#so there���s no point calling it quits early. I won’t see her sooner

[rumblelibrary]

Okay this may sound like an oddly detailed request but can you do a Laszlo x reader where Laszlo has been courting the reader for a while and has never met her father, because her father is dead or abandoned her at a young age or something like that and she never told Laszlo, but Laszlo is instant on meeting him for some reason or something like that?

Sorry if thats a weird request

Unofficial Meeting [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Fem!Reader]

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: a bit angsty, mention of old fashioned ideas

Author’s note: I hope you will like it and I respected your wishes <3

"Miss?"

The voice of your chamber maid called you distracting you from answering some correspondence.

"Yes?"

She smiled so widely as a bouquet of white roses and peonies was presented in front of you. She giggled as she was just so happy for you. You have been courted by Dr Laszlo Kreizler for some time now, but he never missed to send you flowers on a Saturday morning, it was his ritual since you two became serious.

"Those are so beautiful, miss"

She said excitedly before leaving you to read the note, she was probably living the romance through you which was quite weird but cute to witness.

You opened the card, Laszlo usually was a brief but intense poet, but this time the message was clear. Can I tempt you with a lunch at Delmonico's?

You frowned lightly before looking out of your window, his dark clothing making him strikingly visible in the greenery of the park in front of your house, he raised his hat for you and smiled.

Damn him and his top level courting.

You put your letters away and got ready spraying some perfume on you before going out, your maid helping you with your coat and hat.

When you stepped out of the front Door Laszlo was waiting in front of your gate.

"You could have called"

He smirked at you "it wouldn't have been a surprise" he concluded simply.

You smirked as it was true and you have also learned to admire the extent of Laszlo'd courtship. He was attentive and respectful, he knew when to trace a line to forbid any kind of bad talks. He was already famous for being a maverick and he didn't want to put that stigma on you too.

You obliged him as you walked your way together to the restaurant, he never failed to ask you about your day and your plans. he was very attentive and you reserved him the same tenderness asking him about his patients or latest articles.

Once you arrived at the restaurant you were brought to one of the best tables, Laszlo taking upon himself the honour to move your chair back behind you and then back toward you for you to sit comfortably.

"Thank you Laszlo"

He smiled proudly taking it as a compliment, but he looked rather stiff and tense for his usual mannerism toward you.

Once you ordered your meal he toyed with his glass of wine a bit attracting inevitably your attention.

"What is wrong?"

He looked at you surprised by your question, but he smiled because you sort of alleviated him from the weight of beginning what he wanted to ask.

"I was just wondering when I will be able to meet your father" he said just as directly as your question was "I met your grandmother and your uncles and aunts, I am missing somebody"

He said it quite easily as your mother had left this earth early for the standard and you regret she won't be able to see what an amazing man you met.

"You don't need to meet him"

He stared at you puzzled, what really concerned him wasn't your refusal, but more the hardness you showed into expressing it.

"I think I do"

You glared at him, your conversation briefly interrupted by the waiters landing the plates in front of the two of you.

He thanked them before looking back at you, your stern look still there.

You had discussions before but never of this size and also as much as he tried before to hint the theme of your father he wasn't acknowledged at all.

He also noticed how the rest of your family followed that same guideline, acting like they found you under a tree.

"I think it is something I have to do sooner or later"

You glared at him again.

"Stop it"

It was hard for him to stop. He was already launched on the theme and he was worse than a wild animal when he got fixated over a theme in particular.

You pushed some common ground theme while you ate. Like John or Sara's agency or other mundane things, but you hated to see the intensity in his look.

That question over and over into his mind.

You never hated to be with him as much as you did now.

You declined the offer of a dessert pretty quickly just wanting to go away.

Laszlo obliged and lead you back outside escorting you to your place.

"I don't mean to be invasive.."

"But you're" you confirmed to him "thank you for the lunch, I can walk myself home on my own”

You left him there moving after your house's gate.

He stood there biting the inside of his cheek nervously.

You didn't contact him any further on that day or the ones that followed, to be honest you avoided him and his flowers and attentions. You even stayed at home instead of attending places you were supposed to be, but where he also might find you.

Until your grandmother called you and you furiously ordered your maid to call the doctor and make him come at your place.

He arrived quicker than you expected. He was worried something happened, maybe you were ill and nobody told him.

When your maid showed him the way to your study and closed the door behind him he tried immediately to politely ask you about your state but your eyes burned holes like bullets in him.

“How dare you?” You growled at him. He stood still in front of you, his back straight even if you didn’t fail to notice the frown on his forehead.

“How dare you to call my grandmother? To ask her something I specifically told you I don’t want to share or talk or even mention? What is s hard about it? What makes you rightful to come bashing into my life asking for answers? “Y/N”

“No, no Y/N, you doctor, should learn to put a line between when you’re an alienist and when you’re a decent human being” you were being extra hard on him, but just earring your grandmother worried voice was enough to make you snap his neck.

He took your rage like a champion, even if he clearly was suffering it.

“Why is so important Laszlo? Why to see your mind at ease? It is just a man, somebody that doesn’t belong to my life, why you have to push it? Why you always have to push it?” “I just hoped..” “Hoped what? Hoped that a man that abandoned a pregnant woman while courting her was worth my time and thoughts? That I need to share my own life with somebody that wasn’t there? That never asked to meet me, or even see the woman he swore to every wind that he loved? That put my mother in the position of being considered a whore? How my grandma had to pretend I was hers to try give my mother a good shot at life?”

All those truths hit Laszlo like a bag of bricks, he was overwhelmed and saddened. Those situations were the ugliest in those times. Women always paying off the debts of the lust of men. The simple promise of a marriage just to gain something that could be tasted forever with a little more of wait. Just the human need to break a rule, just one, that revolutionary feeling that only losers at heart have. Because nobody makes a revolution over the expenses of a loved one.

“I had no idea” he concluded

“I hope you are satisfied now, your scientific mind has now all the puzzle pieces, now leave and let my family alone”

You could see his shoulders fall as you said that to him, his face paling in fear and sadness. He pressed his lips tight against each other, his jaw hurting as he didn’t know if at this point was really worth it to explain why he insisted so much. He ruined it, he tried to treat you with the white gloves and instead he hurt you even more.

“I apologise” he said staring at you, you letting him speak for the first time “I never meant to put you in such a position, I really just meant to be close to your family and I couldn’t see the fault in my own desires”

He admitted it but you didn’t wince, he crossed the line, he went too far and he needed to learn to respect the limits of others, not everyone needed to be under his care.

“I said you may leave”

He looked out of your window searching for words. Your anger was waving down as he looked so upset, and he should be.

“I am also a victim of our society in my own means, even if my behaviour is not excusable in any way, I stupidly fixated on the idea of doing things right with you and some things… Well, they teach us boys some things have to be asked to a father first”

You looked at him with a frown, you shook lightly your head as you didn’t understand his point and you were five seconds away from throwing him the vase with the latest flowers he sent you when you looked at him pul out a little velvet box from his inner pocket.

“The times are modern now, it was silly of me to try move past you like that” he leaned the box on your desk. He nodded at you respectfully leaving. You were left alone with that little box, you stared at it for a moment before moving closer to it.

You looked out of the window as you heard the gates closing and you watched Laszlo’s figure walk away.

Your eyes darted from his back to the box in front of you slowly opening it to find the ring of the dreams of any girl.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling

Let me know if you want to get tagged to my publications too <3

[sourholland]

A Royal Convienence || Tom Holland

| Series Masterlist |

Part One

Summary → When an alliance is made between England and France, you are sent away to marry the crown prince and heir to the British throne. Except both you and Prince Thomas despise each other at all odds, subjected to the hand of the monarchy and unable to stand each other.

AN → I’m so excited for this, I honestly thought it’d be out a little sooner but whatever.

Pairing(s) → Prince!Tom x Princess!Reader

Warnings → None

Word Count → 1.8k

Word of the royal engagement had spread quickly, not only by mouth, but through the newspapers as well.

Prince Thomas of Wales and Princess Y/N of France would be married in the spring. Only six weeks awaiting the royal wedding where the crown prince would marry the firstborn princess of France. Rumors of His Majesty, King Dominic’s ill health thickened the air, leaving the country to wonder if the reason for the sudden alliance was perhaps in favor of the succession of the eldest prince.

“Your Royal Highness,” the man bowed his head as you stepped from the ship onto the dock.

You lifted your gloved hand to his outstretched fingers, helping you onto the grass. The clouds hung grayly in the sky, droplets of rain threatening to spill. The man guided you to the carriage not far from where you’d disembarked. He was clearly a member of the royal guard, dressed stiffly and talking very little. You couldn’t tell if this was due to your status or the requirements he was to adhere to.

The inside of the carriage was decorated richly, plush bench seats accompanied by satin curtains of gold. You were tempted to reach over and touch them, retracting your hand when the carriage jerked and began to move through the crowded streets of London.

You were exhausted, hardly sleeping on the journey from France. You’d been unable to keep down any food, seasick and lethargic the whole way. You hadn’t been able to freshen up, assuming that your hair which had been pulled back was a mess by now. You also hadn’t been afforded the luxury of taking your ladies with you, some of which had been with you since you were a girl. This was making things like lacing your own corset considerably more difficult.

The whole way to Buckingham Palace had gone by rather fast, the scenery passing you by reduced to blurs in your memory. It was a much different atmosphere than that of France, or at least what you’d been allowed to see of it. You spent most of your early life being taught how to rule a country, being the heir to the throne until you reached the age of fourteen. Your mother, the Queen Consort Marie, had finally produced a son, an heir, a male to take the throne once the king died.

This day, the day when your brother Prince Louis was born, had been one of the most dreadful days of your life. Everything you’d been working towards, learning about, being trained for, was stripped away from you. After that, you’d been reduced to what it seemed every woman was around you, aristocracy or not, an object of marriage.

Some years later, you would be called into the throne room and told by your father that you would be wed to the Crown Prince of England. You’d only met Prince Thomas once before, at the English Duke’s wedding when you were only twelve years old. He had been only fourteen, unbothered and unfazed by your presence. From what you recalled, your encounter with him had been less than pleasant.

You’d made several attempts to speak with the Prince throughout the night, taking your mother’s words of encouragement. He brushed you off every time, once telling you that he did not care for the French, nor your way of approaching the ‘next King of England.’

“Ma’am.”

You were brought away from your thoughts at the man’s words, your head rising from its place at the wall of the carriage. You glanced out the window, the large palace greeting you. You remembered nothing of coming through the gates, or even seeing the Buckingham Palace for the first time.

You stepped out, flattening your skirts with your palms and doing the best with your hair. You couldn’t imagine how improper you’d probably looked, your stomach churning at the thought of walking through the doors of the palace.

The walk from the carriage to the set of doors that led you into the large entryway was short. The walls were covered in rich fabrics, candles lighting each walkway. The guards accompanying you remained silent, the sound of your shoes against the fine carpet in your ears. You remembered your governess, the way she’d always remind you that a princess never slouched. The straightening of your back and extra spry in your step helped you to gain back a bit of confidence.

Through what felt like dozens of twists and turns, the tallest guard was pushing open two large doors. You stepped in wearily, recognizing it as the throne room. You suddenly became very aware of your appearance, the way you must be an absolute mess.

“Her Royal Highness, Princess Y/N of France,” he announced to the room.

You walked before the throne and gave a deep curtsy to both King Dominic and Queen Nicola. You met each of their eyes nervously, you knew it was wrong to look for any bit of illness in the king, unable to help yourself from noticing his paleness and sunken in eyes.

“Your Majesties,” you addressed.

“Why, I haven’t seen you since you were a girl,” she remarked. “Of course, then you were to be the Queen of France. And now—well, there’s Prince Louis, correct?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you answered with a twinge of bitterness. “My brother should take the throne some day.”

King Dominic’s eyes scanned over you promptly, looking for any imperfection, any flaw to point out. This wasn’t odd behavior of a king, yet it still seemed to make you stammer over your words.

“You’ve grown very beautifully, I’m glad of this,” she added. “We’ve had portraits sent over, however, I will say that you are a fine-looking girl.”

There was no sign of the Prince, nor his younger brothers. It was only the king and the queen that occupied the throne room. You felt almost relieved of this, not wishing to see any more people in your current state. You also dreaded your imminent fate, a vow of marriage to a man you hardly knew, let alone could stand.

The large doors opened once more, revealing the eldest Prince, behind him were the twins, and next was the youngest. Prince Thomas held a blank expression, his eyes not yet meeting your own as he walked with his brothers to bow at his parents feet.

“Thomas, I’m sure you remember Y/N,” his mother said, motioning towards you.

His gaze fell on you, his eyes dipping from the cream colored skirts that swayed at your feet, to the mess of hair falling into your face slightly. His hair was slicked back and styled, the embroidery on his tunic rich and in season. His eyes darkened, a look of disdain flashing for a moment.

“I do, mum, I quite clearly recall us being introduced at cousin George’s wedding a few years back,” he answered.

He forced a grin, looking to his mother for approval. She went on about wedding preparations, dining plans, and which wing of the castle your chamber would be. It didn’t take long for you to realize how much of a rambler Queen Nicola truly was. You could only blame it on her longing for a daughter, and the fact that this was the first wedding she’d be able to orchestrate for one of her sons.

“Tomorrow you’ll meet me to choose an engagement ring, then to tea where your Ladies in Waiting will be,” she spoke modestly. “It’s far too late to do anything this evening. Though, I’m sure a chaperone could be arranged if you and Tom wished to speak for a time privately.”

“That won’t be necessary, mum. It’s quite late, I’m sure the Princess would rather retire to her chamber for the night,” the Prince interrupted. Good, you thought. You had no desire to be anywhere near Thomas, not now, and definitely not for what was playing out to be the rest of your miserable life.

“Ma’am,” you started. “Do excuse me if I’m incorrect, however, I thought Prince Thomas should have been the one to choose an engagement ring?” You asked, a snort came from Tom, a dismissive look from the Queen following. He grimaced as his younger brother, Prince Sam, you assumed, had elbowed him in the ribs.

“Well—yes, you are correct. Traditionally, if you and Thomas had courted, and then he’d gone to your father for his blessing, he would have chosen an engagement ring once you agreed to have him. This is not a traditional engagement, though. You’ll look through some of our most precious jewels, I assure you, Y/N.”

You felt your face heat up at her words, drowning out the last of her speech and curtsying again as she and the king left the room. The three younger Princes followed suit, Tom stopped at the archway for a moment. A servant most likely waited behind those slightly ajar doors, ready to escort you to your chambers.

“Princess,” your title lingered on his lips.

“Prince Thomas, can I help you?”

“I wish you would not refer to me as Thomas, that god awful name is reserved for my mother,” he said shortly. “Tom will do fine.”

“Prince Tom, then. Is there a reason you’ve stayed back? We shouldn’t be alone in here,” you had only been in the palace a short time and the last thing you wanted was a scandal.

His expression was not endearing in the least, he looked burdened by you. His jaw was set, his eyes malice, the curl of his lip in disgust. You took in a breath, mimicking his body language and going to pass him out into the hall. You were caught off guard by the jerking of your forearm, his hand grasping at it harshly and pulling you much closer to his face than you had been before.

“If this is what I must do for my country then so be it, however, do not think for a second that I would ever willingly marry someone like you,” he cursed, leaning in so close that you could feel his cool breath on your skin.

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual,” you said, looking him dead in the eyes. The weight of his words stung like a blade, his expression like pouring salt into an open wound.

“Well then, something we can agree on.”

You yanked away from him, brushing off his grasp and looking up at him with narrowed-eyes. He gritted his teeth as you flattened the fabric of your skirts once more before you left the large room in a fleeting motion.

taglist- @justapurrcat @witchyartemis @keithseabrook27 @clara-licht @dummiesshort @username2002 @imaginationisgrowth @nova-sup3r

[fictionalfics]

I had an idea. Could you do a crossover thingy where Aizawa has a daughter and she goes missing and he comes in the next day looking worse than normal and then the broadcast gets sent out and Aizawa sees his daughter in it and he gets either happy she’s alive or sad because she’s in a war?

This is s great idea! I’ve never written a parent fic before, so this is quite a challenge. Hope it came out okay!

Title: Not This Time

Pairing: Dad!Aizawa x Daughter!Reader

!TW: VIOLENCE, KIDNAPPING, MENTIONS OF K*LLING, LIGHT ALCOHOL USE!

(Gifs not mine)

“Aizawa-sensei’s been sleeping a lot more than usual, have you noticed Iida-kun?” Midoriya looks at his classmate expectantly as they make their way to the dining hall.

It was true, their rugged teacher had been sleeping in class a lot more lately. He had barely greeted his class before the yellow sleeping bag made its appearance. 

“I’m sure its nothing, Deku,” Ochako chimes in, “This is the first time in a while he’s taught a full class. Besides, you know who he has to deal with.“

Midoriya chuckles as his friend gestures to Kaminari, Bakugo and Kirishima - they didn’t mean to be, but they were one of the main sources of trouble in class 1-A.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

                                                         --------

Back kick. Block. Jump, kick, dodge. Bend the knees, feet to the floor. Breathe, start again. 

The thick material of your scarf is tight around your palms as you dodge attack after attack. You hold your hand out and erase the enemy’s quirk, before landing a swift chop to the neck. Another one down. You handcuff them as fast as you can before dodging a beam of light. It just catches you ear, the scent of burnt hair becoming more intense as you roll to the side.

A stakeout operation gone wrong. A local gang that turned out to be something much bigger. You were fighting a war that had nearly run its course, and this mission was meant to be one of the last. That was, until your stakeout partner revealed she was working for the other team, a double agent. 

That left you in this mess. You wished your dad was there with you right now, but he wasn’t. He’d taught you to cope on your own, you told yourself. You’d manage.

Smack!

                                                       -------

Three days. No text, no call, no you. Shouta had waited in the living room all night, sipping coffee to stay awake. It had been three days since you walked out the door with a great big smile on your face, saying goodbye as you left for work.

Ten years ago, the seemingly heartless man had taken you into his care after saving you from your burning orphanage. The hero saw himself in you, especially since your quirks were so similar. He trained you himself, teaching how to use the capture rope alongside your fists.

You had enrolled in Shiketsu High, in order to separate yourself from your dad, and started your work studies with a mid-ranked but successful pro in your second year. 

Shouta was extremely proud of you, and made sure you knew it every single day.

But it was unlike you to stay out for days at a time without contact. The first night wasn’t so bad - maybe she’s at the bar with friends, I’ll see her in the morning, he thought to himself.

You weren’t there in the morning. He put it down to you staying over a friend’s house - he was up pretty early after all, so you’d be home later.

Nope. Nothing. He continued to make excuses up for you all night, and all the way into the morning too, only grabbing an hour’s sleep before leaving for work.

When he came home to an empty house for the third day in a row, he started to panic for real. Texted you every hour, on the hour. Called a couple of times. Called your workplace, to no avail.

6:30 on the clock. Shouta chugged the rest of his coffee and slung his work bag over his shoulder as he noted it was day four now. Work was going to be a long one.

                                                        ------

Your ears rang as your former partner delivered another slap to your face.

“This would be over so much quicker if you told me where the boss is being held hostage, Y/N. You’re making this so hard for yourself!”

“Go to hell.”

Wack!

A scream held back in your throat, your teeth grind together as you fight through the pain. The edges of your vision began to go black, and you almost considered telling the gang everything.

                                                        ------

Shouta’s thumb was over the send button when he heard your name on the local news. 

Y/N Aizawa missing in action. Something about a fight against a gang, an ambush they said. No other details could be released for citizen safety.

The hero didn’t even realise he’d slid off the couch to kneel in front of the TV. Missing in action. He rested his forehead on the box, his hair sticking to the screen due to static.

Missing. You were missing.

His legs carried him to the agency you worked with. His voice demanded to see your boss, begged for the details of your whereabouts.

They wouldn’t tell him. “We cannot release details to the public, its for her safety as well as theirs,” your boss told him.

Shouta argued that he wasn’t the public, that he was a hero like you.

“There’s nothing more we can do, I’m afraid.”

                                                       -------

The ropes had begun to bite into your wrists as you hung from the ceiling. After deciding the initial interrogation was obsolete, the gang had taken you to a new building and strung you up. Your feet could almost touch the floor, but had given up trying to get free an hour ago. Possibly. You didn’t know how long you’d been there. You were sure you’d stayed awake, but even blinking felt like it took days in that dark room.

You strained your ears from information.

Move........found.....kill her.......risk? No......stupid.....

There wasn’t enough for you to piece together the crumbs of information. You were sure you were going to die at this point. So much potential, a great future ahead of you.

No, you can’t think like that! What would Dad do in this situation?

You couldn’t answer that one. Instead, you hummed a lullaby to yourself - your favourite that he used to sing to you if you’d had a nightmare. This entire situation was a bit of a nightmare, so you thought it was appropriate.

The door opened before you, the bright light bringing tears to your eyes.

                                                       -----

“She’s gotta be alright Shou, she’s tough! Besides, didn’t you go MIA all the time?” 

Hizashi did his best to comfort his friend, handing him a small glass of whiskey, which Shouta drank in one. He slammed the glass to the table with a dull thud.

“That’s different Yamada. I knew where I was, and I was never gone for long. I don’t know where she is, and it’s been nearly a week.”

The blond runs his palm down his face, not wanting to admit the he feared the worst too.

“She’s a hero Shou, bad things happen. You know the dangers and she does too, she’s not dumb.”

“Another whiskey please.”

Hizashi refilled Shouta’s glass, and the liquid disappeared as quickly as he’d poured it.

“She’ll be okay Shou.” 

                                                       ------

Your arms were freed of their painful restraints as your friends occupied the gang and, summoning as much strength as you could, dragged yourself to your feet, using your peer as a crutch. Your head turned to watch your team take on the four or five people that had taken you hostage, silently celebrating as you limped to the exit.

“Sorry we took so long Y/N, it took us a while to figure out where they’d taken ya!”

A tired chuckle escaped you as your co-worker apologised. “At least you’re here now.” Your response wasn’t completely a joke, but you couldn’t blame them. This gang was good at hiding.

“The whole operation is gonna be extended, thanks to the newbie. We had no idea she was a double agent- it’s gonna set us back to square one!”

Double agent. You scolded yourself for not catching on in time. “I’m sorry, I should have figured out sooner. Now the entire mission’s been compromised.”

Your peer sat you in the back of an ambulance that had come along with the police.

“Don’t beat yourself up silly! Even us pros didn’t know, there was no way a student could have guessed!”

The fight was over relatively quickly, thankfully. After the criminals were handed over to the police for interrogation, you were escorted back to the agency to be patched up, and report to the higher-ups.

                                                         ------

Eraser didn’t immediately jump up when the front door creaked open. He was a hundred miles away, trying to convince you to take a day off instead of going to work. You’d be home with him that way, smiling as you cooked your favourite meal in the kitchen. That smile... How badly he missed it.

He felt the couch sink next to him.

“Sorry I’m late Dad, I had one hell of a day at work!”

Dad? He snapped back to reality as the words sunk in. He looked to where the voice came from - his eyes traced it back to you. Covered in cuts and bruises, dark circles adorning your eyes, but you all the same.

“Y/N!” The dark haired man jumped up and lifted you into his arms. You giggled and squeezed him back, giddy with relief.

“Y/N Aizawa, you are grounded forever! What the hell happened to you?”

He set you down on the couch as you began to explain as much as you could, without giving away classified information.

“But I’m here now! I’ve got about a week to recover, because I wasn’t injured too badly, plus they did hold me in the recovery room for a day.”

“A week?” His shoulders slumped at the thought of you fighting. “They’re sending you back out there?”

“Yeah. The mission isn’t over yet, we have to dismantle them completely.”

Shouta ran a hand through his hair, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Promise me you won’t go missing again.”

“I can’t. You of all people should know that.”

“Humour me.”

Breaking eye contact, you sighed, before looking back at your father and smiling as wide as you could. “I won’t go missing this time Dad. I promise.”

“Good.” Shouta patted your head before standing up and making a beeline for the kitchen. “You’re still grounded forever.”

“But Dad!”

“No buts!”

“Even if I make you some coffee? Maybe cook some yakitori?”

“I may reconsider,” he chuckled. You always knew your way to his heart.

He loved his daughter so damn much.

[noforkingclue]

How He Feels (Sam Wilson x reader x Bucky Barnes)

Summary: It was clear to everyone apart from you that Sam liked you. Maybe with a little encouragement Sam would tell you how he felt before it was too late.

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary

Warnings: Angst, angst, all the angst and unrequited love!

Author’s Note: Prequel to Come Back

“You should tell her.”

Sam jumped when he heard Steve speak. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t heard him approach. Steve gave him an amused look as Sam folded his arms and looked away.

“Tell who what?” he asked

“Y/n,” Steve nodded out at the figure watching the sunset, “It’s obvious.”

Sam looked at Steve out of the corner of before sighing and looking away. He ran a hand over his face and said,

“That obvious?”

“To someone who knows you, yes.”

“Fuck.”

“Hey,” Steve clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder, “You need to tell her.”

“That would only make things worse.”

“How?”

“You know her rule, no dating team mates.”

Steve sighed and looked at his friend. Sam’s affection for you was clear, especially to Steve who could clearly see how much you meant to him. Ever since you and Sam had met you had gotten along. The bond between the two of you was clear and while Sam’s feelings were obvious yours were less so. You were naturally affectionate with most people so it was surprisingly difficult to tell your true feelings.

“Besides,” Sam continued, “I don’t want to ruin our friendship. What happens if she doesn’t feel the same way? Things won’t be able to go back to the way they were before. Even if she says we can remain friends it’ll be awkward. There’ll be no going back if she rejects me.”

“Sometimes,” said Steve, “Things in life are worth taking the risk.”

At that moment you looked over at them and beamed. As you started walking towards them Sam’s gaze softened at your smile. He tried to push down the feeling in his stomach when he saw the way your eyes lit up when you saw them. Maybe Steve was right, maybe some things were worth taking the risk on.

 *

 “You’re in love with her.”

Sam looked over at Natasha who was standing next to him. Steve had gone out and you were currently sleeping on the sofa. When you, Steve and Natasha arrived on Sam’s doorstep he didn’t hesitate in letting the three of you in. The exhausted look on you face made Sam want to scoop you into his arms and never let you go. To assure you that everything will be alright and he’ll be there to protect you.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Please,” Natasha gave him a pointed look, “It’s obvious.”

“That’s what Steve said.”

“Did he,” Natasha looked amused, “And you still haven’t done anything?”

“Why would I?

“This life,” Natasha looked back at you, “Is far too short to hold anything back. You think that you can put it off for one more day, that you’ll tell her how you feel tomorrow, but when tomorrow comes one of you might not be around to hear it.”

“So what you’re saying is I should tell her because one of us might die tomorrow.”

“Could even be sooner.”

“Has anyone told you that you’re an optimist?”

“I prefer the term realist.”

Natasha gave him a brief smile but Sam kept looking at you. He had initially tried to persuade you to take his bed and for him to sleep on the sofa. Of course it was because it was comfier than the sofa but a small part (a very small part) wanted to see you wrapped up in his sheets. To see what you might look like in his bed, to have a guess at what it might look like to wake up next to you. You turned over in your sleep and the blanket Sam had given you fell to the floor. Immediately Sam moved to place it back over you, much to the amusement of Natasha.

“Sam?”

Sam froze when you said his name sleepily. You looked at him and rubbed your eyes tiredly.

“What time is it?” you asked trying to sit up

“Early.”

“Then why aren’t you asleep?”

“Couldn’t fall asleep,” he said, “You should try and get some more. You sure you don’t want the bed?”

“Positive. Besides your sofa is surprisingly comfy. Night Sam.”

“Night sleepy.”

As Sam walked passed Natasha he ignored the pointed look she gave him. It was better to deny his feelings for you and preserve a friendship he wouldn’t exchange for anything then to confess and ruin it. Even if it hurt him to do so.

 *

 Seeing you, in that moment, made Sam understand why a crush was called a crush. It was because in the end someone’s feelings were going to get crushed. It just never occurred to him that it might’ve been his.

He was watching Bucky awkwardly trying to teach you to dance. A small smile was on you face and your cheeks turned red whenever Bucky touched you. Soft 1940s music echoed around the hideout as Bucky took one of your hands in his. Bucky hesitated slightly before moving his metal hand to your waist. It stopped just above it and you smiled up at him. You took Bucky’s metal hand and placed it on your waist, clearly not bothered by the danger you could be in. Bucky seemed startled by your apparent bravery but you ignore the look and started swaying to the music.

Sam didn’t comment when he heard Steve approach him or shake off the comforting hand he put on his shoulder. He didn’t realise how close you and Bucky had become since he had last seen you. It was something he wasn’t expecting. He had seen you smiled and laugh a hundred times before but what struck him most was the look in your eyes.

The soft, understanding gaze of someone who had found a deeper connection with another person. The way your eyes lit up when Bucky spun you around or when you lost your footing and Bucky immediately wrapped his arm around your waist to steady you. The way you laughed and rested your head against his chest. Sam closed his eyes and walked away not able to stand seeing you and Bucky together. He was vaguely aware of Steve following him but he didn’t say anything until they were out of the room.

“When did that happen?” Sam asked eventually

“They’re not together.” Steve said quickly

Steve gave him a disbelieving looking and Steve shifted awkwardly.

“Not very long, I think,” he admitted, “Not quite sure how it happened.”

Sam was silent for a moment then he ran a hand over his face. Steve stood back and grimaced slightly. Sam’s feelings had been clear from the start but you had always been oblivious to them.

“Look, Sam-“

Sam held up a hand and Steve stopped.

“Not right now,” he said, “What I really need is a drink.”

 *

 Sam had never seen a sunset quite like the one in Wakanda. Colours he didn’t even know that the sky could make were splashed across the sky. You were leaning against the balcony watching the sun slowly set as he walked towards you. The two of you stood in silence until you said,

“Do you ever think he’ll wake up?”

“Who? Bucky?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Good.”

The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence. That was the one thing Sam loved about being with you, even when the two of you didn’t talk it was never awkward. You could be doing completely different things and never have a moment of awkwardness between you. Sam could count the number of people he could do that with on one hand and most of them were family.

“I didn’t know,” he said eventually, “About you and Barnes.”

You looked over sharply. Even in the dying light Sam could see the red on your cheeks.

“He’s just a friend,” you said, “I don’t date colleagues.”

“He’s not exactly a colleague is he.”

Sam couldn’t help the bitterness in his voice and you looked at him in shock. Eventually you said,

“You still don’t trust him do you?”

“I’m just worried,” he said, “How well do you really know him?”

“I’m not dating him,” you said, “And we have actually spent quite a bit of time together. Steve’s been so busy lately so Bucky and I have been together. I’ve been helping him catch up to the modern world, watching films with him, introducing him to new music. He’s even been teaching me how to dance.”

Sam looked away, the memory of how close you and Bucky had been still fresh in his memory.

“This isn’t the Winter Soldier we’re dealing with,” you assured him, “It’s James Buchanan Barnes that we’re dealing with. He’s a different person. You trust me right?”

“Yeah. I trust you.”

“Good.”

You rested your head against Sam’s arm and he automatically wrapped an arm around your shoulders. The peaceful silence settled over the two of you again and Sam realised that there was nowhere else he’d rather be. With no one else around, and just you and him watching the sun set over Wakanda he could pretend that it was just the two against the world. While Sam knew his feelings weren’t reciprocated he was going to be there for you. He valued having you as a friend and right now that is what you needed more than anything in the world.

 *

 Sam practically flung open the door after you knocked. You stood there looking up at him for a second before you smiled and wrapped your arms around him. Sam enclosed him arms around you and rested his chin on top of your head. Everything had been so hectic since everyone came back that the two of you hadn’t had time to properly catch up. He breathed in the scent of your shampoo and you looked up at him amused.

“Missed me?” you asked

“Is that even a question?”

You laughed and playfully slapped Sam on the arm. He let go of you and stumbled back pretending to be hurt. You just rolled your eyes and entered his house, carefully shutting the door behind you. Sam had moved into the kitchen and started making you your favourite drink. It felt good to see you properly after so long and it had given him plenty of think to think over your relationship. A soft hand placed itself over his wrist and he looked up at you.

