#oh god i hope i don’t say something stupid while i’m loopy. oh god

[fanfic-me-up]

Capture This! || Kaminari Denki

Synopsis: You walk in on Denki, your best friend of five years, getting off. Two questions: Why is there a picture of you? And why do you want him to take more? 

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x fem!reader

Warnings: M/E+, 18+, explicit sexual content

Word Count: 6k+

A/N: This is for the @bnhabookclub​ bingo event! Thank you @shoutogepi​ and @im-here-for-the-heroes​ for beta reading. Shout out to @whats-her-quirk​ this fic was born from me poppin in during your thirst hours lol

“Lotion? Check. Tissues? Check. Pictures?” 

Denki swallows. 

“Check.”

It’s routine for Denki, really the only ritual he sticks to in his otherwise scatterbrained schedule of kickin’ ass, chilling with friends, and playing Fortnite till ungodly hours of the morning.

But he can’t help it. You’re fucking gorgeous, and Denki has needs - his brain programmed to get off at least three times a day else he can’t function. The first time it happened, he felt a deep sense of shame, twisting his gut, disgusted with himself that he defiled your image. He couldn’t look you in the eye for a week until you had enough and demanded to know what was up. It was the first time he lied to you. 

But one time became two, and three, and suddenly Denki needed an image of you all the time. The one of you looking all pretty in that stupid summer dress was his favorite. You bought it that one time you dragged him to the mall because you needed a “guy’s opinion.” He rushed to the bathroom because if he didn’t get out fast, he was gonna drag you back into the changing room and rip that dress off himself.

You’re adorable, hot, sexy, and absolutely terrifying, wrapped up in one perfect package.

Oh, and did he forget to mention?

Totally off-limits.

This is why Denki has to resort to hanging out with you, listening to you vent about your boy problems, and how you just want to meet “the one” already. Denki’s heart breaks a little more every time you shove him deeper into the friend zone, all the while pretending like he didn’t just jerk it to you a couple hours before.

He works his hand up and down his shaft, growing harder by the second with each stroke. It doesn’t take much to get him going, not when it’s you. You’re wearing his hoodie, toes buried in the sand, roasting a marshmallow in front of a bonfire. You’re smiling at something Kirishima said, Denki doesn’t remember what, because all he could see was the light in your eyes. A genuine spark lit only when the cameras were off, and you were unaware of anyone watching. Denki loved witnessing these rare moments; wanted to commit it to memory, so he did. When you posted the picture on Instagram, Denki was more than surprised; you had scrunched your nose when he showed you the picture, displeased with how you looked.

This should not be happening. Any normal person would feel ashamed when staring at a picture of their best friend and touching themselves. No one knew about it, and Denki was surprised he was able to keep it a secret for this long considering he’s friends with fucking Mina of all people.

Enough pre-cum bubbles at the tip that he doesn’t even need the lotion. Staring at you on the screen, wearing his hoodie that’s way too big it covers your thighs completely, makes his mind wander to all sorts of ways he wishes he could get you out of that hoodie. He leans back into the chair, spreading his legs with his eyes half-lidded, imagining what your lips might look like wrapped around his cock. 

“Fuck yeah...”

Groaning at the image of you on your knees, lips bruised and slicked with spit from fucking your pretty little mouth has Denki tightening his fist, hips fucking into his hand in a continuous rhythm. 

He’s on the verge of coming when the door swings open - the first and last person Denki wants to walk in is standing there in front of him.

“Hey, I called, but you didn’t - ah!” You squeak, throwing the box you’re holding. A sea of random knick-knacks and hero merch rains over you. You hear a thump when the yellow polaroid camera you bought for Denki at a thrift shop hits the floor. 

“Fuck!” Denki jumps from his chair, an array of pens fall in a heap to the floor. 

You whip your head away, heat spikes your body, embarrassed that you saw your best friend in such a compromising position. 

Denki mutters a repeated “shit shit shit” to himself for a good minute before he finally addresses you; his voice rising with each word.

“How did you get in here!?”

“Spare key, dumbass!” 

“That’s for emergencies only!”

“Are you talking to me with your dick out!?”

Silence.

“No?”

You huff at the uncertainty in his tone. It’s only two o’clock, and you can already feel a migraine coming on.

“Denki, if I turn around and you’re not covered, so help me god I will-”

“Okay, okay, I got it. Pants are zipped.” 

You don’t move until you hear the confirming “zip” before slowly opening your eyes (you have no idea why your eyes were closed in the first place), and you turn around to find Denki leaning against the desk. He’s trying his best to appear casual, but the flush on his face and frazzled hair give away what he was doing moments before you walked in. You don’t know where it comes from, but the thought alone stirs something inside you.

The confusing emotion is replaced by hot-blooded anger when you lock eyes on the screen behind him.

“Is that my face!?” 

Denki’s smile drops as he turns around. Dammit. Of course, he forgot to close the tab.

“Uhhh…”

He has no words, none, not when you’re standing there with that intense look in your eyes you get when you’re about to rip someone a new one. Your anger could rival Bakugou’s, and Denki has unfortunately been in the middle of one too many screaming matches. He’s surprised his eardrums aren’t blown out by now.

He clicks to exit out, or at least he thinks he does until he comes to the dumb realization that he’s clicking the zoom button instead. 

“Ho-hold on, let me just…” 

With each click, it zooms a little more into your face until only your nose is in the frame. Denki sheepishly looks up at you.

“Oops?”

Denki’s had a good life. He’s already come farther than most ever dream in their career when becoming a pro-hero, and he’s made some amazing friends most spend years trying to find. The only regret of his is not confessing his true feelings to you, but really what’s one regret? He’s totally a-okay with saying goodbye to this cruel, cruel world if it meant not being subjected to this torture any longer. 

“Denki Kaminari.”

Denki gulps. Oh no. You only say his full name when you mean business. 

“Explain right this instant or I will walk out this door and tell the whole world how you and grape boy took body shots off cardboard cutouts of each other!”

“Hey! We were really fuckin’ drunk and thought it might score us some pity sex with the ladies!” 

“In what world would you licking fuckin’ Mineta equal oh yeah, fuck me, Denki?”

Denki cowers with each step you take, gulping down the lump in his throat when your face is close enough to hold in his hands. He’s never been more simultaneously turned on and terrified in his life. Especially when he just heard the words “fuck me, Denki” escape your lips.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Whatever you do. Don’t. Look. Down.

The last thing he wants is you flinging him out the window because he couldn’t keep his eyes on your face. Don’t get him wrong; he could look at your face forever, even when you look like your one move away from killing him. But… he’s a dude, and there’s boobs in front of him, not to mention your boobs.

“Hello? Earth to Denki?” You wave your hand in his face.

“You may wanna sit down for this.” 

“I’m fine where I am, thank you very much.” 

He huffs out a breath, annoyed you didn’t take the bait. The suggestion was more for his sanity than yours. With you standing so close, his brain is going haywire; the tantalizing scent of strawberries and cream short-circuiting his brain quicker than when he overuses his quirk. It never fails to make his mouth water, if only he could bend down and bury his nose in the crook of your neck, god, he’d never let you go.

How does he even begin to work through the feelings he has for you when they’ve been bottled up since the moment he knew he was in deep? Where does he start?

The fact he’s been in love with you for the past five years? 

Or that he’s been getting off to you for half that time? 

Denki’s mind is running a mile a minute, like a computer in overdrive. He can’t make enough sense of his emotions to convert into words. But, instead of waiting to open his mouth, like a normal person, Denki spews out embarrassing word vomit that connects his two thoughts.

“I love getting off to you.”

A pin could drop, and it’d be as loud as a freaking hurricane. 

Denki groans in frustration, facepalming his forehead. What the hell did he just say, and can he take it back? How long would it take for him to hack into a database and find someone with a time manipulation quirk? He doesn’t even know how to hack, but he’d wrangle his one brain cell and fucking learn if that’s what it takes.

He’s usually good at reading you. You’re one of the few people he cares enough to pick up on how you’re feeling. The myriad of emotions that pass on your face from shock to confusion to a hint of amusement lets Denki know he can breathe easy. At least you’re not trying to kill him anymore.

“Oh-kay that’s not what I - what I meant to say was - hold on, lemme just, rewind.”

He makes some weird, loopy gesture with his arms. His brain was firing a million synapses at once, each connected to a different thought, some deep like the fear of losing you and some not so deep - like he’s really excited to eat the cheeseburgers Bakugou promised he’d grill tonight. 

But he tries his best to reign in the million and one thoughts to focus on you, who’s waiting for an explanation. He takes a deep breath to steady his heart that’s about to beat out of his chest. He only hopes you don’t stomp on it after what he’s about to say.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I have been since our first year at U.A. I wanted to tell you for the longest time, but then you got with Bakugou. Then you broke up, and you needed a friend more than ever, and how could I say no to being ‘your best bro’ when you were crying on my shoulder? It was just never the right time.”

The more he rambled, the more uncomfortable he felt. Out of all the scenarios he imagined of how he’d confess to you, this one was at the bottom of his list to be prepared for. He never expected to be forced into confessing because you caught him masturbating to pictures of you. He rubs the back of his neck and gives an awkward laugh when you stay silent.

“I get it if you wanna, like, shun me forever or something. I deserve it for being such a creep.” 

Denki lowers his head to the floor, the clutter of fallen pens and knick-knacks looks way less intimidating than staring into your eyes. A soft hand touches his chin, lifting his face to meet yours.

“Hey, look at me, it’s okay.” 

Your voice does wonders for soothing the nerves shaking him up.

“I guess it’s not that creepy when you put it like that, and for some weird reason, you’re like the one person I can catch jacking off to my pictures, and I don’t feel the need to report you as a registered sex offender.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but Denki’s heart drops at the idea of you labeling him as the neighborhood perv.

“Please, don’t do that,” he squeaks before clearing his throat, “But for real, Y/N, I’m so sorry. It’s wrong to disrespect you like that, and I promise I won’t do it again.”

Denki has no idea how he’s gonna get off now, but that’s his future self’s problem.

“I can’t help it, you’re gorgeous, and I love ya, and I don’t remember the last time I got laid.”

Fuck. He didn’t mean to say that last part, but it’s the truth. You’re the reason he couldn’t even look at another girl, because they weren’t you, and that’s why he had to resort to pulling up pictures of you. Pictures that aren’t normally deemed “sexy” and of you dressed modestly, without much skin showing.

That doesn’t stop Denki from coming in record time with your name rolling off his lips every time.

“How bad do you want me?”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t the least bit curious about what sex with your best friend would be like. You heard he wasn’t a bad lay from a couple girls back at U.A. 

You’d also be lying if you didn’t say you were just as horny as said best friend.

It’s difficult finding time to date as a pro-hero. When you do, it doesn’t last very long anyway - the other person growing tired of always coming second to your career. Don’t even get you started on one night stands. They’re practically impossible to uphold as once the media gets wind of it, you’re slapped on the cover of “Hero Times Magazine,” and everyone and their mother is calling for you to “spill the tea.” This is why pro-heroes either end up with other pro-heroes or end up alone. 

Denki’s eyebrows shoot straight to his hairline. If someone were to tell him you were attracted to him in any sense of the word, his heart would double-time it, but he’d ultimately brush it off. He knew your type, and he could not be farther from it. The aggressive, beefy, gym rat who could match you move for move in a heated spar of harsh words and hot-blooded passion. You dated Bakugou for fuck’s sake! There was no hope for Denki after that.

But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take what he can get. The words pour out of him like the dam’s been broken and the unforgiving flood rushes.

“I want you so bad, Y/N, fuck, I’ve waited so long, so fucking long, you don’t know how crazy you make me.” 

Your breath catches. His words have an unexpected effect on you, but your heart drums in anticipation. If you listen close enough, you can hear Denki’s beating at the same rate, waiting for what you’re going to say next. Power surges through you. In your past relationships, sex was always seen as this competition. Your exes never wanted to relinquish their pride or control, but Denki is nothing like your exes. He’s laid-back, always cracking jokes, and never dwelling too much on the past, always moving forward to the next moment. He’s perfectly fine with letting you take the reins most of the time. You determine what will happen next.

“You love getting off to me?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but he answers in earnest.

“You’re the only one I get off to.”

You slide your dress off, and it falls to the floor.

“Show me.”

Denki’s eyes travel over your body, his mouth slightly open in disbelief at your undressed state. He wants to capture this moment in case this is as much as he gets, even if he can never use this mental picture because he promised you he wouldn’t. His fingers itch to brush along the lace trim of your bra, to graze along your nipple, and watch your reaction. Are you sensitive enough where you’d full on moan, or would he have to strain to catch the small hitch of breath? Denki was never top of his class. He preferred to wing it and hope for the best, but for you, he’d take his time to study every inch and crevice of your body until he could read you cover to cover with his eyes closed. His gaze travels down to the matching lace panties you wear, a cute little bow in the front waiting to be untied with his teeth. 

Did you plan to get fucked today? Or do you usually wear matching sets on the regular? 

Your skin looks so soft and supple, he’s aching to dig his fingers, but before he can, you step away. Denki cocks his head. Have you changed your mind? But any doubt leaves Denki when you make your way across the room to sit down on the edge of the bed. 

You start with feather-light touches dancing along your collarbone. Your eyes are locked on Denki, getting high on the way he drinks in your every move. Your touches are teasing, especially when your finger dips down to your cleavage. Still, instead of giving Denki what he wants, you change course, making your way back to your shoulders. Denki exhales a breath at your teasing, but says nothing, too afraid he’ll ruin the mood if he says something stupid. 

When you make your way down again, you don’t disappoint; you pinch your nipple through your bra, and the way Denki swipes his tongue over his lip has heat rushing to your core. You slide your hand down your stomach, stopping when you reach your clothed slit. Denki stares, hungry and buzzing in anticipation for what you’ll do next. Smirking in victory, you spread your legs open and pull your panties to the side, giving him the view to capture the perfect picture of your dripping pussy.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” 

You taunt breathlessly, tracing your folds with your fingers.

Oh shit. Were you for real? Please, tell him you were for real because he legit might cry if this was some elaborate prank. Where are the fucking cameras? 

“You don’t want to?” You bite your lip, insecurity seeping through the confident smile you wore just a moment ago.

“No! I mean - yes! Yes, I do, holy shit, let me find - where the fuck is…” Denki whips around, trying to find his phone. Fuck! Out of all the times to misplace it, it has to be now. But then he spots the yellow polaroid camera sitting on the floor, and before he can think, he’s picking it up and praying it has film. He kneels, so he’s eye level with your pussy, but also making sure the angle gets your whole body in the frame. The light streaming in gives you an ethereal look, your skin glowing, and adding to the cute flush on your cheeks. The camera clicks, and a second later, the picture slides out. You giggle at Denki’s impatience. He’s waving the picture frantically in the air, so the color comes through faster. He completely stills when he can finally take a good look at the beauty he’s captured.

“Fuck, Y/N, you look…” 

Denki can’t control the groan that escapes. He looks back up at you, eyes darkened with lust before he’s ripping his shorts off so fast, his foot gets caught, and he almost trips in the process. Once he’s out of them, he plops back down in the chair across the room. You’re surprised when all you feel is pure, unadulterated lust. You expected to be at least a little bit weirded out staring at your best friend’s cock, but all you want is to put it in your mouth and explore all the different ways you can make him come. The tip is oozing pre-cum already, and the way he works his hand with a sense of urgency suggests he’s been hard for a while. It doesn’t take long before you hear Denki grunt.

“Fuck, I’m close.”

You look so pretty spread out for him. For the last five years, he wanted nothing more than to see you like this. His hips jerk up, and he throws his head back, but he makes sure to keep his eyes open like his life depended on it; he didn’t want to miss a second of this. You, with your legs wide open giving him a view of your perfect little pussy. Your panties soaked by you rubbing your clit mercilessly, and your pupils blown wide as you watch your best friend get off to the show you’re giving him. It’s erotic as hell, completely different from the pictures Denki has of you. This one easily tops all the others. He tightens his fist - he doesn’t want it to end without feeling your skin on his at least once.

“Let me touch you, Y/N, please, I just wanna touch you, need to feel you.” 

Denki doesn’t give a fuck that he’s begging at this point. He’s waited too damn long to care about pride or dignity, not when the chance to fuck you is placed in his shaking hands. You bite your lip to suppress a moan, but it comes out anyway.

“Touch me.” 

That’s all Denki needs. Before you know it, you’re pushed down on the bed, and lips smash against yours. He’s eager, a little too eager, shoving his tongue in your mouth and touching everywhere that he can. You don’t have much room to breathe, so you gently push at his chest.

“Chill, Denki.”

He huffs out a breath, muscles shaking like he’s restraining himself from overwhelming you.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” 

He mumbles, peppering kisses into your neck before making his way back to your lips. It’s much smoother this time, his tongue sliding out to tease your bottom lip, asking for permission this time. He groans when you open up for him, your tongue meeting his. Hands trail up until they reach around, resting on the clasp of your bra. Honey eyes meet yours, but you cut off his question.

“I’ll stop you if I need to, but you asking me if it’s okay every time you try something is gonna seriously kill the mood.” 

You reach around to place your hands on top of his, unclasping your bra along with him. His eyes darken at the sight of your bare chest. You try not to squirm at the intensity of his gaze. It becomes near impossible when he dips down to flick his tongue over your nipple before biting with his teeth. He pays the same attention to the other one before kissing his way down your stomach. You arch your back when he spreads your legs and positions himself between them. He makes his way around, avoiding your dripping pussy, teasing your thighs with soft kisses. You huff in annoyance, and he smirks up at you, biting into the flesh of your thigh. This time he places a kiss to your heated center, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch. 

“Is it everything you imagined?” You ask.

He looks up at you, with such a serious expression, one you’ve only seen a couple times since knowing him.

“Everything and more.”

Your heart flutters, and you know you’re going to say something you’ll regret if you don’t stop counting the different shades of gold in his eyes. You clear your throat before throwing your hair back.

“You gonna fuck me, or am I gonna have to do it myself?”

You pull his head in for a demanding kiss, biting on his lip to distract yourself from the rush of bubbling emotions threatening to surface.

“One sec,” Denki whispers, placing one last kiss to your lips, before getting up.

You gape at the giant box of condoms he casually pulls out. It hasn’t been opened, and oh my god, you didn’t even know they made huge boxes like this. There were at least a hundred in there. What person thinks to buy a big box of condoms if their plans don’t include… fucking a whole ass army? 

“What the fuck, Denki?” 

People usually have one, maybe two condoms in their wallet at most. Some guys don’t have any at all, which kills the mood when you’re in the heat of the moment, so I guess you can be thankful that Denki is... extra prepared?

“What?” 

He pulls a condom out and drops the box. It thumps when it hits the floor. You’re taken aback by how nonchalant he’s being about this.

“I- you- wha- How many times do you think we’re gonna do it!?” 

Denki slides the condom on, smirking at your shocked expression.  

“Till we finish this box,” he says as he slides into you. 

You gasp at the stretch. He pushes to the hilt, and stays there when he notices the slight furrow of your brow. It has been a while since you’ve fucked, but soon enough, you crave more so you roll your hips, but he doesn’t move.

“Denki?” 

His head is pressed into your neck, warm breath tickling your skin, and the stuttering heartbeat matches to the beat of your own. 

“Just… gimme a minute, don’t wanna ruin it by coming in two seconds.” 

His words are muffled, voice raspy with desire, and you can only imagine what his face looks like. It makes you want him all the more. Finally, someone who doesn’t see sex as an opportunity to one-up you or to put you in your place. It’s scary how the last twenty minutes have changed five years of friendship.

“Hey,” you hold his face in between your palms. He already looks completely fucked out with his face flushed and eyes glazed. You place a tender kiss to his lips, unlike the previous kisses you shared. 

“You couldn’t ruin it even if you did come right now.”

You caress his hair in an attempt to reassure him.

“You’d just have to make it up to me,” you wink.

His smile is so pure, lighting up his eyes that’s unique to Denki; it makes your heart do somersaults in your chest. But the moment passes as the previous heat between you two spikes when Denki circles his hips, taking his time to feel you inside and out. He’s touching and kissing you wherever he can, your cheek, neck, chest, thighs, like it’s the first and last time he’ll experience you like this. It might very well be. 

This thought doesn’t sit well with you.

Once he’s mapped out your sweet spots, he digs his fingers into your thighs and pulls your hips flush towards his. He pulls out of you until only the tip is brushing your opening and pounds back into you, taking your breath away. He pumps in and out of you faster, and you cry out when he hits that special spot deep inside of you.

“Denki,” you moan. He grunts and spreads your legs even wider, grabbing one and hauling it over his shoulder to pound into you deeper.

He’s getting close, hell, he’s been close even before you walked in. 

“F-fuck…” Denki groans, thrusting at an uneven pace and feeling the familiar tightening in his groin.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you flip him over and begin bouncing on his cock in a much more steady rhythm. Denki’s staring up at you, eyes wide in admiration.

You’re a goddess. An absolute fucking masterpiece that needs to be put in a museum for his eyes only. God, when did he get so fucking mushy? You always brought out different sides that Denki, himself, didn’t even know he had. He can’t keep his hands off you, grabbing your boobs, sliding down the curves of your thighs, gripping your ass. He wants to commit it all to memory in case he never gets to know this pleasure again. 

“Y/N, ah, shit, I’m gonna...” he trails off, unable to finish his sentence.

He’s holding on to that sweet release for as long as he can. He’s been craving it since he met you on the first day of class at U.A. His balls tighten, unable to hold it in any longer, before he gives in to the long overdue orgasm. It hits him hard - his entire body tingling from head to toe like 1000 volts of electricity bolt through him. Denki had no idea he could come for this long, but he doesn’t want it to end - it feels so fucking good inside you. He rides it out for a couple more thrusts before he relaxes, completely sated. You try to pull off him, but he grabs your hips and forces you back down. You squeak, clearly not expecting him to care enough to help you out after he finished.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The tone of his voice sounds foreign in his ears, too gruff and too deep, but you seem to have no problems with it as you moan in response, working yourself on top of him. Your thighs crush his hips, shaking with need as you seek a release of your own. You’re tired from bouncing, so you resort to grinding, swirling your hips deliciously around his cock. Denki squeezes your ass in appreciation.

“You close?” 

“Close, so close, Denki, please…”

Your eyes well up with tears, desperate to finish; the coil in your stomach wound too tight that you might burst any second. Denki helps you by thrusting his hips to meet yours, his hand rubbing your clit. You jolt at the sudden zap to your clit, you look down to see a small spark leave Denki’s fingertip. He does it again, and you cry out, your pussy fluttering from the electrifying touch.

“C’mon, baby, you can do it, come for me.” 

Fuck. Denki didn’t mean for the pet name to slip out, but then you’re moaning louder than before that Denki would’ve had to quiet you if you weren’t alone. Words are tumbling out before you can stop them.

“Oh, fuck, Denki, I love this so much, I love you, I-” 

You slap your hand over your mouth. Denki’s eyes widen for a second before a dangerous glint takes over, and he wretches your hand away from your mouth.

“Lemme hear you. C’mon, Y/N, show me how much you love this.”

You hardly recognize the scream as your own; you flush at how loud you are, but Denki doesn’t seem to mind. It seems to spur him on. He sits up so your chest to chest before he bends down to tug at your nipple with his teeth. You throw your head back in pleasure, your hands coming around to grab at his hair. Golden eyes look up at you from your chest, a slight smirk curving his lips.

“I’m no photographer, baby girl, but I can sure as hell picture us together.”

Leave it to Denki Kaminari to make you come with a cheesy pickup line. 

He gives one final thrust, balls slapping against your ass and hitting the spot deep inside you just right. Your thighs quiver from the pleasure wracking your body, a scream lodging out of your throat so loud that the people next door bang on the wall. You’re overwhelmed to the point that all you can do is rest your head on his shoulder, whispering his name in a broken whimper as you finish. 

You fall next to him on the bed, sweaty and completely wiped, both of you trying to catch your breath. Denki tosses the condom in the trash while you stare at the ceiling, watching the fan swirl round and round. Your mind is no different at the moment, going round in circles, and you’re trying to catch up. Your body feels weightless, tingling all over and loving the high you didn’t think was possible. The bed shifts, and suddenly you’re faced with your best friend of five years. Before he can get a word out, the front door slams shut, and two very familiar, very masculine voices are down the hall, getting closer by the second. 

“Kaminari, you lazy shit, get the fuck down here!”

“Shit!” Denki jumps from the bed, ruffling through the mess to find his pants.

“Denki, just lock the door! Hurry!”

It’s too late as the door swings open, and yeah… if today taught Denki anything, it’s that he really needs to lock his door more often. He doesn’t have time to think as he hops back into bed with you to avoid flashing any of his other friends today. Bakugou would probably threaten to chop his dick off and… yeah, Denki doesn’t wanna think about the rest.

You squeak and cover yourself with the blanket when you’re met with two sets of equally shocked crimson eyes.

Kirishima drops the bag of chips he’s holding. It seems like dropping things when walking into Denki’s room was a common theme today, and he’s sure as hell not looking forward to the cleanup. Denki regrets chancing a glance at Bakugou; nostrils flaring like a rabid predator on the loose and Denki’s his target.

The four of you stare at each other for who knows how long before Kirishima breaks out into a full-on grin.

“About time, bro, congrats!” 

“Congrats?” You turn to Denki, confused.

“The fuck!? You bangin’ my ex, dunceface!?” Bakugou shouts.

“Please don’t hurt me!” Denki squeaks, hiding underneath the covers.

“Oi! You fuck like a man, you better fight like one, too!”

You roll your eyes, hardly affected by Bakugou’s exploding presence, unlike Denki, who is literally shaking beside you.

“Oh fuck off, Katsuki, listen to yourself. Keyword ex-girlfriend.”

Bakugou sputters, and Kirishima drags him by the shoulder.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s been in a mood since he found out he’s gonna be the next star of the Bachelor.” 

“You wanna die too, shitty hair!?” 

You and Denki burst out laughing at the absurdity of Katsuki forced to act like a gentleman on live TV. The image of Katsuki in a suit and tie, holding a rose and actually smiling, is comedic gold to you.

“C’mon, bro, let’s give ’em some space.” 

“Oi! You’re on my shit list now! All of you! Aye! Get the fuck off me!”

Kirishima drags Bakugou the rest of the way, giving you a quick thumbs up on the way out.

You and Denki are still cracking up, but your laughter dies when they leave, and you’re faced with the tension from before. Denki sinks lower into the sheets, hating that he keeps getting walked in on. Who decided it was ‘make a fool out of Denki day’ anyway?

“So…” you start.

“So…” Denki finishes. 

You both stare straight ahead at nothing. 

“Did you mean it?” 

You raise an eyebrow, clearly asking him to elaborate.

“What you said, when you... you know...” he makes a clicking noise with his mouth like that’s universal code for fucking, “Or was it just a heat of the moment thing?” 

You take a moment to think before you give your response. You want to be as honest as possible, and not lead Denki on in any way. Of course, you loved him, he’s your best friend, but did you love him? 

You think back on your friendship, and suddenly a supercut of all the times he was there for you flashes before your eyes. He was there when you needed someone to drive you when you had your wisdom teeth pulled out. You didn’t expect Denki to stay with you the whole weekend, buying you ice cream and watching your favorite movies, but he did. 

