Even breathes out, sounding just as lost and heartbroken and Isak doesn’t understand.

It is fine if Even doesn’t want that, no matter the why, but Isak doesn’t understand why it makes Even react like that.

“That’s not –“ Even tries again, but he doesn’t get further than he did last time either. “You don’t want that. It’s not me – it’s. Isak, you don’t want that.”

The panic is still threatening to overwhelm him, to swallow him up whole until there’s nothing else left, the flight or fight instinct just too present a reaction to the hurt that’s also threatening to overtake him.

But that – that just doesn’t make sense. Isak wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want that.

Obviously, now he’s having second thoughts, but not because he doesn’t want to be with Even forever and ever, as it seems like Even is insinuating, that is tearing him apart to insinuate.

“Why –“ Isak shakes his head as if it would clear his mind of all unwanted thoughts and make him able to think rationally once again. It doesn’t work. “Why do you think that?”

“Because –“ Even’s hands are shaking. “Because I never should’ve gone over to talk to you.”

Isak’s stomach drops. Along with his heart. And his entire body. He feels like he’s weightless, floating around like nothing at the same time as he feels like he weighs a metric ton. What – what?

“You deserve so much better,” Even’s struggling to get the words out, sounds like his throat is too thick. There are tears starting to gather in his eyes. “Always, always. You – you deserve everything, and I –“

He cuts himself off. Isak doesn’t feel like he’s present in his own body, feels like he’s forgotten how to open his mouth and use his words to shout you, you are the one who deserves everything.

“What are you talk-“ Isak manages to get out, though it sounds wrong and not like it’s him who’s speaking. Even cuts him off before he can finish.

“I’m bipolar.”

He says it like it’s the answer to everything, everything bad, that is. It’s –

Isak honestly doesn’t know what to think. He always knows what to think, always has a thousand different thoughts running through his head, either knowing everything about anything or wanting to find out everything about anything. Now, there’s nothing except Isak’s growing panic as bipolar repeats in his head.

“They’d just finalized the diagnosis, and I –“

Even licks his lips, tries to buy himself time, but time for what Isak doesn’t know. Even looks like he’s just finalized his own death sentence, and that everything that comes out of his mouth past this point isn’t an appeal but his final words, his last chance of redemption before a new life.

“I just had to get out of there. I just left – the hospital and my parents. I just had to get out of there. Scared the shit out of everyone,” he laughs a bit self-deprecatingly. It sounds wrong when someone is as close to crying as Even is right now, like it’s less of a laugh and more or a sob. “I just wanted to go for a walk.”

Isak’s bottom lip is quivering. He tries to bite down on it to make it stop, but that just makes it seem like the entirety of his face is shaking.

“And I saw –“ Even cuts himself off, sniffs and shakes his head at himself. “I should’ve left you alone, I know that, because you – but you were just –“

He laughs. It’s not an amused laugh, sounds more self-deprecating and sad and desperate than anything else.

“You were lying in the dirt in the middle of the night, cursing up a storm about how the pictures you were taking of flowers in the middle of the night were turning out shit, and –“

Even’s eyes are wet, but he looks impossibly softly at Isak when he finally meets his gaze. Isak thinks he might be crying too, or at least is close to it.

“You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen,” Even confesses, so quietly Isak nearly can’t hear it, but he does. He hears it. “And I should’ve just left you alone, but I’m selfish. It was like – like you were magical, like I was in a movie and you were what everything had been leading to.”

Isak wants to reach out to him, wants to run his fingers over his skin, let his hands curl around his cheeks, but he knows Even will draw back if he does that.

He also isn’t certain he could actually manage to do it as it seems like his entire body has stopped working, including his heart, and his lungs, and his mind, because there’s only one thing continuously whispered, bipolar, bipolar, bipolar.

Isak doesn’t know a lot – anything – about bipolar disorder. Knows the obvious or just the stereotype, maybe. He figures he could probably see hints, looking back, should’ve maybe noticed the hints way back then. Thinks that Even ranting about other people invalidating his feelings, about the tight smiles when Isak would tease how multiple sleepless nights would naturally end with him conking out for days on end, should’ve been enough to tell Isak that something, that not everything was what he’d been led to believe, that there was more to the story.

Maybe Isak should be scared. He’d spent ages trying to help his mother, been there when she wasn’t well and things were so shit he just wanted to scream.

But this isn’t his mother. It’s Even and Isak’s so unbelievably in love with him.

“I’m glad you came up to me,” Isak blurts out before he’s really thought it through. He doesn’t regret it, though. He squares up instead, stares directly into Even’s eyes and keeps his back straight.

Even’s lips are pressed tightly together, and he has that pinched look to him that tells Isak he’s about to argue with him, probably ask if he hasn’t heard a thing he’s told him, but Isak doesn’t let him.

“I don’t tell you how to feel,” Isak reminds him, has to swallow when he sees the stricken look on Even’s face. “And you don’t tell me how to feel. That’s how we work.”

He lets the ‘right?’ hang unspoken in the air, but Even still nods in agreement as if he’d said it out loud.

“And I’m telling you,” Isak has to swallow – for how steady his voice sounds, he feels incredibly shaky, “that if you thought meeting me was something magical, then me meeting you was a miracle.”

Even’s shaking his head again, looking ready to argue, but Isak won’t let him. Not with this, never with this.

“I was barely alive, back then,” Isak tells him. Even knows some of this, has probably gathered enough from what Isak hasn’t told him, all the blank spaces left unsaid and untold but with enough given to hint why they’re like that. “I was just waiting for each day to pass until one day I’d finally get to live.”

Even knows what he’s leading up to, Isak can tell that he knows. That he’s already heard the ‘you were what made me finally feel like I was living and not just surviving.’

“You saved me,” he insists. “And that’s how we work. What happens after you save me?”

Even shakes his head. His eyes are teary, and his lips are pressed together tightly. “Isak –“

“What happens?”

Isak feels the sigh Even emits all the way inside his bones, feels how it makes him heavy. Such a startling contrast to how light Even’s reply makes him feel.

Even’s voice is quiet, so, so quiet, Isak nearly doesn’t hear him. “You save me back,” is said softly, kindly, lovingly, but also tinged with a sadness that has Isak forget everything but utter hopelessness.

He refuses, though. Not when Even knows what he’s saying, what he’s trying to tell him.

“You would’ve felt like that anyway,” Even argues, is still minutely shaking his head. He’s frowning, but Isak thinks it might be to stop himself from crying. “Eventually. You still would’ve gotten to feel that.”

“I would,” Isak agrees, because theoretically, he probably would’ve. “Eskild gave me a lot. Maybe I would’ve started to feel it when I started at university. Maybe I’d only start feeling it once I got a degree and started working. Maybe I’d meet someone and fall in love and that’s when it would start.”

It’s such a foreign thought, that he could ever fall in love with someone who isn’t Even. Even also looks a bit like the thought of it is breaking his heart, even if it’s one of the points he’s trying to make; that Isak would be alright without ever having had Even in his life.

“But nothing would ever feel like how I feel, right now, and have felt all this time, with you.”

Even still doesn’t really look like he believes him, but he also looks a bit like he knows, because that’s how he feels too, so it feels a bit impossible to argue against it, like it’s a moot point.

“I don’t know a lot about it,” Isak admits, doesn’t clarify what it is, there’s no need. “And you know me – I’ll go on a research bender, and I’m going to drive you insane with it, so you’re going to have to tell me when to stop.”

Even doesn’t look pleased at the prospect of having Isak interrogate him, but he does nod curtly.

Isak digs at the skin around his nails, picking at hangnail until he’s nearly bleeding. It doesn’t make it easier to gather his thoughts, but Isak doubts anything would be helpful.

It feels a bit like someone’s swept the floor out from underneath him. He feels dizzy from it, feels like he’s lost the center of his gravity, which is stupid, because it’s still just Even. Nothing has changed, nothing important, but still –

Isak knows there are a lot of things neither of them talk about. Their entire relationship is founded on lies and secrets that’s always been more of a security blanket than whatever this feeling swirling uncomfortably around in Isak’s stomach is.

It’s not like he has told Even everything there is to possibly know about him, but he knows the important parts, and Isak – Isak just hadn’t realized they were apparently also keeping secrets from each other.

He doesn’t blame Even, that’s not it. On a scale of secrets this one is huge, and it’s not like Even isn’t allowed to keep secret, it’s more that.

That Isak thought Even trusted him.

Finding out he doesn’t, doesn’t feel very nice. It feels absolutely horrible, in fact.

“What are you thinking about?”

Isak’s never heard Even sound like that; small and insecure and maybe even a little afraid. Isak scares Even, and Isak also doesn’t know what to do with that, what to do with anything.

“I –“ he tries to swallow through the lump in his throat. It nearly gets caught instead and breathing feels even harder to do afterwards. “I just – why didn’t you tell me?”

Even looks small, sitting there on the desk chair. He feels miles away from Isak and that doesn’t feel good. He’s never seen Even look small, he’s always been larger than life, even when he was quiet and sleeping for an entire day – crashing, Isak reminds himself – Isak’s heart had always felt so full and overwhelmed whenever he looked at him.

