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vanchlo · 4 years ago

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Magic Moment

Hello! I could NOT resist writing another blurb about boyfriend!harry for my lovely friend, @bfharry‘s BOYFRIENDATHON after I got this idea! I’ve always loved baseball myself and playing lots of catch at work recently inspired this, as well as falling in love with Queen ;) Enjoy some fluff about playing catch with boyfriend!harry at your childhood home c:

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.4k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: This Magic Moment by Ben E. King and The Drifters (click to listen and yes Sandlot *wink*)

“Follow your heart, kid, and you can never go wrong.”

- The Sandlot

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” you jest, giggling nervously. The screen door closes with a loud whap! behind the both of you.

“Ya, maybe it wasn’t fer you,” he sighs in a whisper, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His high-top white converses slap! down the wooden stairs quickly. “I think I need anotha beer afta that.”

“Follow me.”

A humid heat hits you in the face when you open the scarlet-colored door to the garage. The familiar smell welcomes you, and so do the sights of your father’s tools hanging up on the walls. The lawn mower still sits in the same spot, his pair of old glasses remain perched on the windowsill, and the tiny mini fridge in the corner awaits your call.

“Thanks,” he mumbles after taking a long pull from the refreshing beer. You opt for a Whiskey-Coke, instead, the carbonation sending shooting stars across your tongue. You watch him wipe away the bead of sweat running down his forehead, and then the subsequent smile that drills the dimples into his cheeks. “Bloody hell, if that isn’t tha cutest thing ‘ve eva seen.”

A questioning ‘what’ barely passes your lips once you spot the miniature lilac colored baseball glove on a shelf. Next, a laugh falls from your lips and he echoes it with his own adorable concoction.

“Hard t’ believe yer hand was eva that tiny, love.”

“I know, it’s funny that my dad kept it around.”

“I would if I were him, ‘s bloody adorable,” he notes, picking up the battered leather mitt with a content smile. “Ah, lookie here. Up fer a game o’ catch, love? Bet I could whoop yer ass.”

“Harry, you can’t beat somebody in catch!” you protest, the cool liquid gracing your lips, providing you a few seconds of relief from the summer heat.

“We’ll just see ‘bout that, now won’t we?” he teases with a wiggle of his eyebrows. A tan, leather baseball glove hits you square in the chest, landing in your arms while he slips on a darker twin of it. “C’mon, I wanna see how girly of a throw ya got.”

“Oh, shut up. You have no idea what’s coming for you. You’re dating a former softball player here.”

“Am I now? Ya don’t seem that intimidatin’ t’ me, miss,” Harry laughs softly, the billowy cotton of his red Hawaiian themed shirt catching the wind once your feet find the grass. “Dunno how anythin’ can be intimidatin’ afta meetin’ yer bleedin’ father, tho’. Bloody hell,” he remarks, shaking his head.

“It really wasn’t that bad, Harry,” you correct him, placing your tall can beside his dark glass bottle.

“It was. Didn’t know he’d be so fookin’ hard on me, askin’ all o’ those questions. He never even smiled at me once, babe,” he scoffs, sliding the glove onto his large hand and messing around with it until it’s comfortable enough.

“Yes, he did.”

“No, he didn’t. Or I didn’t see it. Dunno why he was so cold t’ me. Ya’ve always had such good things t’ say ‘bout growin’ up with him . . ,” he exhales, tossing the ancient brown and red baseball into the mitt. His short curls dance around atop his head as he crosses the large backyard, the very same one you played kickball in, where you hit home run balls into the woods, set cartwheel records in, and still have the pieces of wood set into the ground marking the bases.

“He’s quiet, Harry, that’s all. You just have to find something in common with him, and then you’ll hit it off. I promise you, he liked you.”

“Don’t believe ya there, he was givin' me tha evil eye tha whole time durin’ dinna, even tho’ I was fakin’ likin’ his burgers. They were dry as hell,” he grumbles, soon coming to a stop a good way across the grassy area. Messing with his light-washed denim shorts, he checks his phone before letting it fall back into one of its pockets. “Reckon ‘s cuz yer his li’l girl, loads mo’ protective o’ you cuzz’a that.”

“Keep going, I’m not a sissy.”

“Oh, so I should go long, ‘s that right? Dunno if ya can make it t’ me if I go back any farther,” he winks, the dimples set into his cheeks all the way from here, you notice.

“Would you hush? I pitched all throughout high school, I can make your hand hurt from catching it, if you keep running your mouth,” you argue.

“Oooooo, she’s gettin’ feisty now,” he chuckles, raising his voice to carry across the clipped green grass, tall trees framing the yard. He pats his taut fist into the palm of the glove, the baseball snug in his large hand. Why, of course it is, Mr. Huge Hands.

Seconds later, the ball soars through the air and banks to the left, but with a jump, you catch it just in time.

“What the hell was that?” you laugh, holding up your hands.

“Erm, ‘m warmin’ up? Y’know, gotta get the old righty back in ‘s place,” he insists, stretching his dominant arm this way and that, ever so dramatically.

“Whatever. You’re full of shit, Harry,” you call back, adding extra volume to your voice. His bottom lip escapes to between his teeth while his head goes from side to side. You surprise him with your throw and he misses it, pulling a loud laugh from your lips. “Not so confident, are we now?”

“Shuddup! Ya were a bloody softball player, ya got advantage ova me, ‘s not fair.”

“Don’t you start whining now! You’re the one who wanted to play catch with a five time-.”

“Ya ya, we get tha point, babe. Yer a bloody star when it comes t’ softball. I know, I know. Wish I coulda seen ya play, woulda been fun. Ya should join a summer league, they sound like a hoot,” he comments, locating the ball at last back in the woods and landing it in your glove.

“And I played with my brother all of the time, and he was M.V.P two years in a row on his high school baseball team.”

“Good fer him, maybe he should be out here playin’ with you, instead,” Harry says when your throw to him sails over his head. “God, can ya control that arm o’ yers fer once?”

“Sorry!” you laugh, knowing that he doesn’t believe it for a second.

“Sure ya are.”

The ball arrives in your mitt with a pleasing whap! and your hand settles over it. Brushing your fingers along the coarse stitches, the shocks of green grass stains on the leather welcome you back to your childhood, tossing around this very same ball with your older brother and father. The nostalgia brings your hand to your pocket, and your fingers soon tap the screen of your phone.

“C’mon, slow poke! What’re ya waitin’ fer? ‘Fraid ‘ll beat ya afta all?” Harry quips from across the yard, nearing you to retrieve his beer that he sips from. With a pleased ‘ahhhh,’ he sets it down on the gray cinder blocks of the nearby fire pit after walking back, placing enough space between him and it so he doesn’t run into it.

Sliding your phone back into your pocket, music soon pours from the large bluetooth speaker in between you against the garage.

“‘s this just fantasy? Caught inn’a landslide, no escape from realityyyyyy. Open yer eyes, look up t’ tha skies, and seeeeee,” Harry sings loudly, pumping his arms down at his sides and closing his eyes adamantly. “‘m just a poor boy, I need no sympathy. Because ‘m easy come, easy go, li’l high, li’l low.”

“Any way the wind blows, doesn’t really matter to meeeeee,” you sing back, savoring the large smile painting his face as he catches your throw with ease.

“Toooo meeee,” he sings back. “Mamaaaaaa just killed a man, put a gun against his head. Pulled my trigger, now’s he dead. Mamaaaaa, life had just begunnnn. But now ‘ve gone and thrown it all awayyyyy,” he sings to the baby blue skies dotted with clouds, adamantly strumming an invisible guitar. He echoes your laugh that flies between the two of you, joining the robins and starlings flitting between the trees. “Knew I picked a good one, she’s got a good arm and a bloody good taste in music. Ya betta play Take On Me next, or all bets are off.”

“Oh, you know that I will. It feels like an eighties night, playing catch in the backyard during the summer. It’s just like when I was little,” you note aloud, jogging to the right to catch his next throw until it falls into your glove.

“‘Bout tha same fer me, just with footy, think this ‘s how ‘d like t’ spend my summers still . . I loved it so much, playin’ in tha backyard listenin’ t’ tha radio, and think my kids would too,” he says casually, sparking a blush in your cheeks at the mention of him as a father. Oh, what you would do to be able to see him playing catch with a little dark-haired boy or girl who calls him ‘Daddy.’

Fuck me, you think hastily.

Quickly, your shared favorite part of the song comes and he imitates the guitar shredding while you repeatedly toss the ball into your mitt, watching him.

“But eva since I watched Wayne’s World as a kid, I can’t avoid bangin’ my head when it gets t’ this part,” Harry chuckles, tossing a pop fly towards the overhang of tree branches. “I love tha trees here, ya know, ‘ve neva seen so many.”

“Me too, I love that part in the movie, and I love them too. It’s crazy to think how long they’ve been around to get this big. Some of them were as tall as I am now when I was little.”

“Huh,” he hums curiously, shooting into the air to grab a high one you tried to trick him with. Your eyes can’t help but wander to his dark fern tattoos that peek out when his shirt rises. “Ya think I should keep it still, or get rid o’ it?” Harry poses to you, puckering his lips at you with a mischievous grin.

“You almost remind me of Freddie Mercury with that ‘stache,” you say, the laugh growing from somewhere deep inside of you. He shrugs his shoulders and tosses a fast one back to you, hitting your glove square in the center with a heavy slap!

“Dunno why ya think that’s such a good joke, ‘s a damn compliment, if ya ask me.”

“Uh oh, are we getting a big head over there because you’ve caught my last three throws?” you joke, watching the ball soar high into the air amongst the green covering of the trees.

“Hey, be easy on me,” he pouts, his words disagreeing with his actions that send a hot fastball into your palm.

“Why? You’re never easy on me when we play Mario Kart or Cribbage.”

“Hey! You don’t have a bleedin’ nearly professional career in any o’ those!” he protests and then curses when your curveball nicks the tip of his glove.

“So, and neither do you, and you’re still aggressive as fuck when we play them! Huh, what’s your excuse, Harry?”

“Galileo!” he calls out.

“Galileo!” you echo, and the rest follow suit between the two of you as the song plays.

“‘m just a poor boyyyyy, nobody loves me,” he sings loudly, causing you to cough on your drink that you take a swig from.

“Keep telling yourself that,” you shoot back, setting down the wet can as he approaches you.

“But I am,” he whines, pushing out his bottom lip that you flick with your finger.

“Watch it!”

“Or what?” you counter, savoring the annoyed expression that soon fills his features. There’s just something about pushing his buttons that gets you going, even though you know that you shouldn’t do it.

“Or else I won’t bloody learn tha rest o’ Blackbird on guitar fer you,” he retorts playfully, taking a long pull from his bottle.

Now, it’s your turn to shout ‘hey!’ until he scoops you into his arms, your surprised shriek piercing the sky.

“You better finish learning it! But, I think that I like Freddie better.”

“How? Paul ‘s far betta. ‘ll always love Queen, and The Beatles don’t have anythin’ on Bohemian Rhapsody, but Paul ‘s tha betta musician. Trust me, I should know,” he disagrees, pecking your temple before pulling away and tossing the ball into your waiting glove.

“But, Freddie had a four octave range.”

“And? So does Paul,” Harry shrugs, raising his left arm in the air to snag your fastpitch that he almost loses. “Paul McCartney ‘s tha superior musician, just trust me on this.”

“Paul McCartney has nothing on Freddie Mercury,” a voice pipes up, turning the both of your heads to the right where you find your dad stepping out of the garage with a weathered black baseball glove snug upon his right hand.

You swear that you could hear Harry’s apprehensive gulp from all of the way over here, and when you look, you find his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“But Paul was betta on guitar, bass, and drums,” Harry argues, nervously tossing the ball into his glove repeatedly.

Your dad closes the door behind him softly, and steps out on the grass, adjusting his glasses. Surprise is absent from your range of emotions when your dad shrugs his shoulders, but you’re sure that it coats Harry’s insides in the next few moments.

“You’re right there, I like somebody who can stand up for their argument,” he comments, nodding a head towards Harry who out of the corner of your eye is smiling, just the slightest. “I think I might like this one,” he says to you, holding out his glove towards Harry, with his lips curling into his cheeks.

The smile on your boyfriend’s face almost matches that of your father’s, but he’s got nothing on the grin plastered across Harry’s face because of your next words.

“I think I do, too, Dad.”

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cloveroctobers · 4 years ago

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ROBERT “BOBBY” MCKENZIE —

IG info/bio : @/returnofdamckenzie | 426k followers | @/mclitgs2 is my forever boo🤟🏽😍 while @/cardib is my WIFE! She just doesn’t know it yet ❤️ support my work & be part of my family: @/bobbymckcares

24 (25) years young

Born in Dundee, raised in Glasgow, Scotland

Jamaican father named Badrick who is a African studies professor

Caucasian/Scottish mother named Catriona who used to be a au pair but now works as a receptionist in senior living — one eye is honey hazel and the other a dark brown

It was difficult growing up in a school that didn’t accept Bobby being biracial, it resulted in bullying to the point where he needed to switch schools (A lawsuit was also in place) The next school was slightly better but Bobby slowly learned to accept himself as it was not something he could control and not something he would want to in the first place. He was proud of where he came from and never thought he was better or less than anyone else, that wasn’t how he was raised

He’s an only child, his parents thought about adopting (and fostering) but with Bobby they had their hands full and he was just enough for them

His family is very family-oriented so he would never have to feel lonely since they gave him a lot of attention, slightly making him spoiled but he was also around his cousins & spending time with them as well

He’s extremely close to his younger cousin (only by a few months) Femi who he views as his sister. They’ve been through a lot together and are always there for each other so it only makes sense

Most likely an active kid always up to some sort of shenanigans whether it’s by himself or with his group of friends, “why would you do that Bobby?” “Don’t ask why but ask, why not!?”

Definitely suffered some broken bones, concussions, & sprain injuries but would never show signs of pain...guys got a high pain tolerance that’s for sure

Fan of films/series “stand by me” & “the goonies” & “scooby doo” since he feels they relate to his life??

Hospital caterer and loves making those feel better with food that he’s created. If he can’t put a smile on patients face with words then he feels like he can show them with food

Food is an art to him. He went to school for culinary & it’s very important for him to show how much it is to him. He picked up the craft from of course his family, who always used food for numerous of things: to bring people together is one of them

Perfected Jerk haggis, it is now he favorite dish next to desert & breakfast!

I’m struggling to figure out what sign he maybe? He’s very playful which may come off as childish at times, which makes me think of Leo? (Maybe Gemini?) Only because they usually hold onto their childhood as best as they can, very generous, & give their energy to you but I also don’t see him being a fire sign at all? So maybe very little Leo in his chart. I also feel like he might be a bit of an empath? He knows when situations around him don’t feel right, knows how to read the room, and always wants to help others by lighting things up.

Idk but I’m feeling he’s libra sun + Gemini moon + Leo rising? Who knows

Probably lived in a 2 bed flat with his old uni mate. It was small and a bit shit but it was their shit and they made the best of it

Now lives in a stone cottage or farmhouse with MC that was built in the 1900’s & is slightly haunted. He’s decided to call them Duncan??? But he believes they’re a good spirit, maybe even a friendly ghost!? since he got comfortable with the bizarre happenings in the new flat & it doesn’t seem like they want to hurt them

Lottie offered to bring her ouija board next time she visited—Bobby declined

House is mostly neutral based but three of the rooms in the flat are covered in ridiculous patterned walls or furniture much to MC’s distaste but, “what’s yours is mine” right? No. But Gary approves!

Has two dogs: a terrier & a collie since MC wasn’t down for getting a sheep

They do have chickens to raise their own eggs tho!

Definitely the kind of significant other that will ride on the cart when they’re out grocery shopping, will make you breakfast in bed, & will send you memes while he’s at home and you’re out or even when he’s at work and you’re at home, let’s you put his arm to sleep when you’re laying on it in bed (big ass head gang!), definitely chooses the candles from bath & body works that smell like food items (majority of them suck let’s be honest)

Probably smells like cucumber, melons, lemons, and eucalyptus

Has your wedding date in his IG bio & is proud

Annoys Gary & Lottie with his food pics, “oh, Not this shit again! 😡 looks brilliant, but enough!”

Has zoom/FaceTime movie nights with Marisol & MC who stopped feeling like she was third-wheeling months ago

Talks to hope & Noah (in the background) as much as he can. Feels like they’re his inspiration for love, even tho he’s the only one married out of the villa

He values marriage just like his parents do and often has Sunday dinners with them & MC ofc

Probably has relationship guide books and only reads them out of boredom but finds fascinating facts/advice if he pays attention & tries to apply it to his relationship with mc. If it works, it works! & If it doesn’t, you can’t say he didn’t try!

Works long hours but will still come home to cook for MC or brings leftovers from the events he’s catered (most are for the hospital but occasionally he’ll do other events)

Has a separate IG for his work

When WAP dropped, he almost lost his shit. Even tried to get MC to do the challenge with him, he’s pretty bad but MC eventually learned it just for him 😜

Is thrilled that Cardi made the best decision EVER on divorcing offset, “are you thinking of leaving me now?” “... I might.” “BOBBY!” “Haha, I love you!

Absolutely loves Christmas!!! It’s his favorite holiday and he loves giving back to everyone in his life. Usually he’s working overtime for the holidays & it makes him emotional due to the stories he hears & he puts a little extra love in his food

Goes all out for Christmas. Tries to buy/make everyone something. Even if he doesn’t really care for them...he’ll at least send them a x-mas card, if they keep it or burn it it’s entirely up to them—if he knew about it he’d probably be a little sad not gonna lie...he’s a soft king

Once bought Lottie black crocs with spooky pins , “are you joking Bobby?!” He knows she secretly loved them

Uses salt and peppermint in his dark hot cocoa...

Rather make deserts for Christmas than the food, he feels like it’s his duty

King of giving the thumbs up, especially when situations have gone to shit. He’ll still shoot them up with a smile or a grimace

Always inviting someone somewhere. “Bobby, hun. You’re 4-6 hrs away and it’s 1 am.” Hope groaned after listening to his bright idea, thinking something bad happened. “Ah, you could still make it if you tried, lassie.” “I’m gonna hang up now. Good night, bonkers man.”