He was there when you and Bakugou became an item, always listening to you swoon over how amazing a boyfriend he was. Denki would always respond with “But can he do this?” and would proceed to overuse his quirk like an overpowered Pikachu just to make you laugh. It sends a knife through your heart, knowing Denki was in love with you while you were talking about how great of a boyfriend his friend was. Not to mention how he was there when you and Bakugou broke up, heart-broken and vowing to swear off boys for good. Denki held you in his arms while you cried, staying silent the entire time, which you knew was against his nature. Denki was always there for you as a friend. There’s no doubt he’d be there for you as a lover.

“I meant it,” you say.

Tears threaten to spill, and your heart might burst out of your chest and land right into his hands. You hope he holds on to it forever. He squishes your cheeks and leans down to plant the softest kiss on your lips. This is what you’ve been missing - more like who you’ve been missing. You open your mouth to deepen the kiss, and he meets you move for move. He pulls away, hands still on your cheeks, grazing your cheekbones with his fingertips as he stares into your eyes. 

“Denki, I…” You bite your lip, overcome with emotion. You desperately want to say the words to capture this picture-perfect moment forever. 

Until you feel something poking your thigh.

“Denki!” 

You yell, affronted he popped a boner in the middle of what was supposed to be a romantic moment.

“Sorry!”

“Ugh! Worst timing ever!” You slap his shoulder.

“Ow! I said I’m sorry!”

You wiggle out of his embrace. Silence eats at the room, and you can feel Denki’s energy radiating in uncomfortable frequencies. The last moment had been thoroughly ruined.

But you have all the time in the world to make more.

“... round two?” 

Just seeing Denki’s face light up like Christmas is enough to promise the birth of a new moment. He bends over to grab his box of condoms, some spilling on the floor and adding more to the mess, before saying, “hell yeah!”

You roll your eyes with affection. What a weirdo, you think. But he’s your weirdo.

That night, or rather the next day since it was currently three in the morning, Denki plops down on his bed exhausted from the day. He’s fluffing his pillow, trying to get comfortable, when he feels something underneath. His eyes widen when he takes in the picture he’s holding. You must’ve taken it when he was downstairs and snuck it under his pillow. You’re bent over with that same damn lacy bra that sends him for a loop. Your cleavage deliciously on display as you bite your lip and stare at the camera with those innocent eyes. Denki can’t help it, his hand sliding down on instinct and cupping himself through his boxers. He turns the picture around and smiles at the cute little message written on the back.

“To add to your collection 😉”

[hopeisour4letteredword]

with friends like these

Summary: Apollo gets his wisdom teeth out, and Clay babysits.

Link to AO3 in the notes.

"Apollo, buddy. Buddy. You gotta lie back down."

Apollo blinks owlishly at Clay, swaying in place in the middle of the kitchen. God, Clay would feel better if he at least had the sense to lean against the counter. "But I want coffee."

"No coffee for you," Clay says, forcing himself to be stern despite the dreading anticipation of the way Apollo's expression falls, comically sad. AJ always looks younger than he is, as a big brave twenty-year-old, but the sad little pout while he's out of his mind on painkillers, cheeks swollen from surgery? He looks like he's twelve. Adorable. Clay feels bad for him, he really does—he got his own wisdom teeth out last year and he remembers how much it sucked—but the little baby pout just makes him want to smile. "You'll wind yourself up something good, sunshine."

"It's not that much caffeine," Apollo tries to say, even as he lets Clay catch him by the arm and pull him, stumbling, out of the kitchenette. "An' it would make me feel more awake."

"You don't need to feel more awake, you need to rest."

"But I've got stuff to do," Apollo says, mournfully. Clay manages to wrangle him back over to the couch and nudge him back down onto the cushions. Apollo makes doe eyes up at him while Clay grabs the nearest blanket to wrap around his shoulders. "I gotta work on my readings—"

"It's winter break, you don't have readings."

"But next semester."

"You don't have any advance readings yet. You checked and told me so before the surgery."

"I have to stay ahead," Apollo says. His eyelids droop. "I gotta be good at my classes so I can be a good lawyer."

"You're gonna be a great lawyer. But you aren't a lawyer yet, and you don't have any classes right now, so just take it easy, okay?"

Apollo opens his eyes again to peer back up at Clay. "My mouth hurts."

"I know. Sorry, buddy. Not time for more painkillers yet. You want me to grab you the ice pack again? Get the rest of your shake?"

Apollo nods, still looking glum. Clay dutifully returns to the kitchen to retrieve an ice pack from the freezer, which he wraps in a kitchen towel, and the rest of Apollo's post-surgery chocolate shake out of the fridge. When he gets back out to the living room, Apollo has toppled over to be horizontal on the couch. Clay puts the necessities down on the coffee table and scoops Apollo's legs up onto the couch so he isn't twisted all funny. The last thing the poor thing needs is unnecessary strain making him uncomfortable. He ruffles Apollo's hair. Apollo leans into the touch. Aww.

"Anything else I can grab you?"

"Can you sit with me? I wanna watch you play games."

"Aw, sure. What do you wanna watch?"

"I dunno. Anything's fine."

"Let's play some Odyssey, then. I'll go grab the Switch."

Apollo brightens, just like Clay thought he would. He always did like playing on Clay's Switch when they were kids. Even for Clay, it's hard not to be transported back to sleepovers, hushed giggles as they tried not to tip Clay's dad off that they were staying up late while they played games under the covers, whenever he picks it back up to replay something. He knows the memories are even more precious to Apollo, who spent so much of his adolescence struggling through foster system bullshit.

"Yeah!"

"Okay, sit tight."

When Clay comes back, Apollo has propped himself up enough to try to drink more of his shake. It dribbles out of his mouth.

"Oh, man. You got a little, uh—"

Apollo looks frustrated. "Did I miss again? I still can't feel my lower lip."

"Yeah, no, it's, um—you're fine, just let me—" Clay grabs a tissue off the box on the coffee table and wipes Apollo's face. "There you go."

"Thanks," Apollo says. He smiles, wobbly but true. "You're the best."

"No problem, sunshine," Clay says, smiling. He moves around the room, getting the Switch hooked up to the port so it will show up on the TV, before he lifts Apollo's upper body out of the way so he can slide onto the couch with him. Apollo's head ends up propped on his thigh. He helps Apollo adjust himself so there's no pressure on his cheeks, and he can easily hold the ice packs in place while seeing the screen. "Here we go."

"Let's-a go," Apollo says, in a terrible Mario impression. Clay barks out a laugh and starts the game.

"Goofball."

They don't get very far into the game before Clay is pretty sure Apollo starts to doze beside him. His breathing evens out and his weight goes limp. That's fine. He's warm and cozy, and Clay likes being someone he feels comfortable enough with to sleep around. If this is helping him feel a little better while he's in pain, Clay's satisfied. It's not like it's a hardship to sit here and play video games and be his pillow.

But the fact that he thinks Apollo's mostly asleep does mean Clay almost gets the shit scared out of him when Apollo says, suddenly, "Clay."

"Jesus!" Clay fumbles a jump and Mario goes plummeting to his doom. Oops.

"Yes, hello, hi. I thought you were napping, buddy. What's up?"

"You know you're my best friend, right?"

"Yeah? Of course."

"You know?" Apollo rolls so he's mostly on his back, looking up at Clay with big, sad doe eyes again. Clay stares back down at him, befuddled. Of course he knows. "Cause I—I know I'm kinda bitchy sometimes—"

"Aw, Apollo—"

"An' I can't help you with your smart science stuff a lot—"

"That's not—"

"An' I get really anxious and you have to babysit me sometimes an' I yell at you for it—"

"Apollo—"

"But you're really important to me and it would suck if you didn't know just 'cause I'm stupid."

"You aren't stupid," Clay says. He ruffles Apollo's hair again. Apollo's eyes slide closed, lips tugging back into the miserable little pout. "I know I'm your best friend. You're plenty nice to me. Just 'cause you're a little prickly when you're stressed doesn't mean you don't make it obvious that you care about people."

Apollo sniffles. Oh, no. Case in point, though.

"And you don't have to worry about not helping me with science stuff," Clay adds. "I know I'm not that helpful with your law stuff, either. You're way better at helping me review than I am at helping you review."

At least that makes Apollo smile a little. "Jus' easier to read formulas off notecards than legal definitions."

"You can say that again." Clay will take astrophysics over civil law any day. "Besides, you're the best hype-man I could hope for. Who else is gonna get me super pumped to go to space even though it scares the piss out of you?"

"It's so high up," Apollo whines, making Clay cackle. He never thinks about fear of heights as an issue with spaceflight until Apollo mentions it. "An' there's the whole vacuum and no air and you're just going in a tin can—"

"Don't talk about my girl Hattie like that, she's perfect."

"An' even Mr. Starbuck is nervous about it."

"And you help Sol get psyched for it too," Clay says. He pats Apollo gently on the shoulder. "Which is exactly what I'm talking about."

Apollo sighs.

"I know we're best friends, sunshine," Clay adds, more gently. "Come on. You think I would agree to live with you if I didn't know you liked me? I bet you could pull some real passive-aggressive roommate pranks if you wanted to."

Apollo huffs out a tiny laugh. "Maybe."

"There we go. We're fine, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Say it with me. We're fine."

"We're fine."

"You're Apollo Justice and you're fine."

"I'm fine!"

"That's my boy." Mario has fallen asleep standing up on-screen. Clay is considering whether or not he should keep playing or encourage Apollo to go take a real nap when Apollo shifts beside him. Clay lifts his arms out of the way on instinct, holding the controller aloft, when Apollo braces himself on shaky arms to turn and crawl the rest of the way over to plop himself down in Clay's lap. "Wh-oa, buddy. Hi there. You want cuddles?"

"Yeah," Apollo mumbles. He drops his head onto Clay's shoulder. Clay carefully shifts his weight and settles down against the back of the couch, letting it take both of their weight. He doesn't think of Apollo as a big guy, because he's not, but geez. A whole adult human does kind of weigh a lot. Good thing Clay's been beefing up for his training. "Are you at the moon yet?"

"Nope. Only at the gardens. It hasn't been that long."

"You're gonna get to the moon someday," Apollo says, with loopy certainty. Clay almost bites down on a grin before he remembers that Apollo can't see him anymore and he can smile as much as he wants, safe from scrutiny. "You're gonna be a kickass astronaut."

"Aw, thanks, bud."

"You're really smart. And good at solving problems."

"Flatterer," Clay says, grin spreading wider. God, he wishes he'd thought to grab his phone and start recording this. Yeah, he does know he's Apollo's best friend and Apollo loves him and all that, but he sure as hell doesn't get this mushy often. It's really cute.

"You deserve it. You're the best friend in the world, Clay," Apollo declares, and promptly passes out on Clay's shoulder.

---

"Anyway," Clay finishes. He knocks back the rest of his mocha. "That's what AJ was like when he got his wisdom teeth out, so like I said. Don't be too embarrassed about it."

Klavier is laughing so hard he's almost crying, a hand slapped over his mouth to muffle the sound of it. Apollo's in the kitchen right now, cooking the three of them brunch. Hopefully the sizzle of frying eggs and sausage covers the sound of Clay's indiscretions out in the living room. Clay's dead meat if it doesn't.

"He never mentioned," Klavier manages to get out, when he finally gets himself under control. "How cute."

"It was pretty great," Clay says, fondly. "But please don't tell him I told you about that. I don't want to die before I make it to the moon, and he will actually kill me for realsies."

"Your secret is safe with me." Klavier props his chin on his hand, grinning. "Has he ever gotten quite so affectionate other times?"

"If he's drunk enough, yeah."

"I'll have to keep it in mind, then."

"S'why I told you," Clay says. He considers the sly, affectionate curl of Klavier's smile for a second before he adds, "But don't bully him too hard afterwards, or you will lose drunk Apollo privileges. Only moderate mortification allowed."

"Would he be taking the privileges away or would you?"

Clay lets his own smile go sharper. He likes Klavier just fine, and he doesn't really believe he'd be that mean to Apollo, but... well, Apollo's Clay's best friend, too. He has obligations if Apollo's boyfriend is an asshole to him. "Fuck around and find out."

"Fair enough, Herr Astronaut," Klavier says. There's a clatter of plates in the kitchen as the sizzling dies down.

"Food's ready!" Apollo hollers. Clay casts Klavier a glance; Klavier mimes zipping his lips, winking. They both push away from the table to wander into the kitchen. Apollo bustles around fixing a plate of food, a pile of hashbrowns and sausage and eggs. Klavier creeps up behind him and puts his hands over Apollo's hips. Apollo startles, almost knocking him away. His cheeks go pink.

"What do you think you're doing? Clay's literally right there."

"Don't mind me," Clay says, cheerfully. He loves having ammunition to give Apollo hell over later.

"I think he already has an inkling that we're dating, Liebling," Klavier murmurs. He leans down to kiss the top of Apollo's head. Apollo gently elbows him in the gut, pushing Klavier away as his cheeks go even redder.

"Yeah, and he's already insufferable enough about it without you hanging off me in front of him. Come on, back off."

Klavier obligingly steps back. He and Clay begin to fix their own plates. Hovering nearby, Apollo asks, suspiciously, "What were you two gossiping about out there, anyway?"

"Oh, nothing," Clay says. He smiles sweetly when Apollo narrows his eyes at him. "By the way, AJ?"

"What?"

"You're the best friend in the world."

[cunningambitousdetermined]

i need a plot for this

yall so ive been trying really hard to get back into writing and i went to a writing camp this summer. im going to post a poem that i wrote there later bc im super proud of it but right now i have something else i need help with. SO basically there was a prompt about someone finding a letter or a note. that’s the prompt. so i wrote something, really liked it BUT I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE TO TAKE IT FROM HERE. my basic ideas involve the two characters meeting each other again to do SOMETHING WHICH I DONT KNOW and slowly arcane (youll see when you read the story below) thaws and falls in love with kalon and kalon has always been in love with her and its like best friends to enemies to friends to lovers ya know? ANYWAY if you dont hate me for being inactive and needy, please read this and help me. 

Dear Arcane,

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? 10 years. Wow. I don’t even know if you’ll ever get this, you could’ve moved. You could be dead. Oh god, that’s dark. You’re not dead, someone would’ve told me, I’m sure. So that must mean that there’s a good chance you have this, but I’m not even sure if you’ll read it.

He was right, as he most often was. Arcane had not planned to read the letter from the moment she read her name on the envelope, written in a neat sort of messy handwriting that could only come from one person. The letter had been sitting at her desk for a week before memories began to drown her and she knew she had to open it.

That’s not the point though, I’m sure you’ll read this. You’ve always been a sucker for the intimacy of written letters. Maybe that’s why I wrote to you instead of calling.

Arcane closed her eyes, the pounding of the memories at the door slowly consuming her. She took a deep breath and let them in. The whispers started to fill the room, every word echoing off the walls, like her past had become a living, breathing thing in her room. How could he write her now? After all these years. Anger reared it's small head in the back of her mind. How could he be so casual as if he wasn't the boy who ripped her heart out and tore it to pieces. 

Maybe it’s because I did read all the letters you wrote to me. Even after the voicemails stopped filling my phone and the emails ran dry, your letters kept coming.

She remembers writing those letters, the pen shaking in her hand as it hit the paper. She remembers wondering what you said to someone like him, a friend who left you behind. The squeeze in her chest that tightened each time he didn’t reply. The break in her heart when the last letter she ever wrote was returned to her doorstep.

If you’ve read this far without tearing my letter to pieces, then I would say this is a good start to our reunion. I’ve missed you. Your stubborn ways, always trying to keep me safe. But you always came with me wherever I went anyway. I miss your secret smile, the one you saved just for me. The treehouse we built in your yard. Do you miss that? I wonder if you wonder about me. I wonder if I can even ask that of you.

She did miss them. But, those things that she missed were long gone. The treehouse was overgrown with vines, Arcane was sure you couldn’t even get into it anymore. She went with him on his stupid adventures because what would she do if he left and met new people? He would leave her and she would be alone. So she desperately followed him blindly, hoping it would keep him close. Arcane missed her secret smile, the genuine one she had always saved for him. He missed it. How could he miss something that he destroyed. With his one and only letter to her, he demolished any leftover love for him that hid in her heart. He couldn’t ask if Arcane wondered about him. That wasn’t fair. That night, ten years ago, was still a raw wound in her soul that she was pretty sure would never heal.

~

The rain was relentless that night, banging against every edge of the house, but a little girl was waiting by the door, not even flinching as the lightning and thunder clapped furiously. Arcane peeked her head above the window frame to find the mailman running through the storm, his frantic steps pounding through the floor of the house. Her eyes lit up with a hope that was slowly fading with each mail drop. She opened the door and hid the small smile that started to spread up her face with a cough.

“Hi, Dan!” Arcane’s voice gave away the excitement that was flooding her system.

“Hey, Arcane.” Dan couldn’t help the pitiful grin that he gave her. She waited by the door for him every day and each day there was no letter for her. It must be soul-crushing, he thought, waiting for a letter that never comes.

“Is there…?” Arcane was practically on her tiptoes at this point. Dan rifled through the letters, dread settling as her name wasn’t there. Again. And then there was a squeal. “Oh, Dan! I found it! I knew- I knew it- I told them!” Her sentences didn’t even come out fully as she beamed, her smile brighter than any ray of the sun.

Arcane had run into the house, a breeze following in her wake. Plopping down into the soft plush couch, she ripped open the envelope, not caring about the paper that flew everywhere in the room. A paper fluttered out, floating toward the ground. Arcane grabbed it, hands shaking, she could practically feel the sweat dripping down her face. Words were the easiest way to break someone. The letter only contained eleven words, yet they would stick with her for the rest of her life.

Stop writing me. None of it was real. You were nothing.

Eleven words. And they shattered her. Crumbling, shattering, a million pieces breaking. Sobs racked through her whole body, her chest shaking and trembling with each broken breath. She caught her face in the mirror hanging off the pale wall and didn’t recognize the girl that stared back. You were nothing. A scream tore through her, the ache of her heart so raw that even the sun seemed to cry, rain dripping onto the panes of the windows. And slowly, so very slowly, Arcane buried the ache and gathered the shattered pieces of her heart and encased them in an impenetrable cage, never to opened again.

~

The ache was still present now, ten years after the letter had arrived. The dullness of her buried hurt made her clench her fists around the letter that sat in her hand now, the same lopsided handwriting adorning it.

But, that’s not why I’m writing this letter. I’m writing this with an actual purpose, if you can imagine that. I didn't just write to rehash our friendship. 

Arcane could feel her eyes narrowing, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the inanimate piece of paper. An actual purpose? To break her heart all over again? This time she did roll her eyes, even though no one was there to see it. But, it wasn’t the fact that he wrote her after all these years or that his tone was friendly throughout that made her body freeze. It was the last line that had the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention.

In all the years that Arcane had known him, he'd never been very dependent. He often just struggled in silence and figured them out on his own. Not once, not ever, had has asked for help. But, there the sentence was inked in his slanted, loopy writing. 

I need your help.

Love,

Kalon

  ~~everything below here is stuff that doesnt have to be a part of the story but i still liked it and where it was going (idk please give me ideas)~~

The quiet, shock of the room seemed to weigh on Arcane. She flopped back onto her bed, the soft pillows cushioning her landing. I need your help. Those few, simple words, tugged at the strings that bound her heart. He needed her. The thought was fleeting as just as quickly as it came, it left. In its spot was anger. Now he needed her? After all those years when she needed him? What did he do then? Nothing. And that’s what she was going to do now. She huffed in satisfaction, tossing the envelope to the side. Her fingers reached into her hair, massaging her head. There were too many things to think about right now. Arcane squeezed her eyes shut as memories stung her eyes in the form of tears. 

~

“Please, don’t leave me.” Arcane had whispered, her small breaths filling the one room of the treehouse. 

“I don’t have a choice. You know I don’t want to go.” Kalon’s voice broke and he looked away so Arcane couldn’t see the tears in his eyes. It was silent. 

“We’ll still be best friends right?” 

“Yeah.” Kalon’s reply didn’t hold much conviction, causing Arcane to look over at him, confused, glossy eyes narrowing. 

“To the moon and back, Kal, remember?” She said, her tone desperate. It was a promise they made one night as they were watching some cheesy movie on the old television set. The boy had told the girl that he loved her too ‘the moon and back’. Kalon had then explained that the two characters said that so that they would never be apart. They could meet at the same moon, always and then they could go back. And then, they would never be fully apart. Arcane had liked that. So naturally,  she had grabbed Kal’s face and made him promise that they would go ‘to the moon and back’ if they were ever apart. It became a goodbye for them, a way of saying ‘I’ll see you soon’. 

“Yeah,” Kal had replied, a smile barely curling through his lips, “I’ll race ya there.”

~

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, letting her memories flow down her cheeks and into the bedsheets, but eventually she had to get up. She pulled herself up and off the bed, limbs protesting at the use. She just needed a few days is all, then she wouldn’t even remember what she was crying for.  Kalon didn’t mean anything to her anymore.

thank you for reading this far, i love all of you. just throw out ideas please. or give me some advice, i would love that. whether its about my writing or the plot i would love to have tips and constructive criticism on how to get better! tagging some moots who i hope dont hate me after this below the cut:

@natashxromanovf @pad-foots @griffxnnage @voidmalfoy @flxss-bxbblxs @alwaysreading @herondalesunsetcurve THANKS YALL I LOVE YOU MORE THEN I EXPRESS AND I DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT DESERVE ALL OF YOU AND YOUR LOVE

[lilacpotter]

Two hearts in one home

Isak watched the TV tediously. His eyes barely fluttering as a scene from an old 90’s played on the screen. His shoulders were tense, and his jaw clicked every now and then because of him grinding his teeth absently. There was an unknown kind of strain to the silence in the flat.

 He shifted himself on the couch, his chest hinting at a dull ache as he did so. And he sighed, trying to ease the uncomfortable feeling there which had taken shelter since that morning.

That bright morning when he got the dreadful notification.

  He sighed again, longer this time. And jerked suddenly when he heard the front door opening.

It was only Even though. Only him. His flatmate.

His only flatmate.

But hell, he didn’t have to be this gorgeous.

Isak watched Even stumble into the house with messy hair and a strong smell of coffee that followed along after him. Even worked at a coffee shop. As a barista.  

“Oh hey, Isak.” Even greeted with that smile that always turned Isak into a soft mush from the inside.

“Hi,” Isak squeaked back, and sat a bit more straighter, bringing his legs closer. He was suddenly more nervous than before.

As he everyday was, whenever he had to talk to Even, or even look at him. At his eyes. Which were the reflection of a perfect spring sky.

How was he always so happy? Always smiling?

Even proceeded to remove his wrist watch and walk past him, giving Isak another smile as he did so.

The next few minutes saw Isak silently observing the sound of shower turn on, the voice of water drizzling. And he sighed. Why did he pine after Even so much?

Because he looks beautiful. Because he treats you so well. Because he is the man of your literal dreams.

 Isak groaned silently. He was suddenly thankful for Jonas and his friends not suspecting his crush on Even.

Isak had moved into this flat eight months ago.

Before that, Even and his girlfriend lived here- like an actual couple. Until they then started having fights frequently and his girlfriend moved out.

 Isak didn’t know much about her, but he heard that Even and her had broken up a month he after had moved in.

Even and him never talked that much. Their talks always consisted of how their day went, how they were doing. Isak knew Even was in Uni first year, and Even knew Isak was still in school. But they never exchanged anything more than that. Isak hadn’t even known what Even majored in, he got to know it from a very embarrassing amount of time that he spent stalking Even on the net.

 Though they had never properly sat and exchanged conversations, there were moments which Isak couldn’t explain himself. Like the time when Even spotted him at a random party making out with a guy, and they both had stared at each other for such a long time with an unknown intensity that Isak’s hookup snapped at him for paying zero attention and left him. Or the time when Even introduced himself as Isak’s boyfriend to the douche at the bar who was trying to forcefully hit on Isak.

Isak couldn’t understand. What made Even do all this?

  Isak hid himself in the room the first couple of months he arrived here, because he couldn’t stand all the butterflies that materialized in his tummy every time Even smiled at him. He couldn’t stand how his knees felt like giving out whenever Even and him stumbled into each other in their little flat, or how he blushed bright red whenever Even accidentally touched his hand while handing out the dishes or things. It was unfair.

He used to catch Even sneak glances at him every now and then. Or share his leftover dinner whenever Isak was too tired to make himself something to eat. Or making sure that Isak was always comfortable around the flat. And it made Isak feel like exploding out in happiness. It made him hope there could be something between them. Something more.

  But then, he watched as Even started disappearing off at nights, not making it home for several days and returning back home tired. And Isak wondered if he was seeing someone. He often heard a young female voice coming from the inside whenever he walked past Even’s room late at night or in the afternoons during weekends. There would even be little notes left on the kitchen table next day, stuck on the fridge or by the front door with loopy handwriting, addressed to Even. Isak never read them. They weren’t for him.

Even was probably seeing someone. Who wouldn’t want to date someone who looked like that?

And it hurt. A lot. At first.

But then, Isak got used to it gradually. Got used to Even skipping dinner and nights at their home- their flat. His heart kept aching. How was he so foolish? How could he even expect? Even wasn’t into him. Could never be. It was all just fun. Even could never like him that way. Isak ignored the sneaky glances or shy smiles that were directed at him from then on. Whatever. Even didn’t mean them that way.

  “Isak, you didn’t have dinner?” Even’s concerned voice broke Isak out of his reverie. And he looked around to find Even standing by the kitchen door, a hand at his hip.

“Uh, no. No, I didn’t.” Isak stammered, flushing.

Even pulled his eyebrows together before walking in towards where Isak was sitting. He placed his hands on the cushion’s top and leaned in. They were so close.

“Why didn’t you?” Even asked, looking worried. “Are you feeling alright?” He made a move to touch Isak’s forehead but Isak moved back quickly away from him.

Even’s face dropped at that, and he took his hand back with a ‘sorry,’ and god, Isak was such an ass, wasn’t he?

“Uhm, yeah. I’m alright.” Isak said quickly. “Just nervous I guess.”

Even frowned. “Nervous?”

“Uhm, yeah. I am getting my final’s results tomorrow morning.” Isak shrugged, looking down when he realized he had been lost in Even’s eyes again.

Even looked thoughtful for a moment. “I see.” Then, “Would you like to eat something now though?”

Isak could explode at their proximity. Even’s face was so close to him, they could kiss.

“Yes,” Isak replied, dizzy, then watched Even’s lips quirk into a smile as he moved away from him, breaking whatever spell was on till now.

“I’m going to make dinner for us both. And you are not stopping me this time.” He beamed before disappearing off into the kitchen, leaving Isak dumbstruck.

.

 Twenty minutes later, Even reappeared with two plates of delicious looking chicken and waffles. Damn.

  “Here,” Even handed him over the plate and sat beside him. Beside Isak.

“For me?” Isak asked, impressed at the food and its smell. He sniffed the air around like a mouse, making Even chuckle in amusement.

“Of course. Dig in.” Even beamed, taking a bite of his own.

The food smelled delicious, so delicious that Isak’s mouth watered embarrassingly for every bite he took and he almost moaned out loud at the taste. Holy shit.