“What’s the matter?” he asked

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” you said, “It’s important.”

You had an anxious look on your face and Sam couldn’t help the butterflies that appear in his stomach. The bubbling nervousness that only increased when he fully took in your face. He had never seen you look so nervous before and you took a deep breath and walked away. You sat down on his sofa and patted the seat next to you with a soft smile. Sam didn’t hesitate in rushing to your side. He took your hand and brushed his thumb over your knuckles, a gesture he knew always calmed you down.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while,” you said, “But it never seemed the right time.”

“You know you can tell me anything,” said Sam, “What are friends for?”

“Of course.”

You smiled at him and Sam felt his heart skip a beat at it. He had forgotten how beautiful it was. How he wanted to pull you into his arms and kiss you and tell you how much he loved you. How he had always loved you and never wanted to let you go. Eventually you said,

“Sam, I’ve decided to retire.”

[bxccxdxll]

Travelin’ Soldier 2

Summary: Rosie receives her first letter from James and sets out to find a certain someone to keep an eye on for him.

Pairing(s): Bucky x OFC, Steve x OFC (platonic)

TW: a little talk of war, angst, fluff(ish)

Word Count: 1738

A/N: Soooo I’m enjoying writing this tremendously and this all kinda just spilled out of me at like midnight but I like it so I’m giving it to you peoples. Hopefully you lot enjoy it! I can already tell that I’m gonna cry while writing chapter 3 lol.

It had been almost a month since Rosie met James and he went overseas. She hadn’t heard from him after that first day and she was starting to think maybe she never would. She was just a stranger after all, a nobody. 

When she woke for work early this morning, she went about her normal routine. Taking a quick shower, before doing her hair, putting on a touch of makeup, and slipping into her uniform dress and apron. She checked her mailbox as she left the apartment like she had been since that day. But unlike everyday before, there was a letter waiting for her, with messily scribbled words scrawled across the front she could make out her address and that of an army camp from England. 

Rosie audibly gasped at the sight. She had lost hope last week of ever getting a letter from James, assuming he had just forgotten about her, but here it was. 

She quickly tore open the seal and pulled the worn piece of paper from the envelope. 

Dear Rosie,

I’m sorry I didn’t write to you sooner but training was real hard. They taught us how to shoot a gun and worked us so hard my muscles have been aching. Last week they told us when we’d be heading out into the field. I got two weeks till they actually put my unit out there. 

I’m scared. Terrified actually. But when it gets kinda rough over here, I think of that day sitting down by the pier and I close my eyes, and see your pretty smile. 

I have a favour to ask you. Would you mind checking in on my friend for me? His name is Steve Rogers, he’s a scrawny little fella and always manages to get himself into trouble. Normally I’d be there to help him out but obviously that’s not the case anymore. Thank you so much. 

Hopefully this stupid war is over soon and I can come back home and take you out on a proper date. Maybe we can go dancing? I bet you’d look gorgeous all dolled up for a night on the town. 

Anyways, I gotta get back to training. I can’t wait to hear back from you. I’ll write again as soon as I can.

Yours Truly,

James Barnes 

Rosie held the letter to her chest, right atop her heart and looked up with tears in her eyes. This man is the sweetest, most kind person she had ever met and he was so clearly alone and in pain.

Tucking the letter into the pocket of her apron, Rosie set off to work. Determined to finish up her shift as quick as possible so she could go find this friend that James spoke of.

~~~~~~~

It was around 4:00pm when Rosie finally finished up at the cafe. After gathering her things she set out on her mission to find one Steve Rogers.

She had asked the other girls at the cafe if they knew anything about him or where she could find him. They all said they’d heard of him getting beat on by some of the bigger guys in Brooklyn but had never met him themselves.

As Rosie was walking down the street on her way to the local park she made sure to check down every alley. Maybe Steve had managed to pick another fight with some bully.

While looking down one of the alleys, Rosie bumped into someone and stumbled back a few steps.

“I’m so sorry miss!” Spoke the voice of the man she had bumped into. “No no, it was my fault. I’m sorry.” Rosie said as she straightened out the skirt of her dress. Looking up she studied the man in front of her, realizing he was much shorter than she expected. After staring for a moment too long to be considered polite she voiced her thoughts. “You don’t happen to be Steve Rogers, do you?”

“Um, yeah that’s me. Why do you ask.” Steve questioned, confused as to why this beautiful damn would know his name.

Rosie’s eyes lit up at the revelation. “Oh! I’m Rosie. James wrote me and asked me to check on you. I wasn’t sure how I’d find you but here you are!” 

“James?..... Wait, you mean Bucky? How is he? I haven’t heard from him since he left.” Steve responded enthusiastically.

“He’s doing alright. Says it’s scary over there, wishes he could be home. May I ask why you call him Bucky?” Rosie replied.

“It’s a nickname. Comes from his middle name, Buchanan.” Explained Steve.

“Oh well that makes sense I guess. Bit of a funny nickname though.” Rosie giggled. “Well anyways, why don’t we meet up sometime so we can chat and get to know each other. That way I can write back to James and tell him I’m keeping my eye on you.” 

Steve ducked his head as he felt a blush rise to his cheeks. No dame had ever been so sweet to him. “Sure. I’d be happy to.”

“Okay, well I work at the cafe on fourth avenue. Maybe you could meet me there sometime tomorrow?” Rosie questioned.

“Yeah, sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow then I guess.” Steve replied, a tad uncertain. “See you tomorrow.” Rosie spoke as she continued on her way. “Don’t get into any trouble before then Steve!” She called over her shoulder, letting out a quiet giggle.

~~~~~~~

The next day was like every other. Rosie got up, got ready, checked the mail, and went to work. The only difference about today was that she was expecting Steve to come by at some point. 

Every time the bell above the door rang, Rosie’s head shot up and she hoped to see Steve walking in.

It was nearing the end of her shift and Steve still hadn’t showed up. Rosie was beginning to believe that Steve had chickened out and wasn’t coming. Just before she was about to gather up her things and head out that bell rang again and in walked Steve Rogers. 

Rosie smiled from ear to ear and ran over to greet Steve. “Hiya Steve! I almost thought you weren’t gonna show up. How’re you doing?” 

Steve blushed and looked at his shoes. “I’m doing pretty good. How are you, Rosie?” 

“I’m quite well thank you.” Rosie spoke sweetly. “I’m just finishing up my shift so how about you go take a seat and I’ll be right back.” 

“Okay” Steve was nervous as ever. He had never said more than two words to women as pretty as Rosie! 

As Rosie walked away to collect her things, Steve took a few deep breaths and told himself everything would be fine.

When Rosie returned she slid into the booth across from Steve and struck up a conversation almost immediately. 

“So Steve, how do you and James know each other?” She questioned politely.

“Well, we met when we were real young. I was the sick little kid who no one wanted to play with and Bucky didn’t really get along with the other kids. Sometimes the bigger kids would pick on me and push me around and one day Bucky saw ‘em doing that and stepped in. He told ‘em to ‘pick on someone their own size’ and sent ‘em on their way with a bloody nose. He’s kinda been my best friend and protector ever since. I seem to get myself into trouble quite often and he’s always the one to get me out.” Steve explained with an almost melancholic look on his face. “How about you? How did you meet Bucky?”

Rosie smiled softly at Steve’s explanation. She could tell from the way Steve spoke about James that they really did mean a lot to each other. “James and I actually met here. It was the day he got his orders. I had seen him in here a few times before then but he never sat at any of my tables. That day he did and he asked me if I’d be up for a chat. So I took him down to this place by the pier. Nice and quiet so we could talk and get to know each other. That’s all really. The next time I heard from him was just yesterday when I got his first letter.” 

Steve was a little shocked at the fact that Bucky and Rosie barely even knew each other but he could see that Rosie was such a kind sweet person. How could Bucky have resisted? “I’m glad he met you Rosie.”

“I am too.” Rosie smiled down at her lap. Her hands fidgeting with the letter tucked away in the pocket of her apron. 

The two spent another hour at the cafe, chatting and getting to know each other. By the time they were ready to part ways it was almost supper time and Rosie needed to get home. Steve asked to walk her home and Rosie let him. 

“It was really nice getting to know you Steve!” “You too Rosie.” They smiled at each other before Rosie turned around to head up the stairs to her apartment. 

Once she was inside Rosie got changed out of her uniform and into something a bit more comfy, before sitting down at her dining room table with a piece of paper and a pen.

Dear James,

I am so happy to hear from you! I won’t lie, I thought you might have forgotten about me. Anyways, I’m sorry it’s so scary over there. I wish you could just be back here with me.

I found that friend of yours, Steve. He’s quite a sweet young man. I had him come chat with me at the cafe so we could get to know each other and boy did I learn a lot. So Bucky, huh? It’s okay, I think I’m gonna keep calling you James. 

Work has been keeping me quite busy lately. Every few days, when I finish up my shift I’ll head down to the pier and just sit and think about you and us and all the things we could be doing if you were here. 

I’d absolutely love to go dancing with you. I will warn you now though, I’m not very good at it. 

I hope all goes well and you can come home as soon as possible.

Love always,

Rosie Parker

Ps. Please stay safe. I need you back in one piece.

________________________________________________________________

tags: @imanuglywombat @simplyemm @believeitseeitdoit

[mirkwoodshewolf]

My life, The Doctor; 10th Doctor x Nurse!reader

*Author’s note*

Hey guys I know it’s been awhile but I finally decided to work on another story outside the Queen/BoRhap fandom. Now this request came from @originalposter96 idk if this is your user name anymore but I hope you’ll be able to see it.

NOW WARNING HERE I AM NOT A DOCTOR OR A NURSE!!! So I know absolutely NOTHING about surgeries or anything like that, so this may seem as lazy writing (sorry) but I hope you all still enjoy this fic. So since this does involve the reader being a Nurse there is a hospital involved, surgeries, blood, removing bullets, gunshots, and a slight trigger warning for Domestic violence (not between the Doctor and reader just some side characters).

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@dancingcoolcat​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@ixchel-9275​

__________________________________________________________

There have been many wonderous places I’ve been to, many wonderful people and creatures I’ve met.  They all come and go in my life, whether through my adventures or by time itself all beings enter my life one way or another.  But throughout all my previous lives, every single being in the Universe that I had ever known, one person was above and beyond special.

Her name was (Y/n) (L/n).  And she—is and will always be the love of my life.

For a human she was extremely clever, sharp as a whip, but she was also kind, loyal, and the one thing about her is that she never gives up on anyone.  As a Head nurse—oh did I forget to mention that? Yes my (y/n) is one of the best Nurses in all of England.  

Anyone in her time or even in the future when she finally becomes an M.D. will tell you that she is one of the best.  In fact she finds out future cures for worldwide pandemics (of course sometimes her board would deny her research and billions of people perish. Rotten bastards).  Anyways, my (y/n) truly is one of a kind amongst the humans and I am glad to have met her.

And won’t she be surprised when she sees me.  It had been awhile since I had last seen her (maybe since the day she graduated medical school just a year ago her time) and now with the Cybermen and Daleks taken care of, now’s a good a time to go see her.

I set the coordinates for her time period and flipped the switch allowing the TARDIS to activate and soon going through time and space.

*My POV*

April 14th, 2015, 10:05pm.  It had been a long day.  5 surgeries, 3 MRI scans, a cancer treatment report, and 2 women in labor later, I was just about to drop right there on the floor.  I was thankful that in like 20min. my shift was gonna be over.

“You look like you’re about to drop dead right on the spot.” I snapped out of my sleepy stage to see my good friend Chrissie Lang.  She and I had graduated from the same Med school together, and had most of the same classes together.  She and I are each other’s support system cause in this line or work—it can take a toll on you.

I remember this one time this woman came in at 6 months pregnant bleeding profusely from her legs.  We both knew that she was suffering a miscarriage so we told to do what her Doctor told us to do, but by the end of it Chrissie was completely destroyed. She always wanted to be a mum and seeing something like that happen made her fearful for even trying to go for a baby with her and her boyfriend.

So for the next ten minutes after helping the woman out, Chrissie and I just held onto each other and shed our tears before we had to brush it off and move onto the next case we had.  For those that say being a Doctor or a Nurse is the easiest job to do, they’re liars. The job can hit you not just physically, but mentally as well.

“After 2 days of not sleeping, I just might. Put on my tombstone (Y/n) (l/n). Died with a heart of gold and a stomach of caffeine.”

“That’s true cause I swear girl, you’re probably the most caffeine addicted person I’ve ever met.”

“I can stop whenever I want, these are just choices.” We both chuckled softly.

“Excuse me ladies, but would you mind helping me with something?” a familiar voice said to me.  We both turned to our right and standing there with a bouquet of my favorite color of carnations was the Doctor.

“Of course, what can we do for you sir?” asked Chrissie.

“Hey Chris, why don’t you let me handle this?” I suggested.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, besides you’re about to clock out sooner than me, you go on and head home. I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay, see you later (n/n).” she bid the Doctor good evening and he did the same. Once Chrissie left the lobby, I turned towards the Doctor smiling widely as he did the same.

I immediately embraced him and he picked me up and twirled me around, the two of us laughing together.

“Oh I swear every time I come back, you get more beautiful.” He said as he set me down.

“I’m just happy you got to come back at all.” I said as I cupped his face in my hands. His eyes grew soft as he placed his hands over mine.

“I know what I do is dangerous, but you know why I do what I do.” I nodded in understandment.

“I mean hell it wouldn’t be any different if you were human and worked as a police officer or a fireman. Hell we humans live in a dangerous world, anything could kill us.”

“Which is what makes me the Doctor.”

“It does indeed.” I stroked his cheek with my thumb and that’s when he reached for the bouquet he had set down on the front desk and he presented it to me. “You always know just how to cheer me up.”

“Figured you might’ve had a long, rough day. Thought a little color could be used to brighten up your day.”

“It sure did, thank you my love.”

“Anything for you my life.”

That was a thing between us.  When we first started dating each other, we had a little code/nickname for each other. I call the Doctor ‘my love’ because ever since he literally dropped from the sky onto my doorstep, he’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met.

He’s quirky, bit of a goofball, can sometimes blow his top but that’s only when something really dangerous happens and he’s under stress (yeah I’ve traveled with him a couple of times during my time at Med school), but he’s also loyal, brave, beyond clever, and he always puts everyone else, especially the human race above himself.  For the last of his species, he’s an incredibly selfless person.

He calls me ‘his life’ because whenever things get too hard for him, since he and I have been through some rough stuff due to our day to day life, I always try my best to comfort him.  I know that he’s lost people, just like I have on a job, and it’s not an easy thing to get pass.

So we both try to be each other’s support system.  We know there is always loss in the world, but the thing is to not let that be the driving point that always controls your life.  You can use it to make you stronger, not let it drag you down any further.

“So how has my brave Dr. (L/n) been since I last saw her?”

“You know I’m not a Doctor yet, I still gotta go through the nursing program and then rise up in the ranks before I finally get it.”

“Oh rubbish, you should’ve been a Doctor right as you graduated.”

“Yeah well not according to the chief here.” I muttered annoyedly.

“Honestly though, that old fool wouldn’t know a good doctor if it turned around and bit him in the arse.” I shushed him but couldn’t help myself from giggling softly.

“You can be so cruel sometimes you know that?” he playfully shrugged.

“Only when it comes to people who hurt you.” he wrapped his arms around me and pecked my cheek. “How much longer till your shift ends?” I turned to the clock and responded.

“10 minutes. But…..I could clock out a little early since there hasn’t been a call.”

“Playing hooky ehh? You cheeky little minx.” He grinned like the Cheshire cat. As we leaned closer to each other about to kiss, the doors suddenly burst open and a frantic voice called out.

“HELP! HELP! MY BROTHER NEEDS HELP! HELP!” a blonde woman around her mid 30’s came in holding her brother who looked to be around the same age as her.  Quite possible they might’ve been twins cause I could see some similarities on the both of them.  Her brother was completely covered in blood and his lips were blue from blood loss.

“Okay Miss calm down. I NEED A STRECHER STAT!!” soon enough the nurses who were still here for the nightshift ran off as I walked towards the two siblings. “What happened?”

“My ex-boyfriend jumped us. He thought—he thought my brother was a new boyfriend of mine and he—he—oh god this is my f-fault!”

“No, no, no Miss this is not your fault.” As I tried to calm her down, the stretcher bed soon came in and a group of nurses helped the man on his back and began cutting away his shirt.

“I’m seeing 3 bullet wounds to the chest and one on his abdomen. Let’s move him!” I get onto the top right of him as we wheel him into the OR to save his life while another nurse stayed behind with the sister to calm her down.

I washed my hands and arms frantically and thoroughly before getting my shrubs and mask on.  Already the destine nurses, assistants and now our head Doctor, Dr. Murphy came in and he said.

“What have we got?”

“Four shots in the upper body, two in the lower. He might’ve lost a pint of blood at least.” Answered Nurse Yasmin.

“Maybe 2-3. His BP is dropping fast.” Added one of the male Nurses, Derek.

“Okay, any of those bullets rupture an organ?” asked Dr. Murphy.

“The one in his lower abdomen is just a centimeter before hitting his small intestine. If we don’t get that bullet out first he could bleed out internally.”

“Okay keep an eye on his BP. I need fluids, scalpels, suction tubs, retractors……”

“Lucy….”the man groaned out.

“(L/n), do your thing.” Said Dr. Murphy.  I nodded and came up to the man and said.

“Sir? Sir can you hear me?”

“Yes. Where—where am I?”

“You’re at the hospital. Your sister brought you in. Don’t worry she’s okay and told us what happened.”

“Good….good……She’s safe. I—I’d never forgive myself if—” he started fading out.

“Hey, hey, hey sir, sir stay with me now. What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?”

“Barry.”

“Okay Barry, I’m (Y/n) (l/n). My team and I are gonna help you but you need to stay with me for just a bit. Don’t give up on me.”

“It hurts….it hurts so badly.”

“I know, I know.”

“Give him a shot of morphine to numb the pain.” Dr. Murphy ordered.  Suzie got the morphine bag and needle ready and slowly stuck the needle into his left arm.  Barry hissed and I said to him.

“This’ll help lessen the pain. You won’t feel the pain as we try to get the bullets out of you Barry. But you gotta stay with me, okay?”

“I’ll—try……” he mumbled tiredly.  I placed my hand on his cheek and looked up at his vitals and saw his BP was continuing to drop and his heartbeat was going down.

As I looked around me, frantically Dr. Murphy and all the nurses were working together trying to get all the bullets out of him one by one, less we risk him bleeding out as two teams tried to work out a single bullet.  With the main one near his intestines cleared, Dr. Murphy and Nurse Helen worked on getting the few out of his upper chest.

All the while Barry kept groaning every now and then and his eyes were fading fast.

“Barry. Barry hey look at me boy. If you can’t do this for yourself, do it for your sister. From what she said about who had done this to you, you need to stay alive for her. What you did was heroic, but don’t let her see that that selfish son of a bitch won. She needs you, your family needs you.”

“I got the blood transfusion he now needs. Thankfully, we had our last bag of B+ in the storage bin.” A young male nurse who had only worked here for a year, Cody exclaimed as he came through the doors.

“Alright, start the transfusion now! We just got the last bullet out and his BP is dropping faster and faster!”

“You hear me Barry? We’re getting you your life back. But it’s gonna be up to you now. Don’t let him be the victor, not tonight! You hear me?” he groaned and looked right up at me and he whispered groggily to me.

“Why do you care so much?” I took a deep breath in and said as I stroked the hair from his face.

“Because so many people everywhere are already dying every day. Some because time has run out on them, others for serving their country, but there are the odds of people dying for now reason whatsoever. Or for stupid reasons that shouldn’t be a reason why someone should have to die, especially if it’s protecting their family member from some arsehole who can’t tell the meaning of the word No. Now your sister is out there waiting for you, if she loses you, she’ll have lost her Ace. Her only friend that has stuck by her through whatever it was that her ex-boyfriend did to her.”

“He…..always was a……selfish prick!” he coughed out.

“I’ll bet he was. But she survived him, and now you’ve got to survive too. Don’t give him that satisfaction that he took a life tonight. Can you do that for me?” he nodded softly and whispered out again.

“You’d make a great motivational speaker.”

“I was on the debate team back in secondary school. If you wanna hear more, you’ll just have to stick around Earth for a little while longer.” After his final stitches were in place, the blood transfusion began and it was then Dr. Murphy had Cody, Darren, and Helen wheel him into ICU.  From there, Barry would be monitored 24/7 till he woke up from his post-surgery coma.

Dr. Murphy took off his mask and gloves before turning to me and he said to me.

“Nice job keeping him talking.”

“Just doing my job sir.”

*Doctor’s POV*

Unaware to anyone else, I had snuck into the upper levels to witness the surgery in progress.  I watched as (y/n) stayed right by the young man’s side and kept giving him encouragement to stay alive.  But not for himself, for his sister.

This. Is why she would one day go down in the medical books as the world’s greatest Female doctor’s.  She always put the lives of the people her patient’s love over their own, then psychologically, the patient’s bodies would continue to fight on until finally they would find the strength to recover.

Of course she will have her failures cause that’s life.  You can’t save everyone but you can work harder at saving the ones you can save in the future.  She doesn’t let one failure get her down, that’s sometimes the curse of being a Doctor. When you lose people, it can really affect you. Even when those closest to you are the ones you lose.  Believe me I’ve been there millions of times throughout my 10 life cycles (she’s lucky she’ll only deal with one).

By morning, the lad Barry managed to make a full recovery.  His sister, Lucy repeatedly thanked all the doctors and nurses who helped out with saving her brother before giving her statement to the police.

I waited outside by the TARDIS for my beloved Doctor to clock out, and when she finally came out the poor dear looked exhausted.  I extended my arms out for her and she gave me a tired smile before collapsing into my arms.

“Just when I thought I could get at least one early night in.” her voice muffled against my trench coat but I still managed to hear her.  I softly laughed and rocked her gently as I assured her.

“I know, but hey if you hadn’t been here, that young man would’ve died.”

“Oh you know it was Dr. Murphy as well as a few other nurses that actually did the real operation to save him.”

“True, but you were just as important if not more. You kept him awake and talking.” I shrugged tiredly agree-to-disagreeing. “Now then, I think after a night like that, and from lack of sleep these past couple of days you deserve to be pampered and see the wonders of the galaxy.”

“How did you—”

“Besides the bags under your eyes, I’ve seen the amount of Starbucks cups at your apartment.” She groaned embarrassingly.  God this girl and her coffee addiction, truthfully I never understood why humans choose that as their beverage of choice.  I myself prefer a good Earl grey or even sometimes Jasmine tea but ugh that horrible bland stuff they call coffee?! Never. Again. Will that drink touch my taste buds.

“Care to show me the wonders of time and space?”

“Need a pick me up boost?” she nodded.  I kicked open the doors of the TARDIS and hopped inside before extending my hand out to her saying, “First question is though; do you trust me?”

“Always my love.” She replied with that loving soft smile of hers as she took my hand.

“Then brace yourself my life, because I’m going to show you the sound of the Universe.”

“You mean…..”

“Indeed I do my love, the Music of the Spheres.” Her smile grew wider and I pulled her into the TARDIS before shutting the doors behind her and together the two of us ran towards the consoles of the TARDIS and I punched in the coordinates and soon we took off for the Music of the Spheres.

And who knows where our next adventure would lead after that? So long as I got my love, my life, my Doctor with me by my side.

[jowritesthingss]

Excuse Me Sir This Is My Emotional Support Eldritch Being

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Pairing(s): n/a

Rating: Teen (for swearing)

Content Warning(s): rabbits, food/drink, mild(ish) swearing, not!Sasha, eldritch beings, spoilers through early s3-ish

Length: 2,190 words

Brief Summary: The archival team adopts a rabbit. (Part one of the Emotional Support Eldritch AU!)

AO3 link in reblogs bc Tumblr is a biatch!

*

“What is it?”

Jon levels a suspicious glare down at the fluffy blob comfortably stretched out in the middle of the overstuffed break room couch.

Tim blinks owlishly at him from behind his mug of tea. “A...rabbit?”

“Yes, but are you sure it’s a rabbit?” Jon asks insistently. “Not a—a spirit, or...an animated doll, or a clown in disguise or something?”

Sighing, Tim sets his tea down on the counter. “Look, I get the whole ‘suspicious of us being murderers’ thing—no I don’t, actually, but that’s beside the point—it. is. a rabbit.” For a good measure, he walks over to sit on one side of the rabbit, reaching a hand out to the little guy’s fluffy head. If a rabbit could smile, he suspects this one would be doing so as it leans up into his hand.

“No fleas or ticks...or worms, so it’s not some Jane Prentiss Pet Sematary crossover, I promise—” Tim rolls his eyes, “—the veterinarian confirmed as much when I brought the poor thing in. Out of the mud and the rain of the gutter,” he adds, not even attempting to hide the guilt-trip. He wishes Martin were here, with his ridiculously effective puppy-dog eyes.

Tim knows this is Jon he’s talking to, but surely even he can’t be that cold-hearted. He rather thinks that Jon will enjoy not being alone anymore down here during all his late nights. If he’d let himself, surely Jon would enjoy having company in the form of a teeny tiny creature that can’t and won’t harm him—which, uh, certainly is not why he’s lying about his current flat not permitting pets, no siree.

“...Fine. Whatever.” Jon points an accusing finger at him. “But we’re not keeping it,” he stresses. “The moment you find it a different home, it goes. The moment.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Tim chirps, although as he begins a staring contest with the rabbit’s curious red eyes, he has no intention of actually doing as Jon says.

Martin chooses this moment to walk through the door. His eyes light up. “Aw, is that a rabbit?”

“No, this does not mean you’re allowed to bring in more strays,” Jon snaps.

The light in Martin’s eyes fades. “Okay,” he says mournfully as he crouches to pet the rabbit, sulking.

-

“So what should we name him?” Tim asks Jon when the Head Archivist comes into the break room the next morning.

“Oh—my—” Jon startles where he stands by the counter, attempting to make himself some toast with the Archive’s horrible fifteen-year-old toaster—toast that now splatters across the floor. Somehow in his sleep-deprived stupor he must’ve missed Tim sitting on the couch with a white rabbit on his head. He never seems to really notice Tim, but at this point it’s fine enough; Tim has accepted that the guy has impossibly poor taste.

The rabbit clambers down from Tim’s shoulders, jumping off of the couch and padding over to investigate the new human(?) and the mess he made.

“How about Thumper?” Tim puzzles aloud, stretching leisurely and acting as if he doesn’t notice Jon frantically scrubbing up raspberry jam and trying to avoid the rabbit’s investigative snuffles all in one. “No, no...that’s too cliché.”

“I really don’t see the point in naming it when it shouldn’t be here more than a few weeks,” Jon comments, shooing the animal in question away before it can try to lick up any jam.

“Maybe Joe?” Tim continues loudly, as if he hadn’t heard the other. When the rabbit ambles back over to him, he scoops them up, pressing their noses together. “Ligma?” He shakes his head at the rabbit. “No, no. We need to have more sophistication as we go about this.”

“You could do with applying that sophistication to your work,” comes the grumbled retort.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Jon abruptly turns to burn another piece of bread in the toaster.

-

“How about Marshmallow?”

“What on Earth—” Jon shrieks, jumping in his desk chair, and a sheaf of papers is sent flying around the office.

“The rabbit. Should we call him ‘Marshmallow’?” Tim smiles as innocently as he can manage, standing out in the hall with his head peeping into his boss’ office. “Marshie for short?”

“I am in the middle of a statement!” Jon sputters. “Get out!”

“Okay, okay....” Tim fluidly shrugs his shoulders. “What about ‘Bob’?”

“Out!”

But Tim continues to pop into Jon’s office unannounced throughout the day, tossing out name suggestions. He even manages to rope Martin into doing it too, and notes with savage delight that between the two of them and his work, Jon doesn’t get much more than a moment to wallow rest for the remainder of the day.

Between the two of them Tim and Martin manage to compile a surprisingly long list of names:

Snowball,

Posy (Martin is partial to this one because he thinks it’s cute),

Bungen Leitner,

John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt (“is that too American of a reference for a fanfic taking place in the UK?” “what?” “what?”),

the Bunholding,

Michael (Jon is especially averse to that one for some reason),

Cottonball,

Fluffy Bastard (Tim’s own favorite),

Bugs Bunny,

Eldritch Horror (Tim tosses that one in as a joke; no way the rabbit that eats his own shit is some kind of otherworldly being),

Big Bungus (“it’s a play off Big Chungus!” “d’you seriously think anyone else here even knows what memes are”), and

the Vampiric Count Sir Maximillianus-Who-Is-Also-A-Werebun

(Despite badgering Sasha multiple times in an attempt to get her thoughts on the matter, the only name she offers up is “Dinner”, which makes Martin cry, so that one is out.)

None of the names quite seem to fit the little white puffball that has now taken over the realm of their break room, however—so Tim and Martin find themselves going back to the drawing board. They reluctantly leave the Institute at the end of the day, still without having decided upon a name.

-

“JON JUNIOR!” Martin screeches excitedly the next morning as they’re congregating once more in the break room, zombie-like before their tea and mid-morning snack time (primary schools don’t get all the fun, okay).

Jon and Sasha startle, and for once even Tim himself jumps. The rabbit doesn’t seem to care much where he is, nibbling at some hay in his corner litter box.

“I—what?” Jon asks, flabbergasted, although he manages to not drop his toast this time. Character development.

“We should name him Jon Jr! After you!” Martin explains eagerly.

“Absolutely not,” Jon tries to say, but before he can finish, Tim is jumping in.

“I think that is an excellent idea,” he says, grinning broadly. “Thoughts, Sasha?”

“I’m not emotionally invested in this.” Sasha shrugs, uncaring. “I’m going back to my desk.” She takes her drink and walks out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind her.

“All right, since Sasha doesn’t care, I’ll decide her vote for her,” Tim says, carefully containing his glee. “So that’s three votes for and one against, then. Majority rules.”

“What? No!” John protests, but Tim is too busy looking at the rabbit for confirmation.

“What do you think, little guy?” He walks over, bends down, and lightly boops the rabbit’s nose. “Are you a Jon Jr?”

The rabbit twitches his nose in agreement and poops.

“Well then!” Tim stands, clapping his hands together. “That’s been decided upon.”

No, it hasn’t,” Jon insists, but Tim cares little for his boss’ objections. He’ll accept his fate as Jon Senior eventually.

-

To Tim’s utter surprise and fascination, it happens sooner than later.

Jon, Tim quickly realizes, is a lot like the one dad who says “no dog” and then ends up loving the dog more than he loves his own children.

Despite his initial objections, the daft fool ends up getting caught up in Jon Jr’s big, innocent, rabbit-y gaze (worse than even Martin’s puppy-dog eyes, they conclude gravely), and by the end of the day Friday Jon has announced that he supposes the rabbit can stay with him over weekends and holidays.

“We’re still not keeping him,” Jon reminds them all, even as the rabbit gathered in his arms, giving his nose kisses and knocking his glasses askew, says otherwise.

He gets caught trying to sneak the rabbit into his office on more than one occasion, but Martin raises a fuss about it.

(“He’s all of ours! Jon Jr is our department’s mascot now,” Martin protests defiantly. “You can’t take him away from the rest of us.”

“Yeah,” Tim adds, mostly just to stir up drama—he doesn’t particularly care one way or another. “You can’t just swoop him up and file him away like one of your statements.”

“Just don’t let it get out and chew at my electronics,” Sasha says, distractedly typing something on her phone, probably to that weird new boyfriend.)

To stave off the imminent coup, Jon Jr becomes an officially-declared resident of the break room. He slowly amasses chub around his middle and a cardboard kingdom of bunny toys, houses, blankets, and treats. A rabbit could want for nothing more.

And perhaps—perhaps a human could want for nothing more, too, Tim thinks as he looks down at the figure curled up on the sofa, rabbit nestled against his chest.