Needs constant reminding when to get his locs touched up & moisturized

Either has a trampoline or a funhouse jumper in his backyard (maybe both) “we’ve got the space and this is better than a pool, or almost!”

Wants children, a whole footie team! There’s no specific time frame for him, when it happens, it happens

Used to cool & wet temps & loves vacationing in Greenland. Sure the hot weather he experienced in the villa was awesome & something different than what he’s used to but you can’t take the scot out of the man. So he typically sticks to places that are similar in temps, that way he doesn’t have to change his clothing choices much

Loves a good bath. Bubble baths are better than bath bombs to him, PERIOD!

Loves bubbles so much he put too much laundry detergent in the wash (does this on purpose now) and came back home to the dogs and room covered in it. Do you think he cleaned it up before MC came home? No. He decided to have a bubble party in the room with a Caribbean playlist playing in the background

MC definitely posted about it the first time & joined him for a bit, dreading the work that came with cleaning it all up. Now whenever Bobby needs a bubble party, he knows what to do. MC preferred him to have his little bubble party in the tub but 50% of the time he chooses not to listen & they leave him to pout & clean it himself

Likes to hold hands with fingers interlocked. When it’s cold and if you’re both wearing hoodies, he’ll slide his hand inside the arm of your hoodie to help keep you warm

Canon: His version of a snack is spaghetti hoops on toast & can eat that for the rest of his life & be content

If he didn’t end up marrying MC, probably finds his significant other working as a nurse at one of the hospitals he caters to or a volunteer at a old folks home

Never had a serious relationship, very few hookups, was either always placed in the friend zone or there was one person he wanted to be serious with but they rejected him and continued loving someone else who treated them like shit—so he kinda swore off of relationships and just flirted a bunch and kept his love life non-existent

Fav ice cream? Rocky road ice cream with one scoop of cotton candy & one scoop of cookie butter blue

Doesn’t believe in measuring when it comes to culinary. He uses his eyes as his measurement, could be a bad thing, could be a good thing, that’s up to you

If he’s up at night, he’s eating something sweet. A nice glass of single malt scotch whiskey + a splash of coconut milk (🤢) with a slice of angel food cake & he’s out like a light

Absolutely loves shopping for the kitchen, finds immense joy in doing so. If you lose him in a store, one of the places you’ll most likely find him is in the kitchen decor area

Owns a bagpipe & wants to get better at it, even tho he scared the living shit out of his dogs & chickens

Wears his shades quite a bit even tho the weather is hardly sunny and mainly windy & damp

Will hold the door for strangers even if they don’t say thank you

He’s open when it comes to music. Will listen to anything but feels like the music has to be a purpose for something...Everything he does in his day to day life has to feel like a soundtrack to him since in his mind he’s daydreaming about his life being made into a movie. Who isn’t?

He thinks wentworth Miller should play him in a film and that kid from blackish should play him when he was a wee lad, Marcus Scribner

Always keeps a positive attitude because he knows what it feels like to feel low and he doesn’t want anybody else in the world to feel like that so he wants to uplift and if he can try to be someone’s happiness he’ll gladly be that— which isn’t always the right move, he learned

Listens to: Rotimi, Shaggy, Sean Paul, Skip Marley, H.E.R., Jhene Aiko, Jorja Smith, UMI, The Kooks, The Killers, Cold War kids, Milky chance, Blood Orange, The 1975, Vampire Weekend, Bad Suns, BRYSON TILLER, Kilo Kish, & Ella Eyre (although he misses her old music)

Celeb crushes? Cardi B is his mfkin celeb wife okay?! Nobody else comes above her! He also thinks FKA twigs is pretty & super talented, sevdaliza!, Tia & Tamera, Iman, and brandy from the 90s makes him swoon

Anthem = jaden, “Boys and Girls”

#litg #litg s2 #litg2 #litg Bobby #litg au #litg headcanon #litg headcanons #litg gary #litg lottie #litg marisol #litg mc #litg hope #you asked and you shall receive

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starsrshiney · 3 years ago

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Because Crossover Brain refuses to shut up

Miraculous Ladybug x SKET Dance crossover.

Miracu-class aged up to High School age. Purely because the SKET-dan are 16/17, so they can actually interact.

The SKET-dan get "chosen" to do an exchange trip to France. Why? Because the student council was tired of Tsubaki's rants about them/Bossun, so Agata got Mimori to pay whoever was needed to get the SKET-dan out of the school for a while.

Was France overkill? Yes, but Overkill with Money is basically Mimori's name.

(Also this sets where the story is in SKET dance canon- sometime before Agata and Michiru graduate, and probably before or JUST after Happy Rebirthday/ discovery of Bossun and Tsubaki being twins.

Where would this be set in Miraculous canon, ignoring the age up? idk, before Miracle Queen? Mostly saying that because I only know season 4 through tumblr posts and not episodes themselves.)

Unfortunately, despite the amount of thought that went into getting them together, the actual ideas once the SKET-dan get there are less developed. I mean, this is a crossover between a villain-of-the-day superhero show and problem-of-the-day slice-of-life/shonen show.

Idea 1: Switch vs Lila

Idea 2: Himeko vs Lila

Idea 3: Himeko vs Hawkmoth

Idea 4: Bossun vs Akumas (butterflies)/Hawkmoth

Idea 5: Bossun vs Lila

Idea 6: Switch vs Hawkmoth

Idea 7: Bossun avoids getting akumatized because ????

Idea 8: SKET-dan helps people in Mari's stead.

Idea 9: Chuu-sensei's potions vs The Miracu-Class

Idea 10:Roman in Paris! Otome Filter~

Idea 1: Max admires the speech program Switch uses. Lila tries to claim to know the program's creator. The SKETs, knowing that Switch's Dead Younger Brother made the program, don't like hearing this. Lila gets chewed out by the guy who never actually uses his voice. (Himeko and Bossun are being held back in the background, because how dare this girl hit Switch's trauma switch?)

Idea 2: Lila tries to threaten Himeko the same way she threatened Marinette. Unfortunately for her, Himeko is NOT Marinette. Therefore, Lila finds herself running away from the business end of the Onihime's hockey stick/Flagrance.

Lila: You can't hurt me, I'm an ambassador's daughter!

Himeko: You think I give a damn about politics?!

Lila: *does not know how to deal with a non-akumatized violent person*

Idea 3: Moving away from Lila bashing, Hawkmoth tries to Akumatize Himeko. Himeko, however, can NEVER suppress her Tsukkomi instincts, and proceeds to point out everything stupid about the Akumatizing situation.

Himeko: Seriously, you infect people with evil butterflies and get them to steal jewelry from superheroes! I mean, I can kinda see taking a ring, that's like one second to slip of a finger, but EARRINGS? Those don't come off easy!

LB/CN: *drops in while Himeko is in the middle of a rant*

Himeko: And THESE are the heroes you want me to fight? The girl's wearing footie pajamas and the guy looks like he should be in a leather club! What, are you dressed as badly as these two?!

LB/CN: *chokes on air*

Hawkmoth: *three types of tired at this point* I'll have you know I'm wearing a three piece suit-

Himeko: A THREE PIECE SUIT? What, is there a formal ball for supervillians you need to attend to?

Alya: *taking a break from recording* Hey, if you want to critique fashion choices *shows a collage of akumatized villans*

Himeko: THESE ALL LOOK LIKE REJECTS FROM ONE OF BOSSUN'S SUPERHERO SHOWS! Are you seriously trying to turn me into one of those?!

Idea 4: Bossun slingshotting Akumas in flight. Bossun doesn't get akumatized instead because the akumas/Hawkmoth never see it coming, so they can't phase into the pachinko ball when it hits.

Idea 5: We're back to Lila things. She tries to engineer another situation that makes her look good/ Marinette or the SKETs look bad. Bossun slips into Concentration Mode and finds/points out an inconsistency that Lila created and can't lie herself out of.

Idea 5.1- since idea 5 is about Bossun vs Lila. Lila can't get a read on him- I mean, most of the time he's an idiot with no sense of tact/ delicacy and a goody-good like Marinette that can't help but help. But every once in a while he reveals that he can remember and analyze every little sound he hears. And the other two transfers won't hear a bad word about him from her (she nearly gets hockey stick'd trying to badmouth Bossun to Himeko) so she can't really meaningfully isolate him.

Idea 6: Actually, Switch should get a chance at irritating Hawkmoth. Let's have him be the first that tries to get akumatized, only for him to fight Hawkmoth the entire time because "magic has not been scientifically proven to exist." Switch treats the whole thing like another argument with Reiko.

Idea 6.1: Okay wait, The Mime showed that akumatized people don't have to verbally agree to the akumatization, but Switch doesn't speak. He uses his laptop/speech program. Switch yelling about the illogicalness of magic through his laptop and Hawkmoth not hearing it.

Idea 7:

Himeko: Okay, why hasn't mister evil butterfly attempted to turn you evil? You're not exactly mr sunshine yourself!

Bossun: How the heck should I know?!

(Its because his anger is flash-in-the-pan like and too quick for Hawkmoth to actually timely akumatize)

Idea 7.1: Okay, really the only way I see Bossun being angry enough for akumatization is for him to be in a long-standing argument and not dragged away from it. So Bossun vs Lila because he's really not here for her BS and Himeko/Switch aren't here for it either. They argue long enough for an akuma to fly in, but it gets pointed out before it gets to Bossun.

Bossun's emotions go quickly from 'angry' to 'oh no' so it still can't get him. The akuma starts to switch targets. Lila reaches for the akuma, thinking she can get away with it.

And we're back to idea 4, but with possible bonus Bossun slingshotting Lila's hand.

Idea 8: The SKETs catch how stressed Marinette is, and the next time someone asks her for help they offer to do the task instead. I mean, they are the Support, Kindness, Encouragement, and Troubleshooting club.

Whoever was asking for help: I don't think I've ever seen this much chaos outside an akuma attack. Are you sure you three aren't a trio of akumas?

Idea 9: The SKETs, somehow, have some of Chuu-sensei's potions with them. Cue some of Bustier's class suddenly become ten years younger, ten years older, or having hair down to their ankles. LB/CN purposefully drink the invisibility potion during an akuma attack, and because their suits are magic they go invisible as well.

Bossun: LUCKY!

Himeko: Don't mind him. The potion doesn't normally make clothes invisible and at one point this idiot thought it'd be funny to leave his clothes behind while trying to scare me.

Idea 10: "My prince~" "ROMAN HOW DID YOU GET TO FRANCE?!" (This is never explained. Roman defies explanations.)

Idea 10.1: Akumatized Roman. Paris gets drowned in her Otome Filter.

LB: Chat, I think I need to get a Miraculous for one of those students. *points at the SKETs*

CN: Why them?

LB: They're the only ones that can actually figure out what's going on in this filter land- like they're used to it.

#fanfic ideas I'll never actually write #crossover brain

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blacksurvivalnostalgichanges · 3 years ago

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immortal soul:black survival characters as dankpods

Adela:You’ve had a kitkat, right? But you haven’t lived until you’ve had a WW.

Adriana:Well, I guess we should plug it in and put Scarlet Fire on it.

Aiden:Oh, they’ve got Ninja- oh, sorry. Ninj a up.

Alex: (throws a batman mp3 player at a vaccum) Oh no! It broke on the first one! Wasn’t even a good throw, mate!

Arda:(touching the eye button repeatedly, text on the screen reading “MY EXISTENCE IS SUFFERING”)

Aya:(plugging a spongebob eye mp3 player into a speaker) Don’t you hurt her. Don’t you do it.

Barbara:(jiggles cheap headphones like castanets on a wire)

Bernice:It’s like.... Dad’s footy shorts... Cut into a case.

Camilo:My IPod’s trapped in the disco!

Cathy:”Do not overuse this earphone or put it under heavy pressure.” (holding a big rock) Hmmm.... I wonder what heavy pressure means?

Celine:Come on pukcells, you’re needed! Eh? I don’t just keep you around because of the name that I find funny for some reason.

Chiara:Is it any wonder no one bought you?

Chloe:This says “sound by AKG”! Why does it sound like it was made by OkayG?

Daniel:What an unusual perspective of this thing you have right now.

Echion:Chord, hit me up mate, I wanna try Hugo. Mainly because it’s called a Hugo.

Eleven: Oh, New Potato Technologies! How I love that you’re called New Potato Technologies!

Eva:I need instructions on how to take it apart, but it’s just like USE ANTI-GRAVITY AND JUST MAKE IT HAPPEN ON ITS OWN!

Emma:Warning:you’ve just wasted your money.

Fiora:I remember when Ipods had a quartered pizza for controls.

Hart:And we all know his theme song! Duhhh dabaruba di di daaa.... batmannn

Hyejin:(voice cracking) Oh, isn’t it- isn’t it lovely....

Hyunwoo:(stabbing plastic box) Give me my dog!

Isol(handling earphones through the Mojo) Ahahaha! It’s happened, everyone. Notice that awful buzzing stopped? The left one died. It’s gone.

Jackie: ‘Please keep away from children’? Keep away from everyone.

Jan:Has he morphed with his pants?

Jenny:(putting the earphones away) Yeah, okay. All right. All right. Yep. Now they work. Oh yeah. Oh yeah they work. Oh boy do they. So.

Johann: Look, it stands up for... reasons unknown to me, to be honest.

JP:(putting a headphone jack that was described as being for IPods into a Samsung Yepp) Haha, no one tell the police! Ooooooo!

Laura:(turns on a tablet with a shrek background, enters a photos app, and scrolls through superman, wonder woman, a bad wolverine cosplay, fat spiderman smoking sitting on the curb, and mike wazowski) Superheroes.

Lenox:Yeah, direct me there. How do I get from Adelaide to the middle of the ocean? Whaaat, I can’t cycle from there?!

Leon: “I appreciate those headphones you bought me, especially since it’s the only thing you’ve ever bought me” “That is true, I even made you buy your own clothes after birth”

Li Dailin:I mean, I really like it. It’s a piece of junk.

Luke: Oh no, it requires two AAAAAs!

Magnus:Racing attack? That’s just called traffic.

Mai:You can still buy... flip phones!!

Nadine: I don’t remember ducks having docks in their bellies!

Nathapon: ⁿᵃ ⁿᵒ

Nicky:(holding an MP3 player) It got karate-chopped at some point, i don’t remember that, I’m so sorry theo.

Rio:I bought a Dell MP3 dingus. [...] And only upon getting it did I realize the previous owner scribbled “iPod” on it. It’s like always being in the shadow of your older cousin or something.

Rosalio:Well, there’s only one way to know if it’s a real Nokia, mate. (uses the corner of one phone to hit the other’s screen, shattering it) The answer is no, mate.

Rozzi: (pointing at packaging) It includes everything you need! There’s no oxygen or food written there, so you know.

Shoichi: So you’re meant to “look after” it, and touch it and interact with it, otherwise it “gets mad” and does a bad job at your atxes or something. I don’t know, I’m just- I’m an adult now, so all I can think of is adult scenarios.

Silvia:(sniffs) Smells like the early 2000s.

Sissela: Ughh, this is hard to do while crippled.

Sua:(using Youtube on a flip phone) How do I search??

William:Silly box is wrong, mate. Americans don’t talk in metric, it should say “over 500 feet of music”.

Xiukai:Tutorial? Pfft. Like I need to learn how to play Crazy Eggs.

Yuki:It looks like a witch’s curse! Like they turned your best friend into a talisman that you have to wear all the time! You still hear him screaming in there!

Zahir:(uses a photo translator app to understand the text on a box) Oh good! Oh good- oh, there it is! So it’s tac 16, optopannahéhu, E! Cuhtepeodohyeckue.

#god whenever there's a new guy i need to add to this list i forget the alphabet #immortal soul incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #eternal return incorrect quotes #happy season start! good luck with early season hell! i know you all will need it!#realized they DID do that in time as expected once i tried to queue and it said server maintenance would start soon

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raysofcrosby · 5 years ago

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LITTLE DO YOU KNOW PT. 10

"𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦." ━ 𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧 𝐟𝐭. 𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐭, 𝐈 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫

gif credit (x)

series masterlist

requested: yes | no

warnings: just angst tbh

word count: 5,850 [again of un proofread material sorry lmao]

authors note: [quick sidenote: if you want to make this sad af, then listen to heal by tom odell here bc that’s what i did when writing lmao.] omg yay part 10 finally! when this posts i’ll still be at work, but i’m so happy that i was able to get this out to you guys today! this series is coming to an end soon and honestly i’m sad about it bc idk what the hell i’m gonna do once it’s over lmao. for everyone who reblogs, likes and even reads this series– thank you from the bottom of my heart. i enjoy reading everyone’s tags and messages and it makes me happy and want to write even more when i see how much you guys enjoy the series. i hope this part is good enough bc part 11 is coming up and well...we’ll see what happens :)

Two days after the incident in the training room, finals week had wrapped up, Kennedy had already gone home to celebrate an early Christmas with her parents before joining you in Victoria, campus closed down and you had found yourself displaced. Originally, pre-Typocalypse...you were supposed to stay with Jamie and Katie, then all fly back together after the game tonight. But those plans had since changed since Jamie was obviously still not talking to you. Kennedy offered you to come and stay with her, but you were already stealing her for Christmas, you didn't want to intrude on the few days her and her parents got to spend together for the Holidays. Before you could even think about booking a hotel for the next few days, Big Rig offered you his guest room and the two of you have been temporary roommates ever since.

It was a great set up, honestly. Since you were still obligated to be at team practices, the two of you drove there together and left afterward. He was like the big shield that protected you from Jamie's glares and Tyler's horrible attempts at trying to please Jamie by not looking at you. When they went on their Florida series, Dave offered you a chance to go since you were on break, but you turned it down and made a joke about how if you went to Florida you might not come back. Instead, you relaxed on Big Rig's couch, thought about going to see Tyler's dogs and switched between binging 'You' and 'Fuller House' on Netflix.