“I still didn’t know what to think about it at first, when I met you.” Even when talking, Even is quiet. It’s awful. “And then, later, I kept telling myself you had to know, that it was only fair, but I – I didn’t want to lose you. And then you told me about your mom, and how that was why your parents were always fighting and that’s why you left, and I couldn’t –“ his voice cracks when he breaks off.

Isak’s jaw is clenched. Blood trickles out from his hangnail when he accidentally digs too hard.

“It’s not the same.”

Even doesn’t look like he believes him, but Isak doesn’t know how to explain it. It’s the only thing he keeps thinking – that it’s not the same, because it isn’t.

“It’s not,” he repeats.

“How?” Even looks resigned, and Isak would’ve thought he would sound tired, but for the first time ever that Isak’s heard, Even sounds bitter. “How isn’t it the same?”

“Because I don’t blame you for being ill, how about that?” Isak snaps. He can feel years upon years of anger and resentment and shame welling up to the surface, and it’s making something ugly inside him want to crawl out, want to lash out at everyone around him, when that really isn’t something Isak wants to do. “I’m not ashamed of you being bipolar. It’s not some ‘character flaw’ that I’ll do my damndest to avoid because it would be inconvenient for me.  I wouldn’t make the people closest to you lie about it just to avoid the social consequences of associating myself with you.”

Maybe it’s not entirely fair. Maybe there’d been lots of other shit going on between his mom and dad that Isak had never bothered looking into, because everything else was already too much and he wouldn’t be able to handle one more thing piled on top of the rest.

He’s not ashamed of Even. He’ll never be ashamed of Even. It sounds like a lie, considering the great lengths they go to, to keep each other a secret, to keep them a secret from the rest of the world, but that’s not Isak being ashamed of Even – no more than it is Even being ashamed of Isak.

“Maybe it will be,” Even points out stubbornly. His cheeks are flushed red and he’s staring straight into Isak’s eyes, but it’s like there’s something between them, something clouding Even’s eyes and twisting his mind until he can build his walls up again and protect himself from Isak. “Next month, next year – you don’t know you won’t resent me for sticking around.”

And Isak –

He wants to scream, wants to cry, both wants to prove he’ll never be like his father and abandon them, but at the same time wants to just bail, and that just makes it worse. He feels the fury inside him and wants to let it out, to show the world just how much can go wrong in a relationship and how much things going wrong can fuck someone up.

But Isak also knows this isn’t Even talking. Or – it is, but it also isn’t, because this is Even protecting himself from when shit will hit the fan, so that he isn’t caught off-guard, so he won’t end up in that doctor’s room again with pitying and worried looks constantly thrown his way until he’ll feel like he’s suffocating.

“It’ll happen,” Even promises, so sure and with certainty in his voice, that Isak wants to cover his ears and scream to block out all the noise. “I’ll hurt you, I know I will.”

In this moment Isak does feel incredibly young and a little out of his depth, but he doesn’t feel any less in love. Of all the uncertainties floating around his head, that isn’t one of them.

“You don’t know that.”

Even huffs, not believing him, and Isak’s tired. He’s tired and he’s going out of his mind and he still wants to never let go of Even, so he gets off the floor and strides over until he’s standing right in front of Even.

The room feels so much darker now compared to when Even had first gotten here, greeting Isak with a kiss and stories. God, that feels like hours, days, ago, not twenty minutes.

Even looks smaller like this, him sitting and Isak standing, but also from his shoulders hunching and body curling in on itself as he tries to convince Isak that he’s better off without him.

“No, you don’t know shit about that. Maybe I’ll be the one to hurt you – did you ever think about that, huh? Maybe neither of us will hurt each other. At least not so badly we can’t fix it.”

Even opens his mouth probably to protest, but Isak’s done. Done with all the hypothetical scenarios and what ifs of all the ways they can go wrong.

He wants to focus on the ways they can go right.

By slowing down time. He curls his hands around Even’s jaw and tilts his head back so he can’t avoid looking him the eyes. They’re impossibly blue and shiny from the wetness threatening to spill over the edge. Even when he’s upset like this and clearly wants to hide from the world, from Isak, Even accommodates him, lets him maneuver him into facing him.

“Why don’t we, just, take it completely chill,” Isak whispers, thumb rubbing soft circles along the line of Even’s cheekbone, “and we stop worrying about all that. Life is now, and so all that matters is, like, the next minute.”

“The next minute?”

God, Even is usually the one to say cliché things about how Isak is his baby, is his boy, and in this moment can’t help but be reminded how reciprocal that feeling is. Isak’s gorgeous, beautiful boy with a heart of gold and future bright and full of dreams.

Isak nods. “The next minute. That way we don’t have to worry about all the ways things can go wrong.”

Even sniffs. “Because even we can’t manage to fuck up irreparably within a minute?” he jokes, but Isak hears everything past the lighthearted tone, hears the worries and the anxiety and the guilt and shame and the hope.

So Isak smiles softly, continues rubbing his thumb and doesn’t comment on it when a catches a trail of wetness. Then he lets Even hide his face in his t-shirt, his forehead digging into his sternum.

Isak cards his fingers through Even’s hair, bends down far enough that he can press tiny kisses to the back of Even’s head, to the top of his neck.

“Sorry,” Even sniffles, not really crying but also not-not really crying. He’s still hiding away, so Isak just hums soothingly, only stopping when Even starts repeating himself. “Sorry, I – I should’ve told you, I know. I’m so sorry, that was – that was so fucked up of me to do. I should’ve come clean the second we started getting serious, I should’ve let you know –“

“Okay,” Isak just says, because he doesn’t want to tell Even he understands why he didn’t say anything when he’s only certain he partly knows why Even didn’t tell him specifically, and he’s also not going to lie and say he doesn’t feel fucking confused and slightly hurt at Even not telling him.

In hindsight it does explain a lot of things; the sleepless nights, the moments Even went from geared one day to little more than lifeless the next time he’d see him, the surge of text-messages to the bare minimum. Jumping from one project to another without finishing any or become hyper-fixated on one and working on nothing but.

Isak doesn’t realize why he hadn’t paid attention to it before – or, maybe he had, just a bit, felt that at times Even’s behavior was slightly off, but he never really went as far to think that – It never seemed natural to assume that.

“Breathe,” Isak reminds Even softly, the fingers on one of his hands moving down to trace the line of Even’s throat, running along his pulse. Even with the light touch Isak can feel it’s beating too fast. “Baby, you need to breathe.”

Even’s breath rattles when he lets it out. It feels warm and damp through the light material of Isak’s t-shirt, makes his already sticky skin feel clammy with it, but he just presses another kiss to Even’s hair.

“Is that what we’re doing for the next minute?” Even asks, speaking slowly to not make it as evident his body is still thrumming on the remains of adrenaline and panic, making him short of breath. He doesn’t sound mean about it, though.

“Yes.”

“And the minute after that?”

Technically, that’s against the rules, but Isak isn’t up for reminding Even of that.

“The minute after that,” he tells him instead, “we’re going to kiss.”

“That’s chill.”

Isak exhales amusedly at the irony.

“That’s chill.”

OOOOO

“Do you think,” Even wets his lips. Isak can’t tell if it’s a nervous tick or to just draw out time. “Do you think there’s a universe where I’m not like this? Where I’m easier to deal with?”

Isak’s throat tightens. He wants to cry.

It’s in the middle of the night, but Even is still lying awake next to him in bed. Eskild and Linn have long since gone to bed, Isak and Even did too, and they really should’ve fallen asleep by now, but they haven’t.

“It’s not like I’m easy to deal with either,” Isak reminds him.

Even scoffs, moves as if to turn to his side, turn his back to Isak, and Isak can’t have that. His hands fly out underneath his own body so quickly he slaps Even’s shoulder in his hurry to grab onto his t-shirt.

“I’m not,” he insists. Even’s still lying on his back and he’s not actively struggling against Isak’s hold that he doesn’t yet dare loosen. “There are probably hundreds of universes out there where – where you won’t have to hide behind closed doors to be with me, have you thought about that? Where I’m – where I’m a girl, or you are, and there’s no reason for all of this bullshit. Or maybe there’s one where no one would bat an eye at the both of us being boys, where we wouldn’t have even stumbled over the thought.”

Isak moves one of his hands up from Even’s shirt to lightly stroke against the hair curling at the nape of Even’s neck. It’s more awkward than anything, but that’s because it’s the arm he’s lying on and not because Even is resolutely staring into the ceiling, refusing to look at Isak.

“Maybe there’s one where I don’t give you a reason to leave.”

Isak shrugs, tries to calm down his absolutely pounding heart. “You haven’t given me a reason to in this one.”

Even scoffs again, but he doesn’t try to move away from Isak. Small wins.

Isak doesn’t know what happened to make Even so certain people, Isak, will leave him because of this. He figures maybe it had something to do with those boys that he’s occasionally seen him with by accident, when they’re reminded of just how small Oslo really is and that despite meticulous planning, they can’t always avoid running into each other in public.

Even talks about them, sometimes, and Isak’s always been desperate for every single bit of information he can get of Even’s life – the part of it that Isak has never had access to, anyway – so he feels like he already knows the entire group, but… the way that Even talked about them always made him curious. It made it seem like they were his long-lost friends, not people he saw every single day up until they graduated together back in June.