He doesn’t love the man, not by a long, long shot—doesn’t even particularly like him half the time—but Tim can’t deny that the scene is adorable. And, regardless of his very vocal protests, Jon Jr may very well be what Jon Sr needs to finally process things and move the hell on with life.

Tim smiles grimly. It’s about damn time.

He quietly closes the door to the room and heads back towards the Archives. He’ll leave Jon to wake himself up.

(And to discover for himself that Jon Jr has peed on his pants leg.)

-

Of course, this is the Archive we’re talking about, so naturally the peace is abruptly shattered, and everything goes horribly, horribly wrong.

Tim isn’t entirely certain what happens or why, but all of a sudden Sasha isn’t really Sasha, and he and Jon have gotten backed up and cornered in the tunnels as this not-really-Sasha stalks towards them, predictably with the intent to kill, just like the rest of the spooks they are so lucky to deal with.

Tim and Jon Sr slowly back away until they hit a dead end. Meanwhile, Jon Jr licks at Tim’s arm—he’d been scooped up as they ran into the tunnels, Tim doesn’t entirely know why—and despite the fact that they are most probably about to, y’know, die, the little kisses almost feel strangely reassuring.

The thing-that-is-not-Sasha cackles, her—their?—its?—voice distorted and echoing throughout the tunnels. It stalks towards them.

All of a sudden, Jon Jr wriggles loose and leaps smoothly down onto the ground. He scampers in front of Tim and Jon, heading towards bitch-give-me-my-Sasha-back.

“No! Get back here!” Tim hisses at the rabbit, even though he knows it’s pointless. He hates to admit it, but he’s becoming rather fond of Jon Jr, even if Tim mostly brought him in to piss off and totally not help Jon. Jon—who, speaking of, seems to be equally fond now, judging by the deflating tire of a terrified squeak he makes, and the adorable immature grabby arms he makes at the little bugger.

“Junior,” Jon calls out, sounding like a toddler who’d just been told Santa wasn’t real (he is, they have the statements to prove it, he is). And Tim wants to laugh, albeit hysterically. The first time he sees his brick wall of a superior cry and it’s over a rabbit, and he’s not even going to have time to gloat over it because they’re about to die. “No! You’re going to���”

Jon Jr stops and sits in front of wholly-absolutely-totally-not-Sasha-what-the-fuck, who looks down at him, bemused through its murderous bloodlust.

The rabbit lifts a dainty paw up to his mouth, and suddenly—suddenly it’s twisting and huge, towering up to the ceiling of the tunnel, its skin hairless and tinted a sickly, glowing gray, with five, six, seven...a whole lot more limbs than a rabbit is supposed to have.

The not-rabbit unhinges its now meters-long jaw and snaps up the creature.

Tim and Jon stare at each other, wide-eyed.

There is a loud gulping sound, then a deafening crack, and suddenly there is a very normal white rabbit sitting in front of them again, carefully cleaning one paw with a very normal pink tongue.

“Wh—” Tim chokes on his own words.

The holy-shit-it-really-is-an-eldritch-horror-after-all stretches, yawns, and flops over in a dead sleep.

“...We’re keeping the rabbit,” Jon says faintly.

“I—yeah.” Tim nods, light-headed. “We’re keeping the rabbit.”

-

Jon Jr the rabbit-slash-eldritch-abomination gets a very hearty dinner of romaine lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumber peels that night.

-

(Tune in next time* for the terrible, terrible realization—“Jon Jr is a girl?!” (Also why is there another dead body again, dammit, can’t we go one week))

Fin

First || Next

*

(There may or may not actually be a next time. It depends. )

Behold. What very well may be the stupidest thing I have ever written. Ahem. Did I say stupidest? I meant most brilliant. Clearly I meant it’s the most brilliant thing I have ever written. Obviously.

Let me know if you enjoyed this! I have a bunch of ideas to continue this ridiculously silly AU of sorts, but idk if I’m going to quite yet and am not certain that I’ll be continuing to write for TMA. atm I’m focused on a different fandom, and I’m only on s3, so the really big idea I had has to wait, anyway.

Want to chat or be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

[mercurryblack]

Chapter 4: Sardion

As LLAC prepares for their first day on the job, Headmaster Lionheart pays the team a visit.

❃❃❃

“Come on, already! They said ‘bright and early’!”

The next morning had dawned, and Team LLAC had decided to start it early— involuntarily, for the most part. Lillian had woken up the rest of her team just as the first rays of sun had come across the horizon, before the skies had even started to turn blue.

Amaryllis was in the dorm’s bathroom combing her red mess of bed-head out of her eyes, while Cait stood by her side at the sink, slowly brushing their teeth. Hattie, the worst morning person of the team, was blearily attempting to open a can of flash-brewed coffee, still clad in her pajamas and lopsided nightcap. She would have met with more success had she actually been holding the aluminum container upright; instead, she continued to scrabble around the bottom of the can, entirely unaware of the conspicuous lack of a pop-tab in her drowsy state.

Lillian, on the other hand, had already thrown on her outfit and was leaning against the doorframe of the dorm’s entrance by her elbow, lazily tapping her finger to her skull as she waited on her teammates. Before she could badger them again, however, her train of thought was interrupted by three knocks on the door.

“Who could be calling on us THIS early?” Amaryllis asked bemusedly, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

“I’ll have a look.” Lillian said, turning around to open the door.

Her eyes widened when she saw who the visitor was. Standing on the other side of the door was Leonardo Lionheart, the headmaster of Haven Academy. He was in full uniform and appeared wakeful— evidently, he had risen well before LLAC. Seeing him in the mirror, Cait and Amaryllis stopped their personal ministrations and turned around.

Hattie, unaware in her morning delirium, continued to hopelessly fiddle with the can.

“Oh! And just where might you be preparing to go, Miss Armilde?” he inquired in a pleasant tone, his lion tail gently swaying from side to side. “The breakfast hall won’t open until an hour from now.” 

“Uh… Uhm…” Lillian hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Admittedly, while she knew that they would have had to meet soon regarding the assignment, she was quite surprised that he had come down to speak to them personally. She had assumed he would have sooner called LLAC to his own office.

Lionheart gently chortled. “A rhetorical question, Miss Armilde.  I’m already well aware where you’re going.” The headmaster tilted his head, glancing over Lillian’s shoulder through the doorway. “May I come in for a moment?”

“Gllmmbbhhllbb.” Cait attempted to reply from across the room, but their mouth was still full of toothpaste.

“…Please do, Professor.” Lillian said, opening the door wider for him as she stepped to the side.

“Thank you.” Lionheart walked in and gently sat down on the foot of the bed closest to the door. “Good morning, you four. I’m very sorry to drop by so early in the morning. I know you’re supposed to have your rest today, but I was approached yesterday evening by Sardion Sarikaya and Rudyard Millard, and they proposed something to me that concerned you.”

Finally alerted by the headmaster’s distinct voice, Hattie rubbed her eyes as she tried to wake herself. “Th— gghhhh— th’ mrrdrr caze?” she asked, her voice slurred.

“Precisely, Miss Lazuli,” Lionheart continued as he clasped his hands in front of him, resting his elbows on his knees. “You all have been officially recommended to aid in a confidential criminal case that the Mistral Police are handling.” He paused to draw in a long breath, as if contemplating his decision. “Now, I’m not usually the one to let my students go on dangerous missions like this before they graduate, but Sardion and Rudyard made some strong arguments on your behalf— especially so for the latter. And given that, along with his reputation at Haven… well, I have decided to make an exception in this case for your team.”

“You’re saying…?” Lillian asked hopefully.

Lionheart nodded pensively. “I’m here to hear it come from yourselves that you want to undertake this mission. However, before you answer, I will ask you to remember that a large part of a Huntsman’s life is comprised of uncertainty. I don’t want to cause you any undue alarm, but there is the chance that you may not come back from this.”

His eyebrows knitted together ever so slightly. “I know that you four are well-regarded here at the Academy, but the world outside the Kingdoms can be unpredictably harsh. Trust is not an easy thing to build, and it is even harder to maintain.”

“Believe me when I say that I speak from experience— Humans and Faunus alike can be just as bad, if not worse, than the Creatures of Grimm.” His expression turned melancholic, and he let out a long breath, as if the statement brought up certain memories best left forgotten.

The four of them fell quiet, unsure of how to respond. It was true that they’d never considered what an official mission would be like— Lillian was the only one with prior experience, having helped Rudyard over the past summer with a Village Security mission, and even that had only been fighting a few low-level Grimm. It was a comfort to know he’d be at their side this time around, but if trained killers were involved…

Lillian was the first of them to speak up, taking it as her duty as a leader to do so. “Headmaster, we’re more than ready to help Detective Yuen—” She began.

Lionheart raised a hand to halt her response. “That may be so, Miss Armilde. But are you prepared?” he asked. “After all, you’ll be graduating next year. Why not just wait to go on a mission like this until then, as qualified Huntresses?” he continued, though not for the sake of argument.

Lillian hesitated for a moment before answering. “…That’s true, Professor. But Rudyard Millard is like a father to me, and I know how much his teammates meant to him. I can’t let this pass me by, and neither can you.” She turned to the rest of her team, who all nodded in affirmation. “Plus… we’re already in our third year, and I doubt we’re going to learn how to handle missions like these any other way. Sure, there’s danger, but we’ve got two of Mistral’s best at our sides. We can do this. Not alone, but as a team.”

Cait puffed their chest out in an exaggerated manner. “And even then, I think our skills speak for ourselves. I’ve seen the odds that those underground Vytal bookies were placing on us, and they were very flattering indeed.” They chimed in, grinning.

Amaryllis gave a curt, confident nod. “Plus, as far as leaders go… well, we could do a whole lot worse, but there’s nobody else I’d rather have than my sister.” She said.

“Yeah!” Hattie exclaimed. “We’ll get to the bottom of this case without dying for our country!”

Chuckling gently, Lionheart felt a small feeling of pride swelling inside him. Lillian was right— with a case like this, would receive training from reality, not just from the academy textbook that described a Huntsman’s life.

In a way, seeing LLAC prepare stirred up vague recollections of SYBR, back in the halcyon days when he had served as Haven faculty, long before taking up the role of headmaster.

Before…

He recognized he hadn’t responded to her. “Ah, good answer, Miss Armilde. And fine spirit, you four.” He said, standing up from the foot of the bed. “Now, I suggest you all eat your fill when the cafeteria opens. You’ll need it for today.”

“Thank you for letting us go, Professor Lionheart.” Lillian remarked.

The headmaster reciprocated with a smile. “I wish you good fortune, Miss Armilde. Make Haven proud.” Lionheart waved goodbye before heading back down the hall.

Lillian gave a wave back, before seeing him out and beginning to close the door. Just as she had her hand on the doorknob, however, something caught the corner of her eye and she looked out once more to see Lionheart.

From what she could see as he turned the bend in the hall, his head was bent in sorrow, and his expression was falling.

She quietly assumed it was related to the news of SYBR, and gently closed the door.

***

After spending a full night in her office, Detective Yuen had finally finished the corkboard full of the potential clues related to the killings of Yaara Dailan and Berilo Gaspar. Red yarns adorned the board as they hung onto pins and thumbtacks of varying colors; connecting each point but hardly bringing forth a clear answer.

Yuen was good at her job— damn good, in her own opinion, but she’d never encountered a case quite like this. She was used to her cases unfolding themselves with questions and answers through investigation, but there wasn’t a single witness to question nor an item out of place at either scene. Plenty of questions, no answers whatsoever.

She was about to take a sip of her third coffee for the day when Sardion opened the door and made his way inside.

“Detective. Good morning.” he greeted.

Yuen quickly began to fix her uniform and hair before greeting him, in a haphazard attempt at professionalism. “Uh, good morning, Sir Sarikaya. Sorry about the mess, I’ve been working on the board.”

“S’ fine.” He replied. “Are you okay? If you didn’t get enough sleep last night, it might affect your day.” Sardion worried.

“Fine and dandy, Sir, thank you for asking. I managed to get a bit of sleep last night.” What she chose not to mention was that ‘a bit’ was little more than a half-hour power nap. Nevertheless, it was all she felt she needed for the day ahead.

“Have you made any advances in the case since yesterday?” inquired Sardion. While he was better off than Yuen, he hadn’t had much sleep either. He had lain awake, with the terrible thought of how his friends died echoing in his head. Yet he had not succumbed to despair— he could grieve later. Here and now, he had to be a leader to Rudyard and LLAC both.

“So far, not so much. I got a call last night from the coroner’s lab— the autopsy results came back. They confirmed the burn marks on Yaara were from some sort of unrecognized chemical, they said a ‘caustic peptide’. On the other hand, Berilo only had the slash wound, no burns.”

Yuen tapped a group of several photographs on the corkboard— closeups of the wounds the two had suffered. Sardion felt his breath hitch as he brought himself to look at the photos; it was horrible to imagine it, but seeing what had killed his teammates was ten times worse.

“What I find unusual about it is how anyone could enter Yaara’s home. All the possible entryways were closed, no signs of forced entry or tampering. There weren’t any fingerprints inside or outside the house except for her own.” Yuen continued.

 “How about Berilo?” Sardion asked.

“His case was a forced entry. Whoever did it kicked the door right off its hinges, so they must have reached him quickly, since he was in the living room. We found a few bits of dirt that must’ve come from the killer’s footwear, but no prints.”

Sardion kept his hand rested on his chin, looking closely at other pictures of the crime scene. He didn’t see anything unusual either, but he knew that was only the case in the pictures. It would be a lot different when he got there.

The sound of the office door opening took his attention off the corkboard— Rudyard had just arrived. Sardion noticed that the man looked more like his usual self; the initial anger and pain appeared to have faded from his eyes.

“Hey, Rudyard… uh, feeling any better?” Sardion spoke cautiously, unsure how his teammate would respond.

The Huntsman nodded. “A bit. I had some time to process my thoughts after we spoke to Lionheart.” Slowly shifting into a chair beside Sardion, he continued, “I’m sorry that I acted the way I did yesterday. Right now, all that matters is justice for our teammates.”

Sardion gave him a soft clap on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Rudd. I wasn’t far from doing the same myself.” Turning back to Yuen, he asked, “Can you continue with the plan, Detective?”

Yuen nodded. “Well, as I was saying, there were new reports given to me by the autopsy lab. If you would look at the board I made over there, there are pictures of Yaara’s burn marks and the bloodstain analysis from Berilo’s home.” she said, pointing Rudyard to the corkboard where Sardion was looking.

“For now, we should go to the two crime scenes and give them a once-over. Maybe we’ll see something that the first investigators didn’t. The kids can take Berilo’s house, we’ll look over Yaara’s.” she continued. “We’ll be heading out in a few minutes. I just have to finish up some reports. You gentlemen can grab some food from the canteen downstairs. Also, aren’t we waiting for your proteges, Sir Rudyard?”

The mere mention of the word ‘proteges’ triggered Rudyard’s mind to go back to what had happened yesterday. He felt ashamed at his rash decision-making, spurred on in an irrational, emotional moment.

What the hell was I thinking, roping them into this so abruptly? He thought to himself

“Actually, it’s just—ah, never mind. They’ll be here soon. We talked to Lionheart last night, and he said he’d catch them before they left.” answered Rudyard.

It was too late to change his mind now, as he knew how much Lillian looked up to him, and that was enough to know that she wasn’t going to accept another change of plans.

He’d have to make it up to her for this— to the lot of them, really.

[myherowritings]

One Hell of a Knockout

Overview: Boxer AU. Bakugou is a young pro boxer climbing his way to the top of the charts. One day, his friends Kirishima and Ashido invite you to a match. Unbeknownst to you, you end up accidentally distracting Katsuki during a fight and he gets a punch landed on his face.

Pairing: Boxer!Bakugou Katsuki x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,864

Warning(s): Lots of swearing.

Author’s Note: Thank you whoever requested this! I had so much fun writing this. I need some more Boxer!Bakugou in my life… Enjoy! :)

The crowd roared when he threw the final punch, adrenaline rushing through his body as felt the impact beneath his hand, watching his opponent fall to the ground. Sweat ran down the sides of his temples, stinging the gash on his high point of his cheek bone. But Bakugou’s head was too filled with the lingering buzz of epinephrine to notice.

Another match won and another night left of having to fend off annoying paparazzi.

He loved the way fighting felt, and he’d by lying if he said he didn’t get a thrill from all the attention he received. But he hated the endless interviews and the attitude his publicist forced him to adopt during them.

The only thing Bakugou was remotely looking forward to was seeing his old friends Kirishima and Ashido who came to watch his match today.

“Bakugou! Good work out there,” his coach, Yagi Toshinori, complimented when he stepped out of the rink. He we a former boxing legend who had to quit early because of the toll it took on his body. Yagi gave him a pat on the back before nodding to his cheek. “But what happened here? You lost focus during the last round, kid.”

Because of those loud fuckers he called his friend, Bakugou thought crossly.

During a high intensity, low noise part of the match, he heard Kirishima’s big ass mouth yell his name out just like he had in high school. And Ashido was cheering along, her bright hair waving around as she jumped like a fool. Some things never changed.

But that’s not what kept his attention.

It was someone who stood in between Kiri and Mina that caught his gaze. You had your hair pushed out of your face as you cheered, skin glistening from the heat that came from the audience stands. Bakugou was entranced when a droplet of sweat rolled off your jaw and onto your--

He shook his head.

“It was nothing,” said Bakugou gruffly, taking a towel and drying his face and neck with it. “That was my mistake, but it won’t happen again.”

“That’s good to hear,” Yagi replied brightly, leading Bakugou to a group of interviewers. “I’m holding you to that, Bakugou. Now, the sooner you finish these interviews, the sooner you can shower. I’ll show your friends to your dressing room.”

He nodded, setting his jaw as he recalled all the words he was supposed to sensor in front of the press. “Thanks. I’ll be quick.”

One by one, Bakugou answered all of their questions. (“How do you feel?” Good. “What are you going to do after?” Shower. And his personal favorite, “Do you have a special someone in your life?” For the millionth time, no.)

So used to the routine, he dozed off answering banal questions with mundane answers, getting frustrated when he found his mind wandering to thoughts of you-- How your hair bounced around  your face lit up when you cheered. What the fuck?

Bakugou groaned, cutting his interviews short and booking it to the showers. When he finished, he dried himself off and put a pair of loose shorts he had lying around on.

As he entered his private dressing room, Kirishima was the first to greet him.

“Bakugou!” Kirishima greeted, bouncing over to him with you and Ashido in tow. “Bro, you killed it out there.”

“It was okay.” He huffed as his friend gave him a hug but made no move to shrug him off. “Where’s Ashido?”

“She went to the bathroom with our friend. They should be back soon.”

Their friend, huh? Bakugou folded his arms across his chest.

“Was that the girl?”

Kirishima tilted his head in confusion before giving Katsuki a knowing look.

“Why? You into her?”

“Shut up, Shitty Hair. I was only wondering.”

Kirishima grinned. “She’s a friend from college. Name’s Y/L/N Y/N. Ashido and I haven’t seen her in a while and she was in the area, so we asked if she wanted to come. I’m sure you’ll love her, bro.”

Bakugou grunted. “Whatever.”

As the two of them continued to catch up, Katsuki heard his door open. He made eye contact with you as you walked in with Mina. As he was about to greet the two of them, he felt a nudge on his ribs.

“You might want to put a shirt on, man,” Kirishima whispered, elbowing him. “It’s getting cold and no one wants to see you start nipping.”

“Fuck off, bastard!” he replied crossly. “People would pay to see that.”

Kirishima snickered. “That’s something to be proud of.”

The men shoved each other around before Bakugou rolled his eyes, shrugging on a sleeveless black hoodie.

As he raised his arms above his head, he felt your gaze follow the exposed areas of his toned abdomen. Bakugou met your stare with a raise of his brow, flexing his arms slightly.

When he saw the color flood your cheeks, he smirked to himself. Cute.

“What the fuck, bro?”

He glared at Kirishima, confused. “What?”

“That’s the stupidest fucking sweater I’ve ever seen. I mean-- Where are the sleeves? What’s the point of wearing that--?”

“Shut your fucking mouth--!”

You started laughing. It was a sweet, resonant sound that made him lose track of his words.

Bakugou shut up.

Kirishima suppressed his chortle.

“Is this the greeting I get after not seeing you for almost six months, Katsuki?” Ashido asked dramatically, waving her hand to make her presence known. “Is this what I, one of your closest friends, deserve after years of--?”

“Hi, Ashido,” he interrupted, ruffling her pink hair. “Your dark circles don’t look as bad today.”

She gasped, gently touching her face. “Dark circles?” Mina glared at him, her eyes narrowing into slits. “They don’t look half as bad as your butt fucking ugly sleeveless hoodie, that’s for sure.”

“Why the fuck--!?”

“I think it looks kind of cute,” you interrupted with a giggle.

They turned to you.

Ashido hummed. Kirishima smirked. Bakugou-- He didn’t know what to do.

“Hear that Bakubro? Y/N thinks it’s cute.”

You flushed and Katsuki whacked his friend on the back of his head.

“Shut up, hair-for-brains,” he retorted. Then, he turned to you. Your hair was still tied up, loose strands framing your face in a way that made Bakugou want to curl it around his finger--

What the actual hell? he snapped to himself. Did the punch to the face make him lose some brain cells?

“This is our friend Y/N,” Mina introduced as she and Eijirou exchanged surreptitious glances. “Y/N, this is Bakugou.”

“Hi,” you said with a grin, reaching out to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’ve never watched a boxing match live before and you were so amazing! That final blow you landed caused one hell of a knockout.”

You’re one hell of a knockout, he almost blurted.

“Thanks,” Katsuki said, shrugging your compliment off. For someone who liked attention so much, Bakugou fucking sucked at receiving compliments. “I...It’s good you liked watching it.”

You smiled.

“So, Katsuki. Y/N,” Kirishima said with a cough, turning the attention to himself. “Ashido and I forgot we only had dinner reservations for two.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and Bakugou’s left eye twitched.

“But you told me you called ahead for reservations for four--” you began.

“I lied!”

You blinked.

Katsuki felt his temple throb at the thought of his two idiot friends. What the fuck were they planning?

“We’ll totally make dinner plans for tomorrow!” Mina promised, grinning mischievously at Bakugou. “But for tonight, I’m getting so sleepy.” She fake yawned. “Bird Brain looks tired, too.”

“What the fuck, Ashido?” Kirishima muttered. “Bird Brain--?”

She glared at him and he shut up. “It would be a shame to let the reservation go to waste. But Eijirou and I are just so tired.”

You and Bakugou looked at each other in way that said neither of you were buying it.

Still, Kirishima clapped his hands together as if he had a brilliant idea. “I know! We can just go back to the hotel, and Y/N and Katsuki can go to the restaurant together!”

Bakugou saw you progressively getting more flustered and he felt his own face heating up as well. Those fucking idiots.

“Bakugou even said he’ll pay for it,” Ashido said with a beam. She stared him down through gritted teeth. “Right, Katsuki?”

“I-- What the fuck? I mean, yes, I’ll pay for her, but--”

He tried not to pay attention to how you shyly looked away, toying with a strand of your hair as bit your lip to stop the annoyingly cute smile from spreading on your face.

“You hear that, Y/N?” Kirishima cheered. “It’s a date.”

“We’ll call you tomorrow,” Ashio said as they began to walk out of his room. “The reservation is in an hour! We’ll text you the address. In the meanwhile, I’d change into something nicer.”

Eijirou winked and Mina gave two thumbs up before letting the door shut.

The two of you stared at each other open mouthed for one beat. Two beats.

Your shoulders started shaking in laughter as you pressed your hand against your stomach, wiping a tear away. Bakugou couldn’t help but let out an incredulous snicker of his own.

“What the fuck just happened?” fumed Katsuki.

“I think we just got set up,” you replied, a smile on yourself despite the flushed appearance on your cheeks.

“That was the least subtle way these fuckers could’ve done it,” he huffed. But he was nowhere near as annoyed as he sounded. In fact, Bakugou wasn’t really mad at all. “But, they did get a reservation.”

You nodded. “They did.”

“It’d be stupid to let it go to waste.”

What the was he saying? If they didn’t show, the restaurant would gladly replace them and the group could make another for tomorrow. There was no fucking waste.

But Bakugou couldn’t help himself.

“That would be a shame,” you agreed. Peering up at him through your lashes, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Maybe we should go? You don’t have to actually pay for me--”

“I will.” He turned red at your shocked expression, folding his arms across his chest. “It’s no big deal, or whatever.”

“Right,” you said. But you were grinning.

Katsuki decided he didn’t mind that smile on your face.

After the two of you changed into more appropriate clothing--to which you teased him about the loss of his sleeveless hoodie--you made it to the restaurant with only a minute to spare.

“The reservation is under the name Kirishima,” Bakugou told the worker once they entered the establishment.

Nodding, the worker looked through the names until he landed on Kirishima’s.

“Kirishima, party of four? Right this way, please.”

“Party of four?” you asked under your breath, eyes wide as you placed your hand on Bakugou’s bicep.

He tried his hardest not to flex.

Bakugou swore. “Those fucking idiots.”

But when Katsuki heard your laugh, he realized he wasn’t all that upset. In fact, he was rather glad he could be here with just you.

Even the punch to the cheekbone in the middle of a match was worth it.

[kaitycole]

Changes in Attitude (Part 2)

Summary: Jackson lets his mind wonder back to his days in Cordonia.

Word Count: 3178

Pairings: Constantine x Eleanor, Eleanor x Jackson, Jackson x Bianca

Warnings: Mention of s*x, Mention of pregnancy, Mention of violence, Mention of arguing, Mention of alcohol

A/N: In this series/universe, Constantine had -one- social season where he chose Liana and then just had a courtship with Eleanor. 

Song Choice: Fall Apart by Post Malone

Part 13.5 of WP. To catch up read here.

Tag List: @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @bobasheebaby @bascmve01  @burnsoslow  @the-everlasting-dream  @ao719 @sirbeepsalot  @janezillow  @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @kimmiedoo5​  @choices97 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @lodberg @edgiestwinter  @marshmallowsandfire @hopefulmoonobject  @iaminlovewithtrr  @cordonianroyalty  

For the next several weeks, the royal family spent more time together than ever before. Constantine seemed to really mean that he wanted to start over and made it a point to be finished with his daily tasks by dinner. On the nights when he was held up late, he also made up for it the next day. There had even been some days where Constantine allowed the boys to leave tutoring early; Leo immediately went to hang out with Bertrand and Damien but Liam often hung out with his dad. Twice a month, the five of them sat down for game night; making sure to rotate which game they played.

As for Eleanor and Constantine, they had their weekly dessert date, which sometimes was just them sitting and talking; sharing small details about themselves that had gotten skipped over during their brief courtship. The royal couple spent a huge majority of their time out in the courtyard with the children; Eleanor expressed her idea of the courtyard being turned into a garden with a hedge maze.

Over those weeks, the palace grew to see the old King Constantine. The one who believed in love. Some guards swore they heard the king whistling through the halls whereas maids gushed about how the queen turned a shade of scarlet every time the king came by. It was a nice change of pace for everyone in the palace and there were even whispers about the possibility of a new prince or princess.

Even with the new atmosphere, there was one guardsman who wasn’t thrilled at the new attitude of the king. Jackson couldn’t believe how quickly things had changed between El and Constantine as well as her and him. He wants to be happy for her, that she’s getting what she deserves, but his jealousy keeps getting in the way. He thought there was a spark between them during their talk in the courtyard, however it didn’t seem like it now.

Jackson is waiting by the courtyard gate when Eleanor finally heads his way to return inside. Constantine likes her idea to turn the old courtyard into a garden, so she often sat outside sketching different plans.

“Oh, Officer Walker.” She jumps back, not expecting to see him.

“Queen Eleanor,” he bows.

She looks around, “Would you escort me to my study, Officer Walker?” Lately it seems that the queen has more work since Constantine spent more time with her; he asks more of her opinion on diplomatic matters.

“Of course, your majesty.”

They walk in silence, both knowing whatever he wanted to talk about didn’t need extra ears. Her heart starts to thump loudly in her chest, was she nervous? Or ashamed? Maybe it was a mixture of both, whatever it was though, she didn’t like it.

“Thank you, Officer Walker.” She smiles at him, but he keeps looking at the ground.

“El…” He trails off, he knows he’s getting emotional.

She chews on her lip, there was never any intention on hurting him. The atmosphere that surrounds them is similar to one of a break up causing both of their hearts to break.

“Officer Walker…” Her voice breaks, this isn’t something she wants to do, “I think it’s best…”

“No!” He raises his voice to cut her off, “You don’t need to do this.”

“Whatever we thought was there, just isn’t…”

“Stop, El. You’re not thinking straight.”

“It’s best we go back to before.”

“It’s not just your call, El!”

She slams her hands down on the desk, “I’m trying to protect you! Why can’t you understand that?”

“Because I’m the one who swore an oath to protect you, not the other way around.”

“When I lied to the KING about a court rumor, that was my oath of protection. For you and your family.” She turns to face him, anger covering her face.

“I never asked you to lie.”

Tears cloud her vision as she slams her fists into his chest. “He would’ve killed you, Jackson,” she begins to sob, “I couldn’t bare losing you that way.”

He pulls her into him, letting her cry into his chest. Could he ever truly protect her? If Constantine found out she lied, there’d be consequences and Jackson was the reason she had to lie. Maybe she was right about them keeping their distance. Going back Queen Eleanor and Officer Walker.

“Is this all why you’ve been keeping up with the king’s charade?” Jackson had assumed that Eleanor had fell Constantine’s new attitude, but now he thought that he might’ve been wrong. That she was just going through with it to keep him safe.

“His charade? You can’t be serious about that.” She knew Constantine’s behavior flipped drastically, but he has been consistent and that’s what matters most to her. And in her defense, they were both married and she saw nothing wrong with trying to make things work with her husband; the same thing that she thought he should be doing with Bianca.

“He’s just playing you. You’re smart enough to know that.”

“Don’t say that!”

He shakes his head, “It’s true. You just won’t let yourself see it.”

“Why are you being like this Jackson?”

“Or are you just too blind by the possibility of having another child that you choose to ignore the signs?”

“I can’t believe you would say that. Not even because it’s towards the queen, but because you are speaking to me.”

“I can’t believe you are acting so stupid!”

Eleanor raises her hand and strikes it across Jackson’s cheek. Never in her life would she have thought Jackson would speak to her like that. It was no one’s business how she acted to or around her husband, especially not a guardsman.

“Is there an issue here?”

Neither of them had heard the door open or the man step into her study. Immediately she tried to think of how much he could’ve heard, hoping all she worked hard to protect didn’t unravel. He walks further into the room, stepping close to Eleanor’s side; almost in a territorial manner.

  “No issue, just a slight misunderstanding.” Eleanor puts on her diplomatic smile, “Right, Officer Walker?”

  “Right, your highness.”

“What kind of misunderstanding did you have?” Constantine is genuinely curious, up until now he didn’t know his wife and lead guardsman were on such talking terms.

“Officer Walker disagreed with how I handled a guardsman situation,” she pauses before elaborating, “I dismissed my nightly guard leaving, myself in here unguarded. He felt it wasn’t an appropriate call to make.”

“And that warranted a slap? He was simply doing his job which is to make sure you’re protected at all times.”

Eleanor and Jackson share a look. How many times would they hear or say the word “protected”.

“I came off more aggressive than I should have, sir.”

“Regardless, I am extremely sorry for my reaction, Officer Walker.”

“It’s quite alright, Queen Eleanor.” Jackson bows in front of both of them before leaving the study.

“Are you feeling well, love?”

She looks up at him, tears in her eyes, “What?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. You’ve had a few outbursts lately.”

He wasn’t wrong, while the two biggest outbursts she’s had were at the ball and today, lately she has been snappy and short with people. She wasn’t sure at all where this irritability was coming from.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just stress.”

Constantine’s face drops, immediately feeling he was to blame. Before now, he made sure to handle most of the royal affairs but he wanted to share that with Ellie now. He no longer wanted to hole up in his office when he could spend some of that time with her and finish sooner to spend time with his family. He always had trust towards her, if he hadn’t they wouldn’t be married. But now he allowed matters involving budgets and local disputes to land on her desk as well. Though now, he felt he was causing her more harm than he intended.