But today was the day that you would be handing John the paperwork for your internship that he needed to sign and handover. Just things saying that your timesheet was correct, signing off and typing up a letter about how you did. The practice before they left for Florida, actually the same day he had offered you a spot on the trip, was when you broke the news to him that you wouldn't finish out the season with them. Of course, he probably had some kind of inkling as to the reasons why. You always thought that girls were the worst when it came to gossip, but it turns out grown men are a lot worse. But he was kind and never asked for the specifics and respected your decision not to continue and just told you to give him the paperwork whenever you could and that he'd fill it out for you. He also commented on how good of a job you did and that if you ever changed your mind, they'd welcome you back without a second thought.

And that's what you told Katie when the two of you went out to an early dinner before heading to the arena for the game. But now, as the two of you were in your uber and headed towards the arena, the daunting task of having to actually hand over your paperwork weighed heavy on your heart. Katie had invited you along to dinner and you thought that it was probably her way of reaching out to you since your brother was failing to do so, but you didn't mind. You really liked Katie and she was like the other big sister you never had. To your surprise though, the two of you didn't talk much about what had happened between you, Tyler and Jamie. Instead, she focused on your senior year, where you were applying to jobs and how life in L.A. had been treating her.

But now you were itching to get her opinion on the matter, because if there was anyone besides you who was closer to Jamie in this city and had the insight of his thoughts– it was her. When the two of you stepped out of the Uber and made your way through security to get to the back hallway, you broke the silence on the matter.

"Did you know?" You blurted out as the two of you bypassed security. She turned to you with a generic expression. "Did you know before he...found out?"

"I mean, I kind of had a feeling something was going on," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "Just even during the few times I was down here and we all went downtown. The two of you had never really been as close or hung out too often before and I just noticed all of the little things that boys are too oblivious to see."

"Yeah, maybe going out together was a bad idea. Maybe this whole damn thing was a bad idea," you sighed, clutching the manilla folder close to you.

"I don't think it was a bad idea, I just think that you and Tyler approached it wrong. You guys should've been a little more upfront and honest with Jamie. He still might have been angry, but it would have been a lot better than the alternative."

You nodded, accepting her cold truth as the two of you made your way through the parking garage and towards the hallway entrance. "Has he reached out to you yet?"

"Jamie or Tyler?"

"Both, I guess."

You shook your head, pushing back the pain that came with the thought of the two guys you cared for most, ignoring you. "Not even an in-person acknowledgment."

"I've been talking to them both, trying to get them to see the sense of it all. I told Jamie he needs to talk to you before this gets any worse...but you know how he is."

"Yeah, I do," you nodded, opening the door and stepping into the hallway. You looked down the right towards the training room and took a deep breath. "Well, I guess this is it."

"I can come with you if you want? Give you a little moral support?"

"Thanks, but I need to do this on my own," you took a deep breath and nodded, giving yourself a little encouragement. "I'll see you at home in a few hours?"

"Longest plane ride of our lives," she joked, hugging you before turning towards the elevator. "Oh, one more thing about you and Tyler!"

"Yeah?" You asked, giving her a hopeful, but sad look.

"It wasn't just the physical things I noticed, like the small touches." She shrugged her shoulders and gave you a small smile. "But it was just how different the two of you seemed. You were a lot happier and open and Tyler...he was a lot calmer and genuinely happy. I think the two of you are very good together."

You didn't know what to say, but instead gave her a thankful smile and watched her get into the elevator to head up to the upper level. It hurt your heart, to think about how your relationship had changed the two of you for the better and yet here you guys were– avoiding each other at all costs. You brushed those thoughts aside and walked down the hallway. You needed to give Dave your paperwork, but there was something else you needed to do first.

You knocked on to the locker room door, hearing a voice on the other side. You covered your eyes with one hand and pushed the door open, stepping into the room. "Is everyone in here decent?"

"It's just me and Dobby, Y/N," Klinger said, laughing. "So yes, open your eyes."

You uncovered your eyes to see the two men sitting in their respectful stalls. "Where's everyone else?"

"Training room, on the bench or playing footy," Dobby said, standing up. "You okay?"

You nodded, walking over towards Big Rig's stall and holding up your purse. "Big Rig just asked me to bring something for him, he forgot it at the apartment."

They nodded and Dobby walked out of the door, Klinger stopping while holding it open. "Do you think you can tape me today?"

You felt a crushing feeling inside of you because he had no clue that you weren't here to work...but instead to quit. "If no one's busy." You smiled, as he nodded in reply before leaving the locker room.

You took a deep breath and sighed before walking away from Big Rig's stall and over to Tyler's. You dug into your purse and pulled out his house key, which was attached to the '#1 labrador mom' keychain he had given you, and placed it right in the middle of his stall. You've been meaning to give it back to him since everything crumbled, but you just haven't had the courage to face him since the day of he and Jamie's explosion. Plus, you were flying home to Victoria tonight and there would be no better time than the present to give him back the gift. Now, you had to do the one thing that you came here for– turn in your hour sheet, along with some other internship paperwork, to John. You had talked to him earlier in the week about deciding not to finish out the season, and you had to admit that you felt honored that he was upset that you were choosing not to continue. For the first time in a while, it made you feel like you had accomplished something here and that your work was appreciated. But the hardest part wasn't telling him that you were quitting, it was turning in your paperwork for him.

You stood outside of the training room door, contemplating whether or not to call Katie and tell her that you had changed your mind, that you'd love for her to walk into the room with you so you could walk right back out. But then you thought back on all of your conversations with Big Rig since Kennedy left and how, in her absence, he's been more than willing to lend an ear and even give you some advice and boost up your confidence. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling and then opening your eyes again. "I can do this." You gave yourself a few more seconds before bringing your shoulders back, lifting your chin and pushing the door open, walking into the training room like you owned the place.

"Y/N!" Pavs cheered, throwing his fists into the air. "You're finally here! I've been waiting for you to come and tape my ankle for me, for like...ever!"

"Sorry for being late," you replied, looking immediately in John's direction to see him walking over to his desk. "I just need to–"

"And you're out of your uniform?" Dickinson scoffed, walking by you. "What are they teaching you at this fancy college?"

"Yeah Y/N, you're not on winter break yet. No, relax!" Rads chimed in as the rest of the guys just laughed.

You rolled your eyes at their chirping but kept the smile on your face because you were glad that things seemed to have rolled over when it came down to the tension whenever you, Tyler and Jamie were all in the same room. This was ringing true because the three of you were in the same room at this very moment. Tyler was sitting down by Big Rig, stealing a resistance band from him to work on his shoulder, while Jamie was lying on a table in front of John's desk, getting his hamstring scraped by Craig. Neither of them looked as tense as they had in the last week, but they still weren't paying any attention to you. Well, you thought they weren't until you caught Tyler looking away from you the moment you went to say something to Big Rig about his bands. He played it off, looking immediately to his right, probably not realizing he'd be staring at a blank wall– but you were over it all, so it didn't bother you one bit.

"Is this the paperwork we talked about?" Dave asked, finally sitting down at his chair and tossing a towel on his desk.

You walked forward with the manilla folder in hand and held it up, giving him a tight-lipped smile. "Yep, this is it. Sorry I couldn't get it to you sooner. It took a while to get together since Finals ended and everything is hectic."

You held it out to him and he grabbed it from you, placing it onto his desk and opening it, skimming through the pages and nodding. "Can I get this to you after you come back from break?"

"Absolutely. There's no need to rush," you looked off to see Big Rig giving you a supportive look. He was the only one in the room besides Dave, that knew just what those papers were for. "Just as long as it's before graduation."

"Y/N!" Miro said, rushing into the room and out of breath. "You're here! Please tape me, you're the only one who can."

"Looks like you're stuck with just Craig and me, Miro," Dave said, closing the folder and standing up from his chair. "You guys must have chased her away. She's finished with her internship and decided not to extend for the full season."

That non-existent tension that you mentioned earlier, sprung it's ugly head back into the room the moment that his announcement left his lips. Both Jamie and Tyler perked up at what Dave had said, both surprised and even had a split moment where they looked at each other. Though of course, they had no clue of your decision, so shock and confusion were along the lines of what you expected them to feel. You made eye contact with Jamie first and you couldn't exactly pinpoint just what he was feeling since three separate emotions ran across his face: shock, disappointment and finally, joy. When you acknowledged him back, he opened his mouth slightly as if he might just say something, but instead bit the inside of his cheek and rested his head back down onto his forearms as Craig continued to scrap him. Tyler on the other hand only had two visible emotions: sad and extremely pissed. And if it wasn't for the fact that his eyes carried hints of sadness, you'd only think he was extremely pissed, seeing as the scowl on his face and his knitted eyebrows were the key symbols of his anger. Rightfully, you were confused at his reaction. How could he even be bothered to be angry about your choice when he hasn't talked to you in nearly two weeks?

Screw him, he has no right to be angry.

You turned your attention away from him and started to make your way back to the training room door. "Well, shit, who the hell is going to deal with my shin problem now?" Big Rig said, clearing out the silence in the room.

Bishop laughed as well a few other guys who were still left in the training room before walking away from your desk and over to you. "You're 27 years old, figure it out, you dweeb!" He came to a stop in front of you and hugged you. "Good luck with the rest of your senior year. I hope you'll still come around."

"Eh, maybe I will," you joked, pulling away from the hug and giving the guys a small wave. "Good luck tonight guys. Someone fight Tkachuk or I'll disown you as my team and switch to the Canucks."

Your joke was followed by multiple groans and mumbles, in reply to your goodbye and to the fact that you were leaving their training room forever. Once the conversation returned to normal, you took that as your time to slip out of the training room unnoticed and back out into the hallway. The moment you stared down the empty hallway, you took a deep breath and felt as if a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders. You, Kennedy and Big Rig had made yourself a checklist of things to do before the year came to an end and you came back from winter break.

The first? Talk to Dave and give him the paperwork to wrap up your internship.

The second? Somehow repair your relationship with Jamie, which has yet to even have an outlined plan.

And the third? ...Close things off with Tyler on a positive note. He was a friend way before he was a hookup and he's your brother's best friend. Just because the two of you had relations, doesn't mean you couldn't still be friends.

You weren't one to lie to yourself. You knew that the last one probably wouldn't happen before the end of the year, if at all. Confronting Tyler was terrifying to you. Sure, you've planned everything that you wanted to say to him– it's been boiling inside of you for days. But there was never a moment that presented itself to where you could get Tyler alone, and you no longer felt comfortable just showing up at his place. So, you just pushed it onto the backburner and knew that somewhere down the road, you'd be able to accept that things would be like this from here on out– avoiding each other and pretending like nothing ever happened.

"Y/N, wait!" Halfway down the hallway, you stopped in your tracks as you listened to the sound of a door closing and shoes scuffing along the floor.

You didn't want to turn around, hell, you didn't even want to stop. But it was like your body turned against you the moment that you heard his voice. His footsteps came to a stop just behind you and you could hear him panting a little, trying to catch his breath. In his hand, you heard the slight jingle of a single key on a lanyard, and your heart squeezed in your chest.

"You can't do this. You can't leave!" The anger in his voice took you by surprise, just like his reaction only moments ago in the training room had. "You can't let me stop you from keeping this internship."

"Excuse me?" You scoffed, whipping around and feeling pure adrenaline running through your veins. "That's awfully narcissistic of you."

He looked taken back as he held tightly onto the lanyard he'd gifted you. "That's why you're leaving, though. Because of...everything?" He took a step towards you, shaking his head. "If it is I–"

Maybe it was the way he had phrased the sentence or maybe it was the way that he had pretty much just written off every moment the two of you had shared in a hesitant state. Whatever it was, you felt a whirl of anger and adrenaline swirling around inside of you as you clenched your fists by your side. "I completed my hours, Tyler, meaning my internship is done. I've fulfilled my duties as an intern here and even if it was about you and 'everything'," you threw your air quotes as you stared at him, your eyes hoping to burn holes into his head. "My position here was never permanent and we both knew that."

You felt slightly proud of yourself for the sly insinuation you threw in at him, and even more so proud when you saw that he understood just what you were implying. "Y/N listen, we need to talk."

Even if you wanted to, you couldn't have prevented the laugh that escaped from your mouth. "You've had almost two weeks to 'talk', Tyler. Two weeks to send me a text or a phone call to meet up someplace! But now that I'm leaving and I'll no longer be around for your convenience, it's the perfect time to talk?"

He stood there silent because he knew damn well that you were right. He had plenty of opportunities in the last two weeks to reach out to you, but he hadn't even bothered to pick up the phone and there was no denying it. You stood there, taking him in and it only made you feel worse. He had a hurt look on his face like he was lost as to what you wanted him to say or to do– and that only made you angrier. It was simple, what you wanted him to do. For the last two weeks, all you've wanted was for him to just talk to you, to let you know that he hadn't tossed you aside like another pointless hookup. But now, all you wanted to do was get everything off of your chest, and it was then that you realized...the universe was granting you the alone time you've desperately wanted.

"You don't get it, do you?" You asked, shaking your head as you felt a knot tighten in your throat. "You don't get how...how embarrassed I am! Do you know how many people told me to avoid getting involved with you? That you'd do nothing but end up hurting me in the end?"

"'He has a reputation for a reason, Y/N!' 'All he does is whore around Dallas, Y/N.' 'You guys are in two different stages of life, it won't work out.'" You laughed again, trying your damndest not to try. "I've heard it all, Tyler. From Kennedy, from your teammates, from kids at my school, hell– I even heard it from my mom!"

You bit the inside of your cheek as you looked off to your left, giving yourself a few seconds to compose your thoughts before looking at him again. "But I brushed their worries aside because I saw a side of you that they never got the chance to. I saw how kind and sweet you were with me. How you'd jump at any opportunity to help me study and how you always made me feel welcome in your home."

"I saw it all and I thought, 'hey, you know what? They're all wrong. He's not that kid in Boston and he's not the same guy he was when he first got to Dallas.'" You pointed at him before letting your hand drop back to your side. "I gave you the benefit of the doubt because I know people can change and with my whole heart, I believed that you had."

He continued to stare at you, almost void of emotion now as if he had put up a wall and was just letting you scream at it, which only made you more upset. "I understand that you could have lost your best friend, I really do. And I'd never ask you to put our, whatever the hell we had, above your friendship with Jamie."

Your bottom lip trembled as you thought about the nights since, where you've checked your phone every minute to see if he had texted you. "But you could have texted me. You could've said 'hey, I just need some space right now to figure stuff out' and I would have been fine with that! Instead, you just...tossed me aside and shut me out."

The more that you spoke, the more weightless you began to feel. It was as if speaking every word and feeling you had saved for Tyler was freeing you of the pain that him dropping you like nothing, had caused. Yet, you couldn't help but feel angry at how he was just standing there. You wanted a reaction, you wanted him to apologize– anything was better than this.

"Say something! Stop standing there and staring at me!" You yelled, feeling surprised at yourself for just how high your voice had gone and echoed off of the walls.

You watched his Adam's apple bob as his fingers tangled and twirled through the lanyard."Jamie and I... we've been talking and I think it's going well."

"Well that's great for you, isn't it?" You scoffed, shaking your head and motioning towards him with a hand. "At least my brother is talking to someone, right? Better you than me, I guess. I'm happy you got your best friend back, I truly am."

The longer you stood there, the more you felt your body begin to shake from the pure adrenaline running through you. And the more that he just stared at you, the more you felt your heart breaking because it was starting to become clear that you were the only one who was hurting from all of this. You laughed in disbelief at your revelation before turning away from him, preparing to walk down the aisle and out of his view.

"Why?" You asked, keeping your back turned. "Why did you do it?"

"...Why did I do, what?"

You turned around, your hair whipping into your face before you brushed it back with your fingers. "Why did you go back to Maisy?" Your voice cracked as you spoke softly, staring at him with the tears that were threatening to spill. "Why did you treat me like I was the most important person to you and then toss me aside like I was just another pointless hookup?"

"Y/N..."

"Did you even care? Wait, no, of course, you didn't and would you like to know how I know that, Tyler?" You stared at him, expecting an answer but knowing you wouldn't get one. "Because you practically rushed me out of your house and into an uber like I was nothing. You couldn't even be bothered to make sure I got home okay! The first sign of trouble and you toss me into an uber, sent me away and then ignored me like every..."

Your voice broke as you brought a hand to your mouth and turned away from him. You took a deep breath, trying to calm down your racing heart before looking back at him. "You ignored me like every moment we spent together meant nothing to you. And m-maybe they did but to me? They're some of the best memories I've had here in Dallas."

"So imagine how it made me feel, when my brother of all people, tells me that she's here...in your seats, not even four days after you had sex with me and tossed me aside." You glared at him as your bottom lip trembled once again. "You made me look like a joke Tyler."

"It wasn't like that, okay? Maisy was just–"

"I don't care what it was like, Tyler! She was here, in seats YOU bought her last season!" You yelled, throwing your arms in the air. "You told me that you guys were over! That you haven't talked to her since July and yet, there she was!"

The moment you felt the first tear glide down your cheek, you knew that you only had moments before you would burst into tears. You went to speak and a small sob escaped from the back of your throat. Tyler went into a small panic, his eyes widening as he stepped forward and reached out for you. "Y/N–"

"Don't," You stepped back, smacking his hand away. "Don't touch me, just...don't." You closed your eyes, focusing on your breathing and collecting your thoughts before opening them and looking at him one last time. "I gave you the benefit of the doubt Tyler, but it turns out everyone was right."

You laughed again, shrugging your shoulders and shaking your head. "You're still that 19-year-old kid in Boston, who doesn't have a clue about what he wants for his life...you're nowhere near the man I thought you were." You looked him dead in the eyes, not caring about the tears running down your face. "Grow up."

With that, you turned your back to him and started to finish your journey down the hall and to the elevator, choosing to ignore how his footsteps followed you. "Y/N, wait...please."

You stopped, this time choosing to and kept your head down towards the ground and holding back your sobs. "SEGGY WHERE ARE YOU? GET DRESSED, WE'VE GOT 5 MINUTES TILL WARM-UPS!" Big Rig called out, his loud voice echoing down the hall.

You expected to hear Tyler's footprints walk in the opposite direction, but you were met with silence. "Y/N, stay after the game, please? I just," he sighed, trying to figure out what to say. "We really need to talk about everything and just...please wait for me after the game? Five minutes, two minutes, one minute– whatever you want, I don't care. Just...please, let me explain?"

