#they’re just so pretty and the pants he wears makes his them look phenomenal | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cockasinthebird · 4 years ago

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So so so long ago, I told the dearest @opaldraws that I would write her a fic for her Instagram Steve au, which is one of my favourite aus because he so would have a huge following and post gorgeous lavish pics of himself with all that his parents’ money can buy, and I did start writing it! Only it took me, say, half a year or more to finish it??

So here you go! To Opal and every other reader, I hope you enjoy!

His oversized shirt a dusty rosa, fuzzy and just a bit too long in the sleeves, the neck of it slipping down to expose moles dotting one shoulder. Skinny jeans in a light denim hug his legs like they were sewn for him specifically, it’s a wonder to behold.

Steve is warm and cozy inside, lying down on a daybed, surrounded by pillows, posing in front of large windows peering out onto the frozen forest, barren and covered in snow. Hawkins is brutally cold during the winters; so unforgiving that the photo shoots they do outside are thankfully scarce, even though Steve would work himself sick with a cold.

If it wasn’t for Billy and his stern insistence, Steve would have gotten frostbite seven times already this winter daring to wear just too little for the sake of fashion and aesthetic. Anything for his 800k followers.

But all his adoring boyfriend can really do most of the time is stand behind the camera and appreciate all of Steve’s gorgeous self with an all too satisfied sigh, as Steve glances over his shoulder at the camera, lashes done up with just a gentle hint of mascara, hearts scattered like freckles across his nose and cheeks.

Valentines is two weeks away by now, and Steve wants to show off and inspire some date looks, soft and delicate and beautiful. He never does anything with his hair, really, everyone already so jealous of the phenomenal floof of it that he wouldn’t ever dream of changing it now - the pastel aesthetic and his hair is practically his entire brand!

He poses on his stomach with his legs bent, feet kicking in the air, sleeves pulled over his hands as he smiles coyly.

Then he’s on his side, chest turned towards the camera, one leg bent with an arm draped over it, face turned away to give the perfect profile.

And then he’s on his back, head hanging over the foot end of the daybed, hair just grazing the floor as he looks directly into the camera, eyes big and brown.

Just like Bambi, is the oft used comparison by Billy, and even if this is slightly boring, he can’t help but smile at how utterly beautiful his boyfriend is.

He stays kneeling there, even as he lowers the phone to meet with Steve’s gaze directly, and all the same, Steve stays hanging there, smiling at the way Billy stares with adoration.

“What?” he huffs incredulously.

Billy doesn’t find words to respond right away, he’s always more adept with action instead, and moves in to kiss those perfect lips, so soft and pink, both of them smiling into the embrace, Billy’s hands smoothing across Steve’s cheeks, careful as to not ruin the makeup.

“I just… love you,” Billy hums with closed eyes, not giving Steve time to miss him.

And Steve laughs again - a sound so blithe and full of joy it’s invigorating and humbling. He reaches up to run his fingers down Billy’s golden curls, raking painted nails across his scalp and tugs there gently till he receives a delighted groan.

At the parting of lips, Steve dives in with his tongue, meeting Billy’s in a lackadaisical sense that urges forth affable moans from both, heat surging up and down Steve’s splayed out shape with every salacious little noise.

“Mmmh, ah… are you- are you done?” Billy whispers, travels away from lips to kiss along Steve’s freshly shaved jawline.

There’s no immediate response as Steve stays still, enjoying the praising kisses like gentle butterflies. He eventually grabs Billy by the sides of his face to guide him away, letting their eyes meet, staying there for seconds too long, admiring the ocean view; crystal clear waters brimming with love.

“Just getting started,” he chuckles once more, but the intent of it this time far more salacious, and Billy’s quick to catch on to that.

Steve rolls around in a rush and gets up on all fours, back arched beautifully, the large sweater hanging loose off of him. He bats his lashes at Billy, who can’t help the insanely cheesy grin spreading from ear to ear, before reaching down to yank at the belt loops of Billy’s jeans, beckoning him to stand up.

And Billy would never dream of not giving his princess what he wants, getting up on his feet only to bring his half hard cock straight into Steve’s eyesight.

A pleased hum roams around Steve’s chest as he slowly undoes Billy’s belt, gazing up with a sly little smirk as he pops free the button and lets the zipper run loose. When fingers curl around the denim to pull down his pants, Billy himself grabs the hem of his shirt and throws it over his head and away, never-minding where it might land since literally nothing else matters right now other than the way Steve’s licking his lips.

“Look so good for me, sweetheart,” Billy coos and gently pushes away the few locks that obscures Steve’s pretty face. “Gorgeous.”

He knows that that’s all Steve wants to hear - that he’s pretty and beautiful and gorgeous and attractive and desired, and Billy knows that flattery will get him everywhere, but even if he sought no boon, he’d still spend every single day of his life praising his boyfriend endlessly, and he plans on doing just that till there’s no more breath in his lungs.

But right now it proves most helpful in urging Steve on, leading him to run his open mouth along the thick outline of Billy’s trapped cock, tongue out to wet the fabric of his black trunks, up to the tip where he nibbles with lips around the head, lapping at where pre cum stains.

The euphoric sensation can be heard in Billy’s stuttering breath, seen in the manner his abs twitch with restraint, felt by the hand tugging in dark locks of hair.

Steve teases the elastic band of Billy’s underwear as he moves further up, dipping his fingers in and running them around the waist, lips just inches above to kiss the warm and taut skin. At an all too torturous pace he pulls down the fabric just enough to expose Billy’s flushed and steely cock, Steve’s lustful gaze following a throbbing vein from the shiny head to the waxed base.

He leans in to press his nose against the fresh skin, inhaling the musky scent deeply, planting wet kisses on every inch within reach, and finally wraps his fingers around Billy’s all too eager erection, the blushing bride nail-polish pairing well with the red of his hard cock.

“Stevie…” Billy breathes his name reverently, filled with lust and devotion, hands petting soft hair.

And Steve gazes up through his lashes at the amorous whisper of his name, taking in how intently Billy watches his every movement. Eyes locked together like this, Steve slips out his tongue to wet his lips till they’re shiny and slick with spit, then presses it flat against the side of Billy’s girthy cock, licking the entire length of it, all the while admiring how his boyfriend gasps and moans at the sight of a most salacious display.

“Fuck, baby,” his voice airy with anticipation.

The hand around him squeezes gently and he can’t help the inevitable thrust as his body seeks more friction. Just so, Steve can’t help the self-satisfied and amused little hum either, mouth vibrating against the veiny shaft, which only worsens the situation for Billy even more as he practically whines,

“Shit, pretty boy, please.”

“Well…” Steve muses and runs the tip of his tongue over Billy’s leaking slit, slow and agonizing, treasuring the salty taste of him. “You did say please.”

He slathers up his lips with spit before closing them around the blunt head, pressing it up against his palate as he sinks all the way down to the base, sloppy in the way he massages every inch of hard flesh with his tongue, eyes fluttering closed as Billy reaches the back of his throat.

Steve revels in every single sound Billy let’s out, the drawn out notes of pleasure.

“God, ahh…”

With hollow cheeks he moves back to the head, tongue swirling around like he’s enjoying a lollipop, fingers back around the now shiny shaft to stroke all of his length that isn’t inside Steve’s mouth. Fast then slow, the pressure perfected in a way that proves just how often he’s done this. He drinks up every spurt of pre, twisting and turning his head in tact with his hand, allowing the occasional thrusts Billy can’t hold back.

Until fingers pull at his hair; hard and earnest enough to make Steve stop and move off, looking up at Billy with red and shiny lips, well used and oh so pretty, oh so enticing. He lets himself be guided up on his knees, meeting Billy where he bends over to kiss him, hungrily tasting how exquisite his own pre and Steve’s spit mixes sweetly together, thumb smoothing over his cheeks and down to drag at Steve’s chin, opening up his mouth to let Billy lick into his heat, suck on his tongue and lightly nibble at his swollen lip.

“Fuck, sweetcheeks,” Billy breathes out and presses their foreheads together, “I wanna cum in you so bad.”

A delighted hum bubbles forth from Steve’s chest and out through the warmest smile any one human can manage, and oh how pleasant it sounds when he says, “Go get the lube, then.”

Billy kisses his forehead once, twice, thrice before awkwardly waddling towards the doorway, struggling to step out of his jeans, then whipping around so fast his mullet snaps in the air.

“Don’t… get undressed without me…” he says most ardently with a raised finger for emphasis.

And before Steve even gets to answer, Billy’s pantsless; hurrying through the hallway, heading for the stairs and leaving behind a trail of his boxers and socks. It’s nice to know how comfortable he is here in Steve’s house, no parents around, no siblings or kids. Just the two of them in solitude together.

He can be heard upstairs, running with heavy feet from the stairs and into Steve’s bedroom, to the bedside table where he finds the bottle immediately, then runs back the same way he came from, till he’s standing once more in the doorway to the conservatory, in such record time he should maybe consider joining the track team come summer.

Slightly affected by running, he breathes out heavily, “Now… do continue…”

Steve’s smile goes wide, feels it burn in his cheeks as he leans down to yank off his socks, balls them up together and throws them at where Billy stands and receives a laugh in return of that.

“You’re impossible,” he says lowly and with a slight roll of the eyes, but Steve’s quick to bring a finger up to his lips and make a shushing sound.

Next the zipper runs free and Steve sits back down on the daybed to pull the skinny jeans off in a rather awkward manner, almost as if he’s vaguely refusing to give Billy exactly what he wants, but it seems inevitable when Steve then gathers his legs closed, the oversized knit sweater pooling slightly around where he’s seated, giving the illusion that he’s wearing nothing else, a shoulder still peeking out.

Billy’s gaze travels up Steve’s bare legs to where moles vanish beneath the rosa fabric, and when their eyes meet, heat clashes together between them with unspoken intentions.

Steve only breaks eye contact to look down at where Billy now starts slowly stroking himself, and he bites his lip at the sight of it, veiny and wet, electric lust coursing through him and down. Down to where he’s been oh so needy and hard for far too long now. And as he leans back, supporting himself with one hand on the daybed, he reaches for the hemline of his sweater, keeps his lip caught between teeth, eyes heavy and sensual as he watches Billy licking his lips in anticipation.

So simple in truth, when Steve lifts up his shirt just enough to give Billy a clear view of his lengthy dick, the outline of it perfect in white briefs, a wet spot forming at the head. Even from here Steve can hear the way Billy’s breath shudders, can hear how he pants and exhales.

“God, Bambi, what’d I ever do to deserve you?”

That gentle praise is all Steve needs, to be told he’s something to be deserved, something holy maybe, cherished and desired to a point where people can’t function. It’s like magic, and it works all those wonders, too, as proven by how Steve spreads his legs and lifts the shirt even higher, up and up till he pulls it over his head, ruffling his hair, but that doesn’t matter right now.

All that matters is Steve giving Billy what he wants, and Billy giving Steve what he needs.

Billy approaches him slowly, suddenly not finding urgency of importance, to then kneel before Steve like one would at a shrine. Kissing firmly with devotion he travels up the inside of pale thighs, giving attention to every mole in his path till he’s met with the leg of white trunks.

Much to Steve’s irritation, Billy skips right past the entire area covered still in cloth, and continues from where the elastic waistband hugs tightly, kissing his way across Steve’s abs, his pecs, collarbone, neck, chin, and instinctively Steve lets his mouth slip open as Billy’s tongue glides across his lower lip before dipping into a sweet and ardent kiss.

In the same moment of such pure infatuation as is found in between their lips, Billy’s fingers hook themselves on the border of Steve’s trunks, whom in turn lifts up his ass to allow for the elastic band to smoothly slip past and down his thighs, his wettened dick hitting his stomach with a lucid slap.

Billy breaks away for them both to gasp for air, to look down at where Steve is drenched in pre.

“So wet for me, princess,” he drawls alluringly, bringing one hand to wrap his fingers gently around Steve’s hardened flesh.

“Mmhm, fuck, Billy…” Steve coos in tact with the slow stroking of his cock, fighting the urge to thrust into the temperate fist, each jerk sending sparks up his spine, causing his thighs to shake.

And Billy kisses the euphoric furrow between Steve’s brows, his flushed cheeks, the moles there, his jaw, down the slope of his neck to bury his nose in the crook and inhales the lingering scent from his honey body wash.

Steve’s head falls back with whines and whimpers at the near lackadaisical stroking, far too little friction, agonizing, lovely. He tilts his head aside and brings a hand up to guide Billy till their lips meet, sloppy and loose kisses as Steve whispers most pathetically,

“Please, don’t tease me like this, Billy, I need you…”

“Then let me take care of you,” says Billy as he leans away to meet with Steve’s gaze, who nods with a sigh.

It’s a bit of a mess really, getting comfortable on the daybed that’s barely long enough for one adult to lay there, then with a billion pillows as well that spill onto the floor as Steve shoves them away to lay down flat against the cushioned seating. There’s limbs everywhere and a near kick to Billy’s face as they settle with him kneeling between Steve’s legs, but it’s all with a good laugh and wide smiles as nothing can truly deter their drive to be brought together like this.

“So gorgeous like this, sweet stuff, all for me,” Billy drawls, voice thick with how possessive he truly is.

Steve’s thighs fall further apart at that; how easy he is when subjected to Billy’s heated gaze that promises him everything, that lustful tongue that swipes across his lips, the hand smoothly slipping down the inside of his thigh, palm heavy and burning, inching closer and closer to where Steve is suddenly so starved.

The lube that gets drizzled onto Billy’s fingers is cold when pressed against Steve’s entrance, sending a wave of goosebumps up his thighs, eliciting a little shocked inhale from above.

“Cold?” Billy asks with a well humoured huff as he looks up.

“Cold,” Steve says like it’s an important statement, yet he can’t help but to smile at the way Billy chuckles lightly.

And when Billy kisses Steve’s inner thigh all apologetic, he can only hum pleasantly, and when the tip of a digit goes in, moan. He drops his head back and onto a pillow as Billy continues to move his finger deeper and deeper, down to the knuckle just to pull out again without pause, setting a gentle and slow pace of thrusting his middle finger in and out of Steve’s lubed up, clenching hole.

“Mmh, ahh,” Steve breathes out loud as he melts like butter, mixing with the way Billy kisses soothingly up and down his thigh.

It doesn’t take long before Billy’s confident that Steve can take another digit, and is proven right with the, “Yes, God,” that spills from parted lips with a satisfied sigh. Billy loves watching how easily his fingers slide in and out, loves listening to the moans that grow louder when he curls the two fingers inside, loves feeling how Steve’s body tightens around him whenever he finds that bundle of nerves and presses against it. How Steve’s entire body writhes in the pleasure of it, moving to seek more, as if he’s in charge here.

“Please,” he pleads.

“That feel good?” Billy asks with a smug grin pressed against soft skin, looking up in hopes of catching how Steve’s face crumbles as he begs.

The answer is a short, airy, “Yes,” as if longer words would steal from his moaning and keening.

He doesn’t get a third finger before Billy’s already lubing his girthy cock up, because he knows how Steve wants it; how he loves the slight burn as his body stretches around his boyfriend’s width. And in true fashion of that, Steve gasps almost ecstatically as Billy lines up the tip of his fat prick with Steve’s clenching, tight hole.

“God, please, yes Billy-” he rambles out until Billy starts pushing in and his words are abruptly discontinued to instead allow a loud and euphoric moan freedom.

Billy inches closer and closer as he stays on his knees, the daybed just the perfect height for such a salacious affair, like it was bought subconsciously for a good and thorough fucking. And lucky for them how alone and quiet it is out here, for surely everyone in Hawkins would hear how vocal Steve is when he gets pounded in bed, how he can’t shut up even now as Billy’s just about bottoming out, groaning at how Steve clenches hungrily around the base of his cock.

How beautifully Steve’s back arches as his body trembles, a hand up to grasp at Billy’s shoulder, his face buried in brown hair and soft pillows, from where he pants breathlessly as he adjusts to the welcome intrusion.

It’s all too tempting to just bend down and kiss up along Steve’s pale stomach, lick a heavy tongue across perky nipples that can be felt in the way his body twitches and his breath stutters, nibble gently at his jaw once more, before whispering out,

“You fit me so well, Bambi, like your body was made for me to love.”

At that, Steve turns his head to catch the awe and adoration in those crystal clear eyes, but as Billy pulls out just to thrust back in, his eyes screw shut with exhilaration once more, a loud, “Fuck,” escaping.

Billy grunts as he speeds up to feed the urgent need they both give voice to. But it’s not enough. Not enough until Billy climbs onto the plushy bench, pushing Steve up higher till they’re both fully up on the daybed with those long legs tied around tan hips.

With an iron grip on the frame above Steve’s head, Billy uses the leverage to slam into his boyfriend’s craving hole, skin growing sweaty as it slaps together between them, his other hand down by a hip to guide their bodies together.

Between curses Billy can’t help to let out sweet honey, too, “God you’re so good to me, baby, sounding like an angel choir when I fuck you like this.”

Steve’s hands both immediately land on either side of Billy’s head and pull him into a kiss brimming with love and desire. “I love you,” he speaks softly, like it’s his most cherished truth, “I love you Billy.”

And Billy can’t help the chuckle that brushes against Steve’s lips between kisses, as hearing this still shocks him, even after years of dating and having sex. It’s astonishing that someone this beautiful and magnificent can’t love a beast like himself.

He curls around Steve; wrapping both his arms around his back as he draws them both nearer, balanced together on the far too small daybed that creaks beneath their shared weight.

“Love how strong you are,” Steve whispers as he kisses Billy’s temple, his hand brushing through golden locks. It’s almost impressive how sturdy his words seem when he’s an otherwise whining mess of ecstasy and blithe curses. “Love how good you feel inside of me, ah-”

Billy keeps his nose pressed against Steve’s neck, breathing in how appetising sweat and body-wash mixes. Every single word pushes him closer to the edge, makes his hips buck and dick pulsate.

“I’m close,” he murmurs between kisses.

“M-me too, oh fuck, please, harder,” it spills from delicious lips and into Billy’s ear.

And who is he not to oblige such obscene pleas. With his knees firmly planted on the cushions, and at a pace that will leave him sore tomorrow, Billy gives his most beloved all that he can, the blunt head of his cock near bullying that golden bundle of nerves buried deep inside of Steve, who in turn can only cry blissfully.

It doesn’t take long before he’s cumming loud and ruthlessly, covering them both in hot white, his entire body tensing up to a point where he’s ardently milking Billy’s cock for all it’s worth, as he cums shortly after with groans and thrusts that slaps so hard it leaves Steve’s cheeks red with abuse.

It’s a short moment filled with warm explosions like fireworks as he pumps his remaining energy deep inside of his boyfriend’s ass, hugging him dearly till there’s no other sound that their laboured breaths.

Moments pass before Steve’s the first one to speak,

“I’m gonna be so sore in an hour after this.”

“Promise I’ll kiss it better,” Billy chuckles out and kisses Steve’s shoulder.

“You better,” comes the response and they both laugh joyfully at that, because yes, Billy is absolutely going to make Steve feel all better again soon.

#Harringrove #My Writing #Lemon #Do we still do that?#Also on AO3 #Is it obvious I stopped then came back to this?#I do worry so

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sarahjtv · 4 years ago

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BNHA Chapter 319 Spoiler Analysis: Found Family

Holy crap what a phenomenal chapter! This arc in general has been great, but this chapter might be one of my favorites of the arc. Not just because it focuses on Class 1-A (I’m so glad to see the kids again), but because of the growth we see in these kids in general especially Bakugo and Shoto IMO. Like, holy shit ESPECIALLY BAKUGO! I stand by my opinion that Bakugo is one of the best developed characters in the series. There’s so much I want to say about this chapter and I’ll try my best to do so if my poor injured left hand will let me 😭:

The chapter starts off with the first of 3 colored pages we’re going to get over the next few weeks to celebrate 7 YEARS OF MY HERO ACADEMIA!!! CONGRATS, HORIKOSHI-SENSEI!!! This series revived my love of anime/manga and really helped me in some really rough spots in my life. I will forever be grateful towards Horikoshi for bringing this series to life and blessing us with such an incredible story full of beautiful characters. MHA may be a little overrated, but I still think it deserves all the love it can get.

Anyway, the color page. It shows Uraraka, Iida (who has red eyes here, so IDK why the anime gives him blue eyes though I do think they work better for him personally *shrugs*), Shoto, Tokoyami, and Bakugo after basically figuring out where Deku went. Bakugo is shown tearing up his letter (which says something like “Thank you for being there, Kacchan”; there’s more but I can’t translate it 😭) and you can kinda see some bandage wrap around his arm where he was stabbed. Also, both Bakugo and Shoto still have some visible injuries on their faces and Bakugo’s hands, so they’re still recovering from the War. It’s a really pretty page in general and I can’t wait to see what the next 2 color pages are going to look like. I also kinda want Horikoshi to take a break after this too again so he doesn’t overwork himself. Maybe he’ll treat himself to the MHA: World Heroes Mission movie 🍿.

So, Shoto and Bakugo have figured out that Deku is most likely with Endeavor, Hawks, and Best Jeanist. Problem is that none of them are answering their phones. I like that Bakugo calls Best Jeanist “Pair of Denim Pants” 😂 and Shoto’s image of Endeavor is still a very angry version of his old man. Shoto’s still making amends with his father, but he’s still not THERE yet. Regardless, these kids are smart enough to know that something’s up. Especially since All Might hasn’t returned to UA either.

It’s basically confirmed by Ojiro that because classes have been suspended, our Class 1-A kids are still 1-A; they haven’t moved into their second year yet. That clears up the confusion on whether we should still refer these group of kids as 1-A still or not.

Now Bakugo’s showing how much of a genius he really is despite his personality. Bakugo figures out that the Top 3 and All Might are working together as a group based on how they all connected with each other back at Central Hospital. Also, Bakugo concludes that All Might snuck Deku’s letters under their doors while Deku started running. Ultimately, Bakugo does know more about Deku and All Might more than anyone else does. He’s been around his childhood friend and he’s admired his idol longer than most people have. Bakugo understands how bad the situation is and he’s ready to take action.

As are the other kids. You can see how determined they are and you can see Kirishima’s black roots coming in 🥺! Even Uraraka gets some shine here by bringing up the idea to trick Endeavor to come via getting help from Principle Nezu as Endeavor was a UA student. It’s really interesting to see Ochako in a more serious roll than usual, but I actually like it. I hope she’s still as bubbly as she always was at the end of the day, but she’s definitely matured and grown a lot over the corse of the series. Even the simple things like her hair show it as it’s not as floaty as it was before. I love it when Horikoshi shows small details like this. It adds to the characters and stories a lot. Also, the art in this chapter is amazing.

And now it’s Endeavor vs. Class 1-A in a much needed conversation. All the kids are wearing their school uniforms to make this as formal and serious as they can. EVEN BAKUGO IS PROPERLY WEARING HIS TIE YOU KNOW SHIT’S ABOUT TO GO DOWN!!! And, I must say, Bakugo looks damn good with a tie 😳. You can also get a decent height measurement on the kids here if you want. Ngl, sometimes I forget that Shoto’s about 2 inches taller than Bakugo. It’s definitely the hair.

Shoto’s the first to step up and he scolds the hell out of his old man. Rightfully so tbh. Endeavor shouldn’t have ignored Shoto’s calls even though I kind of understood why. Shoto reminds Endeavor of their plan to stop Dabi though thankfully that’s what’s pushing Endeavor forward so he hasn’t forgotten. Shoto calls his father “Endeavor” and gets mad at him fro leaving Deku and All Might alone. The rough translations say he called Izuku “Deku” here too btw. Endeavor has no response. I think this anger Shoto’s unleashing is very justified and has been burning inside him since Deku left UA. His best friend just up and left him and his friends with nothing but a letter to kinda explain things. Also, Shoto and the rest of 1-A (minus Bakugo) have basically been lied to for about a year. I’d want answers too if someone did that to me.

Bakugo steps in by putting a hand on Shoto’s shoulder (🥺) to calm him down a bit and to say his piece. Ultimately, he thinks what Deku is doing is right, but that the way they’re all doing it is wrong. I love Deku and All Might, but they’re sacrificial idiots. They care more about others than they probably ever will themselves. That’s how All Might lost his OFA in the first place. It’s because of that that All Might doesn’t have it in him to stop Deku from going down this path. They shouldn’t have been left alone. Someone should’ve kept a closer eye on them. I know the Top 3 were all worried about getting too close to Deku before, but really, someone should’ve been watching them closer on the sidelines.

The next page is a really cool drawing of Endeavor flinging his phone to the kids to catch. The previous panels showed Endeavor with this face that’s regretful and I think he realized something: That Bakugo is right and that the kids might be better off finding Deku than he is. So he basically gives the kids his GPS on his phone. Those are just my thoughts, but it does look like that. I don't think Endeavor’s just going to up and give up though. He’s probably going to start rethinking things though.

As Sero manages to catch Endeavor’s phone, he and the rest of the kids think about how even though they’ve only known Deku for a year, they still think of him as family and cannot let him go down this thorny path alone. They’ll carry the OFA burden with him if they have to. They can’t smile without Deku around. These kids truly have become a family over the year. It’s amazing to see. Everyone’s like a brother and sister and it’s really nice to see. I just love Found Family stories, guys 😭❤️

And really quick, I want to focus on my ❄️🔥 boy, Shoto, really quick. As he’s thinking about Deku, he mentions how shocked he still is about Deku keeping OFA from them and how Deku thought just a letter would suffice. He has this sad look on his face like he’s trying to say: “I still can’t believe my best friend hid this from me for so long. Why? Did he not trust me?” That’s just my interpretation. Still, I can’t imagine how upset Shoto must feel. I think he still cares a lot about Deku enough to go out and find him, but he’s gotta feel some sort of betrayal. More so than the other students outside of Bakugo because, again, Deku was essentially Shoto’s best and closest friend 💙😭

Endeavor is rightfully worried about letting the kids out in the state of Japan right now, but now Principle Nezu speaks up and praises the kids on growing up so well. He’s also took into account Deku's feelings about his mission which is why he agreed to the team up. Also, Deku’s still welcome back to UA whenever he wants thank god ☺️. He’s a student who has to be protected. There’s a cute panel of Uraraka and her mom crying happily after getting her acceptance letter too. Not 100% why this is shown other than Acceptance Letter part, but it’s cute to see. Maybe Ochako realizes how much Deku needs to be protected or something.

As for the refugees, Nezu had the security system strengthened in time for the Cultural Festival earlier, but they never used it before. It’s call The UA Barrier. God, how strong is this thing? Is it strong enough to stop Shigaraki who was able to Decay the last barrier? This seems like something that’ll be used in the final battle TBH.

So, Nezu trust the 1-A kids to bring Deku back home. Which is exactly what they plan to do as all 19 of them enter Kamino in a badass full page. I actually wasn’t sure if all 19 of them were there at first since I couldn’t find Shoto for the life of me, but then my eyes saw the BIG-ASS ICE WALL IN THE BACK AND I THOUGHT “OH THERE HE IS!!!” LOL 😂

The next panel actually does show Shoto with Momo as they capture the villain from the last chapter. Momo politely calls Bakugo “Bakugo-san”, but Bakugo demands that he be called his insane hero name: “GREAT EXPLOSION MURDER GOD DYNAMIGHT”! I CAN’T WITH THIS DUDE SOMETIMES WHY DO I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 💥🧡

Deku sees his friend and wonders why they came. Ochako answers because that they were worried about him, but Deku tries to convince everyone (including himself) that he’s fine. He’s obviously not and Bakugo calls TF out on him! He even drops a good F-bomb for good measure. Bakugo mocks Deku for trying to act like All Might and asks Deku if he can even smile right now. I actually really like it that Bakugo’s calling Deku out on his shit. I think Deku needs some good tough love right now to knock some sense into him. Who would be better to do that than Katsuki Bakugo himself?

As Deku is trying to convince everyone that’s he’s fine (while still looking like a demon btw), there’s a small focus on Iida. Actually, a few panels this chapter have focused on Iida. Maybe he’s remembering the time Deku saved him back when they went up against Stain. Deku saved him then so it’s now Iida’s turn to save Deku. Also, Iida hasn’t gotten much focus lately and I really like his character, so I’m glad he’s being brought back to the forefront again. Also, I like hearing Kaito-san’s voice in general so I’d be happy to hear him again (thanks for that one, Haikyuu).

The final spread shows Deku telling everyone to move away while Bakugo, Iida, and Ochako get ready to stop him. IT’S DEKU VS. CLASS 1-A!!! WE’RE ENTERING CIVIL WAR FOLKS!!! Seriously, though, this is great. I was thinking that it would be just Bakugo and a few other students finding Deku. Instead we got the whole class. And looks like that “helping hand” thing will happen later because we got a battle to fight first.

Bakugo’s become a damn fine leader and I love to see his growth every freaking time🧡! I like how Iida has his hand on Bakugo’s back to support him btw. It’s weird that Shoto’s not in this page though. He’s one of Deku’s best friends, so I would think he would be in this page along with Bakugo and his first 2 friends (Ochako and Iida). Maybe Horikoshi’s saving Shoto for a more 1-on-1 conversation with Deku. God, I hope that happens because I think along with Bakugo, Shoto deserves a good talk with Deku the most.

Honestly, I’m not sure who would win this battle. I’ve been going through scenarios in my head on who would win, but I can’t come to a solid answer. Class 1-A has 19 versatile Quirks under their belt and they have more energy than Deku to fight, but Deku still has 6 insanely powerful Quirks that he’s been practicing for a while. The kids could probably win if they strategize enough and use Deku’s exhaustion against him, but again, Deku has OFA and multiple other Quirks. If he could beat Lady Nagant, one of the best snipers around, he might be able to beat the 1-A kids. He could just escape with Smoakscreen, Black Whip, and Float if he wants to really. That would put 1-A on another wild goose chase. There’s also Deku’s Danger Sense which will be a pain to deal with. Also, Deku said that he’s as strong as All Might was in his prime with Fa-Jin and OFA combined. Only AFO and Shigaraki were strong enough to take on THAT. Plus, we still don’t know what the 2nd OFA Holder’s Quirk is yet. Deku might use it in this battle. God, I have so many theories in my head now. I think this battle will be awesome, but ultimately, I want Deku to come home 😭💚

Me reading and loving My Hero Academia:

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theyscreamjade · 4 years ago

Note

Mkay, since I’ve seen you do big butt and small boobs or big boobs and small butt, let’s go the extra mile bc I KNOW I’m not the only one with big boobs (and I’m talkin DD’s) AND a big butt. Can you do this w/ Bakugo, Todoroki, Shinsou, and Kirishima?