“Forgive me,” he drops to a knee, grabbing her hands, “This is all my fault.”

“I’m fine, I swear it.”

He doesn’t stand up, instead she watches him crumble. A few tears fall from his eyes, him truly taking all the blame onto himself. Feelings as though these few added tasks had been taking a huge toll on her.

“I should’ve asked if you could handle those tasks, if you even wanted them.” He sniffs his nose before wiping his cheek, “I put more on your plate than a husband should.”

She tugs on his hands so that he stands up and she wraps her arms around his waist. His head hangs down next to hers; he whispers ‘I’m sorry’ over and over into her ear.

“Connie, it’s not your fault.” She unwraps her arms and lifts his head up so she can meet his eyes, “If I felt I couldn’t do those things, I would’ve told you.”

His face turns red, feeling completely embarrassed. Not only did he fall apart in front of her, but he implied she wasn’t strong. He’s slightly startled when she gently wipes his cheeks before smiling at him. “I don’t deserve your kindness, I was awful to you for years.”

“Everyone deserves a second chance, sweetheart.”

He leans into her and presses his lips to hers. While the couple has been more intimate than usual, the most they’ve done is hold hands, hug and a few kisses on the cheeks. Other than that, the two haven’t shared an actual kiss in some time. For a second, he thought he overstepped, hoping the display wasn’t awkward for her. All those thoughts vanish when Eleanor grabs the lapel of his suit and deepens their kiss. To increase his surprise, she pushes her tongue between his lips. He wraps his arms around her waist as she deepens the kiss even further.

The couple pulls apart, breathlessly. Being intimate hadn’t crossed his mind in weeks, but after that heated kiss, it was the only thing on it. He didn’t want to bring it up though, afraid of pushing things too far.

She looks up at him and bites her lip, knowing exactly what he’s thinking by the look he’s giving her. Walking over, she shoves a stack of paper off her desk.

“Ellie!”

“You said I have too much on my plate.” She winks before letting out a squeal as he picks her up.

“I admire the creativity, but I’d prefer a different venue.” He walks out of her study; carrying her over his shoulder.

She huffs loudly enough for him to hear her.

“Next time, my love.”

She lets out a giggle as she tries to cover her bright red face. She may feel lonely in the palace, but the amount of guards posted around it didn’t actually allow her to be alone.

Constantine clears his throat as they approach their sleeping quarters, “You are both dismissed for the evening.”

“Yes sir.”

“Didn’t I just get told not to dismiss guards?” She playfully crosses her arms and makes an angry face.

“Yes, but you were alone.” He kicks off his dress shoes before wrapping his arms around her waist, “I’d like to make love to my wife without prying ears.”

Blushing, she begins walking backwards, pulling him down with her onto the bed.

*          *

When Jackson leaves the study, he doesn’t immediately go home. While it seems that Eleanor could easily switch off her feelings for him, the same couldn’t be said for him. He loves her and he meant that. Constantine didn’t deserve her, his treatment recently might’ve changed, but Jackson knew he’d go back to his old ways before long.

He constantly thinks back to their secret meet-ups, their exchanged glances, the kiss before the ball, the way she felt when he held her at the ball and he couldn’t allow himself to think it was all in his head. There’s no way it was all one-sided, right?

Shaking his head, he walks to the pier at the edge of his property. He used to come here when he needed to unwind from work, but nowadays he’s here every night. Hoping that maybe El will come back like she did before; the night she told him she shared his feelings. Tossing a rock into the water, it plops as soon as it hits the surface. His mind is completely wrapped up his thoughts about Eleanor that he doesn’t hear the person coming up behind him.

“Jack?”

Startled, he turns around and sees his wife looking at him intently. He doesn’t say anything, to be honest he isn’t sure he could form a sentence if he tried.

“Is everything okay?”

“Why do you ask?”

She looks at him with a puzzled expression, “Well, for one you stay at here all hours of the night and then when you finally come home, you drink until you pass out on the couch. The kids never see you; you’re gone before they wake up and they’re asleep when you come home.”

“Guess I’m just a shitty parent, huh?”

“I didn’t say that, but they miss you, Jackson. Drake really wants to see his father.”

He shakes his head, irritated. He’s irritated with El, himself, Bianca, just everything and everyone. The whole reason they moved here was so he could give his family a good life, yet that same job was taking his family away.

“I’m just stressed, I’m sorry.”

She gives him a small smile before she sits down next to him. “I know I don’t understand everything about your job, but maybe you could take some time off. The kids would love seeing you for a few days.”

He lets out a deep breath when she feels Bianca rest her head on his shoulder. She’s right, he did need to see his children more and maybe a few days away from the palace would do him some good. If Eleanor wants to repair her marriage and ignore her feelings, there was nothing stopping him from doing the same.

“I’ll speak to the king tomorrow. Let’s head inside.”

As they open the cabin door, they see two little brunette children attempt to run and hide. It was close to 1AM, far past both of their bedtimes.

“Drake Thomas and Savannah Jane!”

They both stop and look at each other; immediately they begin to blame the other for getting caught.

“That’s enough, what are you doing out of bed?”

Savannah looks at Drake who tries to hide a nod before she puts on her best puppy dog eyed look, “We miss Daddy.” She even pokes her bottom lip out for added flare. Bianca looks at her daughter, unimpressed since she sees it daily, but it melts Jackson and he becomes putty in their hands. Just as they planned. Bianca shakes her head at her husband who is now squatting down in front of them.

“I miss you, Vannah. And you too, Drake.” He wraps them both into a hug, he smiles when he feels them wrap their arms back around him.

“Alright you two schemers, let’s get back to bed.”

“But Mom!” Drake protests.

“That’s enough of that, son. If you go to bed now, you can skill tutoring tomorrow. Both of you.”

“Jack…”

“Because Dad is staying home all day.”

The kids squeeze him tighter before jumping up and down. After goodnight kisses and hugs, the two trot off down the hall back into their rooms.

*          *

The return to work feels weird for Jackson. Two weeks away makes him feel as if it’s first day on the job. He’s resumed his everyday tasks, though he is surprised to learn Bastien was the one who temporarily replaced him. Timothy caught him up on everything and Jackson was a tad shocked when he learned he wasn’t asked back early even though the royal family took a trip to Fydelia.

“How was the vacation?”

“Surprisingly relaxing. It was nice to spend time with the kids.”

“And Bianca?” Timothy nudges his shoulder causing Jackson to chuckle, shaking his head,

“We really need to get you someone.” Jackson jokes.

“Oh c’mon, you seem to be in a hell of a better mood that the last few months.”

“There was some adult time,” he laughs, “But after all day with the kids, I was exhausted most days. I don’t know how she does it every day.”

Their conversation is interrupted by laughter and squealing. Jackson looks to Timothy who seems completely unfazed much to his surprise.

“You’ll see.” Timothy laughs as they continue walking. Soon they are watching the scene and Jackson isn’t what to think.

Queen Eleanor has a huge smile on her face as she tries to catch her breath from laughing and running. He assumes that she’s playing with Liam but does a double take when he realizes that it’s Constantine. Constantine scoops her up and twirls her around as she bursts into a fit of giggles. With her still in his arms, he backs into a wall and kisses her while she wraps her arms around his neck.

“I thought you said nothing strange happens while I was gone?” Jackson wants to looks away, but he can’t.

“They’ve been like this for weeks.” Timothy lowers his voice, “And based off how many times he’s excused the guards for the two of them to have privacy, I’d say we’re looking at welcoming another heir soon.”

It felt as if someone had just punched him in the stomach and he takes a step back. He assumed that over those two weeks without seeing her that he was over her, but clearly the saying was true: you weren’t truly over someone until you could see them and not feel anything.

“I really should go look at ,” she interrupts him with a kiss, “the proposal for the new treaty.”

“Another stuffy treaty. Can’t it wait?” She pouts.

“I wish, my love. I’ll be all yours tonight.” He kisses her on the forehead before untangling himself from her. He waves as he walks back towards his office and she watches him until he’s inside.

Letting out a sigh, she begins walking back towards where Timothy and Jackson have been standing.

“Your Highness.” Timothy bows.

She lets out a gasp, clearly not expecting anyone to be in the grand hall. Her face begins to burn, thinking about how much they could’ve seen.

“We just walked down here. Only stopped to address you, ma’am.” He elbows Jackson, “Right Walker?”

“Oh…uh…uhm…yes.” He stumbles over his words, immediately telling Eleanor they had seen the whole display. Part of him wishes he could’ve lied better to protect her feelings, but the other part of him is glad he couldn’t. He wants her to feel the way he does, the aching feeling in his chest.

She clears her throat, “Well, I should get going.” She starts to leave before stopping, “I hope you enjoyed your time off, Officer Walker. The palace wasn’t the same without you.”

[dutten-does-the-fanfic]

Beat that Record pt. 4

Title: “Beat that Record pt. 4″ (pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3) Pairing: Isak Valtersen/Even Bech Næsheim Word count: 22.057 Warnings: Explicit content, language, references to internalized homophobia

Notes:

me: *uploads pt 3 literal years ago* That is it! It is done! Enjoy! you guys: could you do a part where they beat the record? me: no also me: y e s

AO3

Isak is smart, okay. He knows that Even likes to joke that he’s a genius, but he’s got the grades, the inquisitive mind, and the ambition to show that he’s not really all that far off.

Being as smart as Isak is, he really should’ve figured it out, or at least figured it out a lot sooner than he actually does.

He should’ve known it would become a thing.

It starts – well. How it starts is quite well-known at this point. It’s how it continues Isak should’ve been paying attention to.

First it’s Jonas with the help of Magnus planting the thought in Even’s head that he can’t make Isak come untouched way too many times. Then Isak breaks up what very well could’ve been the next ‘moment’ like that when the boys came over to pregame.

And he’d really actually thought that was the end of that.

Isak is a goddamn idiot. An oblivious idiot. And hindsight is 20/20, after all, and it’s a lot easier to realize when Isak isn’t in the middle of having very great sex.

The next time it happens, Isak realizes now that he’s aware of its thingness, is at some house party the boys dragged Isak to, which means Isak dragged Even along so he wouldn’t have to suffer alone, and when the boys inevitably find someone to hook up with for the night he can just kiss Even. Win-win for everyone.

True enough, Jonas is the first one to abandon them, so Magnus is entertaining them by reenacting how fast Jonas moved when he found out Mia was at the party. Even’s laughing the most out of all of them. The vibrations of it feel nice against Isak’s back where he’s leaning up against Even’s chest, fingers curled in a loose hold around the arm Even has wrapped around his front.

Mahdi points out that not even Isak and Even were as desperate to get each other off as Jonas apparently had been. Isak punches Mahdi in the shoulder, his protests going unheard under all of their booming laughter.

He doesn’t mind too much, he finds, but still keeps up the pretense by scowling at all of them until Even has pressed half a dozen kisses to his cheek and promises that next party, they won’t even bother showing up because they’ll have started with each other so early they don’t make it out the door.

It’s enough of a promise to mollify Isak as Mahdi starts perusing over his options from the corner they’re in and Magnus bemoans how Vilde has an early workout session and also didn’t want to go to a party without the girls. Bringing Even had been a brilliant idea, Isak thinks, tilting his head back and stretching his neck out tantalizingly, knowing Even won’t be able to resist.

Predictably, Even presses his lips against his neck, just lightly moving his lips over the skin in a way more teasing manner than Isak had hoped for. He’s just about to see if Even wants to make something more out of it when Jonas comes bounding down the stairs and heads over to them straightaway.

His hair is tussled beyond compare, his lips puffy and his eyes a little sex crazy. There’s nothing subtle about him, and Isak can’t help but roll his eyes at him.

Jonas doesn’t even have the gall to be embarrassed about it, just flashes them all an obnoxious grin when Mahdi hoots and Magnus makes choked up laughing noises.

“Back already?” Even teases, presses another kiss to Isak’s neck before hooking his chin over his shoulder. It’ll do his back in if he keeps at it for too long, but Isak likes the feel of it so he lets him stay like that for now. “Don’t tell me that’s all the stamina you have.”

Jonas rolls his eyes good-naturedly. Isak almost expects him to stick his tongue out at Even because they’re both children, but he thankfully doesn’t.

Isak can tell Even is amused, though. Maybe he’d been thinking the same thing.

Jonas waggles his eyebrows instead. “Gave her a taste of what’s to come.”

Magnus wrinkles his nose. “You blue-ballsed her? Or – well – whatever the equivalent is – what is – what’s it called when you do that to a girl –“ turning towards Even until Isak’s glare makes him wrinkle his nose again.

“Nah,” Jonas shakes his head. “I gave her incentive to come home with me,” wiggling his goddamn eyebrows again.

Isak barks out a laugh that only intensifies when Even proceeds to wolf-whistle lowly and at the sight of Magnus still not getting it.

Jonas rolls his eyes. “I made her come and then told her all the times I’d make her come again if she comes home with me.”

“And just how many would that –“ Even grunts when Isak’s elbow firmly cuts him off.

Luckily, before Jonas can retaliate and Isak’s ass will take the brunt of it later, Magnus draws all of their attentions with an amazed noise. His eyes are as wide as saucers.

“Fuck’s sake, you’ve been gone for less than seven minutes!” Mahdi protests in sheer outrage. Isak bites down on his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“6 minutes and 24 seconds, to be precise,” Jonas grins cockily, waggling his eyebrows and dancing out of the way from the shove Mahdi tries to give him.

Isak isn’t interested enough to know if that’s impressive. He’s definitely made Even come in less than that, but he doubts the boys will think it’s the same. What he is interested in is making as much fun of Jonas as he can before Jonas makes his goodbyes and heads home with Mia under his arm.

What he should’ve been interested in was how glossy Even’s eyes had gotten, the same way as when he’s come up with a big project that he just has to start working on immediately. What he should’ve paid attention to was how important it had apparently been to sneak away to a bedroom right before they leave, Even sinking to his knees, his mouth touching only the tip of Isak’s dick, his fingers tapping impatiently against his hole, not pressing in because neither of them had the foresight to bring lube.

When Isak looks back at that night now, it really is quite obvious what had been going on. But Isak had been wearing his pink panties that he knows how much Even loves when paired with the grey sweater he got for him, which, coincidentally, Isak had also been wearing despite how the weather was technically getting a bit too hot for sweaters.

Even had obviously known about Isak choosing to wear the sweater out, but he’d only gotten a peak of the lingerie right before they’d met up with the boys. Even having Isak lean back against his chest pretty much the entire night was both to hide the half-chub he’d been sporting ever since, and to intermittently press his hips forward, grinding softly into Isak just to remind him of what was to come.

And the fact that what came to be got split up in two parts because, for some reason, Even just had to get Isak off in less than 6 minutes and 24 seconds, just hadn’t registered in Isak’s mind.

It hadn’t been obvious at the time – probably mainly because Isak’s legs were shaking too badly from coming so quickly, but also because Even had at least had enough class to not bring out a stopwatch and time just how quick they’d been, which Isak figures probably would’ve been the way he would’ve noticed over his brain shutting down temporarily. Isak didn’t notice at the time.

He also doesn’t notice it the next time it happens.

Or the next time again.

Or the one after that.

Doesn’t make the connection between Jonas talking about getting a girl off with his mouth with less than 15 strokes of his tongue and then Even eating him out that night.

Even wins with two broad strokes, four kitten-like licks, and one so deep Isak hadn’t been able to do anything but come, all of them paired with a few well-timed phrases that sent Isak’s blood hot and thrumming.

He doesn’t make any of the rather obvious connections that he definitely should’ve made, which is just ironic in hindsight, because one time Isak actually got rather close to calling it out without realizing it.

Being a third year isn’t really all that different from being a second year. Well, unless you’re Vilde, who seems to have an entirely different point of view, but to Isak it’s still just attending school, doing his homework, hanging out with his friends and missing Even terribly now that he’s at university and Isak is still stuck at Nissen.

Whatever, Isak reminds himself as he shuts off his laptop, says bye to Sana and rushes outside. The school year is basically over and then he’ll get to spend the entire summer with Even. Small words of comfort that don’t really help him right now.

The last bell has just rung and Isak is dying to get home already.

It’s just – it’s just that things are so good right now. Isak can’t remember ever having felt so comfortable in his own skin, so secure in his relationship. Even finding out about… about everything hadn’t been the death sentence Isak had feared, and thinking back on it Isak just feels stupid for having been so afraid of Even.

Sweet, beautiful Even whom Isak is in love with, who saved Isak and let Isak save him right back. Who is so good to him that walking out of the front door in the morning doesn’t feel like putting on a second skin more appropriate for what’s expected of Isak, but instead feels like himself.

Isak sees the boys loitering by the benches and changes his direction towards them.

“Halla,” he greets, smiling because he’s in a great fucking mood.

Both Jonas and Mahdi slap their palms against his, grinning back. Magnus, however, when Isak turns around to face him last, does not.

Magnus stares at him in a scrutinizing manner, and Isak would probably be feeling unease with it if it weren’t for how comfortable he is in his own skin, and how little it actually bothers him if someone were to say something mean and demeaning.

It still sends a little kick through his system when Magnus finally musters up the courage and asks, “Are you wearing lip-gloss?”

Isak is in fact wearing lip-gloss. Has been for the entire day, but maybe the shine only reflects in direct sunlight or maybe the boys really are just way too oblivious to have noticed on their own.

It’s probably because of Vilde, Isak thinks, that Magnus has gotten used to noticing the small details so he can give her a compliment whenever she tries something new. Magnus is great like that.

Jonas and Mahdi’s heads snap towards them, the both of them frowning nonplussed as they stare intensely at Isak’s lips.

Isak rolls his eyes at the two of them and doesn’t slow his gait to let them gawk. He has places he needs to be, namely home. With Even.

“You are!” Jonas exclaims, something akin to wonder in his voice that Isak tries not to flush over.

“And you even matched it to your shirt, man,” Magnus points out, because Isak had matched the light pink lip-gloss with the pastel pink t-shirt Even had surprised him with when the weather got too hot for soft sweaters. “What gives?”

“Så kjekk,” Mahdi grins, eyes gentle even as he ribs at him, “Guess Even’s getting his dick sucked.”

Jonas chokes – on the air, on his own spit, Isak doesn’t know, doesn’t care, because he’s too busy fighting off a laugh at Mahdi’s reference and instead fix a scowl at him.

Magnus is just gaping wide-eyed at him, then switching over to Mahdi, and back to Isak.

“Is that it?” he asks. “But I thought it was the red color that – is it really?”

“Is what really?” a voice asks behind them, and Isak knows that voice.

He still whirls around when the other boys do, but whilst they’re gasping at being startled – Jonas still mainly choking, but Isak’s willing to acquiesce to call it a ‘gasp’ because of best-bro status – Isak is already beaming and tilting his head back a bit so Even can kiss him hello.

“Hei!” Isak greets brightly because Even is here, arms around him and body warm against his, lips pecking softly so as to not ruin Isak’s makeup preemptively.

“Halla, baby” he says between pecks, smiling when Magnus can’t help but comment, ‘Oh my god, it’s Even!’

“What are you doing here?” Isak interrupts himself with another peck.

“Finished my shift earlier than expected. Figured I’d come say hello,” Even grins brightly, leaning down once again just because.

Even goes to greet Magnus next, like always with a quick hug and a bright smile, but Magnus must still be too wired from the lip-gloss and possible dick sucking Isak’s supposedly about to commence to not blurt out, “That Isak’s wearing lip-gloss so he can suck your dick?”

Isak does flush at that. God, they’re in public, very much in public on a route Isak has to take five days out of the week.

Even blinks, stunned either at the topic or the bluntness, maybe both considering. Isak almost thinks Even won’t answer, or that he’ll hit Magnus with a mini-lecture about the damaging side-effects of constructing ‘masculine’ norms that he’s been reading about in a pointedly plain view whenever Isak can see the screen of his laptop, that Jonas would probably be all for.

But then Even actually answers, and Isak isn’t even surprised.

“Isak doesn’t have to be wearing lip-gloss to do that, he knows that.”

It’s only made better by Even slinging his arm over Isak’s shoulders and pressing a quick kiss to his temple. Otherwise, Even could’ve definitely said goodbye to any blowjob for the rest of the month, or at least until Isak caved.

Mahdi snorts so hard his eyes water a little. Isak’s mild annoyance at the topic fades a bit with the good-natured experience of having fun with his best friends and man of his dreams.

“But what about the dark red?” Magnus asks again, like that’s something that matters. Isak rolls his eyes, but lets it go when Even squeezes his shoulder. “I thought – I thought the red was the point?”

Another eye roll, another squeeze, but neither of them actually get to say anything before Jonas cuts in.

“Any color will do, Mags,” he teases, reaching over a bit awkwardly so he can puff at him with his elbow. “It’s just easier to see when the color is dark.”

Magnus frowns, goes back to staring at Isak’s lips like he’s never seen anything alike.

He’s definitely seen the frown before, Isak guarantees that.

“See?”

“On your dick,” Mahdi interrupts, having enough decency to lower his goddamn voice. He might be Isak’s new favorite – or second favorite, if Isak includes Even. Even should always be included in Isak’s opinion, but absolutely no one could compare to Even, so maybe it’s not technically fair.

“Has Vilde never done that?” Jonas asks, and Mahdi is definitely Isak’s new favorite.

Magnus shares enough information already, and Isak’s fairly certain he’s also shared intricate details about Vilde’s mouth when he’d asked if Isak had had any tips or moves.

Isak had spent the rest of the lunch period throwing pieces of his raisin bread at Magnus’ face, awarding himself five points every time it made Magnus stop talking, and ten points if he could get Magnus to accidentally catch it with his mouth.

Magnus frowns and goes still, like he’s actually going through every single moment Vilde’s gone down on him, cataloguing each experience in order to remember if there’d ever been any colored smudges visible.

“I don’t know?”

Mahdi snorts again, though not as hard. “Trust me, you’d know. It looks like a damn murder scene happened on your dick whenever they wear red lipstick.”

Even knows better than to laugh. Isak will admit that it’s slightly amusing in this context, but when they’re actually in the moment and he has Even staring down at him like he’ll never witness a sight prettier than the one he’s looking at now, Isak knows that the red smudges left behind on Even and the way the color exceeds the line of his lips is one of Even’s utmost favorite things about Isak going down on him, period.

Jonas, however, doesn’t know better.

“Man, you’ve got it all wrong,” he slaps lightly at Mahdi’s arm. “It’s the best thing ever. You can tell afterwards how far down you could get.”

That Even does snort at. “I think that says more about your size than it does than it does about the other person’s… abilities.”

A+ for not being overtly crude. Isak might reconsider banning blowjobs for the rest of the month if Even keeps this up.

Jonas grins mischievously. He isn’t any longer on the list of Isak’s favorites at all.

“Well, that just makes it even better, doesn’t it?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Jesus Christ,” Isak grumbles. “I swear to god, if either of you whip your dick out for whatever measuring contest this is –“

“Why, Isak,” Even exclaims dramatically, “we’d never!” and presses kiss after kiss against Isak’s cheek until he drops the stink eye he’s giving all of them.

He doesn’t notice the looks the boys share with each other. He doesn’t notice the suspiciously timed make-out session Even initiates when they get home, because – well, Isak’s rather distracted when that happens.

He isn’t even thinking about the stupid conversation when he kisses Even’s jaw, his neck, tugging down at the collar of his t-shirt to get further down his collarbone, his chest. All he thinks about are Even’s groans, how riled up he feels, how much he wants to hear what sounds he can get out of Even with his mouth.

So Isak sinks to his knees, right there by their front door, pressing a single kiss to Even’s naval before he starts working on his belt and jeans and boxers and finally his cock.

“Baby,” Even groans when Isak licks at the tip, pops it into his mouth and hums pleased.

When he draws back, there’s already a light ring of pink as his lip-gloss had gotten smeared from the multiple kisses Even hadn’t been able to resist giving him.

“God, look at you,” Even says, mouth already running rampant as Isak’s tongue joins the game. “Most gorgeous baby in the world. Faen.”

Isak bobs down maybe halfway, tightens his lips and sucks as he pulls back, his tongue pointed so he can slide along Even’s slit.

Even hisses, one hand flying out in reflex and grabs onto Isak’s hair. He doesn’t squeeze, still isn’t too out of it to go that far already, just cards his hands through his curls and grabs a light hold if it.

It’s still enough to make Isak whine, to waver between wanting to press against Even’s hand and wanting to slide down, to let Even fill up his mouth.

He goes with the latter. Relishes in how Even is hot and heavy on his tongue, how he twitches whenever Isak does something particularly pleasing, how he’s able to keep up a steady commentary of how Isak looks, how he feels, how fucking lucky he is to have Isak.

Isak’s eyes flutter shut, and he presses himself down three-quarters of the way, holding Even there right at the border of being inside his throat until he finally pulls back, drawing in a large breath and swallowing heavily.

Even runs his fingers through Isak’s hair again. Isak twists sideways so he can nuzzle against his hand, then shyly peeks up at Even.

Who looks so fucking pleased and happy and in awe and seemingly can’t take his eyes off of Isak. He stops running his fingers through Isak’s hair, holds it there instead and guides Isak back to his cock.

Isak opens his mouth up happily, feels the head slide back inside then followed by the rest of the shaft.

And, again, Isak doesn’t notice. All he notices is the feeling of Even’s hand, big and warm and safe, pressing against the back of his head. Just a nice, soft, even pressure, and Isak slides down, down, down until he’s got all of Even inside him and he can just keep still.

His eyes flutter, his lips press against the soft skin of Even’s pelvis.

When he pulls back, coughing a little wetly as he gets his breath back, despite the light pink it’s still a very noticeable ring of color going smoothly all around the base of Even’s dick.

Looking back, Isak’s fairly certain the only thing Even and Jonas never did was having an actual dick measuring competition, because they’ve seemingly done everything else.

Number of times you can make your partner come. How quickly you can make your partner come, by hand, by mouth, penetration only. How desperate can you get them before they’re begging for release. How long can you keep them right on the edge. It goes on, and on, and on, and on. Isak can’t make it all out in his head, because they’ve clearly been subtle most of the time. It probably could’ve gone on for a long time before Isak started to suspect something.

But Magnus and Mahdi aren’t subtle, and Isak doubts Even and Jonas have gone through as much trouble to keep them from finding out about the thing.

Maybe Jonas and Even haven’t been all that subtle, either, and Isak’s just been oblivious or had his attention redirected – it doesn’t matter. What matters is that it isn’t Even or Jonas who explicitly let him know what’s going on, but Mahdi and Magnus who give it away by a complete accident.

It’s hot out, a proper summer’s day, and they’ve all taken refuge under a line of trees, hoping for the occasional blast of air to cool them down.

Isak’s wearing the pink t-shirt again, the material so soft he wants to squirm with it, and it’s a sure-fire guarantee to keep Even’s hands on him all of the time.

It’s nice – Even is a warm, weight pressed against his back as they lounge on the blanket Jonas borrowed from Eva, lying underneath a big oak tree that brings some shadow from the otherwise scorching sun.

Isak sticks his tongue out at Jonas when he throws some grass at them. As if he wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing if he had a girlfriend with him right now.

Speaking of girls –

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Jonas protests halfheartedly. “If any of us have it easy with getting girls, it’s Issy over there.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” Isak deadpans, sending Jonas a mighty unimpressed look. “You know me, swimming in pussy.”

”Not with your ugly ass,” Mahdi kicks at him gently with his foot.

“Are you kidding?” Magnus yells out indignantly before Even can say anything. “Isak’s a pretty boy. Hands down. Anything else is a lie.”

“My pretty boy,” Even breathes into Isak’s ear, running his mouth gently along the curve of it just to make Isak shiver.

“Are you two seriously sexing it up over there?”

“Look, look, look! Another point to Even!”

Isak blinks. “…What?”

“That!” Magnus keeps pointing at Isak like that means anything. “You! He’s only said, what, a word and you already look completely fucked out!”

“It’s not exactly fair, though,” Mahdi points out, completely ignoring the way Isak is frowning at the two of them now. “Who is Jonas supposed to be making bedroom eyes at, me? You?”

“I’m a taken man, Mahdi, it would have to be you.”

“That wasn’t the point –“

“What?” Isak repeats, only to be ignored once again. It’s only Even’s fingers around his hip that placates him into not yelling louder at them.

“It’s not like it would matter, anyway,” Magnus says totally unhelpfully. “Jonas hasn’t got a chance.”

Jonas makes a disagreeing hum. “I could –“

“I’m telling you,” Magnus takes a swig of his beer, “you can’t beat Evak. You can’t. It’s impossible.”

“Weren’t you the one who said you and Vilde were cuter than them?” Mahdi calls out. Isak can see Magnus’ brain working as he tries to decide which is more important to him; his actual girlfriend or proving a point.

“I was wrong. The absolute wrong-est. Just – look at them, man!” his voice taking on a whine at the end.

Isak groans in misery at Magnus’ pointing. “Fuck off.”

Magnus frowns. “Although, the ‘Ev’ part of ‘Evak’ sure is a lot nicer than the ‘ak’.”

“Fuck. Off.”

“He’s such a grumpy boy,” Mahdi says, bypassing Isak to talk to Even. “You’d think he’d be in a better mood from all your winnings.”

“Alright, that’s it, time out,” Isak holds his hands up in a T. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Jonas snorts. “Isak, honestly –“

“The competition, or whatever you want to call it,” Mahdi says as if he’s indulging Isak by explaining something that has been going on between Even and Jonas. “You know, the sex thing.”

Isak blinks. The sex thing?

The boys are all in high spirits, but whatever expression comes across Isak’s face clearly shows that he is not, in fact, joking right now.

“You know,” Mahdi continues, a lot more hesitant, eyes flittering between Even and Jonas who look just as unsure of the situation. “Jonas brags about doing something with a girl, and then Even does it better with you.”

“I don’t brag –“ but whatever protest Jonas had wanted to make gets cut off by the choked-off noise Isak unwittingly lets out.

“Baby?” Even checks, but Isak can’t even look at him right now.

Magnus stares at him with the widest eyes possible. “You didn’t know?” he asks incredulously, then frowns inquisitively. “How? They haven’t been subtle!”

Mahdi nods in agreement as if, yeah, Jonas and Even have practically been screaming it to the world from a rooftop. “Especially that first time, remember?” he points out.

“What, coming the most times?”

Mahdi shakes his head. “No, the other time, the one at –“

Magnus snaps his fingers at him. “Oh, yeah! The, uh – what was it – coming the quickest, I remember!”

“Although,” Mahdi bobs his head, “should that even count? Getting a guy off in less than five minutes isn’t exactly a feat.“

“Excuse – hva faen –“

“Baby, are you okay?” Even asks him, causing Isak to whirl around so he can look at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks Even, who honest to god looks completely perplexed at Isak.

“I’m sorry,” Even tells him, sounding like he means it. “I don’t exactly bring up Jonas when we’re having sex.”

Isak jabs his elbow in-between Even’s ribs gently. “The rest of the time, then.”

“I’m sorry,” Even repeats, not even mentioning the elbow. He just holds out his hand in case Isak wants or needs it. “I genuinely thought you knew. We haven’t been subtle about it.”

“Isak, unnskyld,” Jonas cuts in. “It was my fault as well, I kept goading him on. Don’t be mad at Even.”

“Oh, I’m plenty mad at the both of you,” Isak points out huffily to his ‘best friend’ and his ‘boyfriend’.

He isn’t, not really. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling as he lies back down next to Even, staring up at the tree branches blocking out the sun and the blue sky. He allows it when Even carefully sweeps his thumb across his elbow, and then uses his left arm, the one furthest away from Even, to grab on to his wrist. He drags it over his stomach, then slides his hand up so they can intertwine their fingers.

“It was just a stupid game, baby,” Even promises, moving his thumb in small circles across the back of Isak’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“No more,” Isak tells him, them, because Jonas was part of this, too.

Even shakes his head in agreement. “I promise.”

“Of course,” Jonas nods, apologizing once again.

Isak nods to himself once. “No more.”

OOOOO

One more, Isak thinks as he finishes his purchase.