"SEGGY LET'S GO!" Rads called out this time, his voice louder as you kept your back to Tyler.

You heard him sigh again before listening to his footsteps run in the direction back towards the locker room. You didn't hesitate to walk as fast as you could to the elevator, letting out every tear and sob your body had held back as he pleaded for a chance to explain. It was all you wanted from him, an explanation, but he was too late. You weren't staying for the game, you were leaving the arena and hopping onto a flight to Victoria in two hours.

You just didn't have the heart to tell him that.

You were grateful for the elevator attendant who stayed silent your entire ride up to the upper level. Before the doors opened, you took a deep breath and wiped your eyes, fixing yourself up before you'd make your way through the crowds and out of the arena. The attendant gave you a friendly smile as you walked out of the elevator. As soon as the doors closed and you made your way through the crowds, you spotted Paisley turning away from the drink cart ahead of you and you were desperate for the crowd to swallow you up before she could witness you in all of your misery.

Unfortunately for you, the universe wasn't so kind because as soon as she looked up from her purse, her eyes locked on yours and she smiled and waved at you. You froze in place, probably bothering the fans trying to make their way around you as you watched in horror, Paisley coming towards you.

"Y/N, hi!" She smiled, just as cheery as the first time you met her, which again, made it so hard to dislike her. "What are you doing up here? I thought you were down in the training room and stuff?"

"How did you know that?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Cole," she scoffed, rolling her eyes before taking a sip of her beer, which was another shock because you took her for a wine kind of girl. "He complained about it and Tyler Seguin and some dude named Big Rig? But I don't understand why because like, your job sounds really cool!"

"Well, it was pretty cool, but I finished up my internship, so I won't be here much longer." You replied, stuffing your hands awkwardly into your sweatshirt pockets.

She looked at you, her eyes taking in your appearance and lingering on your face for much longer than you'd like them to. "Are you okay? You look like you've been crying."

There were a lot of things you wanted to do right now and talking to the girl your boyfriend cheated on you with, was not on the list. But she was being so nice to you and after the horrible moment you just had with Tyler, you needed a little positivity right now. "I kind of just maybe...broke up with someone? I mean we weren't a thing, but we kind of were and it's just...it's a whole hot mess." You sighed, shaking your head and brushing it off. "It doesn't matter anymore."

She gasped, bringing her drink to her chest and grabbing onto your wrist with her free hand as she leaned in. "You broke up with Tyler? But why? You guys seemed so happy whenever I saw you out downtown. Even when I saw you walking around campus, you just looked so...happy."

"It's complicated."

She shook her head, sighing and taking a long sip of her wine. "I guess it is true then, men are shit. College guy or NHL player." She must have seen the shocked look on your face because she shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah, I dumped Cole's ass. Sometime after you left the ABC party. He's just an asshole! And I'm sorry about everything...I never knew and I feel horrible about it."

"It's okay, he really was an asshole." You laughed, feeling a small flutter of happiness rush through you for the first time in what felt like forever. As she joined you in laughter, you dug your phone out of your back pocket and smiled. "What's your number? Maybe we can hang out after break?"

"Oh my God, yes!" She squealed, taking your phone from your hands and bringing her own out. "And I'll add you on snap and Instagram, too! Honestly, you and Kennedy seem like the coolest girls and I've always wanted to be friends with you since freshman year English lit, but we never really had classes together again."

"We can make plans for spring break maybe?" You suggested as the two of you added each other on social media before putting your phones away.

"Yes! We can plan it after break! Maybe you can even introduce me to a cute hockey boy?" She winked, nudging you playfully. "It seems to have worked out for Kennedy well."

You laughed again, nodding your head. "I know a few single guys, we'll see what we can do." You felt your phone vibrating and you brought it back out to see the notification about your uber being ten minutes out. "Oh shoot, I need to go and get my bags before my uber gets here. But I'll text you later?"

"Sure thing!" She nodded before turning to walk away. "Oh, and one more thing!"

"Yeah?"

"Don't count him out just yet, okay? As I said, I saw how he looked at you whenever I saw you guys downtown and if I know boys like I think I do...I'd say that boy loves you. And a boy in love doesn't give up that easily." She smiled and shrugged her shoulders before winking at you. "Just a thought."

You watched her disappear into the crowd, wondering what the hell just happened. When you made your way down the escalators and into the main lobby, you navigated your way towards the front office where Big Rig had asked the staff to hold your bags for you. Sneaking in and then out quickly, you grabbed the Stars 'staff' lanyard around your neck and stuffed it into your sweatshirt pockets before walking out of the arena doors with your luggage in hand and made your way to the spot where you'd meet your uber. As you stood there, waiting for your Uber to arrive, you thought about what she said. Out of curiosity, you brought your phone out of your back pocket again to see a new text on your screen...from Tyler.

'see you after the game?'

You went to reply to tell him the news, but your uber pulled up and you locked your phone and shoved it into your sweatshirt pocket along with the Dallas Stars lanyard.

You were leaving for Victoria, Tyler would go home to Toronto and there would be no waiting for him in the hallway after the game, giving him a chance to explain.

The damage was already done.

#tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin one shot #tyler seguin oneshot #tyler seguin writing #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #nhl one shot #nhl writing #hockey imagine #hockey oneshot #hockey one shot #hockey writing #ldyk fic #my writing

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dutten-does-the-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 8

Title: I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 8 of 14 (ch. 1) Pairing: Isak Valtersen/Even Bech Næsheim Word count: 10.069 Warnings: Language, internalized homophobia, quick mention of blood (nothing serious, by accidentally cutting himself when cooking)

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

Coffee. He needs coffee, right now. Not working on the assignment worth half his credit in cell-biology and genetics until two days before it is due really hasn’t been his best idea. Might even beat the time he figured he could follow all those vodka shots up with a bottle of tequila.

Isak flicks the light switch on when he walks into the kitchen. Magnus’ computer is on the dining table, open, and Isak can’t help himself from gathering potential blackmail on Magnus, so he pulls the chair out and checks what’s already opened before he’ll start snooping.

Except… it’s not just any little old thing Magnus was looking at. The tab open is a movie review about “Circles”, the movie… the movie Even directed.

Once again Næsheim manages to sweep us off our feet and turn our worlds upside down, or should we say ‘spin it around in Circles’ as he’s set to win yet another award for his hard work –

No. Isak hurls himself away from the computer, forgetting entirely about his original intentions. He won’t do this to himself. He still remembers frantically reading everything about Even’s movies and watching them endlessly, and he remembers how much it hurt to think about how Even came up with the idea, his work process, did he push himself too hard, did he remember to eat, how magnificent he did – does with all of his movies. Because it did. Hurt, that is. It felt like his heart was tearing itself into tiny pieces and he didn’t enjoy the feeling, but at least in those moments he felt something.

But he’s better now. Trying to be better. And he won’t read it. He won’t.

He forces himself to look at the coffee machine instead and meticulously begins to make a cup, mentally listing all the things he’s doing and has to do in order to not turn around and look at Magnus’ computer, mentally priding himself on the fact that he manages not to. He’s getting better.

“Isak, hey! You’re up early,” Magnus says as he walks into the kitchen. He’s wearing clothes but his hair is still wet. He shakes it out of his face as he sits down by his laptop. “’Mind making me a cup as well?”

Isak only shrugs and repeats his earlier process to avoid temptation. He will not look at the review, or any other, for that matter.

“Hey, Isak, listen to this, ‘Once again Næsheim manages –’”

Isak slams his coffee cup onto the counter. God damn it, Magnus.

“He’s so cool,” Magnus says, lying halfway across the table, staring dreamily into his screen, “did you see him on the Late Show the other day? He was there with Sonja, though, so I don’t know if I believe the rumors about them breaking up.”

“I still don’t believe they were ever together,” Jonas says as he enters the kitchen. He gives Isak a careful look that’s easy enough to ignore, even as he knows he deserves it; he hadn’t exactly handled seeing – seeing him well, spending all his time since either mindlessly numb or furiously busy. The mud on Jonas’ running shoes isn’t dry yet and drags all over the kitchen floor.

“Dude,” Isak calls him out on it, only to have Jonas shrug, “sorry, man” before turning back to Magnus.

Out of all of them, Jonas was the most likely to indulge Magnus in his Even-obsession. Mahdi would roll his eyes and make fun of him, although he would listen – until a certain amount of time had passed, there was only so much Even-fangirling he could take – and Isak would, for obvious reasons, shut him down harshly immediately and then have to apologize for it later after feeling shitty about it.

It’s not fair.

“Hollywood does it all the time,” Jonas insists. “Fake romances for publicity or something.”

Magnus frowns. “Sonja isn’t famous, though. Neither of them would gain anything from an arrangement like that.”

Oh yeah, nothing at all, Isak bitterly thinks to himself as he pulls out the bread and a knife to cut a couple of slices for breakfast. Nothing Even would ever gain from being in a relationship with Sonja, nope.

“What are we talking about?” Mahdi knocks on the doorframe, grinning when Isak starts to moan about the mud he’s now tracking in. Honestly, when did Isak become the responsible one?

“Even and Sonja,” Jonas says, throwing the one apple they’ve bought around in the air rather than eating it.

“Sonja and Even,” Magnus corrects. “Sounds better, doesn’t it?”

They sound absolutely fucking perfect. Yippee.

“New drama?” Mahdi asks as he pulls open the fridge, rattling its contents around. Isak tries to narrow down on what is being moved around without actually looking.

That was a jar, the mayo? Maybe the jam – probably the jam. What else have they got on that shelf? If he just keeps focusing on those things, on Jonas’ and Mahdi’s movements, of cutting up the bread, then it won’t hurt as much to be here when Magnus is talking about Even.

“Nah,” a few clicks on the computer, “he’s set to win another award. One for ‘Circles’ this time – he better fucking win, that movie was a work of art and I will hunt down that damn committee if they fuck it up.”

Isak can hear Jonas trying to smother a snicker. Usually Isak would look over at him and share a knowing look, implying they’re both suffering through this conversation, but Jonas is polite enough not to show it.

“There’ll probably be new articles and interviews coming up with him, then,” Mahdi fishes out the butter – the butter, that doesn’t go on their jar shelf – and closes the fridge.

Magnus emits an odd ostrich-type gasp followed by a furious amount of clicks. “Oh my god, do you think he’ll come to Norway to do some as well? Do you think that’s why he was here in the first place? Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

He starts frantically typing on the computer as he keeps muttering that he needs to look it up. Isak rolls his eyes, but he keeps his mouth shut, because he’s a good friend and he’s getting better, no matter what anyone else might believe.

“How’d practice go?” Isak asks instead and then focuses all his attention on the stories Mahdi and Jonas tell him about football training and how it had been so slippery they’d almost had to cancel. The coach had finally put an end to the madness when it had turned into much more of a mud-fight than a football match.

“You don’t look all that muddy for having been in a mud-fight.” Their shoes are filthy, though. Isak’s going to have to remember to clean that off of the floor before it dries and stains the wood. Does mud stain? He isn’t particularly interested in finding out.

Jonas holds up his hands that are colored grey from the dried up mud. “T’is all about strategy, man.”

“And I hide behind him,” Mahdi nods. Isak can’t help but snort when Jonas pouts dramatically. He’s quick to turn his attention back on Isak though.

“You lot should be nicer to me,” Jonas whines.

Isak rolls his eyes as he takes a sip of his coffee, but he dutifully asks Jonas in a faux-complacent voice, “How can we ever make it up to you?”

Jonas grins obnoxiously. “Cook me lunch,” he demands.

Isak quirks an eyebrow. “Excuse me? Did your hands fall off at practice? I’m not cooking you lunch.”

Jonas holds his hands up again and, alright, fair enough, they are disgusting, but not unusable. “I can’t use these hands to cook. I’d end up eating mud!”

“Don’t eat mud,” Magnus tells them absentmindedly. He’s still clicking away on the computer and Isak doubts he even knows the context to what he just commented on.

Jonas laughs. “Even Magnus can tell it’s a bad idea and he’s off in Even-land.”

Isak rolls his eyes again. “Alright, fine. What do you want?” Anything to get the conversation away from Even, which was what he’d been trying to do when he’d asked about footie in the first place.

Jonas chants nonsense triumphantly and doesn’t even bother answering Isak, before Isak makes to leave with his coffee to go back to his room.

“An omelet!” Jonas yells at him. He reaches out to grab onto him, but then thinks better of it, which Isak is quite grateful for even if he refuses to show it. “Make me an omelet!”

“What d’you want on it?” Isak takes another sip of his coffee before he places the cup on the counter and opens the fridge.

“Ham,” Jonas decides. “Ham and red bell peppers.”

Isak grimaces as he riffles through the contents of their fridge. Not only does he like neither of those, they also don’t have either. “I can do cheese and tomatoes.”

“Done,” Jonas agrees too quickly and sits down at the table opposite Magnus.

Jonas and Mahdi strike up a conversation about a possible strategy they should probably bring up at the next practice – usually Isak would be all about that, but right now he kind of likes the simplicity of having to focus on what his hands are doing.

He doesn’t cook often – at all, more likely; he hasn’t got a clue as to why Jonas would ask him to cook him lunch. He doesn’t have the patience for it, nor is he particularly good at it – he just knows enough to get by.

But there is something mind-numbing about cracking eggs open, the yolk and whites sizzle against the hot pan while Isak takes out a cutting board and lays two big tomatoes on it. They’re still slightly dripping from being washed and it leaves behind a pool of water on the cutting board underneath them. He should probably dry that off.

It’s fifty/fifty whether or not it’ll actually keep his mind off of things, or if whatever he’s cooking is so simple or the issue so big there’s no reprieve for him, but right now he can ignore Magnus’ muttered comments and tune in and out of Jonas’ and Mahdi’s conversation.

It’s nice. It’s everything he’d hoped of getting when the boys had first asked him to move in. And it’s really the small moments like these that remind him just why he decided enough was enough, that he was done with being drunk 95% of his day and miserable 100% of it.

“There’s nothing,” Magnus whines. He’s still tapping away so Isak doesn’t know how truthful that is, or if all the articles are just saying the same thing over and over again.

“Cheer up!” Mahdi tries, pointedly talking over Magnus’ exaggerated sighing. “It’s still early. Maybe nothing’s been released yet.”

“I guess,” another tap. Then a click and a few more clicks, and then Magnus types something else in.

Isak busies himself with sprinkling some cheese onto the now golden, fluffy eggs and then finds a knife big enough to cut the tomatoes in slices.

“Don’t worry,” Isak hears Jonas say, almost like he’s further away than the couple of steps he really is. “There’ll be something soon.”

Magnus sighs again. “I’ll just keep refreshing until something new pops up.”

“That’s a bit obsessive,” Mahdi tells him. “Come on, have a bite of omelet with us and then you can check. You can’t spend your entire day just refreshing all those sites.”

Isak knows Magnus will be frowning, he knows him well enough to know that. “I sure can.”

Mahdi tuts, but he doesn’t get into it, which Isak is rather grateful for. He’s still got a bit of a headache lingering from his panicked paper-writing, sleepless night, and hearing about Even had not been the morning he’d hoped to have to wind down, but oh, well.

“Where’s the food at?” Jonas whines. He stomps his foot underneath the table like a toddler. Isak bangs the knife against the cutting board in the same pattern to mock Jonas – which he shouldn’t, because that knife is massive and Isak is going to lose control of it if he’s being a dick handling it.

“You want the eggs raw?”

Jonas probably rolls his eyes or does something equally rude and unappreciative of Isak’s magnanimity. Isak actually goes through the effort of twisting around to stick his tongue out at Jonas.

Mahdi laughs as Jonas tries to throw a random piece of paper they have lying around, but he’s forgotten to fold it or crumble it into a ball, so it just hovers in the air before it slowly falls down on the ground.

“You’re acting like a child,” Jonas scolds, putting on a posh voice that makes Isak want to laugh again. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt this light.

“Oh, yeah,” Mahdi deadpans. “He’s acting like a child. Remind me again, who was it that started that mud-fight?”

“That son-of-a-bitch Markus if anyone asks,” Jonas answers raptly. Isak snorts as he makes the first slice, carefully curling his fingers away from the blade. “Especially if –“

Magnus interrupts them when he starts screaming. All three of them jump up and Isak whirls around to him to see what’s wrong, what’s happened, what’s –

But Magnus is just looking at his computer screen, and he’s screaming because he’s excited.

“Jesus Christ,” Isak grumbles. “Don’t do that! I nearly cut myself!”

He’ll let Jonas and Mahdi deal with whatever the fuck is going on. God, he’d just been having fun, but now it seems like his good mood has evaporated as quickly as the April weather changes. He knows it’ll come back; he just needs to settle down a bit and get his heart to stop racing from the fright Magnus had given all of them.

He places the knife back onto the tomato while he involuntarily picks up on Magnus hyperventilating and Jonas and Mahdi asking what’s happening even while they still sound slightly annoyed about the scare as well. Even that Isak isn’t a good enough friend to do.

No, stop it. He’s getting better and everything takes time. He’ll get there, one day. Hopefully.

The tomato is still a bit wet, the skin smooth and slippery as he tries to make it stop rolling around long enough for him to cut it. He’s just gotten the perfect size ready to press down on when Magnus wheezes the first intelligible thing he’s said since he started shouting.

“They’ve published the marriage certificate!”

And Isak’s world stops.

Or his heart does – his world doesn’t, because if he could stop the world, he already would’ve done that. He would’ve stopped it a long time ago.

His mind is dangerously blank, no inputs or outputs and he can’t even register how scary that feels. He doesn’t register that his hands aren’t still but desperately shaking. He can’t register anything until he presses down on the knife, involuntarily following-through on his abandoned motion.

Except he isn’t holding onto the tomato anymore, not properly anyway, so the knife slips off the surface. Isak barely registers the pain from the blade cutting down his hand, leaving a big enough gash that he starts bleeding.

“Shit!” he swears and Jonas is up off his chair before Isak can even move to the sink to rinse it off.