The Double Whammy

WE ARE ENTERING SOME DEEEP SHIT! I mean deep! Extremely deep, please put your big girl pants on because I'm gonna get into the subject as deep as I possibly can because I can relate to this on a thousand levels. Let's go.

DISCLAIMER: NSFW AND CURSING.

——————————————

Eijiro Kirishima

* (I swear, I simp this man too hard.)

* Please acknowledge the fact that he’s a firm believer in respect, manliness, and more. So regardless, he’s going to love you for you and respect you as well, even with that disrespectful body god blessed you with.

* He’s the ultimate simp for you honey and you just don’t know. You see him for more than his insecurities as well and that’s more of a fuel within the relationship.

* Now, Don’t expect him to just let anyone say anything about your body, this includes even his Bakubro. You’re his pebble, he’s gotta protect you.

* Those guys who randomly try to ask you out at parties, restaurants, or even when you’re just inside the store and you’re just grabbing a few things, Kirishima will quickly shut that down.

* The only thing I’d worry about with him is his insecurities getting the way, the mere fact that he might not be enough for you. I mean, look at you. Can you blame him?

* This Red Riot isn’t as innocent as you think though, he loves it when you’re as close to him as possible. For example, when you’re hugging him and you’re breasts are pressed against his chest. It drives him insane while he can admire that gorgeous smile of yours.

* Strapless outfits are his go-to favorites on you, why? That chest is on full display yet your neck is open where those bites he creates a few days ago are being seen as well.

* Speaking of bites..you think they’re not going to be included? When it comes to samwiches, he isn’t picky but the fact that you have the best of both worlds just makes everything so much better.

* Just expect a lot of biting, the constant changing of positions, and more. You’ll be in a missionary first and then you’re somehow on the floor, getting carpet burn on one side of your elbows and knees while he’s holding your other legs, pounding you from behind.

* His favorite place for you two to do the nasty? His gym..but that’s for another headcanon.

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

Shoto Todoroki

* This might be the first time I go the left with Shoto. Trust me, He loves you. He really really does.

* He loves you for you and everything but he might be a bit hesitant about the relationship at first. Why? Because you’re wanted all the time by many guys.

* I know he’s wanted by thousands of girls everytime he simply walks into a room but you’re a real eye candy. With that, his father did the same thing with his mother. (Besides the fact that she was crazy powerful.)

* The another issue you two would have to face is basically him letting you handle yourself. Remember, he doesn’t want to push his boundaries and pause your independence because he knows you can handle yourself.

* That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t step in if he has to for a guy who doesn’t know when to take no for a answer, just hope he doesn’t commit a full blown murder in front of you.

* His favorite thing on you will still be tights, but remember you have a double whammy now. Top wise? V-Necks or really low shorts. Like the ones that are still sexy yet professional that makes you look like as if you’re Jessica Rabbit in a teacher’s uniform.

* If you want to kill him, during the next winter trip you two take, wear a pair of tights and a top that shows your cleavage. As soon as you attempt to put on your winter boots, you’ll be pulled right back in.

* IcyHot is still a fucking boob guy, don’t think he’ll ignore that junk you got though. He’s going to grip each part of your body while trying to control himself.

* Everyone’s going to wonder why he’s covered in scratches and hickeys.

* While you’re over here with frostbite and slight burns, covered with hickeys and lastly can barely sit down, all because of what you wore.

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

Hitoshi Shinso

* (They seriously need to use this guy more, he’s fucking great.)

* Please understand another fact here, he’s going to be skeptical about the relationship at first. You’re talking to a man who was told his quirk would be perfect if he was a villain.

* That’s insulting enough, but you know he was constantly judged and tormented as a child because of it. That and you’re an absolute pleasure to eyes.

* So, when the relationship first starts, he’s skeptical about your feelings and how you truly feel, don’t let that hurt you.

* Just reassure him that your feelings are genuine and true, then he’ll start to fully believe you.

* Of course, he’s going to defend you, but there’s going to be times where he might have to use his quirk.

* Which are for the guys who don’t know how to take no for an answer.

* Off-Shoulder shirts or sweaters. He loves it when it hangs off your shoulders but with those shirts, you’re often wearing a tank top underneath? That’s the true prize to him.

* Another thing he loves to see you in? Fishnets and stockings. He honestly prefers you to wear those instead of thigh high socks, the turn on of ripping them apart before he can have you begging for mercy with him.

* Samwiches with Shinso is every brats dream..

* He’s not stopping until you’re shaking uncontrollably, unable to say anything other than his name or pet name, and sweat is coating your body. That mattress will be SOAKED.

* I see that scarf of his being put to good use withholding those arms over your head and blinding you. He’s a trailer and not the park. He’s leaving his mark all over you, trailing all over your body.

* I mean everywhere too, from your thighs to your neck.

* That pretty neck of yours will be gripped while your ass is slapping against him from his hard thrusts.

* While the neighbors are wondering is this man killing you and where can they get one too.

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

Katsuki Bakugo

* This Silent Simp here is enamored by your personality..but was reeled in by that body afterward.

* Please also understand, when he’s supposedly ‘jealous’, it’s not because of you or even them. He’s just skeptical of those guys.

* You have his heart and he wouldn’t want anyone to woo you away from him, it’s one thing he doesn’t want.

* This also includes friends as well, meaning guy friends. He’s a guy and he knows how some will do to get to you. There’s no limit.

* Enough Angst though, let’s get to the good parts, Remember how I said booty shorts are something he loves? That and jeans. Skinny jeans to be exact. The way your ass looks phenomenal in them and yet there’s a little tiny slot of air right around you waist. Oof!

* Tank-tops! TANKTOPS! HONEY! I DOUBLE DARE YOU TO ATTEMPT TO WALK OUT THAT DOOR WEARING JEANS AND A TANK TOP, YOU WON’T EVEN MAKE IT OUT THE ROOM.

* Lastly....fight me on this, I’m ready for it. I’ll say it. *claps* leotards, like lounging bodysuits. You know the ones you usually wear under a pair of shorts but you just decided to stay home and wear socks with them?

* That’s gonna be your funeral. That’s it.

* Now, Samwiches with him..is like a combination of Hitoshi and Shoto as one.

* He love to bring you to your limits and go beyond. (I immediately thought of All Might and I’m disgusted.)

* While caring at the same time, one thing he’d never want to do is hurt you..but..he wants you to remember just who the hell he is.

* I hope you have soundproof walls because that clapping noise is staying like that until he’s done with you.

* And you’ve got five more rounds to go.

#my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia scenarios #i hope you like this #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha shoto todoroki #bnha ejirou #eijirou kirishima headcanons #kirishima eijirou #bnha shoto x reader #shoto headcanons #bakugo headcanons #kastuki bakugou #its for your own good #bnha shinso x reader #shinso headcanons

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comradelup · 4 years ago

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clouds and operas

Kravitz is waiting for him when he gets there. He smiles at Taako as he approaches and looks his outfit up and down.

“You certainly know how to dress up,” he says, then meets Taako’s face again. “I feel underdressed.”

“Because you wear suits all the time. You gotta learn to dress down.”

ao3

An opera. What a nerd. Who knew the grim reaper was such a nerd? Well, Taako knows now. And now he’s on a date with him. His second, to be specific.

After he heard that conductor comment he demanded to know more about it, since it was surprising to hear Mr. Work Accent was apparently so classy. Kravitz told Taako to dress formally for it, so he did.

His suit has a tailcoat jacket and it matches his pants. Powder blue and patterned with little white clouds. To drive it home, he’s wearing a yellow bow tie to represent the sun. It would make that shitty train wizard so jealous and is fancy as all hell. His hair… he doesn’t really know what to do with it. He cut it after, y’know, Glamour Springs, so it’s shorter now. It’s had time to grow back, no doubt, but it still isn’t at Taako Brand Length™. He pulls it into a low but tight ponytail at the base of his skull. The tail end of it barely reaches the bottom of his neck, but it’s the most “formal” hairstyle he knows. Plus it’s not like he can’t pull it off.

Kravitz is waiting for him when he gets there. He’s dressed in a fancy black suit like he always is, but it’s appropriate for this setting. He smiles at Taako as he approaches and looks his outfit up and down.

“You certainly know how to dress up,” he says, then meets Taako’s face again. “I feel underdressed.”

“Because you wear suits all the time. You gotta learn to dress down,” Taako says, using his umbrella as a cane as he starts up the stairs with Kravitz at his side. (Apparently the skeleton he lifted it off of had taste, because the umbrella’s fabric changes at the user’s will. Tonight it’s the same blue shade as his suit.) They join a steady flow of others into the building which is good, they aren’t late.

Kravitz has the tickets and hands them to the attendant, who gives Taako’s suit an impressed look. Taako doesn’t notice though, because—

“Why are you wearing gloves?” he asks Kravitz as they walk into the building. It’s fancy and has crystal chandeliers, but he’s giving Kravitz his attention.

“Oh!” Kravitz says as if just noticing them. It’s fair, Taako randomly brought it up. “I thought it’d be a little fancier? And uh,” He looks nervous as he says, “last time you said my hands were cold.”

Taako laughs and Kravitz looks more nervous. “That’s fair! That’s fair, I’ll give you that, Bones.”

Now Kravitz chuckles. “Bones?”

“Yeah, you’re a skelling-ton. You’re all bones under there.” Taako gestures to Kravitz with his free hand.

“So are you,” Kravitz says.

“Yeah but I’m not the grim reaper,” Taako says. They reach a grand staircase and start ascending.

“Fair enough.”

On their way up Taako gets a good look at the building. Dark green carpets and walls with gold accents, and hanging golden chandeliers that twinkle. It’s beautiful.

Kravitz says, “I’ve always loved this hall. It’s gorgeous.”

“Always?”

“Oh I’ve been around way longer than this place,” Kravitz says.

“Right, you’re immortal, aren’t you?”

“Kind of. After I died The Raven Queen let my soul live on as a bounty hunter under her rule.”

“So… immortal?” Taako asks, earning a small laugh from Kravitz.

“Guess so.”

They get into the actual concert hall and get to their seats. The seats are comfortable and pretty close to the stage, which is nice. Taako has no idea what operas are like though, so he doesn’t know what to expect.

Something must have shown on his face, because Kravitz asks, “Have you ever been to an opera before?”

“Nope,” Taako admits, trying to sound nonchalant. Part of him worries that he’ll look like an idiot here.

Instead of a joke or a look, Kravitz says, “Oh, then you’re in for a treat, this show is amazing.” He’s smiling like he’s excited. Huh.

“I’ll be the judge of that, Bones,” Taako says.

“…Alright.” Kravitz leans back into his seat, giving Taako a look. A daring and playful look. A look that says, go ahead and judge.

Taako feels his face darken, just a bit, and tries to match it with a look of his own. He says, “Alright.”

The show starts and Kravitz is right: it’s amazing. He’s not surprised, a place this pretty can’t pump out bad performance. Although Taako can barely make out what’s being said. Halfway through the show, he feels a hand grab his own and looks down to see Kravitz’s gloved hand holding his. The fabric is black, and it dampens the coolness of his skin. Not completely, Taako can still feel a lack of warmth, but it’s nice. He finds himself smiling at brown skin against black velvet before looking back up to the stage.

If he thought he couldn’t keep up before, Kravtiz laying his head on Taako’s shoulder made his brain blue-screen. Almost immediately he leans his head on Kravitz’s in return, and the show suddenly becomes even more enjoyable. As the big finale approaches, he can feel Kravitz squeezing his hand in anticipation and Taako squeezes back. They have death grips on each other’s hands until the show ends and they’re on their feet applauding with the rest of the audience.

Kravitz is practically floating with giddiness after they leave. They haven’t let go of each other’s hands, which Taako likes most of all. They’re walking… somewhere, Taako isn’t sure. He just wants to stretch his legs after sitting still for so long. Getting to listen to Kravitz talk about the show is a bonus.

“I know you said this is your first one so I don’t know what your expectations were, but that was phenomenal, even by my opera standards. And I’m not saying that to brag— I’ve been around long enough to see months worth of shows.” Kravitz sighs, shaking his head a little. “It really is a shame that that was your first show. Any other show you see will completely pale in comparison.”

“Well you better pick a good show next time then, Bones,” Taako says, and wow he didn’t mean for his voice to come out that soft. When he sees Kravitz’s slightly flustered expression, he ends up not regretting it.

“Next time?” Kravitz asks.

“Hell yeah next time,” Taako says. Duh, obviously. “That was fucking cool, I gotta see more.”

Kravitz just lights up. Who knew Death could look so lively? “Yeah, yeah I agree.” He brushes a dreadlock behind his ear. “I’ll look out for a show to top this one. Although I doubt there is one.”

“I trust you can surprise me,” Taako says, bumping his shoulder against Kravitz’s.

“I could say the same to you.” Kravitz bumps back. Then he stops and he turns to face Taako.

“What’s up?” he asks. Kravitz is looking away from him, at the ground or their intertwined hands.

“I just,” Kravitz looks up, into Taako’s eyes. “I’ve had a great time tonight. Thank you for joining me.”

Taako chuckles. “Course. I had fun too. Although,” he says, dragging out the word. For added dramatic effect, he taps a finger against his chin as he says, “this date could be even better if you ask me.”

Kravitz quirks an eyebrow, clear confusion written all over his face. “What do you mean?”

“This,” Taako says, then he closes the distance between them to kiss Kravitz. The hand not holding Kravitz’s goes to hold his shoulder. Kravitz instantly kisses back, his own free hand moving to Taako’s waist. It doesn’t last long though because Taako is soon breaking it, laughing a little as he moves away just slightly.

“What?” Kravitz asks.

“I… I forgot you were cold,” Taako admits. Instantly Kravitz looks super embarrassed and it makes Taako laugh.

Kravitz starts to stutter out an apology and Taako waves him off. He’s laughing with Kravitz, not at him, though he’s not sure if Kravitz can tell the difference.

“Wait, let me just…” Kravitz moves his hands off Taako to bring them to his face. Taako laughs again as Kravitz starts blowing into his hands to warm up his face. Kravitz starts laughing too, though it’s muffled by the hands over his mouth.

When they collect themselves Taako gently moves his hands away from his face. Holding both hands in both of his own, he says, “Let’s try this again,” and they do.

It’s much nicer. Taako could get used to this.

#taz #taz balance #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #taz fic #balance #taako #kravitz #taakitz #txt #writing #MY_BOYS.exe #i'd kill a man to be wearing a cloud suit at this very moment

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cloverhighfivewritestoo · 4 years ago

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Pineapple and Pizza

In which Cas meets Dean at the office’s happy hour and they fall in love right off the bat. Now they’re trying to take this to the next (sexy) step… Trying being the operative word here.

Start at the beginning Chapter 8 of 8 - Pizza and Pineapple 👉 Read it on Ao3 w/c - 1k

When Castiel came back to the apartment, it was late afternoon and he was exhausted. The place was quiet. He looked around, things were in their place. He went to the laundry room. There was a basket of folded socks, underwear and t-shirts. He smiled.

He went to the kitchen, see if there was a beer left, or preferably a wine cooler. As he opened the fridge door, his eyes widened: the fridge was full. “Holy…” He looked at the contents. Not his usual food, but he would do with what he had. He couldn’t believe it. When he texted Dean, Dean told him he had gotten some booze to watch movies. Seems he was doing more than that. The sneaky bastard. The kind, very handsome, sneaky bastard.

Castiel forgot about the wine cooler and fetched the basket of folded laundry to put away in his bedroom and get his button-down shirts for the next load. When he pushed open the door of his bedroom, he saw Dean, napping on top of the covers. Castiel smiled fondly. He whispered to himself, ‘I could do this every day.’ Castiel put the basket on the floor and sat by Dean. Smiling softly, he leaned down and lingered a kiss on his cheek. “Hey sleepyhead.” Dean opened his eyes, groaned, and stretched. He smiled. “Hey. You’re back.” “Yes. You didn’t answer my last text. I wondered what you were up to.” “I invited the repairman over. He wore me out.” “Assbutt.” Dean laughed. “Assbutt?” Castiel repeated, half serious, “Yeah. Assbutt.” Dean sat up and kissed Castiel. “Welcome home.” “I see you’ve filled the fridge.” “You’re welcome.” “And you folded the laundry.” Dean smirked. “Oh, more than that.” “What did you do?” “Look in the closet.” Castiel got up and slid the door open. All his shirts were cleaned and ironed, his pants neatly folded over the hangers. “You ironed my shirts?” “Yep.” “So you didn’t watch movies.” “Nope. Too busy.” Castiel slid the door shut and turned around. “Seriously, Dean, I… I don’t know what to say. You know you already have me, right?” “What do you mean?” “You don’t have to do all this to win me over. You don’t have to try so hard.” “I’m not trying anything. I’m celebrating the fact that I found you.” Castiel smiled shyly. “Really?” Dean winked and nodded towards the basket on the floor. “Check the laundry.” Castiel looked down. “What.” “Check the briefs.” Castiel took the pile of folded underwear and noted something unfamiliar. He took it out. “Pizzas. You got me briefs with little pizzas.” “I love pizza.” “Obviously.” “There’s another one, but they’re for me.” Castiel looked in the pile. “Pineapples? Those are for you?” “Yeah, cause you like pineapple and meat together, so might as well slap it on mine and wish for the best.” Dean winked and flashed his best smile, pretty proud of himself. Castiel laughed and shook his head. “Where did you find these?” “Stroke of luck. And you needed to replace those from last night, remember?” “I’d rather not remember, but yeah.” He folded them back and put them in the basket. “Thanks, Dean. You’re so kind to me. I don’t know what to say.” Dean extended his arm, caught Castiel’s hand and pulled him back to sit on the bed. He sat up and took him in his arms. “I’m happy to help.” “Thank you.” Castiel kissed Dean. Dean held Castiel closer and kissed him back, slowly. “Mmm this is alright.” “What?” “I like taking my time.” He came in again, planting little kisses on Castiel’s lips, and longer ones. When they broke off, Castiel remarked, “Seems there’s nothing in our way, now. We could…” he didn’t finish his sentence, but instead pushed Dean down gently on the mattress, and laid on him, kissing his neck slowly. Dean wrapped a leg around Castiel. “Took you long enough to lighten up.” Castiel stopped. “What? Did you do all that just so we could have sex?” Dean trailed his thumb across Castiel’s jawline. “Can you blame me?” Castiel sat up and straddled Dean. He put his hands firmly around Dean’s waist, pining him down in the mattress, and gave his hips a little roll against him. When he talked, Castiel’s voice was smooth and considerably deeper. “OK then. You’re in for a ride.” Dean’s eyes darkened. He swallowed. “OK.” Some time later, Castiel and Dean were out of breath, naked, lying on their backs. “Fuck, Cas, I really didn’t see that coming.” Castiel chuckled. “I’m serious. You’re not very flirty, you’re not… I don’t know how to say it. You’re… I don’t know… shy?” “The word you’re looking for is introvert.” “Yeah. Makes sense.” “Doesn’t mean I don’t have desires.” “Yeah. Holy shit.” Castiel rolled on his side to cuddle Dean. “Feels good to let off a little steam.” “That’s a little steam? Damn!” Castiel kissed Dean’s neck. “Mmm… I forgot to thank you for the laundry and groceries.” Dean held Castiel closer. “Oh I think you just did.” He kissed his forehead. “Will you allow me to thank you back?” “I must say, I’m a bit spent right now.” “Well, duh. But what about that steak dinner? They’re still marinating. They should be phenomenal by now.” “Mmmm… as phenomenal as you?” “Maybe. But not as phenomenal as you.” He kissed Castiel’s lips softly. “I’m too far gone on you, Cas. I don’t care it’s been, what, 3 days? I love you. That’s it. You’re stuck with me.” Castiel looked into Dean’s beautiful, green eyes. The stress of the new job, his father’s episodes… that stupid knife accident… more problems with his dad… And yet, he felt relaxed. Better even. “I don’t care either that it’s been 3 days. I love you too.” Dean and Castiel kissed again, and then Castiel snuggled his nose under Dean’s jaw. They stayed like this for a moment, smiling, eyes closed, their hands wandering over each other’s skin lazily. Castiel felt himself float away, content. Dean slapped Castiel’s butt. “Hey! No sleepy! The steaks!” Castiel chuckled. He sat up and looked Dean over. “Join me in the shower first?” Dean looked Castiel over and growled. “Oh yeah. And what about you wear those pizza briefs I got you?” “Gladly. You’ll wear the pineapples?” “Oh yes!”

That’s it for our boys! Thanks for joining me on this ride! That was fun! :D

Back to chapter 7

Back to the Masterpost of this series

Back to the Masterlist

#destiel domestic fluff #final chapter

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everyone-has-their-story · 5 years ago

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Season 3 episode 10 commentary with my sister:

Okay NOW can I stalk their instagrams???

Let’s have a moment of silence to mourn that this is the last episode

This recap is depressing the shit out of me, like thanks for the reminder but no thanks

Please tell me he is not playing video games

SENNE!

Wait, go back for a second!....the poster above the tv says “worry less, laugh more” and if that isn’t a fucking tagline for Robbe then idk what is

Exams? No, Senne, not exams

Senne just munching on some snacks while Robbe is having a crisis

It’s not your fault Robbe!

Senne give him some brotherly advice

Stop mentioning her name!

LOLLL Senne you fool

Listen to the man!

Senne dropping the knowledge on Robbe..i love it

Oh shit it’s Christmas! Definitely forgot about that

Stop fighting!!

Zoe wtf you doing?

That fucking ringtone again..

His phone is bigger than his head

YAY!! **raises arms to the sky to celebrate** (news about his mom)

Him smiling means I’m smiling

Wow way to be a Debby Downer Milan…

Okay, but Robbe...where is your man?

Oh the hospital! Is he visiting his mom or Sander??

FUCK. MY. LIFE! Not her

GONE? Gone where??

Idc if I’m a bitch, but I still don’t like her

Explain yourself to him! What did you mean??

Was that a drawing of Robbe???

LOL to Britt if that was Robbe

I mean I guess we can let you know..

It was him!! Damn he is good

Fucking hell the shaky breaths are back

So did Sander just like leave all his shit there?

Yes call him

Damn right there is! (”there is an us”)

Damn right you do! (”i love you”)

I want him to call ALL of us immediately...except Britt

Cool so still no Sander?

Waddup Jens!

Listen to Jens, don’t go down that road

Sander!

There is that chernobyl again

Good to know you’re safe, but he just wants to be with you

Yes, Robbe..Chernobyl- Wait, the school!!!!!

RUNNNNNNN!!

Why do I know this song?

Oh god there are flashbacks

Why do I recognize this song?

I knew it was the school

More flashbacks?? Lord help me

Sanderrrr where are you

Oh shit, go back that was so cool (the drawings turning into flashbacks)

So many memories!!!!

This is so cool

Where is-- FOUND HIM

**presses pause** I feel the need to take a moment because this is going to be an emotional scene…. **presse play**

He look so lost

No, don't go away!

Oh god he’s crying..help

PAUSE! ..are those drawings of Robbe above his desk?? **peers closely at the tv** oh god they are **presses play**

Shit! They are all over the room!!

Yes, stay!

Nope he will always be there

Ahhh no he will!

We were all worried

Oh god he is holding his--nope he is kissing his hand

Nooo you’re not toxic

Holy shit this is so good

We BOTH have never felt something like that (RIP to her bf again)

Oh boy he said I love you..i’m a mess

He will always say it!

Not in any universe

Oh shit the song is back...where is that from?? **informs her it is from the first kiss** Oh well way to fuck me up with the soundtrack

Oh a game!

Omg the minute by minute already?

Yes, let’s play that

Yes, very chill

His little smile

This is so sweet

The song is back!

Oh nooooo! Oh god

I’m not okay...not at all

Omg I wasn’t ready for a break down...

I don’t even know where to begin...Sanderrrr

Honestly their acting in this is fucking amazing

OMG! Call back to their almost first kiss!!

Pause! I’m sorry but play that scene again…

**physically covers her mouth for the entire 2nd time watching it**

One more time and then I swear we can move on, I just feel like I missed things…

**third time through** all the pictures!!! This is so painful to watch, but also makes me so happy. I’m so torn...I’m happy Sander has Robbe because Robbe is so sweet...this is hard to watch...I’m emotional on so many levels please don’t judge me...this is so much harder to watch than Skam...I hate how sentimental I am being because it just reminds me of you and I hate it...don’t judge me….also these actors are so fucking good, and I know I’ve said that but it’s true

Before we move on and I don’t care that I’ve paused it and rewound it like a thousands times, you’re gonna listen to another rant. There is so much to say about that scene and I don’t know if i will ever be able to say it all or put it into words and like I said before I’m being overly emotionally about this so please don’t judge me. I know that this is so different form Skam because they combined two scenes and there was a lot more discussion, but I liked the changes because I felt like it fit these characters more. And I love that Robbe never tried to be like oh that’s silly don’t think that, he was just like yeah that shit might happen but I’m still gonna be here. And the call back to the almost kiss was perfect. The whole scene was amazing and well done. Idk, there is so much more to say but I’m just gonna shut up for now

Okay...we can move on now

Oh sweet lord I wasn’t ready...that is fucking adorable

Little spoon Robbe!

Is this a Grease song??

That is the most annoying alarm

Don’t worry Britt, he already has

This is sweetest scene and no one has talked

No! He would never leave you!

Lol to the universe again

Oh yeah...school..that’s a thing

Ofc he is coming back, you silly billy

Still weirded out by the fact that they have little windows on their doors

Does Robbe know what pants are? Like feel free to wear them

Oh mother fucker…

Please tell this isn’t happening

I didn’t go through an entire season of hell with you two to have it end like this

Oh sweet fucking lord..I hate it

CUT! Scene over!

Noo!

Fuck my life…

Brother and sister right here..love it

Oh hey Moyo

I mean he’s had better days but thanks for asking

Only good advice you’ve ever given dude

You better be okay with it, but thanks for saying it

MAYBE? Maybe it seemed that way? Boy..

I mean I guess you can be broerrs, but you’ve got a lot of work to do my friend

Jens...what?? Check your eyesight

No he would NOT do you

Hahahhaha Jens is butthurt again

He’d choose dying

LOL at you Aaron

I mean, never say never Aaron

Robbe laughing? A rare sight and I love it

Are they out shopping together??

Oh right..it’s christmas time..

NO, let’s stay on topic Zoe

Robbe out here being the relationship expert now

Agree to disagree Zoe

Okay cool let’s not focus on his good traits…

Dude same (Zoe says she feels like shit)

Hahahahaha disaster gay again

Oh Robbe, thank god you brought Zoe

I love this friendship

Damnit right it didn’t feel right

It does indeed (robbe says shit with Sander sucks)

Hell yes it feels right between you two

Oh hey Noor! Legit forgot about you for awhile

Awkward..

I mean yeah..but who wouldn’t want you (robbe) around? Fools, that’s who

She’s pretty cool, I’ll give you that

He’s better than alright...he’s phenomenal

Oooh a party! Hope I’m invited

Aww Milan and Sander bonding! Love that

Cozy indeed

Milan as a babysitter sounds like a terrible idea

Did he just call him an angel???

Once again Milan is me, I am Milan

They are so fucking cute...they deserve it

The virus??? Holy shit. They started the coronavirus! You bastards

**dances** party time!!

Interior designers over here

Milan you sneaky man you...NO PEEKING!

Jack Frost?!?! Hahahhahahaha OMG hahahaha

Aaron you weirdo wtf???

LOL at Sanders face!! Same, dude same

Also sidenote: him saying he is Robbe’s bf...makes me so fucking happy

Those smiles at each other..fucking adorable

Noor! You made it!

Presents for everyone!

Who is giving alcohol to the Hot Mess Express??

No idea what just happened but ROBBE IS SMILING

Back that shit up! **rewinds** They really looked at each other after Milan said that! (about a cute boy for a present)

Milan disappoint level 100

OMG Noor got Sander?? And a Bowie shirt? Fucking legend

LOL at the fact that Noor is in between Robbe and Sander

Cuddles! (robbe and Sander on the couch)

Luca she is never going to understand anything sex related..poor girl

Back up! **rewinds** Robbe out here spinning his man on the dance floor, so cute

Oh good Lord Aaron is going for it?

Aaron man, don’t fuck it up

I know I should focus on Aaron, but Sander in the background smiling has my attention and I don’t feel bad about that at all

Aaron, man the fuck up!

There ya go buddy

She is one of kind that’s for sure…

I know I give Amber a lot of shit but you go girl!!

AHHHHH!!!

Shock level 1,000

LOL at everyone’s reaction

**dances** this is my jam!!

DANCE FOR ME, DANCE FOR ME!!

Robbe go and dance my dude

Wait I remember the vlogs..nvm don’t dance

Sander and laughing is a beautiful combo

Oooo I see you Noor and Moyo

He told his mom!

Oh shit Sander looks good in this scene

Oh you got jokes again Sander?

Yes meet the parents!!

I hope we get to see it (LOL at Kennedy)

Yeah but you’re bringing the BEST boy home

Robbe’s got jokes now too

Sander’s philosophy around Robbe now: clothing optional

Aww they’re so happy and cute!

That is very true Robbe

The looks between--- oh shit hey Hot Mess Express!

OMG! Robbe said fuck all y’all I’m gonna make out with my bf in front of you

The fact that everyone is cheering them on and Robbe is comfortable with doing that...I’m overwhelmed

WAIT! It’s over?!?!