The package arrives on the day of Even’s very last exam, which is just the most perfect timing and also very last minute for what Isak has planned out.

Maybe it hasn’t been entirely fair, Isak reasons. After all, Mia hadn’t stayed a constant and learning the body of someone new whilst exciting also meant a lot of work that, not necessarily, was a bad thing, but also was probably a setback for Jonas despite his seemingly thrilling repertoire.

Even already knew all of Isak’s body, probably had every single inch of it catalogued in his mind. He knows every spot, every place to press, press, press until Isak can’t think.

Isak knows all of those spots on Even as well.

Maybe this will make it all a little more fair, Isak reasons. He’s not exactly interested in making Jonas go steady with someone just for the sake of being able to compare him and Even, so a little taste of his own medicine might do Even some good instead.

It’s getting late in the morning by now, the sunlight barely held at bay by their curtains. The room is already light when Isak wakes up before Even, which isn’t a usual occurrence unless something’s wrong. Nothing is wrong right now, though, Isak has just got plans.

Even had finished his last exam of the year the day before and had stayed up a lot longer than normal in order to wind down. Isak had known that would happen, because it’s what happens every time Even has to take an exam, and so he had waited patiently for this day.

Isak twitches excitedly at his plan, at what’s about to go down, pressing his smile into the pillows as he tries to calm down a bit. There are a lot of things he needs to prepare before everything is ready, no use working himself up so soon.

So he stays in bed, just takes a minute to look at Even sleeping. God, he’s so in love with him, so much it sometimes hurts. His face is smoothed out, lips parted slightly and moving with each breath he takes, his hair flopping sporadically either against his face or the pillows. Isak never wants to stop looking at him.

It’s not about revenge, per se, it’s not mean-spirited. Isak isn’t actually mad with Even, he wouldn’t be doing this if that were the case. It’s more about showing Even that he can play too.

He sneaks out from underneath the covers first, carefully pulling himself off of Even to not startle him into waking up. Even lets out a small grunt, twitches worryingly and frowns at Isak’s absence, but he doesn’t wake up. Isak waits with a baited breath for the long seconds it takes for Even’s features to smooth out again and for him to settle down.

The air comes whooshing out of him once he does.

The bed creaks when he gets up – as it always does, as if it’s literally telling him to stay, stay, stay, but Isak’s a man on a mission, so he gets up as slowly as possible, making sure to keep an eye on Even just in case.

Isak gets up, Even doesn’t wake up. All in all, so far a success.

He grabs the lube off of the bedside table, reminds himself he needs to remember to bring it back, and heads into the bathroom. He’d made sure to store the package in the bathroom – in the cupboard behind everything else, because Even hasn’t learned anything of Isak previously hiding stuff from him and still doesn’t check the apartment for any out of place packages – so as to not need to shuffle around right next to where Even’s sleeping and supposed to stay asleep.

Isak wonders if Even is ever as meticulous when he plans out something like this for Isak, but then he realizes probably not. Even is spontaneous at the best of times, but in this particular context Isak figures it’s all a testosterone-driven competition between him and Jonas.

The bathroom light is unforgiving when Isak flips it on. He nearly trips over a stray towel left behind from yesterday before his eyes have adjusted, but saves himself by slamming his hands against the counter.

He holds his breath, tries to listen for any movement coming from the bedroom, his heart loud in his ears making it very difficult.

Nothing.

Isak exhales.

God, no wonder Even relies on spontaneity instead – this is stressful and Isak hasn’t even gotten started.

Right, game plan, what does he need to do. Lube needs to be one of the last things, the one before last as he needs to put the real surprise on after everything else to not mess it up. He’d taken a bath and shaved yesterday so as to minimize the amount of noise he’ll have to make this morning and risk waking Even up before he’s ready, so he’s already soft and smells nice, curls floofed up the way he knows Even loves running his fingers through.

So makeup should probably be first next step. Isak opens the drawer, grabs the light pink lip-gloss, the brown eye-liner, the eye shadow palette and the mascara, foregoing the blush. He won’t need it, he knows, he’ll be pink cheeked enough just by thinking of what Even will look like when he wakes up and processes what is happening.

He traces the outer edge of his eye with a dark nude and then blends it with a lighter color closer to his skin tone as he goes further onto his eyelid. The brush tickles against his skin and it makes lines crinkle from smiling in the corner of his eyes, making blending the colors in a lot more difficult than it needs to be.

Isak takes a deep breath in to keep from smiling and the resumes his work.

He dabs a nearly white color along his tear ducts and the middle of his eyelid. And then has to recreate the entire process on the other eye and try and get it to match. Perfect.

“Faen,” he swears quietly when the edge of the brush reaches out further than he’d intended, leaving a dark smudge on his cheekbones. “Fuck,” he repeats as he struggles to get a wet wipe out, wrapping it around his pointer finger and lightly wiping the powder off.

God, so much effort, Isak complains in his head. Well, not complains, really, because along with all the excess excitement of surprising Even, all of this still feels as thrilling and perfect as it always does, and Isak can’t help but be pleased when he looks at his reflection once he’s dabbed on the last of the eye shadow, just topping it off with the tiniest amount of glitter to really make it stand out.

It looks fucking good.

He traces the pencil along the upper curve of his eye, letting it push out in a small wing to accentuate his features. Then lets the mascara brush slide along his eyelashes with deep, deep blinks to make sure each lash is equally colored in.

The colored tip of the wand glides easily over his lips, leaving behind a light sheen of pink that Isak is careful to distribute evenly. Maybe lip-gloss isn’t the best idea when he’s going to have his lips wrecked for the next hour or so, but he likes the feeling of it and the look of it, and he knows what it does to Even to see him with the color smeared all over his face.

Alright, not bad, he admits to himself. Isak pouts his lips, observing his reflection as he runs his fingers through his hair, making sure to follow the curve of his curls near the ends. Even would definitely be pleased if Isak were to finish here, but he’s got so much more planned and he doesn’t want to stop yet.

Still, it is a bit weird having to lube his fingers up as he stands there, alone in their bathroom, only slightly aroused at the idea of what’s to come.

This isn’t really something he does without Even.

Not as in he feels like he shouldn’t be doing this without Even, not at all. It’s just that when it’s with Even, it’s always so, so good, like, absolutely mind-blowing that he just hasn’t felt a need to do it on his own and therefore never got used to it by himself.

It just – feels a little awkward. The lube is cold, and he’s only vaguely turned on.

He has done this before – not the part where he’s in the bathroom and Even is asleep in their bed and he’s planning the biggest surprise of Even’s entire life, but he has opened himself up so he could surprise Even when he came home. He likes the idea, likes knowing that he’s making himself wet and open for Even.

A thrum of heat rushes through his body at that thought, and then it feels easy enough to slip in a second finger.

Isak muffles a groan by biting down on his wrist. The last thing he wants right now is to accidentally wake Even up now that his dick has decided to be up. He’s put too much work into this already for it to be ruined prematurely.

He makes sure to not curl his fingers despite the temptation, focuses on just spreading them as wide as possible. He takes care to not rush through the process, but he also rushes through the process.

Deep breath in, and then he works in the third finger, making sure to exhale slowly so he doesn’t tense up inadvertently.

It’s not quite the same feeling as when Even does it; his fingers are longer and he somehow always knows how to move them in a way that’ll drive Isak the most insane, but the general motion is familiar, so Isak tries to keep his thoughts on that instead of how cold the tiles feel against his feet by now.

The excess lube pops weirdly when Isak pulls his fingers out. He knows Even would’ve giggled had he heard it, which is apparently enough that Isak’s cheeks feel flushed as he smiles stupidly at the sink.

He grabs the bottle, smears a little extra around his hole and just inside of it to be on the safe side. Then he washes his hands thoroughly and makes sure they’re fully dry before he opens the cupboard door.

He has to crouch down on the floor, the cold now settling into his knee as he tries to dig through the contents to get to the very back where he hid the package.

It’s not all easy – there’s the bottle of shaving cream Even uses, then there’s Isak’s lotion and a spare bottle of lavender body-wash, because Even had joked about it being the literal end of his life if Isak couldn’t get to feel pretty whenever he wanted to. So now, whenever Even does the grocery shopping, he’ll buy two bottles and Isak will tell him he’s a fool, and Even will tell him, ‘a fool in love’ in English and proceed to kiss any complaints Isak has straight out of his mouth.

Drawing the package is more difficult than it had been to reach his hand in; he’s careful not to accidentally have one of the corners of the crinkly bag catch on one of the bottles, causing a domino effect. Not when he is butt-ass naked, lubed up and with his face painted.

He sighs heavily once he’s got it in his lap, and then he spends a couple of seconds just running his fingers over the bag. It’s polyethylene so it just feels like plastic. He can’t feel the garment through it, all he knows is that it’s light, a lot lighter than he for some reason had thought it would be.

The adhesive makes the bag crinkle loudly enough that Isak winces in response. He can never tell if it’s better to rip it all off at once or if he should proceed slowly and methodically, taking care with each movement he makes. He winces as he gets another centimeter open, then tries for five all at once.

At least it’s a small package. It’s only one item he’s purchased, and the material is apparently easily foldable – that, or Isak will have very little to wear, or will at least be wearing something that covers very little.

It’s exciting, no matter what. Isak’s chest feels tight and his heart is pounding. He keeps wanting to laugh, for some reason. Nothing is particularly funny in that regard, but he likes this feeling, being so light like he could float to the ceiling. He can’t wait for when Even wakes up and sees him.

The last two centimeters. He pauses for a few seconds, tries to hear if Even’s moving about. He can’t hear anything through the closed door, though.

The clothing itself is wrapped in another bag, but this one is clear and hasn’t been sealed as firmly as the packaging had been. God, never mind that Isak’s heart is pounding, it feels like it’s stuck in his throat.

He can see the color, can see that it’s so pretty he could actually cry. It’s the lightest pink, just a bit pinker than a nude color, and it’s so goddamn beautiful, and Isak could cry from how well it matches his lip-gloss, honestly.

He nearly doesn’t dare open it. It looks so soft, so delicate, surely he can’t be worthy of touching it, but his fingertips are practically itching to get it in his hands properly.

He works it open even slower than he had the first bag, this time taking great care not for fear of being too loud, but from apprehension of accidentally ruining it before he’s had the chance to wear it.

Isak carefully folds a finger inside, feels the fabric slide against his skin smoothly, like he’s running his hand through a cloud. It’s slightly cold, probably from how light the material is. It’ll probably warm up once his body heat is transferred to it, or when he’s worked up a sweat as he’s sure he’s about to in a minute.

It practically glides out of the bag, the fabric alive and easily malleable, and then Isak is holding it in his hands, is holding it up, folded out and actually there to look and feel and wear.

The body of it is the light, nude pink that always serves to make Isak squirm slightly in his seat. The lace trimming is a lighter, creamy white that Isak had originally feared would make him look pale when he’d seen it on the lingerie website, but now that he’s holding it he can see that that isn’t the case.

It’ll be good – it’ll be perfect.

The lace runs along the waistline, transferring smoothly to the triangle-shaped cups. Isak carefully lets the tip of his finger follow the shape of it, running along the scalloped edge. Even the lace is as soft as the satin-like fabric.

Oh, yes. Isak can definitely play as well.

It almost feels wrong to put it on. Not wrong like everything had felt wrong at first, when Isak had felt wrong, but like it’s so much. Isak had never thought he’d wear something like this, that he’d want to wear something like this, but here he is and he wants.

He almost wants Even to be here, but that’s silly. He doesn’t need to hold his boyfriend’s hand to do this, and he also wants to surprise Even more than he wants someone else to witness this glorious moment.

It still takes a few more minutes before Isak’s worked up the nerve to get up off the floor. His legs feel like they’ve fallen asleep, and he’s colder than he would’ve like to have been.

He slips it on smoothly over his head, likes the way it folds over his body, how it settles along his waist, his hips, how the hem tickles his upper thighs. The chest doesn’t even bulge out oddly from his lack of breasts, just sits a bit loosely. He can see his nipples peeping through the see-through lace, knows immediately that Even is going to love that once he’s gotten over the shock of seeing Isak in a negligee.

God. An actual negligee. Chemise. So goddamn pretty.

Isak feels so goddamn pretty.

The bathroom door clicks open softly, the light pattering of feet tapping against the floor sounding at as Isak sneaks back into the main room.

He feels oddly exposed walking around like this, more so than he would’ve been had he been wearing nothing at all. Hearing Even’s deep breaths is calming, makes him feel like everything is okay and there’s no reason to be psyching himself out, not when everything is going so well.

Even sleeps on his back, too used to settling Isak’s weight on top of his chest to sleep any other way by now.

It had never been intentional on Isak’s part, but right now he’s terribly thankful for his clinginess as it makes what he’s got planned a lot easier than it otherwise would’ve been.

He places the lube onto the bedside table for easy access should they need it. Then he patters over to their dresser, carefully lights one of the matches he’d purposely left out for this.

The candle smells as good as ever, like freshly picked apples. It’s the same kind that Even had gotten him, a new one because they’d used up the old one but had gotten so fond of the smell, of what it meant to them, of what they’d started to associate the scent with.

It works now as well.

Isak watches carefully in anticipation, watches as Even frowns in his sleep, shifts slightly – not so much that he rolls over, just enough that he brings his right arm over his head, his legs spreading slightly. They’ve switched the duvet out for lighter, cooler sheets that are thin enough that Isak can already see the effect as Even’s subconscious registers what is likely about to happen as the scent spreads throughout the room, sees as he goes from half-mast to fuller and fuller.

Even groans in his sleep, shifts slightly again, unintentionally kicking the sheet lower and lower down his hips.

Go time.

Isak barely dares to breathe as he treads closer to the end of the bed. It creaks so loudly when he places his knee onto it, his right one next to Even’s left leg, that he’s certain Even will make an odd grunt and wake himself up.

He stays asleep, so Isak lifts his left knee onto the bed as well, on the outside of Even’s right thing, and then he slowly starts to crawl up, up, up, further and further. His breath hitches when he feels how hard Even already is against his inner thigh, almost praises that the sheet is still – barely – covering him up enough that he wouldn’t be able to accidentally feel the slide of the fabric against his skin. It’s bad enough that it feels torturously good against Isak, Isak does not need for Even to wake up too soon.

But now that Isak is settled with his thighs framing Even’s hips, just above where the sheet covers him up to and where Even is hard and temptingly perfect right underneath where Isak is sitting.

Even makes another sound, this time a lot deeper, his throat trying to figure out how to work after sleeping for so long, but nonetheless more pleased than anything. His eyelashes are fluttering, and this literally could not go any more smoothly than it is right now.

“Baby,” Isak says gently, placing both of his hands on Even’s stomach only to slowly, slowly slide them up towards his chest. “Wake up.”

Even groans again, but he’s shifting more, clearly on the cusp of consciousness. The sheets are wrapped around his thighs by now, and Isak wants so badly it hurts. He can’t remember the last time he was this hard – well, he can, every time, after all.

The hand Even had thrown over his head comes flying toward Isak now, landing heavily on Isak’s knee that Even immediately proceeds to squeeze upon contact. The relieved breath whooshes out of Isak – thank god he hadn’t accidentally caught the chemise and figured it all out in his mostly asleep state when he’d been flopping around.

“It’s morning,” he tries, a little louder this time. His thumb sweeps gently across a freckle. “It’s morning, and I love you.”

A pleased noise is rumbled from Even’s throat, so at least Isak knows he’s more awake than he was a few seconds ago.

“I love you,” the words are barely audible through the gruff of Even’s morning voice, but Isak knows what he’s saying. As if he’d ever be able to not recognize those three little words when they’re coming from Even.

Even cards his hand up Isak’s thigh, humming happily at having Isak in his lap.

“Baby,” he croons sweetly, eyes still shut, fingers trailing up higher and higher until, finally, he touches the soft chemise.

Even frowns. Isak’s heart feels like it’s beating inside his throat, he’s so close, he just needs to wait a few more seconds.

Even trails his thumb along the edge of the negligee, clearly mentally checking over that he does not in fact recognize whatever it is Isak’s wearing before he opens his eyes.

Now, Isak thinks, probably grinning like a lunatic as he raises himself onto his knees and then reaches behind himself to grab Even’s cock, holding it upwards to make the slide down easy and steady.

Isak whines when the head of Even’s dick pops past his rim. Even’s eyes are practically boggling out of his head, his mouth open wide as he stares at Isak incredulously.

“Baby,” he repeats, a lot more breathless and surprised, but still just as sweet. His hands clutch tightly onto Isak’s thighs, probably leaving behind white lines where his nails are scratching at him. “Baby, look at you.”

Isak hums happily as he slides down, down, down, tilting his head back and pushing his chest forward so Even can fully see his outfit.

“God,” Even mutters, hands grabbing onto Isak’s hips through the fabric. “Happy birthday to me.”

Oh god, the actual idiot. Isak can’t tell which is worse – that that is Even’s response to all of Isak’s troubles, or the fact that it actually startles a laugh out of Isak.

It tapers into a moan quickly enough once Isak’s cheeks meet Even’s hips.

“Such a dork,” Isak sounds more breathless than either annoyed or amused in his teasing. He swivels his hips in slow, slow circles, feels how he loosens around Even, how big he feels inside of him.

He makes sure to clench down when he sees Even open his mouth, because he is nothing if not petty. And this is his game tonight, after all.

“Baby,” Even moans in response, hands like vices but relentless enough to let Isak move as he pleases. “What – baby, what is all this?”

Isak hums, raises himself up just an inch only to sink back down again. It punches his breath out of his lungs, because, fuck, that feels good. The slide of it is smooth, and Even definitely feels much better than the three fingers Isak had worked inside of himself earlier in preparation, and he just loves this.

“What do you think it is?” he asks, a little bit because it feels like his brain has been fried, but also because he’s genuinely curious as to what Even would come up with.

“Uh – “ Even hesitates, actually trying to think, but then Isak raises up a bit again and he can see every thought Even has literally fly out of his head. “Summer – shit – exams are over?”

Isak shakes his head, draws up an inch higher and then stays there.

It’s torture, absolute torture, because Isak just wants to sink back down. Him pausing first makes Even think that something is wrong, Isak sees it as his eyes are frantically checking Isak all over before they settle on his face.

He raises an eyebrow in silent question. Isak hopes he looks suave as he grins and tells him, “Next guess.”

“Fuck,” Even groans, head tipping back against the pillows. He tries to push his hips up, but Isak follows the movement and only ends up sliding up another inch from Even’s efforts.

Just guess already, he begs silently, willing his legs to not shake just yet.

“Uh,” Even shakes his head as he tries to think, one hand carding through his hair as if to force his thoughts away from Isak literally on top of him. “I haven’t missed any anniversaries.”

It’s not a guess, so Isak doesn’t slide any further up at the wrong answer.

“You haven’t,” he confirms, just because he’s a nice boyfriend. But he also snorts, because no way would Even be the one to miss anniversaries.

“Okay, okay,” he takes in a deep breath, holds it for a few seconds before letting it out all at once. “I, shit, alright, I – have I said something that made you think about doing this?”

Isak slides up another inch, tries not whine when he has to keep still once again, when he is a little less full than he wants to be.

“Fuck,” Even moans in bemusement, staring up at Isak with wild eyes. “I need a hint, I can’t fucking think.”

Isak hums, swivels his hips again. It feels a little weird doing it when he hasn’t got all of Even buried inside of him, when he’s technically more so hovering in mid-air, but it makes Even lose his breath and composure that little bit more.

Giving Even a hint would probably speed up this entire process – depending on how generous Isak wanted to be with his hints. It’s not often Isak gets to see Even like this, though, as desperate as Isak imagines he himself looks a lot of the time because of Even.

“Have I –“ Even tries again before Isak has decided if he wants to comply or not. “Have I done something? Good or bad? Fuck, Isak, I don’t know –“

“I’ll give you a hint,” he decides on the spot, because he is impatient and he wants, and his thighs are too close to shaking for how early it still is.

Even is staring up at him with wide eyes, his hips twitching minutely as he tries to be good and stay still. His hands are on Isak’s thighs by now, rubbing up and down slowly and actually helping with the small tremors Isak is already feeling.

He’ll be nice with his hint, he decides, because, again, he isn’t actually mad at Even. This is Isak playing along, and it’ll only be much more fun once Even realizes what is going on.

So, naturally, the hint Isak decides to give Even is, “Jonas.”

“What?” Even’s eyes are comically wide by now, only accentuated by the frown on his lips as he stares up at Isak incredulously. “Isak, you know how I feel about talking about other –”

Isak grins down at him, rolls his eyes petulantly in a way he knows Even would’ve commented on had this happened under normal circumstances. “Your hint. It’s ‘Jonas’.”

Even blinks. His hips aren’t even twitching anymore, he’s actually lying stock-still, which only emphasizes how Isak’s thighs are actually trembling at this point.

He slides up another inch, to get Even’s attention but also to make him think quicker, damn it.

“’Jonas’,” Even repeats, actually cringing as he’s forced to think about Isak’s best friend whilst he’s inside of Isak. Best hint ever. “What the hell does Jonas – Oh.”

Oh. Isak hadn’t predicted this reaction from Even.

Even is looking softly at him, his hands now gentler than ever before on his thighs, running up and down almost as smoothly as the chemise of the nightgown feels against his skin. “Isak,” he says apologetically, “I really am sorry, I promise. It’s not an excuse, but I honestly didn’t ever imagine that you didn’t –“

Isak laughs. “God, Even, no, that’s not –“ Well, it is, but not in the way Even thinks it is. “I’m not mad.”

Even is still just looking at him, hands barely touching him as if he isn’t sure the touch would be welcome, looking so damn insecure Isak wants to lean down and kiss him were it not for the fact that he’s staying still right now.

“You’re not?”

“I’m not,” he promises. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I was. This isn’t what you’re supposed to do when your relationship hurts you –“ a positively hurt noise tears itself out of Even’s throat “– you’re supposed to communicate in those situations. This isn’t about communication.”

He draws up another inch to accentuate his point, clenches down when he feels that he’s a lot closer to the head of Even’s dick than he’d thought he was, not wanting for Even to accidentally slip out.

“It’s not?” Even asks, sounding breathless again and like he isn’t doubting everything in front of his eyes anymore.

“No, baby,” Isak ensures him, linking one of his fingers with Even’s before smiling devilishly at him. “This is about playing,” and then he sinks all the way back down again.

Even makes a noise like all the air inside of his body has been punched out of him. His dick keeps twitching inside of Isak, and it shouldn’t feel this good, but it does, and Isak can’t keep in his moan of appreciation.

“’Playing’?” Even questions, breathing hard and staring at Isak like he never wants to look away and lot like he’s barely able to pay attention to what he’s saying.

Isak nods, clenches down again just because. “Yeah. Playing. As in ‘I can do it, too.’”

Even is nodding madly, because, holy shit, yes, he absolutely can. “And, uh, fuck, what are the rules?”

Isak hums again, pulls up and goes back down quicker than before, then does it again. The tip of his dick already feels wet with pre-come, and he almost looks down to check if it has left dark spots on his dress, but the sight of Even is a much better view to be honest. “What do you think the game is about?”

Even groans pitifully at having to think again when everything in the world – i.e. Isak – is working against him, rendering him completely unable to focus on anything that isn’t his boyfriend.

“Is it – are you,” he tries, licking his lips as his eyes rake down over Isak’s form, groaning gutturally when he notices Isak’s pebbled nipples poking out through the fabric. “Isak.”

Isak forces himself to slow down. He only lets out a little, breathy oof when all his blood and body are doing is singing for more, more, more.

“Are you doing all of them yourself? All of the, uh, competitions?” he searches for the right word. “Are you repeating all of it on me?”

Isak wrinkles his nose. The scientific-part of his brain is thinking that that was a much better idea, because that is, after all, how you’re supposed to compare results, but this isn’t about comparing results, Isak reminds that part of him. “No.”

“Isak,” Even groans in defeat. “You are literally – fuck, look at you, baby. You’re so fucking pretty and you’re so wet and hot around me, and you’re making me think, baby, when I literally can’t. Such a gorgeous sight, I don’t think you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are right now, sitting there in that dress – fuck.”

The corner of Isak’s mouth twitches upwards. “So, does that mean you like it, then?”

Even just groans again in reply.

“The game,” Isak stresses, rising up again only to pause much to the bemusement of the both of them, “was to surprise you. I never expected for you and Jonas to go as far as you did, and you clearly never expected of me to do this.”

Even blinks at him.

So,” he pauses expectantly, “are you? Surprised?”

“I am,” Even agrees, sliding his hands up Isak’s thighs to get to his hips, slowly easing Isak back down with a groan. “I really am, I couldn’t even imagine the sight of you right now, wouldn’t be able to dream of it. Of course, now,” he grins, pushing his hips up when Isak goes back down again, Isak allows it magnanimously, “that you have provided me with this absolutely exquisite image, I hope to never dream of anything but.”

“Sap,” Isak complains, but not really. He could lean down to kiss Even quiet, but on the next push from Even’s hips the angle is suddenly just right and Isak positively melts at the feeling of it.

“Oh,” he breathes out, quietly, a lot more quiet than he usually is at the touch of Even’s dick against his spot.

Maybe it’s because this isn’t something they’ve really done before; not the position, but Isak directing the moves as much as he’s been doing this morning. It’s been fun, that’s for sure, and Isak will treasure the look on Even’s face as he tried to realize what was going on for a long time to come, but now that Even is helping him move, now that Isak’s bones feel like melted chocolate and his blood is sizzling hot, he thinks it might be nicer to let Even pull his load.

In a minute, he tells himself, spreading his knees a bit wider on the mattress so he can rise up and down in short bursts, barely losing the feeling of being so full for more than a second at a time.

“I don’t have to worry about any more surprises, do I?” Even asks him. “I can only take so much, baby. You’re going to kill me.”

Isak feels a lot like if anyone were to die right now, it wouldn’t be Even. “I want to come like this,” he tells him instead, “but that’s hardly a surprise, is it?”

Even smiles lazily up at him. His eyes are very dark. “Doesn’t mean I don’t love it. Because I do. I fucking love making you come like that.”

Isak loves coming like that as well, but he doesn’t get the chance to tell Even that as he’s got one hand leaving his hip, smoothing over the fabric and going up, up, up until he lands somewhere around his waist.

The warmth of Even’s hand feels distant underneath the coolness of the chemise, and Isak twitches and loses his breath from the sensation, his brain not sure what to do with the mix of signals.

Even’s thumb rubs soothingly along the bottom line of his ribs, but it only makes Isak whimper for a short second before he bites down on his lip.

“God,” Even breathes out, eyes going impossibly darker until Isak feels like he’s entranced by the look of it. “Baby, shit, want to make you come like this. Want to make you wet with it. You already are a bit, aren’t you, baby? I can see it on your pretty dress, so pretty, baby, where you’ve dripped with slick.”

Isak definitely whimpers at that, losing the rhythm he’d managed to build up for a beat too long. The hand remaining on his hip squeezes him comfortingly, slowly directing him back to it firmly, helping him tilt his hips right enough that the tip of Even’s dick slides against his spot when he pushes back in.

It’s like Isak is in control under Even’s guidance, where they get to share the reins, and it’s so much, it’s so much.

“Ev,” he whispers, nearly choking on his own spit when he tries to clear his throat. “Even, I’m so close, I’m –“

A whine slips out of his mouth when the hand on his waist slides up even further, the tips of Even’s fingers just plucking slightly at the strap of the dress, at the hem where it covers his chest, runs along underneath his arm.

Over the lace covering his nipple.

“Even,” he tries again, more petulantly, but also a lot more breathless.

“God, baby, me too,” Even tells him thankfully, eyes trained on where he’s got two fingers circling the pointed tip of Isak’s nipple, slowly getting closer and closer until he suddenly switches tactic and his thumb sweeps across the lace, dragging it against him.

“Even!”

“Fuck,” Even agrees, raising his knees until he can plant his feet firmly on the bed, pushing his hips up a lot harder, a lot firmer now.

Isak leans back against Even’s knees for support, to give his thighs a rest and his lungs a chance to get some air in them, but the change in angle just makes everything perfect. Synapses lightening up in response, and Isak keens with it.

“Baby,” Even pinches his nipple between two fingers, twisting it gently just once before he lets go in favor of returning to his grip on Isak’s hips, directing him all that more easily. “How fucking lucky am I. Look at you, baby, such a pretty thing, aren’t you, all decked out in lace and your pretty face colored in so nicely.”

Isak’s knees clamp together reflexively, stopped by Even’s body between them. The different movement from going up and down just accentuates how sore his thighs already are.

“God, I want to kiss you,” Even tells him, eyes now trained on Isak’s lips instead. “Would you let me? I’d ruin your makeup, baby girl, but I bet you’ll still look so pretty with that pretty, pink color smeared all over your mouth, wouldn’t you? It would get on me as well, you’d be marking me up.”

Isak should not feel as hot a surge rushing through his stomach as he does at the image of residue pink gloss all over Even. He shouldn’t but he does. He just feels hotter with it, and his dick twitches warningly underneath the fabric, the head of it dragging deliciously along the silk until Isak whines with it, almost curling in on himself.

It’s only Even’s grip on him and his hips now pushing up relentlessly that keeps him in place, making sure that Even’s doesn’t lose the angle that’s guaranteed to make Isak come a lot sooner than he’d thought he would be.

“You’re leaking with it,” Even tells him as if Isak doesn’t already know. “I can feel you, you know, every time you get so close you feel like it can’t possibly get better. It can, baby, I promise you it can. Just let me show you, please, let me make you come.”

“Please,” Isak begs, the world around him swimming, the only constant being Even, Even, Even. He clenches around Even, feels how he twitches inside of him, how big he always feels, and it’s so good and Isak is so, so close. “Please.”

“Baby,” Even coos, groans when he has to force himself not to come before Isak. “God, it’s not fair, baby, how you play. Can’t believe that is what I got to wake up to today. Fuck me.”

“Fuck me,” Isak rectifies, not even bothered when Even can’t help but laugh at that, because he immediately makes up for it by forcing Isak’s thighs through one last sprint, pulling him down when he pushes up.

“I already am, baby,” Even reminds him, barely sounding out of breath, the bastard. “Can’t you feel me? Can’t you feel me inside of you? God, I want to fill you up, want for you to be dripping with it, just as wet with it as you are now. Isak. Are you close?”

Isak can’t answer, but Even doesn’t need for him to.

“You are, I can feel it. I can see it on you, can feel it inside of you. You’re so good, you know, always letting me know how to make you feel good, even if you don’t actually say the words out loud. Love making you feel good, making you come. Always want to make you come, just, over and over again for the rest of eternity.”

It’s not fair, Even knows he shouldn’t be bringing up infinities or the universe at a moment like this, Isak is goddamn helpless to it in a moment like this.

He moans high-pitched and so deeply in his throat that it hurts a bit when he comes, jostled up and down when Even keeps moving inside of him, around him, still directing Isak along with it as he comes and comes and comes.

He’s floating miles above their bed right now, his body not remembering to breathe for how good everything feels. Even keeps moving to prolong everything, to make sure that it stays good when Isak can’t have a hand on him to help him along.

“Ev,” he whimpers with it, and that’s enough for him to feel Even fill him up in turn, moaning so loudly Isak’s dick twitches already, and that is definitely way too soon, fuck.

Even’s hips are still making small aborted thrusts when the sensitivity starts to kick in properly, Isak now back in his own body again, breathing harshly and body sore but feeling so good.

“Fuck,” he gasps, because it’s the only thing he can think right now, and then he bends forward, trying to get closer to Even’s face, tries to get to lie down on his chest. “Fuck.”

He hasn’t kissed Even all morning, he suddenly realizes, and he wants to rectify that immediately.

“Kiss,” he demands when Even tries to maneuver him back up to a sitting position.

The smile that breaks out across Even’s face makes Isak’s heart practically grow three sizes bigger.

“Baby,” he coos, properly this time, and then helps Isak push forward so he can rest his chest on top of Even’s, and then he can kiss him.

His thighs ache and it’s difficult to keep his balance like this. He’s got come cooling against his skin, making the chemise stick to his skin weirdly, and he can feel Even softening inside of him.