The first couple of minutes were filled with pure awkwardness. Both of them remained silent, occasionally glancing at each other and then looking away with a small smile. They both sat there like two tensed up statues, and Isak kept biting his lip every now and then, internally making up a whole imaginary conversation with Even.

What was he supposed to say. The food is great? Fuck no, that wouldn’t be enough. I love your food?

Nah. That sounds stupid. Isak would never say that.

How are you?  But it was all they ever asked each other.

But then, Even spoke, rescuing Isak from his internal panic.

  “So,” He started, glancing at Isak shyly. Why did he look shy? “Finals, then?”

Oh.

Isak had almost forgotten about that.

Almost.

“Yes,” he said, biting his lip nervously. He watched Even follow the moment out of the corner of his eye. “The results are tomorrow. I think I did alright.”

 Even hummed to himself, nodding. And Isak waited for him to ask what he was studying. Everyone’s next question was always that. What do you study? And when Isak replied with Biophysics, their reaction was always the same. Wide eyes, and impressed faces. Sometimes Isak wondered if all those people who kept hitting him up every now and then only talked to him because he was a smart ass. No, what the fuck, Isak. Who calls themselves a smartass?

Isak was used to those questions, so that’s why, when Even’s next words were, “I used to see you around the campus, you know. Last year.” his eyes practically bulged out of their sockets.

“Uh what?” He said, dumbfounded.

 Even laughed at his reaction, melting Isak from the inside. “Yes, I was a third year at your school last year. I transferred schools because uh, of some stuff.” He shrugged. “And redid my third year media studies at your school.” He looked to Isak with a smile.

What the fuck.

“The fuck?” Isak spluttered. “How did I not notice you?” With a face like that.

Even laughed again, fondly as if Isak was being precious. His eyes crinkled. “Well, you were always pretty nose-deep into your science books. Of course you couldn’t see me.” He said. “You were a nerd then.” He added. “You still are, always holed up in your room.”

Isak couldn’t believe this. “I’m not a nerd!” He protested instead, feeling outraged and smiling at the same time.

“Yes, you are. What’s wrong in being a nerd?” Even challenged him with an eyebrow raise. He looked ridiculous. The hell was happening?

“Everything!” Isak said. “Nerds are not cool. I am the coolest. I can’t be a nerd.”

Even shook his head, grinning. “Yeah, sure.”

“What? You don’t believe me?” Isak asked. “I am the master of being cool. Ask my friends.”

“Okay, Mr. Cool,” Even laughed, clutching his stomach, and Isak flipped him off with an affronted grin.

“Fuck off.”

“sorry” another laugh. Holy fuck.

Isak couldn’t believe this.

.

 “You have something on your mouth.” Even pointed out with his finger.

They both were practically touching each others’ sides by now. A while had passed, and Isak was feeling very relaxed by now. Like a cat relaxing on a soft cushion. He could purr out loud.

Maybe it was Even’s aura that calmed him down, or maybe it was because they had been talking a lot, bantering. Whatever it was, Isak was feeling oddly comfortable. He wished he could always attach himself to Even wherever he went, like the child of a hydra, or a like viscum album, the parasite.

 Isak turned his face up to Even, not that he hadn’t been staring at him till now from the corner of his eye, but Isak had a reason to actually look at Even’s face now, without it being creepy.

“Oh,” he whispered, and rubbed the back of his palm across his mouth to wipe whatever it was. “Has it gone?”

 Even was still looking at him, at his lips. “Uh, no. Wait.” He leaned in forward and brought his thumb to Isak’s lips. Isak held his breath. Oh. Even wiped the corner of Isak’s lip gently, and while he did so, their eyes met again, and there was an unknown feeling to Even’s blue eyes. They almost looked longing, a bit sad maybe. Before Isak could properly decipher what it meant and catch his breath, Even pulled his thumb away.

“It was sauce.” He said, wiping it on a tissue.

Isak licked his lips. “Oh, thanks,” he said, shy all of a sudden.

For some reason, Even’s face looked red, flushed. Why?

“You have nice lips.” He said, glancing at Isak’s lips once more.

Wha- Isak choked on his food, and his throat burned. Even shifted closer immediately to pat him on the back.

“Shit, are you okay? Do you need water?”

Isak shook his head at his worried tone. “N-no. I’m okay. Just.” You can’t just blurt out things to me like that.

Isak calmed down few minutes later, and Even was still watching him. A guilty look on his face.

You have nice lips.

Isak kept repeating it in his mind like a mantra, to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. You have nice lips. Even had just said that to him. Isak blushed.

 You have nice lips too.

 “So, is the food okay?”Even asked a few minutes later, and not until a few seconds after did Isak realize he had been staring at Even till now.

Fuck. He looked down to his plate, blushing again. “Uh, yeah. It’s awesome.”  

Even smiled. “Yeah?”

Isak gave a nod to him before taking another bite. “Not better than what I make for myself everyday though.” He shrugged.

“Oi,” Even widened his eyes dramatically. “Liar.”

Isak scoffed. “Liar? Me? What are you talking about?”

“You are comparing this to a buttered toast?”

“Fuck you. It tastes alright. Besides, I can make so much more.” Isak argued back playfully.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Even shifted bit closer, his hand falling beside Isak’s.

“Why should I tell you?” Isak muttered, flustered.

“See? You can’t even lie to make up yourself. Not cool, Isak.” Even shook his head as if he was disappointed.

Isak wanted to scream. “Fuck off.”

“Just accept I make better food.” Even said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Never.” Isak bit back. But he was grinning too.

“We should have a challenge someday then,” Even suggested, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, we should.”

“You will lose. Really badly.” Even warned him, and Isak felt Even’s hand shift a little beside his’. Their pinkies were touching each other.

“I will show you by winning then,” Isak shrugged. And he moved his hand a little too, tentatively, trying to gauge Even’s reaction when he laced their little fingers.

Even’s face showed none, and even if he did notice it, he was very good at keeping a straight face.

“Isak, you are living a lie if you think you will win.” Even teased him, shifting a bit more closer. Isak’s pulse raced.

“Okay, then. Let’s see during the day of challenge.” Isak raised his chin slightly, not too much as to convey something else to Even. Just enough to show that he was being smug, not asking for a kiss.

Even gave him a brief shrug. “Alright then. Prepare to lose. I’ll fix the date soon.” He said with a grin.

Isak nodded back.

 Somehow, the thought of Even seeing that mysterious someone felt foreign to him now. Maybe it was just something Isak had made up in his head. Maybe she wasn’t his girlfriend. Maybe.. maybe she was his ex? There were so many possibilities, and Isak felt at peace for once. He couldn’t really tell the reason why, but his heart felt full.  

And if both their fingers were laced tightly an hour later, their linked hands resting on the tiny space between them, then no one needed to talk about it, or even acknowledge it for that matter.

 They could just carry on their conversation without making a big deal of it.

 .

  “How did you know I didn’t have dinner?” Isak suddenly asked out of blue.

Isak had no idea how or when this happened, but somehow him and Even both were almost on top of each other now, the plates were empty and Isak had his head on Even’s shoulder. On his shoulder. The taller boy meanwhile had his arm around Isak’s back casually. They both were almost snuggling on the couch lazily.

It had been what? Three hours? Four hours? Isak had no idea, all he could see and hear was Even, Even, Even. He was drunk on Even’s voice and gazes.

They talked about Isak’s classes, teachers, friends, and the silly jokes. About Even’s projects at Uni, cooking and parents. They mulled about their interests, passions, theories.

Isak told him about the parallel universes and the conversation turned dark until Even broke the tension off by promising to make a movie on them both with a stupid title.

They wrestled when Even kept teasing Isak about his sneaking off to his room with a blush on his cheeks everyday as soon as Even entered home every evening. Home. Not flat.

They laughed together when Even shared that he secretly liked gabrielle’s music and danced to it every chance he got.

They had talked so much that Isak barely recognized himself before this evening. Why did he avoid Even till now? With every banter they had, Isak felt himself only falling deeper for this boy. For this ridiculous, handsome, dorky boy.

 Even looked into his eyes with a smile, tilting his face, and Isak could feel Even’s breath hitting his cheek lightly.

“Because the groceries you bought for yourself yesterday remained intact.” He replied.

“You checked my shelf?” Isak frowned.

“No, you kept them in the fridge, remember?” Even pointed out.

And oh, yes Isak remembered.  How did Even know about where he kept his groceries? Did he always observe him? Fuck.

Isak blushed.

“I might have snooped in a bit through the dishes too.” Even continued. “I apologize for this uh, but I have this habit of checking up every night if you had dinner or not.” He added timidly.

You make sure I have dinner every night?

Fucking hell.

Isak wished he could kiss him right then and there. He was the man of his dreams, life, everything.

“I wish I could kiss you.” He blurted out to Even all of a sudden.

Silence. A painful pause.

One, two, three..

The seconds ticked by and both of them stared at each other as silent as a rock. Isak’s mouth was shut with shock.

The horror dawned upon him. He had just said that.  Fuck.  

What the fuck, Isak. Just what the hell!

“No, uh, no, I didn’t mean that! I wasn’-” Isak lifted his head off Even’s shoulder abruptly, his face a bright red as he stumbled on his own words. “Sorry, shit, fuck. I didn’t mean-”

“-You didn’t mean to say that?” Even cut him off with a look that couldn’t be deciphered by Isak.

“What?” Isak said, dumbfounded.

“You didn’t mean to say those words to me?” Even said again, his face was somehow much, much closer than before, and it was getting very hard for Isak to breathe.

“uh, no, no? No!” Isak shook his head intensely. “Of course not. I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry! I’m just stupid. I never meant to- Fucking hell!”

He paused his garbling for a second and just looked. He gasped when he realized Even was this close to him. So close. Isak couldn’t help but glance at his lips every now and then.

When he noticed Even doing the same while licking his lips, he felt butterflies in his tummy. What.

Were they.. Were they going to kiss now?!

 Isak shivered from his head to toe embarrassingly.

No, this couldn’t be happening. Even wasn’t into him. What the hell. Was Isak having hallucinations?

Even’s eyes darted from Isak’s eyes to his lips, and was that a blush on his cheeks?

They both were breathing heavily, beads of sweat forming on each others’ foreheads. And Even leaned in much further into his space.

Shit. Isak gulped. They were going to kiss. Even was going kiss him. Gosh.

Even leaned into him, closer.

How? Why? What was happening? All these questions flew out of Isak’s mind the moment he could lightly touch Even’s chapped lips.

  They were about to kiss, and Isak was just about to taste the sweet skin of Even’s lips when the taller boys’ phone rang. Loud and breaking the dead silence like a glass shattering to pieces when falling to the floor.  

  They broke apart suddenly with a gasp, and Isak could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He and Even stared at each other for a beat too long before the taller boy turned away to find his phone.

 “Marie?” Even said, blinking excessively and Isak watched him from his place. His face was hot, and he knew he must have turned red.  Fucking hell.

They were about to kiss. Kiss.

“Oh, shit.” Even muttered, checking the time on his watch. Isak did too. It was past eleven thirty.

Who was Marie?

In the dead of silence, Isak could hear the light voice of the female speaking on the other line. And it sounded similar though Isak couldn’t understand the words.

Isak’s pulse was still racing, and he wanted to disappear.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Even suddenly said, glancing at Isak with what seemed guilt on his face. He got up from the couch and paced around in worry.

Isak watched him with a frown. What was happening.

“But it’s so late now, Marie. Can’t we do this tomorrow?”

Pause. Do what tomorrow?

“Are you kidding? A month? You will be gone for a whole month? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Pause.

“But you can’t just do that. You know- you know I need you.”

Isak’s frown deepened, but for some reason, his heart ached. Who was this Marie? Why would Even need her?

“You never said you would leave me like this.” Even said, and he sounded tired, sad a little.

Pause.

“I can’t stay this long without you here, Marie..” Even’s voice dropped when he said the last sentence. “No, I can’t! I can’t find someone else. I won’t find someone else as good as you.” Even argued.

And it made Isak even more suspicious and worried. His pulse was racing for a different reason now.

Even gave a small, fond chuckle then.

Was she..

Isak’s heart started breaking.

“Fuck. Okay, I’m coming. Yeah. Bye. Love, ya.” Even hung the call up the same moment Isak realized who that voice belonged to. It was the same one that he used to hear often from Even’s room often. Same one who left notes for Even early morning.

The same one who Isak never got to see.

The very same one.

Marie was her name.

And she was Even’s….

  “I’m sorry, Isak. I have to go.” Even said, looking torn and guilty as if he was regretting. Regretting what? Regretting trying to kiss Isak? Or regretting that he had tried to make a move on Isak while already seeing someone else?

“I just, uh, it’s kinda important?” Even said, already putting on his watch and shoes. “I have to go. I’ll uh, return back in-” the morning?

  “-It’s okay, Even.” Isak cut him off sharply. Even looked up at him in surprise at his tone. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything. It’s your life. You don’t have to apologize or explain.” Isak shrugged, all the while his heart shattered inside him.

Even was good at breaking hearts. And Isak was good at getting his hopes up.  

 “I understand. Or, not really. Who cares? But, maybe just, could you maybe warn me that you are seeing someone the next time you try doing something like this with me? Because I don’t think have much self-control around you and I don’t really like people who cheat. So, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life regretting for taking bad decisions.” Isak’s voice broke at the end, and he knew he was going to break down any moment.

Even watched him dumbly, as if he couldn’t understand a thing Isak was saying.

“Just please don’t try to play me again.” Isak said, getting up from the couch, thanking whoever Gods there were for stopping the almost-kiss at the right time before it became a mess.

“Isak, wait-”

Isak turned to Even once more when he reached the room of his door. “-No, Even. It’s okay. If I could, I would have just moved out of this house right now. But I don’t have anywhere else to go. So guess I’ll have to stay here.” He cut Even off. “Goodnight. You are getting late to your girlfriend’s house.”

And with that, Isak left Even standing blankly in the living room. The moment he shut the door of his room, Isak broke down. He was a mess.

His heart was a mess. His life felt like a lie. So unfair.

Isak spent the rest of the night sniffling, and breaking down every once a while.  Fuck Even. Fuck his charms and games. Just fuck everything.

 .

   The next morning, Isak woke up to a slight headache and a dozen of delicious smells coming from the kitchen. He got up, squinting at the bright sunlight.

The curiosity drove him to the source immediately.

There wasn’t anyone, but the table had a plate filled with some really amazing looking fried eggs, bacon, toast, veggies and a drink on the side. There was a folded note beside it, and Isak immediately recoiled, thinking of last night. His eyes were puffed up, and he was sporting a snotty nose.

Fuck no. He couldn’t deal with this anymore.

He was over that shit.

Fucking Marie or whoever must have returned back to here with Even. They both probably must have spent the whole night in Even’s room. Good for them.

 Had Even planned to break him apart like this from the beginning? Had they both planned together? Did he like watching Isak get hurt and cry? Was Even a monster beneath all those bright, happy and kind layers of him?

  Isak shook himself out of those painful thoughts and decided to just dig through his shelf and make food for himself.

He was about to walk away when he noticed the handwriting, it wasn’t loopy like it always was. It was different, and then Isak noticed his name at the top.

  To, Isak

To him?

Isak frowned as he took the note out and opened it, it was big.

 Isak, I’m sorry. I’m sorry last night had to go the way it went. But I think it was better we didn’t kiss, or take it any further.It could have been a bigger mess by now. I should have asked you first. I know, I’m a douche. But I was barely thinking.

I can’t ever think clearly when you are around me. It sounds cheesy, straight out of a movie, but it’s true. I have wanted you since the first I saw you at the campus. You were like this reincarnation of the sun.

But I had Sonja then, and I couldn’t think of you that way. It would be unfair to you and her. But you turning up a year later at my flat… coincidence? I didn’t think so.  

It was a nightmare to live so close to you yet feel so far away. It hurt whenever I found you hooking up with someone else at parties. It hurt. Because I want you, Isak.

And I am not seeing anybody. Never saw anybody else since you moved into my flat and all I could see was you. I am bipolar. And Marie is my therapist, she’s one of my blood relatives too! And she’s happily married to her husband of five years. Isn’t that cute?

She turns up at my flat every now and then to check up on me, and makes sure to leave notes as she leaves the flat a while later for me to remember drink enough water the next morning, eat certain food, avoid others. She is travelling abroad with her husband for a month from today, and that’s why I needed to go see her one last time before she got on her flight this morning. I recovered from an episode recently, as you might have guessed from all the times I wasn’t at home. I spent the days at my parents whenever it got too bad. So it always calms me down whenever I go see my therapist. She had actually been suggesting me to go find a new therapist, but it isn’t really possible, or helpful, because she knows me so well, and I don’t think someone else might be able to help me out while  she’s not here. No therapist knows me as good as her.

Okay lol. I ranted a lot there.

But, yeah. Marie isn’t my girlfriend. The thought of it scarred me for life.

So yes, there, I told you my secret. I couldn’t muster up the guts to tell you face-to-face and so I wrote this note. You can call it a cheesy letter if you want though ;D

Isak, I’m sorry. Once again. I like you a lot. I think I am in love with you. Fuck, I’m sorry if this is all scaring you. It’s more than okay if you don’t like me back. It’s okay. I’m used to people leaving me.  

I just wanted to clarify things with you. And if you are feeling uncomfortable in any way, I’ll try searching up a safe flat share where you can live, away from me. Without anymore of my bullshit.

Lots of Love,

Even.  

P.S : The food is for you. I know you can’t make tasty food for shit.

   .

 Isak felt numb for several minutes as soon as he completed reading the letter.

Then came the feelings: regret, guilt, sadness, anger at himself. How stupid was he?

Why did he never take his time to ask Even about where he was heading to? Fuck.

Isak dropped onto his chair and held his head. He hated himself.

Even. Even was never even seeing anybody, he.. he was after Isak all this time. Isak couldn’t believe it. Just couldn’t.

But it was true. Even had said so himself. It felt like a dream come true. It was a dream come true.

Isak grabbed the letter again and re-read it. Again and again until every word Even had written had registered in his mind.

Even was bipolar. Marie is his therapist. And he thought he might be in love with Isak?

  Isak couldn’t believe it. I might be in love with you too.

So the almost-kiss wasn’t a hallucination, and all the strange gazes from Even in the past and yesterday were.. because of this. Because he liked Isak. He wanted Isak.

 Isak finished his breakfast, slowly enjoying every bite just as his broken heart felt like blooming again. Everything seemed to be mending back slowly, and Isak could barely feel the hurt from previous night.

But he did feel the guilt, for not talking to Even and instead making his own assumptions in his head.  

He grabbed Even’s letter and read it once more (with a blush this time) before stuffing it into his pocket. He had been so foolish, god. He felt bad wondering how nervous Even might have been while writing this letter.

An hour later, after regretting his words from the previous night a thousand times and hating himself for it, and exploding over the fact that Even had just confessed to him in a letter, Isak got up from his chair to walk back into his room, and that’s when the front door opened and in walked Even.

His heart did a happy flip in his chest at Even’s beam.

“Halla,”

“Halla,”

They both stood awkwardly by the kitchen door, glancing at each other shyly. Even’s eyes darted from the kitchen table to Isak’s pocket where a yellow strip of his letter was visible outside.

Isak watched Even’s cheeks bloom a lovely pink. “You, uh, you read the le-”

“-Yes, I did, Even.” Isak interrupted him.

“Oh,”

Another awkward pause.

“Um, so I was thinking,” Even started then, slowly, as if he was choosing his words carefully. “Why don’t we spend some time at the garden, this evening?” he looked up at Isak nervously. “I mean, for fun. We could get to know each other more. It doesn--”

“Like a date?” Isak smiled.

Even’s eyes widened. But he nodded nevertheless, slowly. “Yes, like a date.” Pause. “Would you, uh, like that? I mean, uh, you don’t have to. I was just, fuck. It’s okay if you don’t want that. You might not want to date me because of my bipolar. It’s ok-”

“-Even!” Isak cut him off again with grin. His boy was an adorable dork “Yes, I would like that.”

Even watched him as if he couldn’t believe this was happening. “huh” He said.

“I said I would like that.” Isak said, sounding more firm. “I want to date you. Your bipolar doesn’t change anything.”

Even’s eyes widened in shock and surprise. “Yeah?” Isak couldn’t mistake the smile in his voice.

“Yes,”  He nodded. “It’s a date.”

“It’s a date.”

    None of them had any idea who made a move first, but soon, they were kissing. Gentle and full kisses turned to long and passionate. Their hands roamed each others’ bodies in shy curiosity, loving exploration.

And soon their whole morning was spent in Isak’s bed, rolling around and discovering the others’ pleasures and secrets.

  And if both of them forgot about their date at the garden that evening, and instead spent the whole day cooking, teasing, bantering, being a sappy domestic couple, and celebrating the results of Isak’s finals, then no one needed to know.

[dawnsedits]

Bumbling Babbling

It's been three days since Chuck was taken. Three days of fruitless searching. Three days since John had heard that idiot babbling on about something.

He didn't expect to miss it - to miss him - this much.

A/N: Set vaguely in late s2 or beyond bc I’ve only seen through 2x20

Casey & Chuck, Casey & Sarah ~ 1.6k ~ AO3

John prowled the pristine corridors of the Fulcrum facility, grip taut on his gun, sweeping around corners with as much haste as he could manage while maintaining caution. Urgency vibrated through his veins, pushing him to run, to crash through every locked door he passed, and it took every ounce of training and control he possessed not to become like the blundering, overeager idiot he was currently searching for.

Chuck.

An unwanted pang of worry shot through him, his earpiece seeming all too eerily quiet without his awkward, panicked babbling crackling through it.

Four days ago, with the moron safely tucked away in the van, he would’ve cracked a sarcastic comment about enjoying that peace.

Three days ago, with his protectee’s screams echoing in his ears, he had vowed – silently – to try appreciating the rambling even a tiny bit if they could just get him back.

“Come on, Bartowski,” he muttered, slipping into a staircase after clearing another floor. “Where are you?”

On the next floor, a guard waited for him on the other side of the door. John dispatched him an instant, slamming his gun into his face, having no patience today for any delays in his mission. Leaving the body in the stairwell, he continued on his way, gritting his teeth as time ticked away and he still found no clues as to Chuck’s whereabouts.

This was our last lead. If he’s not here…

He shook his head sharply, banishing the thought. Failure is not an option. He’s here.

He has to be.

He shoved down memories of the last three days, of the shimmering tears Sarah tried to hide, of the midnight sobs she thought he couldn’t hear, and stepped around another corner.

A dead end with a single door guarded by four very large men greeted him.

In the split second they were caught unawares, he ducked back into the shelter of the wall, firing off several shots in rapid succession, the gunfire accentuated by the sound of two bodies dropping to the floor. “Bartowski!” he yelled. “You in there?”

No one answered him.

If they killed him…

No. He’s too valuable.

But if they hurt him-

A well-aimed shot blasted his gun out of his hand. He jerked back with a hiss, shaking out the stunned appendage, but before he could take a breath, a meaty fist wrapped around his arm and yanked him around the corner, hurling him to the ground. He skidded, his breath knocked out of him in a rush of air, his shoulder banging into the door to stop him.

Ow.

The second remaining guard aimed his gun at John’s head, the ominous click of it cocking echoing around him. “Awww, you almost got to your friend,” he mocked. “Too bad all he’ll get to see is your dead body.”

John surged to his feet with a roar, tackling the guard, the gun flying out of his grip and down the corridor. “I don’t think so,” he snarled.

The second guard lunged for him, and John reacted on instinct, flipping instantly into battle mode. He let loose his pent-up rage and frustration, finally channeling it into something more useful than punching bags and sparring with Sarah, launching into the fight with every hour of dwindling hope and growing desperation fueling his every move, every punch and kick, every violent twist and dodge, every grunt of effort and snarl of fury.

As quickly as it had begun, the fight ended, leaving the two guards lying unconscious on the ground.

He swiped his sleeve across his bloodied mouth. “No one,” he growled, “messes with my nerd.”

That… sounded better in my head.

Whatever. Nobody heard it, at least.

He stole a ring of keys off one guard’s belt, jabbing them one by one into the lock until the door swung open.

Revealing Chuck, unconscious, hanging from his wrists in the middle of the dim cell, blood oozing from a gash in his forehead to trail across dark bruises along his cheek and jaw, dripping down to stain his dirty, ripped Buy More shirt.

I’m going to kill them.

“I’ve got the asset,” he reported, pressing a finger to his ear. “Walker, I’ve got Chuck.”

If she said anything in response – and he assumed she said something – he didn’t hear it, busy darting across the room, holstering his gun in exchange for a knife, wrapping a careful arm around Chuck’s waist to catch him as he sliced through the rope tying him to the ceiling. He grunted as the other man’s weight dropped onto him, fumbling to steady him as best he could, half dragging him over to the wall to lean him against it. “Come on, Bartowski, wake up,” he muttered, checking for a pulse, letting out a breath when he found it weak but steady. “Wake up, kid. Wake up. Chuck!”

Chuck bolted awake with a gasp, eyes flying open. “I’m awa- I’m a- I’m- wh- Casey? Casey!”

Recognition lighting up pain-dulled eyes, Chuck surged forward, throwing his arms around him, very nearly bowling him over, all but collapsing against John. “Oh, thank God,” he rasped. “Thank God, thank God, thank God, I thought- I th- I mean, I knew you were coming, but- but I- oh, thank God.”

His back to the unconscious guards, his face hidden by the hug, John let his eyes close, let his guard drop. In the hysteria bubbling up around Chuck’s relief, he heard the what-ifs, the scenarios he knew they’d both been imagining, and with images of Chuck’s broken, lifeless body finally, blessedly sent packing by that incessant babbling he would never admit to missing and his surprisingly tight grip, he couldn’t help it.

He returned the hug.

He brought his arms up, holding Chuck close, and for a moment, his walls came down, washed away by the relief of having him back, by all of the stress and fear reaching a monumental peak and crashing down to nothing, assuaged by the presence of this one stupid nerd he would break all the rules in the world for.

Not that he would admit it.

“Not, um- not- not to ruin the- the moment, but, um… Casey, are you- are you hugging me?”

And just like that, his walls went right back up.

“Of course not,” he mumbled, struggling to muster up even a vaguely indignant tone, pushing him away.

And yet, he couldn’t quite make himself let go, keeping one hand on Chuck’s shoulder.

A loopy smile positively glowed on his bloody face. “You hugged me.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

John narrowed his eyes. “If you breathe a word of it to anyone, I will kill you.”

Somehow, he only grew even more gleeful. “That wasn’t a denial! You hugged me.”

He drew his gun, cocking it pointedly. “Shut up if you wanna live,” he said gruffly, pulling him to his feet.

“Admit it,” Chuck pressed, blanching at the movement, wobbling against him. “You like me.”

“No amount of torture,” John shot back, pulling his arm over his shoulders, “could make me tell such a blatant lie.”

Chuck clung to him, swallowing noticeably, clenching his eyes shut. “Sure,” he rasped. “You like me.”

John growled, deciding to try a different tactic. “Come on. Sarah’s waiting.”

Just as he had hoped, Chuck perked up and let the subject slide, sufficiently distracted, and he moved out, leading the wounded protectee to safety.

And if he happened to stomp on a guard or two for a little extra retribution, well, Chuck was too busy trying to skitter past them to notice.