Holy shit I wasn’t ready…

I have so many thoughts on this season...it was so fucking good. Willem fucking killed it and whoever played Sander (informs her of his name) they are both Willem?! Wtf that’s confusing...anyways they both fucking killed it!! Robbe from episode 1 to now...I’m so proud...I have more thoughts so listen up

**goes on a rant for 10+ more minutes** I am definitely rewatching this season next week because I felt like i missed a lot and I want to focus on the small things

#wtfock #kennedy watches wtfock #sorry this is SO long #she had a lot to say obviously

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martinskis-lydias · 5 years ago

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🤤😂🥰I rewatched Wolf Moon yesterday (honestly it’s been a while) and I had some thoughts

hot start to a pilot episode tbh: police radio and dogs, phenomenal; good song playing when you see scott in his room

pull ups, yes, thank you

Scott’s sink is kinda gross? like rusty and shit idk it bugs me every time i see it

But look how cute! a soft boy and his fluffy hair! I kinda love his fluffy hair, but I do like his hair shorter in later seasons

the jaw too, i LOVE posey’s jaw

love that he was ready to fight a predator barefoot also ICONIC STILES ENTRANCE

This interaction is prime Sciles

Scott is always portrayed as the dumb friend (and yes Scotty has done some dumb stuff I will admit) but he’s the one of the two of them that questions what they’re doing and what could possibly go wrong so... maybe not that dumb

they’re trying to hide from the police: stiles loudly running through the woods, scott yelling “Stiles!” pretty loudly (immediately makes me question the thoughts on either of their intelligence)

And why didn’t Scott just admit he was there in the woods with Stiles? What could the Sheriff do that was worse than being stranded in the woods at night with no ride home?

The CGI deer and flying inhaler were just 👌

Also don’t know if Posey’s doing it on purpose but I love the asthmatic breathing as he’s walking through the woods

And i’m soRRY BUT HOW DID HE NOT NOTICE THE BODY ALMOST IMMEDIATELY IT’S NOT THAT FUCKING DARK

His back hitting that tree when he fell down that little hill had to have hurt, it looked really hard

Why did Peter look like he did as the Alpha but Derek and Scott never did? and yes i know they started insinuating that Scott might end up getting there but is it just that murder makes you look more like a monster? am I missing something?

Baby Colton! Jackson’s a dick but I fucking love Colton

STILES WEARING A TSHIRT, A HOODIE, AND A SUIT JACKET JUST WTF why did the costume dept keep putting him in suit jackets the first few episodes?

is it just me or is this principicals suit way too big? apparently i’m a snob about suits

literally the first time i saw Crystal i was in LOVE she’s gorgeous

Lydia’s outfit 🥰

Who is this girl that’s friends with Scott and Stiles? Where did she go?

(Stiles thinks Allison is hot hello Stallison feels)

Posey’s hat hair is so fucking cute

THE LACROSSE! COBRASTYLE MONTAGE! JACKSON STOPPING A PLAYER WITH HIS STICK FOR THE DRAMA!

Lydia and Jackson have such a toxic relationship 🙃 and i hate it honestly

Scott gets enhanced senses and immediately thinks he’s dying: a mood

why does stiles know off the top of his head when the full moon is? i couldn’t fucking tell you when the full moon is ever unless i looked at a calendar

STEREK STEREK STEREK

Hoechlin’s cheekbones - hello sir

also his eyebrows

you ever think about the fact that Derek can hear Stiles just casually mention the massacre of his family like that? and that this probably happens a lot when he first gets back in town?

Posey’s hair is so inconsistent in this episode it’s kinda hilarious

So... did those cats just not get fed that night?

“She’s just frightened” “That makes two of us”

that dramatic head tilt when Scott glows his eyes at the dog in the trunk

also that dog is SO CUTE

this scene is so cheesy but it’s so cute

“Tougher’n that” IDK WHY BUT ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT THERE IS KATE ARGENT

AGAIN with Scott not being as stupid as everyone thinks he is! just throwing out a word like litigious? Nah man my boy is smart

I wish “Definitely yes” became a bigger thing with them idk

POSEY’S BUTT WHEN CLIMBING THAT LITTLE HILL ON ALL FOURS

Posey in a pool, Russel with the hose, iconic

“Where. Are you getting. Your jUiCe?” “...My mom does all the grocery shopping” Literally one of my favourite scenes

Coach pulling Scott aside to say he made first line is such a bad scene but i love Orny so much and Scotty boy’s lil smile is so cute

Stiles “researching” 😂

Why is Stiles’ bed at such a weird angle?

Melissa Ponzio is fucking GORGEOUS

Did ppl actually go to a highschool party like this? Or was I just a hug loser?

Correct me if I’m wrong but isn’t that guy in purple hoodie dancing Dylan?

Scott couldn’t walk straight but got in his car and drove home i mean...

DEREK IN HIS LEATHER JACKET 🤤

You can’t tell me that a small part of Allison wasn’t a little thrilled that such a hot guy drove her home, no matter how annoyed she was at Scott

Scott wearing pants in the shower; the fake hand; phenomenal

I like the first show of his fangs though! they were good fangs, and he had a cute lil lisp

Scott jumping to it being Dere after literally seeing him twice is a bit of a leap (yes Derek is a werewolf but Scott goes way past that and assumed that because he seemed a little sketchy or mean he must have murdered that girl??)

The dramatic jump out the window and landing in the puddle

i’m really glad they changed the look of Scott’s shift a bit? idk i just didn’t like it

awkwardly running on all fours through the woods

Victoria just looks so affronted at the sight of Stiles lol

CHRIS JUST TURNING AND WHIPPING OUT THE GUN YES (i have a thing for Chris)

derek just say you didn’t bite Scott you dumbass

“The bite is a gift... we’re brothers now”

Why hadn’t Stiles changed by the time he picked up Scott? What had he been doing all night?

Let Stiles be excited you’re a werewolf Scotty boy, someone has to be

YO i remember seeing the Chris being Allison’s father reveal the first time and being absolutely FLOORED

Honestly I love the Pilot episode, it’s so good

I mean, there are parts that are bad or cheesy or whatever but I still love it?? probably the nostalgia

#teen wolf rewatch #teen wolf #liveblog #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #derek hale #allison argent #lydia martin #jackson whittemore #melissa mccall #sheriff stilinski #chris argent #victoria argent #kate argent #tw: 1x01 #tw: wolf moon #shut up alex

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dutten-does-the-fanfic · 5 years ago

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I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 7

Title: I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 7 of 14 (ch. 1) Pairing: Isak Valtersen/Even Bech Næsheim Word count: 16.854 Warnings: Language, internalized homophobia

AO3

Summary: The one where it’s been two years since Isak last saw or spoke with Even, and no one knows that Isak ever knew Even at all.

Present

Isak squeezes his eyes shut and counts to five in his head.

He’s dreaming. He never got up this morning, never left the apartment for uni, didn’t get a glimpse of the headline of this morning’s gossip when he decided to treat himself and took a detour to get a coffee. He’s lying in his bed at home, dreaming – or actually having a nightmare because this is a fucking nightmare.

A woman passes him when he fails to respond to her prodding if he’s waiting in line. He can’t open his mouth, can’t use his voice because he’s not there, he’s at home in bed, having a nightmare.

The magazine is lying innocently on the counter, discarded from whoever had sat there, leafed through it and then didn’t find it interesting enough to take with them when they left. He takes a step forward towards it and picks up the paper. Behind him people fill up the space he’s vacated, and a distant, dissociative voice in the back of Isak’s head tells him he can kiss that coffee goodbye, as if it matters when his world is falling apart.

He opens his eyes again, but the headline hasn’t changed. The surprisingly well-taken photo of Even at some red carpet event, and the not-as-flattering paparazzi shot of Even wearing too big of a jacket, cap and dark sunglasses and generally looking rundown haven’t changed. It’s all right there in front of his eyes, and no matter how hard he rubs at them until they tear up, it’s still there. It doesn’t go away.

Even Bech Næsheim’s secret marriage?

A.k.a. Hollywood’s so far best kept secret! The director behind the absolutely phenomenal award winning movies ‘Hold Your Breath’ and ‘Save You Right Back’ along with nominated ‘Circles’ and several short films, Even Bech Næsheim, has never been particularly public about his private life. For nearly a year, he’s been rumored to be in a relationship with fellow Norwegian, Sonja Teigen, who currently works for Næsheim as part of his management team. Lo and behold, Næsheim’s need for privacy was because he might already be married! Rumor has it records from the Norwegian achieves mention our young talent in a marriage certificate, dated on the 21st July 2017. There is currently no word on the whereabouts of said certificate, and no name has been mentioned as to whom his s.o. is, nor has there been an official statement from Næsheim himself –

Fuck.

Isak wretches himself away from the paper, dropping it into a puddle of spilt tea on the floor as he trips over his own feet, nearly smashing his head into the wall. There are startled yells from all around him, people dodging him and grumbling about how he’s just interrupted their oh-so-busy day when Isak is having a crisis.

He leans back up against the faux-brick wall. It’s cold against his back, even through his coat, and it’s slightly damp too from condensation and leaves him feeling clammy and uncomfortable. He’s panting and can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the paper slowly being soaked through until the ink smudges, leaving the letters runny and pictures smudgy.

But not so indistinct that he’s unable to see Even’s name and face splattered all over the front page.

Fuck.

OOOOO

It’s on the news. It’s on the news and it’s everywhere and it’s everywhere on the news and it’s on the news everywhere, because that’s a thing Even is, internationally famous and everyone seems to care.

Everyone’s all like, “Even Bech Næsheim is married!” and “Ooh, who’s the lucky girl?” Meanwhile, Isak’s sitting on his bed, crunching on stale cheerios without milk because none of them are functioning adults who go grocery shopping when they don’t have any left, wearing the same shirt he’s been wearing the past three days, feeling just about absolutely disgusting, but he doesn’t have the energy to actually do anything about it.

He hates feeling like this.

He’d felt like this the entire first year of university before he had gotten his shit together at the last minute of second semester, and now he’s right back to where he started.

Isak can’t remember how he got home from the coffee shop. He knows he skipped the lecture and the tutor session, because once he’d started paying attention to his whereabouts again he’d seen the slew of messages from Sana, exuding sarcasm and passive-aggressiveness, but still with a hint of well-meaning concern that Isak doesn’t have the wherewithal to think about.

He’s missing chunks of time, which is – concerning. The knuckles on his left hand are bruised and scabbed over in small chunks, and it hurts a bit to hold his bowl of cereal, but he’s too hungry to not eat and too anxious to eat at the kitchen table. There’s a similarly stinging red line that looks as if he’s gotten whipped running across his arm, nearly all the way from his wrist to the crook of his elbow,

Probably from a bush or something, Isak had tried to console himself at two a.m. last night, when he’d been running cold water over it to soothe the pain. He did have a habit of lashing out when everything he’d bottled up just became too much and he exploded.

At least he hadn’t managed to get himself into a fight, like Mahdi had thought when he’d gotten a glimpse of Isak’s hand, because even as out of it as he must’ve been, Isak never would’ve tried to land a punch with his non-dominant hand.

There are so many emotions running through Isak that he can’t figure out left from right. They rush through him quicker than he can think, than he can feel them. Anger, hurt, anxiousness, exhaustion – so fucking exhausted, and constantly, constantly scared.

He’s so fucking scared, and he’s tired of being scared and tired of feeling like a bruise that’s constantly being prodded at. An open cut that’s not left alone for long enough to heal. And he knows part of that is his own fault, because he’d spent nearly an entire year after Even had left consuming his body mass times a hundred in alcohol, too busy deflecting and wallowing in his own misery to actually process what the fuck had just happened.

It just – it had been too scary to actually realize that this was it. That had been it. He’d gotten to have Even for nearly three years and that had been it because Even was gone, had fucking left. It had been easier to stare at the bottom of whatever bottle was the closest, to not focus on anything other than the dizziness of the alcohol and not the dizziness of his world being torn apart, turned upside down, and life and time continuing to move on without him.

And now he’s paying for it. Well – Isak would argue he’s been paying for it ever since, but there’s been a good period, however small, where Isak had actually thought things were turning around, that while he didn’t get to have Even, he got to have this; a home, a group of friends, a science degree. It hadn’t been what he’d originally wanted for himself, because Even had been a major part of that, but it was something.

And now he’s always one step from fighting with his friends. He can’t look any of them in the eye. He can’t sleep, can’t relax, can’t stop being so fucking scared constantly and it’s exhausting. He’s so scared of everything – of messing up what isn’t already broken with the boys, of slipping up and giving it away, of everyone knowing.

This article, this goddamn piece of writing, somehow feels as bad as actually seeing Even in person for the first time in years had at Mikael’s party.

It would’ve been different had it just been a trashy magazine or some gossip site, but it isn’t. Yes, it’s celebrity news, but the entertainment reporters don’t just publish anything that’ll blow up by headline alone. That just makes it worse because people believe it, and that means Isak’s fucked.

Or – potentially fucked, he has to constantly remind himself. Because he hasn’t been mentioned by name, and unless Even’s been unable to keep his mouth shut no one knows who Even’s married to, at least not anyone not on Even’s payroll. There hasn’t even been any indication that it’s supposed to be someone from Norway, that it isn’t some pretty actress Even’s worked with and this is all about her.

It does very little to comfort him. Probably because he knows who it’s about.

Going through the comments is like stomping through a minefield. There’s a multitude of theories.

Some who, thankfully, believe the entire ordeal to be fake.

Then there’s some who are going through a long list of celebrities Even worked with in his early days that maybe, if you skew the timeframe a bit, could fit.

Then there are those who are firm ‘Even x Sonja’ advocators.

And then there are the ones who actually scare Isak, because they’re close enough to have figured out it would have to be someone from before Even blew up, and there’s no point in listing big names who realistically would’ve never come across Even or paid attention to him. It would probably be someone Even knew from before he started to get the recognition his work deserved, and they would therefore never be able to guess who it was.

None of the theories contemplate the possibility that it might not be a girl. None. Not one. Isak can’t tell if that’s a relief or another point of anxiety.

It’s not like he really has a right to be bitter about this entire ordeal. He’d known that he was telling Even to ‘go ahead and live your dream!’ and he’d fully meant it, too, he’d wanted everything for Even, he just –

He hadn’t been aware that at the same time, he was telling Even to ‘go ahead and leave me behind!’ Maybe he should’ve known, should’ve picked up on the clues, if there’d really ever been any.

Maybe he had been living an illusion. Maybe Even had wanted to leave for a while. Maybe it had never meant as much to Even as it had to Isak. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Rationally, Isak knows none of those are the case, but Isak’s also not really capable of thinking non-irrational thoughts at the moment – not when he’s clutching an empty bowl of what had been dry cereal, afraid to leave his room in case one of the boys are there.

He shouldn’t be feeling like this, he knows. He shouldn’t feel so horrible at the thought of taking up space, of subjecting people to be around him. He shouldn’t be feeling so scared all the time that he’ll occasionally slip into terrifying numbness when his brain just can’t handle the cortisol overload anymore.

He can’t do this again, Isak hisses to himself. This was supposed to be his goddamn year, and instead it’s going to absolute shit and Isak’s had enough.

He doesn’t know where the bout of fury comes from, but it sears through him like fire, swallowing up everything else, and he’s jumped off his bed and pulled his door open hard enough the handle slams into the wall before he can think and listen if anyone else is home right now.

The cold wash of dread barely quenches the burning hot anger, only enough that his body is still too pumped but now his mind is racing along as well.

Because they’re all home, and Isak knows he is fucked up, that he hasn’t been sleeping well – or pretty much at all - since that goddamn, stupid, stupid party at Mikael’s, and that he’s lost time stressing over some fucking article, but – he’d just had breakfast, aren’t they supposed to be… not here?

“It’s the only thing that makes sense!” he hears Magnus cry out.

Isak stands there completely frozen, rooted to the ground. If they haven’t heard him having a tantrum, then maybe he can just go back into his room and stay there until he’s made sure no one else is home like a non-idiot would do.

His feet don’t move.

He hears Mahdi snort, “Sure thing,” which makes Jonas laugh. And Isak wants to go back to his room, back to hiding, but…

He also wants that, wants it to be easy to laugh with the boys again, easy to fit in seamlessly instead of feeling like he’s intruding or standing on the sidelines. He wants things to not be so hard anymore. This was supposed to be his year.

He takes a step forward, is close enough to the kitchen now that if one of them walks over to the fridge and turns around they’ll see him.

“It is!” Magnus stresses insistently. “Just think about it – Sonja is the only person he’s been seen with consistently!”

And Isak’s frozen again. Fuck. Fuck.

“What does that matter?” Mahdi laughs. “He’s never even been seen holding her hand. ’Consistently’. What does that even mean?“

“But if the guy’s hiding his marriage, he’s not exactly going to be holding anyone’s hand, is he?” Jonas points out. Isak hears a thump that was probably Mahdi attempting to kick him. Isak can hear Jonas’ feet skittering over the floor, and then another thump as he leans into the counter. Isak can see his arm, his shoulder, a little bit of his side. His heart is pounding.

“Then what’s the point with any of it?” Mahdi cries out.

“That is the point!” Magnus insists. “He won’t be doing something so obvious, but it’s not like he’s got his wife hidden away in his basement either, is it?”

“Well, technically –“ Jonas says, more to be a smartass than actually thinking Even could be a creep, but Magnus still makes a noise of absolute outrage. Isak can’t even be bothered by ‘his wife’.

“So –“ Magnus interrupts loudly, “– it’ll be someone he’s been seen with more than just at some work-related press, and Sonja is the only one that fits the bill!”

“But,” Jonas point out diplomatically, “she does work for him.”

Magnus grumbles. “Yeah, but it has to be someone he’s been seen with.”

“Why?”

Why, why, why, and it isn’t, it isn’t, it isn’t, and fuck, fuck, fuck, are the only thoughts Isak seems to be able to think. He can still see parts of Jonas, can register the danger of it and how much he wants to go hide in his room, but he can’t make his feet move and he can’t tell that his heart is beating at all, that it’s actually pounding away inside his chest.

“He’s married, which means he’s in love with someone enough to get married. He won’t have just left them behind while he goes gallivanting around Hollywood, would he?”

He won’t have left them behind, would he? Would he, would he, fucking would he?

Suddenly Isak isn’t numb anymore. He isn’t anxious. He’s fucking furious.

He’s stomped the remaining feet to the kitchen before he can think it through. It’s a sunny day – he hadn’t been aware, having drawn his own curtains several days ago and not opened them since, but out here in the kitchen, with the big bay window providing the light source in the room it’s difficult to ignore.

Isak doesn’t know why that’s what makes him freeze up again, even with the anger still boiling through him, but it’s always done something to him, some kind of dissonance between his own life, his mind, and the world turning around him.

They’re all staring at him; Jonas cautiously and Mahdi contemplatively. Magnus is the only one who doesn’t immediately look withdrawn at his entrance, but still as enthused as he’d sounded.

“Hey,” Jonas says, sounding like he’s consciously attempting to sound as normal as possible. He frowns at the bowl in Isak’s hands. “You’ve had breakfast? I didn’t hear you.”

Isak doesn’t know what time it is, so he doesn’t know what Jonas is trying to say, so he just walks over to the counter instead, fiddles with the dishes already in the sink so he can place his bowl there without everything toppling over.

God, what a mess. Isak can’t even tell if he’s thinking about the sink or himself, or maybe he just won’t admit that he can.

It’s obvious he’s in a foul mood if Mahdi doesn’t dare poke fun of him or talk about his bruises, but that doesn’t deter Magnus in the slightest.

“Did you hear?” Isak doesn’t turn around to look at him, but he can hear the chair shuffling around as if Magnus is actually bouncing in his seat like an overeager child. “Isak, did you hear about –“

“Yes, I’ve heard,” Isak snaps, doesn’t even have it in him to feel guilty. Not by his own conscience or the one Jonas is trying to mentally force upon him with his perpetual frowning. “Gratulerer, whoop-de-fucking-doo.”

There’s a plate half-soaking in the sink that’s perilously close to tipping over or spilling the water onto the counter. Isak probably spends a full minute just staring at it as the boys resume their conversation behind him.

“I still can’t believe it,” Magnus shakes his head. Something flips in Isak’s stomach uncomfortably. He tries to convince himself it’s because of Magnus switching so quickly between sounding ecstatic and sounding incredulous at the news.

Mahdi makes a sound like he’s more amused with the situation than anything, and it almost makes Isak more annoyed with him rather than Magnus who, apparently, won’t let him catch a goddamn break.

It’s incredibly difficult to keep his focus on the plate, to not register Even, Sonja, married, married, married they keep going over, and over, and over.

“I mean, sure, they’ve always had that ‘will they, won’t they’ vibe, you know? Or, more like ‘are they, aren’t they’ I guess, if you want to be technical about it. But this – that he’s supposed to be married to her?” Magnus worries his bottom lip as he contemplates it. “I can see it, though. Even looks good with someone smaller than him – not that that’s difficult given his 10 foot legs alone – but someone cute, blond.”

Isak stills, everything inside him shutting down. It feels like he’s trapped underwater with everyone else still on the shore and he can’t get back to them. He feels paralyzed, the sounds around him muffled but still intelligible, which seems like a curse in itself. Someone smaller than him, cute, blond. He tries to get rid of the unwanted flashes of himself, of Even, of him and Even. Someone smaller than him so he can fold himself into the curve of his body, someone blond, hair colored like liquid gold in the setting sun to make up for the lack of gold rings on their fourth finger.

Isak wants to scream, wants the images to get out of his head, to get out, get out, get out.

“Oh, the typical Norwegian look, like yourself?” Mahdi teases, wiggling his eyebrows and laughing when Magnus makes flustered, high-pitched noises.

“No, but – can’t you see it? It’s like, like they just fit together, that he fits with someone like that.”

They just fit together, someone smaller than Even, someone cute, someone blond, someone who fits – Isak hadn’t fit. He hadn’t fit so Even moved on without him, and suddenly it doesn’t feel like Magnus is talking about Sonja anymore.

There’s no way he can know, Isak doesn’t think, even though they know that Even knows Isak, there’s no way, they can’t think that – that Isak – but it still feels like they know, and instead of just telling Isak they know, they’re playing this backwards game to ridicule him, to make fun of the one thing other than Eskild and these three boys that Isak had been so fucking proud of, that he’d worked hard on only to have it crumbling in his hands like everything else.

He can’t even look at Magnus, Mahdi, or Jonas, afraid to see the cracks he knows are there, that he knows are growing bigger and bigger the less he tells them, the more he lashes out, the more secrets they can tell he’s keeping, the more they know, until the gap between him and them is too big to cross.

“Isak, what do you think?” Magnus asks, and Isak doesn’t have to turn around to know what he’ll look like; all wide-eyes and puppy-eager, and it’ll only serve to send Isak straight to fuming instead of the pure rage flooding through his veins.

“I don’t give a shit,” he snaps before he can control himself. His hands are shaking minutely, and for some reason he only hopes the boys don’t notice that instead of focusing on something actually important like if he’ll have any friends by the time he’s pulled himself together.

They all fall disturbingly quiet. Isak’s fucked up, he knows he has fucked up, but he can’t, he fucking can’t fix –

“Don’t you have a lecture by now, anyway?” he asks out into the room, not really directing it at anyone as he’s completely bullshitting it anyway. He hasn’t got a clue what time it is and he’s spent so much time stuck inside his own head he can barely remember their schedules let alone his own.

Magnus is the one to react, checking his phone, then swears loudly and trips over his own legs are he hurries to get out.

Jonas is frowning so hard it looks like his eyebrows are one, long, bushy line on his face. The slam of the door behind Magnus’ hurried goodbye isn’t enough to disturb Mahdi’s silent judging or Jonas’ slightly annoyed concern.

“The fuck’s crawled up your ass?” Mahdi asks, not as harshly as Isak flinches.

Fucking, what hasn’t crawled up his ass, but he can’t say that, can’t tell them that. He can’t explain, doesn’t want to explain, doesn’t want them to know, but it’s all too fucking much and he can’t keep it in. He’s about to explode, can feel all the resentment that’s been stored inside him for years bubbling away, seconds from boiling over.

The guilt and the shame work like layers of ice, keeping everything contained. The resentment just makes him want to cry.

This was supposed to be his year, and instead it’s turned into – into… this. Whatever the hell this even is, anymore.

“Nothing,” he mutters when it dawns on him both Mahdi and Jonas are waiting for him to say something. “Not a single thing.”

Mahdi snorts. “Sure doesn’t seem like it either.”

“What, some guy decides to get married and suddenly it’s my problem?” he snaps before he can keep it down, immediately regretting the momentary loss of control.

The silence that settles over them is heavy, the quiet before the storm. Jonas doesn’t say anything, but his displeased eyebrows give him away. Mahdi is less shy about remaining nonverbal.

Isak can feel it building, whatever Mahdi, usually so chill Mahdi, is about to say – all until Jonas clears his throat, signaling something to Mahdi that Isak doesn’t want to think too much about the implications of.

Don’t cry, don’t yell, don’t piss anyone off, please, he repeats to himself in the tense silence that follows.

The kitchen chair scrapes against the floor when Mahdi gets up. “When was the last time you got laid?” he asks, not viciously, but too taunting to be friendly either.

Isak remembers when the last time he ‘got laid’ was, despite wanting to forget; remembers how Even had been slow, had been moving so slowly Isak could feel every inch of him. Remembers how Even hadn’t been able to stop touching him, be it his fingers, hands, lips, and Isak had been just as bad, clutching on to him, holding him close with legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his shoulders, hands moving tenderly to let Even know how much he loved him. Remembers how they’d both been crying at the end, because Even was leaving for America the next day and neither of them wanted to finish, wanted the moment to end and go to sleep, even as Even had an early flight and probably should be sleeping now to not fuck up his schedule too much.

It hadn’t been the last time Isak had touched Even – touched properly, not just bumped into his back and getting the biggest shock of his life – hadn’t even been the last time he’d talked to Even without being so fucking mad at him.

Mahdi shoulder-taps him gentler than Isak thinks he deserves but enough to get him out of his head. “Get yourself out of whatever funk you’re in.” It’s an order, not friendly advice, and then he’s gone as well.

Isak’s still holding the bowl like a goddamn idiot. He can’t seem to let go of it, though.

He can feel Jonas’s eyes on him. Can still feel Mahdi’s eyes, Magnus’ eyes, the eyes of every single person to comment on that stupid, stupid article that it would’ve been someone Even knew from before he got famous. It sets off an… itch that doesn’t go away, that only grows bigger and bigger the longer he stays still.

“Why are you so mad?” Jonas stares at Isak quizzically, not even looking particularly bothered beyond the concern evident on his face. It makes Isak’s hackles rise. “Is this about the party? We did say we were sorry we forgot to tell you – and you could’ve just invited someone, even if it was last minute. I thought you had fun –��

“I don’t care about the stupid party,” Isak snipes. He wants to hurl his mug at the wall, wants to shout and stomp his feet and he wants to fucking cry. “I care that apparently none of you know how to respect other people. Seriously, didn’t we have rules about not doing this shit?” he asks, gesturing to the full sink. “And being fucking respectful when living with other people, which means not being loud as fuck when someone’s trying to sleep?”

He’s breathing harshly, still clutching at the bowl, which Jonas eyes pointedly. He doesn’t for a second buy that that’s what’s bothering Isak, that they woke him up when he’s clearly been awake for several hours. That there isn’t some bigger thing that means he comes home with bruises, that he blows up on everyone around him without them deserving it, that’s he’s a trigger away from blowing himself up if he has to hear Even’s name again. That he isn’t so fucking fucked up that they never should’ve asked him to be their fourth roommate, that they should’ve just rented his room out and let Isak stay in student housing.

And Jonas is still just frowning. “Have you been sleeping alright?”

“And you can’t – huh?” Isak flounders, still in the middle of his movement until he’s standing frozen, holding a dirty bowl in mid-air and looking like an idiot.

“Have you been sleeping alright?” Jonas repeats, like that’s the problem, like Isak hadn’t heard him.

Isak snorts. He feels cold, feels clammy, feels like he can hardly breathe half the time and his body is shutting down on him in retaliation for the lack of oxygen he provides it.

“Fucking dandy,” he mutters, drops the bowl into the sink so it clatters. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean have you slept?” Jonas isn’t moving closer. He also isn’t moving further away, but it’s his presence that’s stifling, it’s having someone so close, too close, and Isak can’t have anyone get too close.

“We’re in uni,” Isak deflects. “None of us are sleeping. I found Mags the other day asleep on the kitchen floor in front of the fridge when he went to get a snack in the middle of the day.”

Granted, Magnus had gotten gloriously drunk the night before and had still been more tipsy than hungover at the time, which isn’t exactly comparable with Isak’s anxiety-induced insomnia.

It should’ve been enough, though – would’ve been enough if Isak was talking to Mahdi or Magnus, or if just either of them had been here right now and he hadn’t managed to piss them off, but Isak is talking to Jonas, and Jonas is stupidly observant and stubborn when he wants to be.

Isak really doesn’t want him to be like that right now, though. He can’t. He’s so close to freaking out already, so close to just losing it he’ll actually go insane if he has to deal with Jonas’ questions on top of everything else.

Jonas gives him a look that he hasn’t been fooled and he hasn’t been deterred despite Isak’s best effort, but it’s also a look that Isak can’t interpret. He can’t tell what’s behind it.

Is Jonas angry? Disappointed? Worried? Isak can’t tell, and it’s freaking him out that he can’t tell and it’s freaking him out why he can’t tell, because despite his completely self-destructive behavior when they’d first met, Isak had instantly clicked with Jonas, like they were long lost brothers. Every look, every twitch of his eyebrow, Isak knew what he wanted to say.

He doesn’t know now. He wants to claw his own skin off his body with his nails, wants to be able to breathe, but he can’t.

Whatever Jonas had been hoping to silently emulate or guilt Isak into admitting himself, Isak never finds out because Jonas gives up.