“Jesus!” Mahdi rushes over to the two of them. He grabs the roll of paper towels on his way, already bundling up way more pieces than Isak needs.

Jonas grabs onto his arm and drags him over to the sink. The water is cold and ends up splashing everywhere from the high pressure. It sounds like bullets hitting metal in Isak’s ears.

“Hold it under the water – Isak,” Jonas says louder to get his attention. “Hold it under the water!”

“It doesn’t look like it’s deep,” Mahdi says, pressing the bundled up paper towel onto his palm too quickly so it ends up getting soaked through.

The pain is dull. Isak always thought pain would bring someone back into their body, but all it does is make him float away even further. All the noises around him sound dulled down like he’s underwater and everyone around him is trying to scream at him to get his attention, but he can’t hear them properly.

His breathing picks up and he has to stop this, stop panicking before one of the boys notice.

Jonas notices. He looks up at Isak with a worried frown and Isak can’t look at him, just keeps looking at the wet, slightly red-stained paper towel Mahdi is still pressing onto his hand.

“Hey, you alright?” Jonas asks. His hands moves up from his elbow to his shoulder to get a better grip. “You’re not squeamish around blood, are you? Do you feel dizzy?”

Mahdi makes a high-pitched groan. “Please tell me you’re not about to hurl.”

“Shut up,” Jonas doesn’t stop looking at Isak. “Isak?”

And it just – it sounds like the first of many confused, slightly scared Isak?’s that Isak has a feeling he’s about to hear for the rest of his life, and it hasn’t even started yet.

It hasn’t started before Magnus goes, “What. The actual. Fuck.”

Jonas and Mahdi don’t hear it, but Isak does. It’s the first thing he hears properly since the knife slipped out of his hand, and he wishes he hadn’t heard it. He wishes he hadn’t heard it, won’t hear it ever again, but Magnus repeats it when Jonas has turned off the sink and Mahdi has given him another, now dry, towel to press against his hand.

It’s not even bleeding anymore, but Isak holds it there anyway. His body somehow won’t let him press down, so it’s just resting there.

“What the fuck?”

“Magnus,” Jonas snaps, twisting around to look at him, “we’re a bit busy right now, think you could fantasize about Even later?”

Jonas’ hand is still on Isak’s shoulder, which means that when Jonas turns around, so does Isak, and Mahdi seemingly subconsciously mirrors them as well. Isak’s lower back is pressed harshly into the counter. He tries to take another step back, wants to get as far away from Magnus and his stupid, stupid laptop as entirely possible, but he can’t. He’s stuck, he’s stuck, and if the certificate is out then he’s also stuck in a completely different way.

Magnus’ lips are pressed into a thin line as he stares right at Isak. His gaze is unwavering and Isak feels pinned by the mere force of it, his breath halting as a chill settles over his body.

Magnus doesn’t even reply to defend himself. He doesn’t reply to explain. He just slides the computer around until the screen is facing them, and there Isak sees it.

He sees a large, blown up picture, right in the beginning of whatever article Magnus has open. The article itself doesn’t really matter, it’s just the picture that certainly does, or what the picture is of at least matters.

Jonas and Mahdi clearly can’t tell at first – they’re too far away from the screen, but Isak recognizes the piece of paper. He recognizes the info. He recognizes the Vigselattest written at the top and he recognizes Even’s handwriting and he recognizes his own handwriting. He recognizes their names and the date and their signatures. He recognizes all of it, because he has that exact paper tucked away, forever in hiding because he hadn’t been able to bear the thought of getting rid of it.

He’s staring at his own marriage certificate, blown up and on the internet for anyone and everyone to see. And now Magnus has seen it. And Jonas and Mahdi have seen it and are seconds away from realizing what it is.

And Isak doesn’t want to be here for when they figure it out.

“Oh my god –“ Mahdi starts, has barely started before all life suddenly returns to Isak’s body and he bolts towards the hallway.

His heart is pounding and the blood is rushing in his ears. He can barely hear Mahdi’s incredulous exclamations or Jonas’ surprised gasp. All Isak knows is he needs to get out of there, right now.

He’s just a couple of feet away from the doorway when he’s suddenly hauled back by the hand Jonas still has on his shoulder, has had ever since he came up to him to help with the cut on his hand, and suddenly Isak is back to standing between Jonas and Mahdi, counter pressed into his lower back.

Mahdi moves until he’s blocking the entrance to the kitchen, like that would be enough to deter Isak from trying to leave. Isak wants to laugh a bit at that, laugh the way he’s feeling; hysterically and panicked and maybe all he wants to do is scream and cry, actually.

They’re all just staring at him.

Isak is breathing heavily. It stands out in the otherwise quiet room, and all that amounts to is Isak’s breathing picking up even further. He’s still looking frantically around the room, like a new exit will suddenly pop up just because he wills it so. It doesn’t.

He can’t bear to look at any of them, but at the same time he can’t stand not knowing what they’re thinking. Can’t stand having to witness them looking at him differently, like he’s different, but also can’t stand living in this middle place, this Schrödinger’s box where they could either be looking at him in disdain or the same way they’ve always looked at him; like he’s their friend.

Friends don’t lie to each other. Not about something big like this.

Isak looks at them.

It’s just a quick glance, scanning over each of them before he can’t stand to look anymore, focuses in on the back wall in the kitchen instead. They’re all looking confused, but Jonas is also looking both panicked and pitying, like he’s afraid Isak will bolt again, which, yeah, is looking really tempting right now. Mahdi looks small and Magnus, most surprising of all, has a careful mask plastered onto his face that gives nothing away.

Isak can’t even begin to imagine how he looks right now.

Can they see? Can they see the panic and the heartbreak and all the other feelings he’s been trying so hard to hide away?

The quiet breaks.

“What the fuck –“

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god –“

“Isak, what the hell is that –“

“I don’t understand –“

“Is it real? Is it actually real?”

“Isak, what – I don’t, I –“

“It doesn’t matter!” It tears out of Isak’s throat, all guttural and anguished and Isak’s hands are curled up into fists. The palm with the cut hurts from it, but he can’t stop. His hands are shaking and so is his voice and so is his entire body, keyed up on adrenaline and pure terror.

It makes them all quiet down again, but now it seems like the words won’t stop pouring out of Isak’s mouth. Just a repeated slew of it doesn’t matter’s that doesn’t answer any of their questions and doesn’t help Isak one bit either.

“How does it not matter?” Mahdi sounds angry. Isak sees Jonas out of the corner of his eye sending Mahdi a warning glance, like he should be careful how he speaks to Isak when Isak is the one who has been lying all along.

“It doesn’t,” is all Isak seems to be able to say. He isn’t shouting anymore. As quickly as all the rage had been built up, the fight rushes out of his body, leaving him deflated and woozy. He’s still breathing too quickly. “It doesn’t matter.”

Jonas isn’t touching his shoulder anymore. As heavy as it had felt, like Isak’s knees were threatening to boggle under the added weight, as unsettling and rejecting does it feel to be let go of, to be standing on his own two feet, suddenly very, very alone.

No one is saying anything. Magnus’ computer screen is still facing Isak. Isak can’t stand to look at it, but he can’t figure out how to tell Magnus to turn it away either.

“You’re marri-“ Magnus starts, but Isak interrupts him harshly.

“Don’t. Just, don’t.” He wants to curl his hands around the countertop to help support him, to keep him standing, but he can’t figure out how to uncurl his hands from the fists they’d formed into, even as he isn’t even clenching them so harshly that they’re shaking anymore.

Magnus is frowning where he’s still sitting at the kitchen table. “I don’t understand.”

Isak doesn’t either. He hasn’t understood anything for a long time.

Please, he wants to beg. Please, just forget about all of it, erase it from your minds, from the internet, but he can’t get his mouth to cooperate. Even if he could, it wouldn’t work. He can’t change the past – not the one that happened five years ago when he first met Even, and not the one that happened five minutes ago when everybody found out about it.

Magnus keeps wording the sentence soundlessly before it apparently makes enough sense for him to try verbally again. “You’re mar-“

“Please!” Isak’s voice breaks and he feels like his legs might give out from underneath him.

“You’re – you’re – to Even –“

“Just don’t, stop,” the pleas are rushing out of Isak’s mouth, but Magnus just continues going over and over it without actually getting any of the words out.

Mahdi is shuffling between his two feet from where he’s standing next to him on his left, but Jonas is standing stock-still, gaze unwavering from Isak. It makes him feel like he might be going out of his own skin from how uncomfortable he is, but also like his mind is so overworked that he can’t handle this small thing on top of everything else that his mind is slowly shutting down.

“This is why,” Mahdi mutters, just loudly enough that Isak can hear him over Magnus’ ranting. “This is why.”

He repeats it one more time, like it’s the answer to every question Mahdi has ever asked, and Isak thinks that maybe it is, but that only makes something disgusting curl in on itself in his stomach.

“I can’t believe you’ve been – this entire time and with – with Even none the less!” Magnus is still going on.

But I’m not, Isak thinks he should say, because he isn’t, hasn’t been for a long time now. With every word that comes out of Magnus’ mouth, Isak feels a part of him give up. He’s been fighting for so long, and now it’s all been in vain, because everyone knows now. Everyone knows.

Isak doesn’t cry. He thinks he might’ve forgotten how to, he’s spent so long forcing himself not to after all. Now all he’s left with is a blissfully terrifying numbness that’s only ever overpowered by an encompassing anxiousness.

“It doesn’t matter,” it sounds too small. Mahdi snorts, unimpressed.

“Of course it fucking matters,” Mahdi swears. Isak might’ve flinched had he not felt like he’s not currently in control of his own body. The only thing he actually feels are his cheeks and his neck, which feel freezing compared to the heat filling his cheeks. “Why would it fucking not?”

“Because it doesn’t!” Isak tries to put more power behind his words, but he can’t tell if he succeeds. He sounds like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum, just repeating the same words over and over again. “It doesn’t matter, so can we just forget about it?”

He goes to leave again, but Mahdi steps in front of him so quickly Isak can only flinch and fall backwards into the counter again.

“We really can’t,” Mahdi sounds mean, and if there’s one thing Mahdi isn’t, it’s mean. Isak can’t seem to draw in his next breath. “Because there’s a picture in an official article that mentions you by name that says that you’re –“

“It doesn’t –“ Isak tries again, but Mahdi doesn’t let him.

“It does! You’re marr-“

“I’m not!” There are tears threatening to prickle in the corners of his eyes despite how numb Isak still feels. His heart feels like it’s permanently lodged in his throat, keeping him from breathing properly no matter how badly he tries. “I’m not, I’m not –“

Magnus’ brows are furrowed. “So it’s lying –“

“I’m not,” Isak tries again. “It doesn’t fucking matter, any of it, because I’m not – we’re not – we haven’t been for years! I signed the papers and everything and it doesn’t –“

He can’t get the last it doesn’t matter out. Isak doesn’t think it actually makes a difference based on the stricken looks on the boys’ faces at that confession. Mahdi looks like he might want to cry, and Magnus is looking so terribly confused, and Jonas seems to be looking at him in pure horror. It makes everything hurt worse.

His body is slowly starting to prickle to life again. It hurts and Isak hadn’t thought he could feel more pain than what he’d already been feeling. There’s something cold pressed into his hand, and Isak looks down to see he’s still holding the paper towel, pressed together and nearly wrung out from how hard he’d been clenching around it.

“That’s what’s been going on,” Magnus says, almost apologetically, except he doesn’t look it. “That’s why you’ve been –“

It doesn’t matter, Isak wants to shout, but he doesn’t. His throat and chest feel too tight for him to say much of anything.

“Holy shit,” Mahdi shakes his head and repeats it. “Holy shit.”

The paper towel feels like a sad, wet clump, slowly falling apart in his hand already. Isak shouldn’t be able to relate to a paper towel.

“You’re sad,” Jonas breathes out, like it’s a big revelation. It’s the first thing he’s said since he’d dragged Isak back from his attempted escape.

Isak wants to laugh, because, duh, but he fears he might let out a sob instead, so he just grits out an “I’m fine,” because he’s supposed to be at this point, it’s been so long, and hopes that’s the end of this discussion.

It isn’t. Jonas looks even worse after that. They all do.

“Why have you never said anything?” Mahdi asks, but it gets drowned out by Magnus talking at the same time.

“Since when are you gay?” Magnus asks and that – that was the question Isak had always dreaded to hear. He doesn’t actually know what to do now when it’s finally been asked.

“Magnus!” Jonas hisses. “You can’t just ask that!”

“Figured you would’ve been paying a bit more attention to the Even-part, anyway,” Mahdi mutters and Isak can’t look at either of them.

Magnus shrugs. “We’re all a little bit gay for Even Bech Næsheim.”

It startles a laugh out of him, or maybe not, because the noise that comes out of his mouth is a little too wet, too desperate, too raw to really be a laugh. It makes everyone look like they’re so impossibly out of their wits, but Isak can hardly focus on it, because – this is it.

This is the moment he’s been dreading, the one he’s had nightmares about or the one he’s been unable to sleep because he’d spend the night worrying instead. This is it.

And Isak isn’t ready for it.

“I can’t,” Isak stutters out, gasping in a breath that seems too out of place with how little he’d actually said, but it’s like there’s no air left inside of him. “I need to –“

He stumbles to his left, barely managing to right himself before he barrels into Mahdi.

Mahdi reaches out for him, like he isn’t sure if he’s supposed to catch him or if he’s supposed to stop him from leaving, but he steps back when Isak nearly manages to fall over again from avoiding being touched by him.

“Wait!” Magnus stands up so quickly the chair nearly falls backwards before it manages to right itself. “Don’t leave, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean –“

Jonas tries to reach out to touch his shoulder again, but aborts the movement so his hands are just hanging midair. He must’ve been able to see something on Isak’s face that the last thing he wants right now is to be touched.

“Sorry,” Jonas says, and Isak doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for. “We won’t say anything about it again, just – please don’t run away again, okay?”

But Isak can’t – he can’t stay in this flat, he can’t be here right now. He can’t stand having to look his best friends in the eye and know that not only do they now know he’s been lying to them, they know.

“I can’t be here,” Isak stumbles over the words and tries to curl in on himself, despite how he feels like he’s only a couple of inches tall right now.

They all look a little more broken at that.

“I promise we won’t talk about it. Why don’t we just go into the living room, sit down for a little bit? I promise we won’t –“

He doesn’t get to finish, because Isak can’t – he can’t stay, he can hardly breathe, hasn’t known how to do that for so long now. If he can’t even figure out how to breathe he doesn’t feel ready to figure out how to stay.

He can’t even look at them properly. They all look so hurt and it’s all Isak’s fault, and he knows he should feel worse about it, but all he’s feeling is the looping panic of they know.

“I can’t be here,” Isak repeats more firmly. It makes Jonas’ mouth snap shut so quickly Isak almost would’ve thought he was angry, but he just looks like he doesn’t know what to do.

Mahdi looks like he wants to argue, but Magnus gets there first.

“Where do you want to go, then?”

Three heads snap over to look at him, but Magnus doesn’t seem fazed, doesn’t move his attention away from Isak.

Magnus sighs. “I – we can’t have you run out on us again, alright? I’ve been constantly terrified that I’ll do something to make you run again and that will be the last time we ever see you,” Magnus looks out the window. Isak feels even heavier without his gaze on him. “So just – if you want to leave, fine, but I can’t – just let us know where you’re going and if – when you’re coming back.”

If. The if repeats itself in Isak’s head. If, if, if.

Somehow, despite everything else that’s going on, it’s that if that makes him tear up.

“Eskild’s,” tumbles out of Isak’s mouth before he can even think about it. It’s his default answer, has been for years, ever since they met, that if he’s in trouble he’ll go to Eskild’s. “I’ll go to Eskild’s.”

Jonas sighs, but nods, even as he looks like it’s the last thing he wants. Mahdi and Magnus don’t look particularly fond of letting him out of their sights either, but they don’t say anything when Jonas fishes his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it and hands it over to Isak.

“Here,” he says. He stretches his arm out so he won’t have to move closer. “Just call him up, tell him you’re coming. Do you have his number?”

Isak’s hand is shaking when he reaches out to grab the phone. He sees how they all notice, but then they all divert their attention away from it.

He’s got the number memorized, had spent ages tracing over it, both the numbers and the pattern on a phone, back when he’d first gotten the number and had been terrified someone would gain access to his phone and leaf through it, discovering an odd contact.

Eskild picks up on the fourth ring.

“Hello?” he sounds cautious and Isak barely registers that it’s from having an unknown number call him.

“H-hey,” Isak has to clear his throat, has to do something to stop feeling like he’s about to burst out crying just at the sound of Eskild’s voice. “It’s me.”

“Isak?” Eskild sounds more urgent now, and Isak can hear things moving around in the background, like Eskild’s getting ready to leave, ready to come get him. Isak doesn’t think he’s ever deserved having Eskild in his life. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Can I –“ Isak pinches his eyes closed. It’s only a matter of time before Eskild finds out anyway, Isak should be the one to tell him.

But the words won’t come out of his mouth. He never figured out how to say the words, he isn’t ready, never has been.

“Can I come over? Are you home?” he asks instead.

Isak barely waits for Eskild’s affirmation before he just about throws the phone back in Jonas’ hand and tails it out of there, going to grab his coat. Mahdi follows behind, just to check that he’s actually putting on his shoes before he leaves. They can still hear Eskild’s voice over the phone, rambling, even if the words aren’t distinguishable.

“Hello?” Jonas says, finally turning the phone the right way up so he can talk. “Eskild? Yeah, Isak’s leaving now. It’s, uh – it’s a bit complicated.”

Isak wants to snort as he stuffs his feet into his shoes. His hands are still shaking when he tries to unlock the door. Mahdi has to come over and do it for him. It makes Isak feel so useless and so desperate and just so much worse overall.

“You should probably look it up before he gets there.” Is the last thing Isak hears before the door smacks shut behind him. “Just google –“

OOOOO

Isak doesn’t have a key to the Kollektiv anymore. Hadn’t really had one when he’d lived there, either. He’d been using a spare of Eskild’s, his backup plan for if he ever lost his keys whilst he was at work. It had made Isak feel good that technically that meant Isak was now Eskild’s backup plan, was how Eskild had explained it to him, with a large smile and a gentle nudge with his shoulder.