-----

Safely away from the Fulcrum facility, John watched from a slight distance as medics settled Chuck on a stretcher, Sarah stepping in to greet him with a lingering kiss to the forehead, careful to avoid his injuries. He crossed his arms, clearing his throat as he looked away, giving them whatever privacy he could considering they were, well, surrounded by people.

Until he heard what Chuck was saying.

“Sarah, he hugged me. Casey hugged me. Me!”

Hands clenching into fists beneath his arms, he turned a fiery glare on the other man. Why did I want to rescue you?

Her hand resting in his hair, Sarah glanced dubiously between them, one eyebrow arching.

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

“Yeah,” she said slowly, taking a step back, trailing her fingers through his hair. “It’s time for you to go to the hospital.”

“No, he hugged me!” Chuck protested as the medics began loading him into the ambulance. “Sarah, he hugged me! Really!”

“Whatever you say, Chuck,” she said obligingly as the doors closed. “I’ll meet you at the hospital, ok?”

Still protesting, he grudgingly flashed a thumbs up through the window as they ambulance started to drive off.

Sarah retreated to John’s side, tucking her hands into her pockets. “Must’ve been some hit to the head,” he commented. “As if I’d ever hug him.”

“Mhm,” Sarah hummed.

“Come on, you can’t really believe him.”

“I know what your growls mean by now,” she said, “and you hated every second we couldn’t find him. I know you care. Even if you won’t say it.”

“I do not-”

She knocked him lightly with her shoulder, flashing a mischievous smile at him. “Whatever you say, you big softie.”

John bristled. “Softie?”

“Softie,” she confirmed, utterly unapologetic.

He would blame it on exhaustion later, or perhaps his own convenient blow to the head, but suddenly, he just didn’t care to fight anymore. Chuck was safe, Sarah was smiling, and his life, baffled as he still was by the fact that he had grown to like this assignment, could continue on unmarred by any further loss. In the moment, he didn’t care much about anything else.

Except, perhaps, maintaining his reputation. Sort of.

“…I’m not gonna win this one, am I?”

“Nope,” she said cheerfully.

He let it go with a sigh. “Just don’t tell him.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” She leaned against him, resting her head against his shoulder. “Softie.”

His half-hearted growl only made her chuckle.

[mhafiction]

Out & About (Pt. 3)

Read Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 4

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

Fluff/Friends to Lovers (?), swearing

Synopsis: Reader is very close friends with the Bakusquad, except for the aloof and mysterious Bakugo. He still intrigues them however, and a night out with the group might actually be the the push they need to really get the ball rolling on transitioning their awkward comradery into something a little- more.

Note: It’s done haha. I didn’t spellcheck it that well... forgive me -K.

“There’s a shopping mall not far from here!” Mina squealed, her ink-black eyes glittering with excitement.

“It’s that new one that opened last week, right?” Kirishima mused. “We should totally check it out.

You stifled a yawn, then checked your phone. It was still considerably early, but for some reason your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. It was almost as if an entire era had passed in the time you left the dorm. But maybe that wasn’t so bad.

Bakugo kept his gaze fixed squarely ahead. Unshakable, even with your charming presence. It didn’t matter to you. What was pleasing was the fact that he was walking side by side next to you, matching your stride with each step. Perhaps it was the lingering warmth of his jacket combined with the romanticism of snowfall, but you couldn’t help but wear a sleepy little smile.

Once arriving at the shopping center, you plopped down on a bench, waving for your friends to carry on without you. “I need to rest my feet for now, I’ll catch up.” The heat from the interior met your freezing cheeks, and you basked in the comfort for a moment. Bakugo hesitated, concern flashing in his eyes, before deciding to join you on the bench. “Huh? Bakubro, you’re not coming?” Kirishima asked, a playful grin dancing on his face. Bakugo met his boyish demeanor with a scowl. “No.”

“Ahaha, I see.” Sero nodded with a quiet understanding, glancing at your drooping form, then raising an eyebrow at Bakugo. The hotheaded blonde immediately flushed. “Tch.” He tossed back his head with an air of false nonchalance. “Go away.” Kaminari clicked his tongue. “Oh Bakugo, quit playing the tough card. We all know deep down you’re a big ole softie. I mean, you should just see the way you act around Y/N-” Bakugo had to be restrained by Kirishima to keep him from lunging at Denki. “GET LOST ASSHOLE!” Sparks flew from his hands. “Whoa, touched a nerve there.”

Bakugo was lucky that his friends abided with this demand, even if it was with some teasing. He was even luckier that you were so close to passing out, and therefore completely checked out of the conversation. He scrolled on his phone, watching you out of the corner of his eye. Sometimes you could be a real pain. What if some creep had cozied up to you while you were in this inebriated condition? His hands gripped his phone tighter thinking about that. Didn’t you care about yourself? He watched your head bob up and down, fighting to stay awake. Hmph. You’re lucky you’re so cute.

The shopping mall hummed with activity, not strange for a Friday evening. Girls flitted about from store to store, children cried and threw tantrums as they were led along by their parents, and some were waiting languidly on their benches just as Bakugo was. Why was he waiting, anyway? You probably wouldn’t want to move for a while, and deep down he knew you could handle yourself.

Then, while his thoughts were focused on his social media feed, Bakugo felt a weight on his right shoulder. Slightly frozen from shock, he stiffly turns his head to greet your sleeping face smushed squarely against his upper arm. He felt his cheeks grow hot, and he silently cursed you for being so damn pretty, even when you were unconscious. He drank in your features, trying to capture this moment in his mind. Wait a minute.

Slowly, very, very slowly, he shifts his phone to his left hand, gently angling it’s camera to capture your entire face. He prays you don’t wake up at the wrong time. Almost got it. Just adjust the light here and- Click. He let’s out a deep breath, a self-congratulating smirk on his face. Bakugo brushes a hair from your face, almost unconscious of the action, then winces at the memory in the restaurant. That had been so awkward. He had been overcome with a desire to help you, to be close to you, to touch you. What he had thought was just a passing crush had become something so intense that it scared him. He didn’t even know it was possible to like someone that much. And now, in this mediocre shopping mall, you were slumped over his shoulder. Your soft snores music to his ears and dulling his senses till all there was was you, and all that mattered was you. You stirred, your calm little face convulsing into a yawn. Bakugo held back a barking laugh at how your brows knit together, how you stretched like a shaking kitten, and how absolutely imperfect you seemed at the moment. His heart clenched as he realized that he was way too far gone. Bakugo loves you. He loved everything you did and how you did it, how you laughed and how you cried and how you woke up from a nap. It made him feel soft and warm on the inside. Gross. Pondering this for a while, he wondered how a person as good as you could even like him. I mean, you did, right? That’s why you tried to talk to him or train with him. Truthfully, he knew that he was a prickly type- he hadn’t met you halfway in the attempts to grow closer. But being around you was almost nerve-wrecking. He wanted to be better for you. After tonight, well, things probably wouldn’t be the same. In a good way. That’s a step at least. Bakugo gazed down at the picture he had taken of you. Your face made him unconsciously happy, and butterflies erupted in his stomach. What the fuck was this?? Was he dying??

He weighed his options, going back and forth in his head... fuck it. He set the photo to his lock screen chuckling with a quiet giddiness, then chastised himself for being so fanciful and indulgent. Now that was just sad. But he didn’t change it back.

You rubbed your eyes, blinking in the fluorescent white light. For a second, you forgot where you were. Your eyelids fluttered shut, your mind weary, hoping to return to your nap. It was so soft here for some reason...then, your nose was greeted with the familiar smell of burnt sugar.

“Bakugo?” You muttered, still in a daze. He jumped in suprise, hitting your chin, and the fact that you had been laying on him all this time snapped you awake. Oh fuck.

You wipe a bit of drool from your mouth, trying to compose yourself. Oh my god he probably thinks I’m disgusting and lazy and-

You make a quick effort to smooth out your hair, hoping to death that you hadn’t done anything embarrassing while you were unconscious. Awkwardly shrinking yourself so that you’d make as little physical contact with Bakugo as possible, you give him a quick glance. “S-Sorry.” It was the return of his soft, caring attention that almost caught you of guard. “Tch. Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled, the gentleness in his voice barely hidden with a raspy facade of annoyance. Your eyes catch on his phone for one second as a notification pops up. Was that... you? You quickly pull your gaze away from it, banishing the thought from your head. No way, no how. That was ridiculous. Why would he even put me as his lock screen?

You shift in your seat a bit, still tired but a little antsy. You couldn’t just sit here in awkward silence with him. Pushing yourself through the haze of exhaustion, you slowly stand up, offering a nod to Bakugo. “Let’s go find the others.”

It seemed that all your friends were refusing to answer your phone calls. “What the fuck?” You murmured. “I mean, Denki’s with them.”

“Bastards probably forgot a cord,” Bakugo sighed, not surprised by their ignorance in the least. “Better just search for them.”

You two walk across the mall, scanning the storefronts, shoulders less than an inch apart. Bakugo is aware of how close you are, and bristles every time your hand brushes up against his own. You aren’t. Your limbs are heavy with exhaustion, your eyes fight to stay open, and the warmth of Bakugo beside you...

You latch onto his arm, forgetting your previous aversions to touching him. Bakugo stiffens up, but says nothing. He watches you yawn, then cozy into the crook of his elbow, burying your nose in the fabric of his shirt. “Y’know Bakugo, you really are amazing,” you whisper, your light little voice slurring from sleepiness. Bakugo’s breath hitches in the back of his throat. Did you really just say that?

“For the record, I don’t care what everyone else says. You’re really nice.” You giggle, reaching for a spike of his hair, then patting his head softly. “And pretty.” That’s it for Bakugo, he panics, feeling his face go completely red. He’s dead silent, shocked that you were being so bold. You pout. “I think I really like you Bakugo.”

“You do?” He whispers back, his gravelly voice infused with disbelief.

“Sure. I think you’re gonna be the No. 1 Hero one day.” You press your fingers together, growing comically bashful. “Can I kiss you?”

Bakugo reels back at the request, eyes wide as he runs those words you just uttered through his head. Just exactly how tired were you?

You bury your face in your hands. “Oh god, I’m sorry Katsuki-“ you yelp. “Uh-uhm, Bakugo-“

“No, it’s okay. I-“ he gulps, swallowing his stress. “I like Katsuki.”

“...Ok, Katsuki.” He felt like melting, hearing you say his name.

Bakugo rubs the back of his neck apprehensively, deciding to proceed with caution. “How about we talk about this when you’re less...loopy?” You give him a single nod, still rested firmly on his arm. He didn’t mind.

“But you know, Katsuki. I really mean it,” you say under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear. “But you’re right. I don’t want to burden you with-“

Bakugo stopped dead in his tracks. Burden him? How could you even suggest something like that? He grimaced, cursing himself for his stupid prickly attitude and his inability to talk to people. Especially people as good as you.

“Is that really how you feel, Y/N?”

“Hm?”

He grabs your shoulders, making sure that you’re looking him square in the eye. A blush creeps onto your face.

“You’re not burdening me, you got it, idiot?”

Why’d he have to say it like that? He inhales, pushing himself to tell you more. To let you know that he liked you, too. More than you’d ever know.

“Listen Y/N, I think that you’re...you’re pretty great. That is to say, you’re not bad. You’re better than most of the extras I know. I mean-“

He gives a shout of aggravation, furious at how impossible it is to just tell his crush he likes them.

“ARGH! What I mean is! ...You remember how I promised I’d tell you when you’re being stupid? Well, you’re being stupid right now, if you think that you’re a goddamn- a goddamn burden.”

He chokes on his words, anger and sorrow welling up in his throat.

“Katsuki.” You bring a hand to his face, watching those eyes of his show you everything you needed to know. Bakugo had opened his heart to you. Had this sweetness been in there all along? Had his love really been there forever?

You frowned, watching his pained expression. What could you possibly say to him...

“Let me see your phone.”

His brows furrow together, and he straightens up. But he complies, tossing his phone to you while looking the other way.

You hummed, tapping on his screen. It illuminates, and as you suspected, it was you. Sleeping. On Bakugo. You feel your face grow hot, then hand him back the phone.

“Well, I guess you’re ahead of the curve.”

Bakugo snorts. “Bold words from the one who fell asleep on me and then asked for a kiss.”

You scratch your cheek, taking a deep breath.

“Well, you didn’t really give me an answer.”

Bakugo’s eyes widen, then offer you a mischievous twinkle. He smirks, a little cocky. “I guess I didn’t.”

“So.”

“...”

Bakugo sighs, then matches his gaze with yours. You can tell he’s nervous. Inching closer and closer, you watch his face grow redder and redder as he leans in. Once his nose is basically touching yours, he whispers softly “Listen. I’ve never done this before, so. Don’t make fun of me.” Then he closed the distance.

Caramel overwhelmed your senses. His lips met yours with confidence yet caution, planted squarely with little mercy. He was so sure of himself, and at the same time so gentle. The kiss was slow, one you both eased into as he grabbed your hip to pull you closer. Your hands played in his hair, and he shuddered, pulling away just for a moment to look at your face. You two stood there, intertwined, in the blinking lights of a shopping mall with the whole world moving past you. You smile, pushing back, then offering your hand to Bakugo. At least now, you were awake.

“Let’s go find the others?” He intertwined his calloused palm with yours. “Yeah.”

Truly, this would be a night to remember.

[itsthemoofacewriting]

You’re the only high that I want

Well… it’s been a while, huh? And I’m not even back with something grand, just a silly little thing that would not leave me alone until I wrote it.

Summary: Sanji’s a flirt at the best of times, but after an operation when he’s drugged up? Nami doesn’t know whether her cheeks will ever return to their normal colour. AU. SaNami. Rating: T

This can also be found on FFN and AO3

Enjoy some hilarity.

Everything had happened very quickly.

One minute, Sanji was doing an inventory check at his restaurant and the next he was stooped over as an unbearable pain shot through his abdomen, sweat beading on his forehead. That’s how he was found by his staff as they panicked, rushing around in a flutter as their normally tough, hardy manager was writhing in pain.

Sanji had bragged one too many times to Zoro about never having been sick before and really, when he’d done it that one time when Zoro was sick, this was probably karma coming around to give him a reality check.

“I miss Sanji’s cooking already,” Luffy whined, hanging off the uncomfortable hospital chair next to Sanji’s bed.

“It’s been a day. If you’re hungry go to the café down the hall,” Nami sighed, rolling her eyes from the other side.

“Food sucks,” he muttered like a child being told they can’t have ice cream from the truck. The hospital food wasn’t awful, but Luffy’s problem was that it wasn’t Sanji’s. Nami rolled her eyes.

Usopp and Zoro walk into the room shortly after. They’d all been at work when they’d gotten the call but only Nami and Luffy had been able to leave immediately, she’d swung by to pick him up on the way. Zoro and Usopp had text to say they’d be over as soon as possible. Well, Usopp did. Zoro just grunted when asked if he was going to come. That was confirmation enough for Nami.

“Is he okay?” Usopp asked, handing Luffy a packet of crisps from the vending machine outside. It seemed to be enough to brighten Luffy’s mood and get him to stop sulking.

“Yeah, the operation went well, they’re waiting for him to wake up. Should everything be okay when they check him over, he can be discharged,” Nami informed them but it didn’t stop her worrying.

He was so still and pale. He’d never bragged to her about never being sick, but she knew the fact well, so it never prepared her for when he would eventually get sick. Why couldn’t he just get a cold like the rest of them and be done with it?

A bag of crisps was thrust in her face, blocking her view of Sanji and she blinked. Luffy was leaning over the bed and smiling at her. “It’ll be okay!” He reassured, then looked contemplative for a moment, sparing a glance at Sanji. “Maybe he’ll feel better if he had some.”

That did it.

“As if! Sit down you idiot,” she barked and Luffy laughed. The tension in the room lifting as Usopp and Luffy started loudly chattering. Even Zoro nodded at her. She knew she was being a bit of a worry wart; it was a straightforward appendectomy after all.

The room went silent when Sanji stirred and his eyes slowly started to open. They all stared at him with bated breath as he blinked at each of them, eyes slowly moving around the room, as if trying to piece together what was going on by himself. His gaze finally settled on Nami and he just stared.

Her hand came to rest on his arm. “Sanji, how do you feel?” Admittedly, it was a stupid question, how else would he feel? But he wasn’t saying anything. He was looking at her oddly, almost stupefied.

“Oh beautiful angel, I’m blessed just by being in your overwhelming presence, let alone your concern for me,” Sanji crooned, taking the hand on his arm to clasp in his own.

“Yeah. He’s fine,” Usopp said blandly, unimpressed.

Nami squeezed his hand, relieved but that just appeared to spur him on.

“I’ve never seen someone so gorgeous in all my years. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve having you look upon me, but I won’t curse my good fortune.”

Luffy starts asking him questions in the background, food related of course, but Sanji’s eyes don’t leave her. It appears he’s not even listening. They run from the top of her head and as far down as they can before the bed blocks her and then back up. Did he just check her out?

“It’s like you’re carved from marble, just utterly flawless.” She doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick down to her lips and then back up to her eyes. “This is probably a stretch, but considering my good luck already, I have to know, are you single?”

“Uuuh-” Her brain short circuits and she can’t get it to form words at the unexpected question.

“Because if you are, I’d be honoured to take you out,” he said lowly and brings the hand in his grip up to his lips to place a delicate kiss to her knuckles and she almost can’t believe the hot flush working over her face at such an innocent gesture.

“Holy shit, is he hitting on you?” Usopp questions in disbelief and behind him Zoro snorts.

“Course he is, idiot can’t keep it in his pants even when he’s been cut open,” Zoro replies.  

And suddenly it makes sense. The stupefied look he sent her, the heated looks he’s giving her… the ridiculous, over the top words coming from his mouth. Well, the last thing wasn’t too out of character for him, but over the years he’d toned it down. He hasn’t been like that since they met.

But- he’s loopy from the anaesthesia… and is trying to woo her.

Zoro snorts behind her and she directs a glare at him. When she looks back at Sanji, he’s no longer giving her an adoring look but instead looks suspicious. Apparently, she’d been silent for too long and he’d taken it as a negative to his question.

“Who is it?” And Sanji’s glaring at the three men in the room, sizing them up. He disregards Luffy quickly, who looks utterly bored and then eliminates Usopp a second after, who looks confused. Although, Usopp soon looked offended after when he realised he’d been overlooked so quickly.

His eyes settled on Zoro.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” He sneered at Zoro as he said it, and even though he’s the one in the bed, Sanji still somehow managed to look down his nose at the other man. “You could do so much better than him, just look at that nasty face.”

“Oi, I can still kick your arse, operation or not!” Zoro replied angrily, Nami’s laughter no doubt infuriating him further.

“It’s not him,” Nami said, humour thick in her voice.

“Whoever it is, I’m sure they couldn’t look after you as well as I could. You’re a goddess, you deserve to be treated like one,” Sanji babbled, grasping her hand desperately. “Run away with me.”

“Hmm, well…” She pretends to consider his offer and smirks when the grip on her hand tightens slightly and he’s looking up at her with so much hope.

“Would you just tell him already?” Zoro growled, his temper thinning, still not over the previous insult and the idiots prattling was starting to grind on him.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Usopp asked, trying to peer around at her face.

When she looked over her shoulder at them, the look she gave them was downright evil. Sanji was a flatterer normally, it wasn’t anything new but to hear him so fervent when he had no clue who she was… well, it was an ego boost to say the least.

But her fun had to come to an end at some point, especially as he was still going on in the background.

“-Grow old with me?”

She paused for a second, considering how she wanted to respond, before shrugging, “Okay.”

“R-really?” Sanji asked, stunned at her simple answer, almost like he wasn’t expecting it. Or at least expecting more of a fight.

“I already promised to do that anyway,” she explained simply and lifted her previously hidden hand from her lap so the ring on her finger could twinkle cheekily at him.

“Me?” Sanji pointed to himself and looked blown away, gobsmacked as he stared at her. All she did was smile back at him and nod.

There was a pause as he took this all in.

“You’re my fiancé?” His voice raised an octave.

“Oh for god- yes, yes! She’s your fiancé!” Usopp snapped, bored and irritated with the show in front of them all.

“But you’re so beautiful?” He said like a question, still in awe.

Nami laughed. “Seems you’re quite lucky, indeed.” And winked at him.

Sanji almost looked like he was going to pass out as she did when the door suddenly opened, and a nurse walked in. Nami looked at Sanji apprehensively, if he was still loopy and couldn’t remember that she was his fiancé, was he going to go back to his old flirting ways? She would hit him, surgery be damned.

“Well, it’s nice a lively in here, that’s always a nice sign,” the nurse said cheerfully.

Sanji eyed the nurse for a second but it seemed Nami’s worries were all for nothing when he looked back at her. “Can you believe this is my fiancé? I still can’t, she’s out of this world. I’m the luckiest man alive.” He beamed and squeezed both of her hands in his.

The nurse laughed in response and Nami could feel her cheeks growing hot. “Ah, the anaesthesia has all sorts of different effects on people, looks like you got the fun one.” She winked at Nami. “I’ll go get the doctor.”

When the young doctor had entered, he’d ushered out Luffy, Zoro and Usopp. Nami told them to go home now that he was awake, and she’d call them later. They’d probably all be invading their home tomorrow anyway.

It didn’t take much more convincing when Usopp said he saw a McDonalds close by. With a whoop, Luffy was out the door and running down the hallways with Usopp and Zoro hot on his heels.

With them now gone, Sanji had been given a quick once over, asked how he felt (“I’m on top of the world with this goddess next to me.” Jesus) and that was it. She was told that he had to take it easy for two weeks and no heavy lifting. That wouldn’t be easy, he struggled to sit still for long periods.

They were left after that, so he could get changed out of his gown and they could leave.

“Can I kiss you?” And he was looking down at her, so earnestly, as his arms slipped into his shirt and she worked on buttoning it up.

This was the second time he’d asked, the first had been with Luffy, Usopp and Zoro in the room. The latter had looked disgusted and she’d quickly denied him out of embarrassment.

But with that look she couldn’t again. “Okay, just a quick one.”

He didn’t hesitate and swooped down to connect their lips. Apparently, he hadn’t heard anything past her ‘okay’, as his lips pressed against hers firmly and his hands grasped her hips to press her up against him. She tried to pull away to reprimand him, but he followed after her to reconnect their lips and when his tongue brushed her bottom lip, she found herself throwing caution to the wind.

When her arms wrapped around his shoulders and she slanted their lips together, he hummed in delight at her enthusiasm. She found herself forgetting where they were when his tongue reached out to caress hers and she wrinkled her nose at the morning (or afternoon?) breath but she found herself not caring. Sanji was before her, well and safe and apparently really getting into this as a moan slipped from his mouth and his hands were groping at her behind.

Okay, that’s more than enough.

She leaned back, turning her head to avoid his lips but he brushed them under her ear instead, nuzzling there afterwards.

“Wow,” he whispered, sending goose bumps down her neck.  

“And that’s all you’re getting, so you better have got your fill.” Her tone still a bit too breathy to be believable but she did push against his shoulders slightly to create a bit of distance.  

“I don’t think I ever will.”

Nami snorted but nonetheless was delighted. “Come on, let’s get you discharged.”

Getting over to the nurse’s station took far longer than it should have, but Sanji kept stopping to inform anyone who passed them that she was his fiancé and wasn’t he the luckiest man alive? She drowned out his babbling and lead him by their connected hands, she was a woman on a mission. She was ready to leave this place.

She signed whatever was put in front of her, asking any questions and listened as the nurse explained everything, occasionally throwing an amused look towards Sanji who would not shut up.

He cut off his own rambling when a thought occurred to him. “Can I kiss you again?!” He asked excitedly, already moving closer.

“Not right now,” She said, cheeks flushed when the nurses nearby started to giggle and smile over at them. This was all incredibly flattering but it was starting to get embarrassing, he had no filter right now. She smacked his hand away when it started to wander lower. She needed to get him home.

“Okay, you’re all set! Any issues, please call your doctor and they’ll advise you,” the nurse informed her.

“Thank you,” Nami said to the nurse and then turned to Sanji, “Let’s go home.”

“You’re taking me home with you?” He asked eagerly, a glint in his eye.  

“Oh my god,” she said, exasperated and started guiding him towards the sliding doors so they could leave.

He let go of her hand to slide it around her waist and murmured into her ear, “You can do whatever you want with me.” His breath is hot against her ear and if he hadn’t just had surgery, she would elbow him so hard right now.

“But I really do want forever with you,” he follows up with and that takes the murderous edge off her face.

“Forever to do whatever you want with me.”

She doesn’t feel bad about elbowing him after that. She just wishes it was on the side they’d made the cut. That’d teach him.

For all his big talk at the hospital and perverted uttering on the car ride home, he passed out on the sofa the moment he sat down.

Perverted he may be, but that was her pervert she thinks as she plays with the ring on her finger.

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

Did some light googling on appendectomy and anaesthesia, but I’m no doctor. So please don’t come at me about details.

As always, please forgive any errors.

Thanks for reading.  

[bittywitches]

Come Over (Ethan Dolan Fanfic)

A/N: Ethan’s stories abt him being sick made me soft so I wanted to write something abt it :)) Basically Y/N and Ethan have been going out for a while but Ethan isn’t the most expressive when it comes to showing his affection for his gf and he starts to realize that it might acc be a problem...

Ly guys hope you enjoy it <3

Used Tissues were strewn across the bed, falling off onto the floor. Tissue boxes were stacked carelessly on the night table, most of them half empty. Ethan’s almost dead phone was plugged into his wall, and he aimlessly scrolled through his insta feed, his hood over his head and the drawstrings pulled tight. The covers were draped all the way up to his chin. He groaned, his head burning up even more than the day before. being sick was bad enough, but Grayson leaving him to go to the beach just made it that little bit worse. He spent the entire day eating food and lying in bed doing nothing, and it drove him insane. He ached for any sort of human interaction. He even started making conversation with the Halloween decorations.

He went to his contacts and scrolled down until he found the person he was looking for. He pressed call and put the phone on speaker.

“Hey, hon.”

“Hi, cutie.”

His girlfriend laughed. “I think your medicine is making you loopy.”

“Course not, sweetness.”

“Right, sure. What’s up? You feeling any better?”

“No. Grayson abandoned me. I’m so bored. Come over.”

“Babe, I’m in a lecture hall right now.”

“Yea? Why’d you answer your phone?”

“Because it’s not currently going on.”

“Then come over!”

“It’s going to start soon, you dumbass.”

“Ugggghhhh.”

“Shut up, people will hear you.”

“When’s your lecture over?”

“In an hour.”

“Do you have to stay?”

“I’ll come over when it’s finished.”

“Ugh. Fine. BYEEE SUGAR MUFFIN!”

“Oh my god people are staring at me now you’re such an asshole k bye”

She cut the phone, and he laughed out loud. Embarrassing his girlfriend was one of his favourite things to do. He chuckled to himself again, then went back to scrolling through his feed, and finally stopped when his eye caught the familiar face of his favourite girl.