He sighs, shakes his head, and now Isak can definitely tell he’s disappointed, but with a hint of something more.

“Just –“ he makes a frustrated sigh. “Magnus loves the guy, why can’t you just –“

What? What? Why can’t Isak just what? Why can’t he just let Magnus worship the ground Even walks on? Why can’t he just play along? Why can’t he just love Even too?

He doesn’t feel angry anymore, doesn’t even feel defensive, not to Jonas, anyway. He just feels tired and a bit like he wants to cry. Feels like this is a nightmare he’s just waiting to wake up from.

Jonas turns to face him again. Isak doesn’t wake up.

“Don’t go at Magnus’ throat just because of whatever’s going on.”

It’s friendlier than Mahdi’s ‘advice’, but still too harsh to be embracing concern. It’s an, ‘I’m close to having had it with your bullshit, whatever it is that’s going on, fix it.’

Isak doesn’t reply. He’s too busy bounding out of the kitchen, leaving the dishes as they are, close to falling over, and locks himself in his room, panting for air he can’t seem to breathe.

He still feels their eyes on him. It makes his skin crawl.

OOOOO

Isak’s got 18 unanswered texts from Sana, steadily growing more and more sarcastic, bordering on mean, although Isak can’t tell if that’s actually what Sana intended or if he’s at this point so fucked up he can’t distinguish the two from each other anymore.

It’s fucked. He’s fucked. He’s the master of sarcasm, but right now his heart starts pounding when he grabs a hold of his phone, so he’s left it in his pocket on silent so he doesn’t feel the vibrations of people trying to reach him. Not that he knows anyone other than Sana who trying to do that, given how much he’s fucked up with the boys and hasn’t worked on getting any other friends because he has Jonas, Mahdi, and Magnus.

Had Jonas, Mahdi, and Magnus, a traitorous, self-deprecating voice inside his head whispers. Isak can’t listen to it. Not now, not when everything else is so fucked.

He’s technically supposed to be coming back from a lecture now, instead of having just left his apartment. Jonas had looked at him weirdly but hadn’t said anything when Isak all but fled the place at the wrong time, heading in the wrong direction.

He’d gone to the lecture yesterday. Or, he’d sat through half of it. Sana had partly bitched him out when he first showed up, scolding him leaving her hanging the day before. Isak had distantly taken all of it, barely feeling anything and only snapping back at Sana because that’s what they did and she’d been a second too close to seeing through him. Then the lecture had begun, Isak hurrying to shush Sana when she’d gotten ready to demand knowing where he’d been and what he’d been doing with those bruised knuckles of his.

Usually Isak likes lectures. He learns the best like that, by being taught the theory, even if their professor is rather dull, ignorant-bordering-on-racist, and most of the guys taking the course spend the forty-five minutes-to-an hour and a half staring at her ever present nipples visible through her shirt.

Isak obviously doesn’t care about that. Instead he spends the time leaning back, taking notes. They’ve got actual upholstered chairs in the lecture hall, much to everyone’s delight, which it normally is. It’s just this day, today, that it doesn’t feel like hiding away.

He and Sana always sit in the back, simply because they like it, unlike everyone else who sits in the back to be able to chat and gossip with whoever they’re sitting next to. Usually it doesn’t bother Isak who’s used to studying around Eskild, whether physically there or over the noise of the Lion King soundtrack being blasted, and he lives with three other guys – quiet isn’t the norm. It’s easy enough to tune out senseless squabbles and focus on the actual thing Isak wants to learn about.

But not today.

Today, his heart rate picks up every time he hears Even’s name, every time he hears about a certificate, hears the word ‘married’ or any variation thereof.

Once the break comes between their double-module lecture, he’s out of his seat and trying to fly out of the door before Sana’s grabbing onto him, asking what’s wrong.

Too many fucking things, he wants to scream but he doesn’t. He doesn’t do that, he never does. He blows up about everything these days, he thinks, the constant irritability and short fuse also wearing him down to the bone as much as everything else is, but he’s got no outlet, no way to let off the steam, and letting it out once it’s boiled over doesn’t help either, it just leaves him exhausted.

Then again, what would he even say? That he fell in love? That it wasn’t with a girl? That it was with a boy who ended up becoming world famous – so famous that having been married was considered sensational news? That Isak had fucked up, that he was a fuck-up?

He can’t say any of that, so he doesn’t say anything. He steps out of Sana’s reach and walks out. He gets several text messages while the break is still going on, only tapering off fifteen past when the lecture must’ve started again.

It feels like he can’t escape from it. Everywhere he goes, it’s either about Even, about the article, or it’s about Isak being a total asshole to everyone close to him, and he can’t –

He can’t look them in the eyes without feeling like shit. He’s so scared, he’s constantly scared and it’s wearing him down, tearing him apart and revealing his bones to the world.

It had been a threat back in the day, getting outed without his permission, back when he and Even were still – when they –

When Eskild could’ve walked inside his room at any time, no matter how much they’d try to limit Even’s time there for when no one else was supposed to be home. When they were outside in the world, not even touching, but just a look between them could’ve been more telling than Isak actually jumping Even in the middle of the street. When he could’ve accidentally blurted out the wrong thing, the last hint as to what the fuck was up with Isak.

It’s not like Isak hadn’t been aware of all of those things, but Even had left, had left with a big wad of papers, and Isak had actually figured that if he just kept his mouth shut, he’d never have to be afraid of that again.

Fast-forward a couple of years and there’s a stupid article, a stupid published article, telling him the biggest ‘fuck you’ there is to tell, and the fear is back with a revenge on a much, much larger scale than Isak has ever been afraid of before.

So knowing all of that, knowing what happened, feeling his throat close in on itself at the thought of anyone finding out, Isak can’t look his best friends in the eyes, and it’s fucking him up.

He almost got in a full-blown fight with Magnus, Magnus. Magnus who internalizes everything the worst out of all of them, who’s so oblivious but too kindhearted to ever call someone – Isak – out on their – his – bullshit.

What he needs is a way to fix this, but the how is rather evasive.

It’s not like he can go back in time and redo everything. It’s not like he can delete the article, and it’s not like he can sue for defamation of character or any other bullshit line like that. But those are the only two options his brain comes up with to make everything go back to normal. Isak just really wants everything to go back to normal.

He doesn’t want for things to be this hard, he doesn’t want feel like he has to hide in his own home, to hide away in his room so none of the boys look at him too hard, for too long. If you’re looking for something, you’ll most likely find it, Isak knows, and that’s when his brain comes up with a third non-viable option.

Proving his non-existent straightness would definitely get anyone off the trail. Isak can’t even remember the last time he pretended to hook up with a girl, can’t remember the last party where he didn’t just stand near the booze once the boys had partnered up.

It’s honestly something that they still make fun of Magnus for not having any game when Isak’s the one who hasn’t been with anyone since his first and only boyfriend.

He just needs something to keep them from thinking along those lines.

Something comes in the form of the short-haired first year Isak accidentally full-body bumps into when rounding the corner, sending her coffee flying to the ground, the thankfully only lukewarm liquid splashing up against Isak’s shoes and the hem of his jeans.

It’s probably foreshadowing of how this is a very bad idea, but Isak’s never been great at ignoring very bad ideas. The entire reason why he’s in this mess, case in point.

“Watch where you’re going!” Emma shouts before noticing who she’s just yelled at. Then she gets positively more pissed. “Oh. It’s you.”

Isak can’t help the wince. It’s not really about Emma, not when it comes down to it, but it’s easier to pretend that it is.

“Yeah,” he says apologetically, staring forlornly down at the cup still slowly spilling out coffee onto the street in waves. He bends down to get it to throw away properly. There’s a little bit of coffee left at the bottom. “Sorry. That was – I should’ve looked where I was going. Sorry.”

Emma’s lips are snapped tightly together, her jaw clenched. Isak’s heart is beating, and he wishes it was because she’s near him. It would’ve made everything so much easier if that had been the case.

Isak’s life isn’t easy, though, and he knows his heart is beating too fast from the guilt and shame mixing together at the thought of what he’s about to do.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could help me with something,” rushes out of him before he can change his mind, just apologize again for the coffee and walk away like he’s supposed to do.

Emma sighs like it’s a hardship, but she also doesn’t walk away, and Isak hates himself a little bit for keeping her intrigued.

“You see, my roommates were being a bunch of assholes and had a party without telling me about it.”

She keeps her face blank; a perfectly disinterested façade in anything Isak has to say. He sees right through it, knows she wants that explanation and apology.

“And I was supposed to invite this really cute girl from first year,” he grins at her, careful to not seem too cocky but also like he’s interested. It works, despite the dark circles underneath his eyes and his hair probably being greasy to all hell, seeing as he can’t remember the last time he took care of himself. “Except a lot of people crashed the party and it all turned into madness. And I probably should’ve just called that girl then so we could go out somewhere else, but then I ended up having to clean most of the night so we didn’t lose our deposit.”

He sees it working, sees her softening around the edges. Isak feels a bit sick with himself.

“And then the next day, I was going to call her and apologize, but then things kept coming up, and now it’s just been too long, you know? Like, what can I even say that she would believe?” he shakes his head self-deprecatingly, like what Emma thinks of him is all that matters to him. “So, what would you say? If you were me and had to apologize to this brilliant girl?”

She flushes, keeps her eye on her coffee cup in Isak’s hand.

“I don’t know,” she finally says, looking up. She shrugs as if she’s above all of this. “Sounds like you’ve been a real asshole, so I don’t know what you could say to make it better.”

Isak hopes his grin manages to hide the grimace. “If it’s any consolation, things haven’t exactly been great on my end, either.” Shit, did he sound too bitter? He feels it, can’t help but thinking of all the sleepless nights, the worrying, the constant fear, that stupid, life-ruining article.

Yeah. ‘Not great’ doesn’t quite cover how fucking shitty Isak’s life has been for years, let alone the last month.

Emma hums. “You know, that does help a little.”

Isak rolls his eyes, but he makes sure to smile at Emma, and Emma smiles back at him, albeit faux reluctantly.

It’s a bad idea, even by Isak’s standards. Emma’s given him psycho-vibes from day one, seeming to be exactly the type of person who clings on to you until you’ve been smothered to death. That’s probably not fair of Isak, to be honest, and it’s also not fair of him to pretend he’s interested, that he’s not just being nice for the sake of being nice.

But he still feels Jonas’ eyes on the back of his neck as he’d made his escape back into his room. Can feel Mahdi’s and Magnus’ eyes on him, can feel every single person he’s ever met judging him silently for what has happened, and Isak wants to cry with the feeling of it, but mostly he wants to hide. He wants everything to go back to how it used to be. He wants to not feel like actually working on himself to make this his year should be so hard.

It’s silly because there’s absolutely no reason why anyone would suspect Isak of being the one secretly married to world-famous movie director Even Bech Næsheim, but Isak’s brain keeps going in circles how Even recognized Isak at the public party, and Jonas, Mahdi, and Magnus all know that Even knows Isak. Were he rational about this, he’d realize it’s too big of a leap to be realistic, but he isn’t being rational about this right now.

Plus, it doesn’t help anything seeing as Isak actually is the one Even is secretly married to. Was secretly married to – shit, he needs to stop thinking like that.

It’s such a bad idea, but he literally feels like he’s got everyone eyeing him up, seeing right through him, through the lies, and unless he gives them a reason to look away, they’ll find out. They’ll know.

“Let me make it up to you,” blurts out of his mouth before he can convince himself it’s better to just walk away, that this won’t solve anything. He winces internally as Emma lights up, trying to downplay it to seem coy.

“How?” she asks instead of agreeing, even though Isak knows she will.

“Want to get a cup of coffee?”

Emma lights up, beaming happily at him and holds her arm out so Isak can link them together if he wants to. Isak doesn’t want to. He gets out of it by waving his arms around frantically, asking overdramatically which coffee shop they should head to, because there’s one in either direction. One advertises with being incredibly eco-friendly, but the other was much cheaper and better suited for poor students –

By the time they get their coffee, Emma seems to have forgotten everything about having ever offered Isak to casually, publically-appropriately, touch her, which makes it a little easier to breathe. If it weren’t for how Isak’s using her for whatever equivalent of ‘street-cred’ this is supposed to be to ensure no one thinks he’s anything but straight.

Emma seems perfectly at ease with Isak already, which makes Isak feel like a dick. She genuinely is funny to hang around; not too afraid to get sassed or be sassy in return, although she’s a bit insecure about it.

Thankfully, she’s confident enough to keep the conversation going when Isak sees which coffee shop they end up at.

He usually avoids this one, takes detours to make sure he never goes near it. Which is stupid, Isak is being stupid, but this –

It feels like it’s everything that’s working against Isak, and now Isak is on something he imagines Emma thinks is a date with a girl, and everyone knows Even’s been married and is theorizing about the ‘who’-part, and he can’t look his best friends in the eyes, he can’t walk around campus because he keeps overhearing snippets of people’s conversations when they’re about Even, keeps pissing Sana off with his erratic behavior and snappy replies, and it’s this fucking coffee shop.

He almost tells Emma he wants to leave, wants to take a detour to a different coffee shop, or just buy her something else entirely, even as his bank account is already screaming at him at the prospect of buying anything more expensive than coffee.

But he won’t be able to explain to her why he wants to leave, not anything she’ll believe anyway, and he’s only just managed to get her un-pissed at him.

So he resolutely doesn’t stare at the window seats. Does think back five years to a very different first date – a date that had actually been a date to both participants.

They order their coffees, waits for them at the counter, Isak keeping his back to the window, focusing on playing around with some sugar packets. Then he steers Emma towards the back of the shop, towards a square table where they’ll have to sit opposite each other.

He just didn’t count on Emma sitting down with her back to the front entrance. Crap. It’ll be too forward if Isak were to scooch over on her side – not for Emma, but for Isak, who is already leading Emma on more than he’s comfortable with – and he doesn’t know how to ask her to switch sides.

Isak’s hand shakes when he sits down. He curls it into a fist, and then places it on his thigh underneath when that doesn’t look appropriate.

Just keep looking at Emma. Don’t look at anything else, not slightly to the left where the two tall chairs closest to the door are angled towards each other, like Isak and Even had just left, like it hadn’t been literal years since they sat there together.

She’s easy enough to talk to. Isak asks her about her major, learns she’s studying journalism, and that she recently moved in with two of her friends after breaking up with her ex-boyfriend, who Isak knows through Jonas and Mahdi was a model more than a handful of years older than them.

Isak’s still feeling too anxious to sit still, so he ends up rushing through drinking his coffee. It’s still too hot and his tongue feels uncomfortably numb afterwards. It’s also a bad idea, because the caffeine goes straight into his system and leaves him wired.

“They’re doing a special showing of ‘Circles’ at the old cinema,” Emma circles one finger along the rim of her glass. “Have you seen it?”

Isak’s heart pounds for all of the wrong reasons. He can’t, he can’t.

“Yeah,” Isak laughs like it’s as easy as breathing is supposed to be. “It’s pretty much constantly on at our house.

“Are you a fan, then?” she looks excited, like it’s all going according to her plan and Isak realizes what he’s pretty much just implied.

“Nah, not at all, actually. Magnus is the fanboy, talks about Næsheim and all of his movies constantly, pretty much always hogging the TV to play them. He’s been on a ‘Circles’ craze ever since it’s been nominated – I’m getting so sick of it, to be honest.”

“Oh,” Emma says, looking taken aback and Isak thinks he should feel bad about it – or at least worse, but all he’s feeling is relieved that she probably won’t ask him to go with her now.

Isak should probably be making some excuse as to why he needs to leave soon. Honestly, this had been a stupid idea and Isak is pretty sure it isn’t even helping anything.

Unfortunately, it takes longer for Isak to come up with an excuse than it does for Emma to recuperate.

“You know,” she grins widely at him, “since Magnus is such a big fan, I’m sure I know how to get him an autograph.”

Play the ‘getting along with your friends’ card, smooth. Isak blinks a bit too long just so he can roll his eyes without her seeing it. “You know Næsheim?”

Emma flushes a bit as she shakes her head. “No,” she admits, looking down at her mostly empty coffee again.

Isak plants his feet on the floor and moves to push his chair back so he can put away his trash and start to get out of there when Emma cuts in, “But I know Sonja?”

Isak freezes from where his hands are curled around the edge of the table, his back hunched uncomfortably, but it doesn’t even come across his mind to change position. “You know Sonja?”

It comes out sounding way too rude, but Emma is grinning widely like he’s acting astonished rather than impudent.

“Yeah! I ran into her a couple of weeks ago. I think you were there as well,” she hesitates, like she has to consider if that sounds a bit too creepy or stalker-ish, before she carries on, “some party? You left early.”

Isak had left early because he had run into Even. Does Emma know that he knows Even? He remembers her now, how she’d been dancing at the other end of the room and Jonas had been goading him into going over there to talk to her. Shit, Isak has spent so long trying to erase that entire night from his memory that he’s forgotten other things he really can’t afford to.

“She had to leave early, apparently Even left without telling her, which,” she takes a breath, “honestly, is quite a shitty thing for your boyfriend to do to you.”

Isak fights not to wince. He’s pretty sure it isn’t even directed at him, but he knows he’s done it in the past – not the boyfriend part, but the mosey-up-and-get-close-and-tease-for-something-more-only-to-turn-around-and-leave part, definitely one too many times.

He tries to convince himself that that is the part he’s wincing at, and not that Emma just implied what Isak should’ve figured was true, but has spent so long denying.

“They’re actually dating, then?” flies out of his mouth before he can stop himself. Shit, he shouldn’t have asked. Not only is it none of his fucking business what Even is or isn’t doing – and that includes who – but Isak isn’t sure he actually wants to hear the answer.

Emma looks a bit confused, but she’s also smiling teasingly. “Thought you weren’t a fan?”

Isak’s insides feel like ice as he tries to grin back smoothly convincingly enough. “Does that mean I’m not getting a quote from an ‘inside source close to the star’?”

Emma rolls her eyes as she leans back in her chair, but she’s still smiling so Isak figures he did well enough.

Not that he can really focus on it – not with his mind is frantically screaming, are they dating, are they not dating, are they dating, are they not dating?

Emma shrugs playfully. “I can tell you…” she draws out, “they seemed close, at the very least.”

And Isak laughs like he’s in on the game while all he can think is what the hell does that mean?

“We’ve been messaging a bit back and forth,” Emma continues like she doesn’t notice the war raging on inside of Isak. She probably doesn’t – isn’t supposed to, so if she doesn’t it means Isak is at least doing something right. “She’s really great, actually!”

“That’s nice,” Isak’s voice comes out too quiet, but at least it doesn’t deter Emma who continues jabbering on, not noticing that Isak isn’t actually paying attention.

Sonja’s great. ‘That’s nice’ both is and isn’t very fitting, but Isak doesn’t know what to think, what to make of any of this. Shit, he should stop going over it, all it’ll do is put him in an early grave.

“I don’t think she’s the one Even’s married to, though, loads of people don’t, actually, it got debunked the fastest out of all the options,” she continues, but Isak doesn’t really hear any of it. “Did you hear about that? Apparently, it got published without any warning. Sonja seemed quite stressed about it the last time I talked to her.”

It keeps on repeating in his head on an eternal loop. Sonja and Even, Even and Sonja. His blood is rushing to his head and he can barely focus on looking in Emma’s direction, let alone pay attention to what she’s saying.

“That’s nice,” he mutters, doesn’t even notice the odd look Emma throws in when it obviously doesn’t fit in with what she’s talking about.

Emma leans in closer. “Are you alright?”

Isak –

No. He isn’t alright. He’s not alright on so many levels, and he can’t tell anyone. Doesn’t want to tell anyone, really, and especially doesn’t want to tell Emma.

“I’m fine.”

It’s a mechanical answer. Isak doesn’t even have the energy to make it sound slightly believable, but either Emma just doesn’t care or he sells it well-enough, because she launches into a new conversation topic and leaves Isak behind in the last one.

“And then Maria said –“

“Actually,” he interrupts, not even sure what he’s interrupting but doing it anyway, “I’ve kind of got a study meeting in a little bit.” He doesn’t. Or maybe he does, he doesn’t know what day it is, knows Sana’s been blowing up his phone before finally having had it with his lack of answers, but that might as well have been about his no-show for lectures and tutorials these past few days.

Shit, is that suspicious? The news that Even’s married drop and Isak goes on lock down? Will anyone, let alone Sana, believe in ‘correlation, not causation’? Fuck. Fuck, he should pull himself together, before it’s too late and things will get really shitty.

“Oh,” is the only thing Emma says, but she looks disappointed. “Let me walk you –“

“No, it’s okay,” Isak hurries to say. “It’s out of your way; it’ll take ages for you to get home. We can pick this up another time, alright?”

He shouldn’t have said that. He’s a terrible person, and he’s a terrible person for thinking that Emma is both eager and convenient, but he needs this. Needs the cover, needs the excuse or explanation or whatever else in case everything comes tumbling down over his head.

She looks mollified enough at that, smiling again when Isak shuffles on his jacket and pushes away from the table.

It isn’t any easier to not look towards the window.

Emma remains sitting, keeps her eyes on him. Isak tries to make it casual that he isn’t looking at her, instead shuffling with a used napkin he puts in the pocket of his jacket, pushing his chair all the way in, apologizing when he accidentally bumps it against Emma’s foot.

In the end there’s no other excuse to not say a proper goodbye. He knows he has to do it, knows it’ll only make Emma question this entire interaction if he doesn’t say goodbye properly.

He pauses by her chair, taking in a deep breath and finally just look down at her.

Emma’s already looking at him. She tilts her head back a bit and Isak knows, he fucking knows what that move means, because he has done it countless of times whenever he wanted Even to bend down and kiss him goodbye, and Isak feels sick. Both from the thought of having to kiss her and from all the intrusive memories flashing through his mind.

“I’ll see you later,” Isak chokes out. Her slightly hurt look stays burned into his retinas as he turns his back on her and leaves.

Later, he’ll chide himself over not kissing her goodbye. It should be so easy – it is; he just had to bend down, press his lips to hers or to her cheek. It would be over within two seconds, and he couldn’t even do that.

OOOOO

“Boo, you whore.”

“Stop quoting ‘Mean Girls’!” Mahdi shouts at Magnus. “Honestly! How are we ever supposed to get any respect?” promptly ignoring Magnus’ protest about how Mahdi knew it was Mean Girls without anyone telling him.

Jonas snorts at Mahdi’s dramatics. “Guys who like typically defined ‘chick flicks’ are valid too and deserve respect as much as any other individual. Just because teenage girls don’t hold any cultural capital in our society –“

Magnus snaps his fingers wildly at Jonas in agreement. “This. Yes!” All whilst Mahdi is too busy groaning, “For fuck’s sake,” and making sounds like a dying beached whale.

“And I stand by my statement, Isak!” Magnus yells, louder this time like he wasn’t certain Isak would be able to hear it. “Boo. You. Whore!”

“Leave him alone,” Jonas admonishes. He means it kindly, Isak knows he does, but it still makes his heartbeat pick up and leaves him with a clammy feeling running down his back.

“Yeah,” Mahdi takes a sip of something. “He needs to study. Become a world-renowned scientist or some shit.” And that just makes the anxiety worse.

In all fairness, Isak does need to study. He’s skipped too many lectures and tutorials this past week, has five essays coming up, the first one due tonight and he’s barely made any headway through it. If he doesn’t pick up some of his slack, he’ll end up needing to ask for several extensions, which his professors will not be enthused about.

But he also knows that tonight is Movie Night-night, as dubbed by Magnus back when they’d still been in student housing and he’d wanted to dedicate a night as ‘Movie Night’ and ended up fucking up. It’s been a long-standing tradition ever since, all of them taking the time to relax and spend some time together.

They’ve had to tolerate Isak when he brings along his laptop and headphones when Magnus has chosen one of Even’s movies, turning his own volume up so high he can’t hear anything and sitting pointedly with his back to the TV-screen, but not so much that the pictures reflect on his own screen.

But this is the first time one of them doesn’t attend.

It was bound to happen, Isak tries to console himself. It was. They’re in uni now, and they can’t keep mucking about until they die of reckless stupidity.

It’s easier to convince himself of that than acknowledge the worry of having to be near the boys, of what’s okay to say and what isn’t, how should he sit, how should he talk, what if he does something they’ll question, or worse, doesn’t do something he’s supposed to and they’ll know.

So Isak sits in his room, trying to focus on the words on his screen, describing what exactly his professor wants from his paper, and tries to tune out the sound of laughter, the volume of the TV turned up, some action movie playing. Magnus whoops obnoxiously whenever an explosion happens, Mahdi adding other sound effects that do not fit in the context, and Jonas adding funnier dialogue options than the actual one in the movie, and Isak longs to have that to. To add stupid voiceovers, to fool around, to not second-guess every movement he makes, every word he says.

Fuck. Isak stares more intently at the screen. He’s missed the lecture on the final topic, he knows, but he doesn’t have time to read up on it. Shit.

At least this isn’t part of his final grade he consoles himself with and starts typing.

He knows a lot of it, and he saves time by not looking up the things he’s certain-to-only-mildly-certain about. He’s got three hours till deadline and he’s starting to think this might actually be possible when someone rings for their doorbell.

“Isak!” the boys all shout unsynchronized.

“It’s not for us!” Isak yells back without losing his place. He’s not forgetting his point just because some old lady can’t remember which apartment number her daughter lives in. “Who the hell do we know who’d ring the doorbell?”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, then the phone connected to the intercom starts ringing along with the bell. Jesus Christ.

“Just go check, man.” Jonas tells him.

“You’re closer to the door.”

“We’re watching a film!”

“I’m trying to avoid flunking out of uni!”

“It’s designated ‘Movie Night’-night,” Magnus yells, “and you’re bailing so you have to see who it is.”

Isak grumbles something incredibly unflattering, finishing the sentence and the next to last question.

The bell sounds again, a persistent ding dong.

“Isak!”

“I’m coming!” Isak yells as he hurries over to the intercom, picking up the phone. “Yello!”

“Um –“

Isak freezes, because he knows that voice. He knows that voice.

“Is this – I mean, it is, obviously – could I –“

“Wait in the hall,” Isak orders before slamming the phone in place.

His heart is racing and it’s only picking up speed the longer his finger hovers over the buzzer. He should press it. He’s going to press it, he needs to, he just told Even, Even, he would. He needs to let him in so Even won’t be left stranded on the street, easy pickings for any fan walking by, possible paparazzi – fuck, fuck, fuck – or until he calls again and the boys ask who keeps calling and Isak will have to lie, but how can he because Even will still be ringing –

He presses it.

He toes on his shoes and throws the door open, just picking up Mahdi enquiring who it is from the living room when the door slams shut behind him, cutting him off.

Even is here. Isak takes two steps at a time as he runs down the stairs, one of his shoes nearly flying off in the process. They only live on the first floor, but Isak needs to get far enough down that if the boys were to investigate what’s happening, they’ll have to thunder down the stairs as well before they’ll be able to even catch a glimpse of Even.

How does Even know where he lives? How did he find him? Distantly, he thinks he should be angry. What would’ve happened if he’d shown up when Isak wasn’t home? What if Magnus had been the one to answer the door? They already know something might be up, with Even knowing his name and all, but having Even show up at their front door is an entire different league of something. They would know, and Isak’s worked too damn hard for that to happen.

He doesn’t feel angry, he doesn’t think so. He feels – he feels a lot, and anger might be one of them, but he can’t distinguish it from all the others.

What Isak fails to think about, though, is that thundering down the stairs means he’s left standing in front of Even quicker than he otherwise would’ve been.

Because he’s there. Right in front of him. Standing right there, with a slightly surprised look on his face – Isak doesn’t know why, he is the one who showed up at Isak’s place – that quickly switches over to a more neutral look, despite the slight downward twinge to the corner of his mouth that had never been there before.

Shit, Isak shouldn’t think like that, he really shouldn’t.

He can’t help it, though. Even is standing right there, in his stupid jean jacket with the sheep skin lining and his stupid floppy hair and, Jesus, is that a blunt tucked in behind his ear? Isak almost wants to comment on it, just because he knows the nagging will annoy Even, but it’s an irrational thought and Isak isn’t a child and he shouldn’t be so petty, not before he knows what Even’s doing here.

“Isak,” Even breathes out, like the wind has been knocked out of his lungs; Isak’s sure feel like it.

Two years. Two years Isak hasn’t spoken to Even. Two years and he’s spoken to him twice within a couple weeks, and he’s only gotten the same word twice at that.

Isak feels like he might’ve actually slipped down those stairs, because the ground sure as fuck isn’t beneath his feet right now.

The anger is there now. Not aimed at Even, surprisingly, and it fucking hurts that Isak isn’t angry with Even, barely even angry at what he did. The anger is aimed at Isak, because he wants, he – he wants. He wants to throw himself at Even, wants to hold him, wants to be held by him, never wants to go years without him, without hearing Even say his name, and he shouldn’t want any of those things because Even left.

“What do you want?” It comes out too harsh for the situation, too cold and impatient, but Isak doesn’t know how to do this, and that for some stupid reason considering it’s been two years hurts even more than the pain of seeing Even, because two years ago he wouldn’t know how to do anything but. “How do you know where I live?”

Even physically takes a step back, faltering in whatever confidence he’s managed to build up being a world-famous director, and in that second he looks a lot more like the Even Isak had known; the Even that had been a little broken but human, but then whatever media-mask his PR-team has taught him slips on and any trace of Isak’s Even disappears.

It should make it easier, probably, doing this, but it doesn’t. It’s still Even, and Isak can’t fool himself into believing anything else. It’s just Even who’s learned how to hide himself away behind mask – just like Isak.

Even shrugs. “I asked around.”

Isak’s heart is pounding. “Asked who?” If he’s spent so much time working so damn hard to ensure no one ever finds out and Even’s just up and ruined it, Isak will – he’ll – he doesn’t know what he’ll do.