Jonas is waiting by the foot of the stairs patiently, waiting to make sure Isak doesn’t… run off or get himself hurt, or just gets there safely. He’s out of Isak’s sight, but Isak can still hear him there, had heard him all of the way over.

He rings the doorbell again, but Eskild gets to the door first, so Isak just has to hear the melody play out clearly without the door serving as a barrier.

“Isak,” Eskild breathes out. He’s slumping down where he’s standing in the open doorway, like seeing Isak in front of him made someone cut off the strings holding him up. “Isak.”

And Isak can’t handle how desperate Eskild sounds, how desperately sad and desperately hurt. Isak lets out an involuntary equally hurt whine and throws himself at Eskild.

Eskild ends up fumbling to grab onto the door so he won’t fall from the impact, but once he’s gained his balance his arms fold around Isak and hold on to him so tightly it hurts to breathe.

Eskild pulls him in and hugs him so tightly it hurts to breathe, but it feels so good. It feels like how it should feel getting a hug from his mom, if she’d ever hugged him that is. He shouldn’t be thinking about that. It doesn’t matter and this is better anyway.

They stand there for ages. Isak wants to sob, but it’s the first time in ages he feels like he can breathe. Maybe it’s just because he always knew he would be able to do that with Eskild.

“Why did you never tell me?” And fuck, Eskild’s hurt, Isak made Eskild hurt.

It’s all everybody wants to know, why didn’t he say anything, but what would he even have said? Hey, do you remember how I’ve denied being gay the entire time I’ve known you? Well, guess what!

“I couldn’t,” he chokes out, his throat tightening. “I couldn’t, I –“

Isak feels a sob threatening to burst out of his throat. Maybe Eskild can sense it, because he brings him inside the apartment and shuts the front door behind him. The click of the lock and the slam of the door sound final.

Past

Even borrows his parents’ car, a grey thing that looks older than it is, without Isak knowing about it, or knowing why he does it.

It’s still early in the morning when Even texts him to go outside. Isak had immediately replied with an ugh with too many of every letter to tell Even how not amused he was at the prospect of wandering down four flights of stairs just to come down and kiss Even good morning – something he could do, mind you, if Even actually just came home or hadn’t left the bed at arse-o’clock in the morning.

But because Isak is a good fiancée, he walks down every flight of stairs with every intention of bitching Even out before dragging him back inside to kiss him.

It’s close to stifling already outside, even as Isak’s only standing in joggers and a t-shirt. There’s no breeze to take the brunt of the heat. It’ll be horrible later in the day when their apartment will start slowly cooking them.

He doesn’t see Even until the honking startles him. He whips towards the direction of the sound and sees Even behind the wheel, window rolled down and left arm hanging halfway out. He’s grinning widely at Isak, but Isak sees the strain to it, right in the corner of his mouth, revealing the slight tension there is to him. He’s also wearing his sunglasses, so Isak can’t see his eyes and make out what he’s really feeling.

“Hey, there,” Even drawls dramatically, doing an exaggerated nod of his head like he’s checking Isak out. It’s dumb and it’s stupid and it still makes Isak flush and giggle like a schoolgirl. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”

‘A place like this’ is in fact in front of their apartment complex in Oslo in one of the cheaper areas, but by no means not well-respected. That’s not the point, though, so Isak leans his weight against the car, forcing Even to bodily turn around in his seat to keep looking at him.

“Oh, mister, I’m terribly lost,” he plays it up, batting his eyelashes until Even has to fight to keep the laugh down. “Can you help me?”

“Sure thing, sweetcheeks,” except it’s done in an American accent, and ‘thing’ sounds more like ‘thang’, making Isak snort. Even grins and nods towards the passenger seat. “Hop on in; I’ll give you the ride of your life.”

“What, the car or your dick?”

“Isak!” Even admonishes playfully, playing up the faux-offence by gaping disbelievingly. It’s stupid and Isak’s still grinning.

“Where’d you get this thing, anyway?” Isak pats the part where Even’s window refuses to roll down entirely. Even catches his fingers and brings them casually to his lips.

There’s no one around. They both know this, they’ve both checked. It still makes Isak’s heart pound faster for not all the right reasons.

“Borrowed it from my parents.” Even looks down at where he carefully places Isak’s fingers back on the window. He doesn’t look back up at Isak’s face, and the tension is back at the corner of his mouth, in the line of his shoulders. “They think I’m taking the boys for a trip.”

Isak feels immensely guilty. It bowls over him, leaving him feeling off-kilter and vaguely disgusted with himself for not being better, being more right.

He knows it’s always been a strain on Even to lie to his parents like he is – maybe not at first, when they were trying it out, or when they decided they were official. But ever since they moved in together and Even had to tell his parents they had to call before coming over so they could mask the fact Even wasn’t living alone in a one-bedroom apartment, Even has tended to isolate himself from his parents, and it’s wearing him down. He won’t tell Isak that, but Isak can tell without Even saying the words.

“And what are we actually doing?” Isak asks, but he doesn’t wait for Even to answer before he walks in front of the hood, crossing to the other side of the car and slides into the passenger seat.

Even’s eyes are soft, his whole expression practically screaming fond, which makes Isak squirm slightly in his seat from butterflies flapping around in his stomach. Isak prompts Even to start talking by lightly puffing Even with his shoulder.

“It’s not quite a white limo Tesla,” Even grins crookedly, but there’s an apologetic twinge to it and the tension still hasn’t left him entirely.

Isak reaches over for him, rubs his thumb along the corner of his mouth until the downward curl of it smoothes out. “I don’t need a Tesla,” he tells him, because he doesn’t. “I’d much rather just get to have you.”

He can tell Even wants to kiss him, but he doesn’t. As the time comes closer to nine, people start showing up, and it’s a regular car with no tint to the windows.

“You just want me because I can drive this thing,” Even teases instead, patting the steering wheel.

“I got into this deathtrap for you, the least you can do is maneuver it around. Which reminds me, what are we doing?”

“Ah!” Even holds up a finger, mock-serious expression on his face as he signals for Isak to wait – which he does, skeptically.

Even undoes his seatbelt with a click, and then contorts his body weirdly in a twist to reach onto the backseat. Isak can’t tell what he’s doing, but he can hear the crinkle of something – paper? – confirmed when Even thrusts a stack of papers into his hands.

“Here you go!” He’s practically vibrating with excitement, his eyes sparkling, and for a second he’s so captivating Isak literally, despite the immense curiosity, can’t look away from him.

The papers are still neat and pressed, only slightly wavy from the ink of the large pictures having long dried.

“What –“ Isak trails off as his eyes skim over the first paper in the stack. A photograph takes up more than half of the first page, depicting a rather idyllic place, taken from the terrace of some house, cabin maybe, Isak presumes, showing the horizon of clear water and typical Norwegian nature of rocks, cliffs, and trees. You can just see two chairs and a small table in the foreground, but it’s obvious the nature is supposed to be the selling point.

On the remaining part of the paper, there’s text, starting with a greeting and a thank you for booking which makes Isak’s heart rate pick up exponentially.

He skips over the text, goes straight to the next picture – a bedroom, white sheets and a window letting in what appears to be morning light – and the next picture – a small kitchen connected to a dining area – to the next picture – the living room with more couches and chairs than Isak and Even will be able to fill. Isak goes back to the thank you for booking! and looks for a date, a place, any indication of what the hell is Even up to.

Today. It’s booked from today. A couple of hours away from Oslo, the distance manageable even if they would’ve had to do it by bus.

“What is this?” he looks up at Even, then back down at the papers because he can’t believe it, then back up at Even because he can’t believe it.

Even’s truly grinning by now. “Well,” he starts, trying to appear suave and not succeeding at all, “I was thinking it might be a really great honeymoon spot.”

Isak’s heart stops. He thinks his hands might be shaking, his entire body is.

When he manages to look up from the papers, Even’s already holding up his phone, showing the e-mail that they’ve got a slot at Oslo’s City Hall today.

Isak’s out of his seat before his brain catches up.

He leaps across the gear stick to get to Even, only taking enough care not to accidentally brain him or knock him out in his haste. He hears the papers crinkle alarmingly and distantly hopes there was nothing essential on them that can’t be salvaged by a bit of smoothing out.

Even’s laughing and wrapping his arms around Isak, drawing him in closer. It’s a bit awkward, seeing as Isak’s legs are too long and also a bit stuck at the footrest of the passenger’s seat, the rest of his body draped over Even’s. He never wants to let go.

“Are you serious?” he asks, voice muffled a bit from where his mouth is pressing against Even’s shoulder.

Even laughs. “One hundred percent, baby.”

Isak doesn’t know what to do with himself. He feels too light and too heavy and too full and he’s so in fucking love. He can literally feel his brain not able to process everything that’s happening, can feel his body reacting to the shock of it. His eyes start watering, his shoulders shaking. He sniffles.

Even twitches. “Are you crying?”

Isak doesn’t even have to look at him to know he’s smiling, the asshole.

“It’s allergies,” Isak protests, presses his face harder against Even’s shoulder, his tears probably wetting the fabric, but if Even tries to make fun of him, Isak will tell him it’s snot.

Even laughs, loudly and unapologetic, his entire body shaking underneath Isak. It’s familiar and comforting, and it might even make Isak cry harder.

“To weddings?” Even finally manages to ask. “Or just your own?”

Had it been anyone else Isak would’ve been annoyed with them, but he hears the teasing in Even’s lilt and his arms are holding him tightly against his chest, hands gentle as he rubs his back.

If they ever are to tell anyone, which Isak sincerely doubts, he’ll make sure Even won’t mention this part.

Knowing Even, he’ll specifically do it just to get Isak huffy so he can kiss him sweet and pliant.

“Weddings,” Isak answers, drawing back and wiping shyly at his eyes. Even’s staring at him like he never wants to see anything else the rest of his life. “But my own might be an exception.”

Even grins, his hands smoothing up and down Isak’s sides. “Should we go check, then?”

A laugh bubbles out of Isak’s throat, a bit wet and it makes a few more tears spill over and down his cheeks. He nods, keeps nodding until Even’s laughing and nodding as well, leaning forward until their noses brush. Isak doesn’t even have it in him to check if anyone’s nearby, can’t look anywhere else than at Even.

It’s the first time they kiss in public when the sun is shining and they’re not tucked away in an alley or behind a shed in the bushes.

“I’m always serious about you,” Even tells him when he pulls back. His eyes are wet too. “And I seriously want to marry you. Today.”

Isak grins, presses another peck to Even’s mouth. “Let’s go do this, then.”

OOOOO

Even’s the only one who has a full suit – or, something close to a full suit, the jacket a little too modern and wonky to fit formal wear outside an artistic gathering. By the time they make it to City Hall it’s too hot to wear a jacket anyway, which leaves them wearing chinos, Even in a white button-down and Isak in a grey button-down with short sleeves.

They’re both hot and sweaty, lungs hurting from laughing whilst running from the parking space they’d gotten ages away and through the hallways so they wouldn’t miss their appointment.

The officiator doesn’t bat an eye at the two of them being boys, but he does look surprised and then pitiful at the completely empty hall that he has to perform the ceremony for. The guilt churns around in his stomach when Isak forces himself not to think about Eskild, whom he knows would not only be happy to witness but happy for him – once he got over the shock of never having been told. He knows Even’s thinking the same about his own friends, his parents. They’ve both got people they want to be here, they’ve just… never told them.

They end up pulling two secretaries on their lunch break in to witness. They’re two elder ladies, and one’s smile reminds Isak of his mother so much from when she was well, when she still recognized him, that he almost wants to give her a hug.

It’s a quick ceremony, only a little more than ten minutes. The remaining paperwork doesn’t take nearly as long as the initial paperwork had, and then –

Even’s eyes are sparkling, Isak knows his own are too. God. God. And then they’re married.

It’s the first time in – ever that Isak doesn’t care who is watching, that there are now essentially three strangers who know about him, who know about him and Even, and he doesn’t care because he’s married and he’s going to kiss Even.

He nearly tackles Even with how he bodily throws himself at him, but Even had been prepared and only laughs as he wraps his arms around Isak’s body, holds him close and leans down so he can kiss him again.

No one throws rice at them since it isn’t allowed, but Isak doesn’t mind. Can’t really seem to mind when Even’s holding his hand right until they get to the entrance, and then they’re both running again to get back to the car, to get to whatever Even has planned, to get to be alone, for Isak to get to kiss his husband.

The car ride takes simultaneously longer and quicker than it should to get to the cabin – Even’s driving just a bit too fast, not enough to make Isak anxious, but enough that he gains time, but then they have to pull over at rest stops or park behind gas stations just to laugh or press their lips together or be married.

It’s well into the evening by the time they get there. Their legs are tired from being cramped up for so long, so they park down by the beach instead of by the cabin.

“What’s all this, then?” Isak keeps looking at the scenery, then back to Even, then back on the beach, back to Even again.

It’s windy. His hair keeps getting pushed down in front of his eyes. Even is holding both of his hands, though, so he can’t brush it away.

It’s not important, anyway. He can see Even clearly. Can see him smiling and his eyes, bright and blue and happy and Isak fills giddy with it, even with the confusion.

“Your beach story,” Even tells him, finally stops walking backwards but keeps pulling Isak towards him until they’re pushed together and it’s easy to lean down and kiss him.

The cabin is as lovely as it had been on the photos. It’s the exact same, but with a larger deck than Isak had thought it would have. They sit there, eating pizza that’s lukewarm with how much time has passed since they picked it up at the closest pizzeria.

The cabin itself is secluded, hidden away in a corner of the universe that Isak and Even are taking for themselves. There are other cabins nearby, they both know, but they can’t see any from where they are.

So when the sun is setting, the last rays reflecting in the water, the sky colored pink and yellow and orange, a few crusts scattered around in the cardboard box all that’s left of the pizza, Isak doesn’t hesitate to climb into Even’s lap and kiss him.

The wind is colder than it’s been all day with the night settling in, but Even’s a warm heat pressed against Isak’s chest, between his thighs, his hands warm as they slip underneath Isak’s t-shirt and roam across his back.

Their lips smack against each other’s a lot louder than they’ve ever dared to before when not hidden away under covers or behind locked doors. It’s liberating. Isak feels like he could float away right where he is, would spend an eternity right here in this moment if the universe would let them.

“I love you,” Even whispers, the words broken apart by their lips. Isak’s too busy enthusiastically kissing him to say it back, so he says it with soft touches, with his thumb smoothing down along the curve of Even’s eyebrow, down to his cheekbones.

I love you, too he screams in his head. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Isak gets lost in Even. Can’t remember that he’d already started undressing him before they got inside until the next day when they find Even’s belt and button-down next to the now empty cardboard box that’s been picked clean of pizza by the birds and any other creatures to have passed by. All he remembers is Even, Even, Even.

Even kissing him; his mouth, his neck, his chest, his thighs. Even inside of him. Even crying as he tells Isak he loves him, that he’s so fucking happy.

They wake up in a bed with messed up white sheets, the sun shining in because neither of them had thought about drawing the curtains.

It’s stupidly early because of the Norwegian sunrises, so they just lie there for ages, lips moving over lips lazily until they drift off. When Isak wakes up again, Even’s lips are smushed against his cheek, his nose scrunches up periodically every time Isak blinks, his eyelashes tickling Even’s skin.

He giggles as it happens, then has to kiss Even awake. From there it’s easy to roll onto his back, pulling Even along with him until Even can sink in where Isak’s still wet and open from last night.

They spend long mornings in bed. Then Even makes them scrambled eggs, and Isak distracts him by ‘apparently’ eating berries suggestively, which Isak will deny until the day he dies, so they don’t actually end up eating before the eggs have gone cold. They’re still good, though.

They go down to the beach, they sit on the rocks, messing around, they explore their surroundings without going too far to risk accidentally bumping into anyone else, bursting the bubble they’re in.

Even films them for a bit, just small tidbits. Tells Isak that one day he’ll use it in the greatest film he’ll ever make, the one about Isak.

Isak blushes and tells Even he’s an idiot, and any movie he’d make about Isak would be a pompous piece of shit that Isak can’t have associated with his name, it would be slander. Even laughs and kisses him quiet as Isak tries not to think about how Even is currently giving him the story he promised him over the phone years ago by now. A story on the beach. One that isn’t sad, one where the two people in love do end up together. That means more to Isak than anything else.

All in all, Isak can’t imagine a better honeymoon. Has to kiss Even until his lips are swollen and numb whenever he thinks it.

They don’t exchange rings.

Neither of them really wears any rings anyway, but wearing one on their ring finger can only mean one thing, and they still don’t know how to answer people’s questions were they to ask, “Oh? Who’s your wife?”

Instead, Even makes Isak a flower crown out of dandelions that’s quite shoddy at best, and a few petals and leaves keep falling off, but Isak loves it and can’t stop smiling. That romantic fool, of course he had to make a subtle reference to how they met.

Isak slips Even a little note that’s folded in half. Even’s eyes are shiny when he reads the single sentence Isak has written.

This will be epic all on its own.

Next part

#Evak #Evak fanfiction #SKAM #SKAM Norway #SKAM fanfiction #Dutten-does-the-fanfic #Something Great

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aziraphalesrarebooks · 5 years ago

Text

The Halloween Nanny Ashtoreth and Warlock fic nobody asked for. Written with lots of love and an extra scoop of sugary sweet fluff to rot your teeth.

Can be read alone here or on AO3

But is technically part of my connected oneshot collection found here: Connecting The Stars

“Nanny!” shouted the ferocious lion as he jumps into Crowley’s arms.

Halloween is weeks away and it’s a favorite of the Dowling Matriarch. She’s busy planning a Halloween costume party for local diplomats and anyone else who’s anybody. The house is to be full of people and music and there’s even to be a haunted trail in the garden. Crowley must admit it sounds fun if he wasn’t to be otherwise occupied.