It was a picture she had posted a few hours before, of her and Ethan sitting in front of the campfire they had made the weekend before. They’d gone camping with a few of their friends, and they had an amazing time. Y/N and Ethan were sitting on a log in front of the fire, roasting marshmallows. Ethan’s was already burnt, and Y/N was laughing in the photo while she had her arm linked around his. He looked at how happy she looked, and how dang good she looked with her messy hair and face smeared with the ashes from the fire, and he smiled to himself. He really was the luckiest guy in the world, to have such an amazing girlfriend. He swiped to see the next photo she’d posted, and it was of her kissing him on the cheek while Ethan made the fakest annoyed expression in the world. He cringed, looking at his dumb face next to hers. Her arms were carelessly thrown over him, wrapped around his neck, and her eyes were scrunched tight. One of his arms was wrapped around her, and the other one was still holding his now on fire marshmallow. She had posted it with a caption: 

Firstname.Lastname Eww he tastes like sweat and ashes 😣

He snorted.

She was absolutely adorable.

He started typing up a comment:

that’s what you get for kissing me 😈

He read it over, shook his head, then cleared it to write something else:

Your kisses are still the sweetest 😉

He liked that better, and smiled when his phone dinged just a few minutes later:

Firstname.Lastname liked your comment: Your kisses are still the sweetest 😉Firstname.Lastname mentioned you in a comment: @ethandolan 😊❤️

Ethan wished that he didn’t have to look so stupid in the picture. He loved it when Y/N kissed him, he was just too awkward to ever voice that out loud, or show it for that matter. She was just so amazing, and sometimes it seemed like he had no idea how to show her that. 

“Why does she have to have her stupid lecture...”

Two hours later, Ethan finally perked up at the sound of the front door opening. He heard the thud of her shoes hitting the floor, the rattle of her keys being thrown onto the table, and then her soft footsteps racing up the stairs. The click of her turning the doorknob, and the creak of his door opening to reveal her, in his old sweatshirt and tights, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, holding some grocery bags.

“Oh my god, you look like hell.”

“Thanks, gorgeous.”

She laughed, walking up to his bed and plopping down beside him. She felt his forehead, and her eyebrows scrunched up.

“What did you do to get yourself this sick in the first place?”

“I ran outside in the middle of the night in nothing but my birthday suit then dived into the pool.” His nasal voice made his sarcastic remark sound funnier than it should have.

“Haha.” She grabbed her bags and began pulling out various assortments of items.

“What’s all this?”

“Just stuff to make you feel better.” She pulled out some hot soup (that Ethan had no idea how she had the time to make), cough drops, more cold medicine, a huge bag of chips, and a small, purple teddy bear, which she placed in front of him.

“Who’s this little guy?”

She grinned. “Just someone to keep you company when you get bored during one of my lectures again.”

He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t deny that he loved the little thing. It was adorable. Like her.

“You know you didn’t have to go to all the trouble of getting this stuff.”

“Well, when you called me you sounded pretty bad.”

“I just missed you.”

She looked at him weirdly for a moment, but then shook her head and began to put the items onto his night table.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Dude.”

“Nothing.”

He shoved her shoulder gently, and she rolled her eyes.

“Do you want soup?”

“Uhuh.”

She opened the container and handed it to him, along with a plastic spoon. He gratefully took it, slurping it down a bit obnoxiously, but she smiled at him nonetheless.

“You know, you’d think that someone with such a nice house and so much storage place would have quick-to-make soup around.”

“Come on, you know soup is like the most boring dish ever.”

She gave him an annoyed look.

“Ah ah ah Babe I need a tish!” He hastily put the bowl onto his night table while trying to hold in his sneeze, while Y/N grabbed the nearest tissue box and handed him one. He sneezed loudly.

“Jesus, that gets really annoying.”

“Yea, I can tell.” She gestured to all of the crumpled up tissues. “This is so nasty, how do you just sleep with all of these surrounding you?”

She grabbed his trash can and began tossing the tissues into the basket. 

“Oh babe no that’s gross! You don’t have to-“

“Oh my god just shut up and let me take care of you!”

She gave him a heavy sigh and continued to clean up. Ethan gave her a blank stare, unsure of what to say. 

“..Thank you.” He decided on that.

He looked over at him, looking a bit pissed off. “Hey, if you think I was fishing for a-“

“No! Jeez, I’m being serious. You didn’t have to do any of this or even come here at all since I’m assuming you’ve got a lot of work to do, and I’m really thankful for that. For you.”

She blinked. “Seriously, is there something in your medicine?”

“Oh my fucking god!” He flopped back onto his pillow. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just not used to..” she waved her hands vaguely. “All this from you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She finally finished picking up all the tissues, then sat down next to E on the bed. She grabbed the bag of chips and popped it open, then tossed one into her mouth. 

“You wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Are you saying I have to get up?”

“Wow okay bye then-“

“No!” He laughed, grabbing her arm to prevent her from getting off the end without him. “I’m kidding. Yes, a movie sounds great.”

Y/N sat cross-legged on the couch, idly scrolling through the movies on Netflix. Ethan sat across on the other side of the couch, eating more of the chips. 

“What about this one?”

“Seen it already.”

She groaned, clicking the remote louder than usual as if to display her annoyance. “You’ve already seen like every movie ever.”

“Well there isn’t much else to do when you're sick.”

“Blegh.”

Y/N rested her chin on her hand. Her ponytail was falling apart a little bit, and little strands fell to float against her cheek. Ethan loved to play with her hair. He’d do it a lot without ever thinking about it. They’d be hanging out with their friends, and he’d just begin fiddling with ends. At one point Y/N had gotten so annoyed by it that she had told him he might as well just braid it instead. But surprisingly to her, Ethan actually liked that idea. And so, she taught him how to do it, and from then on whenever she came over she would end up leaving with her hair braided. She’d always say it annoyed her, but Ethan knew she secretly loved it from the way he saw her smile whenever he did it.

Ethan found himself zoning out, just staring at her as she was looking for a movie for them to watch. Her face, her eyes, her mouth, her nose, her hands, her arms, her back...

“Oh oh! How about this one?”

Y/N startled him back to reality. “Hm? Yea. Sure.”

“God finally.”

To be honest, Ethan wasn’t even sure what they were going to watch.

“Hey, hold on. I’m gonna go get something.” He got up to go head towards his bedroom.

“Get what?”

“A blanket.”

“What? Why?”

“So we can cuddle.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “What?”

Ethan shrugged. “I’m cold. And I wanna cuddle.”

Y/N’s mouth hung open for a second, having no idea what to do in this situation. 

He wanted to what?

Yea, of course, they’d cuddled before, but he’d never been so bluntly said that he wanted it. She was always so sure that he was embarrassed by it. “Really?”

“Well, Yea.”

She blushed hard, looking away from him and smiling to herself, then looked back

at him. “Okay.”

He smiled at her. “Okay.”

“you are so fucking comfy.” Y/N nestled up closer to Ethan, burying her face into his sweatshirt. Her legs were carelessly thrown on top of him, and Ethan rubbed her thigh under the blanket.

“That is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“And you should be grateful, mister.”

He chuckled and planted a kiss on Y/N’s forehead. He heard her sigh in content.

“Aren’t you afraid of getting sick from me?”

“Oh, this is definitely worth it.”

“God, you are so cute.”

She blushed. “Babe, what is up with you today?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know...” he stroked his fingers along her back. “Guess I just realized that I don’t appreciate you enough.”

Y/N snorted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ethan repositioned himself so he was facing Y/N, her lying on his arm with her hands pressed up against his chest. “You know, you’re just...”

“I’m what?”

“Amazing.”

Her face turned even more red than before, and Ethan grinned. “Man, I didn’t know I could do that to you so easily.”

“Yea well, you’d know if you tried once and a while.”

As soon as the words left her mouth Y/N covered her mouth with her hands, wishing she could take those words back.

Ethan’s face fell. “Ouch. Guess that was a jab at me, huh?”

“It just came out, I didn’t mean to-“

“No, Y/N. you did.”

“I did not!”

“You did.”

Y/N tried to say something, but the words got caught in her throat. She sighed, pushing the loose strands of hair up and out of her face. “Babe..”

“No, you don’t have to explain yourself. It makes sense, I’m not the greatest with that kind of stuff. I just didn’t know it ever bothered you that much.”

She let her head fall onto the side of the couch. “It doesn’t, not really..” She paused. “I don’t know. It’s just nice when you hear those kinds of things from the person you love, yknow?”

Ethan tucked another peaking strand behind her ear. “I may not say it all the time, but you know that’s how I feel, don’t you?”

“Yea...” she started playing with his drawstrings. “I just... You know how you said you missed me? Well that... it just makes my heart-“ she pressed her hand on top of the place where Ethan’s heart would be, then made an exploding motion with her hands along with a little sound effect. “You know?”

He took her hand and pressed it against his heart again. “Well, if it makes it any better...” he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “You make my heart feel like that every day.”

Y/N beamed at him. She reached up and grabbed his face, then kissed him. Ethan couldn’t help but moan a bit, kissing her back stronger than he ever had. When they finally pulled apart, Y/N looked just as bewildered as he did.

“Where did that come from?”

“I have no clue.”

“Well-“

Before he knew it Y/N was kissing him again, cradling his jaw in her hands. Her eyebrows were furrowed, lost in the feeling of Ethan’s lips against hers. It was like nothing mattered but the two of them, underneath their little blanket.

Ethan pulled away suddenly in some sort of urgency and caught his breath. 

“I love you.” He rubbed her cheek. “And I’m sorry that I don’t say it enough.”

Y/N breathed out, smiling at him wide.

“I’m probably definitely going to get sick.”

“Y/N!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” She pecked him on the lips.

 “I love you too.”

[fanxyblog]

I'M STUPID ~ SIK-K

Request: How about some Angst with a fluffy ending hmm maybe with sik-k or loopy if you write for them?

Request are open :)

A/N: I decided to write this one about Sik-k and I'm going to write something for Loopy later on, so wait for it.

Thank you for requesting @derya-t ! Hope you gonna like it. (I'm posting it so freaking late cause it's almost 4PM in my country, also I'm sorry you had to wait for it for so long)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 987

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE I'M SORRY FOR THE MISTAKES

It wasn't supposed to be that way. It wasn't, but it was. You were walking trough Mapo, tears running down your cheeks while silent sobs where leaving your mouth.

Today was supposed to be a day when

you and H1gher Music guys were eating lunch togheter, but unfortunately it didn't go that was.

You were supposed to meet for a quick meal with them at Potala Restaurant and you actually did.

You arrived to the Potala with a smile on your face, happy about the fact

that you were meeting all of them since you haven't had seen each other for some time because of their busy schedule.

But the smile that was spread on your lips dissapeared as soon as you heard a talk between them

"How is it going between you and Y/N?" a voice which you reconized to belong to Woodie said.

" It's going good, but she is hella annoying lately " it was the moment tears started running out of your eyes. How could he said that, especially to his friends. Where you that annoying? What have you done for him to think of you like that ?

Walking on the sidewalk you didn't care about cars that were driving next to you or about people that were looking your way. You knew that your make up was probably tottaly smudged and you had mascara all over your face, but you didn't care.

You felt like shit and you were hundred precent sure that anyone who would hear words like that about themselves would feel the same way.

Your phone buzzed in your purse, but you did not pay attention to it. All you wanted was to be back at home.

You didn't reckon how long it took you to got home or how you were able to get on the right bus considering the fact you were crying this whole time.

Even now when you were sitting on your couch in your old sweatpants and a sweater that was to big for you, you were still crying. Over what? Over that one dumb dude that you had 40 missed calls from.

You didn't want to hear from him. You didn't want to see him. You didn't want to have to do anything with him for some time.

That is how the day have passed by. Minsik was constantly trying to reach you, your phone was ringing and buzzing all the time, that's why you decided to turn it off.

You didn't want to focus on that, you were still sad and no matter how much you were trying to understand this whole situation, you just couldn't.

You knew that sometimes you were clingy and maybe sometimes you cared to much, but was that do wrong of you ? Did it really make you an annoying person ? Why did you need to ask yourself these questions?

Your peacful time was disturbed by a doorbell ring.

Opening your front door took you less than a minute and as soon as you did open them you regretet it right away.

"Oh my god!!! Baby you're okay " before you could say or do anything you were clasped in a tight hug from Minsik.

" I was so worried, you didn't came to meet us for lunch and then you weren't picking up your phone, I thought that something bad have had happened to you" he pulled away from you and held your face in his hands.

But you didn't anything to him you took his hands away from you. His face immediately changed.

"W-what is it, What's wrong" he was so cofused you could see that, but you wanted him to feel that way, you wanted him to feel a little bit like you.

" Well I tought since I'm annoying, you shouldn't be touching me" his face fell immediately and realisation hited him really hard.

"Y/N listen" he tried to reach you but you stepped away from him.

"Listen? For what? For you to humiliate me even more " you didn't even try to hide the fact you were hurt.

Minsik felt terrible and it only got worst when he saw tears on your face. He didn't know why he had called you annoying in front of his friends when he did not find you that, but him thinking about it wouldn't change anything because it already happend.

"I'm sorry, I'm just sorry" he looked like a puppy that got screamed at.

"You're sorry? I'm sorry too for being so annoying. Now leave. " You snorted and tried to close your door in front his face, but his left was faster than you.

"I'm not leaving, not until I make things right" he stated

You didn't have strenght to fight with him, you sat down on the floor and cried even louder than before.

That's when you felt arms wrapping around you and scouping you up a little bit until you were sat on Minsik's lap.

"I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry. You did not deserve to be treated that way. You are amazing and I don't know why have I said that it was different. I'm stupid" his hands was carresing your back in a calming manner all the time trough his dialogue.

"You're an asshole. Do you know that?" You sniffled and looked at him. He wiped your face with his sleves.

"I know, but I'm and asshole that loves you and is sorry about today. Please let me make it up to you."

"Okay, but this is first and the last chance" you hugged him

"Thank you" his hug on you got tighter.

He was sorry and he was ready to do everything for you to forgive him completly.

[ablackmoonrises]

Hogwarts for troubled youth Chapter 1, in which Moony can’t keep a Secret

[Posting here while I’m working on it, I won’t post to Ao3 before I’ve written a couple more chapters and so on] Remus has his DID under control. As long as it’s just him and Moony, they’ll manage, and the Wolf can howl all he wants, it won’t get to Anna.

Sirius knows a thing or two about gaps in memory, but when he falls for the easy-going Moony he’s not sure if he’s prepared to deal with Moony’s moody twin Remus, much less a little girl or a violently self-injurious Wolf.

Meanwhile James just wants to start his transition already, but the autism diagnosis that helped him finally make sense of who he is, now seems to prevent the one thing he wants more than even Lily’s attention: To get on Testosterone.

“I’m not Remus.” The words leave Moony’s mouth before they have a chance to get a hold of them. They tumble out of them, spilling all over the pretty new boy with the long black hair.

“Okay?” Sirius says, a question hidden in the confirmation, and Moony wants to punch themself hard. Instead they flash a bright smile at Sirius.

Moony would have been lying if they said they weren’t interested in the new boy. He was not the typical candidate for Hogwarts, rumour had it his parents were loaded and very much still alive. The pale dark-haired boy seemed intent to blend into the shadows, a silent observer with large grey eyes, following the comings and goings of other children from dark corners.

Moony would catch themself staring, losing track of James’ incessant blabbering, as the new boy – Sirius, Moony would remind themself – made his way to a new corner.

“Well you know..” Moony says, pulling back a bit. “I just like to be called Moony. Sometimes.”

Moony had come into existence again the night prior, casually opening his phone to check his conversation with Remus.

“We got to walk the dog with the new boy tomorrow”, it read, and Moony’s heart had started to race. “If I’m not there.. please don’t fuck it up. He seems cute.”

“That’s cool,” Sirius responds, tilting his head slightly as if trying to figure out why Moony is telling him this. Moony isn’t so sure either. They walk in silence, the big black dog panting at the end of its leash. Sirius’ hand is surprisingly steady as he’s pulled along.

“So… what’s the deal with this place?” Sirius asks finally, after an extended period of silence. “What do they do?”

Moony looks at Sirius and grins, a wicked smile replacing their calm exterior for a moment. “Well – it’s mostly a place to fatten up children before feeding us to the Witch,” they explain.

Sirius looks doubtful. “a Witch?” he asks, as if that’s the part that doesn’t make sense. Moony nods enthusiastically. “Yep! Well.. I believe her official title is doctor of psychology, but I call her the Witchdoctor.”

“And she’s going to eat us?” Sirius is somehow managing to lift one eyebrow, which is impressive and infuriatingly attractive.

“Yeah – just – gobble gobble. It’s a whole thing.” Moony shrugs. “She’s gonna spit ya out again, no worries, but each time she chews out another piece of your soul.”

“Well in that case I guess I won’t stay long, it’s not like I have a soul to begin with,” Sirius says with downcast eyes.

“Well aren’t you the cheerful one..” Moony comments, turning around to walk backwards while talking. “…Anyways, I’m sure you know what this place is on paper?” they ask, and almost trip over a bush. Maybe walking backwards isn’t as elegant a manoeuvre as they had hoped.

“It’s like.. a correctional facility?” Sirius says it like a question. “Like a mix of a boarding school and an orphanage..?”

“Ding ding ding!” Moony says cheerfully. “Less correctional facility, more treatment facility, I suppose?” Moony plasters a wide grin on his face, making sure to edge it far enough to be at least mildly unnerving. “In other words.. It’s a place for crazy people!”

“But I’m not crazy,” Sirius says, sounding surprisingly calm. Most people were more adamant when defending their sanity.

“Well that’s too bad..” Moony sighs. “You know what they say? All the best people are.”

“I’m not crazy…” Sirius repeats, and there’s that delicious level of desperate insecurity that makes Moony feel better about themself. “My family’s crazy though,” he says after a while. “And they’re not exactly good people.”

Moony doesn’t have a good comeback to that, partially because Wolf starts howling in his head, and partially because… well. Dude has a point.

They take the last of the round in silence, and Moony expects that to be the end of it. There’s a weird tension building in the air all the while, and Moony isn’t sure what to make of it. They hand the fluffy therapy dog back to Hagrid, and stand in the cold January weather for a moment, as if sizing each other up.

“…You don’t speak much do you?” Moony says finally, breaking the silence. Sirius shrugs.

“I speak when I have things to say.”

Fuck, this dude’s one-liner game is on point. Moony needs to get their head in the game.

“So… Guess I’ll go back to my room.” Moony says, and something flashes through Sirius’ eyes. The boy looks almost lost for a moment.

“Are you…” Moony begins, but stops themself. Sirius shakes his head, and Moony isn’t sure what they were asking or what Sirius is responding to at this point. This’ll be fun to analyse in the wee hours..

“So if you’re bored, you can come up.” Moony says, surprising even themself. Sirius’ eyes open a tad too much, before he schools his expression back into something more neutral.

“Sure.”

Moony shares their room with a depressed gremlin, a little girl and a rampaging Wolf. Usually they would have taken this under consideration and not have invited a total stranger, but apparently it’s just one of those days. And hey! Remus did tell Moony to be nice, or something to that effect.

To his credit, Sirius does not comment on the crayons littering the floor, nor the general state of disarray in Moony and Company’s room. Moony shoves some school papers off the bed, and gestures for Sirius to take a seat.

“So uh,, are you a tea drinker?” Moony asks lamely, feeling suddenly incredibly awkward about the presence of the posh boy in his crappy room.

“Why not,” Sirius answers fluidly, and god damn it, why is this motherfucker being so smooth all of a sudden? Moony nods and turns to the small kitchen in the other end of the room. They’re quiet while the water comes to a boil, partially because Moony honestly thinks there’s a special place in hell reserved for people who try to have conversation over the sound of a kettle. Like, who even does that?

As a result the silence is long and sticky, and Moony’s brain is working on overdrive. They can feel Sirius’ eyes on their back as they pour the water into two teacups. Moony takes a deep breath before turning around. They place the two cups on the bedside table, and stand awkwardly hovering for a moment, before slamming their ass down into the bed.

-say something- flashes through Moony’s mind. -you invited him here – say something –

Moony regrets not offering Sirius something stronger than tea, to loosen the mood, but then, they don’t want to risk getting in trouble. And who knows if they can trust this new boy yet.

“Why do you prefer Moony?” Sirius asks, slicing through the silence with precision. Moony startles. Damn, that’s right, he told Sirius that.

“I just.. sometimes Moony feels more right.” They say, it’s not a lie, not exactly. “I mean.. Moony is like..” they stop. “It’s just a joke since Remus Lupin sounds pretty fucking lunar, and I am a lunatic, so..” Moony laughs, half-lies flowing easily from their tongue. Okay, so Moony doesn’t usually go around claiming their own name, since everyone hear knows them all as Remus, but so what? No harm, no foul.

Moony is desperate to not be Remus.

“You keep referencing being insane,” Sirius says. “What’s that all about?”

Direct. Moony can appreciate that. But then, most people don’t ask and for a moment Moony is struggling.

“Oh you know.. the usual. When I was in the loony bin they called me loony loopy lupin, if that tells you anything..” they laugh. “You know, just… I have….” They stop, biting their lip for a second, feeling suddenly unsure how to proceed. Only James and some staff knows about their DID, and Remus is going to kill them all if Moony lets it slip to this practical stranger.

Maybe it’s Sirius’ calm inquisitory gaze. Maybe it’s the joint Moony smoked before going on their walk. Maybe … Just maybe.. Moony is getting pretty fucking tired of living the life of someone else.

“Okay so.. I basically have. Or I am. Yeah. I’m like…” Moony is aware they’re rambling, but they can’t stop themself. They’re starting to feel distant as the world starts to fade around them.

They come back to themself, realizing with horror that they’re still talking. “….so yea that’s like I’m the keykeeper and the princess is in the castle and Remus is the gate but he can’t open without the key and..” Moony stops abruptly, staring ahead of themself. “What?”

Sirius is looking somewhere between concerned and confused. Fuck. Moony hates when this happens. Also if they’re starting to black out, chances are Remus will be back soon, or worse, someone else. Time to get the witness out of there.

“…Right.” Sirius says, tilting his head. Moony hopes his darker skin-color hides his blush.

“So you said this princess is guarded by the big bad wolf,” Sirius says and Moony inwardly flinches as the Wolf starts clawing at its prison.  “But if the princess is guarded by a wolf, why do you need to have a key?”

“Uh…” Moony says, desperately trying to remember and make sense of whatever conversation they must have been having. After a moment they give up and let out a big sigh.

“Look mate,” Moony says. “This is gonna sound pretty fucking stupid, but if you wanna spend any amount of time with me you gotta know that I have an… incredibly shit memory.” They shrug in what they hope is a nonchalant manner. “I kind of blanked out on that whole conversation.. So your guess is as good as mine.”

Sirius nods thoughtfully. “Ok Moony,” he says. Then, terrifyingly, he adds: “How will I know when I meet Remus?” Moony’s eyes widen, and they almost drop the teacup they hadn’t been aware they were holding.

“Re-Remus..?” they ask. Fuck. They’ve really done it now. Moony is starting to sweat with panic. “I-I’m Remus..” The wolf is going to kill me – the wolf is going to kill me – the wolf is – no one can know – no one can know – our secret – our secret – secret – you are the gatekeeper; act it!

“Moony – “ Sirius is way too close now, he’s practically crowding them, and Moony wants to push him away but instead they just flinch and crawl awkwardly back unto the bed. The last of the tea drips into the sheets from the discarded cup.

- Anna stares at the stranger with the black hair and apologetic look on his face. She’s in a bed, something warm has soaked through her pants and the stranger is backing away, but she’s no fool and she’s going to scream bloody murder and –

Remus tends to blink into existence at the most inopportune moments. This time he comes to with a deep-seated sense of dread, like something is seriously wrong. For a moment he thinks he might be wrong. He’s just in bed, but it doesn’t take long for the unease to settle completely over him, as he recognizes the teacup bleeding into the bed. He looks up, and there, by the door, hangs a dark blue scarf. He’s seen this scarf before. It belongs to the cute new guy, Sirius. Remus pushes himself out of bed, his body is hurting in a dull ache that tells him Moony hasn’t been as careful with it as he ought to be. Not like Remus minds too much, the pain is just another reminder of his broken fucked up life.

Moony hasn’t left any notes, and Remus’ only clue is the blue scarf that hangs on the bed, and a low growl in his inner ear.

Whatever happened… the Wolf is not pleased.

[89tczier]

People are talking

The other five chuckle at the two’s antics, and it’s only then that something dawns on Ben so quick he nearly chokes on his beer.

“Holy shit,” he splutters, because how the fuck did it take him this long to fucking realise.

read on AO3 

word count: 3.9k

7 days before

“–and keep an eye on Ben and Bev!” Richie shouts, “I don’t want my bed broke–” he’s cut off by a very exasperated Eddie.

“Can it, Trashmouth,” He snaps, pulling Richie the rest of the way through the door by the lapels of his jacket. For some reason, those two were being trusted to bring back some actual alcohol rather than the shit Richie’s always left with at the end of the month. They all know its gonna take them twice as long than if anyone competent was sent, but the others are frankly just too lazy to offer themselves.

The other five chuckle at the two’s antics, and it’s only then that something dawns on Ben so quick he nearly chokes on his beer.

“Holy shit,” he splutters, because how the fuck did it take him this long to fucking realise.

Bev’s quick to respond, patting his back and giggling in a way that makes Ben feel a little loopy, “jeez, babe, you alright?”

Ben nods, composing himself under the watch of his friends, clearly interested in what could have possibly caused this outburst. “Yeah, sorry, it’s just,” Ben casts a glance back at the door, “they’re like… totally in love, right?” He’s met with nothing but confused looks.

“Richie and Eddie?” Stan asks incredulously while perched in Mike’s lap.

“Richie and Eddie,” he confirms.

Bill, currently nestled under Mike’s arm, snorts like it’s one of Richie’s stupid jokes, “the f-fuck are you on about?”

Ben almost gawks like he didn’t just figure this out, but he did kind of expect the pieces to fall quickly into place once he pointed it out, “have you not seen the way they act? Textbook married couple.”

“They’ve always been like that though,” Bev shrugs, her brows furrowed as she appears to be trying to follow Ben’s logic (he loves her for trying).

He raises a finger. “My point still stands,” and goes on to explain, “they’re literally always together, hanging off each other… who’s the first person Richie asks for at a party? Who does Eddie always sit next to on movie night? They just– how can you guys not see it?”

“You’re talkin’ absolute bullshit, Benny,” Mike shakes his head, “Eddie’s close to ripping Rich’s head off half the time.”

“Oh come on, if he was really that annoyed he’d have said something about it. Eddie doesn’t stand for anything he doesn’t like.” Ben takes a pointed sip of his shitty beer to punctuate and this point seems to land, and Ben would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the least bit satisfied with himself. He’d always had an eye for this stuff, even if he was rather shitty at acting upon it himself (but hey, it worked out pretty well for him).

“Leave it to Trashmouth Tozier to flirt with someone by annoying the life out of them,” Bev smiles.

“And leave it to Eddie fuckin’ Kaspbrak to flirt back with threats and holy fuck Ben I think you’re right.” Mike’s face goes blank.

“See!”

Bill still seems like he’s considering it, “it would explain a l-lot, mainly how Eddie hasn’t actually k-k-killed him yet… a-nd the fu-fucking hammock!”

A chorus of ‘holy shit’s go around the circle. Then it all becomes clear.

“God, they’ve had this since high school?” Bev snorts.

“Why haven’t they said anything?” Mike asks, “It’s not like we’re gonna care, we’re one big lovey mess,” he squeezes both Stan and Bill for emphasis.