Did he ask Eskild? Did he take away the one person who sacrificed so much for Isak, who gave Isak so much he’ll forever be indebted to him? He wouldn’t, Isak doesn’t think Even would do that, but he also didn’t think Even would ever seek him out, would be standing in front of him ever again.

Even makes a frustrated little sound, shakes his head like he’s taking it back again. “No, I – Mikael just mentioned where Magnus lives, and your friends apologized for their roommate bailing like that at the party. I just – I didn’t do that, I –“ another little noise.

The reassurances don’t do a lot; don’t really do anything to help Isak, his heart is still pounding too quickly to be normal.

“We should talk,” Even’s voice is low, thank god; Isak does not want any of their neighbors or the boys coming out to check what’s happening.

Isak flinches. “Not a lot to talk about, is there?”

Isak sees the brief flare of annoyance in Even’s eyes – that still looks the same as well, then – before his mask covers anything back up again.

“There’s more than enough to talk about,” Even’s jaw clenches slightly, just a little twinge that Isak hates himself for picking up on. “But if you want, we can focus on the main issue, if you’d like.”

“The certificate.”

Isak’s stomach flips when Even tilts his head slightly, almost like that wasn’t what he’d been expecting Isak to say. What the fuck else would he have to say?

“Right,” Even draws it out, painfully. Isak can feel the heel of his shoe digging into the sole of his foot, making his ankles slowly start to ache. “I have a team looking into it, see what happened. It’s public information, but the journalist would’ve had to know where to look and at some pretty precise dates as well, so…”

Even trails off, looking awkwardly at Isak before it hits him in a face like a brick.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Isak snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. Isn’t that the story of his fucking life. He won’t stay out here for more than five more minutes, he promises himself. He can hold on for five more minutes. “If that’s what you’re implying.”

Even seemingly doesn’t react to the harsh tone of voice or the choice of words, he just tells Isak he hadn’t thought so.

He hadn’t thought so? At least it was nice that Even had enough faith in him to not go blab to any and everyone as soon as he left for bigger and better things than Isak could offer, that Even was a firm believer of Isak’s higher morale. It almost makes him want to tell everyone simply out of spite, but he knows he’d be the one to take the fall more than Even would, so it doesn’t even matter.

“But my team wanted to ask if it was possible someone had come across your copy?”

And there it is.

“Unlikely.” That part at least is true. “I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten rid of it. If I haven’t, I haven’t the faintest idea where it is.” Lies, lies, lies. Isak should be used to it by now, shouldn’t let himself be affected by how bad a taste it leaves behind on his tongue.

Even nods once, slowly and in almost chopped up movements, like his body has forgotten how to work its muscles. “Really?”

His voice sounds oddly small, but Isak doesn’t, can’t, let himself focus on that. Instead, he focuses on the anger flaring up in his body.

‘Really?’ ‘Really?’ Is Even so fucking full of himself that he believes Isak would’ve held onto that stupid fucking paper? Isak wants to shove it in Even’s face, show him just how over and done he really is over this entire ordeal, over him, but he doesn’t, can’t. His copy of the certificate is hidden away in the pages of an old schoolbook on the top shelf of his closet, pushed all the way to the back next to all the other crap he and Even had filled their apartment with that he hasn’t been able to get rid of yet, that he definitely lied to Even about getting rid of.

“They didn’t even have a picture of it, anyway,” Isak points out through clenched teeth. “It was just a rumor. If they actually had access, then they would’ve just put the damn certificate in the article. See? No reason to panic.”

Every reason to panic, actually, but Isak only has 212 seconds left to count down before he’s going to send Even away.

Even’s shoulders slump down far enough that he ends up being more like Isak’s height. He looks tired, exhausted even, maybe, and it feels like second nature for Isak to start wondering if he’s been sleeping enough, does he remember to take care of himself, is he smoking so much it has started to mess with him?

Isak digs his fingernails into his ribcage through his t-shirt. It aches, but it does enough to draw his attention away from Even and onto himself again – just like he should.

“The date was right,” Even points out, another goddamn shrug like this isn’t their life, or what once was their life they’re talking about. “More than likely, it’s only a matter of time.”

‘Matter of time’. It sends a horrifying chill rushing through his blood, and a shiver runs through him as Isak twists his head to the side, unable to keep looking at Even.

What the fuck is Isak supposed to do? About that? If – when it happens?

“But, uh –“ Even hesitates, he shuffles around on his feet, shifting his weight back and forth, “give me a call, if you hear something? Or anything, really. My number’s the same, if you still have it.”

Isak bites his lip to keep from telling Even he doesn’t. It would only mean Even would code it into his phone, just like he’d done when he’d met him for coffee that first time, taking a stupid selfie with Isak next to him that popped up every time Even called him.

It technically wouldn’t even be a lie because Isak did delete his number out of his phone, but he still remembers it like the back of his hand and he still has all of their texts saved. Isak doesn’t want to tell him any of this, though, so he just nods once and then keeps his body passively still as he waits for Even to leave.

It was an obvious goodbye, so why the hell isn’t Even leaving already?

He’s just standing there, shuffling around awkwardly as he stuffs his hands into his pockets. What does he want?

“So!” Even clearly forces his voice to sound brighter, friendlier and Isak wants to roll his eyes at his attempt of whatever. “Do you – I mean, do you think we could talk –“

“I’ve got a lot of things I need to do,” Isak takes a step back up the stairs backwards, supporting himself on the banister.

Even’s smile drops off his face at the dismissal and he looks so infinitely sad that Isak almost changes his mind, just stays if Even asks for it, but luckily Even doesn’t say anything, just nods a few times and more goddamn shuffling and not any closer to the last flight of stairs at that either.

“Oh, right. Okay. I’ll let you get back, then. Uh, do you –“

“Thanks for stopping by,” Isak cuts in. He doesn’t know what Even was going to say, but Isak really isn’t in the mood to try his luck.

“Right,” he looks down at his feet, body hunched in on itself and for a second, a second, Isak just wants to throw himself at him, just hold on until all of it goes away, all those years and the media and the secrets and all of it.

He remains in place. Even looks back up at him, a small, almost cautious smile on his lips.

“It was nice seeing you.”

“Yeah,” Isak mutters. He can’t bring himself to say it back as he watches Even finally go down the stairs, not moving until he sees the front door close behind Even.

He takes one moment to inhale deeply and blink harshly, and then he runs back up the stairs and gets himself into his apartment. The thud of the door closing sounds a bit too final for his taste.

“Who was it then?” Jonas calls out before Isak can rush past the living room and down the hall to his own room.

Isak pauses in the doorway. He can’t seem too frazzled, they’ll know – or, they’ll know something, so he tries to stand there like he isn’t desperately trying to catch his breath.

“Uh –“ fuck, he should’ve thought about that before he went back in. If only his mind wasn’t so goddamn frazzled all of the time. “Sana. She had to drop off some notes for molecular biology.” Nailed it.

Magnus looks at him quizzically. “Where are they then?”

“Huh?”

“The notes.”

Fuck.

“Oh!” Isak tries to laugh it off, but the laugh he manages to get out comes out too high-pitched and utterly false. “She forgot to bring them.”

And now both Jonas and Mahdi are also looking at him weirdly. Shit, fuck, shit.

“She… forgot to bring the notes she came over to give you?” Jonas asks carefully.

“Yeah, she’ll just email me them instead. Much easier that way, too.” Isak nods a couple times, looking over at whatever movie all of them are watching instead of looking over at them, expecting to see some crap action movie, but instead greeted with a blue hue and soft music. Goddamn it, he recognizes the pool scene immediately – it’s one of Even’s, he just can’t catch a break today. “Anyway, I should probably get some reading done, ha det.”

There’s panic thrumming through his body and he feels so angry and he doesn’t want this anymore, feeling like this, being like this.

He practically runs down the hallway, slamming the door shut behind him with enough force his window and walls shudder a bit in protest. None of the boys yell at him for it, but Isak still presses his forehead against the door, the wood cold against his too clammy skin.

Shit, Isak thinks as his legs give out and he folds like a house of cards. One of his knees bang against the door too loudly, but he can’t hear anyone coming to check on him so he figures he’s in the clear.

As much of in the clear as he can be given the situation he’s managed to end up in.

Shit, seems pretty fitting to repeat, so Isak does just that. Shit. Then adds on a fuck for good measure.

He still has the paper he needs to finish. Isak wants to cry, and it’s not over goddamn biological modification.

Fuck.

Past

“Isak,” Eskild whines, drawing out the vowels as he leans dramatically against the door frame.

Isak rolls his eyes at Eskild’s antics – honestly, you’d think he had been taking lessons from Even, except, well, except Eskild’s never met Even.

“Why are you leaving us? Don’t you like us anymore?”

“’f course I like you,” Isak placates, folding yet another shirt and putting it onto the pile on his bed.

“It’s just,” Eskild pouts, “you’d rather move into some dingy one-bedroom flat all by yourself than stay here with us.”

The flat is dingy, no doubt about it, but he won’t be by himself. He doesn’t know how to tell Eskild that, though, not after so long with so many secrets.

Isak shrugs and tries to ignore the guilt and self-hatred swirling around in his stomach, mixing into an unpleasant cocktail. “I just think it’ll be a nice change. I think I might need it.”

“Then why?” drawing out the ‘y’. “Did… did we do something? Did I?”

That makes Isak actually look up at Eskild, really see him.

Isak swipes his pile of nicely folded clothes off of the bed. Even will moan and groan about it, but this takes precedence.

“Listen, I’m not good at emotions, you know that, but I don’t want to leave and have you think it was something you did that caused it. I am so grateful to you, I don’t think you realize how much.”

Eskild’s always been a very emotive person, has never hesitated to show himself to the people around him. But now he’s trying to hide his genuine upset from Isak, and whilst Isak can understand why he does it and probably would’ve been grateful for it had he not been so certain this was the right move, he doesn’t ever want to be the person who makes Eskild feel like Isak does every waking moment of the day.

“I – I don’t –“ Isak lets out a harsh breath. “I don’t know where I would be right now if it weren’t for you. Or, I do know, I’d probably be out on the street somewhere, or getting into shit way over my head. I wouldn’t have been able to get away from the shit back ho-“ he hesitates. “Back then. And I should’ve told you sooner how much that meant to me, that you just took me in like that, gave me a place to stay, saw that I needed help and just gave it without questioning it. And then just pile on all the other things you’ve done for me ever since, I –”

Isak shakes his head, feeling a little breathless. He’ll never be able to pay Eskild back, he knows that, but figuring out the words to tell him that isn’t easy.

“Then why?” Eskild asks instead of waiting for Isak to clear his head, sitting down on the now available bed. “If this is about Noora coming back, she and I have already talked about it! She’ll room with me, it won’t be an issue in the slightest!”

Isak refuses to look at Eskild, absolutely refuses. He won’t be able to handle what he’ll see, not when Eskild so genuinely wants for Isak to stay.

But Isak can’t. It’s a three-bedroom apartment; four people will make it tight, let alone five people, especially when the fifth person is a secret. It’s already enough of a challenge to sneak Even in, working around everyone’s schedules to avoid getting caught, it’ll be outright impossible if Isak has to work around another additional person.

“It’s not about Noora,” Isak says, because it isn’t. He’d already agreed to move in with Even by the time Eskild had started shouting excitedly about Noora coming back from Spain. “And I know it wouldn’t have been a problem, it’s just –“

He trails off. What could he possibly say to make Eskild understand? Without revealing something Isak’s not ready for anyone to know? Even – Isak wants to marry Even. He’d promised himself to cool it with those kinds of thoughts, at least until they were at a place in time where he wouldn’t have to convince Even it was true, that he would just believe it, but that doesn’t change the fact that Isak hasn’t changed his mind about it. He still wants to marry Even. He wanted to marry him yesterday, he wants to marry him today, and he’ll want to marry him tomorrow.

“Everyone deserves to have a home they can come back to.” Isak looks up at Eskild and tries not to make it too evident that whilst his bedroom door was shut, Isak had found a home of his own.

Eskild’s eyes are teary. Isak has to bite his lip to not tear up himself at the sight.

“That includes you too, you know?” Eskild’s voice is barely louder than a whisper. It’s shaking. “You’re always welcome here. You’ll always be welcome here. Whether it’s because you change your mind and want to move back in, or just to stay for a night, or even if you just want a hug or a friendly face or a dinner with friends, you can have it.”

And Isak – Isak was aware of how lucky he was to have run into Eskild, to have someone like Eskild in his life, to have Eskild in his life, but at time like this where it’s so evident what Isak has, it’s – it’s overwhelming how much gratitude Isak really has for Eskild.

“Thank you,” he says instead of ‘I know’.

“It’s just that I worry,” Eskild sounds frustrated, acts frustrated. His hands are curled up in lose fists that he keeps flailing about as if it’ll get his point across. He looks a bit desperate.

Oh, Isak thinks. This might be what it’s like to have parents who care about you – to not have a dad who’ll send rent money without asking about anything else, without checking where you live, with whom you live, or to not have a mom who sees right through you. Not that Isak thinks of Eskild like a parent, he’s too much of a friend to be a father.

But he’s someone he looks up to, and he’s someone he can rely on, that he can ask for help from. Someone who’ll give it to him without a question.

“You shut yourself in your room so often, completely closed-off from the world, and now you’re going to go live all by yourself –“ Eskild lets out a frustrated little noise. “I just – I want what’s best for you, you know that, right?”

It would be easy, Isak knows, just to say it right now. Not that – not that bit, about Even being his long-term boyfriend that he’s moving in with, but he could say that Even’s just going to be his roommate.

Isak wouldn’t have to hide Even away like he was a dirty secret, something to not be proud of, and he’d still get to keep himself a secret. He wouldn’t have to stand here and lie to Eskild why he’s moving out, probably forever leaving the tiny amount of doubt in Eskild’s head that he’s the one to have done something wrong, when Isak’s the one who can’t seem to do anything right.

Anything but this, anyway, because Even –

Even is definitely a right.

He would be able to tell Eskild he could come over whenever, that he wouldn’t practically be forbidden from seeing Isak’s new place because it would be too obvious two people were living there.

Not for the first time, Isak wishes he was braver, and for the first time, he wishes Eskild knew.

And then it feels like someone’s poured a bucket of freezing water over his head, and he knows it wouldn’t have worked out.

He’s seen Eskild get ready for events, get ready for dates, get ready for casual sex. Has seen the way he dresses, his dates dress, the makeup and the slang and the stereotype playing out right in front of his eyes, and all Isak can think is that’s not him. He’s not like that, and that’s enough to want to keep his mouth shut.

Isak directs his attention back onto the pile of now unfolded clothes on his floor. It’ll set him back by nearly an hour if he has to redo it neatly, but he won’t have room if he just shoves it in the bag. Something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh,” he says, sweeping the Jesus t-shirt off the pillow. The material is soft and worn, clearly loved from Eskild using it and then Isak’s multiple uses as well. He’ll miss it. He holds it out to Eskild. “This is yours.”

Eskild looks at the t-shirt, looks at the faded picture, looks at the small distance between Isak’s outstretched hand and his own body.

When he looks up at Isak, his eyes are soft but his smile is sad.

“You keep it.”

The t-shirt feels a lot heavier in his arms after that, feels even heavier in the IKEA-bag he stuffs it inside along with all his other clothes. It weighs down on his shoulder as Eskild hugs him tightly, sniffling quietly.

It wouldn’t have worked anyway, Isak consoles himself when the finality of the door sliding shut behind him settles in. Telling Eskild that Even was only a roommate. They’re going to live in a one bedroom apartment, with just enough space for a dresser, their bed, and a small table with two chairs in the corner. Where would Isak say that Even sleeps? With him in the double bed? There’s only so far ‘no homo’ can go.

It’s a bit difficult to breathe, but Isak knows Even makes it easier, so he makes a start down the stairs and heads home.

OOOOO

‘Home’ really is… something.

It’s small and it’s shit and it’s on the fourth floor which leaves Isak’s lungs burning, then makes him want to hack them up when they repeatedly have to walk up and down the stairs to bring all their stuff in.

This would’ve been a much easier process if they just had friends who knew, but they don’t so they make do.

It turns out nice enough, at least, and it’s all of their stuff mixed together which makes something pleasant surge through Isak’s stomach. It’s Isak’s bed sheets and Even’s pillows and Isak’s favorite hoodie of Even’s that’s hung over the back of one of the chairs. It’s Even’s camera gear spread over the top of the dresser, and Isak’s school books on the improvised bookshelf, and it’s their clothes mixed together in the dresser, the scent of Even, of the two of them permeated so deeply in everything Isak touches nowadays it makes him feel giddy beyond compare.

It’s even nice when they end up having to deep-clean the place before they can use it. Isak makes a joke about hvitevarer inkludert as he messes with the freezer, and Even jokes that Isak in another universe would’ve put it as a caption on Instagram or some shit. Isak tells him he hopes there isn’t a single universe where there’s an Isak who’s so pretentious.

It’s movie nights where they can both laugh as loudly as they want. It’s mornings where Isak gets to see Even wrapped in a towel as he comes out of the bathroom, or the best kinds of mornings where Isak gets to take the shower with Even. It’s having sex as loudly as they want, wherever in the matchstick box-sized apartment they live in they want – mostly in the bed, but neither of them holds back just because of that. It’s finding out Even makes the best scrambled eggs Isak’s ever tasted, and that they delegate scrambled egg-cooking to Even because Isak’s eggs always turn out either undercooked or overcooked. Instead, if they’re in the mood, Isak can make quite decent sunny-side ups or a simple omelet.

A lot of it’s the same as before. They do homework together, Even bounces off ideas on Isak, Isak gives well-balanced encouragement and critique when Even needs it and spends the rest of the time enjoying the peek into the worlds Even create like it’s nothing.

Some of it’s a little different, but probably for the better. Even opens up about his therapy sessions, about his medication. Doesn’t hide himself away, even when he’s so frustrated with the entire thing and clearly wants to pretend it doesn’t exist.

When Isak’s finally sorted out the last cutlery drawer, he walks back into the bedroom-slash-dining area-slash-recreation room to see how Even’s faring with putting away their last bits of clothing.

Even’s lying on the bed, feet still firmly on the floor, which makes it look a bit like he just gave up and threw himself on the bed, not bothering to get on it properly.

“Hei,” Isak says, sauntering over to the bed as well. He lies down next to Even, but swings his feet up so they’re propped up against the wall and he and Even end up lying upside-down. “Does it feel like home?”

He doesn’t ask does it feel as much as home to you as it does to me? Even probably gets it anyway.

Even hums noncommittally.

Maybe it’s just because of Isak’s own insecurities, this deeply rooted fear that people around him always end up leaving, but he really wants to know that Even hasn’t changed his mind, that this is still it for him, so he scoots closer until he can nudge his nose against Even’s cheek.

It startles a laugh out of Even, which naturally makes Isak smile as well. Seeing Even lit up, smiling so brightly always does that.

But it gets Even to look at him, to slide a hand into Isak’s curls, running his fingers through them. Isak hums, pleased.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Even promises him, then languidly presses his lips against Isak’s until Isak is dizzy with lack of air and his entire body feels like it’s melted into the sheets.

It’s slow and it’s perfect and there’s no rush, because for the first time, there’s no threat of anyone coming barging in, of wanting their attention, of needing to hide the other from the world. This is their place, their home, and they get to do whatever they want, they get to live in this small, square bubble tucked away from the world.

“Do you think,” Even asks, lips still moving against Isak’s with every word. It tingles, stings a little from overworked muscles at this point, “that there’s another Isak and Even who just started their life together in their new home?”

And Isak’s mouth hurts but he can’t help the stretch of the smile, the bubbles forming inside his stomach. God, he’s so in fucking love.

“Definitely,” he agrees.

Even hums contemplatively. “What do you think their home looks like?”

You, Isak thinks but doesn’t say. It looks like you. Whatever you look like in those universes, that’s what every Isak’s home looks like.

“The same,” he says instead, “except they’ve got, like, different colored curtains or something.”

Even smiles and pulls back a bit so he can look over at their window. “Yeah? What color?”

Isak turns his head so he can look at their white curtains, watch the way the sunlight shines straight through but the color of it gets trapped. He thinks of long nights with the summer sun, lighting up Even’s hair golden and coloring their skin until everything about him looks ethereal.

“Yellow curtains,” he tells Even, turning back so he can kiss him again. “They chose yellow curtains.”

For the first time, Isak’s excited about going home. He wonders if this was what it was like for everyone else. All those times his classmates had spent the day looking forward to getting to go home and relax, kick their feet back, and Isak had looked at them and wondered why they wanted to do that, why they wanted to go from one place of stress to another.

It’s not stressing getting to come home to Even.

Isak also hadn’t felt stressed about getting to live at the Kollektiv, except for the fear of living with other people who could find out.

There’s no fear now. There’s only Even and the life Isak is building with him for the two of them. They’re stealing a space for themselves in a corner of the world without anyone realizing it. It’s their safe-space, the place just for the two of them, and when Isak has to leave for school, he longs to come back home.

And Even feels the same way, Isak knows. He has set up an entire editing station so he’ll get to leave campus and work earlier, even as he progressively spends more and more time there the more people get to know him.

Isak knows the feeling, knows how captivating Even is, how hypnotic and mesmerizing he is, and Isak’s proud of Even, but at the same time he relishes in being the one Even wants to come home to, the one he’s excited to see at the end of the day, the one he wants to share what he did that day with, who wants to hear about Isak’s own day.

It’s all the little things that make it easier that money is a bit tight. Isak’s dad still sends rent money, and Even’s got his job, which for every promotion pays more and more, but they live in Oslo and nothing is cheap. Isak’s only a second year, but he’s taking a lot of A-levels, and second-year means he has to finish up every subject that isn’t an A-level, and with all the time he spends studying he can’t keep a job on the side.

So they live on a budget and make sure to keep to it. Even has a tendency to be a bit spontaneous with money, so Isak has the foresight to set a small amount aside every month as a ‘just in case’. Even’s parents also send something extra every once in a while, so despite Isak’s initial concerns, it’s easy enough to make do with what they’ve got.

Come spring, when the long winter months are over and they’ve both settled into the usual school routines again, Even’s had an additional two promotions, was personally asked for by one of the higher ups, and has five separate directors’ numbers in his phone – two of whom he’s in regular contact with, and another one he’d had dinner with and met his family.

It gets easier and easier now that Even has some actual film school exams under his belt, more and more people are interested in talking to him, even if it’s just polite interest at first, Even wins them over, easy as nothing.

He gets the opportunity to co-direct a short film with one of his new director friends. It’s just a small thing, Even tries to downplay it when he tells Isak about it, but Isak can tell it means a lot to Even, even if it actually is a rather small thing. It’s web-based, and it’s mostly without pay, but Even loves doing it. He’ll spend nearly entire days on set, and once that’s done he’ll barely leave the editor’s station. Isak misses him terribly when he comes home to an empty apartment, goes to sleep all by himself, and most mornings wake up to find Even’s already left again.

But it’s worth it when Even shows him the rough cut, when Isak has to watch it three consequtive times – once just to take it all in, which technically gets split into two because he starts crying with how proud of Even he is and they have to rewind it to the beginning, the official second time to hear Even’s commentary about everything that went on behind the scenes, about all the decisions they had to make, why that shot was framed the way it was and why it was important, and then a final third time to take it all in – to remember the story by itself and then pair it with the knowledge of why it meant something to Even and everyone else who’d worked hard on it.

Isak cries two times more, and Even laughs at him and says, it wasn’t even sad! which is true, because it was more of a comedic drama, if that’s a thing, but at the same time he hugs Isak close and presses closed-mouth kisses all over his face as Isak blubbers about how much he liked it and how fucking proud he is of Even, until Even’s the one who has tears in his eyes.

They learn a lot about each other – both good and less good, as is normal. Even is basically incapable of doing the laundry and Isak’s insomnia leaves him testy and grumpy. Even’s fears about his bipolar being too much for Isak are proved to not be true. Besides, Even’s been on medication that works for him for a couple years by now, and whenever a cycle does begin, they’re smaller ones that don’t leave Even with too much self-hatred. Whenever things start to get overwhelming, they slow time down, take it minute by minute until everything feels okay again.

But most importantly, they learn that not only is this, them, doable, it’s wanted. Isak never wants anything else, anything more than what he gets to have right now, and it’s the most amazing feeling in the world – nearly as amazing as learning that Even wants the same.

When Isak asks Even to marry him this time, it’s just as spontaneous, just as little buildup as the first time. Isak still doesn’t have a ring to give Even, but there’s no hesitation. Even just says yes.

Next Part

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

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lumosinlove · 6 years ago

Text

Solntse

part x

Remus wakes the next morning to the bed dipping as Sirius sits on it and bends to tie his shoes. Remus’ eyes blink open to the sight of his white button down, summer-thin, stretching across the muscles of his back as they shift with the movement of his hands.

And Remus will admit. It takes him a moment to remember. And when he does, the split second of sorrow he felt is intensified and then washed away by the equally strong wave of warm elation that replaces it. He feels so giddy his chest hurts as he reaches out to run his palm down Sirius’ back.

Sirius turns around with a little gasp, and then he’s rambling before Remus can even open his mouth. He makes a sad little noise, full lip poking out in what can only be called a pout, and turns until he can half lay on the bed, reaching to wrap Remus, still sleep warm, in his arms. “I’m know, I’m know, not want to leave, baby. Have breakfast. Stupid breakfast with stupid work people. They not know I’m have hot boyfriend in bed, so stupid they make me go.” He presses a long kiss to Remus’ lips, licking hotly into his mouth, but starts talking again almost instantly, “I’m think maybe wake up early, but look so cute sleep, Remus. All warm, so hard wake up but want kisses, too—“

“Hey, hey.” Remus presses his thumb to Sirius’ bottom lip, then replaces it with a kiss of his own, “It’s okay, love.” He really wishes Sirius didn’t have to go, but his fantasies from the plane are at the back of his mind, too. He runs his fingers down the collar of Sirius’ shirt, imagining what it’ll be like to peel it off of him. “I’ll be here when you get back.” And he lets go, sprawling his bare body against the white sheets in what he hopes is at least somewhat hot, “For kisses and…whatever you want.”

Sirius looks at him for a long moment, lips parted. Then he throws his hands up and rises from the bed, “Now I’m hard while try to talk to people and eat egg. All your fault, Remus.”

Remus laughs and bites his lip as he watches Sirius work to adjust himself in his pants. It’s not like he’s easy to hide. Remus is mid-stretch when Sirius’ voice makes him open his eyes again.

“Hey.” He’s got their room key and his sunglasses in one hand. His shirt is rolled up to his forearms and his hair is still a little sleep-mussed. Remus wants to die a little when Sirius smiles at him. “Love you.”

Remus lets his head fall back against the mound of pillows, “Love you.”

He orders himself breakfast while Sirius is away at his. Just some yogurt and granola. He figures Sirius will probably be doing more talking than eating, and he wants to be able to enjoy a large lunch with him later. Maybe on the beach. There’s a part of him that still never wants to leave the hotel room until they’ve made up for all their lost time and he feels thoroughly fucked, but…they’re here. They should enjoy it.

What he doesn’t expect, is to fall asleep in one of the shady chairs next to their small pool out front, but when he wakes up to warm fingers through his hair, he smiles even before his eyes are open.

“Hi, sleepy.” Sirius leans down to brush his lips over Remus’ cheek, then presses a slower one to his mouth. “Miss me so much you nap?”

Remus laughs, but looking at how the sun is haloing Sirius’ dark hair just then, something sizes in his chest and he can’t imagine how he let him go so easily this morning. He makes a little noise and pulls his knees into his chest so he can reorient them around Sirius’ waist, “Did you have a good breakfast?”

Sirius hums as he pulls Remus the rest of the way. He rucks Remus’ shirt up to rub gently at the base of his spine, “Boring. Talk a lot, be hungry soon.” He sighs and bites gently at Remus’ jaw—maybe just because he can, “You eat?”

“Just a little. I figured you wouldn’t get to have much. We can go to the restaurant soon.” Even before he finishes the sentence, Sirius is grumbling. Remus laughs, “And then go to the beach later, with all those people around. Then maybe we’ll go to the bar before dinner—“

“Killing me, Remus, oh my god.”

Remus presses his smile into Sirius’ neck and plays his fingers through the short hairs at the back of his neck. He leans back for a short kiss, “What, you don’t want to eat lunch with me?”

“Eat you for lunch.” Sirius grumbles, and then, for the third time, Remus finds himself lifted into Sirius’ arms.

Remus laughs, “Okay, I am actually hungry though.” He kisses a little burst across Sirius’ sunned nose.

Sirius laughs, “Always hungry.” He plops Remus down on the bed and braces his forearms on either side of his head. His neckless falls from beneath his shirt, pooling at Remus’ throat, and Remus reaches up to feel the tight stretch of his button down over his back. “I’m take care. What you want for lunch, карамель?”

Remus presses his lips together, thinking.

Sirius raises an eyebrow.

Remus moves his hands to the front of Sirius’ shirt and slowly starts working the buttons until the shirt is hanging open, “Lobster roll.”

Sirius grins and brings his knees up onto the bed on either side of Remus’ hips. Once seated on Remus’ lap, he pushes the material from his own shoulders, letting it pool around his hips and onto the bed, “I’m know that not all.”

Remus bites his lip, letting his eyes wander, “Plantain chips, maybe.”

Sirius smiles, “You tell me everything you want, always.” Then he leans down, all warm skin and bruising kisses, and mumbles against Remus’ mouth, “I’m do for you, anything.”

Remus looks up at him, at his heat-curled hair and light eyes. He feels the familiar tightness in his chest that occurs when he really just…can’t believe. He smiles a small, disbelieving smile, and reaches up to trail his knuckles across Sirius’ cheek. “You’re pretty phenomenal, you know that?”

Sirius smiles back, but his eyebrows draw together a little, “That word scare me.”

That startles a laugh out of Remus, and he pulls Sirius down and just—hugs him. As tight as he can. Sirius sinks into it, and Remus likes how he can feel his chest expand and contract against his body as he breathes. It’s comforting, to have something he loves this much this close.