Even doesn’t have to say what he’s thinking, what he’s obviously close to saying, only holding himself back to avoid an argument, to avoid revealing his soul to such a terrifying, vulnerable degree, even if it’s to Isak. Or maybe because it’s to Isak.

Isak knows what Even wants to say. He wants to say that he’s already given him a reason, and if not then they just have to wait for a major episode, or maybe just a small one, and then Isak can see there’s a reason to break this off.

But this isn’t something Isak wants to break off, not for any reason. Reminding Even of that, though, wouldn’t mean anything to Even who won’t let himself process it, won’t let himself belief that it’s true, that there’s still hope for them, that they can still be ‘them’, so Isak changes tactic.

“Maybe there is one where I leave. Hell, maybe there are multiple universes where I leave you.”

Even’s not breathing next to him. Isak can make out his eyes in the darkness, but he can’t tell if they’re shiny from unshed tears or completely dry as Even remains stoic. He doesn’t seem it, though. He seems to be feeling the exact same emotions as Isak; frayed and like someone is unpeeling him bit by bit until he’s exposed for the world to see with nothing holding him together.

“But not in this one.”

Even draws in a deep breath. It sounds shaky.

“In this universe, I stay with you. In this universe, I choose you.”

“This feels like therapy,” Even grouches, but he’s still looking at Isak with that look that always serves to make butterflies swirl around inside of him, even if it’s a little withdrawn and Isak can still tell that this isn’t, that they aren’t okay yet. “I hate therapy.”

Isak can’t help but grin shyly. “Pretty sure it’s not therapy until you start paying me.”

It startles a bark of a laugh out of Even that comes out a little too wet. “You expecting me to pay you, now?”

And it’s fun, because acting like this with Even is always fun, but this, this right now, is Even talking around the subject.

“’Fraid I only accept boyfriend payments,” he says carefully, watches with heavy heart as Even stops smiling and starts looking ready to argue again.

Isak hates having to make him stop smiling, but it’s necessary. They need to do this, can’t just let it hang in the air. They do this with everyone else; talk in half-truths and leave things unsaid and just entirely in secret, but not with each other. Even knows everything about Isak, and Isak had thought he knew everything about Even, too. He’s not angry to find out he doesn’t – confused, a little, maybe a lot, hurt, but he’s not angry.

He probably would’ve been, had he found out any other way, if Even had never confessed to it, if he’d just left it unsaid until one day Isak would find out when either everything was going to shit, or it was just too late entirely.

Even must come to something close to the same conclusion, because the fight leaves his body, and when he starts talking, he answers Isak truthfully.

“I have…” he hesitates before continuing, “almost a sort of love-hate relationship with it. To it?”

“How come?”

Even tries to gather his thoughts, figure out what to say, how to explain. “I hate how it makes me feel, how out of control everything can seem. I like being the one who can decide things and it – it takes that away from me.”

Isak blinks. “And the – the other part? The love part?”

Even wets his lips nervously. “I hate feeling sick,” he says. “I hate how it takes away any feeling of control. I hate how it makes other people look at me like I’m weak, like I’m breakable.”

Isak waits. Allows for Even to let it all out.

Even’s breathing heavily, not quite panting for air, but it’s irregular and mostly superficial. Isak doubts he’s actually getting any air in, but at least he’s not panicking.

“But, if I hadn’t had that appointment, if I wasn’t ill,” Even adds, “I wouldn’t have left my parents’ side that night.”

Isak tilts his head to the side, a slight, confused frown pulling down the right corner of his mouth.

“I wouldn’t have gone to Birkelunden, and I wouldn’t have met the cutest boy I’d ever seen, lying on his stomach in the dirt, trying to get a picture of a flower.”

Isak flushes, as he always does when Even talks about him like this, squirms with a bit. It’s almost like he can feel Even’s heart beating in tandem with his own; a little too quick and a little too hard.

It’s impossible not to feel it, and feeling it so strongly makes it impossible not to say something.

“I still want to marry you,” Isak whispers into the darkness.

It’s the first time Even’s stayed over for the night since he told Isak. Isak’s spent the past hour just about debating whether or not he should say something before he just went ahead and did it anyway.

Maybe he shouldn’t have, shouldn’t push these things. A lot of the websites spoke about needing a stable environment and avoiding stress factors, and Isak has this nagging thought in his head that this entire thing they have going, this – this sneaking around and keeping secrets from everyone in their life, having an entire secret relationship, everything that Isak is to Even, is quite a big stress factor.

But he doesn’t want to leave this hanging in the air, not like he’s done with so many other things. This should never be something he grows to regret not saying, and it shouldn’t be something Even should worry about was legit or not.

Even is tense next to him. It sounds like he’s holding his breath, and Isak can’t tell if it’s from anxiety or from waiting for Isak to continue or if he gearing up to argue.

The latter, Isak fears, because Even still has that look in his eyes, the one that says he still fully believes everything he said about how he was too selfish and that Isak deserves more, when Even to Isak already is everything.

“I know you’re probably thinking – hell, you’re thinking too much to keep up with, but you’re definitely thinking I’m only saying it because I said it before and now I don’t want to admit to it being a pity thing, but that’s –“

Isak cuts himself off, shakes his head, not harshly enough the bed shakes, but he can hear how his hair shifts against the pillowcase, causing crinkling noises that fill the sudden silence.

“I don’t know how to convince you it’s not,” Isak admits instead. “I don’t know how to make you believe I’m so in love with you that I never want you far away from me, that I can’t imagine having to live a life without you. I can’t think of anything other than telling you, again and again, as many times as it takes, but I also don’t know if that will ever be enough.”

Even swallows loudly next to him. He doesn’t turn around and he doesn’t say anything, and Isak doesn’t know what that means. His heart is pounding in his chest.

“If you really don’t want to marry me, then I’ll never mention it again,” he promises. “But if the only reason you have for not wanting to marry me is because you think ‘I deserve better’, then I’m going to ask you again. I’m going to ask you every single time I can’t believe I could possibly love you any more than I do in that moment.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, wants for Even to say something, to reply, to just let him know – something, anything, that Even is ready and willing to give him.

It makes it easy to hear how Even tries to control his breathing, tries to keep it slow and heavy, make every inhale deep, all the way down into his stomach. He hears it every time Even opens his mouth only to close it again. Until he finally manages to get some words out.

Isak expects – maybe he doesn’t quite know what he expects. A rejection, maybe, denial about everything Isak just said.

No matter what, he doesn’t expect, “Move in with me,” to be what comes out of Even’s mouth.

Isak blinks. Doesn’t really matter in the darkness, but he still does it. Blinks again, even. “Huh?”

The sheets next to him crinkle as Even shuffles around to face him. Isak’s gaping in his direction, he knows, but it’s too dark to see anything besides his silhouette.

“Move in with me,” Even repeats, voice deep and slow.

It’s almost like how he usually sounds when he’s close to falling asleep or just waking up, but he’s neither right now. His voice is steady, he sounds sure in himself, while Isak feels like he’s stuck on a rollercoaster.

“I’m serious,” Even says when Isak just keeps on staring. “Move in with me.”

Like Isak was questioning how serious he was. He’s been working really hard to not let those parts of the websites influence him, refuses to see Even as a child in need of a firm hand to keep him safe, but this kind of question feels so horribly impulsive the thought is the for a shameful second before Isak manages to kick it out again.

“A place just for the two of us,” Even starts painting the picture as beautifully as everything else he does. “We won’t have to sneak around, won’t have to wake up at crazy times just to avoid getting caught. You could finally wear my clothes without worrying, I could get to cook you breakfast.”

Isak’s heart is starting to pick up its pace again, for an entirely different reason now.

“Think about it,” Even prompts. “You said that Noora’s coming back from Spain soon, that’ll be one more person to sneak around, plus there aren’t enough rooms. You’d still have your safety net – you’d still have Eskild to fall back on. We could only put my name on the lease so you wouldn’t have any obligations if things fall through.” If they fall through, Isak knows that means.

“We’ll have to anyway, you’re the only one out of the two of us who’s turned eighteen,” is what comes out of Isak’s mouth instead. Holy shit, he keeps thinking, feeling, maybe, too. Holy shit.

Even lets out a startled laugh that’s too loud for the hour, but Isak’s feeling too shaky in the best of ways to shush him. Even clamps a hand over his mouth himself anyway, tries to smother his giggles behind fingers and the duvet. He sounds every bit as much of the holy shit being continuously repeated in Isak’s head.

“Are we really doing this?”

Isak feels like his feet have been swept off the ground, feels like he’s floating, flying around. It doesn’t feel scary, though. Not when he knows Even’s there, ready to catch him.

“I’m serious about you,” Even whispers once he’s gotten his laughing fit under control again. “Always. And always want to be. And I want to marry you, want to get married to you.”

Isak’s heart tha-thumps loudly in his ears as he waits for the ‘but’.

“I just want you to know what you’re getting into. I never want you to regret anything.” This, me, us.

It’s every bit the but Isak was expecting, fearing, but it’s not the worst but he’s imagined hearing.