“Look! I got you a pumpkin!” He’s 7 years old and is currently wearing a pair of lion footie pajamas his mother had bought for him earlier in the week. The hat was pulled up over his head, giving him a fuzzy mane of hair. It had been his day off and from what Aziraphale had said, the boy had been on his own for most of the day but had come out to the gardens when the boxes upon boxes of pumpkins were delivered.

“Brother Francis said you’d like it, I picked it out myself!” He turned around and proudly grabbed the pumpkin that was hidden partially behind his bedroom door.

“It’s perfect my little hellspawn, where shall I keep it?”

His tiny lips pursed, then his eyes glittered with mischief. “You can keep it in my window! They are supposed to scare off evil spirits. That’s what Mama said.”

Crowley had the decency not to laugh but hid the snort behind his hand. “Evil spirits you say?”

He nodded his head, confident in his ability to warn his dear Nanny about all the evils of Halloween. “She said ghosts come out because the curtains have holes in them and demons and witches…” he lowered his voice, “and even bats!”

He chortled, “Do you think your Nanny would just let any old demon get you?”

Warlock rolled his eyes, “Of course not, Nanny. You’re too scary, they would be too scared to mess with you!”

“And you must always remember that.”

“I will, love you, Nanny Ash.”

“I love you too hellion.”

“… Nanny?”

“Warlock.”

“What’s a pumpkin going to do against a demon or a witch?”

“Well, I’m sure it would hurt if you threw it at one.”

“Na-nny!”

“War-lock!” he mocked.

“Stop teasing me!”

“Well, first we will need to carve it.”

“a Jack-o-Lantern?”

“Precisely.”

“And then what?” he was making that face again, eyebrows furrowed in concentration with his lips pursed.

“Then we put a light inside of it, usually you do it a few days before Halloween; October 31st.”

“To scare off spooky things?”

He grinned, “To scare off spooky things.”

“Nanny?”

“Hm?”

“Why can’t we go to the party?”

Ah. That had been a sore spot. Warlock was ecstatic about the upcoming holiday and he assumed that it was a good thing. The Antichrist and all things considered, being excited for Halloween was probably a good sign. However, they were being sent to stay at a hotel for the night.

He’d been so upset when his mother mentioned it in passing, for months all she’d talked about was the party and how much fun it was going to be, only for her to drop that bombshell earlier in the week with the promise of left-over treats the day after.

“You and I will have our own party. Perhaps we can carve our pumpkin then?” He had a plan, Aziraphale would be off by the time the party began and then they’d meet at his flat.

To his surprise, Warlock decided to be a demon for Halloween. His reasoning was to see if the pumpkin actually worked.

He’d been insisting on scary stories every night before bed; and had, several times ended up sneaking into his Nanny’s bed to cuddle after a nightmare. He’d absolutely fixated on being a demon, pitchfork an all.

So here he was, in Crowley’s flat, wearing a bright red costume with silly horns and a pitchfork, terrorizing his plants. Although, that had probably been a bad idea on his part.

Warlock was under the impression this was just another weird hotel room.

It was odd having the kid in his home, but it didn’t feel wrong. He was thrilled; although, he’d never admit that to anyone. He loved Warlock, often thought of him more like his son than his sort of nephew. Having him in his flat, it just felt right.

“Pizza then pumpkin?”

“Yes!”

Just then, a pizza that had been planning to be eaten by a downstairs neighbor found itself being delivered to a different address. Crowley paid then shut the door.

Warlock took a big bite of the cheese pizza, smearing sauce on his cheek as he did. “Nanny?”

“Locky.”

“Nanny! I’m not 3 anymore!”

He sighed, “Yes, Warlock?” the years were going by too quickly for his liking.

“I’ve been thinking, we shouldn’t do a face for our pumpkin.”

“Well, what should we do?”

Another bite, this time with sauce being wiped onto the red pants of his costume. “What about an owl or a… cat… or… Oh! What about a snake! We could do a snake like your cool tattoo!”

It surprised him, he didn’t know what it surprised him; Warlock had often made it known how cool he thought his mark was. “A snake might be hard to do…”

“Na, we can do it! But… maybe not as loopy as yours.”

They set to work once they were finished eating and before long, an acceptable jack-o-lantern sat proudly in the demon’s window. The light flickering from inside the pumpkin, contrasting against a very acceptable snake.

“Nanny?”

“Yes, Hellspawn?”

“Do you think we could sneak past the guards and go trick or treating?”

He shouldn’t have encouraged it, but they both hated being tailed by the secret service agents and Crowley had learned it was easier to just redirect them than try and lose them. Tonight, for instance, both guards had found themselves remembering they were to be off tonight and had bid the other farewell and gone home.

“That can be arranged.”

“Hey, Nanny?”

“Yes, Warlock?”

“You should be an angel for Halloween!”

And that’s how Aziraphale found him nearly two hours later. He’d just happened to have an old angel costume laying around because when the Antichrist asks, you do it.

“My dear, you look simply heavenly.” He giggled at the picture his friend painted standing there in a long white tunic, two white tufts of feathers hanging from his shoulders that were supposed to be wings and to top it off, a fuzzy white halo atop his fiery red curls.

“Brother Francis!” He hugged the man tightly. “Come into our room! Look!” he said tugging Aziraphale into the kitchen of Crowley’s flat while pointing at the jack-o-lantern proudly.

“Oh, my dear, such a marvelous job you both did! Here, why don’t you and Nanny get together with your pumpkin so I can snap a picture.”

“Francis.” He warned.

“Now dear, in front of the pumpkin with your sworn enemy.”

“Nanny isn’t my enemy!”

“But my dear Master Warlock, demons and angels are mortal enemies!” He rolled his eyes as he heard Crowley snort. “My dear, it is your Nanny’s job to thwart your evil deeds!”

“… Nanny?”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t throw a pumpkin at me.”

Aziraphale spluttered.

“No promises, hellspawn. Angel? Picture?”

He nodded, holding up his camera and taking several photos.

“What do you say to some snacks and a scary movie?”

He nodded enthusiastically, running to where he’d seen the television earlier. If the couch was now large enough to fit the three of them, he didn’t notice. He was too busy digging into the popcorn and candies he found waiting for him.

The two settled in beside him, Brother Francis pulling a warm tartan throw over the three of them as the movie began.

Emily?

Emily!

Come little children, I’ll take thee away, into a land…

He felt eyes on him, he looked over and met the blue eyes of his Angel. His heart flip-flopped, then he quickly looked away only to glance back and smile shyly back.

He reached up and took off the fuzzy halo and placed it onto Aziraphale’s head.

“Angel.” He said grinning.

“You’d make a great angel Brother Francis, Nanny can be a demon with me. You can… thwart us!” he snuggled against the demon, turning his attention to the movie.

The two smiling at the other over the head of their little demon before turning their attention towards the movie as well.

And if years later, Adam found a scrapbook in the cottage with a photo of the three of them sitting, cuddled close on the couch. Aziraphale would just smile and reminisce while his other two boys were out pretending to collect wood for a fire.

#Good Omens #Good Omens Fic #Crowley #Aziraphale #brother fran #Nanny Ashtoreth #aziraphale/crowley #Warlock Dowling #My favorite kid ever #Halloween Fanfic #Pumpkins #He dresses up as a demon #Briefly mentioned Adam Young #Kid Fic #Ineffable Husbands #Almost Antichrist

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midnightmorales · 5 years ago

Text

only a scrape - p.p.

prompt: "it's only a scrape," "only a-? you've been fucking stabbed!"

warnings: light blood mention, stab wound, swearing, just the slightest dash of angst, also i didn't proofread this so

word count: 2.1K

pairing (platonic): peter parker x (ex bestfriend!) reader

summary: peter gets stabbed, and doesn't know who to go to besides his old best friend. while reader is cleaning his wound, they realise that they miss being friends with him.

a/n: this is my birthday post for pete! she's a bit late, because i forgot to queue her before bed last night, but i did write her yesterday, so it still counts! i also tried to make this gender neutral! i may have slipped up somewhere... but i hope you enjoy it! another thing- there are some slight crush themes in there, but they don't quite develop.

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you sighed, drumming your pencil on your desk.

it was 3:43am, and all you still hadn't come up with a topic for your essay, which, unfortunately, was due in five hours.

you were supposed to write an analysis of a theory of your choice. the catch? it had to relate to current events.

your friend had jokingly suggested you write your essay on spider-man. you had to admit, it was a great idea.

just a week ago you were always talking about spider-man. you had his merch, and you'd even seen him in action once or twice (though, helping old ladies cross the street is much to call 'action'). everyone knew you were obsessed a fan.

that might've been the one question everyone in your class was dying to know the answer to, as well. as the masked hero grew in popularity, everyone was growing more and more curious: who was spider-man, really? whose face lay behind the mask?

and you could've done it too. you could've written a fifty-page analysis on spider-man, and in the process you probably could've figured out who he was. and you would've too!

if it hadn't been for the fact that you already knew who he was.

to be fair, you'd only just found out three days ago. you laughed to yourself thinking about it, but the circumstances under which you had found out were definitely nothing to giggle at- that is, at the time of the event.

you remembered it vividly, as if it had happened only a few seconds ago.

it was friday. you'd been in your unicorn footie pajamas, sitting on your bed eating oreos and listening to music, when you heard banging on your bedroom window.

you paused your song, listening for it again. it was almost midnight, you realised, shooting a quick glance at your clock. who would be at your window at 11:56pm?

"y/n!!" you heard. you froze. that was definitely not one of your parents. someone was at your window.

to be honest, you were kind of freaked out. out of everyone you knew, you didn't think any of them would just show up at your bedroom window at midnight- at least, not without texting you first.

you quickly searched your room for defense- in case this visitor was not a friend. unfortunately, there were no stray weapons in your room.

so you opted for the next best thing- perfume. if promoted, it could be sprayed into someone's eyes, which would at least allow you time to get your parents.

you crept toward the window, perfume in hand. "y/n, please be up! i don't know who else to go to."

the voice sounded scared. you looked at the perfume bottle in your hand before setting it down and dashing to your window.

"spider-man?!" you cried.

spider-man! he was at your bedroom window? begging for your help?

you opened the window, and he climbed in, almost immediately collapsing on the floor.

you noticed he was clutching the side of his torso. "are you hurt?" you asked urgently, trying to move his hands.

they let up easily, allowing you to see the bloody, dirt-covered stab wound.

before you could react, the superhero pulled of his mask, gasping for air.

you sat there, shocked. peter parker? spider-man was dorky peter parker?

you felt bad for thinking it, but you couldn't help it.

up until high school, you and peter had been best friends. then, as you got older, you gravitated more towards the popular crowd, and peter the opposite.

you rarely spoke to him now. your new friends had him grouped with the nerds, and you didn't object.

instantly, you felt mounds of regret wash over you. how could you have let this happen to him? you shouldn't've let your friends talk about him like that! you should've been there for him.

"hi," he said, offering a weak smile.

"peter...." you breathed. you wanted to tell him you were sorry. that you had made a mistake. that you wanted to be friends again.

but you were smart. you knew that right now, your feelings didn't matter. peter was wounded, and he needed your help.

you snapped yourself out of your trance, and instructed him to apply pressure to the wound.

after that, you didn't really know what to do.

years of watching tv and reading books had taught you that much, but what came after.

you pulled out your phone and hesitantly typed in the words "how to treat a stab wound".

you weren't quite sure if you could trust wikihow, but it was your best bet at the moment.

"okay, lay down," you told your former friend. he followed your instructions, laying on down on your floor. "oh, here,"

you handed him a pillow from your bed, and he put it under his head. "next we need too...." you trailed off as you read the page. how many times did they have to say 'deadly'?

"is that the only one you have?" you asked him, glancing up from your phone.

"yeah," you nodded, returning your gaze to your phone.

after a second, you looked up at him again. "peter?"

"yeah?"

"i'm gonna need you too uh... you have to.... you have to take off the suit." his eyes widened. "i know, i know... but i have to clean the wound,"

"y/n, you don't understand- i'm not wearing anything under this,"

at this, your eyes widened. "what do you mean you not-? you've got to be..."

"all i have on is underwear,"

"aw, you've gotta be shitting me, parker!"

"i'm sorry!" he said frantically.

"don't be, i'm not the one with the stab wound!"

"it's only a scrape," he said sheepishly.

"only a-? you've been fucking stabbed!"

he smiled faintly. "yeah...."

"look, how about this? i'll see if i can find you some of my brother's pants to wear? but you can't have a shirt,"

"that works, i guess,"

"don't move," you said, switching the light off in your room before opening the door, and slinking out of your room.

you snuck down to the laundry room, and searched the dryer. you rummaged until you saw some black sweatpants. you snatched the, praying they were your brothers, and dashed back up to your room.

"here," you handed them to peter in the dark. "while you put these on I'm going to get you some water and a snack,"

peter started to object, but you quickly cut in. "this is not about hospitality, parker, you're losing blood by the second!"

you went down to your kitchen and grabbed a couple bottles of water. before you got anything to eat, you realized the oreos you had been eating were still in your room.

you went back up to your room with the water. "you dressed in there, pete?" you whispered.

"yeah," he replied.

you went into your room, shutting the door and switching the light back on.

peter parker. the nerdiest of nerds. the most awkward boy you'd ever met. peter benjamin parker. had an eight pack.

woah.

you restrained yourself from saying this out loud. you hoped you hadn't been staring as you turned away from him, pretending to be dealing with something on you bed. "lay back down," you told him.

a million thoughts were running through your head. could he tell how flustered you were? why were you so flustered anyway? and why on earth were you pretending to be so interested in your comforter???

you took a deep breath, grabbing one of the waters. you spun around to face peter again, trying to only look at his face, and handed it to him. "i've got some oreos too, if you wanted any,"

you returned your attention to your phone. it told you to put hand sanitizer on. you quickly found some , and applied it. next step.

"okay, peter, it says i have to talk to you to keep you calm," you told him, string your phone down face up. he nodded. "and you can't look at the wound,"

"so what do we talk about?" he asked. you quickly read the next step. you grabbed a blanket from your bed and threw it over him. he gave you a look of bewilderment.

"it said to keep you warm," you explained, looking back at your phone. "and i don't exactly know..."

"you wanna talk about when we were friends?"

you looked up at him, and tears began to sting at you eyes.

"sure," you breathed, returning to reading your phone. it said to clean the wound. "one second,"

you quickly ran to the bathroom, grabbing some bandages and a hand towel, dampening the towel with some water. you came back and knealt down beside peter.

"they said this was gonna hurt," you warned him. "so just talk through it, okay?"

he nodded. as you pressed the cloth to his skin, he gave a light gasp. "talk to me, pete," you urged him.

"do you... do you remember when we met?" you continued cleaning his wound, not answering. you were afraid that if you did, you may start to cry.

he didn't mind you lack of an answer, though. "we were six. i'd just moved in with may." you nodded as he spoke. "somehow, everyone found out about my parents. one kid told everyone that i was bad luck. he said if you talked to me, your parents would die."

you were tearing up now. you moved your hand to wipe your eye as you continued to work on the wound.

"you were the first person to talk to me." he laughed. "you told me that i should tell on 'those meanie heads'."

you laughed with him, bringing one of your hands up to your cheek again to wipe away the tears.

wikihow said not to close the wound, so you placed a bandage over it as instructed in a way that was 'packing' the wound.

"why did we stop being friends, y/n?" he whispered. you refused to look at him. instead, you focused all of your attention on making sure you'd put the bandage on him properly. "what happened to us?"

you couldn't pretend you didn't hear him anymore. finally, you looked him in the eyes. "we grew up." you answered. "we drifted apart," you looked away again, checking the wikihow for more steps.

"can we drift back together?"

he said it so quietly that at any other time, you wouldn't've heard him. but it was 1:23am. no one was awake, and the traffic was especially light that night.

"you still want to be friends with me?" you asked him, your voice wavering.

"no," he said, smiling lightly. "i want to be best friends with you, y/n. like before!"

you sniffed, smiling at your lap. "can we?" he asked.

"of course pete," you laughed, wiping both your eyes.

he sat up, and you hugged him as tightly as you could without affecting the wound.

"you know you still need to get that wound professionally looked at," you grinned.

"yeah..." he said, staring at the bandage. "you did a good job, you know,"

"google did a good job you mean," he laughed.

you'd found him one of your brother's t-shirts to wear after the emotional rebirth of your friendship. since then, you'd been chatting and eating oreos on your bedroom floor.

"how are you gonna tell may?"

he laughed. "are you kidding? she'd freak out. i'm going to have to ask mr. stark for help, though he might have a couple of quest- why are you looking at me like that?"

"mr. stark? as in tony stark? as in you know the tony stark???"

peter shrugged. "yeah, i mean, i didn't think it was a big deal-"

"you didn't- peter, do you hear yourself? you just casually said you might ask iron man to help with your stab wound!" you had grown a substantial amount in volume as you said this

"shhh, you'll wake your family up!" peter whispered quickly.

you'd forgotten it was the middle of the night. you glanced at your clock, as the time of day set in.

"you've probably got to go now, right?"

peter looked at the time. "oh, shoot, you're right." he stood, grabbing his suit. "where's the bathroom?"

you realised he wanted to change back into the suit. "no- peter, your suit is all dirty and bloody... and there's a hole in it!"

"but-"

"keep the clothes, pete. my brother won't mind,"

he looked from you to the suit in his hands. you did have a point. "are you sure?" he asked.

you nodded. "see ya at school, pete." he waved goodbye, climbing back out of your window.

as you snapped out of your memory you laughed again. you couldn't believe that it took a stab wound to bring you and peter back together.

you looked back down at your empty paper, and the perfect idea hit you like a train.

you began to write furiously- you just hoped you'd be able to get everything down before your alarm clock rang.

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cate-geo · 5 years ago

Text

Camp Pining Gays

(This has nothing to do with camp, or Steven Universe, or Camp Pining Hearts...but it does have something to do with gays who are pining so GOOD ENOUGH)

(Romantic Moxiety College AU with background Logince, and Platonic Prinxiety, Royality, Analogical, and Logicality.)

(Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of food, some suggestive teasing. Tell me if there’s any more.)

(Tags: @ab-artist, @vigilantprotector)

Words: 3,634 (oof, I don’t usually write that much)

Virgil ran his fingers lightly down Patton’s cheek, getting the softest smile in return before he started leaning in. Was this really about to happen?