Sirius yawns warm against Remus’ neck, and Remus cards his fingers through his hair, “You got up pretty early, love. Why don’t we just relax here. I can get us lunch in a bit, yeah?”

Sirius hums, pressing what already feels like a sleepy kiss to Remus’ neck, “Is good, yes.”

Remus glances down, “Here.” Despite Sirius’ noises of protests, he manages to untangle himself long enough to work on Sirius’ belt and jeans, pulling them off, “Socks on or off?”

“Off. Hot.”

Remus balls them up and throws them near their suitcases. He sort of loves how knobby Sirius’ ankles are, and runs a quick thumb over the closest one before climbing back towards the head of the bed, where Sirius is pulling back the covers for them. He will admit though, Sirius shuffling around their hotel room in socks back in London was one of his favorite things. He can’t wait to see it in New York.

When they wake up again the sun is only just starting to lower and Remus’ back is a little sweaty where its pressed to Sirius’ chest. Sirius has him completely drawn in. His hand is splayed against Remus’ chest, like he’s pushing them closer together even in his sleep. Remus tries to stay as still as he can while simultaneously kicking as much of the sheets away from his body as possible. He freezes when Sirius makes a sleepy noise.

“What time?” His voice cracks and Remus melts.

“Looks like we only slept for a few hours.” He cranes his neck to look at the digital clock on the bedside table, “2:30.” He places his palm over the back of Sirius’ where its resting against his stomach, “Do you want to go swimming?”

Remus can feel Sirius’ smile against the back of his neck, “Naked?”

Remus laughs, “I’m pretty sure we have to wear a swimsuit.”

“I’m pay them most money,” Sirius’ smile has turned into kisses, “We do what we want.”

“That’s definitely not how nudity works.” Remus snorts and turns so they’re chest to chest, sheets a little twisted around their ankles, “Besides, we can do that in our pool.” He grins at Sirius’ noise of interest, “Tonight.”

“Okay, we swim. Get food at beach.” He throws the sheets off of him and walks naked to his suitcase. “Wear blue swimsuit I buy you, best on you.”

Remus rolls his eyes, “You only like it because it’s short. It could be neon pink and you wouldn’t care.”

Sirius sends him a grin over his shoulder, “Most true. So what?”

Remus wears the blue swimsuit.

“Hey, put head back! Not trust me?”

Remus laughs, tightening his arms around Sirius’ neck as the water laps around them, “Not at all, you’re definitely going to dunk me.”

Sirius has Remus cradled in his arms and is trying to convince him to lay back in the water. He’s smirking while doing it though, and Remus is wary.

“I’m what? Dunk?”

Remus cracks one eye open against the sun, “Yeah. You know, like a cookie.”

It occurs to him a second too late that that was the wrong thing to say.

Sirius’ laugh sounds surprised out of him and he does, in fact, dunk Remus—well, dunks them both. Remus just has time to close his eyes against the salty water, and then laughs at the way Sirius’ hair is plastered against his forehead. At least until Sirius shakes his head like a dog, and it curls up again.

“Yes, perfect,” He says, and swings Remus around so that Remus’ legs lock around his waist and he can brush their noses together, “I’m dunk like cookie. Sweet enough, карамель. New name?”

“No way.” Remus laughs. He rests his cheek against Sirius wet shoulder, presses a little kiss to his neck. Sirius stands, just holding him in the waves for a moment. “I like this.”

Sirius strokes a palm over his neck. It’s probably a little slimy with sunscreen, but Sirius doesn’t seem to mind, “Like close?” He murmurs against Remus’ ear, to which Remus hums a yes. “Like ocean?”

“Yeah.” Remus sighs, pushing his fingers through the short hair at the back of Sirius’ neck, “Or just you.”

Sirius scoffs and shifts Remus so he can look at him, “Like me? I’m dunk you again!”

“I’ll bring you with me.” Remus tightens his arms, just a little, holding them together.

Sirius smiles so wide his nose scrunches a little and he swipes his thumbs over Remus’ hips, “Hope you always bring me with you.”

“More like you bring me with you.” Remus laughs, but it settles a little heavily somewhere in his chest. He hasn’t forgotten how much Sirius has to travel for his work, how sometimes they might not see each other for days or weeks while he’s away on a project. How this vacation is not forever, this little bubble of pure them.

Sirius makes a sad noise. “Sad eyes, what happen?”

“Just—you know.” Remus smiles, and presses a kiss to the tip of Sirius’ nose, “You travel a lot.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, like this problem shouldn’t even exist, “Always bring you with me, Remus.” Then he ducks his head a little when Remus looks away, trying to recapture his gaze, “Only if you want, of course. You can come to fun places, like Japan.” He sinks down into the water so their floating a little, up to their necks, and captures Remus’ mouth when he gasps a little at the temperature change, “What Remus want?” He smiles and his tongue peaks out to wet his lower lip, “Other than me, of course.”

Remus laughs softly. “I…” He swallows and reaches up to push a strand of hair away from where it was sticking close to Sirius’ eye. He smooths it down again and then leaves his hand there, brushing Sirius’ cheek, “I never got to go to university. I—I know I’m a little old, I mean, 22 is usually when people are finishing, but…”

“Remus. Remushya.”

And Remus has to look up just to put a face to the sheer happiness that is in Sirius’ voice. It’s an expression Remus doesn’t think he’ll be quick to forget, but he can’t imagine why Sirius looks like that just because he said he wants to go to school.

“I’m—“ Sirius squeezes Remus closer, “Yes, so good. You love. You find nice school in New York, we live together, you focus on studies. I—you let me…you let me take care? Please.” Sirius has dropped his voice. He whispers the words against the corner of Remus’ mouth, “I’m want so much for you. Remus, I’m want give you…everything. Let me? Is okay?”

Remus feels his lip shake a little before he even realizes that he sort of wants to cry. He really is keeping a pattern here. But he’s wanted this for so long, school, and to have it just plain offered to him like that… Sirius shushes him softly and leans forward to try and kiss the quiver away.

“But—“ Remus’ voice cracks, “But what will I—could I—ever give you back? I literally have nothing.”

“Remus.” Sirius makes a sort of tisking noise and is suddenly wading them forward back towards shore, Remus still in his arms. “You listening or be stubborn?”

“I’m not—what—“

Sirius wades through the water until he can kneel on the sand and lays Remus gently back against the shallowly lapping waves. They’re only just on shore and Remus laughs a little as Sirius settles himself between his thighs.

“Listening, Remus?” Sirius holds himself up by his forearms, blocking the sun from overhead until he is all Remus can see.

The sea rushes up around their bodies, cool next to the heat of Sirius’ bare thighs and chest pressed to Remus’ skin. Remus feels safe, here between Sirius and the sand.

“I’m listening.” He says.

“Okay.” Sirius curls his wrists inward so he can run his hands through Remus’ hair and push it off his forehead. “Give…” Sirius presses his lips together for a moment, eyes flicking between Remus’ as he tries to string the right words together in his head, “You give me everything already. Everything. Remus, I’m…” Sirius shakes his head and stray droplets of water fall onto Remus’ chest and cheeks, “I’m so lonely before, you no idea.” Sirius laughs a little and pets his hand through Remus’ hair again, eyes following the motion like he can’t believe he gets to do it, “I don’t even know how lonely, you know? Then you come to me, and I see. You stand at door first time I see you and ask me about home and I think…I don’t know, you sleep in my arms and I…I can feel when you not there now.”

“Sirius.” Remus starts but Sirius presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Is big, cold place that…that is waiting for you to make warm.” He sends Remus a soft smile, “And now you are here.” He says the words slowly, with careful grammar. Sirius shrugs one shoulder, “Everything.”

Remus can only look up at him for a moment, then he shakes his head, “Sometimes, with the things you say to me in English, I think I’d die if I could understand what you’d be able to say in Russian.”

Sirius grins, pressing his nose beneath Remus’ jaw, “Learn Russian, find out.” Then he leans back with a mockingly serious look on his face, “No, I’m take back. Dick hard all time if you speak Russian.”

Remus laughs loudly at that and pulls Sirius into a salty kiss.

They’re rinsing off the salt beneath the outdoor shower on their deck when Remus presses his hands to Sirius’ chest, “Hey, wait.”

“Hm?” Sirius blinks down at him, hair a mess from running his fingers through it and the water.

“I just—“ Remus smooths one hand up to his neck, “I have to make sure you know. I’d love you if you didn’t have a cent to your name. I’d love you without—without the money, without any of it. Okay? Do you know that?”

Sirius looks at him, hands freezing, and between one blink and the next his eyes are glassy with tears. Remus reaches up to cup Sirius’ cheeks in his hands, “I’d love you if this hotel didn’t exist, I’d love you if the apartment you were offering to let me come live with you in was a one room shack.” He pushes up on his toes and presses a hard kiss to Sirius’ mouth, tasting the sea. “I’d love you through anything. Okay?”

Sirius smiles, a tear escaping from his eyes and mixing with the soft stream of water. He sniffles and laughs, curling his hands around Remus’ wrists and rubbing lightly, “Okay.”

Remus laughs a little too, “Got it, Sirushya?”

Sirius laughs a little more, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head up into the spray for a moment, smile wide, and then arching down to kiss Remus. “I’m got it.”

(A/N: yyaaayyy fluffy beach fluffily-fluff-floo. woo!)

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alltingfinns · 5 years ago

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A Scandal in Belgravia

So I’m back on this.

The swoosh on some sped up footage in the previously, don’t remember noticing that.

This episode’s start gets so much funnier if you read some of the fic written between this and the previous episode.

Silly song now becomes more dramatic in TRF.

What did Irene offer Jim to get him so riled up? If it’s the plot plane plan that would explain why Sherlock is needed alive. But his emotional reaction... maybe he’s already been trying to get it on his own. Indicates possibly that Jim has been looking for a way to get to Mycroft.

“You’re typing a lot.”

This montage is nicely done.

Arguing about the blog.

The pouncing on the title.

He’s so hurt. He knows ash!

“We do watch the news.”

“You said boring and switched the channel.”

First time where “people” = John.

And the hat.

“It’s time.” I never thought about the waiting period.

Ehh, Hudson called up to the next floor so John’s room? Boys?

Ha cool, a SAAB. An old one too. I’d guess a 900 model from the early nineties.

Lestrade probably makes these calls a lot.

I get Sherlock’s confusion, he’s just in a sheet it’d make sense for him to be humiliated.

Their silent conversation + John’s acceptance of the absurdity.

That was a pretty long look on Sherlock’s lap and then asking about pants.

The Swedish subtitles on Netflix just referred to John as ”kronans gosse” I love it!

John took the queen liking his blog as a point in their argument.

I always like looking at John during the sheet bit.

Mycroft and John conversing in subtext that you need to remember their original conversation from a whole series/three episodes ago. And people think johnlock is too subtextual.

They made “the woman” a work title clearly to explain why Sherlock would refer to her that way. A bit harder to work in the context from ACD canon. It would be weird if Sherlock in modern times went “a credit to your gender” for defeating him.

Sherlock’s reaction Mycroft’s veiled assertion settles the question, I think. He’s making a “damn, he’s got me there” face. Mainly because John’s presence, if we considers his previous statement. If it were just him and Mycroft he’d just say “just because I haven’t done it doesn’t mean I can’t understand it!”

Btw, in case you think my typing speed is phenomenal I am hitting pause when something gets really interesting to me.

The parallel of checking the pictures have the “obvious” reading of romantic set up. But Sherlock is still learning details of a case he has been given so another reading is that while he’s targeting her she’s targeting him.

My reading is backed up by Sherlock’s immediate demeanor. His interest in her didn’t really appear until he found out she didn’t ask for anything. Blackmailers are a dime a dozen, but someone making a point of threat against the reputation of the BRF without asking for direct compensation? That’s someone with a plan and someone who can give him the kick he feeds of from casework.

John getting the last word in only for Sherlock to get the laterer word in.

Pinching an ashtray from the aforementioned BRF, whom himself mentioned as his first client with a navy, just to make John laugh? Some things are priceless but for everything else there’s MasterCard.

Okay, I had to back up a bit but: I don’t know who’s getting these pictures for Irene, but the last one that makes her smile is focused on John. She sees Sherlock more naked in the pictures where he’s fully clothed in the back of a cab than when he was in just a sheet on the pavement.

More parallels. This is really about their similarities. Could still be considered romantic foreshadowing “they’re made of the same cloth” type.

Ah yes, punch me.

That little dialogue snippet about “punch me” usually being subtext is what got me to first watch this show.

In general I have a lot of issues with how they handled Irene. But I especially don’t think I get the nudity in this scene. It reveals to Sherlock immediately that his ruse was all in vain since she either a) knew he was coming anyway or b) usually greet priests in distress while stark naked and might therefor just be stark raving.

Unflappable John Watson. Oh dear, my flat mate who I just beat up is sitting in front of a naked dominatrix with his vicar collar between her teeth. “I’ve missed something, haven’t I?”

He doesn’t like being a third wheel either. “I had tea too! Just so you know. In case you thought Sherlock got tea at the palace by himself. I was there too. The tea was lovely. Just the right temperature.”

Dammit.

Now I want tea.

Wait wait wait! When did John put his “date” shoes on? Only time it makes sense is when Sherlock was looking through his disguises. (He definitively wouldn’t wear them to traipse around the muddy crime scene.) Maybe they’re part of his “battle uniform”? Also obviously Sherlock can only “deduce” date because he knows what shoes John wears on dates. This isn’t really clothed people are easier to deduce.

How is he not deducing the heck out of her make up and ear piercing? Is it because she’s acting so extraordinary that her indicators become harder to contextualise?

Or is that whole thing just a plot hole?

And her comes her actual opening chess move. Nudity and banter was just setting up the pieces.

“Somebody loves you.” She pressed John’s big red “DO NOT PRESS” button right away. Later she says Jim told her how to play the Holmes brothers, but he definitively gave some pointers on John as well.

There’s something about John’s facial movements when Irene says he knows exactly where to look. Hard to compare with the sheet scene because of the different angles. But yeah, John is bi.

“You do borrow my laptop” with such an angry glare.

Wait are Irene’s shoes those shoes that are expensive because they’re red on the bottom? (I do not care enough to google their names.)

And it’s when John starts to smile that Sherlock does his verbal keysmash. Officially Ben said it was because Irene was paying attention to John instead of him, but she does that a number of times previously and has had quite a moment of getting cosy at John. But up until then John has been a bit standoffish. Of course you can only take so much of a pretty lady flirting with you before your smile reflex gets activated. Also he whips his head immediately at Sherlock in medical concern for his friend and Sherlock can speak clearly again.

Sherlock thinks he knows her game now as he makes his move getting her to confirm that the pictures are in the room.

Imagine the egg on his face if John hadn’t managed the smoke alarm in time.

“Amazing how fire exposes our priorities” should be part of a collection of lines that are only said once but thematically repeated throughout the show.

Some would argue maybe “I really hope you don’t have a baby in there” could be added but I don’t think it could be considered as repeated enough thematically.

Sherlock being his usual demanding self about turning off the fire alarm. The fool! Doesn’t he know how hard fire alarms are to turn off? (Maybe just a problem for me...)

Okay sure, easy enough with a gun, but impractical as a long term solution.

Umm, excuse me why does he go “no disrespect but you were clearly born in the 80s” in an episode from 2012? The most she’d be is 32, so clearly she looks at most like that then. Why would she be insulted by that? Also he earlier called a dude unhealthy, stupid and with bad breath in front of him without clarifying level of respect. So basically he’s needling her by adding that. That’s the most positive spin it can get.

John apologising for not stopping /forewarning about a whole bunch of trained killers sweeping in? That is diehard loyalty.

She’s staring hard at him as fire exposes his priority.

She actually does give him a clue by looking down the moment he looks at her. Never thought of that.

He heard something click wrong, looked at her for additional clue so she looks to the side “get out of the way”.

I love that John’s priority is medically inclined in the action scene, checking the vital signs of the guy that got shot.

“Observant?” “Flattered?” Honestly he shouldn’t be so surprised by the first bit as it was obvious some kind of observation + deduction got Sherlock the code.

As usual Sherlock gives zero fucks about gun safety. I feel John at some point is going to tie him down and lecture him about it. “We do not scratch our heads with the barrel of a gun, and we don’t call for the police by shooting in the air!”

You know if you’re knocking him out cold regardless, you don’t need him to drop the phone first. You just wanted the beating to be literal.

“He’ll be fine. I’ve used it on loads of my friends.” Yeah no, tell the doctor what chemical knockout drug you just put in a former drug addict!!

I wonder how much of dream Adler is actual Adler speaking to a drugged out Sherlock.

Could be nothing with the only real part being “hush now, returning your coat”. Would make sense for a dreaming brain to jumble the two cases together.

Start of series 2 we get to see Sherlock’s bedroom while John’s remain a mystery after 4 series.

John is not on the top of his game this episode. “What woman?”

And so it begins.

Mycroft does not have “shut up Hudson” privilege.

That whole phone noise discussion is punctuated with embarrassment.

Ah the gaping jaw that set the sails for the lestrolly ship.

“Christmas is canceled!” I love when John banters with Sherlock.

Sherlock is mean to Molly, but to be fair she kind of blundered a bit with the others and Sherlock complaining about John being away was clearly something he told in confidence. Telling Greg and John that their loved ones are betraying the trust put in them is general misanthropy, but Sherlock probably feels justified in needling Molly about a crush that he figures none of them know anyway.

Oh John’s look there. Greg clearly knows too what is coming but John has the recognition factor.

“Oh shit. It was me. Still me? She still has a thing for me?”

For a sort of dramatic moment it still has one of John’s absolutely funniest facial journeys. “Wait, you apologised? You know what an apology is? Are you feeling well?”

Obviously Irene’s text signal gets a lot of funny moments, but nothing will beat the timing of this one. And now I am imagining Jim with a pair of binoculars sitting across the street and telling Irene “now, send it now, it’ll be fucking priceless!”

And Greg “wait really?” When you’re not sure what your consultant can do to surprise you next.

I believe I made a post about it earlier but Jeanette’s boyfriend just said he’s been keeping track up till 57 on text messages that his platonic flat mate gets where the signal is a woman moaning.

“Do you ever reply?”

Jeanette starts working on her break up speech about then, I believe.

Molly nervously gulps a drink. Now Molly is everyone’s favorite John mirror. Medical professional with a crush on Sherlock, and whose favored type of outfit involves knitwear. John usually takes a drink at emotionally difficult times. Is this Molly handling her rejection, or showing what John is doing/will do without showing John?

Mycroft. If they passed a new law why would Sherlock know about it before you?

“How did Sherlock recognize her from... not-her-face?”

Mycroft answers with a smile and leaving the room.

“I got plans”

“No” I know you. If it’s a date you’ve probably bungled it already. Regardless if it is or isn’t you’ll still prioritize my brother because you always do.

John really goes for the superconfident strategy when dating, huh? “I always thought I was great.”

“I’ll even walk your dog!”

“I don’t have a dog!”

“No, because that was the last one...”

Always thought you were a great boyfriend, huh?

When even your landlady who got out of her marriage through execution thinks you bungled it, you probably bungled it.

Think I’ll break here and continue the rest of the episode tomorrow.

#rebecka’s sherlock rewatch #johnlock #john watson is bi #john watson is a disaster #jealous john watson

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alecthemovieguy · 5 years ago

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Being Nicole

‘Supergirl’ star Nicole Maines’ passion for transgender rights makes her super in real life, too

Transgender activist and actor Nicole Maines knew she was a girl around the age of 3 or 4.

“My case is kind of unique because I have a twin brother (Jonas),” she told Ellen Degeneres during an appearance on “Ellen” in 2018. “So, growing up with him, he was identifying with all these male things and feeling very comfortable in his body, and I wasn’t.”

Maines, the subject of the Mount Washington Valley’s One Book One Valley community read “Becoming Nicole,” slowing began publicly transitioning in the first grade, and officially presented herself as female in the fifth grade, when she changed her name from Wyatt to Nicole.

Maines, who is turning 22 on Oct. 7, became the center of the precedent-setting Maine Supreme Judicial Court case Doe v. Regional School Unit 26 regarding gender identity and bathroom use in schools. Maines had been barred from using the female bathroom after a complaint, but the court ruled that denying a transgender student access to the bathroom consistent with their gender identity is unlawful.

In 2018, Maines debuted as Nia Nal/Dreamer, television’s first transgender superhero, on “Supergirl.” She is returning as a series regular for season five which premieres Sunday, Oct. 6, at 9 p.m. on The CW.

One Book One Valley has a series of events throughout October culminating in an evening with “Becoming Nicole” author Amy Ellis Nutt on Thursday, Oct. 24, at 7 p.m. at Loynd Auditorium at Kennett High School in North Conway, N.H. In addition to Nutt, the plan is to have the Maines family be part of the discussion through a Skype connection.

I recently talked with Maines about growing up transgender, activism, privilege and the upcoming season of “Supergirl.”

“Becoming Nicole” is beautifully written, but it is very journalistic and academic in its approach. Is there anything you would’ve done differently or included in telling that story?

I don’t know. I think, of course, Amy did a phenomenal job, and I am so happy with how the book came out because I think it really does have something for everyone, whether or not you’re just starting to learn about transitioning and you’re looking for something new. But there was so much that had to be cut out in the final editing process and, unfortunately, a lot of what did get cut out was original writing from Jonas’ perspective. I don’t know if it was something I would’ve done differently, I think it is more of a shame that it couldn’t make it into the final cut. It was just so long before it was cut. So, I do hope at some point people do get to see that because it is really, really beautiful.

In “Becoming Nicole,” a therapist told your parents that you weren’t transgender because you were peeing standing up. What are some other examples you’ve encountered of misinformation about what transgender is?

Where do I even begin? So many people think that it is one of those things that you can kind of slap a label on and say, “This is what this is,” and with something as expansive as gender it is really impossible to paint it as very black and white. So many people have tried to say “Oh, all trans people look like this. This is how you spot a trans person.” And that’s 1) offensive, and 2) not true or realistic.

I think a lot of that has to do with how historically we are represented in the media: men in dresses and this and that. It is so much more expansive than that. No one group of people looks a certain way, and it is dangerous to try to categorize people like that. So, I think besides the peeing standing up, which is ridiculous, what is equally ridiculous is the idea that some people think that they can spot a trans person, and that’s sort of the whole basis of their argument.

You know how sometimes you read certain blogs or you read certain Twitter accounts just to make yourself mad? I stumbled across one, it was a really popular TERF account — which stands for trans-exclusionary radical feminists, which is pretty much feminists who believe trans women aren’t women, and they use recycled rhetoric from the ’70s saying that trans women are just men trying to invade women’s spaces and stupid shit like that. It was this person going on and on about, like, “Oh, none of you pass. None of you look like women. Yada yada yada.” And I was like, 1) no room to talk because her haircut was atrocious, and 2) come say it to my face. It really made me mad. It is atrocious that people think they can spot something like that. It is ridiculous.

It is kind of like the back-handed compliment that I receive a lot, that is “Oh, you don’t look trans,” or “Oh, never really would’ve guessed.” A lot of the time, I try not to jump on people for that because I know it is coming from a place where they’re trying to give me a compliment, but what does trans look like? What did you think I was going to look like?

And, of course, everyone thinks that we are supposed to look like men in dresses, which — even if we did — is rude as hell to say something like that because, not only is that stupid, but it is also reinforcing negative beauty standards among women, not just trans women, but women. Because you hear about the bathroom bills and they are like, “Oh, we are going to enforce no trans people in bathrooms.” Well, how are you going to enforce that? And then you get cases of cis women getting kicked out of the bathrooms because they look more masculine than others. Even for cisgender women that is not a black and white line. People look different, and it is totally unfair and unreasonable to say just because someone has harder features than somebody else that this is what is going on in your pants. That feels like a wild, crazy assumption to me.

So, obviously your father always loved you, but he struggled with your identity. Was there a specific moment when you finally felt truly seen by him?

I know a lot of moments where he really started having light bulb moments. I think for me, one of the first moments where I felt like I started being seen was when I started wearing girl’s clothes to school. My transition started going there slowly, but between second and third grade I had gone from wearing longer hair to wearing girl’s clothes all the time. I don’t know if it was even just my father, but by everyone, but that is when I started feeling like I was being seen. Then in fifth grade was when I had fully transitioned. I was allowed to pierce my ears and I was allowed to wear skirts and dresses. That really felt like I am seen. And then, of course, when my father finally started fighting for me. Because I knew, at that point, he still didn’t fully understand, but when he started defending me and defending my transition and my using the girl’s bathroom, I felt like I had him on my side.

I love last season of “Supergirl.” One of my favorite moments was when Nia Nal/Dreamer publicly announced herself as both an alien and a transgender woman because it put a positive face on a group who were being demonized in the show. How important do you think it is to give a face to marginalized people?

It is incredibly important. The best way to fight against marginalization and the most effective way that we fight back against people who are trying to erase us is with visibility. When you have an administration who, for incidents in a crazy hypothetical, removed me from the 2020 census, then the best way to combat that is to be more visible than ever. By saying, OK, you’re trying to make people think that we are not valid, you’re trying to make people think we don’t exist and that we are not solid and valid in our identities and our existence. Well, then we are going to show you that we are. We are going to show you: no, you cannot ignore us because we are here and it doesn’t really matter what you believe. It doesn’t really matter if you say, “Well, I don’t really believe in transgender.” Well, it isn’t really something for you to believe in because whether you like it or not, we are here. We exist and that’s not a matter of opinion. You do not get to choose whether or not my identity is valid because I am not doing it for you and we are not going to let you erase that. So, I think visibility is the number one method of defense against erasure.

Based on the trailer, the new season of “Supergirl” partially deals with the betrayal and anger Lena Luthor feels toward Carol Danvers hiding her identity of Supergirl from her. This seems like an apt metaphor for the similar sense of betrayal, hurt and confusion some people feel when a loved one comes out as trans or gay. Do you think that is intentional?

I don’t know if it was intentional. I think because there are so many different layers with Carol and Lena’s relationship, and especially with the Kryptonian-Luthor relationship. I think it is hard to boil it down to just that, because I get why Lena is upset and I get why those feelings are floating around, but personally, I’m kind of like nobody owes any facet of their identity to anybody but themselves. If they did not feel that they wanted to share a part of their identity with you, you don’t get to be mad about that. That is something that belongs entirely to them and if they did not choose, for whatever reason to disclose that part of themselves, that’s not because you necessarily did anything wrong, that’s because they had a choice and that’s not necessarily on them either. But, like I said, it is different between being trans and being a superhero. It is hard because, at the same time, it is like, “Oh, you were treating me like Lex, and I’m not Lex. You can trust me.” So, there’s a whole bunch of other stuff floating around, but I don’t know if it was a 100 percent intentional, but there are definitely connections.

That’s the great thing about sci-fi is that it can always be used as a metaphor for exploring social issues.

Absolutely.

How will Nia Nal be challenged in the new season?

The theme of this season is communication, and so something Nia is struggling with the first chunk of the season is communicating with how she feels with Brainiac because they’ve been dating and they have been having communication issues. Neither of them are the best at relationships, and so this is kind of a new area for her and she’s trying to work out, “How do I express how I feel without hurting you?” And that’s something she struggles with a lot. It is being open and honest with how she’s feeling and trying not to bottle up what she is feeling for the sake of other people.

What I also really love about Nia Nal is when she puts herself out there — kind of going off the whole thing of passing — she does pass as both a human and a woman, and so she doesn’t need to put herself out there, but by doing so she empowers others. Do you also try to lead by example in your own life?

Absolutely, I recognize 100 percent as Nia and as Nicole that I have an insane amount of privilege. I’m white and, like you said, I pass and I’m on TV. And I mention that I am on TV because when we look at issues like HB2 and we look at bathroom bills and stuff like that, that is not necessarily going to affect me as someone who passes and as someone who is in Vancouver. I’m working in Vancouver, HB2 will not affect me. I am not there. But I recognize that there are issues that are affecting members of my community who don’t have the same significant platform that I do. And so it is my responsibility as a member of that community, as someone with that platform, to lift them up and to start to shine a light on issues that are affecting members of my community, even if I personally will not feel the impact of that harmful legislation.

It is important and that’s what we talk about in feminist circles. We are always talking about how can people with privilege use that privilege to lift others up, to better the situation of others who don’t have those some privileges. We ask that of men, we ask that of white people, we ask that of abled-body people, of trans women who pass. We ask that people use their privilege responsibly. And so that is what I try to do and I hope that I am succeeding. I just try to use my platform and use my voice to talk about issues that I feel matter.

Going back to “Becoming Nicole,” the book discusses “The Little Mermaid” as a metaphor for being transgender because Ariel doesn’t feel she belongs in the ocean and everyone tells her you have to be with your own people blah, blah, blah. Ariel was one of your favorite characters growing up, do you feel even at a young age you were drawn to this character because your struggle paralleled her struggle?

I guess subconsciously, yes, but on a surface level, I liked mermaids. I don’t know why I liked it so much and that’s why I say subconsciously I was drawn to it. I remember loving that more than anything else. I loved everything about her. I remember I was like, “That is what I want for myself.” I was like, “She is so beautiful, and she is so graceful,” which is not a trait that I’ve been able to replicate in my own life. I remember being so drawn to her, and I was like “Mom, Dad, that is what we are going for. That is the look.” Between her and, I’ve said it before, Storm from the X-Men. I remember watching “X-Men: The Animated Series” as as kid and she had that hair and the cape and was like “Oh, that’s drama. I love it.”

And now you have your own cape.

Well, metaphorically speaking. I don’t have a superhero cape. I feel a little cheated.

Well, maybe you can get one.

No, I have the best supersuit. It is shiny and holographic. It is awesome.

One part I really liked in “Becoming Nicole,” I think it was before you were going to enter fifth grade, you were asked what kind of story you’d tell and you said it would be this mystery/comedy/fantasy with a sassy character and a sidekick who was even sassier. If you were to write that story now what do you think it would look like?