“I don’t think they’re dating, necessarily, they’re just… in love.” Ben shrugs.

Bill grins, “now that guh-gives me an idea…”

“You’re hot when you scheme,” Stan hums, resting his head against Mike’s.

“Tell me about it,” Mike agrees, and is poked gently by Bill.

“I think, and I s-say this only for the b-benefit and happiness of my two dumbest friends, we should… encourage them to get a fuh-fucking move on.”

Bev shuffles forward and straightens up, “like… goad them together?”

Bill raises his bottle, “exactly,” and takes a sip while Mike and Stan nod to each other in agreement.

“Smokin’ hot.”

Bill chokes, and laughter fills the room as he curses his boyfriends out.

“Sounds like we’re missing out on something, Eds, they’re officially kicking us out,” Richie pretends to mope as they enter Richie’s apartment again, a bottle in both of his hands. Eddie scoffs.

“Maybe you, asshole, you’re the one who got held up by some dog on the street,”

They all wait for it.

“And don’t fuckin’ call me Eds!”

Richie grins like he’s won a prize.

–

6 days before

Bev isn’t the least bit fucking surprised when she wakes up to see she’s been added to a group chat called “operation: let’s get our two losers together”. She smiles, shifting some in Ben’s arms. He stirs, letting out a warm breath against her skin that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight.

“You see this?” She asks, turning the screen some so he can see. He squints and lets out a sleepy chuckle which makes Bev melt a little. She runs a hand over his forearm and locks their hands together, squeezing for good measure.

“God, this is either gonna go great or really terrible,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the skin where her neck meets her shoulders.

She hums, turning to face him, “I don’t know… I have a good feeling about this.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah… they seem meant for each other, I guess…” she pauses, smiles, and kisses him, “we all do.”

Ben smiles against her mouth and is about to return the favour when a string of texts floods both their phones.

put it away Benny Boy, we’ve got matchmaking to do ~ Big Bill, sent at 08:23

Meet us in our flat ~ Stan, sent at 08:23

guys, give em the chance to wake up, they had a long night ;) ~ Mikey, sent at 08:24

they need to hurry up and get a move on, we’ve been talkin all night and they need to get caught up ~ Big Bill, sent at 08:24

Well, not all night ~ Stan, sent at 08:25

…cease ~ Big Bill, sent at 08:25

“On second thought, this is the worst idea ever.”

She cackles, dragging both of them up and towards the bathroom. The boys could wait a little longer.

“Casa de Stan, recently co-owned by Bill and Mike too, speaking please?” This is always how he answers, the dope.

“Hey Mikey,” Ben says, voice still a little groggy from sleep. God, he’s hot, Bev thinks to herself, slotting a gloved hand into his.

“Hey guys!” The door clicks open, and they breeze up the first flight of stairs.

Bill greets them at the door, still in his sleep shirt. “Don’t,” he deadpans, right as Bev’s about to poke fun at the bruising around his neck and chest. She grins slyly at him, patting him on the back as she passes him.

“Benny! Bev! Get in here!” Mike calls from the den. Bill follows them in, taking a seat next to Mike and throwing his legs over his boyfriend’s lap. Stan’s stood hunched over the small stove on the other side of the room, scrambling some eggs which smell unfairly delicious to a moderately hung-over Beverly.

“You’ll get some in a minute,” he states, reading her mind.

“Always knew you were my favourite,” she said, which earns a ‘hey’ from both Mike and Bill.

Bill calls them all to sit down, explaining that they need to actually plan this out as quickly as possible. Richie and Eddie were the only ones with early classes that day and it would be suspicious (and mean) if they were told to keep at bay while the rest of them hung out.

They chow down on some scrambled eggs (which exceed expectations, Bev reminds herself to get the recipe off of Stan), and it ends up working out like this:

They’re going to pry for a few days, see if they can get a rise out of either of them, then at the end of the week they’re all going to meet up at Stan’s place. Using an excuse they haven’t though of yet, they’re going to try to get both Eddie and Richie into the bathroom at the same time and then block the door.

“N-nothing like a confined space and a l-little bit of drink to get the vibe g-going,” Bill grins.

“Speakin’ from experience there, Big Bill?” Beverly playfully chides, giggling as Bill’s ears go pink.

Ben hums quietly, “what if they don’t go for it?”

“They looked three seconds away from mauling each other last night, I think they’ll jump at any excuse they get,” Mike points out, and the plan is set.

They say their goodbyes afterwards, and as Bev fiddles with the key to their flat, Ben takes her wrist gently, turning her around and pulling her into him.

“I love you,” he says, and kisses her in that wonderful way he does that leaves her wanting so much more.

“I love you too,” She grins, draping her arms over his shoulders, “always will.”

–

4 days before

Richie is head over fucking heels, Bill decides.

The two of them offer to help Eddie study terms for a quiz at the end of the week, which fuck knows why they had any hope of that working.

They start off well, Richie and himself trading roles as Eddie nailed each piece of terminology about cognitive processes with detailed explanations to boot. It takes about ten minutes of their relaxed sprawling over Eddie’s floor for their resolve to break. It starts with Richie’s foot-tapping Eddie’s shin to the beat of whatever song he’s humming as Bill reads from the flashcards. Then it’s the complements, and holy fuck, how has Bill never caught this before.

“So smart, so cute!”

“Rich, if you don’t shut up, I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Can’t help it, I’m like a mama bird watching her baby take flight for the first time. Just wanna puke some worms into your mouth.”

“Richie! That’s fucking disgusting!” Eddie near screeches, pushing himself up and lunging forward, knocking Richie back onto the ground and pinning him down. Richie’s laughing like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen, and Eddie is too. He can’t believe these assholes are in college.

Okay, this is perfect, Bill thinks, as right on cue, Eddie leaves the room to grab his textbook.

“Got somethin’ on my face, Billy?” Richie asks once he catches the ‘care to explain?’ look Bill is giving him.

“Don’t w-worry about it,” Bill gives his best nonchalant shrug, “it’s just cute, that’s all.”

And he catches it, the signature ‘i’m fucking whipped’ look: the dopey smile, the avoidance of eye contact, the excepting laugh. Gotcha, bitch.

“Isn’t he just?”

–

2 days before

Stan’s starting to fret.

The text came through a few minutes ago, and Stan is reeling.

eddie said he met a guy last night??? went home w him and everythin??? ~ Bevvy, sent at 13:03

“A one night stand?” Mike asks, leaning over Bill’s shoulder to read with Bill’s glasses on because his own are fuck knows where.

“Fucking apparently?”

“Okay, this might not be as b-bad as it seems. They d-don’t know about the other l-liking them, yeah? Eddie’s p-probably, like, in denial or coping or som-something.” Bill slots his glasses off of Mike’s face.

Stan stops pacing and takes a breath, collapsing onto the arm chair opposite, “you’re right, probably just Eddie being stubborn.”

“‘Atta boy, Stan,” Mike grins, shifting to the side and stretching out his legs, resting them in Bill’s lap.

did eddie seem interested in the guy? ~ Big Bill, sent at 13:11

not really, didn’t really talk about him much ~ Bevvy, sent at 13:12

They all sighed.

“Why are we so invested in this again?” Stan mumbles.

“Because it’s gonna be entertaining as fuck if we pull it off.”

–

1 day before

Mike has more luck.

He, Bev and Eddie are browsing around the grocers, preparing for tomorrow when they hear a yelp from the isle next to them. Mike peeks around, seeing a very excited looking Richie pick Eddie up from behind, bouncing him around like he weighs nothing. Mike expects a slew of curses, but Eddie giggles like Mike’s never heard before.

“Put me down, you asshole! You’re gonna knock something over.”

“You’re the one flailing your limbs, Eds– Mike and Ikes! Fancy seeing you here!” He damn near drops Eddie, who’s flushed and breathless.

“We’re trying to shop, you asshole, can’t we have five minutes peace,” Eddie gives him a light shove.

“Oh I know, I’m on a last minute supply run.”

And Mike’s stupid enough to fall for it and ask, “why?”

“Pickin’ up Eddie’s mom, need condoms.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and they both laugh as Eddie goes ballistic.

“Get the fuck out of here, Trashmouth, before I commit a crime,” he shoots Richie daggers, and Rich gives him a salute.

“Sir yes sir,” he half-shouts, sprinting over to a very tired looking cashier.

Eddie’s still watching him, “asshole,” he says with so much fondness Mike thinks he might start floating.

“You don’t seem to mind,” He pokes at Eddie’s pinked cheeks, snorting as Eddie smacks it away from his face.

“Hey dipshits,” Bev calls, carrying a basket full of crisps and liquor, “did you get the chasers?”

Eddie sighs, turning on his heel and walking back to the fridge, which Mike’s guessing was where he was heading before Richie snatched him up.

“Will diet do?”

“Sure, go crazy.” Mike says, as he quickly types.

eddie’s absolutely gone for him, this is gonna go great ~ Mikey, sent 21:33

–

The night of

It’s a slow day for Eddie. His test has been eating away at him slowly and painfully (no matter how  many times Richie said he’d crush it) and while he left feeling confident, he knows he’s still gonna stress about it. It goes fine, but he’s still thinking about it during his shift and the worry hasn’t left him.

It’s just a stupid test, he thinks as his stomach continues to knot itself. Thank god he’s getting drunk tonight.

Eddie lives the furthest away from Stan’s (and Bill and Mike’s) and he really doesn’t wanna walk that far in the cold so he stops by Richie’s after class, knowing he probably has a couple of nice shirts left over there from nights where he’s really too drunk to go home, inevitably leaving the next morning in one of Richie’s shirts instead (huh, funny how that happens). He also knows that if he so much as catches sight of his roommate, he’ll fucking blow up.

He fishes Richie’s key from his pocket, lets himself in and thinks Christ, would it kill Rich to clean up a bit? He’s certain that the pillows from the couch are still there from last Friday. He steps over them after pushing off his shoes in the corner.

“Rich, You fuckin slob! Clean your apartment,” Eddie calls out in place of a hello.

“Afternoon to you too, Eddie!” He hears back. Eddie follows his voice through to the bedroom and finds himself lost for fucking words.

Richie’s standing in front of his bathroom mirror, shirtless, drying off his mess of curls with a towel. He doesn’t notice him for a moment, and Eddie takes that moment to curse the way those jeans hang from his hips. He lingers on Richie’s wiry frame for just a moment more than he probably should.

Damn, Tozier he huffs.

“You peeping on me, Eddie?” Richie’s dumb Southern Belle accent should drive Eddie up the wall, and Eddie does roll his eyes, though it’s really just for show. They both know that.

“Your den is a mess.”

“I like it that way,” Richie’s quick to reply, brushing past Eddie as he heads for his dresser.

“Tough shit, I don’t,” Eddie snaps back, now back in his rhythm as the blood returns to his brain.

Richie grins as he picks through his shirt, taking his sweet time with it and all Eddie can focus on is the hint of his happy trail poking out above the waistband of his jeans. He chooses one, and now Eddie can actually look away as Richie holds the tee up for his approval.

It’s his The Cure one, black, matching his nails and jeans, and easily Eddie’s favourite, both on Richie and to wear himself (it’s comfortable, and it definitely has nothing to do with the looks Richie gives him in it).

They kill time by fixing up Richie’s couch and watching weird ASMR videos on Richie’s laptop. Eddie’s sure the effect is lessened by only having one earbud, but it’s still uncomfortable but so worth hearing Richie snort each time Eddie cringes.

“Is it just me,” Richie says, hitting pause on a woman in cat ears about to pretend to ask them out, “or have the others been acting weird.”

“Right?” Eddie yanks the earbud out, “Bev’s been like… weirdly invasive… like more than she usually is.”

“They all have, what do you think it’s about?”

“I have a funny fucking feeling we’re gonna find out.”

–

There’s a weird fucking vibe in the place when he and Eddie arrive.

“We miss out on the world’s weirdest orgy or something?” Richie asks, mostly joking, as eyes fall on the two of them.

Stan makes an exaggerated gagging sound, and Bill’s face screws up. What a great audience he has.

“Shut up and sit down, Trashmouth, we’re doing shots,” Bev playfully snarls at him.

It gets a little less weird the more Richie has to drink, but he’s either going crazy or there’s something going on. He looks at Eddie, and Eddie shrugs right before he throws a shot back, and Richie gets to watch his Adam’s Apple bob and his eyes squeeze shut and his nose crinkle up because Eds–

“–cant fuckin stand tequila.”

God, he’s cute.

He meets Richie’s gaze, “what the fuck are you smirking about?”

He’s hot, too.

“You take every shot like it’s your fucking first, Eds,” he teases back and it’s huskier than he means it to come out, because he’s tipsy and can’t stop staring at that little drop of liquor running down Eddie’s chin.

Bill chokes, sending everything in the shot glass over his face. Mike cackles.

“Rich, can you go g-get me a f-fuckin washcloth.”

And it’s there that everything ramps up to fuckin’ eleven. Ben starts grinning, Stan’s got that fucking look on his face that can only mean trouble.

“Why the fuck do I have to do it?”

“C-cuz you m-made me spit every-w-where!”

Richie puts his hands up in mock defeat, “alright, alright, damn.” And he stands up, shuffling into the bathroom.

“Oh!” Stan calls after him, “my contacts too!”

“Aye aye!” Richie yells back, scanning the mirror cabinet for anything resembling a fucking contact case. Disinfectant, no, flavoured lube, nice but no… Richie’s squinting as if that’s gonna fucking help. “Can’t fuckin find ‘em, Stan!” He calls back out to them.

He hears a soft “Eddie, go help him,” from Mike.

“You’re going blind for real, fuckface, lemme see,” Eddie rolls his eyes at him, and tries shoving Richie out of the way with his side, but really just ends up pushed up against him. He’s warm and smells of spirits and vanilla, Richie doesn’t fight back, nor does he notice the others approaching the bathroom either.

He’s so focused on the way Eddie’s tongue pokes out of his mouth ever so slightly when he’s concentrating he’s a second too slow to realise.

“When did Stan start wearing contacts– oh shit, Eds, wait–” Richie’s barely gotten the words out before the bathroom door slams shut, making Eddie jump closer against him.

The other losers are whooping and hi-fiving from the other side of the door, and Eddie turns to stare at Richie as if to say what the fuck just happened???

“Beats me.”

“Admit it and we’ll let you out!” Bev says in what Richie assumes is a terrible Terminator impression.

It takes a second (again, because liquor and Eddie) to realise, and he flashes Eddie the biggest grin he can muster.

“Golly gee, Eds, I think they figured it out!”

He’s not being loud, but the others can apparently hear him, because they’re gloating stops in an instant.

Eddie matches his grin, “fucking finally,”

“Wait, what?” Mike sounds confused.

The door opens, and the others are staring at them like their fucking martians.

“Wait what the fuh-fuck?”

Hm, that’s interesting.“I have a feeling there’s been a big misunderstanding,” Richie starts, still grinning.

“Did you guys do it already?”

Eddie snorts, Richie scratches the back of his neck, “uh, gonna have to ask you to be a bit more specific, Benny.”

“Confess. Did we not hear it?”

Eddie frowns, “confess to what?”

“Don’t be difficult, Kaspbrak,” Stan groans, “that you’ve been secretly pining for each other for fuckin’ ages?”

“Is that what you shut us in there for?” Richie asked, his voice creeping up an octave because oh, this was delicious.

The five of them answer simultaneously “yes!”

Richie looks down at Eddie, who holds his gaze for all of one second before they dissolve back into shit eating grins.

“God we really gave you guys too much credit.”

“Stop being coy, trashmouth!”

“We’ve literally been dating for three months, holy shit, guys.” Eddie rubs his face like he’s exasperated.

“What?” Ben nearly yells.

“Here we are thinking you dumbfucks finally figured it out–”

“In fairness, Rich, they got halfway there.”

“When the fuck were you planning on telling us?” Stan demands, keeping a hold of Mike’s arm for balance.

Eddie volunteers to explain. “Well, it took a few weeks to kinda… figure stuff out, and we were gonna tell you then but then Rich wondered how long it would take you guys to figure it out on your own–”

“So you guys kept this shit on for three months?”

There's a mixture of confusion and amusement around the room. Richie had been kind of worried that they’d be angry that the two of them had kept this for so long, but upon learning that they’d also been scheming themselves for the past week, Richie feels pretty fuckin justified now.

Eddie gives his best ‘are you fucking joking’ face, “you guys never said anything! And as much as we wanted to just get over with, it was so fucking funny to see how much shit you guys would let us get away with.”

“Such as?”

“The fact that you, Beverly, bought “I needed a shirt after my ‘walk of shame’” as a reasonable excuse as to why I was standing in Richie’s kitchen, wearing one of his dumb band tees, absolutely covered in hickeys.”

The other four turned to look at Bev, who pursed her lips and mumbled, “understandable,” as Stan whisper yelled “how the fuck did you miss that?”

“Stan you literally walked in on us mid makeout!”

“What? When?” He demands.

“You burst into my flat, mid-rant…”

There’s a good five minutes of the two of them listing all the times there beautiful, supportive, oblivious as all fuck friends had missed what was so clearly in front of them. The energy shifted into something warm and jovial.

“So,” Richie takes Eddie’s hand, “which one of you started this.”

Everyone answers “Ben.”

Eddie grins up at him, and Richie swears he’ll die right there, “told ya so.”

[despressolattes]

AFTERMATH | CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE | LEGACIES

book masterlist » book one masterlist

< previous chapter

———

"Did Emma slip everyone fucking happy pills?" wondered Lilah to herself, noticing almost everyone acting kind of loopy. She was sitting with Hope as her cousin mixed up the spell the teacher wrote on the board, "HEALING WITH MAGIC," the instructions for a "Quick healing gel" following.

Rafael walked in slowly, feeling awkward and a little out of place, his hand on the one strap of his backpack that was actually on his back. He took a seat with Lilah and Hope.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she smiled. "Thanks for coming to help my cousin."

Rafael showed up on Lilah's request: a note in his pocket asking him to come to the classroom she was inside of. With the Saltzman twins acting weird and Hope not wanting to ask Landon since he wouldn't heal on his own, Rafael was really the only person Lilah talked to.

MG and Kaleb had crossed her mind, but she hadn't gotten that close to them. She herself couldn't be the one Hope performed the healing spell on since she healed a lot faster than everyone else.

"Anything to avoid the wolves talking about that stupid talent show," he replied.

All three of them laughed, Hope's sounding more forced than the other two.

"Apparently, deciding what we do is a alpha thing," he explained.

The teacher started talking, saying, "Once you have your gel mixed, make a shallow cut on your volunteer."

"Do you trust me?" Hope asked, looking up from her mixture at Rafael.

He looked at Lilah, then to her, his voice cracking as he nervously said, "Kind of."

"Well, if this does work, Lilah will just kiss you better," Hope said, before quickly bringing her hand to her mouth to cover it. "Oops, that was my inside voice."

That was a Lizzie thing to say... Lilah thought, wondering what the actual hell was going on with her cousin.

"So, what're you gonna do?" Hope asked as she started to place the gel onto the cut she placed right below Rafael's face.

"Huh?" he asked nervously.

"About the talent show?" Hope asked.

"Oh, um, one of the wolves said he was gonna teach me, to-to juggle."

"Juggle?" snorted Lilah.

"Come on, you should do something bold, spontaneous, totally unexpected."

The cut on Rafael's face closed itself, and the teacher congratulated Hope on her good work. Rafael touched his face, and Lilah reached over, grabbing his chin to have him face her so she could get a look himself. His lips were slightly open, watching her intently while she inspected his face.

"See?" Hope said. "Okay, you two, sorry to bolt, but I gotta go figure out what Landon and I are good at together. Besides making out."

"Baaaarrrfff," Lilah said dramatically.

Hope got up to leave, leaving her cousin and the werewolf in the classroom together.

"Something is seriously wrong," Lilah told Rafael. "And I have no idea what because the magical pony is still in it's trap with Dorian."

—

Whatever happened at the talent show, Lilah missed it. Whatever it was that Rafael had said, she wasn't there to hear it. But he said something, and because everyone was acting to loopy to remember and Landon sure as hell wasn't going to tell her, the chances were that she was never never going to hear it.

"Raf, Raf wait up!" Landon said, running after his best friend. "Raf... something you wanna talk about?"

Rafael stopped walking and said, "You know I had that thing in my ear, making me say weird things. I don't even know what I said."

"You were saying some pretty weird things about someone that's pretty much off limits," Landon said. "She's my girlfriend's cousin, but not only that, there's a lot of hurt in Lilah right now. You... you know that right? And Roman can walk through that door any day, and I'm betting they'd be together again. I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want to see her break anymore than she already has, either."

"Like I said, I have no clue what I said, so if I said something about Lilah that I shouldn't have, don't worry about it," Rafael told him, trying to shrug it off.

What Lilah did see was what looked like an intense conversation between the brothers, watching as they did a bro-handshake and went their separate ways, a gloomy look on Rafael's face as he told Landon they were fine. He left out of the room, and Lilah went to follow him.

He stood right outside of the entrance to the library, pressed against the wall looking sad while people passed by.

Lilah was off limits, he was trying to tell himself. She's got a lot of hurt in her right now...

"Rafael?"

His head snapped in the direction of her voice, seeing her standing there. Her face showed the concern her voice was dripping with.

"I'm okay, Lilah," he said, starting to walk through the corridor but he heard her footsteps speed up and arms wrapped around him from behind. He stopped walking, feeling the girl's arms wrap around him as she pressed herself to his face, her cheek near the bottom of his shoulder blade.

"I don't know what's going on, but I'm here," she said, not letting either of them move. His hands went to her arms, holding them. "In a matter of months, a lot of things happened with me. And I'm glad I can always count on you. So... just know you can count of me, too."

————

With the commotion that was the unicorn, the urn went missing, and Alaric was frantic because he was sure he had something to do with it. Trying to find it wasn't easy.

"You asked Kaleb to go to Maple Hollows with you guys? Why?" Lilah asked, looking at Alaric with a confused look as she sat on her bed, watching her cousin pack.

"He didn't go home for spring break, and I'm not too sure if I can trust him with MG," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "And since you didn't want to come with us or go to New Orleans to see Freya, are you sure you don't want to go see your mom?"

"I'm positive. Now back track, what else did I freaking miss? What about him and MG?" she asked.

"Lots," Alaric chuckled. "You stay safe and out of trouble. Hope, I'll see you downstairs."

Alaric smiled at the Mikaelson girls before leaving.

"Why aren't you coming with, anyways?" Hope asked, folding the clothes she picked out for the the Saltzman Spring Break trip to Maple Hollows, which turned into a monster hunting trip, Dorian, Emma, and MG all tagging along, too.

"Someone has to hold down the fort with all the adults I trust gone," Lilah chuckled. "I'm cool off of leaving the monster chasing to you. Just... no killing the Saltzman twins, alright?"

"Are you sure you don't want to go home to see Freya?" she asked.

"If I do, I can always just leave," Lilah replied. "I'll be fine. I have Rafael, Landon, I can go and actually talk to MG more. I feel like he and I haven't even talked since Landon and Raf first got here, and he used to be one of my best friends. I was today years old when I found out there was drama between him and Kaleb. I feel like I'm missing out on everyone's lives too much already."

"Okay, you watch our boys, I'll watch the girls," Hope said, turning around to hug her cousin. "I'll see you in a week. Gotta go fix my mistakes since I thought a unicorn was cute."

Lilah laughed, plopping back down onto her bed as her cousin left through the door with her luggage.

"Bring snacks!" Lilah yelled behind her. "Try to win the Saltz twins over with food!"

—

"Okay, boys, I need Rafael to pack up!" Lilah announced, walking straight into Rafael and Landon's room, without knocking.

When she realized Landon was not in the room and Rafael was changing, she also realized she probably should have knocked.

"Oh, God, I am so sorry," she said, flushing a bright red as she turned around quickly.

Rafael frantically tried to get his pants on, but was struggling now that he was flustered.

"What is happening here?" Landon asked, walking towards his bedroom to see his girlfriend's cousin standing there red while his foster brother was pantless.

"I entered without knocking," Lilah said, still embarassed. She cleared her throat as Rafael said she could turn around, Landon walking past her into her room. She turned on her heels, clapping her hands together and pointing at Rafael. "Yes, as I said. Pack."

"For what...?" Landon trailed off.

"Damon and Elena Salvatore, yes I said Salvatore, as in the Salvatore school, anyways, they want to go on a little romantic date, and want me to watch their kids for a few days," Lilah said. "And I was wondering if Raf wanted to come with me."

"I'll come," Landon said.

"Really bro, you and kids?" Rafael asked his foster brother with disbelief.

"Hey, I'm not the one with known anger issues here. I think I can babysit some children," joked Landon.

Rafael picked up one of his pillows and threw it at Landon.

"Doesn't matter, the more the merrier," Lilah said. "Both of you back for like three days. Thanks!"

She hurried away, glad she got some extra help. Stefanie was eight and easy to take care of, but Lexi, their youngest, was a peculiar two year old that only ever wanted Elena or Damon, and never Lilah or Hope when they babysat.

———

CHARACTER FILES

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

And since we never know what Landon and Rafael were doing that spring break when Kaleb, Hope, Alaric, Emma, Dorian, and the twins went out of town and got quarantined by Malivore, Imma just have them go with Lilah to babysit the Salvatore children. I have no idea Stefanie's age in the show, and I also made Lexi up, named after Stefan's wonderful bestie.

[illegiblewords]

Oh god so sometimes I double check FFXIV cutscenes either for shits and giggles or because I want to see if I missed something.

All I want in life rn is a scene of Emet-Selch learning the precise circumstances of Lahabrea’s death, because every single time I have gone back to the final Heavensward quest (as in, the quest literally titled Heavensward) his plan gets more and more unfortunate. It makes me laugh and cringe and yell at screens. Out of every character in the game Emet-Selch 100% canon confirmed understands EXACTLY WHY that was such a horrendous idea and I just need to experience that moment in real time.

Because holy shit it just gets so much dumber with each watch. I’m actually mildly upset, but not in a “devs goofed” way but in a “GO THE FUCK TO BED LAHABREA JESUS CHRIST” way.

Because apparently it is also canon that the guy was basically loopy from sleep deprivation 24/7 by word of Gamescom, and Igeyorhm is just not very bright and a terrible enabler. And this is consistent with her little “hahahaha I kind of fucked up one of thirteen shards of existence we desperately need oops” escapade.

But okay I’m gonna try to recap this because I haven’t posted my rant about why Lahabrea messed up so badly and needed to go the fuck to sleep on tumblr. My affection for him as a character increased exponentially after realizing he is sort of a loser and all the other Ascians are catty-judging him for it. While I’ll acknowledge the devs and say he probably has solid ideas in him somewhere past the HAHAHAHA LORD ZODIARKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!111!! and sleep deprivation and $5 words, those are not good odds for success.

Basically.