“The same goes for you, you know,” Isak reminds him. He grabs Even’s hand, laces their fingers together and squeezes. It somehow feels more intimate than a kiss would’ve. “I never want you to regret choosing me either.”

It’s in the middle of the night on a hot summer’s night, and Even’s eyes are sparkling even in the dark and his thumb is rubbing along Isak’s hand in small circles, and Isak’s in love with him and discussing their future together. He hopes fervently that in every single universe out there, there’s an Isak and Even who find each other, and that there isn’t a single universe where there’s an Isak stupid enough to leave their Even behind.

“I won’t,” Even promises.

‘Forever’ suddenly seems impossibly short when Isak will get to spend it with Even.

Next part

[briefololtragedy]

Hashirama’s Plan

Chapter 4 of Fire Station 9

Pairing: Tobirama x Sakura

Rating G 

Summary: Sakura tells Tobirama of her plan to raise enough money to beat KPD.

Also posted on AO3 (for chapters 1-3)

The men were bustling about the station getting ready for the day. Tobirama sat in his office drinking his cup of coffee. He could tell it was going to be a long day. The florist was coming over to discuss the ball and ideas for events. Some of the men were giddy with excitement to have a woman in the station. 

Tobirama remembers when he talked to some of the guys about her idea. All of them jumped at the opportunity to help with the decorations and set up. His younger brother Itami was also on board to help with creating the pillars. Apparently Sakura and Itami knew each other from high school. Tobirma’s eye started to twitch.

With one last swig of his coffee he left his office. He needed more coffee, which meant venturing to the kitchen to get it. As he walked through the hallways he could hear the voices get louder in the dining area. Brief snippets of the conversation flooded through his ears. Konohamaru was giddy with excitement. The new recruit was Asuma’s nephew, but didn’t seem to take after the older man’s laid back nature. 

“Hey boss when is Sakura going to get here? I haven’t seen her ages.” Tobirama was debating spiking the boys coffee with cough syrup. Hmm while he was at it he should also spike his brother’s coffee as well. 

“Will you calm down. How will you ever be able to keep calm in a fire or emergency situation if you are as excitable as a puppy?” Konohamaru's face fell flat. 

“Sorry it's just Sakura is friends with Naruto and I grew up with them. I haven’t seen her since she started her own business.  Ami always looked up to her. Sakura was her inspiration for going to nursing school.” Tobirama lifted an eyebrow at that. 

“How did a florist inspire someone to go into nursing school?” Before Konohamaru could respond they heard a soft voice break through all the noise. 

“Oh there you are. I wasn’t sure where you wanted to meet so I hope you don’t mind that I just let myself in.” Konohamaru ran to Sakura to pick her up. 

“Sakura-chan! I haven’t seen you in ages.” Sakura laughed at Konohamaru and gave him a hug back. Tobirama was surrounded by children. Where the hell was the coffee.

“Konohamaru how are you? Is Ami doing ok? Have you asked her out yet.” Konohamaru started to stammer. 

“Sakura, she is just a friend.” He could hear the pout on Konohamaru’s face even with his back turned. 

“Of course. It’s really Hanabi you like.” Before he had to tell them to break up their bonding moment, Sakura stopped it. 

“We should catch up some time. Come by the flower or coffee shop when you are free. I have things to discuss with your Chief.” As Tobirama took a sip from the elixir of life he noticed how all the guys were staring at her. He then took in her appearance, he understood why. She was wearing a pair of exercise pants that were fifty percent  mesh and a sleeveless racerback exercise top. He could see the definitions of her arm and back muscles. Her hair was braided down her back. She didn’t look like she was trying to attract attention, but the auror around her pulled people in. Yeah they would have no problem finding help. 

“Tobirama-san is there somewhere you would like to go over the plans some more. I have come up with some ideas I would like to run by you.” With a heavy sigh he started to lead her to his office. However, he was interrupted by one of the crew members offering her a cup of coffee. It was Deidera. He had been with them for a little over a year, he was the arsonist expert. He didn’t know why irritation overcame him. He narrowed it down to having to wait longer to go over the plans. Tobirama also thought of how Deidara should be investigating one of the recent factory fires. 

Tobirama was intrigued when he saw her take her coffee black. He would have expected a ton of sugar and cream. Instead she took a small sip and then nodded her head.  When he saw her smile the irritation faded some. 

“Do you want to join me to discuss this or not.” Yep he was still irritated. The crew started to scatter. Sakura just rolled her eyes at him. 

“Jeez someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” The men all froze when she spoke waiting for him to go off on her. Instead she walked ahead of him and he followed. 

Sakura looked around his office, it was psycho killer level organized. There were no papers on his desk. He had desk organizers with neatly stacked papers, on the counter behind him. A couple of awards and certificates decorated his walls. His office was like him, no nonsense. 

“Alright Sakura-san lets get this over with.” Sakura watched him sit elegantly in his chair, while she just plopped in the guest chair. He just looked at her and didn’t bother to continue the conversation. Sakura knew he wanted her to start talking. 

“First I wanted to see if you have asked the men if they would help with decorations and set up?” Sakura was hoping he was at least able to carry enough conversational skills to ask a simple question with people he worked with everyday. 

“They all were in agreement to lending a hand.” 

“That’s great! It will help us save a lot of money. On the topic of money I have been thinking of different events that can take place during the ball. One of them is to have an auction.” Sakura paused waiting for him to say something. He tilted his head and was silent for a few seconds. 

“An auction. Doesn’t that mean we have to get products for the attendees to bid on?” Yep here comes the pessimistic attitude. 

“Well I was thinking about that. Did your school ever have student auctions senior year?” Sakura was praying that he would say yes. 

“No.” Tobirama wanted her to get to the point. 

“Oh. Ok. So in high school the student council would set up an event every year. Students from the senior class would be put up for auction. The other grades would then bid on them. The seniors would create a list of what they would do for the day for the person who placed the highest bid on them. It didn’t cost any money for the auction itself and always brought in a good amount of money for Grad Week activities. So I was thinking that we could do something similar with the firefighters.” Sakura looked at him hopefully. The man had a great poker face. 

“You want to auction off the firefighters to raise money?” His voice was tight when he spoke. Tobirama didn’t like how this sounded. But he liked the idea of no money going into the event. 

“Yes. Each firefighter would create a bio to have posted before the event. The attendants can access it on your website. I was also thinking of having two of my friends help with creating photos for the website as well.” Sakura wanted to scream at him to just accept the idea. 

This idea left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he wouldn’t have to participate in it. 

“And what would my crew be doing for those who win?” Sakura was anticipating this question. She knew Tobirama’s distaste for the firefighter calendars that some of the other stations would create, so knew this would not be his cup of tea. 

“They would have a day with the firefighter. It will be in the rules that everything is to remain respectful for all parties involved.” Tobirama folded his arms and leaned back. 

“Will your friends charge for the photos?” Sakura found hope bubbling up on the inside. 

“No they will be doing it as a favor.” Sakura just had to treat Sai and Ino to a dinner of their choice. 

“Fine.” Sakura found herself jumping up in excitement. She looked over to Tobirama who looked like he was going to explode. 

“Sorry. I got a little excited.” Sakura sat back down in her chair. She pulled out some files from her bag and tried to appear like the professional business woman she was. 

“We could also auction off some days for people to spend time in the firestation.” Tobirama didn’t know where the idea came from or what possessed him to say it out loud. 

“That sounds wonderful!” Sakura clasped her hands in front of her in excitement. Maybe this would be so bad. They settled into a more detailed conversation about the logistics of the ball. It seemed like only moments had passed, but when he glanced at his watch they had been in his office for over 2 hours. 

As she went to open her mouth Tobirama’s office door was flung open, causing her to jump. She didn’t realize Tobirama jumped slightly as well. 

“Chief, Deidara is back from the scene of the factory fire.” Jin then walked away. 

Tobirama cleared his throat and got up to move. 

“I have to speak to one of my guys. Do you mind waiting out in the main hall?” 

“Of course not.” With that Sakura gathered her things and took off. Deidara was standing outside the door and Tobirama saw him glance at his Sakura’s backside as she left. 

“Deidara, come in.” Tobirama knew he was in for a long meeting. He could not bang his head against his desk. 

_______________

Sakura found herself back in the dining hall. There were some old upholstered arm chairs in the corner by the windows. The beat up old chairs looked far more comfortable than the wooden dining chairs. Sakura quickly settled into the worn out chairs and grabbed her phone. She sent a quick text to Ino about the upcoming job. She then silenced her phone and picked up her tablet. Sakura wasn't in the mood for Ino at the moment. 

A few minutes went by as Sakura worked. She was so engrossed that she didn’t realize someone sat in the chair next to her until they spoke. 

“Hi I’m Kotetsu. You must be Sakura, the person helping with the ball this year.” Sakura looked up to see a man around her age sitting down next to her. He had brown eyes and dark black-blue hair. His hair was slightly wild sticking out at odd angles. He overall was handsome, if not on the plain side. 

“Yes, I’m Sakura. Nice to meet you.” Sakura extended her hand to shake his. It was then she noticed the boyish smile that crossed his face. 

“So are you going to help us beat the KPD this year? “ 

“That’s the plan. I heard that you guys are willing to help as well, which will help.” 