Oh my God. Well, it would definitely have the sassy character and the sassier sidekick, because I remember growing up I was always the biggest fan of the sassy comic relief characters, which is why I tried to play that role in my own regular life, which took some getting used to. I remember in middle school people didn’t exactly get the whole me trying-to-be-funny and I think it just came across as annoying. If I was going to write that story now, I think it would absolutely be about murder that would be the mystery. The comedy that would manifest itself in probably macabre, offbeat humor about murder. And then the fantasy ... they are all vampires. I’m just describing “Bit.”

I haven’t been able to find anyway to watch “Bit” (which stars Maines as a transgender teen who falls in with four queer feminist vampires, who try to rid Los Angeles' streets of predatory men), but I am very interested in that film. What was it like making that?

It was so amazing and I hope you’ll be able to watch soon. Right now, it is making its festival rounds, and hoping someone will choose to distribute it, and we’re like, “Pay us, please!” It was so incredible. Everyone on set was amazing and our writer/director Brad Michael Elmore is the coolest dude on the planet. I was talking about using our privilege to tell stories that matter and to raise up minority voices, and that’s absolutely what he did in this situation. I know a lot of the festivals we have gone to have been feminist festivals and gay festivals, and we’ve had a significant amount of people kind of be like, “Oh, you were written by a straight cis white guy,” and we’re like,“Yeah, and he’s doing exactly what we want him to be doing, which is using his privilege to create this super awesome movie featuring queer and interracial talent, this intersectional group of feminists.” We had a female DP which how awesome is that? We had this super awesome kaleidoscope of different identities in this film and I feel like some folks are very quick to write it off because it was written by a straight cis white guy. 1) I don’t feel that is fair to Brad, and 2) I don’t think that is fair to the movie. The movie is so cool and the movie deals with such cool issues and it approaches them all in such a fucking awesome way. To write it off because of who our director is feels very shortsighted.

And obviously you wouldn’t say or do anything that felt disingenuous to your own experience.

Yes, absolutely. I was like, “Ye of little faith.”

When you were 13 years old you went to the Maine statehouse and spoke to dozens of representatives to convince them to vote against a bill that would make it legal to discriminate against trans people. Do you have any interest in getting into politics either working for a campaign or as a candidate yourself?

I think I would be willing to support someone else’s campaign. Politics are not for me. I do not have the stomach for that. I do not have the patience for that. I know where my lane is and it is absolutely not going for an elected position. I am more the person who shows up when the politicians are not doing what they are supposed to be doing. That’s when I get involved.

The big thing I took away from “Becoming Nicole” was that prejudice and hate is something that is taught, because the boy who started harassing you the most was told by his grandfather that you were wrong and that he should go after you. And so I guess the question is, what do you do to undo these wrongheaded lessons that are passed down by parents or grandparents?

I think the first step comes from within. You cannot make anybody do anything. You cannot make somebody unlearn hate and prejudice. That journey has to start with themselves. With my father — and, of course, he was never outwardly hateful or anything, I always knew he loved me — but his journey to acceptance started with him deciding to pick up Jennifer Finney Boylan’s book (about being a transgender woman) and read it. He had to ask himself what he was so afraid of if his son was his daughter. He had to ask himself what about that terrified him so much. And that’s what every person has to do.

Every person has to be aware of their own prejudices and their own biases. We all have them. We have to be aware of them. We have to actively work to undo them because it is something we are taught, not even just by our parents or caretakers, but through television and society. We are pumped full of biases and prejudices that we are not even aware of, and so we have to pay extra care and extra caution to do undo those. And when we catch ourselves, we have to recognize, “No, that’s not right” and go from there.

It has to be a conscious choice, and so that is hard. It is a hard thing to do. It is a really gross feeling to try to unlearn stuff like that, and so a lot of people won’t do that because a lot of people are more comfortable being like, “No, I don’t get it, that’s gross, I don’t like it and I’m going to hate it.” That is much easier and much more comfortable then asking yourself what you are afraid of. As socially responsible participants in the community, we have a responsibility to ask that question anyway. All of us have to ask that question and not just about trans issues, because if we don’t do that, if we are looking for what is easy and what is comfortable at the expense of other people, then stay inside.

And I feel like the biggest thing is if you’re afraid of a gay person or trans person or black, Hispanic, whatever social issue, if you actually talk to these people that you are afraid of, that you’d see that they are just human beings.

That is the number one thing. It is so much easier to marginalize a group of people when you are not putting names to faces, when we are not putting faces to groups, when you are dehumanizing them. It is so much easier to sweep their plights under the rug and be like, “Oh, they don’t matter,” because you are not talking to them, you’re not seeing them as people. That’s why I always say, “Come say it to my face.” It is so much harder to be an asshole to someone’s face because you have to look them in the eye and tell them their rights don’t matter.

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supersoldiersruined-me · 5 years ago

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Caelus

A/N: This is my entry (super late yet again) for @ruckystarnes Summer of AUs challenge! And for a lack of inspiration, the titlte is space in latin! loll I had an inital idea when I signed up but this honestly took me so long to grasp and then it just poured out! So here it is, thank you for being so patient love! 💖 Beta: babyboo @eyesfixedonthesun22 Warnings: language, smut, gay sex, mention of blood Word count: 5714 Prompt: Space AU, Stucky

Main Masterlist | Challenges Masterlist

“Steve, you jackass! Come back!” There’s no point in yelling twice. Bucky knows. But his best friend is storming towards the recruiting line-up with a mighty will. When they had denied him to join the army, Steve jumped on every last occasion to prove himself.

Not two weeks ago, Stark Industries announced a new advanced project that would allow a select group of candidates to participate in a space camp tryout. They’d be secluded into experimental ships, given some basic training and then experts would monitor their behavior, their reactions to simulated situations. If they made it out alive - and sane - a month later, they’d be taken to Stark’s secret facility and given proper training and instructions. Every boy in New York reached out like little kids given the gift of their lives.

So Bucky is standing there in the busy streets of Brooklyn, arms up in disbelief. The sick boy was going to go against the odds once more. He was a foot shorter than the men around him. Arms frail, and thrown into an asthma attack once he reached the building. Security threatened to keep him out - much to his safety - but Steven Grant Rogers does not back down because of some disability.

“I swear to God,” Bucky mumbles under his breath as he begins to make his way towards the atroupment of testosterone.

“There’s no reason for me to be doing less than these men!” Comes as a shout out of Steve’s mouth. He’s red and Bucky isn’t sure if it’s the rage or yet another one of his problems surfacing.

“Come on, buddy. Let’s go home,” he tries to reason with him.

“No Buck! Don’t you get it?” Steve turns back to the guard. “I’ll fucking die anyway! Might as well it be doing something important…” His face winces at the thought; he’d never mentioned his illness as something so weighing, so dark.

“Steve…” He brings his hand to his best pal’s shoulder as he tries to comfort him. “Your value isn’t measured with what you can do for the world. You take care of me and that’s plenty.” Steve sighs and accepts defeat.

“Fine,” he looks into Bucky’s eyes, tears of anger filling his own, “I guess we can go.”

They turn towards the street and start walking home. As he looks over his shoulder at the line of people still hoping to get a shot, he sees a strange man scribbling down a notepad, looking at the two of them leave with a smile. Round glasses frame his face, he hasn’t shaved in a week. From his outfit and his demeanor Bucky knows he’s German. He shrugs it off and turns his attention back to his friend, throwing his arm around his neck.

It’s a week later when a knock at the door startles the boys out of their sleep. It must be around three in the morning, as far as Steve can tell. He turns on the lamp on his nightstand and looks over at Bucky in annoyance.

“Jerks,” he whispers as he recalls the nights of torment the kids from the neighbourhood had him endure - it was the reason Bucky had moved in with him.

“Let me take care of it,” the dark haired man replies.

“Bucky, stop. I can take care of myself.”

“See, the thing is, you don’t have to.” He shakes his shoulder before walking over to the door. There’s a paper taped to it, bright and clear texts surround a pointy, metal ship image. There’s the Stark logo on it, and it makes him shiver in excitement.

“Steve…” He trails. “Get your ass over here.”

He hands him the poster and gives him a minute to read. It begins to tremble in his hands when he reaches the last sentence: “We are glad to announce that you have been selected to participate in an experimental camp supervised by the Stark Industries.”

There’s a place and time for them to be the next day, and they spend the rest of the night getting their luggage ready, along with making up stories and tripping out over the opportunity.

The rustic walls of brick have transformed into sterile steel. The floors are made of a plastic-like material - something easy to clean, Steve notices. It would be impossible to reach the ceiling and he’s wondering how they even managed to build this facility anyway. It’s highly distinct from the level of ingenuity of the current construction standards. The white building stands out absurdly in its secluded forest location.

Robots roam around, tacking and bolting steel plates to one another. Prototypes of deadly weapons are hung on the walls as they walk behind a seductive lady to what they presume is the reception. Their stuff, along with themselves, go through metal detectors - something they had only heard of until now - before making their way to a large office.

“Good evening, boy.” There’s a thick accent to the greeting, one that both can easily distinguish. “I hope we haven’t given you too much trouble.”

“Not at all, um...” Bucky begins, words failing him as he’s still processing the amount of discoveries they are about to do. He sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping.

“I’m Dr. Erskine. Responsible of the Biological Enhancement department here at Stark Industries. This here is Lady Carter, she’ll be assisting you on your journey.” The voluptuous woman nods their way and it has them both swallowing hard. She has a confidence they had never witnessed, and it has them nearly humiliating themselves.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve manages to say as he struggles to gain composure. He hopes she doesn’t notice him drying his palms on the back of his pants.

“Likewise,” she says. Her British accent runs a shiver up Bucky’s spine.

“Now, we wouldn’t want to keep you up too late. If you please follow Miss Carter to your assigned pod. We’ll go through the logistics in the morning.” The German man hands them a pair of overalls; nothing flattering, Bucky thinks.

It takes only three weeks for the boys to be fully independent, allowing them to be part of the first team to launch the program. Their uniforms along with their tools and weapons get a significant upgrade. They’re already anticipating the look of their new quarters.

“Can’t believe we’re doing this,” Steve mentions.

“Really? After twenty-something attempts I would highly believe that you’d be given a chance,” Bucky answers with a hint of sarcasm. They both laugh until a voice requests them to be at the main quarter in the next ten minutes.

The spaceship is a hundred feet tall or so, its body is quite narrow and it feels pretty sturdy. They gulp nonetheless, this would be for real and they couldn’t just drop out with a snap of their fingers. The team of eight wait by the cabin door, ably putting on their masks and equipment.

“This is it!” Bucky shouts.

“We’ve been working so hard for this. Maybe a few years after this we’ll be able to finally see what Earth looks like from up there.” Doug, who’d been the fittest one of them until he took Bucky under his wing and made him an even bigger beast, contemplates the unimaginable.

“Remember when just last year they presented the concept of flying cars and it failed. Seems like they were either lying to us or they made phenomenal progress since then…” Bucky remembers his astonishment after the Stark Expo; he was always a fan of progress and technology used for the good of the population. This journey would be an experiment of a life-time.

“Alright everyone settle in.” The German accent demands over the intercom. The small group walks into the ship and find their respective seats. With his wit and quick thinking, Steve was assigned board commander. Bucky was in charge of the combat tactics. It felt like, for once, their lives had meaning and it was an honour to be going through this together.

“‘Til the end of the line.” Steve captures his friend’s hand in his.

“‘Til the end of the line,” Bucky answers. They feel the ship ‘shake off the ground’, and the team howls in enthusiasm.

Once the orbiting procedures are done, they find their way into their seperate quarters, each sharing rooms in teams of three, except for Bucky and Steve who have the room to just the two of them. They walk to the door as they chit chat. Their smiles fade when the door slides before them and they notice the size of the room.

A large window gives out to a realistic CGI galaxy. The moon roams by slowly and it’s enough to have them holding their breaths, eyes watering at the beauty.

“Steve,” Bucky whispers. He turns to see his friend nodding at him, his lower lip bitten as he tries to hold in his emotions. “This wouldn’t have happened without your stubborn little head.”

“You deserve this as much as I do Buck.” They turn around and freeze at the sight of the one king sized bed that sits right in the middle of the room. Around it is a flowy drape they can pull closed - something to keep the sun out as it never sets, they think. At the corner of his eyes, Steve can see Bucky blush. His body shivers, his numerous dreams coming to his mind again.

“Is, um. Is that okay with you?” He asks.

“Yeah. Yeah it’s fine Stevie.” He walks over and sets his bag on a small bench. They begin to set their things in the abundant storage space. Neither of them talk for the next couple of minutes, too shy, perhaps. Too caught in their own fantasies to acknowledge their separate peaks at the one bed as they eyeball the distance that will be left between them.

“I’m exhausted. I’ll hit the showers and be right back.” Bucky is first to say, a foot already out the door.

Steve sheds his clothes, leaving only his briefs on. The sheets are the softest thing he’s ever touched. Everything is plushy and so welcoming. There’s Bucky’s sweatshirt on the left side pillow; he’s tempted to take it and wear it, knowing he’s always cold at night. But he only pulls it close and brings it to his face, feeling the material on his heating cheeks, inhaling the masculinity of his best friend. It’s inevitable he’s growing hard at the thought of being able to smell it directly from his neck. To have his head on his chest.

His free hand reaches under the band of his briefs, tentatively groping himself to try and relieve some tension. He loses himself in it though, and starts moving and twisting his hand faster. He’s staining his underwear but he doesn’t care. He knows Bucky’s hand would feel much better, much more unforgiving. There’s a pinch in his gut at the thought of teaching him all his sweet spots - or worse even, letting him discover them as he becomes a panting mess on this very bed.

“Shit,” he whimpers into the balled up sweater. His hips find a slow rhythm to go along his hand movements. His dick is out of its hiding spot by now; he’s big for his frame and he needs the extra room to pump harder. The door opens but he’s too lost to notice. There’s another muffled moan before he hears someone clear their throat.

“Steve, I-”

“Fuck! I’m sorry.” No no no! he thinks. “Buck I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine Rogers, just... Maybe finish in the bathroom?” He suggests with an uncomfortable smile. He’s scratching his scalp, looking anywhere around the room but the bed. When Steve doesn’t budge, he allows himself to look down. His friend had simply pulled the cover over his head, and he knows Steve is cursing himself for being careless.

“You can keep the hoodie, if you’re cold.” Steve nods no and doesn’t move. “Alright,” he adds before shuffling into his spot. He’s careful to stay along the edge of the bed, enough not to fall off but granting his friend personal space. He closes his eyes and tries to let his mind wander into sleep. It’s no use now that he’s seen his pal touching himself like that. Not that he’d never imagined it - he was much smaller in his mind though. He didn’t sound as heavenly either. Bucky had caught Steve jerking off already, their apartment being quite small for two people, but it was always discreet and he mostly had to spy on him to see anything.

The more he thinks about it, the more each scenario comes out clear. Steve had touched himself whenever they had been close, like when they got back home from the drive-in, or if Bucky walked around shirtless after a rather intense training. Steve had touched himself every time he felt bothered with Bucky’s presence, and fuck if that wasn’t something he’d dreamed about.

He inhales deeply before shifting to face Steve. His hand slowly lifts and comes to rest on his friend’s shoulder, which surprisingly relaxes under his touch rather than tense up.

“Bucky, it’s late. I’m sorry, okay?” It’s a half plead, half demand as the physical effects of his actions still haven’t dissipated. Bucky knows from the speed of his heart when his Stevie is nervous of agitated. Or in this case aroused.

“No. I’m sorry Steve.” Without turning completely, Steve gives him more of his attention. His silence is enough to note his questioning. “I should’ve realised before.”

“Wh-what do you mean, Buck?”

He answers with his body rather than try to explain his thoughts out loud; Bucky could be the clumsiest person when his mind got hazy. His hand moves to Steve’s chest, and in a swift pull he brings him closer. Close enough to kiss along his shoulder, then up his neck, until his nose tickles the base of his scalp.

“Buck,” Steve shivers.

“Let me. Please Stevie,” he says, his breath warm on the poor boy’s frigid body. When he doesn’t feel a protest, he lowers his hand onto his stomach, takes extra time just under his navel before he ventures under the waistband of his briefs. He’s perfectly hard under his touch, it takes a longer stroke than he anticipated before his thumb can reach the soaked tip. Steve hums deep in his throat. Bucky’s hip jerks forward in response. He’s already a mess and he’s only been touching him for a few seconds.

“Yes,” Steve whimpers. It earns him a soft bite to the shoulder; tender action meant to stifle a moan. “Bucky, don’t hold back.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear this,” he answers.

He’s got Steve on his stomach as soon as he’s done answering, a low grunt escapes his lips when he kneels over Steve’s legs, admiring the boy’s slender body. He snakes his hands over his shoulders, over his arms. He feels every inch of his skin as if he’d seen it for the first time. It feels new, strange even, to be able to give his pal what he’d always dreamed of; but it’s the best sentiment he’s ever experienced. From the soft moans he can pull from Steve, Bucky knows he’s enjoying this as well. Once the muscles under his touch have gone slack, he proceeds lower, kissing the trail he makes in the valley of his back. Steve jerks his hips up slightly when Bucky’s thumbs come to rest over his back dimples. He’s longing for what’s next; for the frightening act of intimacy.

“Bucky, you don’t-” He’s cut short in his suggestion by the inevitable. He moans Bucky’s name over and over every time his tongue flattens over his puckered hole. Bucky’s at work like a hungry man who’s just discovered the sweetest fruit. He licks and sucks and pokes intently at the flustered mess of man underneath him; and /he’s/ already done for. He’s rock hard in his own boxers at the way he can get Steve to squirm.

“Ja-james! Ah!” Steve’s got both hands fisting the sheet and his face flat into his pillow. He moves his hips along with the tactful intrusions. There’s a sticky mess already glueing his stomach to the mattress but he doesn’t care. If anything it allows for the lack of friction on his aching dick. “More. Please,” he pants.

He can hear Bucky spit but his rear is already too worn out from the previous actions to feel a thing. There’s a light poke, then a sting as Bucky’s slowly inching two fingers into him.

“So fucking tight, Stevie. God… You’re going to ruin my cock, aren’t ya?” His words send shivers up their bodies.

“All yours Buck,” Steve adds before choking on his words when he feels a third finger joining the others. “Always been yours.” With that said, Steve stretches back as best he can and brings a hand to the brunette’s hair. He plays with the curls, eyes fixed on the icy blues and his stomach tightens when Bucky leans into the touch. He moves his hand to his chin and pulls him up so their eyes are leveled.

“Will you let me take care of you now?” Bucky asks and regrets the way he phrased that.

“I can ta-”

“No, punk.” He sighs and closes his eyes. “It’s not about bullies anymore Stevie. I want you to feel wanted. Desired. It always pissed me off to see how the ladies treated you. They don’t know what they’re missing.” There’s a moment of silence while Steve turns around and sits straighter. His brows furrow but he doesn’t argue.

“Bucky, it’s fine. Those girls didn’t really have anything going for me, anyway.”

“So… Will you?” He’s still not looking at Steve. Afraid that maybe this was all he could allow himself to take. He ruined his chance, he thinks. But then Steve’s thumb comes to his chin and he’s forced to look up. The pretty blond is all smiles; the sweet pink on his cheeks warms Bucky’s heart. Steve dives in and crashes his lips to his friend’s. His boyfriend? Lover? He isn’t sure yet but that doesn’t matter for the night.

“Would that include letting me come before the morning?” There’s a gasp coming from Bucky as the question comes out, but he smiles and nods stupidly at Steve’s confidence. He pounces on him, their lips meeting again in a heated kiss.

“Only if it’s while I’m fucking that prefect little ass,” he taunts.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Steve answers.

The following nights are spent identically. Several years of hidden feelings are finally being rewarded and the boys know exactly how to make up for lost time. Most of their breaks are spent in their room, in the sauna or in the private lounge each team gets to share alternatively. Between trainings and meals, before, during and after showers. It’s an insatiable feeling to be wanted and taken care of, which never came easily to Steve until the very moment Bucky had his face between his hands and seemed to dwell into his eyes. Everything went on so quickly. Too quickly, perhaps, for Bucky soon found himself feeling guilty. Dirty. To be filling his needs with his favourite boy, while he knows he’s building a really fragile castle around them. To be imagining a life of happiness that had no place to be. Amongst the group, none seem to have caught up on their shenanigans. They were safe. Safe in the confines of this ship until the mission was over and they’d have to go back to being best buddies; friends since playground. It’s a thought that has Bucky’s stomach churning. He’d been glued to bed with a pounding headache for two days, and a raging boner he kept denying Steve. This has to stop, he thinks.

The curtains rush open, startling him out of sleep. Through the bright, manipulated daylight he sees Steve’s silhouette standing in front of their window.

“What’s up, Stevie?” His voice barely makes it out of him.

“I could ask you the same,” Steve accuses right away. He can hear Bucky fall back into his pillow and grunt.

“Care to explain…”

“You’re unbelievable.” He paces, his hands on his hips. “What’s so hard for you to accept? I thought you realised that we had been hiding these mutual feelings. I thought you were on my side, Buck. You haven’t touched me, haven’t even looked at me in the eyes for a week…”

The anguish in his voice has Bucky up on his feet in a second - he’s ready to lay down his point of view but Steve retorts faster.

“Look around! We’re in a fucking ship that’s meant to be in space, man.” His finger taps the glass behind him. “Everything around us is astonishing progress.”

“Yeah, simulated,” Bucky says.

“But progress nonetheless. Forget what people think. Gosh I wish this thing could take us to the future. Maybe things would have changed…” Bucky takes a step closer and he’s ready to fold. He wants Steve in his arms. Wants to keep his word and hold him tight. He reaches his arms out but quickly retracts when a sharp object flies over his upper arm.

“What the-”

There’s a rush of wind that sends a dozen more pieces their way. The back wall of their room is fractured, smoke coming in from the adjacent room, followed by a muffled scream. The strident screeching of metal makes it hard to focus. Alarms have gone off and an external team is running around, trying to find everyone.

It suddenly becomes hard to breathe but the medics have surged to rescue the guys who were stuck behind the flames. When Bucky turns around to grab onto Steve, he finds him lying on the ground, hands clenching his stomach and he swears that even through all the back-alley fights he’s never seen Steve’s face so contorted. A piece of steel bigger than his hand pokes out of a gash just under his left rib. Bucky knows not to pull it from him. He’d seen the consequences first hand on the field.

“Don’t move, don’t move.” He’s got a hand on his shoulder and the other beneath his head. There’s a glance around his body before he’s sure he can lift him up. Luckily, Steve’s about half the size of the guys Bucky had to carry in boot camp. He makes sure to keep the wound close to himself, and he heads towards the nearest door, the floor plan of the ship something he knows like the back of his hand.

“I got you Stevie,” Bucky says when he hears him weep.

Bucky’s fidgeting on the chair around the corner of two narrow hallways. His arm still burns from the alcohol-drenched bandage someone put on him while he was passed out. He turns to the one on his right. It’s bright from all the fluorescents and much too lifeless to his liking. The same nurse keeps shuffling through the different doors with a pad in hands. His head is about to explode from all the beeping of the life support machines and the aftermath of inhaling so much smoke. Someone at the end of the hall in front of him keeps coughing and Bucky’s throat is suddenly tingling. He’s a moment away from bolting up from his seat when Peggy walks out of the room.

“Barnes.” She has an apologetic look, but she offers a sweet smile. “He’d like to see you.”

There’s a blink before he can react, before blood goes back into his legs and he can head towards her. She reaches for his arm and guides him over, stopping just before the curtain around the bed.

“Now,” she begins. “We’ve had to um… They did someth-”

“He’s fine?” He practically screams.

“Yes. Yes James he is fine.” She takes a step back and stretches her arm to direct him forward. He takes a deep breath, flattens his shirt over himself as a habit and nervously pulls onto the edge of the curtain.

His heart skips a beat when he lays eyes on him. He recognizes the flowy blond hair; he wants to run his hand through it. But he’s taken aback when he gets closer. The under shirt they put on him is about to burst from the width of his shoulders. His jaw, man, his jaw is square and strong, just like the rest of him. He scans him up. Once. Twice. He thinks it’s the illusion of Steve being laid down, but he knows he’s gotten taller. Before he can wonder further a hand comes to his shoulder.

“Stark. What happened?” He asks, not taking his eyes off his friend.

“The infection spread like wildfire. His frail disposition made it impossible for him to surpass this. He needed a little...boost...if I can say so.”

“Well, a boost he got!” Bucky answers a tad enthusiastically. He sees Peggy smirk and his cheeks heat up. “Sorry,” he mouths.

“Yes. Well. We had this experimental serum going around for a while. A project run by Dr. Erskine. It was meant to help soldiers heal faster. Make their ability to bulk up easier. Let’s say we might have dosed up a little on him.”

“Is it permanent?”

“So far.” Peggy joins in.

“Did it... hurt?” There’s a new concern in Bucky’s voice. The same gut wrenching feeling he had whenever he found Steve beat up to the ground. He closes his eyes to keep the imminent tears from spilling out.

“Did it like a champ,” comes Steve’s voice next.

“Steve, listen,” Bucky begins as they walk into their apartment, bags of groceries in arms - the first one since they’ve been back from the mission. He’s walking behind him, still astounded by the two inches Steve has won. Their elbows bump as they walk around in the kitchen - they’ve yet to adjust to the two of them taking a lot of space; the conversation of them moving out into a new place was impending.

“Bucky, stop. I know you didn’t want to hurt me.” He means it, but Steve continues to set the things away without looking at him.

“I got caught off guard, Stevie. The lady asked the question but the tone in her voice made me uncomfortable. I should have s-”

“Yes. You should have said we were together. But it’s fine,” he adds. Bucky steps up and grabs one of the blonde’s hands. He brings it to his chest, over his heart, and his eyes begin to water when they get lost in his. There’s a synched deep breath before Bucky composes himself.

“I’m sorry.” Steve’s shoulders loosen at the small admission - he watches as Bucky kisses his fingers one by one before leaning into him. His lips come to his neck and Steve can’t help but shiver. The serum surely had enhanced everything.

“Why is it still so hard for you to acknowledge this,” Steve says as he rubs Bucky’s back. “Every time you say ‘friend’ my stomach flinches.”

“Strict family. It’s been coded into me when I was young. Every time I would hang out with you I’d get deathly stares at the dinner table.” Steve hugs him tighter. Bucky had never mentioned this before. Never said a word about being roughed around as a kid. He feels guilty. A feeling of remorse stikes through him as he recalls the numerous times he asked Bucky to pose for his sketches. Or when he needed a hand climbing somewhere and Bucky would hold onto him /just that way/. He didn’t know that his father was overlooking their every move from his office window. Didn’t know that his own mother was being lectured about their behavior.

“Plus, I still look at you and kind of freak out that I don’t have my little Stevie anymore. But you know… I’m really looking forward to what /this/ Steve can do.” He takes a step back to better look at him. His hands are on his hard chest, making their way onto his shoulders and he can feel Steve relax under his touch. One hand moves up to his nape before settling onto the side of his face; the other has made its way south, tracing every muscle on the way down.

“How about you knock some sense into me?” Bucky taunts, eyes dark and glimmery. It takes Steve out of his thought - pulls him out quite harshly in fact - but he lets the brunette palm him through the thick fabric of his chinos.

“But, Buck. We always-”

“I know. But I want to, baby. At least once…” There’s a soft whine along Bucky’s words and Steve melts into his embrace. Their lips stand close, waiting patiently for the right opportunity; though Bucky’s hand has made its way past Steve’s zipper by now. “For once, Stevie...please fuck me.”

It’s beastial. The way Steve picks his lover like he’s not heavier than a pillow. How he has him pinned to the wall by their room - they had finally started sleeping in the same bed, and eventually turned the spare room into a small art studio.

It takes a minute for Bucky’s hand to land onto the door handle, and another second for his mind to command it to turn it open. Steve’s grunt follows when it finally pries wide, allowing them to adventure further. Three steps later, Bucky finds himself thrown onto the stiff mattress, shirt gone missing while strong hands are already working at the button of his pants.

“Don’t break anything, Rogers.” He lifts himself onto his elbows to look down at the brusque man between his legs.

“The only thing I might be breaking is the bed,” he begins, his words muffled as he bites down on his tongue in concentration. He looks up at the headboard. Surely this was the first time they’d be intimate since ‘the change’. It most likely frightens Bucky more than it does Steve. A grin autographs his next words. “We need a new one anyway.” And with that he hooks his fingers into the waistband of both Bucky’s pants and underwear, and glides them off his thighs.

“Always so fucking hard for me,” Steve growls. “No wonder, you had /me/ on my back like that. I could get used to this view.”

“Don’t linger, Stevie.” Bucky’s words are low, but stern. His hips buck in agreement.

“Was I so whiny all the time?” They both chuckle before Bucky swats him on the chest.

“Only when I was balls deep in that fantastic ass,” he answers, both hands on the plump flesh he mentioned. The action causes Steve to grind into him - and he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t the plan all along. Bruises would appear on his shoulders the next day with how hard Steve’s biting down on them.

“I swear to God-" The enhanced man has his prey on his stomach in a flash, barely taking a breath of effort. He reaches forward to present two fingers to Bucky who gladly coats them in a generous amount of saliva. A hum rumbles into his chest when he feels them swipe over his hole, Steve taking his turn in exploring his man. The stretch is new, although Bucky had done this to himself in the past. The sweet tickling feeling of the intrusion is brain numbing. He's not sure he’s going to last. Surely Steve’s new physique could give more than he bargained for.

“Holy shit,” he cries when he feels the head of his dick press against him. They both moan when Steve inches into him with ease until his hips meet with Bucky’s ass and he stops, giving both of them a moment to adjust.

“Never thought it would be this good,” the blond grunts, eyes shut as he focuses on not painting the walls that so tightly envelop him. He pulls out just a tad, before pushing back in and establishing a smooth rhythm. Bucky contorts and mewls beneath him, his eyes go white as they roll to the back of his head.