There were like a billion points preceding the moment where Thordan up and ate him that Lahabrea should've gotten the hell out of dodge. The entire reason he didn't was because he had to do his flashy experiment with Igeyorhm on the Warrior of Light. The way she agreed gives me the impression that he'd probably been nagging her about it behind the scenes for a while. Frankly I wouldn't be surprised if he'd tried asking other Ascians too and she was just the one who actually entertained him. Everyone else was like “LAHABREA THIS IS A TERRIBLE IDEA GO THE FUCK TO BED” but he’s loopy so of course he ignores them. Guy’s face basically lights up when Igeyorhm’s all m'kay lets do it on going Ascian Prime. Doing a high power experiment involving your own aether and a colleague's aether while a known Ascian-killer is in the room, without necessarily knowing how it's gonna go and what the effects will be? That alone was not a good idea. But oooooh they'll be so powerful, surely then they'll be able to defeat the Warrior of Light once and for all. Right? Right? Lahabrea and Igeyorhm were so wiped after that stunt failed that neither one of them could stand, let alone make a dark tunnel to flee the scene. Igeyorhm dies literally the moment after she suggests retreat, when the WoL uses auracite. Lahabrea, who really really should have had a little voice at the back of his head by then going "maybe I should focus on getting out of here", instead gets cocky and comments that now there's no way for the WoL to murder him too. Still can't even stand upright. Just running his mouth. Thordan enters with another eye. Thordan repeatedly makes ominous comments about being 500% done with Ascian nonsense for about five minutes. Thordan takes on a millenia of prayer from the notoriously devout Halonic church plus Nidhogg eye #2. No little voice for Lahabrea. Kind of read like it didn't occur to him he was in serious trouble until the moment primal Thordan said he condemned him to death. And by then he's still staggering around like a baby deer from the Ascian Prime misadventure plus being trounced by Warrior of Light.

But then.

THEN.

It fucking hits me.

Lahabrea after getting thrown out of his Ascian flesh-mecha is all WTF HOW DID YOU DIVIDE US WITH THE POWER OF LIGHT????

And I stared for about thirty seconds before just going “oh my god.”

Because another tidbit Emet-Selch confirmed?

Hydaelyn was tailor-made to divide shit. That is her biggest power. That is literally her MO. It’s the reason why, with less overall aether at her disposal, she was able to defeat Zodiark anyway. She was strategically designed to exploit that weakness.

Warrior of Light, blessed by Hydaelyn herself... what the fuck do you think their power’s gonna include?

Motherfucking division.

And like. Any alert Ascian who wasn’t Igeyorhm would probably have a moment’s pause and be like “no Lahabrea it’s a bad idea and it won’t work take a nap”.

Then instead of pausing to consider why he’s getting this response over and over again, wondering if maybe he missed something obvious--impossible of course, he’s Amaurot’s greatest orator and top of phantomology. Couldn’t possibly have fucked up.

...he gets indignant, conscious that people make catty comments behind his back, and determined to prove them all wrong. With this doomed plan.

And Igeyorhm is just like YAY ONE OF THE UNSUNDERED IS GIVING ME A CHANCE TO PROVE I’M NOT A FUCK UP AGAIN RIGHT ON, and is oblivious enough that the issues in Lahabrea’s plan shoot right over her head.

I still hope that through some weird twist the guy isn't totally dead just because he needs to be held accountable for how stupid that whole escapade was for him. And.

AND.

To add insult to injury.

Result of Lahabrea's experiment wasn't even impressive either. Ascian Prime was not particularly powerful. If he really, really wanted to try fusion--WoL is not where you do the test run. Even if it's the first time one of his fellow Ascians agreed to indulge him. Igeyorhm has a history of questionable judgment and of all people Lahabrea should have known better. ಠ_ಠ

EDIT: I am leaving old analysis up for posterity but have since reblogged a new understanding under this post that is sad as fuck rather than funny. I don’t begrudge past!me or other peeps for laughing at the old interpretation, but it’s kind of an “oh. oh no shit I fucked up and laughed at a terrible thing in ignorance” situation. Still love Lahabrea to bits and I think Igeyorhm is rad as hell, have added respect and appreciation for both now.

[marriedthedark]

Ladybug Week: Day 2 - Bedtime Stories

Modern AU, 1.4k words

Ruby blindly groped the surface of her bed for the box of tissues she was currently mowing through. Her nose seemed to be a never ending stream of snot and suffering as she cracked open her eyes to stare hopelessly at the ceiling fan above.

No doubt about it. She was sick.

"Hhnnhng," she groaned as she blew her nose for what must have been the thousandth time that evening. It was just her luck that she would come down with something the same day Yang had left for a road trip with her fiancé, Weiss.

She couldn't call her. Knowing Yang she would turn the car around the moment she got the message and go back to take care of her. Even if she did decide to stay on the road, Ruby knew she would remain an anxious mess for the remainder of the trip knowing her sister was home alone with nobody to take care of her. She was going to have to face a long evening with nothing but a growing pile of used tissues and the gentle whirr of the ceiling fan to keep her company.

Unless...

Only her hand moved as Ruby again groped around the bed; this time for her cellphone. She squinted in protest at the bright light emitting from the screen as she began thumbing through her contacts in the otherwise dark room.

"Hey, Blake? I don't mean to bug you, but I think I got the flu, and Yang already left with Weiss. Do you think you can, oh I don't know, make sure I don't die. Or something."

~~

About an hour later soft knock on the door stirred Ruby out of her light slumber. She knew Blake was coming and yet the hour of mental preparation did nothing to ease her into leaving the warm confines of her bed.

”Coming,” she managed to garble out as she began hobbling to the entryway of the apartment. Sure enough Blake was waiting on the other side of the door, a rather large paper bag hanging from her arm.

”I’m sorry I took so long. I made a couple stops on the way here.”

”Oh don’t worry about it,” Ruby drawled out as she sniffed back another onslaught of mucus from pouring out of her nose. “I think I’m just gonna go back to b-bed.”

“Do you need any help? You sound awful.” Blake moved to the kitchen where she began removing a container of fresh chicken soup from her bag.

“Oh, that came out a little harsher than I intended,” she lightly scolded herself.

”No no no you’re fine. I’m just glad you’re here, Blake. Cause if you weren’t then Yang might have come back to a corpse in the bed surrounded by a wall of tissues."

The corners of Blake’s mouth turned up slightly in a small smile.

"That won’t happen as long as I’m around. Remember, I’m the same person who had to take care of Yang during one of her infamous hangovers."

Now it was Ruby’s turn to smile. “Yeah well I can’t really blame her for last time, with Weiss accepting her proposal and all."

Blake laughed at the memory of a loopy Yang gushing to her about how Weiss was practically crying when she pulled the ring out of her pocket.

“Agreed. I’m really happy for them.”

With that, Blake began to walk towards the bedroom, a steaming hot bowl of soup balanced between her hands.

“You should try and eat something. I hope this diner’s soup is good.”

Soon after the two girls made their way to the bedroom. As Ruby enjoyed her soup, Blake sat on the foot of the bed with a novel on her lap.

Once she had her fill, Ruby placed the bowl on her nightstand.

”Hey Blake, can you do me a teensy, tiny favor?”

“Of course.”

”Would it be stupid if I asked you to read me a bedtime story?” There was a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

Blake felt the tips of her ears warm at the request. While she adored reading in her own free time, she had never really read aloud to someone before. Still, the sight of a wide-eyed, runny-nosed Ruby was one that could not be resisted.

“Um, sure. I think I have some nice short stories saved on my phone.”

She quickly pulled her phone from her pocket as she began navigating her list of saved stories.

“What are you in the mood for? Action? Romance?”

“Something happy. I’m doing enough of the sad depressing stuff already.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed affectionately at Ruby’s joke. Even when she was sick she still managed to say the cutest things.

“How does ‘The Girl and the Beast’ sound?”

Ruby’s face visibly brightened at the mention of the title.

"It sound’s great! Please tell it to me!”

Blake grinned at Ruby’s elated reaction. God, this girl was so adorable. After dramatically clearing her throat, she began her narration

“Long ago there lived a girl named Mirana…”

As Blake told the tale of a young Mirana, a human princess who ran away in order to escape her royal duties and live alongside her white tiger, Bestia, she found herself becoming quite immersed in her narration duties. She donned on different voices for the characters and even acted out certain scenes she felt were “necessary.” Ruby couldn’t believe how much Blake was enjoying herself, and her heart fluttered in her chest at the notion that she was responsible for this joyful experience.

Further in the story, Mirana was soon cornered by the royal guards. Their mission was to return the defiant princess back to her family to assume her duties as heir. With her faithful pet at her side, Mirana and Bestia fought valiantly in an attempt to flee from their pursuers.

“Bestia reared on her hindlegs,” Blake described, “desperate to protect her princess from the selfish men who dare threaten her. But as she lunged towards Lord Segan…”

Blake’s voice halted in her throat as she was met with a startling realization. She remembered reading this story before, and the ending was the very opposite of happy. She recalled how Bestia soon dies from the arrow of a guard hiding among the tree tops, forcing Mirana to surrender to the royal guard and be dragged back to her palace. This time without her dear pet.

“Blake, you ok?” Ruby’s weak voice interrupted her inner turmoil. “I wanna know what happens."

“Y-yes. Sorry, I just lost my place is all.”

Blake straightened her posture. There was no way she was going to disappoint Ruby with this tragic story. There was only one thing she thought she could do.

Well, lets hope my improv skills are as good as my narrating skills.

“Bestia tackled him, growling mere inches from the Lord’s petrified face…”

To Blake’s surprise (and relief) she found her own version of the story coming to her quite easily. Rather than being captured, Mirana managed to mount Bestia and fight her way out of the ambush. Soon the duo made their way deeper into the forest and were met with a family of manticores. Moved by Bestia and Mirana’s acts of selfless bravery to protect the other, the manticores blessed Bestia with her own pair of wings so that they may have an easier time fleeing from unwanted intruders.

“…With her new pair of wings, Bestia and Mirana flew off together, free to travel the world where none may spy on them. And they both lived long, happy lives. The end."

Blake glanced up from her phone to see Ruby’s reaction, only to be met with soft snores and a sleeping form, complete with a trail of drool connecting Ruby’s mouth to her red pillowcase.

Blake covered her mouth as she tried to stifle a laugh. She couldn’t have imagined a more “Ruby” way of falling asleep no matter how hard she tried. She figured however, this was her queue to move out to the sofa out in the living room.

As Blake gathered her things, her eyes once again fell on Ruby’s sleeping form. A strange, fuzzy feeling welled up inside her as she continued to gaze at the adorable (albeit snotty) girl in front of her.

Before she gave herself the chance to think twice about it, Blake made her way over to Ruby’s side, brushing aside her mess of red hair in order to place a gentle kiss against her temple.

“Sweet dreams, Ruby."

A/N: Sorry this is so late askldfnkjsabf I really wanted to get this out before the day ended uwu

[petersheart]

The Order fanfic: Violence on our Shore

Hamish gets hurt again, only this time it's much more serious. (in other words: lots of Hamish-centric hurt/comfort)

Also available on my AO3

Once Randall answers the call, it’s almost like deja-vu. It feels like he’s had this exact conversation before.

"Hey, dude-"

“They’re hunting me,” Hamish rasps. His breath is heavy and his voice is filled with obvious pain. “They got me, again, just straight up stabbed me with that stupid knife. I hope you have some left over of that green stuff you made last time.”

For a gravely injured wolf, Hamish for sure manages to talk a lot.

They don’t have anything left of the so-called green stuff Hamish is talking about. The last few months haven’t been easy exactly, The Order has been more aggressive than ever. All kinds of evil have been crawling around.

He moves to the living room, where he knows both Lilith and Jack both are supposed to studying for their exams.

“Think we used the last of it when Jack got nicked the other night. We can always make some more, though” he answers when the silence lasts too long. He can’t listen to Hamish’s breaths coming in sharp pained bursts anymore.

“Where are you? I’ll come and get you, the others can make the magic goo,” he asks. It grabs Lilith and Jack’s attention, and they both look up from where they are hunched over their books. Worry makes their way to both of their faces. It would be adorable if he didn’t have the sound of Hamish dying filling his ear.

“At the library, in a broom closet, like last time” Hamish gasps. Randall doesn’t remember anything about a broom closet last time, but that’s not what’s important right now anyway. “Don’t think I can make it out alone. Don’t know if they used more stuff or if it hit something more vital-” Hamish continues. Randall wonders if there is a more vital place than the freaking stomach but okay. “It might be a different poison. It's working way faster,” the older wolf sounds out of breath once he finishes talking.

“Ok, I’ll be there, we’ll get whoever did this,” Randall assures him. He listens as Hamish takes some unsteady breaths before answering.

“T-thanks,” he stutters out. The fact that he isn’t fighting about Randall coming to get him his worrying enough, and now a thank you? Jesus, that’s bad with a capital B, and probably an A and D too.

When he puts the phone back into his pocket, Lilith and Jack are already standing, books forgotten on the floor.

“Hamish’ hurt, we used up all the green medical stuff - you guys need to make some more. I gotta go, he’s hiding at the library. It sounded like it was bad," Randall explains. He then grabs his jacket from where he had thrown it over a chair earlier today.

“I’ll come with you,” both of the younger wolves say at the same time. When Randall turns to look at them, they are staring each other down. They know at least one of them needs to stay behind and make it.

“I told Hamish the both of you would be working on the soup thingy,” he tells them. Lilith scowls at him.

“You only need one person to do it, we all know how to-” she starts,

“I don’t! I wasn’t here when you guys did it the first time,” Jack argues, interrupting her.

“You’re the magic expert! You can read a recipe can’t you?” Lilith says, and jeez - they do not have time for this.

“Did y’all miss it when I said Hamish sounded really bad? I think this might be worse than last time!” Ok, he doesn’t think it is, he knows it is, but he doesn’t want to worry the other two too much either. He is the one that has to deal with them after all. He’s already moving towards the door, he can hear shuffling behind him, are the two idiots actually fighting about this?

Someone runs up to his side as he throws the door open. Lilith is standing there, looking him in the eye. “Jack is making the recipe,” she states. Randall can’t be bothered to ask how they decided that.

-

The run to the library seems longer than ever before, even if it only takes them ten minutes when running.

“He’s going to be okay right? We aren’t going to find him like.. dead, or something?” Lilith asks as they climb the old marble stairs to the library entry. Randall does not wanna think about how shivery her voice sounds.

“No, Hamish’ strong, he’ll be fine,” he assures her as they walk through the wooden double doors.

“So where is he?” she asks and looks around. They’ll have to be on their guard. There might be more hunters out there, he had forgotten to ask Hamish what had actually happened. He had assumed it was the Order since Hamish had said someone was haunting him again.

“Hum, I think he said he was in a broom closet,” Randall answers and fumbles to find his phone, “I’ll try calling him.” Lilith nods, and they start making their way through the library hall. There aren’t too many people there, thank god, but it’s not so surprising considering it's getting late.

He unlocks his phone and finds Hamish number in his newly called list. He quickly hits the dial button and puts the phone to his ear. It rings and rings but no one picks up. “Come on man,” he whispers, more to himself than anyone. Lilith is biting her lip, shooting him glances as they walk down the hall.

“I hear something,” she says and he follows her to a small passageway in the library. He’s not too familiar with it, it’s a rarely used wing - the stools aren’t as good there and neither is the ventilation. The ringtone is still beeping in his ear and he knows he’s gonna be put sat over to voicemail soon and - is that 500 miles playing?

The song that Randall, as a joke, forever ago, put as his special ringtone on Hamish’ phone. The older man had been stupid enough to leave it unlocked the living room, where Randall so happened to be sitting.

It’s coming from a door not too far down the hallway and Randall is grateful there is no one else there besides the two of them.

He gets sent to voicemail, and he hangs up before the beep. Lilith has her hand on the doorknob and she looks scared. Her eyes are wide, and her face filled with uncertainty. Maybe, like him, she fears what they might find. He nods to her and puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. They are still working out what they are, how they work. It’s been.. kind of wild lately.

The door swings open. Hamish is sitting there, his dapper vest open and smeared with blood, and so is his light blue shirt. His jacket is on the floor on his right and his phone is laid beside it. The screen is still lit up and Randall can see bloody fingerprints on it. Oh.

“Hey guys,” Hamish gurgles as he looks up at them, a loopy smile on his face, “you came,” he continues. He sounds relieved.

“Of course we came, hamster,” Randall says as he kneels down beside him to get a look on the wound. It looks worse than the other one had. It's deeper, redder, and slightly higher up. It stinks even more too. He wrinkles his nose.

“Sorry I could’n ans’r the phone, sl’ppy fingers,” Hamish mumbles. The words don't sound quite right coming out of the usually delicate spoken man.

“We need to get him out of here now, and to Jack, that looks - that looks really bad,” Lilith says. Randall is already shrugging off his own jacket. They’ll need to cover up the blood. It’s not like they can walk unnoticed through the library while supporting a bleeding Hamish.

“Help me put this on him,” he pushes Lilith with his elbow to get her attention. Her eyes are locked, staring at the bleeding wound in Hamish’ stomach. One of his hands is laid sloppy and limp over it. It seems to be a try to stop the bleeding, but it looks like the pressure is too weak to do any good.

Together they manage to sit Hamish up, even if both of them have to support him so he doesn't lean over to the side. He has the energy to help them when they drag the jacket over his shoulders. The pained noises he makes feel like needles to Randall’s skin, he doubts it’s any easier for Lilith. Hamish is acting too lethargic for Randall’s liking as he zips the zipper up to cover the wound completely.

“Ok, we each take one side, we get him up on his feet and we take the back door out. We’re on the first floor, it will be okay,” Randall looks at Lilith as he informs her about the plan. He's not sure if he is trying to assure himself or the other two that it will be alright.

Lilith grabs Hamish’ phone and puts in her pocket. She also takes his stupid dress jacket and drapes it over her arm. She catches Randall's eyes as they swing Hamish' arms over their shoulders.

“On the count of three,” Lilith says. Randall nods and Hamish, well, he hangs in there. They can’t ask much more of him.

“One, two,” they all take a preparing breath, “three-”. Hamish isn’t the lightest dude, but they are all superpowered wolves. Lifting Hamish up from the floor goes easy. Getting him to stand on his own two feet? Not that easy. Hamish is taller than both of them and sways dangerously as he tries to stand on his own to feet.

“I’m-” Hamish stutters as he leans forward in their grasp, not finishing his sentence. The only reason he’s staying upright is Lilith’ and Randall’s death grip on his arms. Hamish opens his mouth to speak and-

“I’m gonna be sick,” is all the warning they get before Hamish his throwing up all over Randall’s shoes.

“Ew dude,” Randall says, “as if the room didn’t stink enough already.” He stares up on at the roof, he'd rather not see what Hamish' lunch looks when halfway digested.

Hamish goes if possible even more slack in their grip.

“Randall, look - it, there’s... That's blood,” Lilith whisper-yells. Randall forces himself to look down at his poor shoes and the floor, and oh - yeah, that's very red. That's blood. That's also very very bad. People, even werewolves, are not supposed to be throwing up blood. They aren’t supposed to be stabbed by magical weapons either but, you know, that’s kind of a risk they take.

“We need to get out of here, now,” Randall says, and can't keep the alarm out of his voice. He hoists Hamish a little bit more up so he won’t slip out of his grasp.

“Ready to go, big guy?” Lilith asks, shaking Hamish a little to get his attention. They get a small nod from him, and a grimace they don’t know how to interpret. That's gotta be good enough for now.

They are more dragging Hamish between them than helping him walk. He tries to take steps but they are weak and he stumbles more than he supports himself.

“Last time he managed to walk all the way home by himself, what the hell did they put on that blade this time?” Lilith asks. Randall sees that even with their enhanced strength it’s straining for Lilith to carry Hamish between them like this. He's not surprised, he can feel the sweat trickling down his own back.

"I have no idea, the faster we get him to home and to Jack the better," is all he can say. There's a voice in the back of his head that wants to add that Hamish might not even make it that far. The older is looking worse by the second, as they make their way towards the back door. It's going too slow.

They are lucky and meet only one very confused student on their way. “Had a bit much to drink last night,” Randall jokes as the guy stares at them. He sees how the strangers eyes turn to show both amusement and pity as they drag Hamish past him.

They decide on taking the shortcut from behind the library through the woods. Halfway home Hamish goes completely slack in their arms, and they almost tumble to the ground as he does.

“Oh my-, shit shit shit,” Lilith says as they lower him to the forest floor. Randall cradles Hamish' head with his hand as they do, careful not to hurt him any more than he already is. His hands are shaking as he goes to find the pulse point on Hamish’ neck. The oldest of them are too pale, and the blood has seeped through Randall’s jacket in a grotesque way. That’s gonna be a bitch to clean.

Relief fills him as he feels the faint beating of Hamish’ pulse under his two fingers. One look at Hamish' chest and he can see the rise and fall off his chest.

“I’ll carry him on my back, that’s easier now he’s out than us dragging him between us. We aren’t too far from home,” Randall says and Lilith doesn’t try to protest. Perhaps it’s progress, or it’s only because both of them being too afraid to argue right now.

“You need to help me get him up,” he says, and Lilith nods as an answer. She reaches out and grabs Hamish' arm. Together they manage to get him onto Randall’s back. Why does Hamish have to be so tall? It’s clumsy and slow, and Randall is almost glad Hamish is out cold because if not he would be hurting a lot. Randall can already feel how Hamish' blood is staining his t-shirt. It's combing with his sweat and making the shirt stick uncomfortably to his back.

Hamish labored breaths are almost comforting on his neck, it's nice to know he's alive. Lilith walks two steps behind them to make sure their alpha doesn’t slip off Randall’s back. They must look like an odd trio.

Somehow they make it to the house without any slip-ups. They stumble up the stairs to the front door and then through it. Jack must have heard them coming because he comes running, meeting them in the hallway.

“Hey did you - holy crap, is he-” Jack's mouth hangs open as he freezes at the sight of them. “He’s alive,” Lilith says through gritted teeth. Jack nods, and his brows furrow in worry. It almost looks like he wants to reach out to them, his fingers twitch, but then he doesn't.

“Get him to the couch,” the youngest says instead. Randall carries Hamish into the living room. Together they wrangle Hamish down from Randall's back, and to a somewhat sitting upright position on the couch. The oldest' head is leaned over the backrest. Hamish' face is scrunched up; he’s in pain even when unconscious.

“The remedy is almost done, it needs like six more minutes of cooking,” Jack says as he turns to stir in the pot on the table. It looks like the one they made those few months ago, a small relief. Then again, last time Hamish had been awake and looked so much better than he does now.

“He’s really hot,” Lilith notes as she puts a hand on Hamish’ forehead.

“Hey, if I’m not the wolf you want here-,” Randall tries to joke, but Lilith gives him a stare so harsh he stops mid-sentence. Ok, bad timing.

Without another word, Lilith gets up and walks through the door to the kitchen. Randall has to tighten his grip on Hamish so he won’t fall to the side now that Lilith isn’t there to support him. She emerges not much later with a wet towel in her hand. She puts it over Hamish’ forehead as she sits back down at the same place on the couch. There’s blood on Hamish's lips, and Lilith wipes it away with the sleeve of her sweater. It doesn't seem like she cares that it dirties her clothing.

Randall bites his lip. It worries him that Hamish hasn’t been conscious since they were walking through the forest.

“How long has he been out?” Jack asks as if he’s read Randall's thoughts.

“Too long, since we were halfway through the forest. We were walking, dragging him along really, - he just went limp,” Randall explains. Jack nods, clear blue eyes staring at Hamish’ limp form.

“Isn’t it done yet?” Lilith asks, frustration clear in her voice. She's holding Hamish' limp hand in her own, so hard her own knuckles are white.

“Two more minutes, it needs to be finished for it to work,” Jack says like they haven't made it themselves not too long ago. His voice is calm, but Randall can still pick up the emotion in it.

A minute ticks by, too slow.

Hamish groans. His eyes blink open, but he leaves them halfway there.

“Hurts,” he whispers, before biting his lip. Randall doesn’t think Hamish is really there with them or that he’s even aware of why he’s hurting. Randall puts a hand on his shoulder and tries to give the older a comforting squeeze.

“We’re gonna fix you right up, just breath,” Lilith says, still holding on to Hamish' hand. It’s another deja-vu for Randall, the only difference is that Jack is there with them now.

“It’s done! ” Jack finally exclaims, already grabbing a leaf and spreading the green goo over it. Randall zips down the jacket, his jacket, now filled with Hamish’s blood, and pushes away the bloodied vest. He has to lift up the patterned shirt too, this time Hamish doesn’t have the power to hold it up himself. It's probably the clothing item Hamish is wearing that looks the worst. It's got a mangled hole from the knife and the bright material is filled with blood.

The wound.. it looks really bad. It’s an irritated red, and the green infection in the middle of it looks even more disgusting than before. There are black veins reaching out, under Hamish' feverish skin, from the wound. They weren’t there when they had been sat like this last time. Randall doesn't like the way they seem to be reaching for Hamish' heart.

Jack’s breath hitches at the sight and most likely the smell, but he still continues putting the goo over the wound. They all breath a sigh of relief when it looks to be working. The green folding in on itself, the red not as irritated.

But then it stops. The veins, they are so close to Hamish' heart.

“What, why isn’t it-” Jack begins, and Randall wishes his eyes were betraying him because he is looking, staring, at Hamish’ chest and... It's not- it isn’t moving. Hamish' eyes are unfocused and half open when Randall looks at his face.

“He’s not breathing,” he says. It comes out airy, it doesn't sound real in his own ears. Both Lilith’s and Jack’s eyes, before so focused on the wound, go to Randall.

“We need to get him on the floor! He’s not breathing!” Randal is yelling now. The reality of the situation, what is happening, hitting him. Jack moves the quickest of them. He manages to push the table far enough away to make room. None of them cares when a bottle of whatever falls off said table and breaks on the floor. Lilith seems almost frozen in her spot as Jack scoops Hamish’ still body into his arms and lays him on the carpet.

“Get Alyssa over here,” Randall says, commands, at Jack. He knows that Alyssa and Jack are in a rough spot but this is Hamish. Alyssa will know how to heal him.

“He’s still got a pulse, maybe we need more goo-” Jack says as Randal sits down on his knees by Hamish side. He rests his hands on the floor. He knows this, he’s pre-med. He's taken first aid classes too.

“Get Alyssa the fuck over!” Lilith yells, finally unfrozen from her spot. She has moved from the couch and is shoveling goo onto the green paper to put on Hamish’ wound.

Jack looks at them for a second, then at Hamish and nods. He whips his phone out without any more arguments. Randall can see that Jack's hands are shaking as he tries to find Alyssa's number.

Randall lets his focus slip back to Hamish. He double-checks that what he thinks is happening in fact is. That Hamish for real isn’t breathing. Puts a hand over his nose and mouth and - there’s nothing. No warm air hitting his palm. Shit. Lilith is still spreading the goo over Hamish' bare stomach.

Randall tries to remember how they did it on the practice doll. Pinch the nose, lift the chin, clear airways. He breaths for Hamish and watches as his bloody chest goes up and down and falls still again.

In the back he can hear Jack talking, it has to be with Alyssa. He then disappears out of the room to do god knows what. Lilith is mumbling something, which may be profanities, through angry tears. Randall can only focus on his task. Hamish isn’t breathing, he’s fading, this can’t happen now. Not like this. They had saved him! Gotten him home!

He breaths again, he doesn’t quite remember how long he has wait between each. He isn’t sure if he is supposed to be doing chest compressions either, when just now Hamish had a pulse.

Then Jack is by his side again, there’s stuff, supplies, in his arms. Herbs and little vials and a bowl.