“Good morning,” he whispers against Even’s lips, then ducks down to kiss him again.

As far as morning kisses go, this one is a pretty good one.

“Best morning,” Even grins too wide to kiss Isak properly, but Isak’s laughing as well, so it evens out.

Even slips out sooner rather than later, the tip of his dick leaving a wet smear against Isak’s cheek in a way that definitely does not make his stomach clench hotly, and then Isak’s thighs literally cannot take it anymore, so Even helps him tip slowly onto his back over on the right side of the bed.

His entire body relaxes when his head hits the pillows, a content sigh leaving his body as he grabs onto Even to keep a hold of him in any way he can.

Isak feels loose-limbed and satisfied in the best of ways, still fighting to control his breathing, but otherwise totally relaxed. He isn’t even all that mad about the thing anymore – not that he had really been mad at the beginning either, more annoyed that this was apparently a thing he was unwittingly being drawn into.

Maybe he would’ve felt differently if it weren’t a thing Even was winning, which, technically, in turn means that Isak was winning. Or if Even had been sharing overtly personal details of their sex life with the boys, then Isak would’ve been pissed, but Even knows where the line goes – contrary to previous evidence.

Next to him, Even is staring at the ceiling like he’s having an out-of-body experience. Isak’s blood is singing in his veins, he’s still breathing too hard from the exertion.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Isak giggles.

“I can’t feel my whole body,” Even moans. “Holy shit, Isak.”

A flush predictably rises into his cheeks. It’s just Even – Even knows everything about Isak and would never judge him on anything, but he still feels the need to hide his face behind his hands.

“Hey,” Even says softly, twisting onto his side and folding his fingers around Isak’s wrists. “Baby, let me see you.”

Isak is still flushed, would probably be squirming at the feeling of Even’s eyes on his body, on his face, if it weren’t for how he still can’t seem to move his legs. He lets Even move his hands easily, though, but he doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Baby,” Even sing-songs, one hand cupping his face, his thumb sweeping gently along the line of his cheekbone. “Still absolutely immaculate.”

Isak knows he’s talking about his makeup, but that doesn’t make him feel any less squirmy. “Stop,” he whines, actually meeting Even’s eyes now. “I just came.”

Something in Even’s eyes go a little wider, a little darker. “You did,” he agrees.

Even’s hand rests heavily on Isak’s hip, warm and grounding. Isak’s skin prickles with sensitivity under the touch of it, his dick remaining half hard rather than softening up completely. Even’s thumb sweeps across the skin stretched taught over the hipbone, again and again in a rather hypnotizing manner.

In a completely hypnotizing manner, Isak rectifies, when he suddenly feels the fingers of Even’s other hand swirling softly over his hole.

It is reflexes that make Isak’s legs clamp shut, a slightly panicked, way too high-pitched noise coming straight out of his throat as he nearly flies up the bed.

“Shh,” Even shushes, keeps a hold on his hip to scoot Isak down the bed again, then hooks a foot around Isak’s left shin, the one closest to Even, and pushes against Isak’s right thigh with his hand to open his legs again. “Just making the clean-up easier, baby.”

“What are you talking –“ Isak frowns, not sure he’s understood what Even means, ‘making the clean-up easier’ when he hasn’t even gotten up to get a wet towel yet, and when Isak knows Even knows cleaning come-stains off of t-shirts or whatever article of clothing had been the closest is one of Isak’s pet peeves, but then Even’s let go of Isak’s thigh and is pushing his fingers against his hole again.

And then they’re slipping inside, easy as nothing, just a smooth slide in, two fingers at once, all the way to the knuckle until Even can curl them upwards.

His body unwittingly tries to squirm away, but he only manages to dislodge Even’s fingers for a second before they’re pressing back against his spot, unrelenting and unapologetic.

“You’re not, that’s not –“ Isak gasps, squeezes his eyes shut and fumbles with his hands to grab onto Even. “That’s not cleaning and you know it.”

“Au contraire,” Even says obnoxiously, like he should’ve been cast in an obnoxious, pretentious French film or French porno at the rate this is going, “I am making it easier.”

He pulls his fingers out to the first knuckle, then presses them back in, and Isak can feel the point Even is trying to make.

It’s not exactly uncommon that Even comes inside of him, it’s rather the norm. Isak can’t remember the last time they’d even went out and bought condoms, not since their test results came back, he thinks. They both prefer the feeling of Even being bare inside of him, and Isak likes how wet he feels when Even comes inside of him. The feeling afterwards isn’t as much appreciated, the come slowly sliding back out mainly just making him squirm uncomfortably.

Right now, though, he can’t tell if Even’s trying to push the come out of him or back inside of him.

“Can’t you feel it?”

Isak can, he can feel it. He can feel Even’s fingers inside of him where he’s still lose and wet, can feel the come bubbling out when Even presses in, only to be pushed back inside when Even swirls his fingers through it and presses back in.

“I feel,” Isak gasps when Even curls his fingers again, “how big of an asshole you are.”

Oh, he set Even up perfectly for whatever he wants to say, Isak can feel that and also see it with how much Even’s waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, if you want to feel something of mine that’s big you’ve got to give me a few minutes, sweetheart.”

Isak huffs, tries to shut his legs closed again, but it doesn’t work when his left leg is still held immobile by Even. “Can’t extend that to me, too?”

Even presses a gentle kiss to his shoulder. “But baby,” he coos, “you don’t need a few minutes, do you? Just look at that, already,” he nods down to where Isak’s already fully hard.

Isak thinks his dick is a traitor. A traitor that has some kind of a trained Pavlovian response to Even and Even’s stupid ideas.

“You’re all wet, baby.” Even’s breath is hot against Isak’s skin, and he can’t help but flail again, he can’t. One hand curls around Even’s wrist, the one on his hip, and the other flies up to catch a hold of the pillows. “Such a pretty sight, aren’t you. You can’t really blame me for wanting to make you come again. You’re so pretty when you fall apart for me. Pretty all the time, but you’re goddamn radiant when I make you feel so good you can’t help it. It’s just too tempting for me not to make you come again and again.”

At this rate, Isak probably won’t even need a few minutes to come, let alone calm down so the overstimulation isn’t too ‘too much’. By the feel of it, Even also won’t need a few minutes before he’s hard enough to fuck Isak again, going off of the warm weight Isak can feel against the side of his upper thigh.

“You just woke up,” Isak gasps, doesn’t even try to shut his legs again even though his reflexes are trying to tell him to, “and you’ve already had a fucking great orgasm. Isn’t it a little too early for this much energy? Why do this now?”

“It’s all about surprises, isn’t it?” Even grins, leaning in close to bite his shoulder lightly, just next to where the strap of the chemise is threatening to slide down. “That’s what you told me, baby, what the rules of the game were. But I’ll let you in on this surprise – should it count?”

Isak mmphs, bearing down on Even’s fingers to get him deeper. “What?”

“I surprised you the first time,” Even explains, “when I made you come five times. You hadn’t expected that. I definitely did not expect the absolutely gorgeous sight I got to wake up to this morning, faen, baby. So now we’re going to add our two surprises together. And that means deciding if this one should count.”

‘This one.’ ‘Add our two surprises together.’ ‘This one.’

Isak’s eyes widen when he realizes just what it is Even’s planning on doing. ‘This one’, as in this one. As in right now, with three fingers inside, making Isak come like this, with nothing else touching him.

“You’ve done that before…” Isak trails off, not sure what Even’s trying to lead to.

Even smiles gently at him. “I have, that’s right, that’s not what I’m asking, though. I’m asking if it should count.”

If it should count? Count with what? Isak frowns and looks up at Even for a clue. He finds it in his dark eyes, at the upturned corner of his lip.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh god.

“It counts,” Isak blurts out, interrupted by a high-pitched whine when Even drives his fingers in a little harder. “It’s only – untouched, it’s – it counts,” wanting desperately to get the message across.

If Even makes him come on his fingers and it doesn’t count, Isak will have to come seven times tonight if Even wants to beat the record of five with his cock only.

Seven. It sounds terrifyingly high.

“It counts,” he repeats, close to begging at this point. He can’t do seven. He could barely do five – six still sounds impossible. Even’s had him do five twice by now – the first time and then the night after the club. Isak hasn’t had the time to mentally prepare himself for now being like one of those nights, let alone a time of beating the record.

Even hums like he still hasn’t decided whether or not it should count, and Isak can’t, he can’t – he doesn’t know how to convince him it should count because he can’t think, not with how good Even feels, how great everything feels right now. He’s so close, Even just has to keep moving his fingers for literal minutes and he’ll come again, he can feel it.

But then Even pulls his fingers out, and the whine that leaves Isak’s lips is a completely involuntary action.

“Shh, baby,” Even shushes him, helps him turn over on his side, facing away from Even. He’s so close, fuck. “I’ve got you, you’re okay, you’re so good, so fucking pretty, I never want to stop looking at you.”

Usually, Isak might’ve sassily made a comment about just what view of him Even doesn’t want to stop looking at, considering he’s pulling his back flush up against his chest, but right now he’s so on edge he can’t think, let alone speak in full sentences or banter with his boyfriend.

“Let’s solve the issue,” Even suggests, and the next thing Isak registers is the head of Even’s dick sliding against his cheek before it settles against his rim. He presses his hips back, tries to work Even inside without needing Even to move. It wouldn’t have worked, but Even helps him along.

Isak’s heart is pounding in his throat, he’s so keyed up, feels frantic to get Even as deep as possible, to fill him up, to completely surround him, to be as close as you can possibly get. He keeps making these tiny, huffy sounds to communicate what he wants, what he’s feeling to Even without actually saying any words. He’s so desperate he doesn’t realize just how close he really is, doesn’t realize that all he needed was the tip of Even’s dick sliding along his spot to make him come.

He moans like he’s dying. It’s so much, he’s so sensitive, and it’s so soon after the first one. He’s barely had any time to breathe.

Even swears behind him, one hand clamping down on his hip, except the negligee is caught in-between and has his hand immediately sliding down to the crease between his groin and his thigh.

The fabric is getting stickier with each movement that makes Isak’s come spread. Isak feels it as it slides along his skin, getting stuck momentarily and occasionally. Even swears once again when he notices it.

“Baby, look at you,” Even groans, and Isak can’t.

His cheeks are burning. He came from just having Even slip inside of him, he can barely breathe. All he’s seemingly able to do is clutch onto the arm Even wraps around him as if he’ll float away if Even lets go.

“You’re like a living wet dream, you know that?” Even’s breath feels hot against the shell of Isak’s ear. All of Even feels hot where he’s pressed against his back, hips now moving back and forth. Isak feels hot. “So gorgeous, and wearing something like that? Baby. Can’t believe how good you look right now, how much it means to me that you’ll let me see you like this. Do you know how jealous other people would be if they got to witness you like this? Got to see how good I make you feel, but know that they won’t ever get to touch you, because you’re mine, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yours,” Isak agrees breathlessly, turning his head into the pillow, into the crook of Even’s arm that he’s managed to worm underneath his body and fold around him securely. He smells like sweat and sex and them and Isak feels completely dizzy with it.

“Mine,” Even agrees, “just like I’m yours,” and then they’re moving.

Not as in Even picks up the speed, but as in he starts literally moving them whilst he’s still inside of Isak.

Isak lets out an alarmed, choked up noise and digs his nails into Even’s arm as he feels his center of gravity shift from his side as Even maneuvers the both of them onto their knees instead.

The slick fabric of the negligee runs along the dip of his back, leaving where he’s spread open around Even exposed to the warm, morning air, especially when Even shifts his weight more firmly onto his knees, pulling back and leaving Isak’s back exposed as well.

It gives Even a better angle, makes him sink in deeper than Isak would’ve thought was possible, makes him feel full and desperate all at once and way too soon.

“Beautiful from every angle,” Even tells him, and Isak’s cheeks feel scorching at the thought of the sight Even must be looking at right now. “This dress looks so good on you, baby, such a lovely color. It matches your pretty, pink lips, doesn’t it?”

Isak doesn’t have any air left in his lungs, can’t even moan to let Even know how pleased he is that he likes the negligee, so he tries to clench down on Even instead.

It makes Even groan deeply in his throat, but it also makes him feel so much bigger inside and it makes Even’s hips jump unpredictably. When Isak’s dick jumps in response it hurts because of how soon it is, but he’s already filling up, so much hot blood being pumped around in his system, all of it gathering around his center.

Even folds his body back over Isak’s, his lips pressing small, biting kisses along the straps of the chemise. Isak knows he’ll bruise from it, but right now the sting of it just makes his entire body sing, and Even being so close just makes it feel like he’s so deep, getting deeper and deeper every time he grinds down. He’s just moving his hips in small circles at this point, probably knows what he’s doing to Isak.

Definitely knows what he’s doing to Isak, Isak rectifies, when at the next roll his dick jumps to full hardness in mere seconds. Isak keens into the pillow in response. When he’s stopped, he hears Even tutting softly at him.

“Can’t have that,” he says, one hand curling underneath Isak’s chest, the other over his stomach – far up enough that there’s no danger of accidentally touching Isak’s cock no matter how much Isak tries to jerk his hips to make it happen. “I can’t have you muffle your noises, baby, not when they’re as pretty as you are.”

Isak doesn’t know what he expects will happen, if it just means Even will lift him up far enough to remove the pillows or what. He hadn’t thought that Even would move them again, not already, but he is. He’s pulling back upright, but this time he’s bringing Isak with him.

Isak’s back is plastered against Even’s chest, held in place by Even’s arms. The lacey cups scratch against his right nipple whenever Even moves the arm he has folded around his chest.

Like this, Isak’s practically sitting in Even’s lap, and it’s so reminiscent of how this morning started out, but now Even isn’t underneath Isak between his thighs, and Isak doesn’t have the leverage to move, to direct the angle and speed like he’d had this morning. Even can do that now, is the only one out of the two of them who is able to do it.

Even tightens his arms around Isak, slides them a little closer to each other, and then he lifts Isak up, a couple of inches off of his dick, and then helps him move back down again.

It’s painfully slow, and the chemise is the only reason why they aren’t currently getting a rug-burn from their sweaty skin sticking together, dragging against each other.

“Do you know what this reminds me of?” Even asks him, teeth grazing the back of his neck with every word.

Isak can only shiver in response.

“The club,” Even takes pity on him, probably aware that Isak isn’t in a state to play a guessing game. “How I had you against me like this, how we were moving exactly like this to the song they were playing. I remember how many boys were watching us, watching you, watching how lewdly you were moving your body, like all you wanted was me inside of you, like I already was inside of you, and you were being a little tease, just keeping me warm, not enough to make me come.”

Fuck. Isak’s hand twitches. He wants to reach down and touch himself, but he’s already come twice, it’ll be absolute torture to get any direct stimulation when his entire body is already wrecked with sensitivity.

“What if we went back there like this?”

Screw this, Isak does not even need a hand on his dick, he’s so close to coming already. He just got fully hard again, how is this possible? How does Even make him this desperate every goddamn time?

“Just like this. Just you wearing your pretty dress, looking absolutely stunning. They’d be able to see everything, wouldn’t they? They’d be able to see your pretty nipples through the lace, how puffy they get when I’ve had my hands on them for the entire night. They’d be able to see your clit, especially once I’ve made you come a couple of times. You’ll get the fabric so wet from how desperate you are that it’ll be see-through, they’ll be able to see everything. They’ll be able to tell how good you can be, not needing to touch yourself even once, that’s how good I can make you feel.”

Even’s hands slide down further, settling on his hips so he can move him quicker, picking up the speed until he’s bouncing in his lap. It means Even can’t keep him as firmly pressed against his chest, so Isak tips forward just far enough that he has to support himself with just his fingers against the mattress. It’s difficult now that Even’s pounding into him as quickly as he is.

His dick swings at the next thrust, slapping wetly against his stomach, making Isak keen. It’s not enough, not enough to make him come, but it’s still too much.

And then it’s suddenly more than enough, because Even is pounding mercilessly at the perfect angle, is probably leaving bruises behind on his hips with the grip he has on him, the dull throbbing feels oddly gentle through the chemise, and all it takes is a word from Even, telling him how good he makes Even feel when he comes, and then he’s doing just that. For the third time this morning. A weak spurt that makes his entire body tingle, all the way down to his toes, and turns all of his limbs into jelly.

Isak tips forward, can’t even help it. His body feels loose and like jelly, and it’s difficult to control. The bed sheet will mean friction, but Isak doubts it’ll even feel good at this point. It’ll just be one more thing that’s too much.

Even manages to catch him, one arm around his waist and one big hand pressed against his chest, and he’s still not touching his dick. He lowers him down until he’s hovering over the bed, then slowly pulls out so he can turn Isak around.

The sheets feel heavenly cool against his back.

Even’s panting where he’s hovering above him, his dick red and so fucking hard, Isak can’t remember the last time he saw Even this hard. It must be painful at this point, holding back for as long as Even has, long enough to make sure Isak will come six times in a row.

He places his hand on top of Isak’s stomach, just holding it there, a warm, comforting presence. He thumb sweeps against the line of his ribs, then along the edge of the lace.

Smoothes the fabric down, lets the silk rest against Isak’s skin before rucking it all up again. The slide of it tickles, but Isak can hardly move let alone do something about it.

“Like this,” Even whispers, “I love it like this, when I get to look at you. I love looking at you.”

Isak can’t move, but he sure can squirm. His body heats up way too quickly at Even’s words, because Isak likes it when Even looks at him. He can literally feel his eyes on him, knows when he’s purely admiring him and when he thinks he looks cute and also moments like this one where Even’s thoughts are elsewhere in another place that also involves Isak.

He can’t concentrate when he can feel Even’s eyes on him.

Right now, they seem to be centered on one place specifically. The whiteness of the lace just serves to make his puffy, sore nipples from Even’s fingers earlier stand out even more. He bites down on his tongue in preparation of Even doing something, anything as he’s wont to doing.

Isak just hadn’t expected that that something would be two things at once.

Even’s already between his thighs, and Isak is so lose and open he doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before, but it still sends a shock up his spine when Even presses in, even as he goes about it kindly and softly enough that Isak’s oversensitivity isn’t protesting too much.

Normally, getting Even inside whether it be the first time or the second or the night of the night – or morning in this case – is enough to make something in Isak snap in the best way possible, but this time when Even’s hips are nearly pressed all the way against Isak’s cheeks, he leans down and gets his mouth along the edge of the lace.

Isak can see the traces of spit on his skin or remaining as dark patches as the fabric soaks up the liquid.

“Can’t believe I haven’t gotten around to tasting you yet,” Even murmurs, his lips moving against Isak’s skin in the worst tease possible, and then he closes his mouth around the bud through the lace.

Isak can’t describe the noise he makes. Can’t keep his body from trying to curl up, his knees drawing up high around Even’s waist when there’s literally nowhere for him to go for Even’s bulk pressing him down. It just makes it easier for Even to sink in those last couple of inches in one smooth go, which causes another array of noises to slip out of Isak’s mouth.

It’s so much. It’s too much. His dick is already trying desperately to get hard again, is succeeding in getting hard again despite how soon it really is.

“Three,” he mumbles through gritted teeth, not sure if it’s to remind Even or himself of it. It’s still then it hits him. “Halfway. Fuck, we’re only halfway. I’m going to die.”

Even laughs, his teeth catching against the lace. Isak whines.

“Imagine that eulogy, though,” Even points out, utterly annoying and so distracting when he decides to move his hips just so. “’Got dicked down so good by his boyfriend that he died right then and there.’”

“Shut up,” Isak groans, immediately wishing he hadn’t when Even decides to occupy his mouth in another way.

His body tries to curl in on itself, but it can’t, not when Even is covering him like this. It just opens his hips up wider, makes it easier for Even to sink in deeper and deeper until Isak physically cannot draw in another breath.

He wouldn’t be able to grab his dick like this even if he’d wanted to, so he busies his hands with Even’s hair instead, running his fingers through it until it stands up wildly.

“I’m serious,” Isak’s voice cracks when one particular movement sends him bouncing on the bed. His breathing is so goddamn loud and incredibly uneven. “Six – Even, I don’t think I can.”

He whines when Even pauses, stills when he’s only halfway inside of him. Isak tries to squirm further down the bed, tries to encourage Even to start moving again without saying anything.

But Even doesn’t start moving again. Not his hips, anyway, not the part of his body that Isak’s blood is begging for him to move. He does move his mouth away from Isak’s rather abused nipple, the cold air hardening the nub, making it a thousand times more sensitive than when Even had had his mouth on it as the wet lace drags across the peak.

“Isak,” Even shifts so he’s resting his weight on his elbows, bracketing Isak with them, making it so Isak has no choice but to look up at him. He makes sure to do it with dismay, though, at Even’s sudden decision of inactivity, even as it means it’s easier to catch his breath. “Do you really think we would be doing this, if I didn’t think you could?”

Something burns hot inside of Isak’s stomach at the words, at the thought that Even knows his body so well, knows his limits and where he can push, what is safe to do and what wouldn’t be. That he literally knows how to make Isak experience sensations he wouldn’t be able to dream about.

“N-no,” he stutters, not because he’s unsure, but because he wants.

Not that he hadn’t wanted it a minute ago, or the minute before that, or the one before that, or any of the minutes since Even had put the option out there for Isak to recognize.

There’s still a part of him, at the back of his head, gnawing at his brain that it’s impossible, literally impossible for Even to make him come six times, untouched or not, but it’s the same part that had said five times were too many times as well. It’s also very alike to the other part, the part that had told him he shouldn’t want to wear panties or makeup or to feel pretty, not when he was a boy.

“Isak,” Even groans, actually closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, as if he has to force his body down from the edge.

Isak places his hands gently around Even’s biceps, waits nearly patiently for Even to open his eyes again. He blinks innocently up at him once he does.

“Do you have any idea of what you look like right now?”

It immediately feels like a punch to the gut, because the implications of Even looking at him always serves to make him feel hotter than the sun.

“Of what you looked like just then? You got so tight around me, baby, nearly made me come again. And your eyes got so dark. Were you thinking about it? About how you are going to feel after six times?”

Isak forces his upper back up from the bed, has to hide his face away in Even’s neck, has to. He presses his nose into the sweaty skin, lets all of his senses be filled with Even, with safety.

Even lowers himself down further to make it easier for Isak, being careful to keep his hips and stomach propped up the entire time.

His hold on Even’s arms surprisingly make it easier for Isak to keep himself from scooting up the bed when Even starts to move his hips in short, hard jabs that make Isak’s breath hitch.

“How sensitive do you think you’ll be?”

This is torture, absolute and utter torture. Isak bites down on Even’s collarbone, but it does little to nothing to deter him.

“Do you remember how much it was after five times? How you could barely handle me holding you close?”

Isak does remember. He remembers how his body had been begging for Even’s touch, but at the same time had been so overly sensitized that even the sheets against his back had made him want to cry.

“How do you think you’ll feel after six?” Even wonders, then covers Isak’s mouth with his own as if he can sense just how hard and how much Isak is about to swear at him.

Isak can’t handle much coordination right now, is failing rather incredibly at moving his lips in tandem with Even’s, but Even doesn’t mind. He loves this, Isak knows, loves when he gets Isak like this, and he loves that when they kiss like this – if you can call it kissing – that it’s practically just a way for him to smear Isak’s lipstick all over his mouth, make everything look slick and shiny and Isak himself completely fucked out.

Even groans when he pulls back to see it. Isak’s hands slide down his arms to his elbows, to his wrist, then left floundering in the air as he tries to grab onto something tangible. He ends up with his fingers curling into the pillows underneath his head, and it’s not until he’s got a proper hold on them that he realizes he’s practically spread himself out for Even to look at.

And Even is definitely looking.

“God, baby,” Even says, awed. A hand sweeps against Isak’s side, making him squirm from sensitivity. “You’re so wet,” and Isak wouldn’t even know where Even’s talking about – if it’s his dick steadily leaking, or hole so full of lube and come – if it weren’t for Even’s blown pupils staring intently at where Isak’s dick is lying hard against his stomach with pools of cooling come. It colors the chemise darker where it touches, leaving it even further translucent than it had already been. Approximately the entire bottom of the front is at this point see-through, Isak’s dick fully visible, the fabric going as far as sticking to his skin, molding itself to him.

Another drop of pre-come blurts out of his tip. Fuck, it shouldn’t be this hot, Isak shouldn’t feel this close again already, but he does.

And even worse, Even knows he does, because he always gets that infuriating, smug look on his face, so goddamn proud that he’s gotten Isak to this point, that he’s made him so desperate, that he’s made him feel this good. Isak tries to scowl at him in response, but he can’t, not when Even is being so good to him.

Or the fucking worst, Isak changes his mind, because Even knows him, and knowledge is a powerful, dangerous tool that makes it possible for Even to say, “Just look at your clit,” and it’s not fair. It’s not fair that all Even has to do is say five words – one word in particular – and Isak is coming again. For the fourth time.

It’s a wounded noise that tears itself out of Isak’s throat. He’s definitely bordering the line between pain and pleasure by now, and this time he seriously cannot get any air into his lungs.

Even must be able to tell, because he slows down, doesn’t just continue as if Isak hasn’t come yet, or like it doesn’t matter if he has or hasn’t come yet, because he’s there for Even to make him come again and again and again.

Isak’s dick twitches violently against his stomach, struggling to get hard again.

“Four,” Even whispers, soft and sweet and almost overwhelmed because of Isak.

Four, Isak repeats in his mind, feels his heart tug oddly at the number. It had technically been the goal the first time, because that’s how many times Jonas had managed to make a girl come untouched, and then Even had just decided to up the ante on the spot.

He still remembers how he’d felt the first time; how his body had felt like molten lava, how he’d been swimming in what he’d thought at the time to be utmost euphoria, how he’d tightened up like a bowstring when Even had started to wonder about the possibility of a fifth time.

He remembers how it had felt when he’d dragged Even home from the club, when Even had made him come for the fourth time, sitting on one of their chairs whilst he was still partly dressed, sweating through the tight clothes. The material of his trousers had scraped against Isak’s bare thighs, had made everything feel like so much more from the pain until Isak hadn’t been able to do anything but cling to Even. He remembers desperately thinking, ‘one more left’.

Now he has to think ‘two more left.’

It’s a startlingly large difference considering how it’s only one number higher.

One number brings, apparently, a very large difference.

“You’re dripping with it,” Even’s fingers dance over the wet fabric, down, down, down, over his hips, digging into his inner thighs.

It should be biologically impossible for Isak’s cheeks to burn hotter than they already are, but the implications of what Even’s saying. That it’s not only because Even’s made him come four times, it’s also that he’s literally dripping with it, his body so desperate to get Even inside that it’ll do anything to make the process go smoothly.

Suddenly, Isak doesn’t feel wet enough. He wants to feel like he’s actually ‘getting wet’ down there, wants to be dripping with it, like Even had said he was, wants for Even’s dick, his pubic hair, his groin, his thighs to be shining with slick when he pulls his hips back.

He wants for Even to know, to be able to see and feel how much he wants him, all the fucking time.

It’s like Even can tell what he’s thinking, Isak only has to whine at him once before he’s reaching over for the lube Isak had left on the bedside table when Even had still been asleep. The lid pops open as audibly as ever, just the sound enough to make Isak clench down on Even reflexively in anticipation.

He doesn’t even pull out to do it, just pours the lube directly over where they’re connected and then fucks it into Isak with every thrust. The noises are positively lewd and Isak blushes a bright red, cheeks heating up at the sound and the feeling.

“So fucking wet for me,” Even mumbles, and Isak can’t tell if he’s talking about the pools of come cooling on his stomach, about his dick still steadily leaking pre-come and raring to go despite how many times he’s already come by now, or about where Even’s fucking lube and his own come inside of him, over and over again.

No matter what, Isak shivers with it, dick twitching and doing its best to fill up entirely despite being so spent. He can’t stop making small sounds every time Even moves, every time he breathes. He feels like he’s floating and the only thing that’s keeping him tethered to the world is Even.

“I wonder…” Even mutters to himself most likely, Isak barely catching the words and then taking a while to understand them. His brain feels like mush.

If he hadn’t already come four times, he probably would’ve had the capacity of paying more attention, probably would’ve figured it out when Even grabs hold of both his wrists with one hand, his now free left hand brushing over his cheekbone, following the line of his jaw line, his throat, the sweetheart-cut of the negligee, his sternum, his stomach, hips, upper thighs. And Isak thinks it’s just to touch, to get a better grip, change the angle, maybe, despite not needing it and knowing Even also knows he doesn’t need to.

But there are so many other sensations to pay attention to – Even inside him, around him, on top of him, the cool chemise against his skin making his body sing from too much stimulation – that he doesn’t pay attention to when Even’s fingers start to move up. Up along his inner thigh, up to his groin, up to where Even’s splitting him open.

When he does notice, he thinks that maybe Even’s just going to curl them around the base of his own dick to starve off his orgasm until he’s made Isak come again. He does not think that Even twirling one of his fingers around in the mess of lube of come leaking out of Isak, tickling the skin around his rim, has any other purpose than just to touch.

Even taps his finger against the top of his hole, right below his balls and perineum and above where he’s split open and being used. Isak bites off a whimper at each tap, breath coming out short until he can’t keep in the sounds.

And then, on the next thrust in, both so quickly that Isak doesn’t figure it out until it’s happening, but so slowly that he feels every single bit of it, Even slides his finger in alongside his dick, all the way down to his last knuckle.

The wail Isak lets out doesn’t sound human.

He’s floating, everything is so much and yet faded from around him. Isak can’t even feel his own body, can only feel Even where he’s spreading his thighs open and where he’s hovering above him and where he’s practically splitting him open with both his dick and a finger, curled expertly and torturously against the overstimulated, swollen nub inside of Isak.

“Alright, that was a bit mean of me, wasn’t it?” Even coos, voice soft and completely unapologetic. “It’s okay, baby, you’re okay. Take a deep breath for me, it’s okay, you can stop crying now.”

Is he crying? He hadn’t noticed. Isak accidentally hiccups when he tries to let the deep breath out.

“There you go. God, what a sight you are. So fucking pretty,” and Even sounds… awed. And like he believes it.

Isak doubts there’s anything attractive about him right now. He’s sweaty and feels like someone has taken the inside of his skin and flipped it the wrong side out, he’s so overly sensitized. And if he’s been crying, his face will probably be red and blotchy.

Even’s hand is sticky where he’s placed it on Isak’s thigh. Isak hadn’t even noticed him pulling his finger out again. His dick is still inside of him, at least he hasn’t missed that much. He’s leaving a trace of lube on Isak’s skin where he’s softly, soothingly smoothing his thumb in gentle circles to help Isak calm down.

And then he naturally has to say something that will make Isak do the opposite.

“Can’t wait for the day where your body won’t be satisfied until you’ve come at least four times, where you’ll still want it, won’t stop wanting it even as your body screams for relief.”

Always want you, Isak wants to say, but he doesn’t have the air for it, can’t work out the muscles to do it with.

He can’t stop moving, literally can’t make his body stop shivering and shuffling. He’s thrashing so badly Even has to tighten his grip around his wrist and lean his chest down on Isak’s, keeping his lower half propped up awkwardly to avoid accidentally providing friction to Isak’s cock.

“Last one,” he gasps, reminds Even, he can’t even tell at this point. He has no idea how he’s managed to keep count.

Even cups his cheek in his hand, wiping over sticky skin from residue tears. He looks positively awed. “God, you’re amazing. How the fuck did I get so lucky?”

Isak is the lucky one, he wants to tell him, but then Even moves his hips in slow rotations that make Isak choke on his tongue and the words.

It’s so much. It’s so much. Isak can’t feel that he’s still lying on the bed, can only feel Even and the chemise somehow still able to slide against his skin, increasing every sensation by a thousand. He can’t tell if he’s hard yet or again or at all, can still feel the pleasure running through his body, feels how the sensitivity is making him cling to Even harder and harder.