“Yeah lots of the guys are looking forward to helping.” Kotetsu was now leaning over, arms on his legs and he talked to her. 

“Hey Kotetsu, we have to clean the engine. Get your ass over here.” A man with brown hair that covered one of his eyes called out, interrupting the conversation. 

“Guess duty calls.  I look forward to seeing you around more.” With a wink he ran off. Sakura found herself sighing. She wasn’t sure if she could handle flirting and starting over. She was supposed to be done with this. Stupid men. 

Sakura busied herself with her tablet. Hashirama had sent her a list of the crew members of station 9. She hoped all of them would be in agreement with the plan. 

_____________________

Deidara finally finished giving Tobirama the report. Sadly it seemed they would have to work with the KPD on the case, which meant he would have to work with either Izuna or Shisui. Tobirama felt a bitter taste come up his mouth. Shisui was decent to work with, but Izuna grated on his nerves.

Tobirama needed to stretch his legs and found himself walking with Deidara out of the office. 

“So is the florist single? I can see why the crews jumped to helping with manual labor, Un. “ Tobirama rolled his eyes. 

As they rounded the corner he had to stop for a second. Sakura was sitting in one of the beat up chairs, he made a mental note to get new ones the moment they had the extra money. She was hunched over her tablet, engrossed in her work.  As he went to speak to her, he heard him. 

“Sakura! How is my little brother treating you?” Hashirama bounced into the station, like a monkey with cymbals. Sakura looked up from her work and smiled at him. 

“Hashirama it's good to see you again. Tobirama has been great to work with. I am just working on our main event for the ball.” Tobirama let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Brother what are you doing here?” Tobirama made his presence known to the duo. He quickly evaded his brother’s hug. 

“I wanted to see how the planning was going. Tell me what is the main event?” Before Tobirama could speak, Sakura cut in. 

“Well we still need to discuss it with the crew, but we were thinking of an auction. A day with a firefighter. Thank you for the list, by the way. There are 3 crews in this station, so I hope that if all 12 participate we would raise enough money.” Sakura started to gather her things. Hashirama was deep in thought. 

“Don’t worry I’m sure all the guys will jump at the chance. Also count Tobirama and myself in as well.” If Tobirama had no self control his mouth would be hanging open like a fish. What did his brother just say? There was no way in hell he was going to participate in this. 

“What was that brother?” Hashirama had a glint in his eye. He went over to Tobirama and slapped his back. 

“Oh come on. Don’t be a stick in the mud. This is for charity. Don’t you want to beat KPD?” Hashirama knew exactly what to say to get his brother to agree to this. 

“Fine.” Tobirama had no desire to participate in the event. He wasn’t fully on board with it.  He wanted to raise more money this year. If the goal was to raise money for charity there was nothing wrong with some competition, right? Plus he couldn't make a scene in front of Sakura and the guys. The moment Hashirama and he were alone they would discuss this. 

[raywritesthings]

Bird in a Storm 1/17

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Quentin Lance, John Diggle, Tommy Merlyn, Lucas Hilton, Thea Queen Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary:  The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel's career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. AU from 1x13 “Betrayal” on. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

On the island, split second decisions had been the difference between life and death, and there had never been time to worry about the moral implications. That had always come later. But Oliver already hated himself for what he was about to do.

There was only one way off this roof that would ensure his safety and his identity. One way to survive.

Oliver grabbed hold of Laurel with one arm, pulling her back against his chest. She was rigid, and he could feel the hammering of her heart. Fear. He had broken the precarious trust she’d placed in the Arrow once again.

Lance’s eyes burned with rage. “You so much as leave a bruise on her, and I swear I will drag you down to hell myself.”

“Laurel, I’m sorry.”

With a slight shove, he turned with one arm already pointing his bow to shoot a grapple hook arrow — but in the same instant the shot rang out.

Louder to his ears was the punch of air that left Laurel as she staggered back into him with the force of it. Oliver felt his heart stop as his arm came round her once more, this time to hold her up.

There had been the crack of a bone. He couldn’t tell if there was blood. What kind of bullet had Lance let his men use?

“Laurel,” he breathed, watching her eyelids flutter in response.

An anguished wail left Lance, and he teetered forward and back on his feet before whirling around and snarling at his own task force. “Guns down! Who fired?”

Another split second decision, this time with someone else’s life in the balance.

Oliver pushed the consequences to the back of his mind and spun Laurel around, encouraging her to get her good arm around his neck. She clung on as if by instinct. Then he jumped with her in his hold.

The shouting of Lance and the other officers was lost in the wind rushing past his ears. Once he regained his feet, Oliver scooped Laurel’s legs up with his other arm and broke into a run. The pained whimper that left her at the sudden movement tore at his heart. This was all his fault. He should’ve been more careful. What sort of monster was he that he’d been willing to gamble her life?

“I’m sorry,” he said again in the Hood’s voice, hardly a comfort. Oliver frowned and refocused on moving forward.

He could get her to a hospital faster than all of them, and he was loathe to trust any of them with her at the moment.

But they would never let him leave once he relinquished Laurel.

Only a split second to decide.

He changed course, activating his comm and praying that Diggle was listening.

“Get the medical supplies ready.”

“Oliver? What the hell happened to you?”

“It’s not for me.” Laurel’s breathing was growing shallower by the minute. It was possible she was entering shock. He couldn’t stop to treat her for that, not when every cop in the city was bound to be looking for them soon.

But he was unwilling to let it go without trying to reach her and keep her grounded. “You have to remain calm.”

Laurel’s breathing only seemed to pick up, and her face turned from him. Right, he terrified people like this. The Hood was the last person anyone would want at their figurative bedside.

He didn’t think Oliver Queen was much better. But he had to try.

With a soft beep he deactivated the voice modulator. “Stay with me, Laurel. Please.”

There was a hitch in her breath and then her head fell back, looking up at him.

“...Ollie?”

Without the modulator, he couldn’t hope to hide the tremble in his voice. “I’m so sorry.”

He wasn’t really sure if she was seeing him. Her eyes remained wide and shocked as he rounded the final corner into the alley behind the Verdant. Oliver took the last few steps at an even faster run.

“Just a bit farther. It’s gonna be alright.”

Digg was waiting at the exam table, but he looked up as soon as Oliver cleared the stairs.

“Oh, hell.”

“Not now, John. Please.” He laid Laurel on the table and pushed the hood back from his face. “Help me.”

Diggle held his gaze for a long moment. “Pass me the scissors. Need to get at her shoulder.”

---

John did exactly as he had always done in Afghanistan: work quietly and quickly. Oliver was much too tense for conversation as it was, and truthfully he wasn’t much better.

Laurel Lance’s gunshot wound wasn’t a penetration. From what he could feel, she had a clavicle fracture. Rubber bullet, most likely. It wouldn’t need surgery, though she was going to need some work to regain the full use of her left arm. Better that than a few inches to the left and a shot to the face that would have had much more potential to be lethal.

She’d lost consciousness, for which he was a little grateful. Oliver didn’t put much stock in painkillers, so they didn’t have much on hand. They’d want to save it for when she woke up.

But soon enough he was laying down the leftover supplies from the makeshift splint he’d crafted and stripping the gloves off his hands, the silence in the base growing heavier by the minute. He drew in a breath, then asked at last, “Oliver, what were you thinking? What happened?”

There was no immediate answer. Oliver seemed to be taking some time to gather his thoughts. He’d found a jacket to drape over Laurel in her sleep, the closest thing they had to a blanket down here, and John watched him take care not to touch her shoulder as he tucked it around her. Oliver brushed some of her hair back behind her ear, his expression utterly unreadable. Finally he took a step back and looked up.

“It was an ambush. Lance must have figured out how we were meeting, and he brought his whole task force.”

John wiped some of the sweat from his forehead. Sometimes he didn’t know how Oliver got himself into or out of these situations. “And how does that end up with an innocent woman shot? Lance’s daughter shot?”

Something crossed over Oliver’s face, darkening his expression. “The only way to get off the roof was to place her between me and them. But when I pushed her towards Lance someone must have had their finger resting on the trigger, and the sudden movement…” He trailed off, but John could gather the rest.

“So what made you bring her here?”

Oliver looked at him as though he’d just spouted pure insanity. “It was one of Lance’s men who shot her. I couldn’t leave her there. And I wouldn’t have been able to get out of the hospital without being arrested.”

It might not have been impossible, but he could see the difficulty. John looked down at Laurel Lance. They had very few options and very little time to act, but some things needed to be decided now.

“Are we letting her wake up here? Cause if we do, she knows everything,” he pointed out, no doubt needlessly. Oliver crossed his arms tight, as if trying to hold in the rising panic at what his actions had caused. “If you help me get her in the car, I can drive her to a hospital.”

But Oliver was already shaking his head. “There’s no way to explain how you or I would have found her. Lance saw the Hood take her, so that would put me right back in the station.”

“Right, and now he’s got kidnapping to add to his list of charges.”

“I’d like to add reckless endangerment to a list of his crimes,” Oliver growled. “What was he thinking, John? The only daughter he has left could have been killed tonight and all for his obsession.”

“Some people are willing to do whatever it takes when they’re on a mission,” he said, his voice carefully light.