“Alyssa is on her way, I think we have to try and give him this,” Jack says and Randall looks at him. He’s holding a vial with a clear liquid in it, and he’s putting it in a mortar and squishing something else in with it. Randall doesn't care, as long as it works.

“How’s he supposed to swallow, he isn’t even, he’s not-” his words don’t want to work, as he tries to explain his doubts to Jack.

“T-there's no pulse,” Lilith has Hamish’ wrist in her hand, and her wide eyes are staring at them both. Crap. Randall moves, his heart beating faster than ever, and starts doing compressions. He thinks of that stupid song, staying alive, as he pushes on. Counts the amount he is supposed to and watches as Lilith tries to scoop goo onto the wound like that's going to help. Somehow the black veins seem to have worked their way even closer to Hamish’ heart.

“Why isn’t it working?!” Lilith yells, in desperation and frustration.

“They must have used something stronger than last time,” he can hear Jack say in the background as he moves to breathe for Hamish once again.

“Someone lift his head up, we have to make sure he swallows it,” Jack says. He’s holding the mortar in one hand, there is a liquid with a touch of green in it from whatever herb Jack has used in it. Randall nods, and he carefully holds Hamish’ head as Jack pours the liquid into his mouth. Some of it misses the mouth, and runs down Hamish' chin and mixes with the blood already there.

“Are you sure we aren’t choking him?” Randall asks, because - pre-med. He doesn't want to be responsible for making things worse. He's scared of Hamish coming alive again only to choke on some weird herbal mix.

Jack doesn’t answer. It doesn't help with Randall's anxiety.

They wait. Half a minute. Oh god. They’re gonna lose him- how are they supposed to work, how-

Hamish gasps. His eyes fly open. The wound is still there, angry and stinky, but the black lines have stopped moving.

His face is filled with agony, an expression Randall has never seen on his face before. He’s coughing and blood is spraying out of his mouth, it isn’t pretty. Not at all. Randall is supporting Hamish, holding him up, as his back curls with the force of the coughs.

Lilith grabs Hamish hand, “you’re going to be okay, breath, it’s going to be fine,” she says, like a mantra. Randall catches Jack’s eyes over Hamish back. Their alpha isn’t out of the woods yet.

They move Hamish from the floor and onto the couch again, he and Jack take one arm each and lays him down. Hamish's shivering, even if the room is warm and the weather isn’t cold. Lilith manages to find a blanket and puts it over him. Randall sits on his knees on the floor, monitoring Hamish’ breathing. He’s terrified, he realizes, of losing Hamish. Terrified of the possibility of his breathing stopping again.

Alyssa enters like a whirlwind into the living room. There is a spellbook in her hand, and her hair looks wild. Like she ran here. Randall wonders what Jack had told her to make her appear so soon.

“Is he..” she starts. “He’s breathing, for now, we managed to stop the poison for now, but it’s still hurting him,” Jack explains as he leads her over. It’s awkward, because how is it not, as Lilith moves to give Alyssa room. Randall refuses to move from his position though, he has to be there.

“C-can you make it stop?” Hamish asks form the couch, none of them had realized how lucid he was. “It - It hurts so bad, please make it stop,” he sounds close to crying and so so young. It’s easy to forget that Hamish is only a couple of years older than them. Now it is all too clear. He's hurt and feverish and completely out of it. There is no way he knows what actually is going on.

“You’re going to be alright,” Jack says, putting a comforting hand on Hamish's shoulder. There are tears trailing down Hamish's chin. Fuck. Randall tries to catch Hamish' eyes, to somehow ground him, but they are too hazy and flailing around in panic.

“Alyssa, can you just please do your stuff?” he asks because he can’t sit here and look at Hamish in so much pain for much longer. He can’t keep the quiver out of his voice. Hamish is supposed to be the strong one, the one who knows what to do. He isn’t supposed to lay like this, every move hurting him, and poison slowing killing him.

“Okay okay, you guys are lucky we learned about medical healing because a recruit set himself on fire a few days ago,” Alyssa says as she opens her book. She skims through the pages, Randall can see that she’s stressed even if she tries to hide it. Her fingers are tight around the book cover, and her mouth is in a straight line. She is doing them a huge favor right now, he knows that, but she needs to hurry up!

She finally finds what she wants, and moves to stand by Randall’s side. She puts a hand on Hamish’ forehead, no doubt feeling the warmth and the sweat. She frowns.

“This might hurt a lot, I - I'm sorry,” she says, he doesn't know if it's to Hamish or to the rest of them. She looks at them all again as if seeking for reassurance, or perhaps permission. They all nod.

Randall grabs Hamish' hands, Jack and Lilith both put a comforting hand on both of Hamish’ legs.

Alyssa starts chanting. Randall has no idea what the hell she’s saying, and at first, there is nothing. Then there is a really really horrible ringing in their ears and Hamish... Hamish is screaming. Jack and Lilith’s hands are no longer only for comfort, they are holding Hamish’ feet calm as he trashes in their grip. It's like he's desperate to escape. He acts like he's on fire, and Randall has to stand up to help hold him down so Alyssa can finish the god damn spell.

Hamish screaming sounds like.. like he’s dying. His throat already sounds raw, and tears are still running down his face. Randall wants to tell Alyssa to stop. To please stop, and ask if she can’t she see she’s hurting him even more?

But, one look at Hamish’ wound, and he doesn't. It’s not as red anymore, the green not so extreme. It’s helping. The ringing is making his head hurt, and he can’t begin to imagine how it must be for Hamish. It seems like forever, but he knows it’s only minutes before Alyssa finishes.

Hamishes slumps down, eyes closed, breathing heavily - but still alive.

“The black veins are still there,” Randall says when he looks at Hamish’ pale stomach. It’s still full of blood, but the wound is all but gone. The black veins have retracted some, not as close to Hamish’ heart anymore, but he can still see them. Why aren't they gone?

“They’ll go away, give it some time. I can only do so much, he needs to rest, let his body heal and work its own magic. If they aren’t gone in three days time... Well, to be blunt, then I don’t know,” Alyssa says. Randall can see how her hands are shaking. There’s a drop of blood under her nose.

Jack puts a hand on her shoulder, drawing her a little closer, and she lets him.

“He’ll feel pretty poorly until the wound and the black veins are gone. Most likely run a fever too, but I’m sure you guys can take care of him for that,” she continues. They all nod. Randall can feel how tired he is now when the adrenaline is starting to crash. The others look much the same as he is feeling.

“What did you do? You didn’t have time to explain the spell,” Jack asks, ever the one to want to learn. Lilith has settled on the couch, Hamish’ feet on her lap, and her arms are laid over them.

“I, uhm, pretty much burned the poison out of him. It was the only thing I could figure out might work, especially on a werewolf. Most of our healing spells are made for humans,” she explains. She grabs her spell book where she threw it at the table earlier and puts it under her arm.

“You didn’t know it would work?” Randall asks, and he can’t keep the anger out of his voice. That had been a huge risk. They could have made things worse, it could have killed Hamish!

“If I hadn’t taken the risk, he would be pretty dead now,” Alyssa bites back. Her eyes aren't gentle and kind anymore, but narrow and glaring at him. “Had I not been able to get her as soon as I did, it would have been too late,” she continues, fire in her voice.

Randall nods, and he doesn’t answer her either because Hamish groans on the couch. He realizes he doesn't care, and lets the anger go. All he cares about is Hamish being okay.

“I should go,” Alyssa says.

“Alyssa no, you can stay-” Jack tries, but Alyssa knows, “I don’t.. It wouldn’t be right, and I have other things to do,” she excuses.

“I, I can go with you. I mean, you didn’t have to do this, we owe you, I’ll follow you home,” Jack says but even Randall can see that he doesn’t want to leave. Can see how his eyes are flickering back to Hamish, before going back to Alyssa. Lilith looks like she will skin Jack alive if he actually dares to go.

Alyssa shakes her head, “No, Jack, you should stay with your.. pack,” the word sounds weird coming from her.

Jack doesn’t protest this time, and that says enough. They’re his family now. They are all he’s got, and they almost lost a very vital member of their pack today.

They watch her leave, up until she closes the door gently behind her.

“All this drama for me?” Hamish whispers from the couch. His voice is almost gone from all the screaming he did while Alyssa was doing her spell.

“You goddamn idiot,” Lilith says, but there’s no venom in her voice, only tears in her eyes which she dries away before they have the chance to escape.

“You owe me a jacket, dude, you got all your icky blood on it,” Randall says because humor is something he knows and emotions are not. Hamish smiles a little, and Randall’s heart hurts when he sees there’s still blood on his teeth.

“Do you remember what happened?” Jack asks, and Hamish’ eyes move to meet their newest member’s ones.

“Hmm, getting stabbed by some stupid creature, hiding in a broom closet, uhm..” Hamish bites his lips while thinking, “calling Randall?” it’s more a question than a statement, and Randall nods as confirmation.

“It gets more blurry after that. You guys arriving, trying to walk, the forest?” Randall once again nods to confirm that Hamish is correct.

“Then I just remember.. pain, burning,” he says, and he winces as if recalling everything he’s felt today. “Not knowing where I was or what was happening, only that I wanted it to stop,” he voice trails off, becoming small. Randall doesn’t want to think about all the things “wanting it to stop” can mean.

“Well, you scared us a lot man. If you wanted some attention you didn't have to go to such extremes,” Jack jokes. “We almost lost you, Randall had to.. bring you back,” the youngest' voice turns more serious. Hamish locks eyes with Randall, they look wide and scared. It's unfamiliar to see it in Hamish' eyes. It almost reminds him of something, of anger and hurt, but he can't remember when that was.

“I.. I died?” Hamish whispers.

“You stopped breathing, your heart stopped. Pretty sure that means you were a little dead,” Randall says, voice shaking even as he tries to come off careless.

“Oh,” is all Hamish says. He looks pale and shaky himself. “I’m sorry,” he croaks.

“Don’t be, it wasn’t your fault,” Lilith says, sending their oldest a smile.

The living room grows quiet, no one knows what to say but none of them wants to leave either. They are all basking in the utter relief of Hamish being awake, being okay. Speaking of Hamish, he's blinking, his eyelids taking longer and longer each time to open up. It looks like he is trying to force himself to be awake.

“You should get some sleep, you need to rest so your body can heal,” Randall says, trying to force a smile on his face. He pats Hamish' head because he doesn't know what to do with his hands and he has a yearning to be close.

“I’ll call and say you won’t be able to hold your classes in the morning,” Lilith says. Hamish almost looks like he wants to protest, eyes forced open and looking bloodshot. Lilith silences him before he even says anything with a stern look.

“You’re on bedrest until any sign of that” she points at his stomach, “is gone.” It's clear that it is not up for discussion.

Hamish nods, for once letting himself be coddled, maybe even he understands that's something he needs right now.

“I’m stinky,” he whines though, with his eyes closed. Randall hears Jack snort.

“I think showering can wait for a little while, but we can try and clean some up some of that blood,” Lilith says, already getting up from the couch. Once again she goes into the kitchen and comes back with wet wash clothes. She puts one back on Hamish' forehead, after confirming that he still feels hot and is running a fever. The one from earlier had fallen to the floor under it all.

Jack sits down on the spot Lilith had vacated and lets Hamish put his feet in his lap.

“Randall, maybe we can at least find him some clean clothes,” Lilith says. She's rubbing the washcloth with gentle movements over Hamish' stomach. Randall knows that with “we” she means “you”. If he is being honest he's happy to have a reason to leave the room. He feels like he is about to burst over with emotion, all the fear and anger he’s felt today simmering under his skin.

He squeezes Hamish’ hand, no one comments anything on it and leaves to find some clothes in Hamish’ room. He climbs the stairs with a tiredness that feels like it comes from his very bones. He can barely bother to lift his feet as he shuffles over to Hamish' room.

It’s not that often he finds himself in the older werewolf’s room. It is, much like Hamish himself, kept in a pristine condition. There’s nothing thrown and left behind on the floor. A single book is laid on his nightstand. Hamish' bed is even made, his blue bedcover without a wrinkle. It makes Randall laugh. The laugh somehow turns into a very ugly sob, and then another, and another.

He lets himself crumble onto the bed. He grabs Hamish’ pillow and buries his face in it. It actually smells like the stupid cherry blossom shampoo Hamish insists on using. He had thrown quite the fit over it when Lilith had used the last of it one time. Randall doesn't care if he's getting snot and tears on the pillow, and that he is ruining Hamish' perfect bed.

The door creaks and Randall thinks it’s Lilith who’s come to check on him. The bed dips with someone's weight, someone has sat down with him. When Randall finally moves his face from the pillow he sees that it’s Jack. The younger is sitting with his back towards Randall, staring at the bedroom wall. He's letting Randall have his privacy, let him pretend he hasn't been crying, while also not leaving him alone. He knew it right to bring Jack into the knights.

“Thank you, for calling Alyssa,” Randall forces out, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Of course, I..” Jack turns to face Randall. He looks like he is having trouble trying finding the right words, and Randall lets him take his time. Randall isn’t sure he would be able to say anything right now anyway without bursting into tears.

“I would do anything for you guys,” Jack finally settles on. Gosh, as if Randall didn’t want to cry from before.

“We.. we worked well, today, we saved him,” Jack continues, “for a second... I. thought..” his voice trails off and now it sounds like Jack is about to cry too. Randall doesn't have to guess what Jack was about to say. Randall had been having the same thoughts as Hamish had stopped breathing in front of them. He's not in any state to deal with any of those emotions, not his own and certainly not Jack's.

Thankfully, Jack has better control off his emotions than Randall. He stands up and brushes his pants off like it’s his emotions he is letting fall to the floor instead of dust. Randall sits up too, propping himself up on his elbows.

“I guess we should find him some clothes,” Jack says, “do you think he has anything besides shirts and vests?” Jack moves towards the closet, as Randall pushes himself off the bed. He dries a tear from the corner of his eye and puts his best brave face on as he walks over to Jack.

He throws the door of the closet open and is met with ten different variations of vests and shirts. All too dapper and fancy for a sick-day in bed. He shuts the doors again and leans his shoulder on it.

"Does Hamish always keep his room so clean?" Jack asks as he moves over to the dresser. Randall watches him open the first draw, only to be met by woolen sweaters.

"Think so, something about it representing his mind and body. I don't know, philosophy stuff," Randall tries to keep his voice natural as he answers.

Jack laughs a little as he opens the other drawers. They have no luck until the very bottom one. Randall is actually surprised when he spots a pair of joggers and a red hoodie neatly folded into it. He thinks he can even see a pair of cozy and fuzzy socks. There’s a small smile on Jack’s face as he grabs the clothes, and it’s nice to see after the day they've had.

“Think these will work?” Jack asks, holding the clothes in his hands and turning towards Randall. Then he furrows his brows.

“What?” Randall asks.

“Do you... Do you think that we have to.. get him underwear?” Jack asks, and Randall can't help but let a laugh escape his lips at Jack's concerned face.

“No way man,” he responds, before taking the clothes out of Jack’s hands, “I think we’ll leave that for later.”

They don’t speak as they make their way downstairs again, but it’s not awkward - it’s comfortable. That kind of silence you can only have with someone who you really know. When you can just be. They don’t mention the little moment they had either when Jack first arrived upstairs.

When they walk into the living room, Lilith seems to be finishing up trying to get as much blood as possible off of Hamish. The washcloths all look drenched in blood and are stained a horrifying red color. Hamish himself is already looking better, still sickly but not as deathly pale as before. His eyes are closed, Randall isn’t able to see if he’s awake or not.

“We actually found some comfy clothes, who knew he owned hoodies?” Randall exclaims as they make their way over. Lilith smiles a little at his joke, which he counts as a win, and gently shakes Hamish’ shoulder. He was asleep then. Randall almost feels bad about waking him up. Then again, Hamish will probably feel even better once he’s out of his bloodstained and sweaty clothes.

“Hey bro, we're gonna get you out of these bloody clothes, okay?” Jack says, his voice soft, as he puts a hand on Hamish' shoulder. It's not a voice Randall hears Jack use a lot. The younger wolf likes his tough guy attitude, sometimes a little too much.

Hamish' eyes blink open, they are still looking feverish and hazy, and Jack helps him sit up.

They practically have to do everything for Hamish. It seems the day has left him exhausted, not that he can be blamed - the guy almost died. Still, he had seemed so much better before they went up. But then again, the adrenaline has to crash at some point.

Jack takes the bloody shirt off of him, leaving Hamish naked on top. Randall spots a small bandage that Lilith must have plastered over the wound. There’s still blood that she hasn’t managed to scrub off his skin surrounding it.

Randall tugs the hoodie over Hamish' head, messing his hair up even more, and Jack helps him get the arms in the right place.

None of them really wants to deal with his jeans, but - they have to. They too, are stained in red and aren’t exactly clothes practical for sleeping and healing.

It’s Jack who moves first, who undoes the button. Hamish isn’t saying anything, not protesting as they manhandle him around. His eyes are slightly open though, so they know he's awake. They tug the pants off the ankles, and Randall pulls the joggers up to Hamish’ thighs. Thankfully Hamish then manages to take them up the last bit himself. Lilith busies herself with taking off Hamish shoes and socks. She replaces them with the fuzzy socks they had grabbed upstairs.

It seems the small tasks of getting dressed has left Hamish even more exhausted. What little energy he had left is gone now. He seems to be asleep before his face even hits the throw pillow on the couch. Lilith drapes a blanket over him, as he is still shivering a little. She brushes his bangs out of his face. The strands of hair have dried with blood and sweat in them, and are slightly curlier than usual.

“What a day, huh?” Lilith says as she sits on the armrest of the couch Hamish is laying on. It seems like she doesn't want to leave Hamish' side. Randall understands the feeling. He is tempted to sit down in front of the couch again and make sure Hamish is alright and breathing. He doesn’t know how to fix the feelings tormenting his insides.

“I guess there won’t be any cocktails tonight,” Jack notes. That Randall knows how to fix.

“No don’t say that; Hamish might have learned me a trick or two, or at least tried too,” he says, while forcing a smile onto his face. Both Jack and Lilith smiles back at him, looking slightly relieved that he is taking charge. His hands still shake when he moves over to the bar, to start on their drinks, but he ignores it.

It's going to be alright, he knows it is. It has to be.

-

please come yell at me about this show and feel free to request things  

[benhardyisdaddy]

Howl - Part 4

MASTERLIST 

(hope this doesnt seem boring to u guys, but its about to get good so like im excited??? also this pic reminds me of a moody cute boyfriend vibe so i used it lol anyways ily all and i hope u like it BYEEE)

Word Count: 2,053

Bright lights. Loud voices. A man yelling. You slowly blink a few times and adjust your eyes to your surroundings. You look around and focus your eyes on the tiny white room around you. You’re hooked up to an IV as you lie on a hospital bed. Well that was a clear sign of where you are at the moment. You attempt to sit up and a slight pain from your leg shoots up. You hiss and lean back instantly. A nurse rushes into your room and hurries to you. She smiles and messes with something on your IV.

“Miss y/l/n, do you know where you are?” she asks slowly. You instantly nod to her.

“I’m in the hospital.” you whisper, having to clear your throat. The nurse smiles and nods.

“Perfect! And do you know what happened to you?” she asks again, grabbing a clipboard near the end of your bed on a tiny table. The memories of what had happened floods your mind. Something had slammed into the back of your car. You were in shock as you got out. You remember looking down at your leg and seeing a huge piece of glass sticking out. Then you remember seeing black.

“Yes, the accident. The glass in my leg.” you say, moving your leg just a bit. You feel pain again, but not as bad.The nurse writes something down as she walks closer to you.

“Yes, you were in an accident. And as for the glass, it missed your major artery by just an inch. You’re very lucky to be alive. You just needed a few stitches and it’s all wrapped up now. The hospital will provide you with the crutches.” she says. You look up and frown.

“I’ll need crutches?” you ask, bummed. She sweetly smiles and nods.

“Unless if you want to be in pain every time you take a step.” Your frown drops and you smile back as you shake your head no. She smiles and nods. “The doctor will be in here very shortly to talk to you. All your tests came back fine, so you shouldn’t be here any much longer.” she says. As she goes to reach for the handle, there’s a loud knock at the door. She turns to open it up half expecting the doctor, but it’s not. It’s Ben. He looks up and his eyes are instantly on you. He looks nervous and his face is flushed. You sit up straight and are utterly confused.

“Ben?” you ask as he quickly walks in. The nurse watches him for a second, then shuts the door behind her. He walks up and half smiles, looking you up and down.

“Are you alright?” he asks fast. You raise a brow and lift the covers off of your legs, revealing the large gauze wrapped around your thigh. A tiny bit of blood is stained over where you assume your stitches are. He tenses his jaw and looks up to you.

“Why are you even here?” you ask, still not understanding. “I’d expect Joe or Gwil to be here, not… You. And what happened to your arm?” you ask. He had his arm hung in a sling. He looks down quickly and shrugs.

“Touch football. Rami got a little too handsy. Messed up my shoulder.” he says, staring down at his arm still. He looks back up and shakes his head. “But that doesn’t matter. Are you okay? What did the nurse say?”

“She said my tests came back fine. I had a piece of glass in my leg that apparently barely missed an artery. I’m lucky to be alive.” you say, smiling to yourself. Ben tenses his jaw and looks back down to your leg.

“That stupid fucking truck driver.” he whispers to himself. You look up and cock your head at him.

“What? How did you know it was a truck driver? And how did you know I was even here?” you ask. He looks up fast and his eyes slightly open wide. He clears his throat and shrugs once more.

“Oh, um, the nurse had told me what happened. The truck driver slammed into the back of your car. Right? Did they not tell you?” he asks. You shake your head no and attempt to sit up more.

“No. They hadn’t told me any of that yet and you still haven’t answered my question.” you say, squinting your eyes. He looks to you and sniffles.

“Joe got a call from here, but he couldn’t be here fast enough, so he, uh, you know, called me.” he says, shifting his feet.

“Is Joe going to be here?” you ask. Ben nods and pulls up a chair to place it next to your bed.

“He’s on his way.” he says as he sits down and stares at you. You look away and play with the hem on your hospital gown. Your head starts to suddenly swarm and a feeling of loopiness comes over you. You close your eyes and lean your head back. You felt almost high.

“I feel… Weird.” you say, half giggling to yourself. Ben watches and looks up to your IV bag. He laughs.

“Probably because they’re giving you a high fun dose of morphine. Probably for your leg pain.” You lean your head up and look at him.

“I’m on morphine?” you ask, now frowning. “I’ve never been on morphine in my life.” Ben watches you and smiles.

“First time for everything, right?” he asks, winking. You catch yourself giggling again and lay your head back once more. You allow the lightheadedness to over take you as you just listen to the sounds all around you. And one of those sounds being a man in another room yelling about something you couldn't quite make out. You tried listening, but failed. You felt Ben’s eyes staring at you, but you didn’t dare look up. It felt like forever when your eyes were closed. Finally there was another knock at your door and it was suddenly opening up, giving you no time to object. In walks Joe as he looks around nervously. He spots you and rushes over. He pats Ben on the shoulder as he gently leans down to hug you.

“Oh my god.” he whispers. “I got a call that you were in an accident and I just started panicking. I’m so happy you’re okay.” he says, cupping your face. He kisses you on the forehead and steps back just as your door slowly opens up once more.

“Knock knock.” says a man as as he walks in. He has on a white coat and you instantly know he must be your doctor. You smile and feel your head swarm.

“So, how are we feeling?” he asks. Ben looks to you and laughs.

“High.” he says, watching as you have trouble holding your head up. The doctor laughs as he walks over to your IV machine. He adjusts the buttons and walks away.

“There,” he says. “I think that’ll do. The pain still bothering you?” he asks slowly. You shake your head no. “Alright, good. So, I went over your tests again and everything is still clear. All we’re worried about at this point is the wound on your leg. You know, infection and such. It’s cleaned out and stitched, so just watch it in case if it starts turning an angry red or pussing. If you notice any of that, you need to come back here ASAP, okay?” he asks.

“Okay.” says Joe, answering for you. You look up to him and lazily smile. The doctor walks over to a tiny closet in the room and types in a code on the door. It opens up and he grabs out a pair of crutches. He leans them against your bed and grabs another clipboard beside you.

“I just need you to sign right here and you’re officially all set to leave.” You grab the pen and quickly scribble your name, ignoring the horrible attempt. The doctor hands you a pain prescription for your leg. “Check in with your primary doctor in about a week and a half, okay? They’ll be able to release you from the crutches. Just remember, if it starts looking bad, don’t hesitate to come it. Got it?” he asks, smiling. You smile back and nod your head. The doctor slips out of the room as Joe helps you stand up. Ben walks around and gathers your clothes. You sit on the edge of the bed as he hands them to you.

“I need to get dressed.” you slur. Joe quickly looks to Ben as he slightly nods his head, now knowing what to do.

“Here,” says Ben, holding up the bed sheet. “I’ll block while you hand her what she needs.” Joe nods as he quickly helps you untie your gown and walks away. You’re covered up as you slip it off and hurriedly put on your shirt. The hospital had provided you with baggy, hospital pants so they don’t rub on your wound. You lean down and slide the pants over your legs and hike them up. You look up and Ben’s eyes are glued to yours. Something about the way he stares at you gives you this deep dark feeling in your stomach. You swallow hard and quickly look to Joe. He looks from Ben to you and smiles.

“Okay, I’m done.” you say. Ben tosses the blanket to the side as Joe slips on your shoes. He reaches over and grabs your crutches for you. You hold onto them as you stand up, a dull pain in your leg. You wince a bit as you place them under your arms. You lean forward and take a step. Your legs go wobbly as you fall down, but not before Ben swoops in and catches you. His arm is sternly behind your back as you hold onto his neck. You look up to him as you gasp.

“You okay?” he asks quietly. You can’t speak so all you do is nod yes. He helps you back to your feet as Joe hands you back your crutches.

“How about we get you a wheelchair?” he asks, watching you all worried. He was definitely like your older protective brother. You shake your head no quickly and place them back under your arms.

“No, no I got this. I’m fine.” You attempt to walk once more and it comes more naturally this time. You walk towards and out the door. You slowly pass by a room as Ben stands close to you, fearing that you might fall again. You’re looking forward as an older man begins to shout at you.

“You!” he yells, standing up from his bed, pointing. He’s short and has a trucker hat on, his eyes are wide. You look over as Ben stands in front of you protectively. He stands up tall and gives the man a threatening eye.

“They think I hit you! I didn’t! Didn’t you see it? The giant thing that slammed into you!? It wasn’t me! I was on the other side! It pushed you out of my way! That creature! Didn’t you see it!?” he yells at you with pleading eyes. You stare at him wide eyed and don’t know what he’s talking about. You shake your head, not knowing what to say.

“You need to step away from her.” says Ben as he places his hand on the man’s chest, not allowing him to come any closer. The guy doesn’t seem to care, he’s too focused on you.

“It was a monster that hit you! They think I’m crazy! Look at my semi! There’s no mark! I didn’t hit you! It did! I saw it!” he continues shouting as a few police officers rush in. They order him to sit down, but he just needs to tell you what happened. He continues yelling as Joe places his hand on your lower back, motioning you to continue walking. You couldn’t look away from this man as he called out for you. There was something in his eyes that made you confused. He keeps yelling that he didn’t hit you and something deep inside of you tells you that he’s telling the truth. And you almost believe him.

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