Even, who is absolutely lovely. The loveliest person Isak has ever met, who is so unbelievably kind. He hasn’t moved away to get a better angle or better purchase on the bed or anything, has instead stayed down, covering Isak’s body with his own and has let Isak cling on to him as tightly as he wants to. Isak is sure that Even’s thighs must be shaking from the exertion by now, but he doesn’t complain, doesn’t say a word about it. Just keeps pressing tiny kisses to Isak’s hairline, his temple, the corner of his eye to lick away stray tears.

“Just one more,” Even reminds him, “then I’ll come inside of you again. Do you want that? Do you want to still be full of me once I’ve pulled out? Do you want to feel me inside of you, slowly dripping out?”

Isak whines, thrashes as much as he can underneath Even’s bulk, which isn’t a lot. His fingernails are leaving scratches down Even’s back in desperation. His body keeps telling him that this is too much, but his brain just keeps wanting more.

“One more,” he gasps, agreeing, commenting, he doesn’t know, he can’t tell.

He keeps making these tiny, little noises, he knows, because he can feel the vibrations of it in his throat, but the sound is distant, like it’s coming from another room. The only thing Isak knows with certainty is Even, so Isak opens his eyes – not sure of when he’d closed them – and focuses on Even.

His hair is curling around the edges from sweat and he is looking positively gorgeous.

He’s the most beautiful thing Isak has ever seen in this entire world. There’s almost something poetic in how he comes like that, looking wide-eyed up at Even in complete admiration of him as Even is carefully, methodically moving his hips in a pattern that should have him avoid coming before Isak has, but is also little enough that Isak still feels good from it, hasn’t fallen over the pleasure-pain edge to the bad side.

He comes with a hitched breath, completely dry, nothing left in his body to spurt out. His dick just twitches weakly against his stomach, barely anything more than half hard.

The noises come afterwards.

Isak keens. He thinks he might be repeating Even’s name, over and over again as if in a prayer, he can’t tell, can’t hear it over the many, many sensations his body is feeling, is trying to sort through.

The next thing he’s certain of is Even moaning in his ear, and after a thrust that had been harder than the previous ones Isak can feel him twitching inside of him, and then he feels a different kind of wetness inside.

If he hadn’t literally come six times already, he probably would’ve gotten hard from that.

God. God. Fuck.

Six times.

Six times. They actually did it.

“Oh my god,” Even gasps, still buried deep inside of Isak.

It’s starting to hurt by now. Isak tries to wiggle his hips to get Even to slide out of him, but he can’t move. He might’ve actually died after all, holy Christ.

He’s sticky all over, is practically leaking a mixture of lube and Even’s come, not to mention the many loads of come drying on his skin or already soaked up by the negligee. Isak will probably have to buy a new one, no amount of washing will be able to save that thing now.

“I love you,” Even tells him out of the blue, still inside of him and on top of him and starting to stick to him as well. “Do I tell you that enough? I don’t think I do. I’m so in fucking love with you.”

Isak can’t feel his toes. He can’t feel his legs; pretty much the only thing he can feel is where he’s still stretched around Even as he’s slowly softening inside of him and a few other parts of his body where he’s touching Even. He cannot move and he has precious little air inside of his lungs, and yet he’s so overcome with just how much he’s also in love with Even.

He’s chuckling with it, unsure of where he has gotten the breath to do it. It’s interrupted with a hurt, croaked hitch of air when Even is too soft to stay inside of him any longer, slipping out on accident.

Isak tries to work his thighs up around Even’s waist, tries to grab onto his arms, his back, anything to get him to stay where he is right now.

It’s painful, definitely way too many sensations and stimuli for Isak to handle Even being as close as he is right now, but the thought of Even pulling away, even if it’s just to lie next to him, is unbearable to handle.

“I love you,” Even tells him again, breathing a little steadier now, but Isak thinks his eyes may be wet. He can’t tell properly, because Even is too close, is too busy pressing wet, hot kisses against his temple as he tries to soothe him back to earth. “Isak, baby, with or without all of this, I fucking love you.”

Isak manages to turn his head far enough that he can press his lips against Even’s jaw. His slight stubble scratches against his lips when he starts to talk. “Does that mean you’ll buy me another negligee? We’ve ruined this one.”

Even laughs, a little too wet for Isak to believe he isn’t crying right now.

“Baby,” he coos, drawing back far enough that he can kiss Isak, again and again, tiny, little kisses that are bordering on too much still. “I’ll buy you hundreds, anything you want, it’s yours. And then I’ll make you come six times every single time you wear one. God, Isak, six times. I can’t wrap my head around it. Do you know how amazing you are?”

He feels it – six times, that is. And amazing, too, he thinks. It’s still too soon to be able to distinguish anything that Isak feels other than worn out, so he puckers his lips and waits for Even to kiss him again.

Even complies with a smile, because, of course he does. Just tiny, little pecks, nothing that actually requires for them to move too much, not even their lips.

It’s so good. It’s the best – or, one of the best things Isak gets to do with Even. Everything that they do is one of the best things Isak gets to do with Even.

“I love you,” he whispers, knows that Even will be able to hear him.

He expects to get another kiss, maybe another dozen or so. He does not expect for Even to pause, hovering over him, far enough away that Isak doesn’t have the ability to reach up and kiss him himself. He raises a questioning eyebrow instead, knows that even if Even isn’t kissing him, he’s still got all of his attention.

“Six times,” Even clarifies, except it isn’t clarifying at all.

“I know,” Isak says, a little too sassy for how worn out he is. “I was there. I’m very much aware of how many times six times are.”

Even shakes his head. “No, baby, six times. That’s more than five.”

Isak’s brain might not be the only one that’s melted during this experience.

Even’s eyes are a little wild, but there’s a teasing tilt to the corner of his mouth that Isak does not trust.

“We can’t high five as an answer when the boys ask what the record is anymore.”

Oh my god. Oh, my, god.

Even manages to keep a straight face despite the very something look that Isak is giving him. He sighs, world-weary and way too goddamn dramatic. “Well,” he draws out, “I guess we’ll just have to go for ten, two high fives.”

“Oh my god!” Isak can’t keep it in this time, pushing at Even with weak arms and legs to get him away. “Get off of me. Oh my god, I hate you, what the fuck, Even.”

Even is laughing, the bastard, the absolute idiot, Isak can’t stand him.

“You love me,” Even teases, already turned onto his side so he can kiss Isak’s cheek, his temple, his jaw, anywhere that he can get close enough to for Isak’s flailing arms.

“I’m leaving you,” Isak counters petulantly. “As soon as I can feel my legs, I’m leaving you.”

“You can’t feel your legs because I fucked you so well,” Even reminds him, voice suddenly an octave deeper. He’s so warm where his skin is touching Isak, even through the now ruined chemise.

Isak’s breath gets caught in his throat. He’s aching all over, his skin still feels like it’ll be preferable to just tear it straight off, Even shouldn’t be able to do this to him.

“I will fuck you up,” Isak threatens, but it comes out too soft, nothing like a warning at all.

Even looks at him particularly adoringly. “I’m already fucked up over you,” knows it means I love you.

Isak groans. He can’t even turn around to bury his head in the pillows so he won’t have to look at the deplorably loving look on Even’s face, the absolute sap.

“I can’t tell if I want you to never touch me again or if I want you to kiss me,” he tells him instead.

It’s not a lie, and it’s not even because Even is horrible and the most wonderful person Isak has ever met who says such stupid things. It’s because he can’t tell that he’s lying the right way around on the bed, can’t even tell that he is in fact lying on the bed. It’s because Even made him come six times in one go, and he literally cannot think because of it.

Even smiles at him softly, reaches one hand out and places it on Isak’s head, behind his ear, as if he’ll run his fingers through his hair. Isak won’t be able to handle that, though, not so many sensations as that’ll bring, and Even knows that, so he just rests it there, doesn’t card his hand through sweaty, golden curls. He does drag his thumb against the shell of Isak’s ear, just lightly enough that it doesn’t make Isak try to squirm away.

“Kiss you,” Isak decides before Even can suggest something else, like going to sleep. He doesn’t want to go to sleep, even as he’s already feeling his eyelids practically fall shut. “I want to kiss you.”

“Okay, baby,” Even says, slowly shuffling closer. “Just lie there. Be good, and I’ll kiss you. And if you fall asleep, that’s okay, too, baby.”

“Won’t,” Isak protests, wants to lean closer to get Even’s lips on his faster, but Even had told him to stay there and be good, so he does that instead. “I’m going to kiss you. I’m not going to sleep.”

“Okay,” Even agrees without a fuss, but Isak can tell he’s doing it just to placate him.

He doesn’t complain, though, because then Even is kissing him, tiny little pecks again, just lips dragging against lips.

Isak stays awake long enough that his body isn’t tingling with nerves anymore, long enough that he can handle Even gathering him closer, can handle being pressed against Even’s chest. It feels a little weird, and it takes an embarrassingly long amount of time for Isak to realize it’s because of the chemise keeping his skin separate from Even.

He falls asleep with his lips still pressed against Even’s.

OOOOO

“Who ended up winning the game, by the way?” Magnus asks out of the blue when Mahdi scores another goal against Jonas.

It’s just embarrassing at this point.

“Huh?” Isak wrinkles his nose. “They’re still playing. Are you feeling alright?”

Magnus rolls his eyes and bats Isak’s hands away as he goes to check his temperature. “No, not the match, the game. You know, between Jonas and Even. Who won?”

Isak blinks as Magnus’ words catch up to him. Then – “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Magnus.”

“What?” Magnus knocks his arms out dramatically, accidentally catching Mahdi on the shoulder. “Am I the only one who is curious?”

“Yes,” Isak grumbles as Jonas just laughs at him.

Magnus rolls his eyes at him whilst, deliberately this time, he puffs at Mahdi’s shoulder to prompt him to agreement. “Come on,” he groans. “It went on for so long, and now, nothing. I know nothing about Evak’s sex life anymore.”

Isak’s entire face is scrunched up at this point. “Just like you shouldn’t?”

“Lighten up, Issy,” Jonas’ elbow digs its way into the arch of Isak’s foot, not willing to stray his attention away from the screen for any more than that. “We’re just teasing.”

Magnus grimaces. “No, I genuinely want to know.”

“Magnus –“ Isak groans, but doesn’t get to finish his complaining for Mahdi breaking in.

“I had expected it would end in, like, some big finale,” Mahdi admits, tossing the controller at Jonas when his players on screen do a victory lap around the field. “Not as abruptly as it did.”

“Well, if you two hadn’t blabbed…” Jonas reminds them, laughing harder than Isak would’ve expected from someone who just lost a FIFA match to Mahdi.

“It literally wasn’t a secret!” Magnus points out indignantly, turning to Isak as if he expects him to agree.

Honestly.

He turns his attention back to Jonas instead when he realizes that that definitely isn’t happening.

“Are you seriously telling me you and Even haven’t worked out who is the winner?” Magnus asks Jonas who, thankfully, suddenly is very busy picking out a new team to play as.

“Bro…” Jonas starts, but doesn’t finish. That is why Isak knows Jonas is a traitor who has been conversing with Even over who the ‘winner’ is.

And now everyone else in the room knows as well.

Magnus squeaks loudly a little too close to Isak’s ear for him to not flinch away, jumping around on the bed, and Mahdi is clapping and shouting like a madman.

“Tell me, tell me, tell me,” Magnus begs, belly-flopping onto the mattress that decidedly does not fit four fully-grown teenage boys. His torso lands across Isak’s legs, and Isak only takes mild enjoyment in the knowledge that it had hurt Magnus more than it had hurt him. “Jonas, tell me!”

“We know literally everything else,” Mahdi points out, and Isak’s cheeks do not heat up, they don’t. “Seriøst, just tell us.”

Jonas shrugs, but he’s laughing goofily, and Isak can’t tell if he’s looking over at him from the corner of his eye or if he’s looking anywhere but at Isak.

“It, uh –“ Jonas licks his lips. For every second he doesn’t speak, Isak’s heart rate spikes. “It really isn’t all that important.”

“Uh,” Magnus protests, “yeah, it is. Come on. Be a bro.”

Isak snorts and starts to push Magnus’ body off of his legs. “Stop. All of you.”

“I didn’t even do any-“ Jonas starts to protest.

“All of you,” Isak insists, curling his legs up when they’re finally free from Magnus’ bulk. “No more questions, no more inquiries, no more whatever you want to call it –“

He’s interrupted by the front door opening and Even yelling out, “Halla,” and giving Isak specifically a soft, “Hei, baby.”

He’s got his schoolbag slung over his shoulder and another bag in his hand, because today’s shoot required so many different tools Isak had lost count as Even had gotten ready this morning.

“Even, please,” Magnus begs, masterly avoiding Isak’s hands when he tries to shove him into the mattress. “Tell me who won!”

Even’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, a little bit of a shy smile slowly unfolding across his face. “What?”

“The game!” Magnus insists unhelpfully. “Who won?”

“They won’t tell us,” Mahdi finally tries to help, scooting forward towards the edge when Isak tries to kick out at him. “Who won, you or Jonas?”

“Oh!” Even’s mouth drops open comically in the perfect ‘o’-shape possible as he slings off his backpack.

Isak groans. “Do not –“ but he doesn’t get further than that before Even the name of the winner has left Even’s mouth.

“Isak,” Even replies without any hesitance whatsoever. He doesn’t even react when Magnus’ eyes go comically wide and Jonas goes a bit pink and Mahdi glances suspiciously between the four of them as if they’re setting up a prank.

“Huh?” Magnus asks, looking intensely at Even before his gaze switches over to Isak, then back to Even. “Huh?”

“The winner,” Even shrugs. “Isak won.”

“How?” Mahdi asks. “He wasn’t even aware of the game! He didn’t participate!”

“Well –” Jonas starts to object to just what degree Isak had been participating, technically, but stops when all he receives for his troubles is Isak’s foot digging into his lower back.

Magnus’ finger digging into Isak’s side draws his attention away from Jonas.

“What did you do?” he asks, poking him again before Isak can bat his hands away. “How did you win – what did you –“

“Magnus,” Isak interrupts, tone serious. “I am telling you right now, you do not want to know what I did.”

Magnus blinks. Blinks again. Then a wide grin splits across his face as he waggles his eyebrows.

“No.”

“Oh, come on, just one thing, just tell me one thing!”

“Trust me, man,” Jonas begins a new match despite no one holding the other controller. Hopefully this just means he’ll actually get to win for once. “I know the bare minimum, and I am telling you right now, don’t ask questions.”

Isak levels a glare at the back of Jonas’ head. He knows he’ll be able to feel it. “And you are to never repeat any of it.”

“Holy fuck,” Mahdi swears, holding his head in his hands. “I can’t believe – Jesus Christ.”

“Better start believing it, then,” Even says, finally putting down the last bag. “Because Isak won the game. But –“ he bounds over towards the side of the bed where Isak is perched up against the wall. “– in terms of real life, I am the obvious winner because I get to have this wonderful boyfriend –“

“Ugh,” three of the boys immediately groan.

For once Isak doesn’t complain. Mostly because he’s too busy kissing Even quiet.

“I’m also the winner there, though,” he protests, raising an eyebrow teasingly at his boyfriend.

Even only gets his mouth open before Mahdi interrupts. “If the two of you start some weird, lovey-dovey version of a 90’s chick-flick, ‘no, you hang up first!’ I will walk.”

“Okay,” Even replies, worming a knee between Isak’s thighs so he can tower over Isak. “More room on the bed, then.”

“Do not –“ Jonas warns, but he’s laughing, even as Isak manages to smash one of the pillows into the back of his head.

Even is the one who gets hit in return, but only because he’s hovering over Isak, covering his body so he can kiss him the way Isak particularly likes.

Yeah, Isak thinks as Even is laughing, pulling back so he can throw the pillow back at the boys. Isak really is the winner.

[fandomsfeelsandfanfics]

The Arrangement, Part XIII/// Draco Malfoy x Reader

SUMMARY: The happiness only lasts so long.

WORD COUNT: a lil undere 2k

WARNING(S): angst once again

A/N: we all knew this was coming. we were going to get here sooner or later. you can only keep a secret for so long.

SERIES MASTERLIST | PLAYLIST

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Your alarm went off and as you reached to shut it off, Draco’s arms tightened around your waist.

“Draco,” you murmured. You nudged him in the chest and he loosened his grip just enough for you to be able to reach the alarm.

When it was finally quiet, Draco expected you to lay back down next to him. Just for a minute...or maybe two. Half an hour wouldn’t hurt. Before he could pull you back in, you were already up.

He groaned and rolled over onto his back. His eyes trailed you as you walked to the closet. He reached out to you. “Come lay down with me. Just for a little bit more.”

“I need to get dressed, Draco. I have work remember.” You looked over your shoulder at him. He was still half-asleep but he had this little angry look on his face that made you laugh.

You wandered over to him and sat next to him on the bed. Your hand came up to draw small circles on his chest. “Not all of us can sleep all day, someone’s gotta pay the bills.” His hands gripped your sides and for a moment it was a comforting gesture. Until he flipped you over.

All you had time to do was help. “Draco!” You slapped his chest.

“Paying the bills, is that what it’s about? Well, when I’m back to work, you won’t have to ever leave the house as far as I’m concerned.” He leaned down to kiss your neck but could practically hear the next words out of your mouth. Before you could reply, he said, “Unless you want to, of course.”

“Mhmm.” That’s what you wanted to hear. You kissed him, entertaining him for just a moment or more. Finally, you grabbed his shoulders. “I’ve got to go Draco.”

For once, he listened to what you said and rolled off of you. “Fine.” You hopped out of bed and made your way back to the closet. “But when we go on our honeymoon, we’re not gonna worry about any of this. I might just not bring you back.” Your back was turned to him but you knew he was smiling.

He left the room as you changed into your clothes. You figured a pencil skirt and a button-up shirt would do fine. By the time, you’d buttoned the very top button, you smelled coffee wafting in from the kitchen.

You followed the scent and found Draco there, leaning against the counter, sipping coffee and looking at the mail. It had been two weeks since he’d proposed and Draco spent most of it in your flat. He said he liked it better than his. He said it felt like home.

You’d gotten into a sort of routine that both of you liked. You both got up in the morning and nearly every morning Draco tried to convince you to stay with him—some mornings he succeeded. You didn’t quite know what he did while you worked but by the time you got home, he’d either cooked dinner or gotten take out. He was a surprisingly good cook and you wondered if you’d ever get him out of bed early enough to make breakfast. Everything was so perfect it shocked the two of you sometimes. And once he was back to work that would complete your schedule.

Domesticity looked good on him. He looked happy and healthy and younger than he had in years. You could see it, he could see it, everyone could see it. You tried to keep your engagement quiet but once Narcissa knew it seemed everyone in the Wizarding world did.

“You know, I reckon my mother’s more excited about the wedding than we are.” You retrieved your coffee from the counter next to him and took a sip while he held a letter from his mum out to you.

It took you only a second to count about five exclamation points just in the first paragraph. That was the most excitement she’d ever shown you. She’d already planned a big engagement party for the end of the week. She was definitely happy for the two of you.

You remember her telling you that he was her whole world and that you’d understand when she had kids. You didn’t have any yet but you thought you knew how exciting it was to see someone you loved so much finally be happy.

You leaned up and kissed Draco on the cheek. “I’ve gotta go but I’ll call you on my lunch break, yeah?” He nodded. He leaned down to kiss you without looking away from the paper. That was also apart of the routine.

-

You knew something was wrong. Or at least you thought you did. You tried to convince yourself otherwise but when Draco didn’t answer when you called during your lunch break and when he never called back, you knew.

When your key turned in the lock and you pushed the door open, there was silence on the other side. Blank, empty silence. Maybe Draco wasn’t even there.

Maybe something happened to him. No, that’s irrational. Maybe he just went out somewhere and forgot his phone; even though that wasn’t like him, it wasn’t impossible.

“Draco,” you called. For a second, there wasn’t a reply. Then right before you were about to call his name again, he replied.

“In here.” You rushed into the bedroom. He was standing there as if he were waiting for you.

“I was worried about you, you didn’t answer my calls.” Your eyes drifted up his body to make sure he was alright. When your eyes met his, you saw the anger in his cold grey eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You reached out to touch him and he shifted away. He brought his hand from behind his back and he was holding a pile of letters.

His eyebrow was raised, like he was accusing you of something obvious. You didn’t get it until you saw the small neat handwriting.

“Draco—”

“So you and my mom are plotting against me?” His voice was low and calm. Cold anger was somehow worse than screaming.

“No, it wasn’t like that. How did you even find that, were you going through my things?”

“Going through your things?! No, I wasn’t going through your things, I was looking for a pen to write my mother back and I found these and some of the money that went along with it.” You’d forgot about the letters entirely when you put them in your nightstand. You never imagined that he’d find them. “And anyways, does how I found this matter at all right now?”

“No, it doesn’t and I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry, let me explain—”

“You had better explain!”

“Okay, Narcissa was worried about you,” you spoke slowly, hoping that he words would reach him better that way, “so she wanted me to keep you safe and get you back on the right track. It was never meant to hurt you.”

“So what I’m hearing is my mom hired a babysitter for me?”

“Draco, no—”

“Yeah, you two manipulated me and where does it end. Were you gonna keep taking money from my mom to ‘take care of me’ while we were married?”

“No, listen—”

“Holy shit.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I was going to marry you. I was going to marry someone who was paid to date me! You were really going to take it that far, how could you?” His breath was ragged and there were tears pooling in his eyes. “How could you,” he mumbled.

“Draco, you really don’t understand.” He gave you a look that was both skeptical and hopeful. He wanted to believe what you were saying but he couldn’t. “It was never about the money. I only ever did this because I care about you and wanted you to be happy. That’s why your mum wanted to do this in the first place. She loves you. Draco, I love you.

“And the money stopped after Paris. I knew after the first night that this went beyond what me and Narcissa had arranged. This has nothing to do with her anymore, it’s me and you, Draco, that’s what matters.”

“No what matters is I can’t trust you. Even if everything you’re saying is true, it doesn’t change the fact that you and my mother treated me like a child and lied to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“People usually are when they get caught.”

“I’m sorry.” There didn’t seem to be anything else to say but Draco was getting tired of hearing that. He tried to walk past you but you stood in front of him. “I really am and I am sorry it happened the way it did but if Narcissa hadn’t asked me to do this we wouldn’t be together now.”

“How do you know that? Do you think I’m so helpless I couldn’t figure it out on my own? You think I needed you to fix me?” There was red hot anger behind his eyes.

“You know I’ve always believed in you. That’s why I kept coming back, there were multiple times that I wanted to give up, say no to the money but I kept coming back because I knew you’d come around.”

“And because you needed money. I knew you couldn’t be getting all that money from apprenticing but I never asked ‘cause I trust you. See how that works? I can’t even be trusted to be by myself.” He let out an angry chuckle. “I can’t believe you.”

“It was never about the money. Ever. You could take all the money away, you could take the trip to Paris away and I’d still be right there. It was about helping you get better and I messed everything up, I should’ve told you earlier or called it off earlier. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m in love with you and that has nothing to do with your mum and those letters. And I didn’t want you to find out this way, but we both know that no matter how things started everything worked out.”

“Stop trying to convince me that lying to me was a good thing. And it wasn’t some little lie, this was big.”

“But if your mother hadn’t done this we wouldn’t be getting married, isn’t that what’s important?”

“Getting married?” He looked down at your ring then back up at you disdainfully. “Don’t be so sure.” Ouch.

Draco heard how harsh it sounded as soon as it came out of his mouth. The look in your eyes was enough to make him apologize right then and there. Your eyes were hazy with tears and he could see all of the regret laying in them.

He sighed. “Listen, I just need time to process everything, okay? I need time to think before I can properly react to...this.”

“Yeah, I completely understand.” You didn’t look up at him, you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“I’m gonna stay at my place for a while.” You just nodded.

He lingered for a few minutes. Then you watched his feet as he walked out of the room. You were still staring at the ground where he was just standing when you heard the door shut.

[valkyrieofthehighfae]

Chapter 4

Warnings: Brief smut, mentions of needles. 18+ only y’all!

Word Count: 3.9k Join my taglist here Tagging: @mcu-padawan​ Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 I used the song “Bad Girl” by Avril Lavigne for V’s song of choice!

Sunlight streamed into my room, the brightness making me groan in disgust and pain, rolling over to bury my face in my pillows, cursing tiredly into the soft, cushy material. The beeping of my comm from across the room drew another curse from my lips and I sat up, my hair falling into my face, and I practically crawled out of bed to get the damn thing.

“Hello?” I croaked, throat scratchy and dry.

“Oh, you’re alive. I thought you might have died in an alley somewhere considering you never showed up last night.”

Oh shit. I had forgotten that I was supposed to go to the Crypt last night after drinks with the gang. I closed my eyes and swallowed thickly, wincing at the annoyance in Grave’s voice.

“Sorry, I lost track of time last night. I don’t even remember getting home.” I muttered, taking my comm with me to the ‘fresher so I could get some water and pee.

“You better be here tonight, Baby Doll. If you’re not, we’re gonna have problems.” Grave growled before disconnecting the transmission. I was too hungover for this shit and just wanted to crawl back into bed, feeling like death, when I caught something written on my arm. It was Crosshairs’ private comm channel and I felt my cheeks warm up again as I looked it over with a slight smile. I needed to write it down on paper so I could shower and try to feel less… death like.

“Astrid, you up?” Koyi croaked, shuffling into the room, bleary eyed and still in her bodycon dress from last night.

“Morning.” I yawned and took a drink of nice, cold water, passing the cup over to her.

“Who dared call this early? Your comm woke me up from my place on the floor by your couch.” She groaned, going for my shower.

“Take a wild guess.” I grumbled, taking a seat on the nice, cool floor of my refresher. Koyi groaned angrily at the mention of Grave, pulling a face. “I was supposed to be at the Crypt last night and I got so caught up with Crosshair that I lost track of time. And, uh, apparently how we got home because I don’t remember that shit at all. But yeah, he’s mad that I didn’t show last night and said I better be there tonight.” I grumbled while laying down on the floor, pressing my cheek to the cold marble.

“Ugh I hate Grave so much.” Koyi groaned from my shower, the sound of the water hitting the shower door enough to make my head throb.

“Right now? So do I. And I hate the shower, the water hurts my head.” I closed my eyes, wishing my head would quit pounding.

“You’re a medic, don’t you have some banana bags on hand?”

I shot up far too quickly at her words: she was right, I actually did keep a stash of IV supplies here just in case of stuff like this. I just had to find the will and motivation to get up and actually get them. I felt like a dumbass for not remembering that sooner, that would be the perfect pick me up for this nightmarish hangover. With a moan of discomfort, I pushed myself up to my feet and trudged off to go get them, waiting for Koyi to hurry up and get out of the shower so I could hook her up.

Twenty minutes later, we were dressed and headed to this little pizza joint near Koyi’s tattoo parlor, dying for a good slice of pizza to help chase away the last dregs of this hangover that the banana bag didn’t touch. My stomach was growling loudly at the thought of getting something good to eat, making Koyi start laughing as we walked in through the doors.

“Oops. My bad. Guess I’m more hungry than I thought I was.” I laughed as well, wincing a little, mortified by just how loud it was. We snagged an open table in the back corner, our usual waiter already putting in our order for us.

“So are you gonna comm that cute guy you were with last night?” Koyi plucked a breadstick from the basket and took a bite.

“Crosshair? I dunno… I’m in a relationship. I shouldn’t have even flirted or danced with him last night.” I grabbed a breadstick as well, but pulled at it instead, chewing on my lip.

“He was really into you! I’m telling you, you need to break up with Grave and give this guy a shot! He’d treat you a lot better than Grave does.” Koyi pointed out smugly and took a sip of her drink.

“Oh please, he was just hoping for an easy hookup. Look, I know how you feel about Grave, and I’m sorry you guys don’t like each other, but that’s who I’m dating. End of story.” I snapped, finally growing tired of her nagging at me about Grave.

“Okay. Sorry. I won’t bring it up again.” Koyi gave me a wounded look, frowning deeply at my harshness.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -”

“Whatever, you’re right. You’re gonna do what you’re gonna do, and you’re gonna date whoever you’re gonna date,” She got up and went over to Stetson, asking for her food to be brought over to her parlor. “I’ll see you later, Valkyrie. Let me know when you’ve pulled your head out of your ass.” She walked out in a huff and I sighed. She was really mad if she was calling me Valkyrie instead of Astrid.

“Everything okay with you and Koyi? I never see you guys fight, like ever.” Stetson asked, setting my order down and dropped into the empty seat across from me.

“Yeah, I guess.” I looked down at the pizza, not hungry anymore.

“Is it about Grave again? Cuz that’s the only time I see you guys ever get tense with each other.” He leaned forward, brows knit together slightly, worry on his face.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is. I know she’s concerned, I’m not trying to downplay that, it just gets old hearing it all the time when I’m home on leave. When I’m home, I don’t want to get a talking to about who I’m dating. I hear it from Ivar, who thinks Grave and I aren’t even together anymore and is constantly trying to set me up with guys, and Koyi, who makes jabs and other comments.” I forced myself to eat something so I wasn’t overly grumpy later when I went to the Crypt to see Grave. Stetson squeezed my shoulder kindly before getting up to run over Koyi’s order to her, leaving me in the main part of the parlor with my thoughts. Koyi was right, Grave wasn’t exactly boyfriend material; he never reciprocated when I told him I loved him, he would always change the subject or distract me with other things. And I swore he had something going on with the new girl, Candy, but I didn’t have any definitive proof and I trusted him, so maybe it was just me being jealous.

Ugh I should just… end things. Get it over with already. I sighed heavily, setting the half eaten slice of pizza down on my plate. This was just ridiculous, what was I doing with my life? Leading two different lives was utterly exhausting and I wasn’t sure I could keep up with it anymore, I was going to have to pick eventually and as much as I loved dancing, I would pick my boys in the 501st any day over being a dancer. I’d come to really love these guys dearly already and had been accepted into their little family.

I let out a soft grunt of annoyance when my comm lit up and hit the flashing button to answer it, trying not to sound annoyed when Fives and Hardcase’s voices immediately launched into talking about something about karaoke night.

“Okay, hold on, one at a time, I don’t speak gibberish.” I finally barked, gritting my teeth when a couple of the other customers shot me an irate look.

“It’s karaoke night at the 79’s tonight! Are you coming?” That was Hardcase speaking up.

“No? I have plans that I missed last night cuz I was too busy drinking with you lunatics. Besides, you know I don’t sing.” I lied through my teeth about the singing. I could sing like no one could believe but I got stage fright when it came down to it. Singing in front of people was one of my biggest nightmares.

“Oh come on Valks! Come join us!” Fives pleaded and I could just picture him pouting.

“Not tonight, okay? I’ve gotta roll. I’ll see you guys later.” I disconnected the comm and got up so I could head out to the Crypt. “Later Stets! Left your tip on the table.”

                                                           ~*~*~

  The Crypt was supposed to be like home, but walking in those doors, I sure didn’t feel like I was coming home. I felt as if I were walking into a tomb, the dark and dreary feeling weighing on my shoulders. Something wasn’t right, I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. Some of the other girls were sitting at the bar, pity flashing across their faces for a brief moment before looking away from me, focusing their attention anywhere else but on me as I walked past them. I could feel my stomach clench with nerves, my palms sweating as I slowly made my way to the room Grave and I would share while I was here on leave. Soft moans and the wet slap of skin on skin left me feeling ill as I reached out with a trembling hand to open the door, seeing Grave fucking the new girl. I didn’t make a sound, just shut the door and went to the dressing room, throwing my crap into a bag.

“Baby Doll?”

I didn’t even have to look back to know Daisy was hovering nearby, her face drawn and worried like it usually was when she was uneasy. “I’m fine Daisy. I already had a feeling something was going on, I was just trying to deny it. Good luck. I fucking quit.” I zipped my bag up and hitched it over my shoulder. My gut feeling was right, Koyi was right, Stetson and Ivar were right... and I was a fuckin’ dumb ass. “And you can tell that wastoid that I’m done.” I called to the other girls who were trying to act like they weren’t listening in over at the bar and walked out. I couldn’t fucking believe that I had gotten played like this. I mean, I could believe it, but at the same time, I was having a hard time wrapping my head around it. Tears burned in my eyes as I hopped into my speeder and headed back to my apartment to dump off this crap and so I could get ready for karaoke night after all.