“Mr. Storm!” Virgil snapped back into reality. Damn it.

“Yeah, Prof.”

“Honestly if you’re going to listen to music during my lecture you could at least pretend to hide it. Instead of wearing obvious headphones.”

Virgil rolled his eyes “Why bother with the stress of trying not to get caught? It’s just easier to tell the truth.”

“Please, just try to pay attention.”

Virgil nodded and completely zoned out the professor the second they weren’t giving him any attention. He fucking knew he shouldn’t have gone to class today. No, wait. He had to turn in the essay. Fuck, why couldn’t he just do that electronically?

The rest of the class was so grueling. He wanted so badly to put his headphones back on, but the idea of being called out again made him want to vomit. God he just wanted to go back to bed, but leaving early would just bring attention to him. At least it was his last class of the day.

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The second the Professor started saying “Alright, I think that’s all for today.” Virgil was out the door in a flash. All earlier hopes of studying in the library were crushed by his need to hide under his blankets. He tried to convince himself that he would study in his room, but he was most likely just gonna pass out.

He walked into his apartment to find his roommate. It wasn’t that he hated Roman, but he really wanted to be alone right now. Luckily Roman seemed to notice.

“Hey bud. Tough day?”

“Yep.” Virgil plopped his bag down and kicked off his shoes before climbing into bed.

“Gonna take a nap?”

“Yep.”

“Don’t worry. I was just about to head out. Gotta rehearse with Patton.”

Virgil immediately shot up “What?” He cleared his throat “Who?” Was he fantasizing again?

“Patton. He’s in my drama class this semester. Sweet kid.”

“He works at the library, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Roman stopped, and Virgil dreaded the gleam growing in his eyes “You know him?”

“I’ve seen him around.”

Roman leaned in close, trying to read Virgil, who was trying to be as unreadable as possible. “Do you like him?” “I don’t just get a crush on every cute guy I see like you do.”

“It doesn’t have to be every cute guy. Just one cute guy.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and hid his head under the covers “I’m napping.”

“Alright alright. I’ll do you a favor and try to get his sexual orientation.”

“Whatever.” Virgil sighed in relief when the door finally opened and closed.

Then he shot up.

“Wait no! Don’t fucking do that!” Roman was not subtle at all. God, Virgil was so glad he wasn’t actually gonna be present for that conversation. Although his imagination wasn’t much better. He groaned and shut his eyes tight. Trying to let sleep overtake him.

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Virgil didn’t really remember falling asleep, but he must have since he was waking up now and it was dark outside. He looked around and noticed Roman wasn’t back yet. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. He should probably make dinner.

He pondered whether or not he should make Roman some food too. Maybe he could poison it for the stunt Roman was trying to pull. Before he could decide though, he heard the door open.

“Heeeeey Virgil~”

“Hey Roman. How was rehea-”

Roman had the hugest shit-eating grin on his face, and coming in behind him was Patton.

Yep. Virgil was definitely gonna poison Roman’s food.

Virgil didn’t know if he should yell at Roman or try to make a good impression. Although, it wasn’t as if he was capable of speech at the moment.

“Hi. Sorry to intrude. Roman said he just needed to grab something real quick. Then we’ll head out.”

“Yeah. We were gonna get something to eat. Wanna join us?” Roman was still grinning.

God Virgil wished he had the idea to make dinner 60 seconds earlier. Then he would have an excuse. “I uh...don’t want to interrupt any rehearsing.”

“Oh, it would be good to have a test audience” Roman wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulder, his eyes telling him that he wasn’t getting out of this one, so he should just tag along.

“Yeah. It could really help to have a fresh set of eyes. You should come.”

Patton was asking Virgil to dinner. Ok so...it wasn’t exactly how he imagined it. But he was too lovestruck to stop himself from saying yes.

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Despite the fear in Virgil’s chest, the dinner wasn’t so bad. The skit they were doing was cute. And it definitely helped with payback giving Roman so much constructive criticism.

Although Roman retaliated quickly. “Oh wow. Sorry. Cute guy alert. Gotta get his number. Be back in a jiff.”

Virgil tried to say ‘Don’t you fucking dare leave me’ with his eyes, but Roman was already gone.

“Wow. I could never ask for a random guy’s number.”

“Yeah. That’s Roman. Extra in absolutely everything he does.” Virgil stared at his drink “Uh...so you work at the library, right?”

“Uh-huh. I’ve seen you around.”

Virgil felt his heart beat faster. Patton noticed him. “Yeah well, it’s a good place to study.” God, why was this so awkward?

“Mhm.” Patton must be finding it awkward too “Roman mentioned you two have Disney movie nights on Saturdays. That must be so much fun.”

“Uh...yeah. When he doesn’t have a date. Which is actually pretty often despite the amount of guys he hits on. Do you want to join us this weekend?” shitshitshit. Did that just come out of his mouth? Shit.

“Wait really?”

“Sorry. That sounds creepy. You hardly know me-us...and I’m inviting you to our apartment at night and-”

“No that sounds nice actually. I just don’t want to intrude on you two.”

“It’s no intrusion. It’s mostly just Roman singing along. It’d be nice to mix things up a bit.” Mix things up a bit? Mixing things up a bit made Virgil panic. So did inviting a cute boy to his place. What the fuck did Roman do to him?

Speak of the devil, Roman sat back down with them, slapping down a piece of paper with numbers scrawled on it “Boom. That’s how you do it.”

Virgil looked down at his lap “Uh...is it cool if Patton joins us for Disney night?” He wasn’t looking at him, but he could feel Roman’s eyes get bigger

“Of course. The more the merrier. We can make it a pajama party.”

“That sounds like so much fun!” Patton had the biggest smile.

Virgil nodded, ready to die.

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Virgil wasn’t going to get super dressed up. It was a pajama party after all, not like he could wear a suit or makeup. Well, any more makeup than his usual eye shadow. But....he didn’t want to smell bad or anything.

“Virge that is the fifth time you’ve brushed your teeth. Are you planning on kissing him?”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, well I’m your wingman, whether you like it or not.”

“Well you suck at it. You never did find out his orientation.”

“Oh. He’s pan.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He has a pan pin on his backpack, I thought you saw it, with how much you stare at him.”

“I don’t stare at him!”

“Yeah, ok”

“I just zone out. It’s a thousand-yard stare. It’s not about who I’m looking at. It just happens.”

“So you can fantasize about him.”

“I am going to stab you with your own sword.”

“So this is a really bad time to tell you I have a date with the guy from the restaurant tonight and I’ll be joining you two later, huh?”

Virgil just noticed how gussied up Roman was. “What? You’re gonna leave me alone with him in the apartment.”

“Hey, you’re the one who invited him here.”

“Roman, please. I beg of you. It was so awkward when you left us.”

“You’ll be watching movies. You don’t have to make small talk. And it couldn’t have been that awkward. You literally asked him on a date.”

Virgil groaned but couldn’t say anything else because there was a knock on the door. Roman placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine. Don’t stress out too much. Patton is a sweet little puffball. He’ll understand if you’re a bit anxious.”

Virgil sighed and went into his room as Roman answered the door. Part of him wanted to lock himself in there forever, but he couldn’t just leave Patton all alone. So he grabbed his blanket and some pillows before walking into the living room and freezing.

Footie pajamas.

Cat footie pajamas.

Fuck he’s adorable.

It kinda made Virgil feel dull just wearing a plain black t-shirt, plain black sweatpants, and his usual hoodie. His hoodie wasn’t exactly dull, but he always wore it so the shock factor was gone.

“Hey, Virgil! Roman just told me he’s gotta head out. It’s a bit of a shame. But we’ll have fun together.”

“Uh yeah. Romeo here can’t turn off his charm for one night.”

“It’s a gift and a curse. I’ll be back late, so have fun you two. As much fun as you want.” Roman winked at Virgil and immediately got a pillow to the face.

“Ugh you’re just as bad as your brother.”

Roman clutched his chest in mock hurt before wiggling his fingers goodbye and walking out the door.

Virgil picked up the pillow he tossed and dropped everything in front of the tv. “Go ahead and choose the first movie. You want popcorn?”

“Yes please.”

Virgil stared at the microwave as the popcorn popped. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Sure he was so close to vomiting, but...it could actually be nice.

He poured the popcorn into the biggest bowl he could find and walked back to find Patton had picked Winnie the Pooh. “Heh. Cute.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing.” He placed the bowl in-between them and hit play.

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It was actually a really nice time. Although Virgil put a ton of attention into not accidentally grazing Patton’s fingers in the popcorn bowl. He wanted to. But he knew if he did he would immediately die, and that might dampen the mood a bit. So Virgil was honestly relieved when the popcorn was gone.

Except his relief was short-lived, because Patton had moved the bowl out of the way and now there was nothing in-between them and they were under the same blanket and worrying about finger grazes was a lot less stressful than worrying about cuddling up to each other.

Besides that, it was nice.

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After a few movies, Virgil noticed Patton’s head bobbing and his eyes drooping. He really was the cutest thing in the world, wasn’t he?

He was trying not to stare, but he probably should have because the next thing he knew, Patton had fallen asleep. On. His. LAP! And Virgil was pretty sure his heart had stopped beating.

What was the normal person response? He didn’t want to wake Patton by moving him. So he tried to play it cool and slowly ran his fingers through his hair. It was so soft. God, why was everything about him so soft?

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A few hours later he heard the door open.

“Awwwww.”

“Shut it.” Virgil hissed.

Patton rubbed his eyes “Oh hey Roman. You’re back. How was your date?”

“Magical~ How was your…” Virgil glared at him “Night.”

“Pretty chill. I guess I kinda passed out. Sorry for falling asleep on you Virgil.”

“Nah it’s fine.”

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The three of them were able to watch a movie and get into about a third of another one before Roman and Patton fell asleep.

Virgil felt his eyes getting heavy so he turned off the tv and curled up in the blanket before drifting off.

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Virgil opened his eyes to a face full of hair. He didn’t remember cuddling up to Patton, but he must have.

He smiled and pulled Patton closer, nuzzling his nose into the back of his neck, hearing giggles coming from Patton.

“Morning Virgil.”

“Mmmm. Morning Pat.” He started pressing soft kisses on Patton’s shoulder blade, relishing in how he could see his blush reach the tips of his ears.

And then he woke up for real.

Virgil looked around. Patton wasn’t anywhere near. He wasn’t even on the ground anymore. This made Virgill sit up with a start. Where was he? Was he hurt? Did he get kidnapped? Did he-

The smell of eggs and bacon coming from the kitchen and the sound of two voices chatting calmed him down. He found his phone and saw it was just after 10. He wasn’t usually up this early on the weekends. Unless he stayed up this late.

Virgil stretched and got up, heading towards the kitchen.

“Oh! Good morning Virgil. I’m almost done making breakfast.”

“Isn’t he great Virge? Real husband material if you ask me.” Roman grinned knowing he deserved the punch in the arm.

“You two should take a seat. It’ll be done any second now.”

Roman obliged, but Virgil stayed. Staring at Patton cooking, he imagined wrapping his arms around his waist and leaning his chin on his shoulder.

Patton turned around “Oh kiddo. Did you need something?”

“I can...uh...help.”

“Aw. Thank you. Here. This is yours and this is Roman’s.” Patton handed him two plates before turning back to the stove.

Virgil nodded and brought out the plates to a grinning Roman “What?”

“Just a nice save is all”

“Maybe be snarky after I’m not holding your food.”

“Ok ok ok.” Roman grabbed his plate “Still a nice save.”

Virgil growled and sat down.

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A few months had passed. Patton and Roman had kept pairing up for scenes, and Roman kept insisting to Virgil it was because they had become friends and had nothing at all to do with the fact that he was the ultimate wingman.

Roman’s date started hanging around more and more. Virgil learned his name was Logan, and he had started to really like his presence.

Virgil liked Roman and he was in love with Patton, but...they were really easily excitable and rambunctious. And when Virgil got overloaded, it was nice to find Logan in a different room just quietly reading a book. It was calming. To hang out with someone without needing to do anything. Allowed to listen to his headphones and just...be.

Logan was also a giant nerd, which comes in real handy with finals just around the corner.

Virgil also couldn’t help but notice how happy he made Roman. He had noticed that Roman’s flirty eyes had turned to more loving with stars in them every time he looked at Logan. It was really nice to see his friend in love and happy. He also finally had some retaliation to every single time Roman teased him about his crush on Patton. Although it didn’t hit as hard because Roman wasn’t keeping any of his feelings a secret.

Speaking of which, Virgil was still too nervous to ask Patton out. Still would fantasize about him. And still felt this weird feeling in his stomach whenever they hung out. Besides all that, the two of them had actually become close friends. Patton would always greet him with a hug, and Virgil wasn’t always the hugging type, but Patton was soft and warm and felt safe and always smells like vanilla, so he was the one exception.

Many nights the two of them had stayed up late talking. Virgil started to trust him, and tell him about all of his anxieties. Except for the ones that involved his crush of course. And the night that Patton told him that he usually bottles up his feelings and tries so hard to be happy even when he isn’t, Virgil almost felt honored with how much Patton trusted him back. It was also really nice to pull Patton into his lap and let him cry in his chest.Virgil hated himself for liking this when Pattion was so upset. But they were so close...it was nice. Despite the topic.

Then one night, Patton told Virgil that he had a crush on somebody and Virgil felt his heart crack into two pieces.

He knew he should have made a move sooner.

“That’s great Pat.”

“Yeah. I was wondering if you had any advice on how to ask them out.”

“Uh...Roman’s usually better at the whole love advice thing. You should ask him.”

“I did, but I’m pretty sure this person wouldn’t want the big romantic extravaganza Roman suggested. I also don’t have the money to rent a hot air balloon.” Vigil snorted “I wanna keep it simple. Like how would you want to be asked out?”

There was no way Patton could have known, but that hurt just as much as finding out about his crush. Having to tell Patton all the fantasies Virgil has had about him, without being able to make them come true. “Uh...I guess I just want to be asked to hang out. Well, not just hang out. Knowing my anxieties, I wouldn’t know if it was a romantic or a platonic thing. I would want you...or well...one...to actually say the words “as a romantic date”. No room for confusion, you know?”

“Got it. Just straight to the point. Thanks, Virgil!”

“Yeah, no problem.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------There was no way Virgil could sleep that night. He looked at Patton laying on his chest and despite how much it stung that he liked somebody else, this wasn’t so bad. Patton was his best friend. He was a great best friend. Crushes come and go. Maybe one day he would stop fantasizing about kissing him and he would be perfectly happy with the relationship they had.

Maybe.

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“Hey Virge, you haven’t talked all day. Something bugging you?” Roman leaned against Virgil and got shoved off.

“I’m fine.”

“Come on, you can tell me.”

“You already know.”

“What do I already know?”

“About Patton’s…” Nope, he was not about to cry “About Patton’s crush”

Roman gasped “He told you?” Why did he sound so excited?

“Yeah. He told me about his crush and wanted more chill advice than what you gave him and I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Roman blinked “What?”

“Don’t play dumb. It’s fine. Patton’s a good friend. I’ll get over him. Eventually.”

Roman sighed deeply and muttered something under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing. Nothing. Don’t worry. I promise I’ll fix this.”

“No. Don’t interfere. He has his own feelings and emotions and is his own person. He likes someone else. It’s not his fault I’m too much of a coward to ask him out.”

“Virge-”

“It’s fine. I have class.”

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Virgil came back from class to see Patton in his apartment talking with Roman. This wasn’t all that surprising, but it still stung. And the fact Patton didn’t hug him was worrisome.

“Ah. You’re home.” Roman crossed his arms “Go on”

“What are you talking about?”

“Heh. I think he means me kiddo…”

“Huh”

“Well...I didn’t really want to put you on the spot with Roman’s suggestion, and when I asked Logan for advice, he told me I should get some information from the source. So I wanted to gather information and then ask you when the time was right. But your advice was literally to be direct, and this was completely not that. But I panicked and didn’t know how you felt. Roman was just telling me how I should have just confessed then and there and that I was making your anxiety worse…and I’m really sorry.”

“What?”

“Oh...uh...my crush is...you Virgil.”

Dreaming. He was dreaming. Daydreaming? Fantasizing? In a coma?

“Ah. Fucking finally!” Roman shouted “Do you know how stressful it’s been keeping both of your secrets for this long?”

Holy shit. This was reality.

“You like me?”

“Yeah.”

“Months of just watching you two together but not together.” Roman collapsed on the couch “It was probably more emotionally draining for me than for the two of you combined.”

“I like you too.”

“Eeee” Patton pounced onto Virgil and hugged him tightly.

Virgil staggered a bit but was able to keep them both up, holding Patton tight.

“Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss”

“Roman, can you shut the fuck up for 5 seconds of your life?”

“Come on you know you want to.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and landed them on Patton “Uh...is it...o...k?”

“Mhm. Very much so.”

Virgil ran his fingers lightly down Patton’s cheek, getting the softest smile in return before he started leaning in. Was this really about to happen?

Holy shit. This time it really did happen.

“Aw. You guys are adorable.”

Virgil flipped Roman off “I’m not adorable”

“Yeah ok, buddy” Roman suddenly gasped making Virgil jump “We should have a double date!”

Patton squealed “YES!” He dragged Virgil over to the couch and he and Roman started prattling on about where they would go.

Usually, Virgil would leave when the two got this excited, but he was kind of excited too. In his own chill and calmer way. Besides, he had a boyfriend now. And it was really nice to finally wrap an arm around his shoulder and kiss him on the cheek while he was talking instead of just fantasizing about it.

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Later that night, Patton was sleeping on Virgil’s chest, and Virgil was too excited to sleep. He leaned down and kissed the top of Patton’s head and heard a giggle.

“You aren’t sleeping.”

“I can’t. Too happy.”

Virgil hid his blush, despite it being dark.

“Yeah...me too.”

#moxiety #logince #platonic royality #platonic prinxiety #platonic analogical #platonic logicality #Virgil sanders #Patton sanders #Roman Sanders #Logan Sanders #college au #sanders sides

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