“Like that, huh?” Steve asks. “I sure as hell fucking like it.”

Bucky can only make faint noises. Steves and ahs and what not escape his lips in the smoothest symphony Steve has ever heard. He’s fucking him relentless, unsure of how he can even get his hips to move this way as he never found himself in this exact position. But he’s going. And going. And he’s loving every moment, so much so that he’s not sure he can ever go back to the old ways. Inevitably him or Bucky would succumb. Both giving and receiving felt amazing, but he’d always be James’ little Stevie.

“You take me so well, fuck,” he adds.

“Ste-eve.”

“I know. Poor little face is all red and hot. You’re so close, love.” The praise comes naturally from Steve, but it seems to have Bucky blushing even more. He bends down and snakes an arm under Bucky so his hand can come around and hook onto his neck. His right knee spreads his legs even further, allowing him to bottom down into him; the head of his cock nudges that sweet spot and as if the words weren’t enough, it has Bucky pulsing and making a mess on the bed.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” He exclaims as he empties himself completely while Steve still pounds into him. He reaches back and grabs his lover by the head to bring him in for a heated kiss. A moment later it’s Steve’s turn to fall over the edge. He groans and shakes as he gives three more thrusts before pulling out and letting his seed splatter over the spent brunette’s back. Hot spurts reach up to his shoulders and onto his cheek. Steve is quick to lean forward and lick him clean.

“So good,” he says.

“Stevie, that’s your own cum,” Bucky replies with a shy smile. Who’d have thought Steven Rogers would be the kinky one.

“Mmm. And?”

“And… I want some.” They both chuckle before Bucky can grab onto the man’s broad shoulders and fetch what he wanted.

#rae'sausummer #rssummerofaus #challenge entry #my writing #stucky smut #steve x bucky #space au #stucky space au

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cami-chats · 5 years ago

Text

Being In Love

Fandom: The Witcher (TV)

Pairing: Geralt/Renfri

Warnings: Brief mention of past non-con

Realizing she was in love with Geralt was less 'oh' and more 'ah shit'. That's literally what she thought when she realized it. Jaskier had been rehearsing his lines, and when he asked Geralt if he thought it was funny, he'd just hmm'd. Renfri had laughed at that, and that was when it hit her: she was in love with him. Ah shit. Plenty of people fell in love with Geralt, and he'd turned them all down. He hadn't given a reason, and as far as she knew, he wasn't aro. He just... hadn't been interested. She was his best friend, sure, but that was because she hadn't looked at him and fallen immediately in lust so he gave their possible friendship a try and here they were. With her in the exact position she didn't want to be in.

She was in the coffee shop where Yennefer worked now-- managed technically, though how she got that position after only working there for six months, Renfri had no idea-- with her laptop open as she kept a careful eye on the bid for a set of daggers. She didn't care about all of them, just that one stiletto dagger with the red jewel on the end. She'd probably turn around and resell the others if she won this-- which she was determined to do.

Geralt took the seat next to her, and she didn't think anything about it; they always sat next to each other. "Black Swan's out," he said as he reached into his bag his own computer.

"I saw." Damn, someone just raised the bid by fifty bucks. Was this person made of money? She glared at the screen as she entered a new amount. If her parents hadn't left all their money to her when they died, she'd be so screwed right now.

"Want to go tonight?"

"What time?" She had to get up early tomorrow to meet with her Women in Medieval History teacher, so she didn't want to be out too late. Dr. de Vries was a great professor, but she could be a little ruthless if she thought Renfri wasn’t paying complete attention to her.

"Seven."

"Sure."

Geralt plugged in his charger and opened it up, scowling at the world at large as he worked on his essay.

"Hello friends!" Jaskier proclaimed, throwing his bag on the table and sitting across from them, his elbow resting on the table so he could lean his head into his hand. "How are we this fine afternoon?"

"Busy," Geralt and Renfri said at the same time.

"Are you messaging each other?" he asked, peering over to try and see what was on their screens. Geralt flicked him in the nose. "Oh alright, keep your secrets." He rubbed at his nose and sat back down. "Any plans tonight?"

"We're going to see Black Swan," Renfri said, refreshing the page to make sure she hadn't been outbid again.

"Sounds like fun, can I come?"

"No," Geralt said immediately. Renfri glanced at him but didn't comment. As much as they joked about Jaskier talking too much, they'd all gone to the movies before.

"What? Why not?"

Geralt just glared at him.

"Fine. Fine, leave me alone on a Friday night like a pathetic loser with no friends."

"No," Yennefer said, appearing behind him and making him jump, "you're a pathetic loser with almost three friends. Why are they leaving you alone on a Friday night?"

"They're going to see Black Swan, and I'm not invited."

"Black Swan?" she repeated, perking up.

"You're not invited either," Geralt said, before she could say anything further.

She pouted, but he was unmoved. "Fine. I just need to finish up inventory in the storeroom and then I'll be done."

Renfri didn't think anything of it at the time-- too busy winning the auction! She paid through the nose for it, but by Lilit that dagger was worth it-- but once she was back in her apartment, she frowned. Geralt often acted like he didn't want any friends, but he never refused plans outright unless he had a reason. He must have a reason for this, but she didn't know what the hell that could be. So something about this must be different. Did he need to tell her something? Oh fuck he's dying. Wait, no. Geralt wouldn't tell anyone he was dying until he was already dead. Safe there, but did he still need to break some sort of news? But that didn't make sense either. People found things out about him, he didn't volunteer the information. Hell, Renfri hadn't known his parents were dead until she'd tried to invite them to Geralt's birthday party-- a party he'd protested but had fun at all the same, thank you very much.

She was overthinking this, nothing was going on. Yennefer and Jaskier could both be assholes to watch movies with, sometimes it was fine, other times it wasn't and clearly this was one of the latter.

And that belief stayed with her until Geralt showed up at her apartment. Dressed up. He was wearing a button-up. And Jaskier hadn't bribed him. He'd combed his hair to resemble something neat, and he was even wearing jeans that were free of holes or grease stains from where he worked. Suddenly, her haphazard ponytail at the base of her neck and the hoodie seemed terribly inappropriate.

"I wasn't paying attention to the time," she lied. "Let me change real quick."

He nodded and took a seat on the couch, arms crossed over his chest for lack of anything else to do.

First thing, she took out the elastic and ran her fingers through her hair. She ducked into her room and pulled off her hoodie and t-shirt, throwing it carelessly on the ground. She had a date night shirt around here somewhere, she just needed to find it. She opened her closet, grabbed the first dressy shirt she saw and put it on. She finished buttoning it, then glanced in the mirror and grimaced. This was the shirt she wore when Yennefer dragged her to parties. Translucent white with big red rose designs and little ruffles to make up the capped sleeves. It might be a button up, but it was low cut by design. She thought about changing again, but she wasn't going to risk them being late; this would have to do.

She headed back into the living room, so busy messing with her hair to make sure it wasn't caught in the collar, that she missed the interested look Geralt gave her new outfit. God was this a date? She hadn't prepared herself for a date. At all. Much less one with Geralt. What did Geralt even do on dates? Hell, what did she do on dates? She'd been on one since starting college, and then she hadn't trusted anyone for a while. If this was in fact a date, it would be her first in over two years. Maybe she should ask, make sure.

Except then Geralt held the car door open for her, and that had to mean this was a date, right? He never did that normally. When they got to the theater, he paid for both their tickets even though they had a longstanding agreement to pay for their outings separately. And then they were in line, waiting for that screening to open, and he cleared his throat and said, "You look nice."

"Oh. Um, thanks." She had definitely chosen the wrong shirt for this. "You look nice too." That sounded insincere, so she added, "I didn't know you had pants that clean."

He snorted, and this was more normal footing. "I never wear them."

"They make your ass look pretty phenomenal."

"My goal in life," he said drily.

"I'm just saying. You're guaranteed to get laid if you go on a date wearing them." Damn. She used to be suave, can you believe that? If they were definitely here as friends though, that would've been a perfectly fine thing to say.

"Hm," he said, but it was noncommittal. God damn it, this was a date and she’d just said that.

Someone in line was eyeing her a little too much, and she shifted, putting an arm around Geralt's waist. He didn't pause, his arm going over her shoulders automatically. It was a common bit they did, since Geralt was intimidating enough that no one wanted to risk hitting on his girlfriend. Of course, now that they were (probably) on a date, it only served to make her heartbeat quicken instead of easing her mind.

They got into their seats without further incident, and she shivered. She knew that movie theaters were cold, and she hadn’t brought a jacket. Unprompted, Geralt put his arm back around her and pulled her close, his body a line of heat against hers. The music started playing, the lights dimmed, and the movie began.

The boss of the ballet showed up, and Renfri leaned in to whisper, "He's a predator."

"Yeah."

She didn't bother to move back into her own seat because Geralt was plenty comfortable to lean on. Hell, over the course of their friendship she'd learned that he didn't make a bad pillow, either. A couple minutes later, she was proven right about the character, not that it was a surprise. She snorted, tucking hair behind her ear from where it had fallen out when she moved.

They walked out of the theater, not knowing exactly what they had watched. "That was..."

"Weird," Geralt supplied, and she nodded.

"Good, but weird. And I could have done without the assault plot points."

"Unnecessary," he grunted. See, it's stuff like that they made them such great friends.

They got back to her apartment, and Geralt hovered awkwardly in the doorway like he wasn't sure if he needed an official invitation or not. "Get in here, Witcher," she said, rolling her eyes. "You've been here a hundred times." It was a bit different since they'd just gone on a date, but for the most part it was the same. He was still her best friend, and she was still perfectly comfortable around him.

"Hmm." He stepped in and closed the door, but he was staying near the entrance instead of making himself at home like he normally did.

Renfri sighed. "It's the shirt isn't it?"

Geralt said nothing, but it was enough.

"I didn't know it was a date until you showed up. I grabbed the first thing I saw," she said with a shrug.

"Hmm."

"Oh don't give me that, I was happy to go on a date with you, I just didn't know that's what it was. You want a beer?"

"Yeah." At the offer, he started acting normally, taking the bottle from her and sitting on the couch. "Weird movie."

"I was hoping for a little more dancing, but I should've known better. It's not like Portman's a dancer, she's an actress."

"A good one."

"A good one," Renfri agreed, "but not a ballerina. The whole rivalry plotline seemed... contrived."

He grunted in agreement, taking a sip. "Good effects."

"Damn good effects," she said.

Everything was normal. That leading to them fucking on her bed, well, that was less normal. But it was also a sight better than talking about a movie neither of them had loved.

"What the fuck," she spit as a loud, persistent noise woke her up.

It took Geralt a second to be awake enough to form words, but when he did, it was one word, more of a groan than a word, "Jaskier."

"He's calling you? This early?" Then, "Why the hell is that your ringtone for him?" She picked up the phone, slid it to answer and said, "Fuck off!" and hung up. She sighed in relief at the blessed silence that followed.

Only for twenty seconds, when the phone started going off again. Geralt answered it this time, leaning over her as she covered her ears and wondered how long it would take for her to go completely mad. "What," he growled.

He was close enough-- and the room was quiet enough-- that she could hear Jaskier's side of the conversation as well. "Was that a woman answering your phone? Two questions for you, Mister Geralt: since when do you do hook ups and who is she that you've stayed the night?"

"Jaskier," he said warningly.

"Oh alright, but I will get the answers out of you eventually."

"Get to the point."

"Can you pick me up? Well, me and Yennefer. We're too drunk to drive."

"Call a cab."

"I can't find my wallet and the she-witch claims she can't find hers. Personally, I think she's cheap."

Geralt groaned, head dropping to the pillow. Renfri pat him in commiseration.

"Great! We're at the Cintra sorority house."

He sighed. Of course that's where they were. Calanthe had banned him from going in. While he had no intention of going inside, she'd probably take it as him picking a fight if he showed up on her lawn. "Be outside."

"Thaaaank you Geralt, you're my hero!"

Geralt humphed and hung up.

Renfri rubbed at her face, trying to will wakefulness into being.

"Jaskier's an idiot," he grumbled. He pushed himself up. "See you tomorrow."

"I'll come with you," she said, talking around her yawn. She made to get up, and he gently pushed her back down.

"You have to get up early."

"I'm already up," she argued, but when he kissed her forehead and got to his feet, she didn't try to follow. It's not like Geralt needed help, and she was going to have to wake up again in four hours. "Call if you need a save."

Geralt snorted, imagining how that rescue would take place.

"And-" she had to stop to yawn widely "-I'll see you tomorrow."

#geralt/renfri #geralt of rivia #renfri #the witcher #fanfic #my writing

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rmg91 · 5 years ago

Text

The Woes and Antics of Living Together-22

Second to last chapter folks! Can you believe it?! We're basically in gratuitous fluff territory now and that makes me so happy. I love fluff XD This chapter is a little bit different from the rest though as I've tried to write it as if you were watching parts of Poppy's blogs. So please excuse any awkward endings, it's harder than you think to write like that.

These don't really follow too much of a timeline other than they're all between a few weeks post!Broppy get together and about a year or so afterwards.

Hope you enjoy!

Previous Chapter/Next Chapter; AO3/FF.net

@writerofberk-Fluff, fluff, fluffy fluff!

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Cooking with Branch~”

“Hey there, My cupcakes!” Poppy said excitedly to the camera, grinning widely as Branch stood a little awkwardly next to her. They were in their kitchen with a collection of ingredients on the counter in front of them. “I hope you're all ready for this weeks video cause it's one you've all been requesting! Cooking with Branch!” She gestured wildly at him, with wide arms and jazz hands.

“Why did I agree to do this again?” Branch asked, arms crossed as he watched Poppy with a flat look.

“Mmm...” Poppy hummed, finger held to her chin before she grinned at him, “Because you love me~”

Branch blushed bright red and sputtered a little before coughing, “Right...” He sighed, cheeks still pink as he scrubbed at his hair, “So how are we doing this?”

“Just tell them what we're making and how to do it!”

The dark blue haired man looked a little unsure at her before sighing and turning to address the camera, “Right, so...Poppy's requested we make spaghetti sauce and..um...yeah?” He turned back to Poppy to hiss, “This is stupid, what am I actually doing?”

“You're doing fine, Branch.” Poppy said to him, placing her hand on top of his, “Just act like you're teaching me. Explain what you're doing as you do it.” The pinkette flashed a grin at the screen, “Branch's sauce is the best! And great for more than just pasta! It's really good in lasagna and with a few tweaks makes a great pizza sauce too!”

“Right.” Branch took in a breath and breathed out, “So, to start we take onion and start chopping it before sweating in the pan...”

As he began to demonstrate, Branch seemed to forget he was being filmed and went on to confidently explain the process. Poppy jumped in at times, either to pass a ingredient or spice, talking more with the audience about up coming parties and functions. She and Branch even bantered back and forth while Branch stirred the concoction Poppy gushed about smelling amazing. She carefully held the camera up to show the simmering sauce in the pot as Branch explained that it needed to simmer for about an hour or so before it was ready to be eaten.

“And there you have it!” Poppy said brightly as Branch began cleaning up, “Branch's super special pasta sauce!” He could be seen blushing in the background as she praised him, “The recipe will be down below and be sure to comment if you make it! We'd love to hear how you guys like it!” The pinkette wrapped an arm around his to stop him as she made him look at the camera, “Be sure to subscribe if you're new and let us know if you want more cooking segments! I'm sure I can convince Branch to do them~” She winked saucily causing another round of blush to come Branch's face. She giggled gleefully, “See you next time and stay sweet~!”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Mini Golfing-So much fun!”

“And we're back, everyone,” Guy Diamond said into the camera, voice taking on a hushed announcer quality, “For the thrilling conclusion of today's epic mini golf battle. Oh the drama! The intrigue!” He flipped the camera to show Branch and Poppy facing one another, competitive looks on their faces as the stood in front of the last hole. “Our contestants are tied at forty-one hits each. Will Poppy 'Play From Your Heart' Meadows come out victorious? Or will Branch 'The Strictler' Hawthorn beat our favorite champion once again? Let's find out.”

Branch broke his stare off with Poppy to glare at Guy, “Who are you calling a strickler?!”

“Ah-ah-ah, Branch!” Poppy said, wagging a finger in front of his face, “Don't go getting distracted. We're about to end this and I'm about to get my championship back!”

Branch snorted and crossed his arms, leaving a smug look toward Poppy, “So sure about that are you? Pretty sure, I beat you fairly soundly last time.”

Poppy stood with her hands on her hips, “Oh, don't be getting so smug, Mister. That was a one time thing and since I'm so sure I'm going to win...What do you say to a little bet?”

The Snack Pack could all be heard going 'Oooooh' in the background and Guy muttered, “Looks like things just got intresting.”

Branch rolled his eyes before smirking, “Fine. What did you have mind?”

Poppy flashed a confident smile up at her boyfriend, “If I win-you come clubbing with us tonight and you have to dance with me. No sitting at table. If you win...” She suddenly leaned up and whispered something in his ear that had a blush bloom against his cheeks and neck before standing back down with a saucy smirk, “Do we have a deal?”

Branch struggled for a moment before he managed to croak out, “Deal!”

“Ooh-ho-ho~! Seems like something naughty was just put on the table.” Guy chuckled before resuming his 'Announcer Voice', “And now, Miss Meadows is lining up her shot.”

Poppy took her time to judge the distance she would need to hit the ball before giving her hips a little wiggle, shimming her shoulders and blowing out a trumpet like sound before she whacked the ball down the course. The ball bounced too and fro, hitting an obstacle or two before rolling to a stop right on the edge of the hole. The Snack Pack all groaned alongside Poppy before Branch took his turn. He took a calmer approach than Poppy, taking a second to glare at Smidge who had coughed before he hit it. It bounced around like Poppy's, rolling hard over a hill before coming to a gentle stop beside Poppy's ball and nudging the pink sphere into the hole. The group of friends cheered and Poppy began a victory dance.

“Oh yeah! I win!” She danced around Branch happily, “Thank for the hole-in-one, Honey~” She then pulled her frowning boyfriend down for a quick kiss. She laughed joyously, before waving her hands up in the air, “Clubbing's gonna be so fun tonight!”

~*~*~*~*~*~

FabulousDiamond posted a new video-

“Well!” Guy said into his phone's camera, voice loud to be heard over the pumping music in the club. Bodies of people could be seen in the background as he easily moved between them, “We now know what happens when Branch gets a couple of drinks in him!”

He laughed as he turned the phone to capture the dancing duo in the center of a ring of people. Branch and Poppy, twirling around in a rather impressive display of spins and dips, singing along to 'DJ got us Falling in Love.' Branch didn't seem to care he was being watched as spun Poppy away from him only to bring her back against his chest before dipping her low. Poppy could be seen laughing, said laughter getting drowned out by cheers and music, before she wrapped her arms around Branch's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. More cheers sounded, Guy hooting himself before ending the video.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Benefit Concert!!”

“Okay...I think I got it...” A female voice said before the camera focused on a young woman with medium blue hair, some strands still covered in paint. She was standing the middle of an excited crowd, people starting to get hyped for something exciting, “Hey, everyone! Harper here! I'm sure Poppy's already told you all what this is all about so I won't bore you with details. Anyway, I guess I'm guest host for tonight! Oh!” Harper looked off camera before flashing a grin, “Looks like everything's about to get started!”

The camera turned and faced a large stage, colorful streamers and balloons hanging from it. The crowd started cheering and applauding Gristle who was walking out with a microphone. He grinned and waved before gesturing for the crowd to calm down. “Hey there, everyone!! Thanks for coming!” More applause answered him and he had to wait for it to die down before continuing, “You all know why we're here, to help raise funds for a new animal shelter! And I'm please to announce that it looks like we're gonna meet our goal!” Even more cheers sounded, the camera bobbing up and down as Harper bounced and cried happily. “So! Without further ado! Let's give up for your entertainment for tonight!”

The crowd went absolutely wild as Gristle left the stage and the music began to play. Poppy came prancing out, wearing a cute teal blue, sequined dress and a flower headband, “I've got this feeling in my bones~! It's goes electric wavy when I turn it on!”

Branch came strutting out from the opposite side of Poppy, dressed up in shiny black pants, a white shirt and a sequined green vest, “And if you want it, inside your soul.”

“Just open up your heart, let music take control~!” They sang together as they reached center stage. “I got that sunshine in my pocket, got that good soul in my feet! I feel that hot blood in my body, when it drops-” They dropped their shoulders as they slid past each other, “Oooh~! I can't take my eyes off it, movin' so phenomenally! Room on lock, the way we rock it, so don't stop!”

Suddenly the lights illuminated the rest of the Snack Pack behind them, all dressed up in equally glittery outfits as they all sang while Branch and Poppy began dancing with each other, grabbing each other's hands and swinging across the stage, “And under the lights when everything goes... Nowhere to hide when I'm gettin' you close..” Branch made sure to tug Poppy a little closer before spinning her around, “When we move, well, you already know... So just imagine, just imagine, just imagine...!”

Branch spun Poppy away, where she struck a pose before dancing back over to him, “Nothin' I can see but you dance, dance, dance!” He twirled her around some more, never breaking eye contact before she pull away to perform of few of her own moves, “Feel a good, good creepin' up you, so just dance, dance, dance! All those things I shouldn't do but you dance, dance, dance.” Branch slid around Poppy to grab her around her waist before twisting her around and dancing across the stage with her in his arms, “Ain't nobody leavin' soon, so keep dancin'! I can't stop the feelin'! So just dance, dance, dance~” Poppy twisted her hips from side to side before spinning away from Branch, “I can't stop the feelin'! So just dance, dance, dance!”

They continued to dance across the stage, the Snack Pack joining in for more complicated moves, voices harmonizing as the crowd cheered wildly. The camera was jostled slightly but Harper kept it as steady as she could while also enjoying the musical number, crying out Biggie's name happily. The group ended it with a few more complicated looking moves before Branch scooped Poppy up in his arms for a final spin, holding her easily when they stopped and she flung out an arm in a finishing pose. Everyone screamed and cheered loudly for the performers, who happily took bows before the next song began to play.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Camping Weekend”

The camera focused on a smiling Poppy, hair down and sort of messy, with a blanket being worn over her shoulders. It could be seen she was sitting in a bright green tent on what could only be described as a nest of blankets with the pitter-pattering of rain echoing around her. A bit of blue hair could be seen sticking out from the breathing pile of blankets beside her. She giggled softly as she adjusted and glanced around her surroundings.

“So, it started raining,” She said with another giggle, “But hey, at least Branch and I are all snug and warm in our tent. And I know all our supplies is safely protected too, so we don't have to worry about that. Having a paranoid, 'everything's gonna go wrong' boyfriend comes in handy, I guess!”

“Ha-ha, very funny.” Branch's voice floated up flatly from his cocoon.

“Aww, you know I don't mean that.” She snickered lightly, hand reaching over to card her fingers through his hair, “But really,” She now addressed the camera again, “Having Mister 'Man with a Plan' here is great. And as you can see, he's made us a nice cozy nest of pretty much all the blankets from home! You'd think camping would have more sleeping bags!”

“Well excuse me for saving us the uncomfortableness that is sleeping on the cold hard ground.” Branch grumbled.

Poppy laughed and gently pushed his shoulder, “I'm not complaining and you know it!” She giggled some more, “Anyway... Hopefully the rain stops soon so we can go on that hike I mentioned earlier. I was so looking forward to it! And showing you all the pretty scenery!” She pouted slightly as Branch mumbled something about 'stupid weather apps' before she sighed, “But I guess if we can't, we can't...We've still had so much fun already! Isn't that right, Branch?”

Branch hummed his agreement before unwrapping an arm and throwing it around Poppy's waist, “And if we do have to go home early, we can come back and do this again.”

“Yup!” Poppy agreed brightly, “So I guess I'll see you all either on the trail or on the car ride home! Till later!”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Karaoke Night~!”

The Karaoke bar featured was lit intimately, lights low with the lit candles on the tables giving everything a warm glow. Milton was currently on stage, crooning a love ballad to Smidge who sat close to the stage with a blush staining her cheeks. The rest of the patrons all watched, some smiling at the display, some boredly, other's, like Bridget and Gristle, swaying in their seats to the music. Poppy's signature giggle could be heard coming softly from behind the camera before she started half whispering to someone.

“Come on, you promised.” She said, a slightly whine in her otherwise playful tone.

Branch's groan was then heard, “Poppy...”

“Pleeease? You do it so well at home~ And it's not like this is your first time singing in front of us.”

A long suffering sigh was then heard, “Fine, fine. I'll do it.” There was a brief moment of silence between then before Poppy could be heard giggling again and Branch could be heard saying, “Why do I let you talk me into these things?”

“Because you love me~”

“Hmm...I guess I do.”

The people then began clapping as Milton finished, Poppy joining in happily before shooing Branch up on stage. She then twisted the camera to film him going up and choosing the song he was going to sing, excited giggles escaping her, “Oh, you guys are gonna love this!”

Branch took the stage with a mild amount of applause, most coming from the Snack Pack, before shaking his head, a fond smile gracing it, as Poppy wolf whistled at him. He then nodded for the music to start playing. A slow, jazzy piano tune started to play and Branch began, his angel like voice filtering through the place.

“Mama, I don't have time for dancin'...That's just gonna have to wait a while~ Ain't got time for messin' around and it's not my style...” He swayed side to side, eyes closed, “This old town can slow you down, people takin' the easy way... But I know exactly where I'm goin', gettin' closer n' closer ever day~!”

As the music began to turn more jaunty, Branch started to move with it, shoulders bouncing, “And I'm almost there! I'm almost there. People down here think I'm crazy,” He spun a finger beside his ear, grinning toward where the Snack Pack sat, “But I don't care! Trials and tribulations, I've had my share, there ain't nothin' that's gonna stop me now, and I'm almost there!”

He tapped his foot to the beat as he removed the microphone from the stand, looking up and off to the side, “I remember Daddy told me, fairy tales can come true. You gotta make them happen, it all depends on you~” He faced and smiled at the small audience then, “So I work real hard each and every day, now things for sure are going my way. Just doin' what I do, look out girls I'm coming through~!” He flashed a wink at Poppy that had her laughing in enjoyment.

“And I'm almost there! I'm almost there. People gonna come here from everywhere! I'm almost there and I'm almost there!” Just the music played while Branch took a breath before the tone turned soft again and he stepped off stage, “There's been trials and tribulations, you know I've had my share...” He walked over just slightly off camera before pulling Poppy back towards the stage, the music picking up again, “But I've climbed a mountain and I've crossed a river and I'm almost there! I'm almost there. And I'm aaallmost-” He sudden picked up Poppy and spun her around as he sang the last note proudly, “Theeeeeeeeere!” He sat her down, grinning down at her, “I'm almost there.”

The crowd cheered as Poppy giggled in his arms before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a short kiss. More cheers and a few wolf-whistles sounded before Poppy pulled back and flounced her way up on stage, claiming she was next.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Let's Pack! Pt 2”

Poppy was laughing as she placed DVD's and games into another box, regaling to her audience about the time where she and the Snack Pack had been having a Murder Mystery party and Guy had hypnotized Cooper, “So! Cooper thought he was the worlds greatest detective for like three days! Then he started solving things that didn't need to be solved and almost ruined a big surprise Chenille had for Satin so that's when Guy and I convinced him he need to solve the 'Case of the Missing Cooper' and-” She snorted slightly as she grinned, “He 'solved' it by becoming Cooper again!” She giggled while shaking her head, placing a few more movies in her current box before taping it up.

“So-” Before she could be began another tale, Branch suddenly cried out.

“Branch?! What happened?!” Poppy cried, already half up before Branch replied.

“I found more goddamn glitter in the carpet!!!”

“Oh...” Poppy sank back down with a snicker, trying to hide it behind her hand.

“This is no laughing matter!” Branch's voice got clearer as he came out into the living room, “How can there be glitter everywhere?! I've vacuumed five times and I keep finding it!! It is not invading our new apartment! No, sire-e! Nu-uh! You can find a different hobby!”

Poppy giggled, “You can't contain the glitter, Branch! And it's gonna invade alright, you know you can't stop me from using it.”

“I can try!” He huffed, crossing his arms.

Poppy laughed as she got up and walked over to Branch, throwing her arms around his neck as she stood on her toes, “You can, true! But if you can have your ration box, I can have my glitter. And I did promise to try and keep in my new craft room, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah...” He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing his nose against hers, “How's it going out here?”

“It's great! I was just telling everyone about the time Cooper got hypnotized into Chummy Sparklestone!”

Branch snorted as he pulled away, “Course you were.” Shaking his head, mouth quirked up as he looked at Poppy fondly before speaking up, “Comment and tell Poppy how pointless glitter is!”

“Hey!” She cried indignantly, “It is not!” She playfully swatted at him as she turned to the camera, “Don't comment that! Comment on how much Branch needs to embrace the glitter!”

“Never!” He shouted before picking her up and spinning her around the empty looking living room, most of Poppy's pictures packed away already.

Poppy squealed and laughed as Branch put her down, kissing the top of her head before she pulled away. Picking up the camera she smiled at it, “Well, guys, I think I'll leave this here for now. Updates can be seen on my other social and next time you see us, we'll be at the new place! Stay sweet~!”

~*~*~*~*~*~

And there you have it! Some short, sweet shots of Broppy goodness! I hope I managed to pull off Branch getting more confident during his time together with Poppy. He's at least gotten use to her vlogging a lot of things lol! Anyway, last chapter will be the epilogue and this will be completed. Aahhh!! I can't believe it's almost over! (Also I'd like to point out in Guy's short vid, Branch isn't really drunk, he's just had just enough to not let his social anxiety get to him too much and to just enjoy dancing with Poppy. Branch would never allow himself to get horribly drunk.)

Can’t Stop The Feeling-Dreamworks Trolls

Almost There-Disney (Caleb Hyles version pictured)

#Dreamworks Trolls #Branch #Poppy #Broppy #Fanfiction #Human AU #Modern AU #Roommate AU #dreamworkstrolls #Fluff

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