“Koyi? You were right. I’m sorry. I caught him fucking the new girl, so I quit. I’m going home to change and then I’m heading to the 79’s for karaoke night cuz why the fuck not?” I breezed through my front door, locking it behind me and threw my bag of clothes from the Crypt across my living room, nailing the wall with a dull thud. He wanted to break my heart, then I was going to dress up and go have some fun tonight because I fucking earned it after putting up with so much these past few years.

Stupid son of a bitch. I hope his cock shrivels up and falls off. I stood there in my closet, staring hard at all of my clothes, trying to decide on an outfit. I wanted something easy to move in but still showed off every single curve I had. If Grave decided to show his face tonight, I was going to make sure he regretted ever using me and discarding me like trash. Now I just had to find the right outfit. Nothing was catching my eye so far, though. A flash of red drew my attention towards it and I smiled when I plucked the cute bright red mini dress off the rack and settled on that and a pair of strappy red heels to match. I grinned happily and quickly did my hair, giving myself some loose curls and studied myself closely. Everything looked perfect and I couldn’t wait to show off.

Perfect, I think I’m ready. I grabbed my leather jacket and took off, wanting to surprise Fives and the others since I’d said I had plans. Eyes followed me as I walked out of my apartment building and flagged a speeder down so I could get to the 79’s, smiling sweetly at the driver.

“Thanks for the lift doll.” I purred when we arrived, tipping him and blowing him a kiss.

“Damn, you’re not playing around tonight, huh?” Koyi was grinning widely as she practically skipped up to me.

“Nope, I’m definitely not playing around. I’m gonna have fun and I might even bring someone home with me tonight.” I chirped, smiling at some of the clones we passed, all of them whistling in appreciation. Koyi and I broke out into giggles as we entered the bar, weaving through clones and other civvies to get to the bar for drinks.

“Hey! Could we get four shots of Trandoshan tequila? Thanks!” I took the shots and passed two of them over to Koyi, toasting my best friend before downing them in rapid succession. “I think I’m gonna sign up to do karaoke tonight.” I glanced over at Koyi, reaching for the stylus so I could jot my name down, Koyi squealing with delight.

“You’re going to actually sing? You? In public! Oh I have to record this!” She was giddy at the thought and ordered us a couple more drinks so we could take them with us to find the 501st guys. Koyi spotted them first and tugged me with her as we weaved through the crowd, Fives and Echo immediately shutting up when they saw us.

“Holy -”

“Valkyrie?!” Jesse and Rex’s jaws dropped in shock, Cody smirking as he looked me up and down with interest. Two other clones I vaguely recognized nudged a couple other guys, nodding our way and I blew them a kiss, grinning.

“Hey guys. Plans fell through so I figured we’d join you.” I chirped, allowing Cody to pull me onto his lap, his arm warm around my waist. I draped an arm around his neck, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck with a playful smile tugging at my lips as he leaned back into my touch with a soft groan.

“And she’s gonna sing!” Koyi crowed, practically dancing in Echo’s lap. I rolled my eyes but smiled when the guys cheered excitedly. I’d always been teased for my humming when I worked, Kix always asking if they’d ever get to hear me actually sing, and tonight looked like it was gonna be the night.

“We’re allowed to record that, right? Cuz I am gonna wanna remember this night. Plus Kix is gonna be bummed he missed seeing it in person.” Fives joked with a loud laugh. As I opened my mouth to retort, my name was called to go up and sing my heart out. I slammed my drink back and got to my feet, my legs shaking as I made my way up there, hands trembling as I took hold of the mic. I swallowed thickly, forcing a smile onto my face as the music began and took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

“Hey, hey I'll let you walk all over me, me. You know that I’m a little tease, tease, but I want it pretty please, please. You know, you know, you know I’m crazy. I just wanna be your baby. You can fuck me, you can play me. You can love me or you can hate me. Miss me, miss me, now you wanna kiss me,” I began to really get into the song, swaying my hips and dancing along to the beat. “Choke me, 'cause I said so. Stroke me, and feed my ego. I’ve been a bad girl, don’t you know? Come get it, now or never. I’ll let you do whatever. I’ll be your bad girl, here we go.  Miss me, miss me, now you wanna kiss me.” I had all eyes on me, people dancing along and cheering, Fives and the others the loudest of all my admirer’s. I could feel my cheeks heating up at the applause and focused my gaze on Rex, who was watching with an intensity that had my stomach clenching with desire. He took a sip of his drink, smirking just slightly, and leaned over to say something to Cody, who nodded in response, his eyes never leaving me.

“Baby, you know I want a little taste, taste. So let me take you all the way, way. You know you’ll never be the same, same. One night, you won’t forget the rest of your life, so come on over to the wild side. Buckle up, and baby, hold on tight. Miss me, miss me, now you wanna kiss me. We both know that you love me 'cause I'm so bad. Choke me, 'cause I said so. Stroke me, and feed my ego. I’ve been a bad girl, don’t you know? Come get it, now or never. I’ll let you do whatever. I’ll be your bad girl, here we go.  Miss me, miss me, now you wanna kiss me.” I was looking right at the two, putting on a show just for them. It was as if everyone else had faded from the room, I was so focused on Rex and Cody. “I've been a bad girl. I've been a bad girl. I'll be your bad girl. I'll be your bad girl. I've been a bad girl. I've been a bad girl. I'll be your bad girl. A fucking bad girl! Choke me, 'cause I said so. Stroke me, and feed my ego. I’ve been a bad girl, don’t you know? Come get it, now or never. I’ll let you do whatever. I’ll be your bad girl, here we go.”  The sound of applause brought me back into focus, realizing I’d finished the song. I quickly walked out of there, my heart pounding against my chest with adrenaline and glee.

“Hey! You killed it up there!” Koyi found me and dragged me back over to the group. “I recorded it. Sorry not sorry, you are amazing and should be heard by the world.”

“Of course you did. Could you not share it, please?” I grumbled, shooting her a look.

“Too late, she’s already sent it to us.” Fives cut in with a smug grin. “I’m gonna listen to this all the time. Seriously, how could you hide those pipes from the rest of us?”

“It’s not that big of a deal. Drop it already.” I groused, tossing a crumpled up napkin at him. “I’m gonna go get a drink.” With a muttered curse, I went to go to the bar when Rex dropped a hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll go with you. I could use a new drink myself.” He chimed in, moving his hand to my lower back, gently pushing me through the crowd towards the bar. “You really do have a nice voice. It’d be nice to hear it more often.”

“Thank you, Captain. I, uh, usually don’t sing in front of other people. I get nervous and then clam up. Generally I have to have a little liquid courage in my veins first.” I chuckled, taking a seat at the bar. “You and Commander Cody seemed rather… invested in the song. Did I spark some interest?” I teased him, half hoping that maybe I had caught their attention. I could get behind the idea of a threesome with Rex and Cody, it would certainly be quite the ride.

“Baby Doll, there you are!”

My back stiffened up at the sound of Grave’s voice behind me, his hands going to my shoulders and I jerked away from him, getting up and stepping beside Rex, putting as much distance between us as I could.

“We’re done, Grave. I don’t know why you’re here, but I don’t want anything to do with you.” I snapped, yanking my arm back when he reached for it.

“You heard my medic, leave her alone.” Rex got to his feet, setting his whiskey glass down. “She doesn’t owe you shit and you have no business harassing her, so step off. Now.” There was a growl to his voice that sent a jolt of white hot fire down the length of my back and into the pit of my stomach, pulsing down between my thighs.

“This doesn’t involve you, clone. This is between me and her.” Grave spat, not even looking at Rex as he spoke. “Baby Doll, c’mon, come back with me. I need you, babe.” He was pleading now, begging me to come back to the Crypt.

“No. I have nothing to say to you. I’m done, I’ve been done. Fuck off, Grave.” I slapped his hand aside, lip curling into a sneer.

“You stupid slut, should have known those rumors were true.” He snarled with venom dripping from his words. Next thing I knew, Rex was slamming a fist right into Grave’s mouth, sending him stumbling back into Cody, who had come up to see what was taking us so long. Cody immediately had Grave by the scruff of his shirt and tossed him aside with a snarl, glaring daggers at Grave.

“Hey, whoa, no! He’s not worth it!” I quickly stepped in, resting a hand on Cody and Rex’s biceps, not wanting them to start any fights. “Come on, let’s just go back to the others.” I pulled my lip between my teeth, looking back and forth between the commander and my captain anxiously.

“Come near her again and I’ll break your jaw.” Rex warned him before grabbing his whiskey and my hand, leading us back to where the others were. Koyi and Echo were nowhere to be found while the others continued to crack jokes and drink, Hardcase getting up to go sing while Fives and Jesse laughed about his enthusiasm, cheering their brother on. Rex pulled me into his lap, arms wrapping around my waist, holding me to him somewhat tightly and pressed his lips to the nape of my neck in a fleeting kiss.

“Where’d Koyi go?” I called over to Fives with a slightly puzzled look.

“Her place with Echo.”

“Oh. Oh! Oh. Damn, get it girl.” I shook my head, laughing when I realized what he meant. “Well, if that’s the case, I’m gonna head home, too. It’s been a long night and I have some better alcohol at home I want to get into. See you guys around.” I carefully detached myself from Rex’s lap, shooting him a smile. “Hey, no bar fights okay? Just leave Grave alone if you see him hanging around.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Cody offered quickly, getting to his feet with a nod to his guys. “I’d feel better knowing you got home safely just in case.”

“That’s sweet of you, thank you Commander.” I took his offered arm and bid farewell to everyone else.

“I’ll tag along. It’s on the way to the barracks and I’ve got some paperwork I should finish up.” Rex polished off his drink and fell in step with Cody and I, the two of them keeping an eye out for Grave as we left the bar.

[apple-grass-and-smiles]

Not Even That Hard

Summary: When you're the Chosen One it is only natural for things to come easily. 

Links: Ao3 and FF.net

Author’s Note: Warnings for use of second person because sometimes a story pops into your head fully-formed and you have enough time to write it down or to convince your brain it should be in third person but not both. Also, warning for the double entendre inherent in this title/the recurring phrase throughout this story; it crossed my mind way too late and I’m not changing it. 

Dedicated to Liz/@bpdanakins​ who has spoken with me about so much Star Wars stuff and who also loves seeing Anakin get to be incredibly overpowered. Here’s a story where Anakin gets to be as overpowered as I could make him at 1:30 AM.

It wouldn’t even be that hard.

When you reflect back years later, that’s the first thing you can remember thinking. The memory is fuzzy and you’re not sure how old you are (4? 5?), but you very clearly remember seeing Watto and your mother trying to piece together some broken droid that has been causing him grief for the past hour at least. You can see exactly which pieces are supposed to go where and which wires are crucial and which can be cut and tossed aside. It would only take you a few minutes to have it back together and working better than it had before. You couldn’t explain how you knew that or why it felt so important that you fix this particular droid, but it did. So you got up, singled out the piece that would fit perfectly with the one Watto was currently holding, and went over to your master with the appropriate tool. The droid was fixed in just under 16 minutes. Watto let you and your mother leave a few minutes early that day and she treated you to a ruby bliel. You didn’t know that your mechanical skills would make you valuable to Watto for years to come or that fixing that droid had saved you from being sold off and separated from your mother. All you knew then and ever would, is that fixing droids wasn’t even that hard.

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“It wouldn’t even be that hard.”

After all, podracing was just flying but faster and the couple of times your mother had let you pilot Watto’s speeder had gone without a single crash. Surely podracing would come just as easily as those short trips around Mos Espa had been. After declaring that surely you could win a podrace, you could tell from your mother’s face you had said something wrong and from Watto’s that you had said something incredibly right. Your heart clenched for a moment because surely nothing good was coming when Mom made that face (admittedly, it would be better than what followed Watto’s disapproving face), but then the winning pod came around the final bend and crossed the finish line and your heart soared and you were filled with the certainty that podracing would not be that hard at all.

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It wouldn’t even have been that hard if it weren’t for the blasted autopilot, you thought as you hopped out of the yellow cockpit, ready to celebrate with the other overjoyed, if confused, Naboo pilots. Surely the professional pilots would have figured it out sooner or later. After all, you are only 9, almost 10, and had never been in one of those ships before and you had pulled it off. It would be crazy if they hadn’t been able to do it. But then you see Obi-Wan and he looks sad and Qui-Gon is nowhere to be found and something in you screams that now isn’t the time to say how not hard blowing up the Trade Federation’s ship had been.  

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“It wouldn’t even be that hard, Obi-Wan. Why don’t they just speed up?” Obi-Wan gives you a mixture of a confused and reproachful look, one you know means that he will have follow-up questions for you once you are out of earshot of the other padawans and their masters but that until then you need to stop saying such rude things.

Just as you had expected, the second you and Obi-Wan round the corner and can no longer see or be seen by the older padawans, Obi-Wan asks, “What do you mean, Padawan?”

“Well, their masters are telling them to double the speed of their lightsaber drills, but all of them start making easy mistakes once they speed up. Why are they making the mistakes? It’s easy to do those forms.” You don’t mean to sound prideful (Obi-Wan always reminds you that pride is not the Jedi way and you’re really trying to be a good Jedi), but you’ve sped up your own drills to four times the speed they were taught to you and you’ve managed to avoid making the same obvious mistakes that those much older padawans are making. Why couldn’t those beings just… not mess up?

Obi-Wan seems even more confused now that you’ve tried to explain your previous comment, but that doesn’t stop him from starting in on a lecture about pride and patience and how mastery takes time. You ignore most of it in favor of slowly moving back into a position where you can watch the padawans who keep making mistakes even though you know deep within your heart that surely it isn’t that hard.

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This isn’t that hard, you think as you look around you at the ship that is hurtling towards the planet below you. You’ve flown plenty of ships and been in quite a few crashes and keeping this particular ship from crashing should not be that difficult, even if it is more or less falling apart with each passing second. You look to your unconscious master in the seat next to you and the scared orphans behind you and then to the controls in front of you and despite the despair that you feel within the Force, you find that all you feel is confidence. This ship may be about to crash, but stopping it from doing so won’t be that hard.

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This is incredibly hard, you think as you try and try and try and keep trying to not kiss Senator Padmé Amidala. This is so incredibly hard.

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This won’t even be that hard. This won’t even be that hard. This won’t even be that hard. Your inner mantra as you lead your own legion into battle is at odds with everything else around you. Inside you know that you can easily weather the battle that is about to ensue, but you are equally certain that some of your men, perhaps many of them, will not. Christophsis is shaping up to not be an easy planet to take and the Force is practically screaming at you to prepare yourself for something big when Cody runs up beside you and points out the droids rounding the corner, ready for another round of battle. “They’re back!”, you call out to your master, already preparing to make a snarky comment about how you hadn’t wanted to send the ship back for supplies, all the while keeping up your refrain of ‘this won’t even be that hard’s in your head.

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“It won’t even be that hard, Snips. I promise.” You don’t have to turn around to see Ahsoka to know that she is shooting you her patented annoyed look that has become so characteristic of her despite how little time you two have spent together so far. You know that Balmorra Run is supposedly one of the more difficult runs a pilot can attempt, what with the Neebray mantas and all, but you’re Anakin Skywalker and surely it won’t be that hard. After all, you’ve never met a pilot who wasn’t at least passingly familiar with over exaggerating their flying prowess and you’re a Jedi Knight and have the Force to guide you and your men through. Surely it won’t be that hard.

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You thought ending the war would have been so much harder than it is turning out to be. Of course the operation on the Invisible Hand hasn’t been without its issues and you know killing Dooku was not the Jedi way, but if his death was necessary to bring about an end to the war, it will have been worth it. But even your concerns about Dooku are drowned out by the confidence that is coursing through your veins just as surely as your blood does as you, Obi-Wan, and Palpatine race back towards your rendevouz with Artoo. Soon the four of you will be together and will be able to defeat Grievous, get off this ship, and end the Clone War. Your final thought before you are trapped within ray shields is this: Turns out it’s not even that hard to end a war.

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It wouldn’t even be that hard.

You know exactly where and how you would strike to stop the lightning leaving Palpatine’s fingers and electrocuting Windu. You can think of half a dozen ways that would incapacitate, but not kill, your mentor and exponentially more that would rid the galaxy of the Sith once and for all. In terms of technical skill, stopping Darth Sidious would be easy. But your emotions are in control now, not your 13 years of lightsaber training, not the moral compass your mother instilled in you, not the countless hours you have spent in strategy meetings. In this moment it is the love you feel for your wife and your unborn child that is in control and that makes you pause and realize that it would actually be the hardest thing you have ever done to stop Darth Sidious from killing Jedi Master Mace Windu. (So you don’t. You choose to take the easy way out instead.)

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It wouldn’t even be that hard, you think as you realize exactly what shot the rebel pilot is trying to make to blow up the Death Star. When he manages to make it, you scoff because you could have done it from double the distance with triple the number of enemy fighters on you on a bad day.

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It won’t even be that hard, you think as you consider how you will get your son to join you to overpower Sidious. After all, he is your blood and there is nothing more important than family. Luke Skywalker will surely see that.

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It won’t even be that hard, you try to reassure yourself as you prepare to face your son for the first time since Bespin. You have imagined how you will meet him again countless times over the past year but somehow none of them included Luke turning himself in. It won’t even be that hard. It won’t even be that hard. It won’t even be that hard.

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It won’t be that hard, you think as you watch your master and abuser electrify your son while he pleads for your help. It has been many years since you last performed a kind, selfless act and you think that perhaps kindness is like a muscle that can atrophy, but as you move forward and throw your master off of your son whom you are just now realizing you loved more than you have ever loved anything else before, you find that the part of Anakin Skywalker that was selfless has not died, but instead been hidden away and kept safe for the moment it would be needed again. Thankfully, sacrificing yourself is nowhere near as hard as living as Darth Vader ever was.

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Joining with the Force is the least hard thing you have ever done and following Obi-Wan’s guidance for how to join him and Yoda on Endor to look over the Rebel celebration is only slightly more difficult. After years and years of each living moment being torture, this comes with an eery ease. Hmm.., you think wryly as you survey your two ghostly companions and those surrounding your children as they celebrate their victory, in the end balancing the Force wasn’t even that hard.

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Author’s Note: I can thank this story for being the reason that I learned ‘Nubian’ did not mean ‘from Naboo’ but is actually a reference to a completely different planet/system and it’s just a coincidence that people from Naboo fly Nubian ships and the two actually have nothing to do with each other. I now have to live with the fact that I’ve been assuming anything from Naboo was Nubian for over a decade, so that’s fun.

The bit about the Balmorra Run is from TCW 1x03.

But seriously, when was someone going to tell me that Jar Jar wasn’t wrong when he referred to the people from Naboo as ‘the Naboo’?

[bionicdragonguardian1]

Ranma 2/4

Yup... I’m doing it... yes this how I plan, shut up

Part One: Chapters 1-12

Genderfluid Ranma Saotome

Bisexual Akane Tendo

BAMF!Akane if it kills me

More modern America take on LGBTQIA+ themes

Bisexual Ryoga Hibiki

Fuck the Kunos

Full Series AU because I am a fool who doesn’t know restraint

Magic Rules are a thing

I am actually going to keep a consistent timeline if it kills me

I have a PLAN

Very Minor changes to the actual plot cuz economics

Bad Parenting is addressed

Harassment is Addressed

I will make them acknowledge Physics/Medical because I’m an asshole

Pulling from both the Anime and the Manga

Still working through the Manga as I plot

Friendly reminder that Genma is crap

Friendly reminder that Nodoka is crazy

Poor Mousse

Soun Tendo TRIES really hard but grief fucking sucks

Nabiki is morally grey

Toxic Shampoo

Kasumi gets Character Development or so help me

polyship cuz surprises

I promise I do love this anime

I’m just stunned that so many people didn’t get a lot of character development

Actual fucking ENDING

I do actually hate Shampoo tho

I watch dubs

Ranma slowly starts using they/them pronouns vs switching

Ranma wears a bra, fuck you

Yes I’m using 2020 LGBT stuff BUT I will keep the tech as close to the 90s as I can (tho fair warning I was BORN in the 90s)

Toxic Masculinity addressed (yes I mean Ranma’s)

Ranma is awkward as hell

bc that’s what happens when you isolate a child, Genma!

Also, they spent closer to 1-2 months in China bc of how many things happen while they’re there

Homophobic/Transphobic Language

Ranma uses Ranko WAY more often cuz it makes sense

Tatewaki is actually not as stupid as he is in canon, but he’s worse

Kodachi… on the other hand... IS stupid

Canon Heights are used (hence the “actual magic” tag, it’s how Kuno explains it and is still wrong)

Ranma is a shitty liar, and trusts his friends (kinda)

I’ve never like Shampoo, I don't hide that

While reading the manga I’ve realized how often Ranma wears a hat in the early chapters

I love it

Laws Exist

Rule Enforcement

Adults aren’t useless

Demiromantic Ranma

Ace/Demisexual Ranma (I haven’t decided yet)

Demiromantic Akane

Pansexual Ryoga

YES Akane is Bisexual AND Demiromantic. It’s a thing!

Genma is a sonnova bitch and piece o shit

Diasuke x Hiroshi

Sayuri x Yuka

Polyamory discussions

Hiroshi x Yuka

Protective Ranma

Protective Akane

Protective Ryoga

Tendos adopt Ryoga bc they care

Cologne sucks, I didn’t realize that was justified until now

Minor Anime over Manga Arc Choices

People aren’t oblivious those around Ranma a lot pick up on the transformation thing (eventually)

Ryoga’s crush on Akane turns into something normal, I may be ~Aro but even I know that’s bad

The “Akane Can’t Cook” Joke was funny once or twice; NOT the whole series Akane learns to cook

WAY fucking sooner than she did in the Anime

Look, I get the stereotype but it’s NOT funny!

Manga Chapt6Pt3 cover gave me too many ideas for what I want to do to Ryoga & IDK how I feel (Tiny pigtailed girl Ryoga is just too cute that I want to drop him the niángnìquán)

I will use Wiki-Mandarin-Spellings for Jusenkyo Springs cuz I don’t understand a lick of Chinese

Certain Arcs will be skipped entirely because I HATED THEM (any time they showed up)!

YEET Tea Ceremony Arc(s), mainly cuz an outsider I didn’t get it like I’m sure I was supposed to

If I could just kill Happosai I would, but I can’t

Expect him to be VERY dead/gone post-Canon

Fair warning tho cuz I hate him more than I hate Shampoo or Cologne

Shampoo still sucks

I wish the scene w Hiro/Dai was in the Anime cuz it’s hilarious

Ranma’s hat is back! I love it!

Is… is Ranma ADHD or is that me projecting again?

God, these two are hopeless dorks

Was someone going to TELL me that Ranma’s classmates figured out the transformation BEFORE the Romeo thing or was I just supposed to sit there stunned when it happened?!?

Goddammit, I hate Romeo and Julliet

I don’t mean the ep, I mean the play/movie/etc cuz my school years have done it 1.6 million times that I just can’t stand it anymore

Gosunkugi… wtf is wrong with you?

STILL hate this play

I’m American, ok

this has been shoved down my throat since I was 8 so It never occured to me that Ranma not knowing Romeo & Julliet at all wouldn’t be weird

Ranma learns his lines (kinda)

Kuno is 600% the reason they go off script

...And Gosunkugi being creepy af

TBH where they go off script (like Akane’s sleep scene) I’ll probs redo purely cuz I know this play

Still hate this play

Lol, tape ain’t a thing, that’s hilarious

Ranma kissing Kuno, yes

Akane kissing Ranma, NO

It’s called FAKING it

You either get over it or learn to fake it

Is it wrong that it’s tempting to get rid of P-chan in chapt8?

Don’t answer that… I know it is

Akane you need to learn to trust Ranma

Like seriously… that’s the 1 thing that drove me batty

100% going for the Anime version of the Japanese Speong of Drowned Man cuz it’s funnier

(I’m still tempted to change Ryoga)

Since the Cookie thing came before any comment about Akane’s cooking (Anime) I just figured Ranma was like me and can’t eat a ton of processed sugar (yes, make you that sick) so... HEADCANON!!

But Ranma’s still awkward af talking about it

Yup, subbing out Sasuke for Gosunkugi

Ranma not realizing his dad was committing crimes NEEDS to be handled better

I see angst potential

Ukyo is def still cis-fem, that point at least works

Ukyo’s dad is NOT in the clear here

Friendly reminder that Genma TOLD Mr. Kuonji that Ranma had a fiancée

Jealous Ranma’s fun

Ranma… just cuz you’ve 6.5k fiancé doesn’t mean everyone does

I’m just saying, Ryoga only falls for Ranma

Is Ranma wearing a binder while cursed bad? I honestly don’t know…

Poor Ranma, I’d DIE!

Obvs changing the rules of the pill from “first person of the opp sex”

I’m thinking “first person you’d be attracted to” cuz it’s nice and inclusive and won’t make someone fall for someone they wouldn’t normally

I’m just tryin’ to avoid some gayboy from fallin’ for a girl or some straight girl fallin’ for a girl

I mean Ranma’s still gonna Insta Cologne

Rule gets stricter the longer the pill lasts

also incest needs to be excluded

Look, I am NOT condoning Mousse’s obsession

but Shampoo still sucks

Is me making Tsubasa mtf bad?

Someone tell me cuz I’m not sure

I think I accidentally made Ukyo transphobic… oops

Redemption? Hopefully, idk yet

Do you realize how much anti LGBT shit I have to work through?!?

Tsubasa’s issue is 600% that she’s a lesbian so Ranma being a guy (even sometimes) weirds her out which for the record is FINE since they haven’t been dating at all & Ranma didn’t tell her!

The ½ white ½ brown dog IS actually Ryoga’s?!?

I didn’t know I needed this!

Also she’s staying!

Is Sasuke an Anime character?!?! Idk how I feel about this…

Ranma is a little shit & I love it

My idea may’ve been wrong (and Ranma!) but I love the idea had that I’m tempted do it anyway

Alright, Ranma is def going too far… even I can admit that

I’m quite sad this arc wasn’t animated

I don’t know which one I want! Kuno sick vs sneezing cat?

I can’t pick!

They’re both perfect!

Yup, Shampoo is evil

Akane… tone down the weapons kay?

[pollylynn]

Blackwing 602: Chapter 5—A Caskett Season 2 Multi-Chap of Indeterminate Length

A/N: Ever been trying to write something and you need your characters to just cross a damned room and they won’t? Yeah, just asking. No reason. IChapters 2, 3, and 4 are here on Tumblr. Chapter 1 is on AO3.  If you don’t want to read the first part, all you need to know is that in “A Chill Goes Through Her Veins” (1 x 05), Beckett pockets what turns out to be a very expensive pencil when she’s in Castle’s office. This is technically just after Love Me Dead (2 x 09), but this doesn’t have anything to do with that. 

Title: Blackwing 602, Chapter 5 WC: 1100

The outer velvet box, flocked with ravens, opens with a shunk as the top separates from the bottom. Home, far later than she should be, she sets the top aside on her desk. The bottom rests next to it, with its own nested box still snug inside. 

That’s how things stand for a while after Hallowe’en—a while after the party. Then the day comes, windy and cold, when she tips the inner box, watered silk and tied tight with an intricate bow, out of the bottom. And again, that’s how things stand for a while.  

She doesn’t forget about the contraband inside—the stolen property she means to make a gift of—any more than she’d forgotten about it for the months that she’d left the thing itself sitting at the far back of her desk drawer at work. But it’s not the focus of so much attention. It’s not the focus of any kind of ritual, daily or otherwise. Unless leaving that intricate bow—that fancy contraption—intact is a ritual. 

It might be a ritual. 

Its time has passed. That’s what she thinks whenever she happens to take in what now seems to be the funeral hue of both boxes, the embossed outline of each velvet raven. It all seems ominous now, not silly and festive and right as it had before, but she knows the change is in her. She knows it’s the month, it’s the weather, it’s everything. 

It’s proximity to her birthday and the way the end of another year hastens toward her. It’s the holidays she won’t celebrate for the tenth year running, and she doesn't resent that. Really, she doesn’t. Thanksgiving, Christmas—she knows her place in it all and there’s not a single person rushing out of the precinct in a loud tie, an ugly holiday cardigan, an ill-fitting football jersey that she resents.  

But after that—after the last calendar page flips—it will be. . . more than ten years. From now on—for the rest of her life—it will always be more than ten years since her mother was in this world. She will pass out of her twenties, sooner rather than later. She will enter her thirties and another decade without her mom. 

She looks at her hands all the time now. At home and at work and everywhere in between, she looks at them and she can’t help counting each finger. Whether she’s typing or bumping the plastic curve of the vending machine with the side of her fist, whether she’s deftly wielding chopsticks or curling five fingers around the grip of her gun and bracing with the other five to face down a paper target—she can’t help thinking that they’re not enough. They’ll never be enough again to count off all the years it’s been. 

She’s in her own head. It’s not unusual for her, for this time of year, it just feels that way. She snorts aloud when she catches herself thinking it. It is what she feels it is. That’s the profound-sounding truth she finds herself contemplating in the waning hours of her birthday, also known as Any Given Tuesday. 

She’s had a call from her dad and cupcake from Lanie. The boys and the Captain know better than to even mention it, but Lanie is irrepressible. He—Castle—is surprisingly repressible. Surprisingly repressed. 

At home again, far later than she should be, she sits with her chin propped in her palm and one elbow on her desk, and she contemplates that, too. Music comes low through her computer’s speakers. The five inadequate fingers of her left hand toy with the trailing end of the ribbon around the watered silk box, and she contemplates the fact that her birthday has all but passed without a word of acknowledgement from him. 

He had clearly known it was her birthday. He’d been repressible—repressed—all day, not dead. He had jogged his knee and opened his mouth, then closed it. He’d looked expectantly at her, then looked away every single one of the thousand times she had caught him. But he hadn’t said a word, slipped a clandestine card beneath her desk blotter, ordered something ridiculous and timed it so that she’d find it on her doorstep, late in the day. 

It’s surprising. And it’s satisfying in a strange way that suits the two of them. It’s him reading the room—reading her and where she is. It’s him, for once, not pushing his way into every corner of her life, but not withdrawing, either. It’s him being . . . present on her terms. It’s shockingly mature and respectful. 

And it’s lonely. 

Tonight with five inadequate fingers drumming against her cheekbone, five inadequate fingers toying with the ribbon of an intricate bow whose moment has passed, it’s lonely. 

She tugs on the end of the ribbon in something more than frustration. The intricate bow comes undone. The watered silk sides of the box fall away with satisfying immediacy like the walls of a magician’s box. But rather than laying bare a space devoid of the lovely assistant in her fishnet tights and sequined body suit, they reveal the gleaming ebony barrel. 

It’s an odd thrill to see it again, to feel it in her hand. It tugs her backward in time, just over two short weeks, two long, grey weeks. 

The Bat Cave! 

She hears his voice, bright and pleased that she wasn’t mad, that she remembered that first time, that the party was not going to end on a sour note between them. She feels the warmth of her own grin, because she’d been pleased, too. She’d been eager to mark the occasion—to celebrate . . . them, she supposes. Their partnership.

She’d been eager and she still is. She taps the eraser on the splayed out inner surface of the tiny magician’s box. She glances at her watch and sees that the last few minutes of her birthday haven't quite ticked away yet. 

It’s too late to call Lanie, and she wishes it weren’t. She has a favor to ask and it’s going to sting a little. It’s going to involve some mumbling, some blushing, some swallowing of her own pride, and if it weren’t very definitely too late right now, she’d just as soon ask it tonight. 

In the meantime, though, she presses the sharp, silky point of the pencil against her fingertip. She smiles to herself and envisions it, transformed. She whispers to herself—The Bat Cave—and wonders how early is too early to call Lanie in the morning. 

She’s still eager.  A/N: Blame having tricked myself to running nearly 7 miles in the snow with snowflakes attacking my eyeballs? It suddenly occurred to me that Kate’s winter headspace and rituals would kick in right after Hallowe’en. I think there’s probably just a chapter or two after this.