Judging by the look Oliver sent him, the double meaning wasn’t missed.

He plowed ahead anyway. “But seeing as she is his daughter, what’s to stop her from telling him the truth whenever she wakes up? She’s gonna have the power to end this whole thing, Oliver. To end both of us.”

Oliver shook his head. “That’s not something Laurel would do.”

“Yeah, well I’d feel more confident about that if you hadn’t just got her shot.”

He watched Oliver frown and pace away, grabbing up his change of clothes to finally shed the Hood’s suit.

When he returned, he was scrolling through his phone with an even deeper frown.

“Missed calls?”

“Yeah, about twenty. Tommy, mom, Thea — hold on.”

The phone had started buzzing in Oliver’s hand, and he placed it up to his ear. “Hello?”

There was a pause where John thought he could hear the chatter of Oliver’s sister on the other end.

“Speedy, slow down. What?” He glanced down to Laurel and briefly touched her still hand. “That’s… horrible,” Oliver said, seemingly struggling for the right word for a moment. “Of course, I’ll head right down. I’ll be careful. Love you.”

“So what’s going on?” John asked once he’d hung up.

“There’s a search being organized for Laurel. And a manhunt for the Hood. Lance is on the warpath.” He gave Laurel’s hand another squeeze and looked up. “I have to go join the search.”

“Something tells me you’re not planning to be too helpful.”

Oliver gave him a dry look. “Considering I’m trying not to prove I’m the Hood, that would be the idea. Text me the minute she wakes up, please. Or if anything about her condition changes.”

“Right.”

Oliver turned to go, but stopped and looked back. “John, I — thank you.”

John nodded. There wasn’t anything that needed to be said. Whether or not he agreed with what had happened tonight didn’t matter; they were in this together regardless.

He sighed as the door shut behind Oliver, and he settled into the chair in front of the computer. From this position he could keep an eye on their patient without being uncomfortably close. No doubt she’d be disoriented enough upon waking already.

John considered their options going forward. Everything hinged on whether or not Laurel Lance considered the Hood an enemy or still her friend. Or perhaps it mattered how she considered Oliver more.

He had wondered from time to time if it might be better that some of the people in Oliver’s life knew the truth. It would lessen the constant demands on his time, anyway. And he knew the longer he isolated himself, the longer it’d take for him to come back from those years on the island. John himself had only just started feeling like a part of the world again after Afghanistan, and he had Carly in his life. A.J., too, even if his nephew wasn’t quite old enough to fully understand why Andy had never come home from the war.

But none of what John had done was technically illegal...

Laurel was a gamble but she was perhaps still the best option for who could find out first. She’d proved willing to work with the Hood multiple times, unlike the rest of Oliver’s circle who seemed convinced the vigilante was a dangerous lunatic. She was close to Oliver without being an actual family member John knew he couldn’t stand to lose. And with her in the know, perhaps she’d be less of a distraction that led to mistakes like tonight’s events.

Finding himself cautiously optimistic, John leaned back in his chair to wait. It was all they could do now.

---

Quentin was about ready to rip his hair out. How could the night he’d planned to catch that damn vigilante have gone any worse?

He’d had him. He’d had him in his sights. Then the bastard had grabbed Laurel, and he’d felt his heart stop. Only things hadn’t ended there.

One of his officers, one of his own, had shot his daughter. Starling’s supposed finest. He still couldn’t believe it.

It had all felt like some horrible nightmare where things had kept spiraling out of his control. He should’ve never taken his eyes off her. That had been a rookie mistake. As it was, that Hood had had Laurel off the roof and down onto the streets below before Quentin could do so much as turn and run to the edge. They’d disappeared in the shadows between two buildings as he’d screamed her name.

Pike had been about as furious as Lance had ever heard him when he’d called in the botched operation and requested more forces to begin canvassing the area. He’d deal with that later; right now, it was his own rage and fear he had to keep in check.

Pike’s new superior Captain Stein’s first and foremost demand had been to allow the reporters who had swarmed around the scene to believe that it was an arrow Laurel had been hit with and not a bullet. Damage control was always the first thing on the brass’s minds, none of them having learned from Nudocerdo’s mistakes, apparently. It didn’t sit well with Quentin; lying about the facts of a case never did. And he wanted justice for his daughter.

He’d see that officer thrown off the force whether the public knew why or not. As for the vigilante, he was starting to wonder if he should’ve put a bullet in him months ago. If he was willing to abduct Laurel, someone that for whatever reason believed he was some kind of force for good in this city, who knew what else he was capable of?

They’d found nothing in the immediate perimeter that had been set up. Now he stood over a map, outlining where the combined groups of police patrols and volunteers should look next. A couple of Laurel’s colleagues had come out, but nothing compared to the outpouring of aid from the Glades. Whole families had come up to him with stories from their time as Laurel’s clients. If he wasn’t so worried, he might have been proud.

But none were as much of a wreck —outwardly anyway — as Merlyn. He’d come screeching up to the edge of their perimeter and leapt out of his car before the engine was fully off.

“Detective Lance! I just saw the news. Have you found anything?”

He’d tossed his third cup of coffee and shook his head. “Not yet.”

“But why would he shoot her and then take her with him?” Merlyn had finally managed to get one of his gangly legs over the tape they had tied between two telephone poles and jogged the rest of the way to him. “I mean, I know he’s crazy, but that beats about anything yet.”

Quentin had looked him up and down, then stepped closer. “Look, uh, I’m gonna level with you. It was a misfire from an officer.”

Merlyn had reeled back. “The cops shot her?”

“Would you keep it down?” He’d growled. “It was a rubber bullet. Laurel wasn’t the target.”

“What was she even doing there?”

“She’s been talking to him. The Hood.”

Merlyn had frowned. “I told her he was dangerous.” Something had darkened in his expression. “When they catch him—”

“You’ll have to get in line. Now are you here to look or not?”

Merlyn had stuck by his elbow ever since, helping coordinate between the various groups. The organizational aspects seemed to keep him calmer, as calm as he could be given the circumstances.

“Is there a neighborhood he’s been spotted in more often than others? He’s gotta have some kind of home base, right?” Merlyn wondered aloud. “What if he ditched her out in the Glades somewhere? She’s totally defenseless.”

“We’ll comb the whole city if we have to—”

Anything else he’d been planning to say was drowned out by the motorcycle that came roaring down the street before stopping just beyond the police tape. Quentin scowled, though not as much as when he got a look at who the driver was. Oh Christ, and he’d been wondering if it could get worse.

“Queen, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Just saw the news and wanted to help join the search.”

“Yeah, you’re the last kind of help I need.”

Queen frowned, and his tone had a coldness Quentin hadn’t known he possessed as he replied, “Laurel is my friend, and the most important thing to me right now is that she is safe. I would have hoped that’s something we could agree on.”

“I know I can,” Merlyn said before Quentin could answer to that. He embraced his friend for a brief moment. “God, Ollie, you think she’s okay?”

“I have to believe that. But the longer we go without any news it seems less likely.

In this city, money talks.” He turned back towards Quentin. “I would like to pledge ten million dollars to anyone who comes forward with credible information about Laurel or the Hood.”

Quentin was glad he hadn’t been drinking his coffee. As it was, he was still left spluttering. “Ten million! For information?”

Queen’s serious expression never wavered. “Laurel is worth that and more.”

Merlyn gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah, but no one’s asking you to bankrupt yourself.”

“I lived without money for five years, Tommy. But I can’t go back to living without the people I care about.”

He and Merlyn exchanged a look, thrown by the blunt statement. Quentin cleared his throat and said, “Alright, well I can’t stop you. Are you actually gonna join this search or just throw money around?”

“I’d like to,” Queen said, his tone clipped.

“Go talk to Detective Hall, then. She could use another volunteer for her team.” As the younger man turned and left he thought he could feel the air grow less heavy. Quentin shook it off and turned back to his maps.

The hours continued to crawl by, and though calls increased as the news of Queen’s reward spread, none of it turned up anything useful. Slogging through each and every tip however legitimate was more likely to just slow them down.

Hilton approached him with another coffee and pursed lips. He knew his partner had something he wanted to say about everything that had gone down on that roof, but Quentin also knew he didn’t want to hear it.

“No word yet,” he muttered.

“Quentin, I think we gotta be honest with ourselves. He’s not gonna be wandering out on the streets for us to find.”

“I’m not giving up looking, Hilt—”

“I’m not saying you should,” his partner interrupted. “But we need to fix our strategy.”

“Alright. Well, what did you have in mind?”

“There’s been no ransom, no attempt at contact. Laurel has the only phone with a direct line to him,” Hilt said, looking to him for a nod to confirm. “We need to start a dialogue.”

“How do you wanna do that?”

“He’ll probably have an eye on the news to see what our next move is. I think it’d be best for you to address him directly.”

Quentin stood up straight. “You think I’m gonna negotiate with that nut job?”

Hilt’s gaze never wavered. “Your daughter was injured. She needs medical care, and the longer we wait the less likely that’s gonna happen.”

Quentin stared hard at the ground. He knew Hilt was right. No matter how badly he wanted to catch this vigilante, he needed Laurel back. Things had already gone badly enough once.

“The only thing we know for sure makes this guy tick is that he’s got ideas about justice. There’s no justice in taking Laurel. You gotta appeal to that.”

He tried not to scoff. “You think that’s really gonna work?”

“Well, we know he’s been willing to talk to you before. That means a part of him’s got to be willing to listen.”

Hilton got everything arranged. Before Quentin felt remotely ready Green from the nightly news was there with a cameraman, and some woman was pinning a mic to his lapel.

“We are on the scene live for the search both for Dinah Laurel Lance, a lawyer for the nonprofit CNRI, and the infamous Hood, who has — for the first time — taken a hostage,” Green stated to the camera a few paces away. “Detective Quentin Lance, who is leading the search as well as the SCPD’s anti-vigilante task force, has asked our network to broadcast this address to the vigilante himself.”

The woman who’d miced him cued him with the point of a finger.

Quentin squinted into the camera lens. “Alright, I’m gonna make this brief. You are and have always been a criminal since you showed your hood around here. I don’t want anyone thinking otherwise, especially after tonight. You’ve abducted an innocent woman. More than that, you’ve abducted my daughter. There’s not a lot of ways this can end for you.”

He drew in and let out a breath.

“But that’s not what the people of this city have come together for. The people who are out there right now searching and hoping for the safe return of one of our own. So I am asking you to turn Laurel Lance over to the nearest precinct. There will be no ambush. No armed officers. You bring her back and you have one night of immunity. I guarantee it. This is my daughter, and I just want her home.”

This felt all too familiar all of a sudden. Not that he’d ever done this, but he had watched years ago as a different father had pleaded on live television for Barton Mathis not to carry out his sick experiment on the latest woman he’d taken.

It hadn’t done any good. Quentin had found her one night later with Dollmaker’s usual adjustments. He’d broken the news to her family as gently as he knew how, but he remembered to this day the man’s sobs over her body in the morgue.

He could become one of those fathers. He could lose the only daughter he had left.

It felt very hard to breath, and whatever he’d meant to say next completely escaped him. “She’s my daughter,” he heard himself repeat. “I don’t know why you took her, what you want with her. If this is about me, then come after me. But not her.”

He could see it again, the way she’d fallen limply back into that lunatic’s arms.

“She needs a doctor. Please, just let her go. I don’t know if you’ve got a family or not. But she’s all I have. Please. I- I can’t—”

Quentin turned sharply away from the camera and the lights. He ripped the microphone off and shoved it at the assistant as he walked past. “I can’t,” he repeated hoarsely.

Behind him, he could hear Green speak again, but didn’t process the words. He was teetering somewhere on an edge, torn between his need to bury himself in the work and his desire for a stiff drink.

As he exited the ring of camera equipment he could feel a pair of eyes on him. Quentin looked up and somehow wasn’t surprised to see who it was waiting and watching.

“What is it, Queen?”

“I have to go home to arrange the reward with my mother and our bank.”

“Right. Fine.”

Queen hesitated, like he wanted to say something more. Quentin mustered up a glare to make it clear he better not. The billionaire finally gave a small shake of the head and headed back to his bike.

Good riddance. He’d be damned if the man who had gotten Sara killed somehow saved Laurel.

---

Laurel came to cold and stiff, with a dull, throbbing ache in her left shoulder that seemed to only grow worse the longer she lay there. She gave a small groan and could only seem to get one arm to cooperate as she pushed herself up from a metal table. A jacket she swore she’d seen before slipped off her onto her lap, and she stared at it dumbly.

“Try not to touch your left shoulder,” a familiar voice said, and Laurel gave a start as she looked up and met Mr. Diggle’s calm gaze. “The splint should be holding things in place, and the painkillers should be kicking in.”

“Painkillers…”

She noticed the sleeve of her shirt and jacket had been cut away to expose her shoulder, which had an angry red welt from what she could see of it under the splint. Laurel shrugged her way into the jacket for a bit of coverage, more for her own comfort than any mistrust of Mr. Diggle. 

It smelled mostly of sweat, but also something familiar that had a strange calming effect considering she was in an unknown place with a man she was only tertiarily familiar with and no idea how any of it had happened.

It was slowly coming back to her; the rooftop, her father’s men pointing their guns at her and the Hood both, the shot and the shock of pain that had followed. Then things got hazier. She remembered being carried somewhere, the Hood’s voice transforming into Oliver’s midway through, and his eyes staring back at her from under the hood.

Slowly her eyes were taking in their surroundings. The tables lined with green-tipped arrows, a computer, a training mat and one of those workout ladders.

The air whooshed out of her in one soft, “Oh.”

Mr. Diggle drew in a breath. “Yeah. You get used to it.”

“Uh-huh.”

Oliver was the Hood. Oliver Queen, former playboy and the man who had broken her heart five years ago, was the vigilante who had been giving people in the city hope. Who had been giving her hope. She… she’d believed in him.

“Do you remember what happened to you?”

She appreciated the question, because it gave her mind something to focus on besides the shock. “I was shot. One of the task force members my father…” Laurel trailed off and shook her head, not wanting to believe it. “How could he?”

“I don’t know,” Mr. Diggle answered softly. “That splint should be enough to put the bone back into place, but it’s gonna take a while to fully heal.”

It occurred to her that he was apologizing. Laurel shook her head.

“That’s okay. Um, do you have some water?”

He nodded and went to get her a cup. Laurel managed to swing her legs over the side of the table to sit up properly by the time he was back, though her left side was throbbing even more in protest. She accepted the drink with a quiet thanks and sipped at it, letting her eyes take in the whole space for a second time.

“Where’s Oliver?”

“Went to go join the search for you,” Mr. Diggle answered. “I let him know you’re awake, though, so he’ll find a reason to come back.”

“The search?”

“Police saw you get taken away by the Hood. They’re saying you’re his hostage.”

Something that didn’t quite sound like a laugh bubbled up and escaped her.

“Here,” Mr. Diggle said, passing her his phone. “You don’t have to take my word for it.”

He’d pulled up a news site running what they were calling a breaking news story. Hood Takes Hostage, the banner at the bottom read. Seeing her own photo displayed along with a hotline number for anyone to call who had information on her whereabouts was bizarre to say the least.

“Oh God.” Laurel set the phone aside and placed her hand on her forehead. “This is a mess.”

He didn’t disagree.

A door somewhere above them opened and Laurel looked around as Oliver entered whatever place they were in. He stopped at the bottom of the steps as he met her eyes.

There was a look in them, an intensity she until now had only been able to guess at. Now she could only wonder how she hadn’t seen it.

Except she had, hadn’t she?

“So… when you said you couldn’t be some vigilante, that was a lie.”

Oliver looked down, then slowly crossed the room to her table. “How are you feeling?”

“About as good as getting shot feels.”

A pained look flickered across his face. “I’m sorry. I never meant for this to happen to you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Laurel replied.

“The police were after me, not you,” he insisted.

She shook her head. “Ollie, the first rule of firearms is you never point at a target unless you’re prepared to take the shot. Even if just with rubber. They were ready and willing to shoot me.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Diggle nod in agreement.

“Anyway, I knew the risks.”

“I didn’t want to take those risks with you,” said Oliver.

Laurel felt the corner of her mouth lift in a wry smile. “Well, it’s a little late for that. So… what happens now?”

Oliver exchanged a look with Mr. Diggle, then drew in a breath. “You know my secret.”

“Yes.”

There was a long pause.

“I think he’s trying to ask how you’re feeling about it,” Mr. Diggle finally said. She couldn’t quite suppress a smirk while Ollie fidgeted.

“I guess a part of me knew. I would have preferred you just admitted it when I asked you, but here we are.”

“Here we are,” Oliver echoed.

“Ollie, I agreed with what the Hood has been doing. I wouldn’t have worked with you if I didn’t. Knowing it’s you doesn’t change that. If anything — well, it’s nice to know I can contact you as easily as you could me.”

He was staring at her like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. “You want to work with me.”

“Yes,” she said, dragging the word out slightly. “I’ve been working with you, if you haven’t noticed. And you’re my friend. If you needed help, all you had to do was ask.”

“But the Hood’s — I mean I — Laurel, I’ve killed people.” For whatever reason, he seemed frustrated with her. “I’m not a good person.”

“No, you’re a good person trying to do good things who has not always used good methods.” Laurel leaned a bit to the side, as much as her shoulder would allow, to try and catch his eyes which were determinedly stuck to the floor. “If you weren’t a good person, you wouldn’t have returned the money Adam Hunt stole to his victims. Or intervened in Peter Declan’s case. Or helped get justice for Joanna’s brother and the other firefighters. You are more than just a killer, Ollie.”

He finally lifted his gaze, and Laurel felt a pain somewhere in her chest at the doubt that she saw there. This was what he had meant when he’d told her of the damage he didn’t want his loved ones to see. It was not the physical scars from the island he carried, but the things he’d had to learn and to do there to make it back to them. Things he could have chosen to leave behind and live out a comfortable life, but instead was using to make their city a better place for everyone.

“No one can get it right all of the time — not even the cops do,” she remarked with chagrin. Laurel then slid off the table and took a step towards him. “But I believed in the Hood, and I believe in you, too.”

Slowly, she wrapped her good arm around his middle and tucked her head under his chin, the best approximation of a hug she could manage at the moment. Oliver didn’t move away, but he stood still for a long moment. So long it had her holding her breath wondering if she’d done the wrong thing. But then, his arms came around her, one hand cupping the back of her head, and she felt as well as heard the shuddering breath he released in time with her own.

She’d asked the Hood once if the life he’d chosen to lead made him lonely. It was clear to her now that Oliver was.

Laurel stood there as long as she dared, until the throbbing in her shoulder was too much to ignore. She pulled back and couldn’t stop herself from reaching a hand up to touch the spot. When she darted a guilty look in Mr. Diggle’s direction, however, she found him smiling.

Oliver had focused in on her injury. “We really do need to get you to a hospital. Digg’s work is good, but you should have a professional look at it.”

“I know. But can it wait? Just a little,” she added as he frowned. “I just know the minute I’m checked in somewhere my father will show up, and after what happened tonight I’m not sure I can face him right now.”

“Of course,” Oliver said, voice soft. “Laurel, I’m so sorry he did this to you.”

“It’s not your fault,” she repeated. “I just, um, I guess I wish I could be surprised.” Laurel looked up, the smile she attempted wobbly at best, and found Oliver’s eyes swimming with remorse.

“Well, while you’re here, why don’t we give you the tour?” Mr. Diggle suggested.

She turned to him, grateful for the distraction. “Sure. Where even is here?”

“We’re under the club,” said Oliver.

“Wait, really?” They both nodded and she gave a slight shake of the head, trying to reorient herself. “Is that why you’re opening it?”

“More or less.”

“Well, I hope you have somewhere to stash all of this when you get inspected.”

Oliver’s face scrunched up in confusion, and Laurel stared at him. He couldn’t really not realize — but then he asked, “What inspection?”

“The building inspection? Ollie, you have to get everything about your place of business approved by the zoning board before you open. Now I’m sure there’s an inspector or two on the payroll who would take a bribe, but that’ll come back to bite you if anybody bothers looking into your finances.”

She watched Oliver and Mr. Diggle exchange a look.

“We- we’re looking into some options.”

“Right,” she said, unconvinced.

She was shown the basic layout of the place, not that there was too much down here. Even still, it was the Hood’s base. Oliver’s base. His eyes kept going to her shoulder, and Laurel knew she couldn’t delay getting it looked at by a real doctor forever.

Mr. Diggle was the one to help her into the back of a plain black car with tinted windows. He dropped her off at the mouth of an alley just two blocks from the hospital. Laurel walked herself right into the waiting room of the ER and up to the desk.

“Hi, I was hoping someone could look at my shoulder.”

“Alright, if you could fill out this—” the rest of the receptionist’s words died on his lips as he looked up. “Oh my God, it’s you!”

“Um, yeah. I’m not missing anymore.” If she could’ve shrugged, she probably would have. “And I’m not sure I really ever was.”

---

Tommy cursed under his breath as he rounded yet another corner of the parking garage and found no open spaces. He nearly reached the roof before he was able to park and took the stairs rather than wait for the elevator.

There wasn’t a helpful flashing sign pointing out Laurel’s room, so he threw himself at the first help desk he could find.

“I’m here to see Laurel Lance.”

“Are you family?”

“I’m her boyfriend. Please? I haven’t slept all night. And I brought her pajamas and a change of clothes.”

The woman at the desk relented with a sigh. “Down to the left, third room.”

Tommy flashed her as winning of a smile as he could manage while exhausted. “Thank you.”

He should have realized which room was hers from the start judging by the officer stationed outside it. He was allowed past with little fuss and found Laurel sitting up in the bed in a hospital gown and a strange white sling that crossed over both shoulders, her father and a doctor and nurse all standing to the sides.

“Hey.”

Laurel turned to him and managed a brief smile. “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Of course I was.” He walked forward and placed the bag in the currently vacant visitor’s chair, then leaned in to press a kiss to her lips. “I was worried sick about you.” Tommy looked back up to the doctor. “How’s she doing?”

“Better than we would have expected. Physical therapy is still highly recommended, of course, but her injury was very competently treated in a short amount of time.”

Tommy didn’t know how that was possible. “By who?”

“The Hood,” Lance said, practically a growl. “He made some sling out of scraps and put it on my daughter.”

“Your daughter who is awake and here and does not like being talked about as if she is not in the room,” Laurel added pointedly.

Lance grimaced. “We’ll, uh, we’ll leave you to get changed, honey.”

They all shuffled out and shut the door behind them. The nurse continued down the corridor, but Lance snagged the doctor’s arm before he could get away.

“Listen, is there anything you can tell me about her injuries or the job he did? I mean what kind of training would somebody have to do one of those splints?”

Tommy felt both his eyebrows raise. He hadn’t even realized there was something to be learned about the Hood from all this, but he guessed that’s why Lance had the badge.

The doctor hesitated. “Well, one thing I suppose you should know, Detective, is that the police report cannot be correct. Your daughter’s wound wasn’t inflicted by an arrow. I’d say it’s likely to have been from a rubber bullet.”

“Alright, alright, but what about him? The Hood? Is there anything we can use to narrow down just who this guy is?”

“Laurel didn’t have anything?” Tommy couldn’t help asking.

Lance scowled. “She’s not talking if she does.”

“She’s still sticking up for this guy? He got her shot,” Tommy said. He couldn’t believe how stubborn Laurel was about this lunatic in their city. He couldn’t believe she’d been meeting him in secret either.

“Yeah, well, that’s why we’ll have to make do with what we can find out on our own. So, doctor—”

The door to Laurel’s room flew open to reveal her standing there fully clothed and seething.

“I cannot believe you two. After what just happened last night?”

Tommy exchanged a panicked look with her father and decided to allow him to try first.

“Laurel—”

“My body is not a crime scene!” She glared at each of them in turn before rounding on the doctor. “I didn’t sign any sort of release of information waiver, and my status as a legal adult means my father is not entitled to it even if he is on the force. So I’d suggest you think real hard about whether you want a lawsuit or not.”

She retreated back into her room with the slam of a door, leaving a very uncomfortable silence in her wake.

“I guess visiting hours are over?” Tommy joked weakly.

“I would suggest that you gentlemen return home for the time being,” said the doctor. “Visitation will reopen later in the morning.”

Lance didn’t look to like that much more than Tommy did, but before either of them could say anything, Laurel’s door was opening again, and this time she had her coat and bag.

“Laurel, what are you doing?” Her father asked.

“I’m discharging myself.”

“That wouldn’t be a course of action I recommend,” the doctor began.

“Well, I don’t really give a damn what any of you think right now.” She strode past them all down the corridor, heading for the elevators.

“Laurel!” Tommy had to jog to catch up with her quick march. “Laurel, wait, please. I brought the car.”

She did have to wait for the elevator, so he was able to catch up. He could tell she wanted to cross her arms but couldn’t due to her bad shoulder.

“Look, I’m sorry. But do you get that we were worried? You were missing for hours. And that Hood, he- he took you.” Something churned unpleasantly in his gut at the thought. He’d never liked the vigilante’s interest in Laurel, and this had been a step way too far in his book.

Laurel relaxed somewhat as they got into the elevator. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, but it doesn’t change the fact that my father went over the line last night and still is. I have four weeks of physical therapy to look forward to because of him, not the Hood.”

Tommy thought he could argue the point that Laurel wouldn’t have even been on that roof without the Hood, but the doors opened out to the level he was parked on and they walked to the car in silence.

As they left the parking garage, Laurel sat up in surprise at all the news crews parked outside the front entrance.

“What are they doing here?”

“Probably hoping to get in for an interview,” he answered, tone clipped. “The whole thing was on TV.”

Laurel seemed to notice his mood and fell silent. They didn’t speak all the way back, not until they’d finally gotten into the apartment.

“So,” Tommy began as he hung up his coat. “Are we going to talk about it?”

“About what?”

He shook his head. “Laurel, you cancelled on me because you said you had work. Next thing I know, you’ve been kidnapped in a standoff with the Hood.”

She winced. “Tommy, I’m sorry. It was about a case. Cyrus Vanch—”

“No, Laurel, the Hood is not work, okay? Vigilantes are not your coworkers. You were hurt, and it could have been so much worse. And as much as you want to blame your dad, you were the one who went to that rooftop!”

He regretted the outburst almost immediately, and the stricken look on Laurel’s face only made matters worse.

“Look, just promise me you’re not gonna put yourself in a position where that lunatic can get to you again, okay?”

“Tommy—”

“Please, Laurel.”

She looked down. “Nothing like that is going to happen again. I promise.”

He felt himself relax and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Okay, what do we need to do to get you ready for sleep?”

Laurel was able to do most of the work changing her clothes for pajamas. It was just the one sleeve she had trouble with, apparently, and he had a feeling it was only due to her exhaustion that she let him help. Because of the risk of further hurting her shoulder, he was going to be spending his nights the next few weeks in the guest room. A great feeling considering he’d only recently been allowed his own drawer in the bedroom.

The one thing Tommy could console himself with was that it was all over, and Laurel was safe. In time, her shoulder would heal. Maybe now their lives could get back to some kind of normal.